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[WP] There is a code amongst the super-villians of the world. Never intentionally beat the heroes, even when you can. The heroes don't know this, and one day, they push it too far. | "They did what now?" Stephanie "Iron Claw" Tailor said forcing herself to stay calm, you did not kill the messenger. Or for that matter traumatize them with an angry outburst.
"They... ma'am... they killed... They killed Firesprite...Ma'am, they shot her in the head when she was monologuing." Ruben, Stephanie's apprentice, said.
Poor Rebecka. It had been one of her favorite ways to let the heroes get the better of her. She had always liked the absurdity of it. And she had had a knack for it. Set them up in an elaborate trap that any fool with a little brains and guts can escape. Monologue with your head turned away or something like that. Heroes escape, Firesprite curses them as she make her escape. Everybody is happy.
And now they fucking shot her in the head for it.
Nicholas "Steelburn" had talked about it with her before he retired, how the new heroes didn't play the game the way it used to be. Steph had just thought it was Nick who had fallen for the "It was better before" that come with some as they age and don't like to see the concepts they knew as they grew up change.
But, yeah, there had been signs.
The heroes brutally beating up Stormspark two years back.
How the general damage of the heroes interventions had steadily started to rise...
And now this.
They of course didn't know of the pact.
A few generations back the supervillains of the world had decided that; while they could dominate the world with the powers they had, It would be much more hassle then it was worth.
A steady stream of robbing from the already extremely moneyed, some anonymous gifts to certain organizations to distribute some of that wealth after expenses was accounted for and some staged and highly implausible capers every once in a while for the hell of it made for a quite more agreeable lifestyle.
And with that it was decided that unless strictly necessary, the heroes shouldn't be harmed.
Taunted, yes.
Tricked? Certainly.
Placed in elaborate and stupid death traps? Not Steph's personal kink but she didn't judge.
They really didn't know.
They would find out soon enough.
"Ruben?" she said and her apprentice stiffened by her side, "Please tell Tomas that they change to lice rounds in their guns for next caper. Tell him that they are to use as much lethal force as they have always wanted. That just this time, we don't do any theatrics. I want them to know that we have always held back. I want them to know, that they brought this on themselves." | Lich knelt on the road, his black ichor blood oozing from his splitting skin like tar. Vestiges of red-scaled skin retreated from his neck and chest, shedding off like a great serpent. A final wisp of flame exhaled from his mouth, quickly conflagrating into nothingness. Another elixir down, consumed in a fruitless attempt at terror.
Parading herself some hundred feet up the inclined street, a young woman bowed to an eager crowd of civilians. The red sequins of her jumpsuit sparkled in the noon sun scintillating off her matte black suit coat. Posing for amateur photographs, she spun a gaudy top hat around a cliché magician’s wand.
Abracadabra was new to the city and, like most newcomers, was eager to make a name for herself. Most aspiring heroes might have started off small, stopping hold ups and dealing with C-listers. Not her though. She decided to fast track her rise to fame by tackling one of the most well known and respected villains in San Francisco.
She spun on a dime, giving a final showboat to the crowd, and turned to face Lich. She spoke, her voice young and lively.
“Woo, Lich,” Her voice carried well down the avenue. “Not gonna lie. Thought you’d be a bit more challenging. Have a little more, what’s the word?” She paused, her voice laced with mockery. “Pizzazz? Have to say, I adored the little potions though. Adorable. Maybe this sorry excuse for a show will make the six o’clock news,”
The dark skinned man staggered to his feet, his flesh practically peeling off his body as the effects of his last serum finally withered away. He growled, the sound overly hoarse. He was used to the banter. The back and forth, tête-à-tête between himself and an adversary. Not this though. There was no respect between foes here.
Reaching into the many folds of his moldy half cloak, he produced an esoteric red vial from a grungy holster. He spoke before cracking it open, his gritty voice instantly recognizable.
“You need to work on your showmanship, not to mention your quips. I’ve heard them all before. Not gonna lie,” He practically screeched as he parodied her voice. “Thought you’d be a bit more… original? Something a little more presentable than a rip off. Leave the magician aesthetic to professionals, huh?”
Downing the rust red liquid, his upper body began to boil and bubble. Knotted cords of muscle erupted from his shoulder and pectorals, rippling down his chest. Steely tendons engorged his sinewy arms and hands. Charred, chitinous bone pushed itself to the surface, painfully tearing through the burgeoning flesh before it armored the raw tissue. The process took mere moments to finish and caused Lich to hunch forwards under the sheer weight.
Abracadabra bounced forwards, apparently unconcerned with the sudden display of growth. Lich roared, his previously black veins bulging with crimson animosity. He saw red, his altered emotions stirring him to violence. Hefting a nearby motorcycle behind himself, he cocked his arm back.
Dancing closer, the sequined heroine lazily flicked her white capped wand towards the raging villain. Identical motorcycles manifest themselves around the original, springing into existence with a grinding of aluminum. The sudden weight caught Lich off guard, pinning his ogreish arm to the ground. He struggled to find any real leverage, electing to simply rip his arm free rather than lift it. Flechettes of steel stuck loosely between the cracks of the armor, black blood dripped through.
Roaring in fury, he charged towards Abracadabra, his gorilla like movements sundering the asphalt. Most behind the heroine scattered, retreating into buildings. Only the foolishly brave held their ground, eager for a front row seat.
“You need to fucking learn how things fucking work in this goddamn city,” Each word was punctuated by black ichor mixed with the crimson liquid. “Allow me to give a fucking demonstration, you fucking fuck,”
​
*If you enjoyed reading this piece and would like to read similar works, consider following me at* r/acropolis_of_athena. *There isn't a lot right now, but I'm going to be posting at least three times a week. If not, then thanks for reading.* | 2020-08-18T13:22:22 | 2020-08-18T12:55:34 | 77 | 28 |
[WP] Superpowers exist, from flight to strength, hearing to intelligence, your power is slightly different than most and is considered the most dangerous. The power of suggestion. | The silent warrior stood before me. His eyes were closed, and his sword held out with two hands before him.
“Greetings, Silent Warrior. We meet again.” I smiled, he wouldn’t beat me this time.
The Silent Warrior said nothing, only continued to hold his sword’s grip.
“How’s a bout you drop the sword?” I said to the warrior. He dived to me, and swung the sword down.
Moments before collision he let go of the sword. I’d seen only few people twist my commands before. I chuckled, this would be interesting.
I ducked out of the way of the falling sword. It scattered across the concrete floor.
“Leave the sword be now, will ya?” I said. The warrior charged towards me, his eyes still sealed shut.
He swung a fist in my direction, which narrowly missed.
“Hit yourself!” I said, looking for some fun.
The warrior grabbed a hold of me, and bashed his head against mine. I wobbled away in a daze, and before I knew it he had his sword in his hands again.
“Wowie!” I said, “Clever boy!” I grinned.
The warrior swung his sword, to which I backed away with a quiet grunt.
“Say something, o-silent one!” I said.
Nothing happened. The silent warrior remained silent. I frowned, utterly confused.
Using my momentary confusion, the warrior swung down his sword, and collided with my shoulder. I yelped in pain.
“Get off of me!” I cried, the warrior backed down, but the sword remained lodged in my now broken shoulder.
“How?” I said, desperate.
The warrior shrugged.
Must be a mute, I cursed internally.
“Take this sword, and pierce your stomach. Now.” I commanded, I was done with the games.
The warrior dislodged the sword from my shoulder, and held the sword above his chest. He lightly poked it with the tip of the blade. Just enough to leave a tiny hole. A small trickle of blood came out.
“All the way inside!” I shouted, and the warrior pulled away the sword and lunged at my chest, the sword went straight through my stomach.
I choked, and coughed up blood. This could really be it. I couldn’t believe that my one weakness had been figured out. Previous commands were irrelevant once new ones were issued.
“Die!” I cried out, kicking the warrior with the last of my strength.
I fumbled, and realised what I’d done. The warrior has his fingers inside of his ears. He hadn’t heard a word of my command.
My stomach tightened, my eyes began to narrow. Blood seeped from my chest.
I followed my last command, and died. | *"Is that acceptable?"*
It was there, in full daylight for all to see, to hear, to record. They could understand it, could disseminate exactly what he was doing, how and why. And yet they would not stop him. Alex sat behind his desk, strategically holding the blank piece of paper with both hands to make his shoulders look narrow and unintimidating. He had just fired his one and only bullet right into the tiny little brain of his client, and the splash would imminently take out his colleagues as well.
-'Well, that's not a fair way to look at. That's... that's...', the client stammered.
'Jackpot', Alex thought to himself. Now he just had to make them think endlessly families and little children.
'We ran the numbers. The chances of this specific incident occurring are... are vanishingly small! One in a million maybe!'
"Maybe?", Alex laughed internally. It really was too easy when they gave him all the ammunition. "So you're okay with one in a million children dying... *maybe*?" He asked as innocuously as possible, changing his facial expression ever so slightly from neutral towards "Bambi staring into the headlights after hearing that Santa Claus is a lie".
The client started muttering incoherent refutations about the safety of the activities, and one of his colleagues -wearing the most atrocious tie he'd seen in 2 days- jumped in, in a counterproductive attempt to help him:
"Look, Mr. Moretti, I know one in a million children dead doesn't sound good..."
Wow, he was right. That sounded terrible. And his tie looked even worse when it moved. He hated people who didn't spend enough money on a proper tie. Disgusting. He felt like strangling the pathetic, incapable waste of a man with it.
"... but we're talking about sports and playing here. It's normal, it's healthy, it's a basic and essential part of their life! Only a fraction of accidents result in permanent damage or death! A-and the total amount of dead children might be above one-"
Oh goodness, did he really just admit children were going to die because of this? This guy just dug a mass grave for his entire company, maybe he had some inverse version of the power of Suggestion? Was there even a word for that? He'd have to look it up later, after this deal was done.
"But remember it's a big country, a-and it's healthy so in the en-"
"Alright Wilson, I think we're taking a break here", a lady interrupted the Gravedigger. The stern woman -wearing garments so drab it seemed not just her womb but her entire life was dried up and atrophied- was probably succumbing to her eternally sacrificed and suppressed motherly instincts after hearing about children between 4 and 12 incurring brain damage, and was now going to take control of the situation by removing the bumbling idiot from the stage. If only she knew it was too late.
"I suggest we continue in five?", she hastily said with a flushed face. He had gradually shifted his facial expression more and more towards "surprised Bambi" and waited the exact amount of time before responding with a hesitant "Okay" to convey his distrust of the safety analysis that the experts had brought him. He left the room, grabbed a cup of coffee and resisted the urge to look up the inverse version of suggestion. Then, after waiting an extra 3 minutes to allow his victims to hastily discuss complex subjects while filled with emotion and a sense of haste, he came back into the room and sat down.
"Mr. Moretti", the lady continued, "I would like to apologize for this proposal. There were clearly some unacceptable flaws that we will have to iron out. I'd like to conclude this meeting..."
Alex went on autopilot. His job was already done; there would be no cute little sports projects for children and teenagers. And little did they know that 10% of the money they would have spent on it, was going to end up in his pockets. It was a strange job he'd talked himself into, but it had made him rich. And hey, he didn't have super strength, or super intelligence, but he was a hero. He'd just 'saved' countless of children from playing and running around and consequently also from being horribly mutilated or killed. He was a bloody fucking superhero.
*"Is that acceptable?"*
________________
Read more of this circular crap /r/luxardens | 2020-09-28T12:21:10 | 2020-09-28T11:36:08 | 25 | 11 |
[WP] In the not too distant future, neural/computer interfaces are powerful enough and advanced enough to interact with our nerves to make us feel, see, touch, taste and smell. You are a therapist that helps people that have lost the ability to tell the difference between reality and "wetware." | Dr. Arctor calmly removes his glasses and sets them on the table.
“And you have found that your...usage of the system has altered your appetite?”
David lies back on the chair, breathing heavily.
“It’s...I don’t...It's the broccoli. I can’t taste the broccoli.”
Arctor is puzzled.
“You can’t taste the broccoli? You mean, in the system?”
“No, here! I can’t taste the broccoli in the real world. I grew up eating broccoli. I love broccoli! But I eat it at home and it’s...it’s not crunchy, or earthy, or whatever. It’s just not...a thing. But in the system, I mean, I eat like crazy, you know? I spent two full days at a buffet! Woke up in the hospital with severe nutrient deficiency. But here, without the system, I can’t eat.”
David puts his hands to his face and lets out a sigh. Arctor leans in.
“David, I want you to think about what your usage of the system is doing to you. Why do you think it is that you can’t eat real food?”
“Because it tastes terrible.”
“Yes, but I’m asking if you understand the difference between real food and virtual food.”
David takes a moment to respond.
“Yes. I know...that. But it’s..I can’t eat. I don’t enjoy...anything, anymore.”
He looks toward the ground as his eyes water. Arctor leans in further.
“David, you need to pull yourself back. Remember the things you know you enjoy. Like Donna, and Jamie. A man’s family has the power to pull him back to the world. Use them as support.”
David looks up at Arctor then back to the floor.
“Donna left three weeks ago, took Jamie with her. There was nothing I could do.”
Wiping his nose, David raises his head.
“But, there’s this girl, in the system, and we’ve been...sorta seeing each other. It’s just a good thing, for me. Right now. And..and we have fun. I eat, I sit by the sun, I finally get to focus on my woodworking...It’s just great.”
“David, nothing good can come of this. You need to let go.”
David is getting defensive.
“I mean, yeah, okay, but what if this *is* a good thing? Like, if you, say, gave me a prescription...then I could take the tablets and finally enjoy things!”
Arctor looks at him sternly.
“David, I am not going to prescribe you Nutritabs. They are for very rare cases of bodily dysfunction or elder care. You’re not going to get them.”
David purses his lips.
“So you’re not going to let me live a happy life? I have to stay in this? This shit?”
“David. You ca-”
“So I go back to my small apartment and you go back to your nice house and family and I’m not allowed to have something nice? Is that logical to you? Is that fair?”
Arctor leans back. Rubbing his eyes in irritation.
“David, I need you to calm down.”
David sits up.
“No! You don’t get to decide what I deserve. I have nothing here, everything there, and I just want to spend the rest of my days there! Who are you to tell me I can’t do that? Who are you to tell me it’s better here than it is there? Why...do I have to live here?”
Arctor puts his hands on the table. Calmly breathing through his nose. He takes a moment.
“You’re right.”
David looks puzzled, mouth open.
“Really?”
“Yup. You’re absolutely right. No matter how hard people try, no matter how many things they do to improve their surroundings, improve themselves, the truth is; it’ll never be good enough. You can’t make things better the way the system can. It’s unbeatable. It’s silly, really. How people try to be happy.”
David is not sure what to say.
“You see, David, I have no clue how to solve your problem. I have absolutely no idea. To be honest, I can’t help you at all. But the good news is, I’m not going to let it bother me for very long.”
“Wait, why?”
“Because I’m getting tired of this session. Tired of you. I’m done with this.”
David stands up, alarmed.
“What? What are you talking about?”
David is panicking.
“Log note seven five four five, project file nine one eight, patient suffering from reality dysmorphia. Diagnosis stemming from dietary indications. No progress, unsure how to proceed.”
“What?!”
“Oh shut up and eat your broccoli.”
Arctor removes a plate of broccoli from his drawer and passes it to David, who immediately begins consuming it, gleefully.
“Ooh, broccoli!”
Arctor removes his headset, the darkness in the room covering his eyes. He flicks on the lightbulb and begins rubbing his eyes. He leans back on his bed, next to a barely touched bowl of ramen noodles. He stares up at the cracked ceiling, irritatingly. Uncomfortably. His arm reaches over to the kitchen counter, fumbling for the Nutritabs. He opens the bottle, flicks a tablet into his mouth, and puts the headset back on. | From the Phorians to the Seraphs, all of them were on the verge of becoming permanently lost when they came to me, their grey matter grown wild in unnatural layers that resisted any hope of non-surgical separation. I won them back, though. Usually. With the proper therapy, delivered regularly and at proper intensity, combined with complete removal of neural/computer interface hardware, a neurological wedge could be driven between the nervous system's process centers and the higher-thinking components of the human brain from which arise our spatial awareness, desires, fears...our interpretation of reality itself.
I called the first group the "Phorians" after the most popular of the neuro-psy VR games, which 90%+ of them had been corrupted by: Phoria Vale. It was an open world game with optional quests. Within its parameters and physical laws, however, there was little a player could not try or accomplish. They could be just about anything. They felt the leaves of Phoria, its grass, its water. They could even breathe its air, smell it, feel it fill their lungs. They could caress and kill, eat and bed down in the wild--all in the game. For those who developed the illenss of dis-separation from the game, the first key was to convince them that they were in fact on Earth, not in Phoria, and that Phoria had never existed anywhere outside of software and the wetware of their own psyches.
The "Seraphs" were harder cases. Some were unrecoverable, so corrupted and misshappen their synapse networks become, and even great swathes of their brain matter. For the unrecoverable, at some point all we could do, if the patient or their family had available funds, was to set them up on life support and let them live out the rest of their lives in their neverending, open-eyed, full-sensory lucid dream.
The Dreamscape program they had become addicted to *was* in a sense a dream. The software simply triggered a continuous lucid dreaming state, and the neuro-psy implants made them feel *everything*, to a level beyond what the human mind could actually trick itself into believing during a regular lucid dream. Whereas the Phorians were limited by a comprehensive game world, the Seraphs were limited by nothing except their own imaginations and certain physical limitations of the human body outside of the which the brain had not evolved coginitive capacity to dream itself away from. They could imagine they were an octopus, for example, but never would they truly be able to experience the world in the exact manner of those eight-armed chromatophore-manipulating cephalapods.
The Seraphs scare me more than the Phorians could ever do. Some dreamed themselves as serial killers. Some, harboring a life of hatred against many antagonizers, dreamed themselves to be dictators, commanding mass purges of their enemies, if not outright genocides. Still scarier were the metaphysical or occult Seraphs, that imagined themselves to be demons, underworld gods, extra-cosmic eldritch horrors, or even angels. Those with the angel complex, in fact, inspired the name Seraphs among me and my colleagues in the first place.
"Miguel" - Case B-453, is in my chair today. I have reclined him, and bound his hands to the arms of the chair with nylon constraints. His eyes are open, and he's looking straight at me. Miguel is my greatest challenge yet, and I am determined to win his mind back to reality, at least enough to make him functional and cognizant of his true reality once more. He terrifies me more, I admit, than any other patient I've had.
"I see you, demon," he says coldly. He has somehow managed to access a lower set of vocal cords--not unprecedented, but a phenomenon still being studied. His voice is deep, like the low, bone-jarring hum of an earthquake miles below the surface.
"I am your doctor," I inform him, as I always do. "I am here to help you, Miguel. You are dreaming, and I will wake you up."
Miguel laughs a deep, booming laugh. His eyes are terribly bloodshot, constantly streaming tears, because he has either forgotten to blink or the parasympathetic nerves that would normally do so have been crushed or incorportated into the neuron clusters that constitute his percieved ego as the Angel.
"I am tearing your hair out, demon," he says.
"Doctor," I correct him again. "And you are not physically interacting with me at all."
Miguel smiles. His teeth are yellow, broken, apparently due to him having chewed on metal screws and nails before he was recovered from his home for care.
"But I am," laughs Miguel. "I interract with all. I am not dreaming, but you are. You have dreamed yourself into my world."
For a moment--though it can only be my imagination--I feel my hair flicked atop my head, as though fingers have quickly run through it. At most, it must be the breeze from the air conditioner.
"I am playing with your heart," says Miguel. "It's not such a strong heart. I'm squeezing it."
I see his hand, bound to the chair at the wrist, opening and closing.
"You are n--"
My heart has started to palpitate, my pulse suddenly increasing. There is a pain growing in my chest. Blood thunders in a torrent through the arteries in my chest and neck.
"Miguel," I say, frightened now, sweating profusely, "I want you to stop this...th-this talk."
"But not my hand?" says Miguel, smiling toothily. His bloodshot eyes leak, holding laughter in their depths. "If I spread my wings, I shall fly away with your heart on my palm, demon."
"Miguel!"
The pain is increasing, spreading to my shoulder. Numbness floods my left arm.
"Miguel! Angel! Angel, stop!"
"So you know who I am," says Miguel. He opens his hand wide, and the pain coursing through the entire left side of my body begins to subside. I fight to hold back tears. My heart still pounds--but slowly, to my immense relief, I can feel it fighting to recover its normal pace and strength. My head grows light as my blood pressure subsides.
"Angel..."
"You know who I am now," says Miguel. "You have felt my strength and my mercy."
"You believe you have evolved," I choke out, barely able to speak, rising to flee the room. My head swoons again.
"Not belief," he laughs wildly, ripping his arms from the constraints. "You are in my reality. All of you are. This demonic planet is now the domain of the Angel. All will feel me soon--feel my justice rain upon them."
I run out of the room, hearing his laugh in my ears, screaming for my secretary, security, *anyone*.
I feel my hair flicked with playfully, as the Angel toys with his subject.
...If you enjoyed this story, more can be found over at r/PrimitivePrism. Cheers! | 2021-02-09T21:36:12 | 2021-02-09T20:48:42 | 72 | 27 |
[WP] The ritual calls for 100 sacrifices, but reading carefully you realize it never specified they had to be human. Deciding to be a smartass, you got a petri dish full of bacteria and sacrificed that instead.
reposting an old prompt | When I realized that the ceremony called for 100 "sacrifices" and not 100 "souls", I had a terrible idea. And like all my terrible ideas, I have to try them out to see just how absolutely abysmal they actually are.
There were plenty of petri dishes in that basement lab, and many of those cultures had grown exponentially to populations of over one hundred. There was nothing preventing me from using any of those in the ritual, other than Dr. Weiszmann getting perturbed when I'd tell him I "accidentally broke" a dish and disposed of it properly. And, of course, that assumed that my bizarre plan actually worked.
So I found a dish with the correct sample size, maybe a few cells over, and set it down in the center of the room. I drew a chalk circle after 6 feet around it and retreated to a safe distance, where I hoped the pressboard desk would protect me from any accidental acts of Incarnate Evil destruction.
I read the incantation off my phone, having found it on a website of dubious authenticity, which I made sure to open in incognito mode.
At first nothing happened. Then the petri dish started to glow an eerily reddish-yellow of a campfire with the smell of a can of rancid beans cooking. A few seconds later, I heard a loud pop like the bean can exploding because it wasn't properly vented.
The petri dish had disappeared, and in its place, there was a hole. Not a hole in the floor, mind you. Just a hole. In the air. In the space just above the ground. It was maybe two inches across and glowing red hot.
Curiosity got the better of me and I abandoned my flimsy sanctuary. I drew closer to the chalk circle, and then something, some thing, thrust itself through the hole. Eight inches of inglorious hell, tipped with a sharp claw, waggled around. I kept my distance.
Hair on my back already stood on edge screaming , but then the short hairs on my neck joined in the chorus with the demonic finger from beyond started to slowly rise into the air, dragging the hole with it. When it reached a height of about seven feet, the finger withdrew and a more horrifying thing took its place.
There was an eye pressed against the hole. I could make out a black pupil surrounded by red, but I could tell the entire ball was many times longer. Terrified as I was, I was still glad that I didn't have take in the sight of the whole thing.
"What have you done?" The voice was eerie and ominous. It repeated, "What have you done?"
"I-- I-- I was just reading about a ritual and --"
"--And you did it WRONG!" the demon chastised. "What sort of portal is this?"
I could barely speak. "It's ... it's ..."
"Come closer. I can't hear you."
The eye disappear to be replaced with what I hoped was an ear. I took a few steps closer to the circle when a long thing elastic piece of leathery flesh snapped out at me. A snakelike tongue brushed against my arm. I jumped away, screaming from the burning sensation. My entire arm reddened. The tongue rolled back like a party favor.
Having a terrible premonition, I launched myself over the desk just as it unfurled, but inside of tooting a horn, it spit and splashed buckets of acid where I'd been standing, contaminating and destroying every culture it touched.
I also heard the sizzle of my phone's battery being fried. It was followed by a "Gah!" and a Pop!
When everything was quiet except for the sizzling of burning pressboard, I dared to peek over the top. The hole in the air had vanished, only to be replaced with a more conventional hole in the floor just inside the circle. It was snake-shaped and seemed to cut deeply. The acid tongue had sunken down. Peering into it, I couldn't see how far down it had fallen. I wondered how much acid its glands retained and if that slimy worm was going to sink all the way back to Hell.
—-
More stories at r/xwhy
Edits: typos | Antonios rubbed his eyes, tired from the strain. He had just spent the last hour staring deeply at a collection of mites sitting on a polished stone dish. It had taken him a long time to harvest the bodies of these mites meticulously from various leaves, vines, insects, worms, some small animals, and even birds. There were all sorts of tiny mites crawling around on the dish, and when he focused his eyes he could even see that they were different from each other.
Antonios sat back on the ground outside and looked out towards the setting sun. The light was now too dim to really make out the tiny creatures he had harvested. Of course once he let them onto the stone dish those that were still alive would fly out, but the dead mites remained. These were the smallest creatures Antonios had ever spied, smaller than bugs and flies that all people were aware of. Could there be creatures even smaller?
The elderly man rose up and picked up the large urn next to him full of tiny mites and the various dead bodies of the creatures and plants he had harvested them from. It was time to return to his small home in the village after a long day of gathering the little creatures. It was time for dinner.
-----
A bright fire lit the darkened village. Antonios squinted down at the many figures gathered around the fire. He could hear the faint sounds of music, singing, and clapping. Ah yes the festival was now in full swing. He wondered to himself what delicious foods had been prepared. At first Antonios had been reluctant to return to his childhood village after living in the cosmopolitan Pella, but he was now reminded of the delicious rustic meals of the countryside. Antonios made his way down the hill toward his home.
Outside of his small stone house stood a few men, who looked somewhat impatient. They had knocked open his door and turned to look at him with scorn.
“You have finally decided to return?” derided Antypomos, the largest of the small group, “where are all the sheep?”
Oh blast! Antonios had forgotten to order the gathering of the flock for the festival. But he had never held the gods in much esteem. He had flaunted them behind closed doors with a few other students in his time of study and nothing had ever happened to him. Perhaps he could connive something.
“Oh gentlemen,” Antonios greeted them with a smile, “I have something even better. Come! Come follow your village priest.”
There was an audible groan from a few of them as they fell into line behind Antonios as he headed towards the lively festival.
-----
Antonios made his way to the fire. The music, singing, and dancing began to abate as the crowd noticed him pushing through. Antonios climbed onto a stone table to address the crowd near the fire.
“Fellow villagers! I have returned!”
He noticed the quizzical looks on some of the villagers, though some looked with more looks of scorn.
“I have come to save us some trouble!”
There was a nervousness that began to buzz through the crowd.
“Every year we sacrifice 100s of sheep in our many celebratory libations! But what if we did not have to sacrifice all those plump and wool laden sheep?”
There was now a murmur that rose up from his fellow townsfolk. Antonios raised his urn above his head.
“In here I have collected hundreds of creatures, and dare I say there may be thousands unseen!”
The crowd began to chatter in low confusion.
“Behold! The gods will be satisfied and we will have our sheep!”
Antonios tossed the urn into the fire, and it burst into shards. Antonios laughed but was greeted with silence. He turned back to the crowd, many of whom were now glaring at him.
“What was in there?” shouted someone from the crowd.
“You need not-”
“What. Was. In. There?” an angry Antypomos asked threateningly as he approached Antonios, “Was it your bugs you are always gaping at?”
“No, no,” Antonios replied, the nervousness trickling out through his voice.
“You heretic!” someone yelled.
“You are a shame to your brother!”
“Why did you even come back?”
“Now, now, let us not-” Antonios began to implore the crowd. His reply was cut short as he felt something slam into the back of his head. He stumbled forward but his old legs managed to catch him before he fell off the table. The crowd was now jeering.
“You are a heretic!”
“How could you cheat the gods? In the very sight of Mount Olympus!”
“Do you want to doom us all?”
Antonios felt another stone hit his side.
“Wait!” he cried out, “tomorrow! We will gather the sheep tomorrow!”
Another stone hit him, followed by another. Antonios now clutched his head and ducked down. The crowd was now angrily jeering all around him.
“Kill him!” a man shouted, “Kill the arrogant bastard!”
Antonios now felt someone grab his leg and pull him down from the table. His back hit the hard stone with a solid thwack. Another stone hit him painfully in the chest, thrown from right next to him. The jeering was all he could hear as he dizzily tried to regain a sense of his surroundings. He held his hand up to shield himself as he tried to utter a defense. Another rock slammed into him and knocked the wind out of him. Followed by another and another. The crowd surged forward, swallowing up the old scholar with their shouts.
-----
The hawk’s talons squeezed the small sparrow’s body. She peered down at her quarry, now unmoving. Satisfied with her catch she glanced up toward the setting sun. She had managed to find something before all the light was gone. Clutching the lifeless body of her next meal she hopped forward and caught a gust of wind underneath her wings and rose up into the air. Her nest was much further below the summit but she would be able to make it back before dark. She banked her wings and turned toward the east, gliding down away from the empty windswept crest of Mount Olympus. | 2021-06-08T10:40:12 | 2021-06-08T08:47:07 | 142 | 106 |
[WP] It started as a spur of the moment trip with your friends. Despite your best efforts you are the only one left alive and the slasher is closing in on your position. While you lament the loss of your friends now that you are alone... Now you can show the slasher what a REAL monster looks like. | The cloaked killer stalked the forest floor, watching the cabin intently. The trails in the ground where the bodies had been dragged led him right to the front door. The last survivor, with nothing but the corpses of his friends to protect him. Soon. Soon, everyone back at school would know how badly they had fucked up, with their jabbing mockery and snide condescension. Every whore and Chad would be falling to their knees to beg forgiveness as the Uprising began.
The trails stopped at the door. No signs of moving across the foyer. The killer tried the handle. Locked, of course. As he jiggled the handle, lights and music burst forth from the cabin.
It had gone from a still tomb to a roaring festival. Silhouettes of people moved around, music played loudly, the lights shone so brightly they blinded the killer for a moment as he readjusted his vision. They were dead, all of them! He had slit their throats himself! So how were they suddenly throwing a party?!
Peeking into the windows, he saw the partygoers clearly. Cardboard. Cardboard cutouts, tied to... trains on the ground? What was this?!
The Killer went to the door, shook the hadle violently, and rammed the door open. As he crossed the foyer, he felt himself hit some wires on the floor. A bucket of water fell onto him. And tipped over from their spot on the doorjam, a car battery.
The car battery fell into the pool of water, and the killer took a nasty shock. The spasms of electrocution forced him out of the water, and he lay gasping on the floor, listening to the jaunty music and watching the cardboard cutouts 'dance'. The killer stood to his feet, and before he could catch it he hit another tripwire.
THUNK! THUNK! Inches from the killer's face, two nails shot into the wall beside him, narrowly avoiding impaling him in the head. He looked arond wildly, fear in his gaze as he heard laughter ring out.
"Do you give up? Or are you thirsty for more?"
He followed the voice, to the upper level. The last survivor of the preppy assholes who had rented this cabin. He charged up the stairs, only to be blinded and thrown backwards as a heavy object collided directly with his face.
The killer screamed in pain, and through his blackening vision he saw a full paint bucket dangling from a rope in the ceiling, his blood spattered across it. A figure walked calmly down the stairs, stopping to loom over him. The killer scrambled to recover, only to feel the nailgun penetrate his feet and pin the to the floor.
As the killer screamed, Kevin, the ultimate survivor, leaned in close and smiled cheerfully. He held the nailgun to the killer's forehead. "Keep the change, you filthy animal." | I found my friend beside his jeep. . I told him to go. Get out as fast as he could. But he got in his jeep and waited for me. Now his loyalty had cost him his life. I could see the scene as though I had been here. The running engine, the driver side window shattered inward. The torn seatbelt from Eric being torn from the vehicle. Then the wash of blood as the stalker beheaded him with a machete.
Was it only two days ago we drove up here? My mother had passed. I had spent a week sitting on my living room floor wondering what I intended to do. Eric had come to check on me. His larp group was looking at buying some land permanently. He was going up to look it over and see what they would need to do to make it proper and safe. A bit of time out of civilization he said. Out in fresh air and sunlight.
I was feeling almost normal as we drove up. He always picked out some cheery movie songs. Things meant to make you feel inspired. The further from people we got the better I felt. The anger melting away for a while. I liked to joke we had been friends so long I forget which one of us was the bad influence.
First night was quiet. We did some dogs over a small fire. Slept in bags without a tent. Probably stupid since the state had supposedly reintroduced wolves to the area. But he was confident and I didn't care. It was the second day we found the first body while we were hiking the area. A wolf alright. Caught in one of those bear traps they show in cartoons. Its throat cut deep. Eric had no cell signal. So we doubled back and found the bridge over the ravine had collapsed in the middle. Eric was nervous and remembered according to the map the trail circled back around to where we had camped. I noted the steel cables at the bottom of the ravine. Not part of the bridge, but good enough to yank the center supports on the old thing.
We must have been at the top of the trail when we found the first human body. Much like the wolf, caught in a trap and then killed. Eric took a couple pictures and we started hurrying. Every body we found he took a picture and we moved on. When we saw 'him' it was a perfect movie moment. Tall broad, and the old hockey mask. Eric looked at me and when he looked back the Jason doppelgänger was gone. He decided whoever this psycho was we needed to go faster. So we ran.
I was never faster than Eric but he paced himself and I moved ahead of him. The loud snap of the trap jaws slamming on my ankle and I went sprawling. Eric bless him stopped and saw the teeth buried in the side of my boot. He couldn't release the trigger and open it. I told him to run. Get out fast as he could.
Everyone always called me paranoid. I looked over the trap calmer than most. My emotions draining away like a false mask. I pulled apart the mechanism to hold the device together. Then I followed.
Looking down at him I stepped to my left and ducked even as I kicked backward with my 'bad' foot. The sound of the machete going over my head a mild sound compared to the yelp of pain as I caught the wannabe stalker in the groin. He staggered back dropping his blade. I give him credit for recovering. He stepped forward to punch me. But my uncle had taught me to punch punches. And one of my knives was between my knuckles at the time. His scream was almost satisfying. . . Almost. I kicked him away and slowly walked over to where he was clutching his bleeding hand. I simply stomped on his good wrist to hear a nice crack.
I never hurried. I think he yelled. Maybe begged. But I pinned his arms down and staked them to the ground by a knife through the palm. Then I did his feet. I cut off all his clothes as he begged. Then I tried my hand at skinning. I botched it I am sure. But I did get his skin off and he was still alive.
I went to my bag and pulled out an old PRC-90 radio. I set the emergency beacon and walked away. The military and police descended on the place. They found it all and the 'monster' told them everything.
"You're probably wondering why I stopped you to tell you all this? Your backup at the door with the glock? Already has a knife up into his brains. You brought this on yourself. You cut in line and spilled my coffee. . ." | 2021-10-07T13:55:06 | 2021-10-07T11:11:10 | 36 | 13 |
[WP] It started as a spur of the moment trip with your friends. Despite your best efforts you are the only one left alive and the slasher is closing in on your position. While you lament the loss of your friends now that you are alone... Now you can show the slasher what a REAL monster looks like. | I'm a psychopath. Not the ones you see in movies where the guy is laughing his ass off at nothing, in the mental asylum, with his arms cuffed in a straightjacket. Psychopaths don't feel anything. Literally. No emotions inside our heads. We're still fully capable of rational thought, but emotion just... doesn't factor into it.
I've learned to mimic feelings over my growing years. I'd made some friends in high school, and they thought I was a blast; maybe I was the quietest member of the group, but they'd always crack up whenever I made a witty comment. We'd decided to go on a trip into some isolated woods a la Blair Witch Project, just for a bit of fun.
Of course, that fun was cut short immediately. We'd heard a blood-curdling scream from Jen, and found her strung in an upside-down pentagram, with each limb embedded using a knife. A poorly-written note was taped to her, reading "I SEE YOU".
I know what I should've done. I should've taken a knife and stabbed the fucker to death with it. But I didn't want to alienate myself; my ability to make friends was poor, and they'd more or less adopted me into their group. And so I bided my time, and one by one, each of them fell, their hearts silent.
The shiv I'd hastily crafted was fragile, but it would do. The killer knew where I was, now: after all, there was nowhere else to run. He cackled maniacally, remorselessly. "You don't know what's in store for you, kiddo..."
Usually, I would kill him, and that would be that, yet... something deep inside of me wants something more. This man deserves a punishment. It was at precisely that moment I marked this wannabe slasher as the unluckiest person in the world. I wouldn't kill him, merely bring him to the brink, then call the hospital, act like I was a pedestrian. I'm very good at acting, after all.
The first few times were in remembrance of each of my friends, then I'd get creative. A vivisection here, a broken leg there. I wanted to make sure that he always was and always would be an amateur. A person with no restraint would make sure it would cause as much anguish as possible before death.
It's been six years, two since the man could take no more and killed himself. The case has gone cold, the police don't know anything beyond the injuries. A true crime documentary was made about me called "Ouroboros". When I *do* eventually meet up with the Devil, I'd like to give him some points of advice on torture. | I found my friend beside his jeep. . I told him to go. Get out as fast as he could. But he got in his jeep and waited for me. Now his loyalty had cost him his life. I could see the scene as though I had been here. The running engine, the driver side window shattered inward. The torn seatbelt from Eric being torn from the vehicle. Then the wash of blood as the stalker beheaded him with a machete.
Was it only two days ago we drove up here? My mother had passed. I had spent a week sitting on my living room floor wondering what I intended to do. Eric had come to check on me. His larp group was looking at buying some land permanently. He was going up to look it over and see what they would need to do to make it proper and safe. A bit of time out of civilization he said. Out in fresh air and sunlight.
I was feeling almost normal as we drove up. He always picked out some cheery movie songs. Things meant to make you feel inspired. The further from people we got the better I felt. The anger melting away for a while. I liked to joke we had been friends so long I forget which one of us was the bad influence.
First night was quiet. We did some dogs over a small fire. Slept in bags without a tent. Probably stupid since the state had supposedly reintroduced wolves to the area. But he was confident and I didn't care. It was the second day we found the first body while we were hiking the area. A wolf alright. Caught in one of those bear traps they show in cartoons. Its throat cut deep. Eric had no cell signal. So we doubled back and found the bridge over the ravine had collapsed in the middle. Eric was nervous and remembered according to the map the trail circled back around to where we had camped. I noted the steel cables at the bottom of the ravine. Not part of the bridge, but good enough to yank the center supports on the old thing.
We must have been at the top of the trail when we found the first human body. Much like the wolf, caught in a trap and then killed. Eric took a couple pictures and we started hurrying. Every body we found he took a picture and we moved on. When we saw 'him' it was a perfect movie moment. Tall broad, and the old hockey mask. Eric looked at me and when he looked back the Jason doppelgänger was gone. He decided whoever this psycho was we needed to go faster. So we ran.
I was never faster than Eric but he paced himself and I moved ahead of him. The loud snap of the trap jaws slamming on my ankle and I went sprawling. Eric bless him stopped and saw the teeth buried in the side of my boot. He couldn't release the trigger and open it. I told him to run. Get out fast as he could.
Everyone always called me paranoid. I looked over the trap calmer than most. My emotions draining away like a false mask. I pulled apart the mechanism to hold the device together. Then I followed.
Looking down at him I stepped to my left and ducked even as I kicked backward with my 'bad' foot. The sound of the machete going over my head a mild sound compared to the yelp of pain as I caught the wannabe stalker in the groin. He staggered back dropping his blade. I give him credit for recovering. He stepped forward to punch me. But my uncle had taught me to punch punches. And one of my knives was between my knuckles at the time. His scream was almost satisfying. . . Almost. I kicked him away and slowly walked over to where he was clutching his bleeding hand. I simply stomped on his good wrist to hear a nice crack.
I never hurried. I think he yelled. Maybe begged. But I pinned his arms down and staked them to the ground by a knife through the palm. Then I did his feet. I cut off all his clothes as he begged. Then I tried my hand at skinning. I botched it I am sure. But I did get his skin off and he was still alive.
I went to my bag and pulled out an old PRC-90 radio. I set the emergency beacon and walked away. The military and police descended on the place. They found it all and the 'monster' told them everything.
"You're probably wondering why I stopped you to tell you all this? Your backup at the door with the glock? Already has a knife up into his brains. You brought this on yourself. You cut in line and spilled my coffee. . ." | 2021-10-07T14:58:07 | 2021-10-07T11:11:10 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] An Isekai but instead of a young boy being transported to a fantasy world it's an orcish barbarian transported to a Japanese highschool. | "Remind me again, you were WHAT yesterday?"
"An Orc," said Hiro.
"So you should be able to crush that guy, right!?" whined Yusuke as a rock sailed over their hiding space.
"Yeah, *should.* I also *should* be at least a meter taller than this," Hiro hissed as he laced his shoe for the fifth time that afternoon. The former Orc had woken up in the body of a frail, willowy boy that morning for reasons his mind wouldn't quite let him remember. The giant crab had appeared hours later as if specifically to taunt him.
"What about battle tactics?" asked Yusuke. "You still know how to distract monsters, right?"
"Unless you know a good way to get to the band room from here, that's not gonna happen," said Hiro.
"Band room?"
"Orc bards are a thing," Hiro said.
The Kaiju roared and crashed its huge claw against the ground, causing dust and debris to fall like rain onto the remains of the science wing.
"Look, the monster's here to fight you, right?" asked Yusuke.
"Unless there's another Orc in the school, probably," said Hiro.
"Then there's a way to defeat it," said Yusuke. "Nobody ever dies from the first monster. It's an isekai rule."
"Are you talking about those stupid light novels again?" Hiro groaned. From the moment they'd ran into each other at the bus station that morning, Yusuke hadn't shut up about some story or another. It was as if when he wasn't chattering, he was reading.
"What's the problem?" asked Yusuke. "Someone wakes up in another world and immediately a monster shows up to cause trouble. It's a classic setup."
"But this isn't a book," said Hiro.
"And kaiju are supposed to be movie monsters, yet here we are."
"That makes more sense than I'd like it to."
The boys peeked over the edge of the overturned table they hid behind to discover the crab had begun to scuttle off in the opposite direction. Following behind it was a line of students ensnared in a horrible trance.
"It's leading them towards the ocean!" Yusuke yelled. "Hiro, you gotta Pied Piper them back here!"
"Pie the pipes? What?" asked Hiro
"Its a Western folk tale," Yusuke said. "See, there's a town in the old country that's over run by rats, and the king doesn't know what to do, but then, this weird guy shows up, and--"
"They're going to be neck deep in water if you don't hurry it up!" yelled Hiro.
"The piper leads people around with a magical flute," Yusuke said. "If you're a bard, you might be able to do the same kind of spell."
"I can't do that kind of thing on my own," Hiro said. "I need a mage to enchant the flute before I play it. So, unless you know someone who loves reading and talks way too much..."
Slowly the boys' gazes met each other.
"You're kidding," said Yusuke.
"I wish I was," said Hiro.
"But I don't have any magic!" said Yusuke.
"And kaiju aren't supposed to exist."
"That makes more sense than I'd like it to."
With that, the boys scrambled towards the band room, each of them hoping that it wouldn't be too hard to pick up piccolo fingering.
*For more weirdness, check out* r/OctOpusTales *!* | Gurlag the Bloody looked down at his hands. They were huge, wide enough to wrap around a goblin's head with ease, perfect for bloody combat. But that was the problem: Gurlag was terrible at fighting. All of his Orc friends had slain tens, even hundreds of combatants in the Orcish Wars of Milrok, but Gurlag had been hit in the head with an elvish arrow as soon as he'd stepped foot on the battlefield. When he awoke, dazed, blood dripping down his face, the battle was over. A druid was checking all the bodies, healing those who were still breathing. Gurlag tried to get the druid's attention, but when the druid saw him moving, he turned away.
"Please, help me", Gurlag had croaked out, his voice scratchy and coarse.
"I don't treat Orcs," the druid responded. "Find a shaman instead."
Gurlag had waited hours, his head burning from the elvish magic, trying to gather enough strength to return to his colony. Eventually, a passing shaman saw him and healed his head wound, but the curse remained. As Gurlag returned home, his vision swimming, his head thumping like a war drum, he imagined what his friends and family would say.
*You loser!* Mordeng, his brother, would taunt him, *I personally reached into a paladin's chest, and forced him to eat his own heart. What did you do again? Oh yeah, you got shot.*
Gurlag knew he would never be as good of a fighter as his brother. His parents certainly felt the same way. His eyes blurred, the vision loss from the curse combining with the tears dripping down his eyes, rendering him nearly blind. As he stumbled back in the direction of home, he heard an urgent voice, rapidly getting closer.
"Watch out!", the rogue shouted, his horse galloping directly towards Gurlag. Gurlag jumped, trying to scramble out of the way, but his head was pounding so hard, he could barely tell which direction the voice was coming from. His legs turned to jelly, and all he could do was turn towards the horse, throwing up his hands in a futile act of protection.
As the horse made contact, Gurlag's vision seemed to fill with a bright, blinding light. Gurlag winced, knowing that the pain would be hitting him soon. He waited, and waited, but the feeling of getting trampled to death never came. Eventually, after enough time had passed to make him a bit confused, he opened his eyes. The horse was gone. The rogue was gone. In fact, the whole battlefield was gone. Gurlag blinked, confused.
Around him, rows of tiny chairs and tables were arranged in lines, with strange papers and books filled with even stranger letterings stacked neatly on top. Gurlag looked around, wondering if it was a dream. Perhaps he had fallen into a coma after being struck by the arrow. But the room was too solid, the surroundings too detailed to be the product of a fever dream or a delusion. And yet, the constant pain in his head was gone. Not even the best healers could cure a curse that quickly.
Suddenly, a loud ringing broke the silence. A low, throaty growl escaped from Gurlag. The bells sounded close, but he couldn't see any nearby. *Witchcraft* he thought, preparing himself for a battle with a Sorcerer or Wizard. They were slippery opponents, always with a trick up their sleeve.
As he got ready to be blinded or hit with an invisible force, a stream of creatures entered from the doorway. They all looked the same, covered in white and blue robes that were quite different from those worn by any of the races he had seen before. As they noticed him, they seemed to shrink away in fear, shrieking and chattering in a strange tongue.
Gurlag tilted his head, wondering what kind of strange land he had been transported to. This movement further terrified the creatures. All of them were small, bigger than goblins, but much weaker looking. The biggest one, who was dressed in a different color, hesitantly approached. It seemed to be the leader of the pack.
When the strange creature got close enough, Gurlag reached out and grabbed it. Even though he had been gentle, the crack of bones still echoed throughout the room. The creatures devolved into hysteria, screaming and running from him. Gurlag watched them go, then looked down at the one he had captured. It had stopped moving. As the life left its body, Gurlag felt a warm sensation creeping up into his arm. He felt a surge of strength, his arms bulging and his grip tightening.
*What is this?* Gurlag wondered, *Does killing these puny weaklings make me stronger? If I keep this up, maybe I'll finally be able to fight in the war, without holding everybody back. Maybe I'll even be able to beat Mordeng!*
With passion blazing in his eyes, Gurlag tore through the door, stomping into the hall. Around him, he heard the screams of those small creatures, and felt the ground vibrate as many tiny footsteps echoed, running from him. From *Gurlag*! The corners of Gurlag's mouth twitched up into a horrific smile. He was going to get stronger. No matter what. | 2021-10-16T09:45:03 | 2021-10-16T08:39:24 | 51 | 20 |
[WP] The local costumed vigilantes coordinate their schedules so everyone has a chance to brood on the really cool lookout point above the city. | !!IMPORTANT!!
 
SCHEDULING
All slots are one hour, to accommodate any delays or miscellaneous what-ifs. Yes, we will all get our turn. There are not that many costumed in this city
 
Various reasons provided in past schedules are:
Complicated costume
Robbery cropped up
Costume stuck
Meeting with mayor of the city
Needed to keep secret identity (if not my boyfriend would leave me)
Multiple costumes to test
We don’t care what happens. Just show up, do your brooding, and then get out!
 
RESPECT EACH OTHER’S PRIVACY
We get it. Some of you like to take off your masks as some strange show of respect. Not everybody wants to do that! Don’t assume somebody wants YOU to be looking at them while they change!
If you arrive early or late to a slot, DON’T PEEK!!
 
ONE BROODING SESSION PER WEEK
We all have hard days. We all have hard weeks. But please, you do not need to brood every day. It’s not healthy, and quote from VIGILANTE magazine cover model Kamikaze: “It has a certain charm to it, but doing it every day does nothing for me.”
Get some other hobby. Talk to your loved ones. Talk to your friends (costumed or non-costumed.) Punch an evildoer. But it doesn’t look good to brood all the time!
P.S. Please don’t take slots from other people. Seriously. That’s a real dick move. You are supposed to be heroes!
---
r/dexdrafts | "All right, so Bionis has it on Sunday, he's due to fight with one of his minor league villains then, and will most likely feel bad about something." I made a note on the giant calendar I had hanging in my tiny office. Jamming the phone under my ear, I sighed. "And you're sure he'll be out of there before dinner? Only I have one of the more night-based vigilantes coming around 8 o'clock and I need to make sure the spot is clean." Squawking noises came from the other end of the phone, which I let drop to the end of its cord. I had heard all that outrage before. Bionis' sidekick would go on for about ten minutes, which meant I had time to make a coffee. I almost made it out of the office before the red phone rang. Snatching up the other one, I raised my voice, interrupting the tirade.
"Look! I've heard this and it always ends up in you admitting that while he's messy he can't help it. As long as he's out by dinnertime. Yes, the usual rates apply. Good. See ya." Clicking the phone rather hard into its receiver, where it immediately started ringing, I snatched up the red phone. "Hello. Brook's Co-ordination at your service. What can I help you with—"
"Oh, knock it off, you know who I am. I need the lookout spot cleared pronto. She's really in a mood today."
"Look, you know I can't do that on such short notice." A smile spread across my face. Some might even say it was a slightly evil smile. "Unless of course, you're willing to pay for it." A sigh came from the other side of the line. In the background, I could hear glass smashing, and was that a chainsaw?
"Okay, how much this time? I swear the price goes up every time." Having got the agreement, I named a figure in the high thousands. Getting off the phone, as my cellphone dinged with the wire transfer, I slipped to the other side of the office. There were about four different phones here, each connected to someone very specific. Picking one up, I waited.
"Yeah? What is it?" The voice oozed anger.
"Look, I need you to attack Askerian tonight. The usual fee." There was a pause on the other end before the voice growled a "yes" and hung up. On to the next one. Those two went off without a hitch, but the last one was always the most difficult.
"Hello, dearie what's crack-a-lackin'?" I bit back a sigh. It was always hard to reason with insanity.
"I need you to attack you-know-who tonight. He's got the spot booked up and I have an emergency. Besides, you've been quiet for a while, maybe this would be a fun time?" A low giggle started on the other end of the phone. It grew in intensity until I had to hold it away from my ear. Finally finishing, there was a click from the other end. Great.
Grabbing my coat, I locked the office, ignoring the constant ringing of the phones. Now I had to make sure that the villain actually attacked the vigilante. Being a coordinator wasn't an easy job, but with the market the way it was, well, you take what you can get. | 2022-07-02T11:23:16 | 2022-07-02T07:27:02 | 41 | 17 |
[WP] Your oldest child, who had been your daughter has informed you that she has transitioned to male. Problem is, you promised your first born son to the devil and his younger brother has been in Hell for years. This could be complicated. | "Well, it's not like I have a fucking registry, Mike!" Lucifer sweeps his hair back against his head and sighs, spinning the ice in his glass, "Only conservatives say it's my domain. I don't think Jesus taught about the transgender community... though that would be the most *salacious* episode of VeggieTales."
"Well, what do we do?! We agreed on one son. You *took* one son. Now there's another!"
"Yeah, but you can't just show up in *my fucking club* and, what? Expect me to give up Junior!" I'm stunned for a moment. *He named my kid after himself?* I remember who I'm working with, and the feeling passes. "Nice of you to immediately accept him, though. I thought Catholic school would've trained acceptance out of you."
"Acceptance is part of love. You can't love someone if you can't accept them. And I've always loved Theresa. I'll keep loving Terry." Something clicks. "Love. That's what we'll do."
"Michael, you're a wonderful man, but I need thorough foreplay before we ca--"
"No. No, think about it, Lu. What do people do when they love each other and decide they want to spend the rest of their lives together?"
"They get married. And more recently, they get divorced. And then murder their spouse in a custody battle and end up down he-- Custody. We can adopt each other's children. We'd have joint guardianship. We'd fulfill our little deal."
"And *then* we'd get a divorce. We'd file for joint custody so we *continue* to keep the deal so there's no cosmic blowback if I meet someone. We'll even have Raguel preside over everything so it's fair. You'll have to kiss ass for it, but I'm sure he'd come."
"Michael, you're a genius. I knew there was a reason I'm marrying you," He stands, sweeps back his coat, "I'll try to find a lawyer downstairs to make a nice pre-nup. And another one for the divorce proceeding. You'll have to find three hours you can be free sometime next week."
"Three hours? We're not doing a real ceremony, Lucifer, we're just signing some papers."
"No, we're getting married. Remember, I'll need *thorough* foreplay when we consummate." | # Soulmage
**Agonizingly, the shattered fragments of my soul melted together in the demond's hands.** Moments later, a body coalesced into existence around what was left of my soul, and Zhytln stepped back, wiping blood off of his worn bartender's suit.
I blinked once, the stench of sulfur and the howling red glare assaulting my temporary body, and grimaced.
"How long have I been dead for?" I asked.
Zhytln held up a hand and wiggled it side to side. "Seventeen, eighteen years? Long enough that your sons have grown up."
I exhaled. Sacrificing Quianna's unborn child had been painful, but we would have all been killed in the yearly witch-raids without a protector of some kind. Even if the rifts that had opened in the final battle had killed me, it was a relief to know that the sacrifice had not been in—
Wait.
Sons?
"Did Quianna... no, she couldn't have been pregnant. Did I have another child that I was unaware of?"
Zhytln scoffed. "Perhaps, but that is not my concern. I deal in *souls*, not flesh; your children are those whose hearts and minds you have impacted as a parental figure, not those whose bodies you have helped form."
A chill went down my spine. "Then—the other children in the village—"
Zhytln waved away my concerns. "Please. You may have been a kind man in life, but the connections in soulspace between you and the other children of the village is not nearly strong enough to pull one of their souls into my domain. No, the situation is complicated by the fact that a child whom you called a daughter has since revealed himself to be your son."
I paused. "Then—Sa—"
"His name is Cienne now," Zhytln absent-mindedly said. "I don't blame you for not knowing; there are few mortal witches who have enough talent to read the entirety of a soul at such a young age."
The demon's deceptively calm voice set me on edge. "I swear to you, on whatever is left of my soul, that I did not intend to deceive you when we made our deal," I said.
"Oh, I know," Zhytln absently said. "You're nothing but a soul now, and you're a soul in my domain. You could not deceive me if you tried. No, I've brought you back to consciousness in order to collect upon the debts I am rightfully owed."
I scowled. "I know your limitations, Zhytln. If you speak the truth, it's been over a decade since I've seen S—Cienne. Whatever bond between us there was has atrophied; you are not nearly strong enough to exploit what little connection remains to drag him here."
"Yes, the brute-force solution would be a rather inefficient affair," Zhytln agreed. "Fortunately, I have a rather more... elegant... way of convincing Cienne to visit me."
Oh.
The answer to a question I hadn't even thought to ask suffocated me like a sinkhole in harvest season.
"That's why you brought me back," I whispered.
Zhytln's lips quirked up infinitesimally. "Oh, I do so enjoy working with intelligent people."
"You have to know I won't help you," I said. "Not even if it means saving Alnel."
"Your willing assistance is not required," Zhytln replied. "All that I need is Cienne's curiosity, and your simple existence will suffice."
Then, before I could dodge, the demon swiped a hand.
The world *snapped* around me, evicting me from the afterlife and sending me sprawling into an unfamiliar city, my clothes still smoking from the fires of Zhytln's domain.
A.N.
This story is part of Soulmage, an ongoing serial written in response to writing prompts. Check out the rest of the series [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=confidence), or browse r/bubblewriters for other stories by me! | 2022-08-31T20:10:38 | 2022-08-31T18:15:34 | 1,228 | 112 |
[WP] An elf, a dwarf, and a wizard are filling out the character sheets for their next game of Dayjobs and Drudgery, a role-playing game set in the world of humans.
Have fun! | "Matthias, what are you playing? I cant decide what I want to build," Ogden questioned, stroking his beard in one hand, his other hanging tentatively over a piece of paper.
"Oh, I am playing Phil Johnson, an HR representative who enjoys books and has a habit of having too many margaritas on taco Thursday at the local bar."
"Dude," Illandir said, rolling his eyes. "You always play HR representatives. They always get in the way of our character motivations."
"I do not. And if they do, maybe you should have better motivations," Matthias replied.
"What is better than Jennifer Swanson, a secretary who wants to go back to school to become a lawyer, but also can't shake the feeling that Derick from accounting is the man of her dreams."
"Dude that's an HR nightmare," Ogden quipped.
"Also, she recreationally uses pot most days after work," Illandir added. "But Ogden, we don’t have any party members in management. You should play a manager."
"Yeah, a well rounded party would be nice."
"Oh," Illandir jested. "I was thinking so you could fire the HR guy."
"I ought to find a new group to play with, " Matthias said as Ogden began writing 'manager' at the top of his page.
| Zi looked around the table, eyes switching from elf to dwarf, then back again. The elf smiled as he realized what Zi was doing, causing the dwarf to grimace.
"I may be short, but I can plant an axe in you just as easy as I could get an elven woman." The dwarf said, ale spilling as he made arm gestures to accompany the words. "Which is to say, very easy."
Zi laughed out loud and looked around. "What's your name?"
"Maybe I'll tell you later." The dwarf said.
"Kael," the elf replied.
"I'm Zi." The wizard stood and looked around the tavern. "No one else? Room for one more in D and D!"
An orc walked over, a weak smile on his hideous face.
"No way, not gonna happen," Kael said in a confident tone. "I've played D and D with orcs before. You people do *not* take losing well."
"Fine!" He rumbled. "I don't want to play with you anyway!"
Zi looked away from the orc with a forced smile. The wizard pretended he couldn't see the tears forming in tall gray orc's eyes, instead shifting to face the game-board. "So, let's play!"
---
"No fair," the unnamed dwarf slammed a fist into the table, knocking a chunk of wood to the ground. His dice was still resting on the center, the number '4' clearly showing. "The orc was starin' at me!"
Zi turned and saw an orc's head quickly duck behind a chair. Shaking his head, he once again faced the board. "Well, I don't see how that would affect your dice roll. Anyway, instead of completing Lisa's work for her and earning her trust, you don't finish anything and have to stay overtime."
"Look 'ere, you dumb wiz-"
"My turn yet?" Kael asked, boredom evident in his voice. "Or will we wait for another species to form an empire and overtake this one?"
The elf's hand grabbed the die and began shaking, before even deciding on an action, letting it loose with practiced ease. Before the dice came to a rest, a gray and scarred hand grabbed it. "I can't play?"
It was the orc.
"I'll show you how I play." The orc let the dice fall out of his hand and it sat still with the number '1' showing. "Ah!'
The orc's axe slammed into the center of the table, sharpened side cutting through as if it were elven silk.
The tavern grew quiet as eyes turned to the orc. As though he only just realized what he'd done, the orc smiled again and backed away slowly, two steps, before turning and sprinting out the door.
Zi blinked. Then he turned to the serving girl. "I'll have another pint."
"Make that two!" The unnamed dwarf called.
"I got the pint to share for us all," I said.
"Oh." The dwarf looked to the serving girl again. "Make it three!" | 2015-06-09T14:42:12 | 2015-06-09T14:41:50 | 367 | 49 |
[WP] You've come to save the princess, but she's not guarded by a dragon - She's guarded by a very aggressive goose.
**very** aggressive goose.
-------------------------------
Thanks for all your stories, keep them coming! | Against demons and the undead our hero was brave.
He slew many a bandit, dozens if thieves and knaves.
But when he quested to free Eliza the pale
His bravery wavered, withered and failed
Dragons he could slay with mighty sword and arrows loosed
But nothing is so fearsome as a Canadian Goose | We left the castle seven weeks past, a cavalry comprising 70 men and their horses. To slay the dragon – to save the princess. Through Duntroon we rode, admired by young beauties and despised by their fathers. On to Cragrock, where one bawdy lass remarked that she could be my princess and slay my dragon – I acquiesced. In Crescent Head we found a farrier who, with arms the size of trunk of oak, balanced our horses’ hooves in a number of days. He thought we might be close, but couldn’t be certain.
“No one, save for a baker in Mirewood, had been there and come back alive”, he said.
“A man has seen the princess?”, we enquired.
“An apocryphal tale”, he replied, smiling.
In the West Shallow Lord Alderidge was bitten by an adder and suffered a most violent fever. With crimson eyes and shallow breath, he was discharged and sent home with five of our party. That night we were greeted in Lost meadows by a lord who promised us a feast in our honour and pledged 10 men to our cause. Two days ride and we reached Mirewood, where news of our impending arrival had triggered a great social awakening amongst an otherwise dulled class of people. They imagined themselves important because we were to ride through their town. For us, it was only ever a matter of geography. At the edge of the county we crossed paths with a baker.
“You off to see the princess then?”, he said.
"To save the princess - to slay the dragon”, we chanted.
“Tell you what, I’ll give you a mornings baking for all em horses”.
We scoffed and rode on.
Two days and two nights ride, and when we finally arrived, there the princess stood in her bastion – a figure of tremendous beauty. A great quaking in the earth and rumble in woods ensued, and we knew the dragon was close.
“I have 85 of the strongest men and their horses”, I remarked triumphantly to the princess.
“No good”, she said. “Have you got any bread?”
| 2015-07-28T06:17:18 | 2015-07-28T05:05:18 | 47 | 24 |
[WP] People level their skills in an RPG fashion and are conscious of their sudden jumps from novice to journeyman and so on. You've spent your life training a skill that is entirely useless until becoming invaluable once mastered - and you just mastered it. | Everything changed that Friday morning as I came.
I always jerk off Friday mornings. I jerk off every morning. In fact, I jerk off twice every morning, on lunch break, and at least 4 times before I fall asleep at the end of the night. I jerk off so much it isn't even fun anymore. I spend so much money on hand lotion and tissues that I could practically write it off as a medical expense. I havent gone on a date in over 15 years because I can't waste the precious time fucking that I could spend leveling up my jerk.
It's been a hard road, and one I've had to keep secret from everyone I care about - of all the skill trees mine is the least revered. But that Friday morning, my journey came to an end. As the orgasm subsided, my junk began to glow with a golden aura and the triumphant horns of the level-up music rang out for me. I was no longer a mere jerkoff, I was finally... the Master Bater. | I skip stones. It's my passtime. Whenever I feel down, I head to the lake and find the flat, smooth rocks that hop on the water's surface. I do it for fun. I do it to show off. It's just my kind of thing.
Then one day, I was sitting at my desk, trying to train my graphing skill. "Shit!" I shout. I haven't leveled up for a week now. I toss all of my books into the drawer and go for a run to the pond. Along the way, I try to vault over a chest-high wall. I catch my foot, remembering how I was useless at parkour too. I eat dirt thank goodness, and continue to limp to the pond. I limp to the water's edge, and stare in.
I looked to the bottom and felt a stone. Smooth, oval, and small. I cradle it in my palm to the surface. I look at it. The gray and grayer tones matched my exact mood. I then reel back, and begin to pitch the rock over the water.
Then I feel a feeling I had never quite felt before, but I knew it was amazing. I release my grip, and watch my projectile bounce off the still waters, making ripples in it's wake.
It bounced for what seemed like forever. But it was just 30 seconds. I run to the other side, my ankle in pain from the trip I had a few minutes ago. I see the stone, on the muddy side of the lake. I go over and pick it up. I throw it again, and it reaches the other side in a blur. I finally had mastered a skill. But what for? I was happy, yet disappointed.
I then see a stone coming to me. It was large. As soon as it skidded in the bank, I picked it up. It had a number scratched into it. "241543903" I turn it over, it says, "Call me." On the other side of the water stood a girl. She looked about my age. I had seen her skipping stones as well, but I guess I hadn't really paid much attention to her. But I called her anyways.
--------------------------------
"And that's how I met your grandmother," I announce to my grandchildren. I kiss my wife on the cheek, and hold her hand. She squeezes mine with the last of her strength. "I.. I.. please be okay!" My voice breaks, tears welling up.
She whispers softly to me, "I love you, hone....." I fall to my knees and begin to weep. I wail over the noise and chaos of the nurses running in, the HR machine emitting the monotone noise that signaled my love's death. Tears flow free from my eyes. I never was any good at math, but the 68 years we spent together were at the very least, our greatest. | 2015-10-06T00:39:35 | 2015-10-05T23:37:22 | 65 | 23 |
[WP] You use a mirror to summon your evil twin. What comes out... is your good twin.
This ought to be fun. | "So you're saying that you do all your work on time?" I ask again, still half in shock. "And that you've never taken a sick day for no good reason?"
The other me nods his head. He's wearing a three piece suit, tailored, sitting with his legs crossed as though he doesn't have a care in the world. "Speaking of work, I'd appreciate it if you can end the summoning now. I've quite a difficult case due for next week."
I absently toy with the safety on my gun, scraping at the switch, careful not to push it from its current position. It's a horrible habit. Come to think of it, it's one of my many horrible habits. I procrastinate. I slack off. I lie. Sometimes I even summon myself from an alternate universe after an experiment goes horribly wrong, with the intent to murder my own corrupted copy and restore stability.
The portal is a jagged blur in my peripheral vision, pulsing faintly. It started out as a small speck. By now, it's nearly twice my size, and it's still steadily growing. It's calling. For what - or rather, for who - we still aren't sure.
Our researchers had theorized that I, as the test subject, was the source of corruption. By summoning the me of the alternate reality and exterminating myself, they believed that the dimensional rift could be sealed once more, reversing the accidental havoc we'd wreaked with our attempt at cross-dimensional travel. Operation 'Remove - Facsimile, Corrupted', often referred to as simply Re-FleCted.
"Are we done?" the other me asks, inspecting his finger nails. He's supposed to be my evil twin, for all intents and purposes, and yet, next to him…
Next to him, I feel as though I'm the evil one.
I let out a soft, defeated sigh. Fuck. I really hope this doesn't mean what I think it does. "I think that about settles it," I tell him. "Just give me a moment, and I'll send you back."
"Good," other me says simply.
Just as the machine begins to whirr, the lights flickering ever so slightly, I dart a quick glance at the mirror. It's still startling, seeing no reflection where my mind tells me there should be one. But even more startling still is the expression sliding over my double's face, contorting into a crazed, malevolent grin.
"You nearly got me, you lying bastard," I mutter, before whipping around, firing two shots through his abdomen and kicking him square in the chest. My doppelganger's chair flies backwards - right into the maw of the gaping portal. The last thing I see before the rift slams shut is my own face looking back at me, twin pools of darkness where my eyes should be, the remnants of that maniacal smile still stretching my mouth. | I expected her to look... different.
I mean, she looks like me, of course. It's the same face I see in the mirror every day. But even though the face is right, the expression is off. Sure, I expected her to be smiling, but I thought it would look more like me when when I summoned her. I thought she'd look at least a little bit sinister.
Instead, she's standing there blinking at her surroundings with a look of puzzled amusement. When she stares at me, her gaze makes me uncomfortable, but not in the way I was worried it might. I don't feel small and insignificant when pinned by her forceful glare. Indeed, she doesn't seem forceful at all. Nor is she glaring.
She looks at me with unapologetic curiosity, her eyes traveling up and down, taking me all in. I can tell she's figuring it out, who I am, how I brought her here. On the bright side, she doesn't seem upset or contemptuous. However, she doesn't seem grateful either. I can't tell *what* she's feeling, and that's pretty damn unsettling.
"Why did you bring me here?"
Her voice glides through the air like a dandelion seed on the wind, soft, unassuming. I swallow, more put off by the way she spoke than I would be if she'd shrieked or thrust out her hand to catch my neck while she demanded an explanation.
"I... I thought..." God, I'm shaking. I don't think I've ever been this nervous before. Nothing is working the way it was supposed to. Why can't she just start in with the evil plan, already? "You and I could make a strong team."
"Really?" She tilts her head, fixing me with a much more evaluating look than before. "What, exactly, did you think we could do together?"
I look down, losing the nerve to meet her gaze any longer. "You know, like, take over the world." I'm practically mumbling at the end. It sounds pretty stupid now, for some reason.
"And you thought I would be willing to go along with that plan."
I see her fingers out of the corner of my eye. They grasp the handle to the hand mirror I held just a few moments before. She picks it up, and I watch, noting the opaque blackness where once there was reflective glass.
"I guess it makes sense," she says, staring at the object in her hands. "I was offered something like this, once. I'll admit I was tempted by the possibilities it posed. But as hard as I tried, I couldn't think of a single use for it that wouldn't cause at least as much harm as good. And I figured, the only person who would really do that kind of thing must be evil. So I refused it."
"But... you're..." I sputter, refusing to accept what she's telling me. Angrily, I snatch the used mirror out of her hand. "You don't get to call me that!"
She shakes her head. "I think it's a fair judgment, given your sights on world domination. I'm tempted to do something to put a stop to that, actually, but..." I see pity in her eyes. I hate it. "If you're as evil as it gets, I think the world is probably safe from your machinations."
And then she's gone. One moment, she's standing there, holding the stupid hand mirror that I should never have used, and the next, I hear the clatter of the mirror hitting the floor. When I pick it up, it's back to it's reflective shine. I could try again. I could summon her, make her see things my way, make her understand, maybe even convince her to help me. Or better yet, I could summon a *real* evil twin, the kind that could work with me to make all of our dreams come true, to make the world tremble at our feet.
But I don't. I sit on the floor, cradling the mirror, looking at the hideous visage of my own weeping face. She's right. Of course she is. I don't have what it takes. I thought I just wasn't evil enough, but that's not it. I'm as evil as they come. I'm just weak. Too weak to work my will. Too weak to take over even my hometown, let alone the world.
I look into the mirror, and this time I don't scowl or sneer or imagine a version of me that is capable of great and terrible things. I just look at myself, as I am, until I can't take it anymore and I throw the mirror to my side. It turns out I can't stand being around an evil version of myself after all. | 2022-09-02T19:38:49 | 2016-04-15T15:29:25 | 65 | 22 |
[WP]: You are not sure how it ended up being your job to raise and train the second coming of Christ. You are not even a christian. | In the Bible, Christ the Child was born unto the Virgin Mary. In 2016, he was born unto the virgin Sam. Just Sam, by the way. I was a twenty-four year old Software Engineer, and the last time I had a girlfriend was in middle school. From what I remembered, it lasted about six hours. Seventh grade me was *devastated*.
On March 19th, I had a dream, or, more accurately, a vision. The angel Gabriel appeared and told me that it was the time for the second coming and that I had been chosen to raise the Messiah. He told me not to fear, and then I woke up. Baby Jesus lay in my bed beside me, and God was he ugly.
I called in sick.
Jesus Christ has ended up being the most well-behaved baby I'd ever seen. He would have had to have been, or I would have gone insane. Google was my parental counselor for about a week until I realized I couldn't keep this up, and I was forced to call my sister, Sarah, for backup. If I didn't get back to work, good baby Jesus would run out of diapers to shit in. I still remember the sound she made when I said I needed her help to raise a motherless baby. Since then, we've just been trying to make sure he was alive and comfortable. What more could we do? He felt like my obligation, in the same way you would feel like it was your obligation to help a old man who fell when no one else was around. Somehow, I had grown to love him. My sister did too — I could see it in her eyes when the baby would make a sound, and we would look at him and then look at each other in the way that parents only could.
The baby was still a secret.
Things got more complicated. Even though he was usually quiet, baby Jesus was still a baby, and babies cried. My apartment neighbors knew I was single, and they'd come by a couple of times to check on the noise. They worked, too, and luckily enough I had always been home to answer the door for them; somehow I've been able to deflect their attention, but I fear for the time they come by, the baby is crying, and only my sister is home. How do you explain that away? She was running out of excuses to explain her missing time, too. Sooner or later this would come to... what? If one day there's a knock at the door, and it's Child Protection Services, what would I do?
"Hello, Mrs. CPS official. My name is Sam, and I'm taking care of a baby I had myself. His name is Jesus Christ, and he's come from Heaven! My sister is helping out, too!"
God, please tell me that you did not want your only begotten son to come into the world to be seen as the illegitimate incest child of a lonely, insane programmer.
What the hell was the plan? I finally felt some anger towards the child after a month of raising him. I wondered what would happen if I let him die — would it even be possible? What would happen if Jesus were the next baby to end up in a garbage bag in the dumpster? The thought sickened me immediately, and I felt shame for even thinking it.
For the first time since my religious mother asked me to say grace over dinner, I prayed, and just like that time, when I awkwardly asked for God to bless our food and bless our hearts and guide our evenings, nothing came of it. | There is a very short list of things in the world that require direct divine intervention. As far as I knew there were three that humans needed to care about.
1. Miracles: The direct influence of God causing an impossible event to take place. This is what happens when 'Free will' takes us to far off of the path of God. It's also the most common type of intervention.
2. Guidance: This is when someone is shown the correct path that they need to take. Most of the time people are lying about this one. I've only gotten the little guy to admit that Joan of Arc had it going for her, which is nice.
3. Assignment: This is what happens when someone is given a job, but not really told how to do it. An example of this would be Joseph 'Say it's yours' of the Bible. He surprisingly didn't have a last name written in there. I checked. There has been a lot of the time spent with King James over the past couple of weeks.
An assignment was what I got. When a literal stork dropped a small child (It was a big stork) on my doorstep and told me that I needed to raise him to be a messiah. The boy was Jesus, pronounced in the English way. Yes, it was literal Jesus. You know the person who we stabbed on a cross? He was kinda annoyed at me for about three days for that one. Forgiving kid.
He was the little shit arguing with me in the middle of a Walmart.
"I'm not getting you that," I said as I took the game out of his hand. I wasn't about to let him play Call of Duty. I had the X-box back home but it was gathering dust and I didn't think systematic slaughter was what daddy expected when he sent me a talking bird.
"Oh come on."
"Your Dad told me that you're not going to do anything li-"
"My Dad didn't say anything."
"How do you know that?" I asked.
"I can text him," he said. He was wearing sandals in the middle of the winter, which was really weird but he insisted on it.
"You'd be bad at it anyway," I said, "it's an acquired skill."
"I have time."
"Aren't you supposed to get to Jesusing?"
"I'm not a verb."
"You're whatever I tell you you are young man," I said. He grabbed the game again. I put it back. Could I grab Christ by the ear?
"You're not my Dad."
"Neither was Joseph and you listened to him."
"Yeah not really," Jesus said, "did you read the stuff I did as a kid last time? I was a terror?"
"You were?" I asked, "they kinda just gloss over the whole adolescent age." I grabbed the game away from him again. It wasn't that hard, he wasn't a day over 7. Getting reincarnated made you pretty articulate.
"For good reason," he said, "but seriously I did worse things than playing a rated M game. I gotta seem normal, don't I?"
"They'll make you shoot up a school or something," I said, "which really isn't on the agenda. I started walking and he kept looking at the game. I turned around and tapped my foot. He didn't move. "Jesus Christ get over here."
"Sure," he said "you don't need to use my full name," he said.
"You don't listen to the short form J," I pointed out. He shrugged. "Either way shouldn't I be getting you to run for president or something?"
"I don't think so, I wasn't technically born here."
"You could whip one up couldn't you?"
"I mean yeah but," he looked up to me, "I've been over the limited miracles thing haven't I?"
"Yeah, and I've been over the 'I didn't think you were real before this' thing right?"
"Also yes, and it's not very nice of you."
"I thought you forgave me," I said in response to his tone.
"I have I have, I'm just only human you know. It's kinda the point."
I stopped him in the middle of the isle. "Look man, I don't even know what I'm supposed to be doing. I got you speaking like a normal kid but, well, ever since we spent that week on Urban Dictionary I feel like we've been spinning our wheels."
"I know what Bye Felicia means now."
I nodded. The only time God had spoken to me directly since dropping the kid off was to tell me that I couldn't let him say 'The Fucking Hype Train Has No Brakes' about Game of Thrones. I was surprised he was allowed to watch that show. I would have kept him away but he didn't sleep so I needed to spend time with him.
"I told you though Jeff, he told me that you'd figure it out."
I crouched down and looked at Jesus in his baby blues. He had different looks depending on the day, but we'd just seen Captain America and he had taken up the Steve Roger's look. "Do you think that getting it right involves letting you play Call of Duty?"
"Maybe," Jesus said without bothering to consult his phone. He just really wanted to play.
"Look just... don't tell your Dad what the other kids on there say to you. Kay?"
"Why?"
"Urban dictionary."
"Got it." | 2016-05-17T17:06:04 | 2016-05-17T15:24:20 | 56 | 34 |
[wp] When someone dies, they go to a platform where you can choose to move in to the afterlife, not knowing whether you will go to heaven or hell. You meet someone who has stood there for millenia, trying to decide if they should go. | People almost always go quickly. Whether sure of where they're going or determined to get it over with, they hurry onto the train. Occasionally, someone will linger, waiting for something or someone. They scan the platform, searching. Then, someone, a love, a child, a friend, a parent, a fellow soldier, someone comes. And they leave, arm-in-arm, or side-by-side, they step onto the train.
Sometimes no one comes. These people wait, and wait, and wait. They watch as lovers meet lovers, friends meet friends, parents meet children, and slowly they realise that no one is coming to meet them. Maybe it takes them a generation. Or two. Sometimes even three. But very few people stick around after three. After all living memory is gone, they resign themselves to the fact that they have been forgotten. And they get on the train, alone.
But she had been there for much longer. Time wasn't strictly linear in the station. As people poured on and off and intermingled, time blurred, and eternities passed in minutes, while minutes took eternities. A young boy might wait a few minutes for his parents, while next to him, a woman waited an eternity for her husband, and a man waited years for his childhood friend, and they would all board the same train.
But still, she waited. Every few minutes, or what seemed like a few minutes, she would pull out a silver cross. This in itself wasn't unusual. People prayed on the platform all the time. But she would hold the cross, just hold it, in silence. She never said a word. Then put it away, only to repeat it in a few minutes.
Some time passed, an hour, or maybe a century. Someone approached her, a young man. He asked her something in German, and she nodded. He embraced her, and they began to speak. They talked for a long time, or maybe a few minutes.
'Are you coming on this train?' He asked. 'I would be honoured to go with you'.
'No, thank you. You go.' Her eyes filled with tears.
'Waiting for someone?'
'Forgiveness.' She said quietly.
'Forgiveness? You? What could you have possibly done that you want to be forgiven for? You saved me. You saved so many of us. What more could He ask of you?
'I didn't save them all.' She shook her head. 'I will wait for every one of those I didn't save.' | The train station was beautiful. The stone walls and vaulted roof were picturesque. At one end was a giant stained glass window, it let in the bright afternoon light, dappling the tracks and platforms with its bright colours. The walls were also dotted with large windows, letting in even more light, but I couldn't see the view outside. In fact, I couldn't even remember how I got here. Holiday time after too stressful a week, I decided. I must have zoned out on the way here. Still, I couldn't find my luggage anywhere.
I look around the station again. There's a large mix of people, children, adults, even a couple pets. I watch as a group of kids giggle their way after a border collie. Nearby two old ladies on a bench are laughing at some inside joke as their hands methodically twist and pull yarn around a pair of needles. There's no sign of a train, and glancing at the walls I see there's no clocks either. I still didn't have any luggage.
Frowning, I stick my hand in my pocket. Where am I even going? I grab the slip of paper that must be my ticket and pull it out.
It's your standard issue ticket. One way trip. But there's no destination, or even a time of departure. I stuff it back to where it came from. Now when I glance around the platform I'm searching for an employee of some sort. It's so obvious when I find him, I can't believe I didn't see him before. With a dark navy sweater, a tie, bright neon orange vest and a ridiculous cap, he's the very image of "employee".
" 'Scuse me, sir!" I call out, walking up to him. He turns, and so do a few other people. "I'm sorry to bother you but-"
"No no, that's quite all right. What can I do you for?" The grannies turn back to their wicked jokes as the man smiles at me. I pause. What did I need help with? Luggage? A destination?
"I think I'm a tad lost. Or at least, my luggage is."
"Ah." With one word his voice is full of understanding. His eyes crinkle. Sympathetically? "I see. You must have just arrived. Don't worry about your luggage, it's already taken care of. Can I see your ticket?"
I obediently pass it over. Taken care of? Was this some sort of all expenses paid trip, including clothes?
"Everything looks to be in order. The train should be here shortly, if I'm any judge." The man passes me my ticket and proceeds to pull back his sleeve and eye the watch he's got strapped on.
"Where's it going?" I ask.
"I'm sorry?" His eyes snap back to mine. "Oh, where's the train going?"
He chuckles to himself. "Would you even believe me?"
"The afterlife, my dear fellow." My eyes pop open as he continues to chuckle at my expression.
"The after...life?" I babble. A shrill whistle punctuates my question. Already a train is pulling in, just like he said. Around me everyone is standing and starting to file into an orderly procession. "I don't understand."
"No one does." The man says cheerfully. Steering me to the slowing train. "The only way to find out is to board the train."
"But!" I protest.
"No buts! Heaven or hell, your ticket will decide where you get off." He claps my shoulder as the door in front of us opens.
I stumble into the car as the line behind me surges forward. Dazed, I find a seat near the window. Looking out I finger the paper in my pocket. Heaven or hell? Really? Although, it was as good an explanation as any.
As the people behind me board I look out the window to watch the station employee. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ticket. Tongue between his teeth he looks from the ticket, to the train and back to the ticket. Shaking his head he turns away, helping the last few stragglers get on. As the doors shut and the train starts inching off, he's the only one left on the platform. He waves cheerfully as the train pulls out.
| 2016-08-14T10:47:35 | 2016-08-14T08:04:54 | 48 | 22 |
[WP] Normally you would have got your superpower at age ten. Yours awakens at age 20 as the most powerful ability ever recorded. | "Next" the detector said.
He knew everyone's power and power level at first sight.
"Super punch, 43" he said.
"Next" he said.
And he had a full time job. When someone turned 10, there power awakened, but they didn't always know what it was right away. His job was to tell them exactly what there power level was and how powerful it is out of 100.
"Can turn invisible for short periods of time, 32" he said.
The young girl in front on me walked away disappointed and then disappeared.
"Next" he said.
I walked up nervously.
"No power, 0" he said straight faced.
"What no, impossible" I shout.
*Beep, beep*
My alarm awoke me.
That was ten years ago.
I got up and ready, and then walk into the kitchen.
"Happy birthday Tom" my friend Fred said. He gestured towards a cake and lighted the 20 candles with his power. He had pyromancy, but with a low number. We had become good friends.
"Thanks" I reply. I take a deep breath and blow out the candles.
The flames flickered slightly then stopped in place. Everything around me was frozen in time.
Then, the flames went out and everything resumed.
I was confused.
"You OK dude?" Asked Fred.
"Yeah I'm cool." I replied.
I felt someone grab my arm and then I was suddenly somewhere else. A meeting room full of superheroes I recognised. The league.
I look to my right. Tally the teleporter had let go of my arm and taken a seat.
"I guess introductions are in order, I'm Michael the mind reader, I'm the team leader, I always know what each member of my team is doing and I coordinate the team accordingly. 91." Explained Michael.
"Tally the teleporter, can teleport myself and anything I'm touching large distances instantaneously, 93." Explained Tally.
"I'm Sam, super strength, 96" explained Sam.
"Imogen, I can be invisible and almost undetectable as long as I want, whenever I want, 90" explained Imogen.
"Dan the detector, I don't think it's fair for me to judge my own power level" explained Dan.
"Together we're the league, our motto, protect the people" stated Michael.
"Right, I knew most of that, but Dan told me I had no power, I'm a 0, why am I here?" I ask.
"There's something everyone here has in common, we all awakened at 20 instead of 10" Micheal explained.
"I have a power? After all this time? What is it Dan?" I ask excited.
"Do you swear to use your power only for good, to be responsible and above all protect the people?" Asks Micheal.
"Yes" I say. He knew I meant it.
"Then you can join the league if you wish" Micheal stated.
"Me? But you don't even know what I can do, oh wait you can read Dan's mind, I see" I say.
"Indeed. In fact he detected your power from far away, it's the highest ever recorded" said Micheal.
"I'm a freaking 97! Wow! Geez! Then I'd be honoured to join the league" I said excited.
"Medusa was 97" stated Dan quietly.
The greatest villain of all time, could turn anyone she could see into stone. Imogen defeated her. Your power level is just a guide, and some powers are just naturally good against other powers.
"98? What can I do?" I ask, kind of scared.
Dan took a deep breath.
"You can stop time." He said.
"What's the limit? What can I do in stopped time?" I ask.
"You can do whatever you could do in normal time" he stated.
"How long can I stop time for?" I ask.
Dan laughed.
"I'm sorry, how long? In stopped time? The question doesn't even make sense." Said Dan.
"So I'm the time stopper, 98?" I asked.
"100" replied Dan. | "We could go back to my place. I can do things for you no one else has."
Amy's hand ran down Matt's side as she spoke. Matt laughed to himself. A month ago someone like her wouldn't even consider his existence.
"I don't doubt you could, but I think I'm going to head home alone tonight. Enjoy the rest of the party."
Amy tried and failed to hide the look of shock on her face. Even without her powers of persuasion she was easily an 11/10. With them, she had never been turned down by a man in her life.
Matt thanked the host, put his hands in his pocket, and walked out the door. He could have covered the 4 miles to his new house in no time at all, but he still enjoyed being able to walk down the street without fearing for his life. There was something still bothering him though.
"Hasn't this gone on long enough?" Matt asked. "And no, this isn't a bluff. The two of you have been following me for 3 weeks now."
Two figures appeared from nowhere. Both were over 6 feet tall and looked like they could have been professional athletes in the pre-power days. Matt knew the Government could enhance those with non physical powers to a certain extent. These two probably had Tier 3 or 4 physical abilities on top of their invisibility. Not that this mattered to him of course, his powers were beyond any tier or class or whatever other ranking convention people used.
After almost a minute of sizing each other up, the man on the right finally spoke.
"First time you've gone home alone since your new found fame."
Matt knew this was some sort of test, but figured he'd play along.
"It gets boring surprisingly fast."
"I'm not sure I've ever heard a 20 year old male say that sex gets boring after 3 weeks."
"Do you remember the first girl?"
"Jasmine I believe? Victoria Secret's model of the year?"
"That's her. She said it was the best she's ever had." Matt laughed, easing some of the tension in the air, "I was a virgin. I had no idea what I was doing and it was probably the worst she's ever had."
The man chuckled as well. "Why do you think she said it?"
"Maybe she was afraid of me. Or maybe she was just lying to herself so she'd feel better when she bragged to her friends. Doesn't matter really."
"But you kept doing it."
"Yeah, and now I'm bored with it. Hollywood seems so great from the outside, but it's a giant circle jerk of good looking people acting important."
The man tensed up a bit, this was the first time he'd seen Matt show any bitterness towards the world since he gained his power.
"So what do you plan on doing now?"
"Season 7 of Fear the Walking Supers just came out. I think I'll go watch it and hope it gets good again."
The man was about to say something, but Matt cut him off. "It's a good trick by the way."
"What is?"
"You act like both of you have the power of invisibility, when really you're turning you and your Omega class telepath friend both invisible."
"Sorry for..."
"No you're not. It's your job. Whatever." Matt turned towards the telepath, "So what's the verdict? Am I a threat?"
The second man's blank expression didn't change as he spoke for the first time. "40. That's my estimate for how many Omega classes it would take to bring you down. Dozens would likely die. Considering no country in the world has more than 20, yes, you are a threat."
Matt shook his head, and with ease launched himself back to his house.
The first man looked at the second. "What else?"
"I don't think he likes his new life, this could be very dangerous."
"Do we kick off The Initiative?"
"Let's give it a few days, if he does snap it won't be tomorrow."
___________________________
The facility was in a frenzy. Matt had just shown up for the first time in weeks without any warning.
Two Alpha class guards, among the strongest in the world, could barely keep from shaking as Matt approached.
"Wh-what can we do for you sir?" One of the guards managed to get out.
"I'm tired of this, it has to end."
___________________________
The cameras rolled as Matt spoke. "I don't like this power. Everywhere I go people are either afraid of me, or want to use me. Someday I think I'll snap... and I don't want to do that. This is the only way."
Matt sat in the chair and allowed himself to be strapped in. The doctor was shaking as he prepared the syringe. He knew that if Matt had seconds thoughts his life was forfeit.
The Initiative had been launched and nearly 2/3s of the world's Omega classes waited in the distance. If Matt changed his mind, most of the city would likely be destroyed in the forthcoming battle.
They strapped him in and Matt didn't have second thoughts.
The doctor filled the syringe and Matt didn't have second thoughts.
The doctor used his power to slightly cut Matt. Still no second thoughts.
Matt closed his eyes and let the poison in. Still no second thoughts.
___________________________
Christine jumped into Jason's arms and gave him a kiss.
"Welcome home! You won't believe what Samantha did at work today." Christine let go of him and launched into the story of her hopelessly inept co-worker.
Jason smiled as he fiddled with the ring in his pocket. This was what he'd always wanted. To be normal.
| 2016-10-08T10:46:59 | 2016-10-08T10:31:44 | 65 | 17 |
[WP] You are the child of an internet sensation. In a joke will, he said that if he died, the internet would raise his child. It happened, and you were left an orphan. Now, you are the internet's child, and all your life has been directed by endless online polls and debates. | What will Greg do today?
43% Drink a gallon of pond water
42% Spend the entire day masturbating to Susan Boyle
13% Get that infection checked out
2% Emancipate from internet
And thus for the fourth week in a row, 4Chan has decided that the Gregory Roflcopter will drink an entire gallon of pond water! We've had 6 different doctors tell us that this is incredibly dangerous, as improperly sanitized standing water contains many dangerous bacteria and parasites, and could very quickly lead to death. However unfortunately it is 4Chan's month for care of the 15 year old girl from Wisconsin. If you're thinking her name is a typo, think again! Her name was legally changed by the comedy website Something Awful, and hasn't been changed since. It was also decided by the social networking/blogging site Tumblr that Gregory hates men and will be a Golden Lesbian. Next week Greg's new guardian will be AnastasiaDate.com, which is expected to have her shipped to Russia and never been seen again. And now for the weather!" | *The Will of Picklestasteg00d*
*I, Picklestasteg00d, hereby make this my unofficial official will. Half of my Ferrari account goes to my brother, Zifferzap, and the other half goes to my wife, Claire. My vast wealth, knawledge, and this username will be given to my son, Pickles. Yes, I named him after my username, now shut up.*
*However, Pickles will only be rewarded the money if he is past the age 18. If I die before this, the money will be frozen in a bank account for later. If both Claire and I die, I give the right to my son to the internet. He will grow up on the wisdom of the internet, a place where kids pretending to be adults can make my child's decisions.*
That was my dad's joke will. He made it for the sole purpose of laughs on the internet, and never wrote a real one. Three years ago today, when I was 14, he and Claire died in an unfortunate car accident on the I-15 highway. He was trying out a Ferrari, but the pedal got stuck, and they careened off the road. The car did 69 flips before stopping at exactly 4:20 PM. I'm told it was, and I quote, "dank af".
Well, this mock will was the only thing the courts had. They gave half of his money to my uncle, and the other half is in a frozen bank account for me. Thankfully, the family servant, Alfredo Nickleworth, is still around to help me out.
Today, I have my own website and subreddit, /r/Picklestasteg00d. The people of the internet help me (read: fuck me over) with my decisions, and raise me. Yesterday, I was told to build a trebuchet and launch a 90 kilogram stone projectile over 300 meters as a test of ingenuity. Well, now there's a 90kg stone and a hole in some poor sap's house.
You could call my internet family dysfunctional. You'd be right. I've sent in copypastas as essays to my school. I've put cooked and sauced spaghetti in my pocket just so I could spill it when talking to women. Though these past few years have been tough, it's been the best year of my life. Thank you, my internet family.
Oh, right, today is my eighteenth birthday. Time to unfreeze my bank account and become "independent". We stop at the bank, a place almost alien to me. *I open the door, get on the floor, everybody walk the dinosaur.*
*****
A great prompt, but I couldn't resist adding a 4chan-esque ending. As always, you can find more of my work at /r/Picklestasteg00d.
Edit: grammar | 2016-10-19T18:03:56 | 2016-10-19T17:41:14 | 96 | 21 |
[WP] We are all born with a tattoo on our wrist, it reads the first sentence spoken to you by your soulmate. Your sentence: "Hey!" | Of all the thing's that could be plastered on his forearm, it had to be this stupid word. Not a sentence, not even a recognisable phrase. Just this one overly generic word everyone used to greet each other. And just when Lars was starting to think it couldn't get any harder, Iris showed up in his life.
The day they met was when they got put in the same group for a project. Lars had opened the conversation with his standard opener, which was a shy "Whaddup buttercup?", to which she replied "Nothing much, chocolate smudge". Lars remembered it was the first time someone made him laugh at the first encounter, even though it made him bitter just thinking about it now. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. Why did he have to fall in love with this girl? Her forearm didn't have his stupid greeting on it. It was a lost cause from the start, so why couldn't he move past this? She had a nice mark though, it said "I like you." Pretty recognisable. But not what he said.
He kept staring at the ceiling, lying down on his bed. Angry tears started to fill his eyes. He hadn't told Iris he loved her, because it would make things awkward, but being around her was painful. They were best friends for two years now, and they hung out a lot. Every day they saw each other in lectures, and on top of that came D&D Mondays with the group. "It's just not fair" Lars thought to himself. Iris had the same humour, a lot of common interests and both shared a massive passion for videogames. She didn't have her own console, so she would come over often and play Bloodborne whenever time allowed it. Why was someone this perfect and similar not his soulmate? He tried to get the image of Iris out of his head, her long curly blonde hair and large brown eyes, her smile. He shook his head violently, but to no avail. He couldn't get rid of it.
He glanced at his phone. 3:30 AM. He let out a sigh, tonight was not the night he was going to sleep anyway. He booted his PC. "Might as well let out my frustration on digital cannon fodder." he thought.
The next day, he was sitting with the usual group of friends, doing some homework for his Narrative Design class, but his mind wasn't really there. Iris sat right next to him, as her cheerful usual self, sketching away in her sketchbook. He looked over and saw she was working on his D&D character for the group picture she was making. He got pulled out of his absent mindedness by his vibrating phone. A text from mom. "Found this old video of you, you were so cute!"
"Open it!" Lars looked up and realised Iris had been reading over his shoulder. He unlocked his phone and loaded the video, as Iris was watching over his shoulder.
It was a video from when he was in kindergarten it seemed like. He couldn't have been older than four years old then. It was his parents filming his first day there. A little Lars was sitting alone in the corner of the room. A little girl approached him, with long blonde curls and large brown eyes, and sat down in front of him. She seemed familiar for some reason.
Then his heart skipped several beats.
"Hey!"
The little boy looked up and shyly replied:
"I like you."
| At this point in my life, I just accepted to ignore what my wrist told me. "Hey!" was such a generic greeting, anyone could be my soulmate. I just accepted that my soulmate would find me, not the other way around. Most people have something a little more complex craved in their bodies. Most people have generic first greetings, but they're usually a more specific phrase. "Sorry, you first.", "Would you mind taking that for me?", "Mondays are the worst, huh.". Mine was just "Hey!". At an age of 25, I decided I shouldn't go crazy every time someone greets me. The time will come eventually.
But now that I think of it, maybe fate doesn't really drive my life. I guess I can make my own course. "What's the worst that could happen?" I say to myself. But too bad, those who end up with someone who doesn't match their phrases are pretty much always seen as weirdos. It was still better than nothing.
It was a Sunday afternoon. I just had coffee after oversleeping, then decided to go to the public library so I could relax a bit and steal the open Wi-fi in there. Then this lady, the most gorgeous person I've ever seen, passes by me carrying dozens of books.
"Excuse me! Could you help me with these right quick?"
I promptly got up and helped her get those on the table. Her square glasses made her look smart along with the many books she got, but her red, long hair made her look like a living, breathing flame.
"There, need anything else?", I said.
Her smile turned into a mild disappointment face which she tried to hide, but I just couldn't help but notice.
"Is something wrong? Did I say something stupid?"
It quickly turned into a smile again, but more of a relaxing one.
"I'm sorry, it was just... You seemed nice, so I thought... Nevermind."
I knew what she was talking about. Given my own experience with my wrist phrase, that meant she liked me, even if just a bit, but I didn't say the right words. But screw it, I've waited for too long for the right "Hey!"
"Don't feel bad, when you find someone that matches your wrist, I'm sure it'll feel different. Or well, at least I think so."
Embarrassed, she showed me her tattoo. It only said "Hey there!". I just couldn't contain my laughter, which made her quickly retrieve her arm and everyone in the library stare at us with a look of annoyance.
"Urgh, you're just like the others." she told me, right as she turned around.
"No wait!", I said, while still laughing. "You don't understand."
"I don't like being made fun of because of this stup-" I immediately interrupted her while I, proudly, showcased my own sayings. She started laughing, and everyone around started to complain about the noise.
"You wanna have a drink?", she asked, with a revived smile that shined through her face.
"B... but.. what about your books?", I attempted to say in my embarrassingly obvious stuttering.
"I'm sure someone will find these more interesting than I do." as she grabbed my hand to take me outside.
The following week was a blast. We had dinner together, we watched a movie in my apartment (which was a mess, and I'm surprised she didn't mind it), or we'd just chat online. I never felt this close to someone. I knew she wasn't the one, but she was more than good enough. She just felt so perfect for me, I wouldn't let fate ruin this again. I said to myself: "Enough is enough!" as I called her. I set up a date for us at the park. It felt rather cliche, but I couldn't think of anything better. As we walked along, I gave it a shot. A shot in the dark.
"Look, I know we don't have the right words, but you're so amazing, I just wish you said 'Hey!' to me at first, but... regardless of that..."
I hadn't even finished my sentence when I suddenly felt her arms embracing me, her warm body against my chest, and the sweetness of her mouth with mine. I never felt better in my life. From there on, things only got better. I got a promotion, which led me to get a bigger apartment, so we moved together. The years passed by, and we ended up marrying (no one from our families came, since they knew we weren't "made for each other"). It wasn't long until she got pregnant too. Prejudice was all around us, but we were too happy to mind. 9 months later, we were rushing through the hospital.
"Keep breathing, keep breathing, in and out.". Our little girl was coming to the world. When she was born, we just sat there, as we looked at her. We hugged each other, and as she started mumbling for the first time, I said "Hey there!", quickly followed by a "Hey!" from her mother. We looked at each other and laughed as we realized what just came out of our mouths. The first words we heard in the happiest moment of our lives. | 2017-01-09T07:53:02 | 2017-01-09T07:38:24 | 152 | 32 |
[WP] It is the 24 th of july, your birthday, and also the day that humanity is going to reach 10 billion inhabitants. You are watching the number grow, live on a site. Just as it's about to hit 10 billion, at 9,999,999,999... It Hits 2. You are still alive. | The silence hit like a wave.
I saw the number plummet to a mere pair and thought it to be some kind of joke for half a second, but then the silence of Times Square settled in.
Nobody left to make any noise.
I jogged down my stairs, still in disbelief. I ran out into the empty space and let it settle in. The only logical thing to do was scream. So I screamed for hours until I couldn't scream anymore.
I collapsed on my back and watched the sky as the sun set, unable to see the sky through the remains of a civilization that reaped the world's resources and left before it could pay its debt. I felt my eyelids get heavier when they popped back open, perking up at a noise in the distance.
I recalled days from childhood suburbia when I heard that sound a thousand times over. I couldn't recall what it was for hours and hours until suddenly it registered with me all at once.
A gunshot.
"Goddammit" I uttered. | My eyes were fixated on the screen. My hands were preoccupied with a tub of ice cream in my lap and a metal spoon in the tub.
I finally got the perfect recipe for a birthday this year. Cheering to a milestone in humanity and having the freedom to do whatever I want is the dream. Nothing beat that.
The number onscreen was 9,999,999,997. That was the current human population. Gone are the days of lavish vastness and excess. These days, we are all about optimised efficiency.
The last number ticked to an 8 and I celebrated with another mouthful of vanilla goodness. Today was my day, I feel like I could conquer the world.
And it ticked to a 9. I was no longer wiping the streaming sweetness off my chin. I would not miss this for the world. It's my 30th, my miracle after all.
I almost forgot to blink until my eyes were about to tear. And when I did, I could not immediately comprehend what it meant.
The screen said 2. Not 9,999,999,992. Just 2.
What a downer, a glitch in the world population website that was supported by the governments and kings of the world.
I went on my go-to forum to rant, expecting it to have exploded in my extended reaction time. When I understood that was not the case, I quickly made a meme that said, "10 billion of us and we can't count" before changing it to, "I can count higher than 2, but yes that's how many of us there are."
And I posted, patted myself on the back with other mouthful of ice-cream. And refresh. Mouthful of goodness. Refresh.
The post was served and getting cold untouched. And not just that, there weren't any new posts.
Was there something I was missing?
The website still showed 2. It didn't get taken down.
Someone knocked on the door of my apartment. *Who even did that these days?*
But I got up with a groan, and opened the door to a ravishing beauty.
"Really? A fat man? I thought this was going to be an Adam and Eve kind of situation. It's just us two left in the world now, you know?" She rolled her eyes.
It took me an extended moment to retrieve my jaw. But when I did, I grinned. "I can repopulate the world with you all night long, babe."
She gave me a murderous glare and I laughed. It was turning out to be the best birthday in quite a few years.
"Why don't you come in and we figure this thing out?"
---
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*Edits: typo* | 2017-02-28T18:37:24 | 2017-02-28T16:49:13 | 275 | 66 |
[WP] "Name your desire, mortal!" "Oh I don't want anything I was just checking if the summoning portal worked." "That's not how it works, I can't go home until I trade a wish for your soul." "Looks like we're stuck together then." | Fred Merlyn stumbled downstairs, wiping sleep from his eyes.
"THE DEMON AZERGATH DEMANDS OF YOU!" A massive form, glowing red, shaped like Arnold Schwarzenegger with a head of horns and teeth stood before Fred, holding the teapot.
"Please, not so loud in the morning." Fred moaned.
"Azergath is sorry." The demon replied, "Azergath demands to know how many sugars."
"Two." Fred slumped into his chair at the table. With a flick of his wrist he summoned two eggs, bacon, and a slice of toast.
"Azergath demands more pineapples."
Fred sighed, "I bought all the shop had only two days ago."
"Azergath ate them all."
"Seriously? Do you know how much they cost me?"
Azergath set the coffee down and sat opposite, "Then Azergath think Fred should make a wish."
"And lose my soul? No thanks, Fred thinks Azergath should leave."
They froze, staring into the other's eyes. Daring him to blink first. Looking through the soul's window. Today, Fred blinked.
"AZERGATH WINS!"
"Yea, yea, Fred's tired. Damn." Since summoning the demon three months ago, Fred had begun to develop the habit of talking in third person, and hated it.
"I gotta get going." He said, "I'll check the markets on the way home from work, see if there's any there."
"AZERGATH THANKS FRED!"
"This place better be spotless when I get back."
"AZERGATH SWEAR, BY ALL THE UNHOLY..."
Fred waved his hand, "Yea, yea. Just stop yelling."
"Azergath is again sorry." The demon shuffled his hoofs, tearing holes in the carpet, "Azergath would like to know, would Fred let Azergaith visit petting zoo?"
"Um, maybe. On the weekend. At night."
"But animals are asleep." Azergath whined.
"Fine. I'll get a spell, or something, maybe." Fred grabs his robes and briefcase, "Right now, I gotta get to work."
"AZERGATH THANKS YOU!" a hastily-slammed door barley deadens the demon's yells. Fred jumps in his car and wonders which will kill him sooner, Azergath's yelling, or his terrible coffee. | Alyx dusted off the book's cover, the little bits of dust glittering in his wand's light. *Summoning & Dark Arts: Principals and Incantations*. A moment after the book was illuminated, a tiny flame sparked and danced across the letters, shining in the room's relative darkness.
"Ah, perfect."
A few flips through the pages brought him to what he was seeking. *Daemonus Exeso*, with its two full pages of instructions, some explicit and others more vague. He skipped past the instructions, and tore out a detailed diagram.
"Damn, purple paint, eh? Let's hope red does the trick."
Alyx flipped his wand and a brush popped out of thin air, depositing itself into his hand. It was almost perfectly mundane; wooden, yet completely uniform, the bristles evenly spaced and identical.
A swoop of paint started off the diagram, and several followed. It was a haphazard style that only distantly followed the instructions. Alyx chuckled at the thought of his professors seeing this and screaming at him, shouting epithets as they tried in vain to bring some semblance of order to the work.
*No... Art.*
He finished the diagram in magnitudes less time than what it would have taken to create a perfect rendition, and stepped back to admire it. Specks of paint overlapped, the circle was more an oval, and the colours randomly changed from one to another where he had ran out of paint.
"Ergo: Zvi... Damn, how do you even pronounce this? Eh, whatever. Zvilalalala, blah, urphy, aw-yon. *Carve*."
Nothing happened. Alyx frowned. He'd done everything right - well, not right, but wrong in a rather correct fashion - and he'd had high hopes for this project.
"Ah, well," he mumbled to himself. "Can't win 'em all."
"Is that what you wish for, human?"
Alyx's wand snapped up to a ready position, his body twisting around to face *him*. Carphe, demon of the lesser branch, repossessor of souls and granter of wishes. Or so he remembered from his studies. It was hard to keep them all straight.
"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that. What do I wish for?"
Despite having a face that was lit on fire, flames licking at reddish skin, Carphe's expression was rather clear. "I said, do you wish to win everything? That is something I can grant, in return for your eternal soul."
"Oh, sorry, sorry," said Alyx, backing away a step, "I don't want anything. I was just, you know, checking to see if the summoning diagram worked. And it did, which is pretty great."
"This is not how it works," rumbled Carphe. "I cannot return home until I trade a wish for your soul."
Alyx's left hand idly flipped through a new book, hoisted off a desk that had been pushed to the side. The room was still unlit by any conventional means, but even now that he had stopped the incantation on his wand, the flames coiling around Carphe were more than enough to allow him to read. "Carphe, soul-stealer. Says here you like tricking people into taking vaguely worded bargains, then stealing their souls and not giving them anything in return. Because, well, they're dead."
"I do not understand what you are trying to say, human. You have summoned me. You shall not continue on with your-"
"Ah, sorry." Alyx grinned. "I like my tangents, you see? They're very enjoyable for me. No, let me get straight to the point. You're not exactly a great person. Er, demon."
Carphe took a step forward. "I-"
"So I don't think I need to worry about the consequences of doing this."
He gestured with his wand, and a magic no professor of his could have ever hoped to grasp came forth.
The cry of pain - no, horror - that followed was not human.
^^^more ^^^stories ^^^on ^^^r/forricide | 2017-04-13T04:16:06 | 2017-04-13T02:49:44 | 209 | 78 |
[WP] By some magic, you are granted the wish to become the best in the world at something. You are disappointed when you notice no change in your ability. The next day, however, you notice that all over the world, people are becoming worse at one very particular skill. | I thought it was a harmless wish.
But now everything's turned wrong.
Lucy no longer talks, nor does anyone else for that matter. She still understands me, or at least I think so from her slow nods and lifeless stares. At least Lucy's still active with her day job but in the end she, like everyone else, is only going through the motions.
At night I hold her hand tight and flip open our old picture book. We look at past events, memories of warmth, fun and excitement. If I crack enough dumb jokes then perhaps she could manage a smile.
But deep down I know it's all pointless. There is neither joy nor mirth in her expressions.
All I wanted was to be happy. | I throw the ball to Tim. Ready for my exultant. Nay, meteoric, rise into the NFL to begin. I bet I'm gonna throw this fucker a million miles. No. Two million miles. It's gonna curve along the earth until I can't see it.
It lands five feet from where I threw it.
Tim races forward and dips down, grabbing the football in one fluid motion. His fingers relax and the ball slips out of his hands onto the grass.
"Damn, I thought I had that," Tim sighs. "I wish I was as good as you, Hank."
"I barely threw that five feet," I say both stunned and almost as a question. Cause. seriously, what good was that fucking Genie? I said, in no uncertain terms, I wanted to be a football God. I threw that ball like always.
"That's what I'm saying, dude. Five feet is so far. You're amazing," Tim responds almost in awe.
"No, I'm not," I toss the ball over to him. I pegs him right in the nuts. He drops quickly.
I rush over and pat him on the back, "You ok, buddy?"
"Yeah. I'm good. I'm good," Tim repeats mostly to himself.
Across the park a group of college students are playing football too. It's then I notice that they're moving in a strange shuffling pattern that only yields the each player a few inches of yard per play. At that rate, it's going to take a full hour for a single team to score.
One points my way and shouts, "Guys, it's Hank."
The group runs my way and throws their ball. Or, should I say, tries to throw their ball. It only flies a couple of inches and drops to the grass.
"Shit, sorry," The kid says. "I thought I had that."
"No problem," I say before noticing that they somehow knew my name. "Wait. How do you know my name?"
"Hank Jennings? Everyone does," The kid says.
"Everyone," Tim agrees from his prone position on the ground, nursing his nuts.
"Because of football?" I finally start to understand and connect the dots.
"You're the all-time greatest player in the history of the NFL," The kid smiles. He kicks the ground a bit. Before sheepishly adding. "Would you sign my ball?"
I'm about to protest in a confused blur. But he waves a marker in my face and I suddenly agree. He tosses the ball over. It lands squarely in my nuts. | 2017-05-01T02:41:51 | 2017-04-30T20:36:56 | 1,800 | 445 |
[WP] All humans are immortal until they find their "soulmate," after which they age regularly. You, however, have been around since the Ice Age... | "You know when I was young I used to think that being immortal was the best thing in the world." I said to the cockroach in my hands though he is not very responsive and not very talkative, I still continued my tale.
"For over 10000 years I traveled the world, I even witnessed history in the making. I saw Empires crumble and turn into dust while others raised to great heights. meanwhile I would drink, gamble and whore to my hearts contents avoiding connections like the plague, after all who wants to die?
The cockroach continued staring at me as if nothing got through to his tiny brain. I however knew that he understood me or at least I hoped so, for I had a very special request for this 6 legged bugger.
"I curse my foolishness to this day for thinking I could live as an immortal without consequences forever. Most of my friends had died by the time I turned 300 with large happy families left behind and with sons and daughters on their own quests to seek their soulmate."
There was not much room in my newest home. It was cramped and all the walls had markings on them to keep track of time. though There had been no new markings in countless years. I felt the cockroach moving in my hand and with great speed it ran out of the small crevice it came from the only exist to my own personal hell.
I croaked "No don't go, please don't leave me here!"
I felt tears run down my cheeks and my chest tightened with despair.
"I was only going to ask you to be my soulmate."
| The rule sounds simple enough. But it's really a bit more complicated than it first appears to be and, if you ask me, a bit of a headache for everyone involved.
We all know that we don't age until we find our soulmate. But when do we *stop* aging? After all, if we never aged a day, we'd all be tiny little babies, and tiny little babies aren't particularly adept at travelling the world and finding their soulmates.
There were lots and lots of hypotheses for that one, once upon a time. But that ended quite a while ago - two centuries, maybe?
Edward Blake was the fellow who figured it out and finally put all the speculation to rest. It turns out folks don't get their immortality until they've made some kind of connection with their soulmate. This connection could be psychic in nature, but usually it's just physical proximity - which explains the rise in the number of Pixies since giant cities started forming. Luckily, a big city usually means plenty of support from social organizations. In fact, ever since the introduction of affordable immortality verification technologies, it has been pretty much standard for metropolitan hospitals to have a service team dedicated to Pixies - their parents would be told of the situation, the baby Pixie would be placed in a little crib, and at the end of the week, all the hospitals in the area would come together and let their respective collection of Pixies make weird baby sounds and throw snots at each other until they've all 'found' their soulmates and start to grow into something a little more dignified.
I guess that would also be the second hidden rule of this whole soulmate thing - your soulmate is always born at the same time as you. Some people like to romantize the idea, taking it as a sign that the lovers are really one soul split into two, born into two bodies. If you ask me, I say it's because whatever god came up with this stupid rule had at least a tiny bit of intelligence and foresight - a 30 year old being paired with a newborn isn't going to work out particularly well, after all.
And a stupid rule it has been for me. For thousands of years I had roamed the world, still as young and immortal as the day we lost the battle against the Binu tribe. For thousands of years I had lived, watching empires rise and fall, humanity grow and wither and grow again. I watched as nomadic tribes built settlements, as these settlements grew into villages. I watched as these villages found each other, as more and more people intermingled. With the increased contact and longer lifespans came an increased chance of actually coming across one's soulmate before passing away, and so I witnessed the rise of the first generation of immortals. These bastards were usually either bandits and vagabonds bouncing from village to village, or the children of wealthy merchants or nobilities. They were hailed as gods - or demons, depending on what they chose to do with their lives - and became supreme rulers of the land.
Of course, as humanity continued to grow and more and more people came together, villages became towns, and towns became cities. The immortal gods of the ancient days eventually lost their power as more and more people came across their soulmates, and the rules of immortality became better understood. | 2017-05-22T13:50:00 | 2017-05-22T11:35:42 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] A powerful necromancer is trying to raise the dead. However, despite trying different vessels and rituals, he has only raised you. Over. And over. And over. You're both starting to get sick of each other. | "Oh, son of a-"
I awoke with a figure standing over me, a deep leather cowl hiding his face.
"What? Not happy with me?" I asked.
*Really should not have taken this job.*
"Of course not! I bought this necromancy spell -"
"From where?"
"The local shop. Was quite a bargain, for raising an undead army. If I could get more than you." He stood and started to wander towards his alchemy station, looking for the poison he'd used so many times before.
"Well, maybe if you went to the college, you'd learn how to use it *properly*."
*I mean, I know my eternal debt was high, but this is a bit much.*
"Shut up, you -"
"Something wrong? Did I say something improperly... Mr. Smith?" I'd figured it out some five reincarnations ago. The blacksmith of the town, performing necromancy in a cabin in the woods? How delicious it would be to tell everyone - to ruin this jackass's reputation for surplus of one hundred reincarnations in the same damn spot.
Smith had found the poison now. "You know how this goes, by now. I need you to do something when you get down there."
"Whatever it is, I can't help you. My job is to deter those who use this spell with no heed to it's effects. You've been trying to raise... someone... and you aren't properly trained."
*It's like I'm stuck in a loop. Over and over, I show up here.*
"So, I have to go to the college to see her again?"
"In a nutshell." He handed me the poison.
"You do the honors. Thank you." I downed the poison in one go.
Returning to hell, I sat at my desk.
*I didn't realize secretary was such a hard job.* | Yolden was jerked upright. He felt something snap in his waist, twist in his gut. His nerves had rotted a long time ago, but somehow his body knew that he *should* be feeling pain, and thus he felt it. Yolden gripped at air until his knuckled turned white and wheezed out painful breaths.
The moonlight was bright and painful to look at, obscured only by a faint shadowy figure. "You again." He muttered.
The figure bent down to a squat and pulled something from Yolden's gut. As hunk of iron slid out, Yolden felt his half-disintergrated intensive shift and groan. He did likewise. The pain was unbearable. Agony like a fiery whip licking up his gut and searing the skin.
"You're... not..." Yolden wheezed, trying to form the words on the remainders of his tongue. "...done. Why?"
Teeth glistened like stars in the moonlight. A horrid, wretched grin. "I shan't be done for a while yet." Dhesty tipped back his broad brimmed hat to let a tumbled of black curls fall to his shoulders. "I will finish hurting you, when the pain you left fades."
"And when," Yolden managed, "will that be?"
"When I see them again."
"You could have brought them back from the first. Why didn't you?"
"You who has tasted death," Dhestry said, "knows how sweet it is. You surely understand why I have let them revel in it."
Yolden coughed out a laugh. "You think that they would find death sweeter than you?" He licked at his greening gums. "Perhaps you're right, you bitter sack of shit. I did those fuckers a favour, getting them away from you. You should be thanking me."
Dhestry rose from his squat, hefted the sabre in his hands.
"They would be thanking me." Yolden said, drifting a pale hand to Dhest. "They would grab me by the arms and kiss me by the cheek."
"And did they?"
"You know that's not how it works." Yolden shook his head. "Don't think I haven't seen the rings on your neck, Dhestry LeStride. You've touched the other side, explains how you have so little trouble pulling me back."
"I assure you," Dhestry spat, "It is no *little trouble.*"
"And yet you keep on doing it. Are you satisfied yet? Has it brought them back?"
With the flick of his wrist, Dhestry spun the sabre in his hands. In a flash, he drove it down through Yolden's collar, down to the hilt and pinning him to the earth. Dhestry returned to his squat, ignoring the anguished cries of the once-dead man before him. He pulled at the collar of his jacket, revealing the sickly pale skin of his neck. His throat was marred by a ring of black, tattoos set from the sting of a hempen rope. "They can't come back." Dhestry whispered. "And I've already walked the grave."
"You think I haven't walked the grave, Dhestry?" Yolden said. "How is it you can't cross over again but I can?"
"I've walked this world two hundred years and could not tell you why. Maybe each man can only cross a certain amount of times."
Yolden cocked an eyebrow. "Is that so? Then how many times is it for me? Fifty? Five hundred?
There was that smile again, somehow more piecing than his blade. "That's what I'm trying to find out." | 2017-07-22T07:31:01 | 2017-07-22T05:38:54 | 62 | 27 |
[WP] Everyone gets a familiar when they turn eleven - maybe a cat or a dog or a chipmunk. On your eleventh birthday, you hear a massive thump outside your house. | Emily cared little for the cake or presents. Red Velvet was nice, sure. A new doll? Nifty. What she was really anticipating though was the arrival of her familiar. This year the birthday party was a subdued affair, only her and her parents, there would be no distractions when *it* arrived. Her mother's familiar was a beautiful cardinal and her father's was a feisty crow, both enjoying a bite of cake on the table alongside their patrons. It was speculated that the familiar's form might be genetic, perhaps Emily would get a bird as well. A bird would be nice, and if so she hoped it would be cute. Emily nibbled nervously at the cake, "How much longer?"
"Almost, you were born at 6:37 pm, just wait a little lmore," Her mother assured her.
Emily could scarcely contain her excitement and nervousness. If it wasn't a bird would her parents be disappointed?
And then a massive thump right outside the door.
"Is that-!?"
"Oh it *can't* be".
"You don't think-"
Emily rushed past her parents with a wild grin and flung the door open, screaming excitedly upon seeing *it*, "Oh he's beautiful!"
Her parents and their familiars crept out nervously, mouths agape. Emily was all joy and wonder by contrast, eyes wide like saucers, "My name is Emily and it is so nice to meet you".
She didn't care that her familiar wasn't a bird. Oh no he was *even better.* Large eyes lowered to meet her gaze and she saw they were already full of love. She reached out to touch its wet nose and was greeted with a giant tongue, saying hello the only way it could.
Emily turned back to her parents triumphantly, "His name will be Clifford! Clifford the big red dog!"
| Cory Lairus sat upon the branch of the large tree in his tiny backyard. He had always wanted a tree-house. Every time he asked his mother or father, they would reply, "We don't even own this house; why do you deserve your own special house?"
Although Cory knew in his heart that his parents typically strived to do what's best for him and each other, their poor economic situation hindered their abilities to do so. Two years ago, on Cory's 9th birthday, his father remained absent the entire day and night. His mother handed him a single gift- a stuffed toy owl. It was cheap. It was clearly second-hand. But it immediately became Cory's best friend.
"Milly!" Cory would call from his tree branch at his stuffed owl that sat perched on his window sill. "Milly, fly into the sky! Bring us the most amazing gift a boy could ask for!"
Cory tore off a leaf from the branch that he sat upon. Today- or, rather, tonight- was his 11th birthday. He had yet to see his father. Surprising? No. Disappointing (and once more, to the point of tears)? Of course.
"Cory H. Lairus!" His mother called at him in the darkness. "How many times do I have to tell you? Get down from there! You're going to hurt yourself!"
She stood at the backdoor with a plate in her hand. On the plate was a cupcake with a candle sticking out of the top. Cory's mother baked the most delicious sweets. As well she should- until last April, she was a junior pastry chef at a local kitchen.
Cory hopped down from the tree and sprinted to his mother. He gave her a great, loving hug. She warmly smiled at him. "Happy birthday, Cory."
Cory tightened his hug as his heart flooded with emotion. "Mama. Thank you," he whispered to his mother. There were no presents for Cory this year. He had learned to never expect gifts; just a cupcake donned with a candle. This was all Cory needed to reassure him that there was at least one day every year that he *knew* his mother truly had a place for Cory in her heart.
Milly, Cory's stuffed toy owl, watched from her seat at Cory's bedroom window as Cory ceased the hug. "Make a wish," Cory thought to himself as he closed his eyes in preparation to blow out the cupcake's candle. "I wish for Milly to come to life."
Cory blew out the candle. He opened his eyes, grinned with uncertain hope, and removed the candle from the cupcake. Milly was no longer perched at Cory's window sill. Before he could take his first bite, a ***THUMP*** sounded from inside the house. "Father is home!" Cory gleefully shouted. He and his mother rushed inside to find the source of the noise. No one was at the front door. His father wasn't home. Cory's mother bent over to retrieve an object from the ground in front of the mail slot.
A letter.
Addressed to Cory.
*Dear Mr Cory Lairus,*
*We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find a list of all necessary books and equipment.*
*Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.*
*Yours Sincerely,*
*Minerva McGonagall*
*Deputy Headmistress*
A set of owl wings audibly flapped from the other side of the front door.
Finally, Cory Lairus would have his special house- Hufflepuff. | 2017-09-20T23:20:51 | 2017-09-20T23:17:13 | 103 | 56 |
[WP] Instead of heaven or hell, when you die, you find yourself in the room of a six year-old girl who invites you to join her tea party. It soon dawns on you, you're her imaginary friend! | The years pass and, if this is heaven, I can understand. I love her like a daughter, and we've formed a bond that I never experienced when I was alive.
I watch her grow, and every day, I feel a pride burning deep inside of me. *I made her what she is.* We sip tea and we laugh, and I help her forget her troubles.
One day, she comes upstairs, and I rush to say hello. She doesn't even look at me. She's holding a phone in her hand, and she's texting her classmates with an apathetic expression painted on her face.
I try and hug her, and I fall straight through, like an invisible mist.
I understand. This was never heaven...
(I wish I had more than four minutes to write this, but I love the prompt so much!) | I don't remember a flash of light, or a hall of darkness. In fact I don't really remember much, but when I opened my eyes there she was.
"And here you go. There's your's." She had a sweet little voice.
"What, what's going on here?" I didn't understand, where was this? How did I get here?
"We're having tea silly." She chuckled as she slid an empty plate to my seat.
"How did I get here? Where is this?" I became sort of frantic.
"We're home? You're funny."
Confused I decided to ay along and reached out for the empty cup before me. My finger slipped through the plastic object. Suprised I furiously swiped my hand through the cup, to which the little girl began to giggle. I stopped and watched as she laughed, a smile began to form on my face as if her her joy was contagious. When she was finished laughing at me she just sat and stared. Again I reached for the cup. As my finger wrapped around the handle I pretended to bring the cup to my lips and drink.
She smiled. "Is it good?"
"Its delicious." I responded. I watched her as she pretended to feed her toys around the table. A splitting pain erupted in my head and odd images flashed through my mind. Memories came like scrolling images and flooded my thoughts. I could see myself near the end, so dark and afraid. I tried to make them stop, I didn't want to see it all again. I felt a tear roll off my face. I heard the door swing open and I quickly wiped the tear away.
A woman carrying a basket of clothes on her hip was standing in the doorway. "Are you having tea with your friends?" The woman asked. I looked at the woman and waved, she didn't respond. "Who's that plate for?" She gestured to my seat.
"That's for... hmm? What's your name?" She asked gleefully.
I sniffled and attempted a smile. "Why don't you decide?" I said calmly.
"Hmmmmm. How about Frank?"
"Frank?" I asked, curious.
"Yeah my daddy's name is Hank so you can be Frank. Hank and Frank." She giggled.
Her mother smiled and shook her head. "Okay well you play nice with your guest Frank." She left the room.
"Ohh, Frank meet Princess Wiggles, Mister Paws and this one's Mandy." She pointed to each of her toys.
"I smiled at the toys and gave a light wave. "Hi, I'm Frank."
_
r/TheoreticalFictions | 2017-12-19T08:12:39 | 2017-12-19T07:15:39 | 102 | 59 |
[WP] In order to get a shot at going to Valhalla, you must die with a weapon in your hands. You just died and are now sitting in front of Odin's advisory board as they discuss whether a spatula actually counts. | Odin leaned forward in his gilded throne, his single eye judging the young man who stood before him.
"What do you make of this, mortal?" Odin asked looking to his left and right, down the line of gods.
Thor scoffed, "This pathetic creature is no warrior! Look at his frail limbs and tiny body. How many frost giants have you slain?"
"Uh, none," the young man stammered out.
"How many of your foes have you deceived in order to turn the tide of war?" Loki asked behind steepled fingers.
"I don't really like lying," the young man answered.
"And what of that weapon in your hand? How many lives has that taken? How many trophies have you carved from the bodies of the fallen?"
"Well it doesn't really do any of that."
"Does it have any mystical properties? Perhaps it returns when you throw it?" Thor asked caressing his hammer.
The young man shook his head no.
"Then why are you here? What can you possibly do to earn your place here among the greatest heroes of all time?"
The young man thought for a moment and hefted the metal spatula.
"It does have a power. Something that very few things can possess," he paused and met the eyes of the gods sitting in front of him.
"It has the power to slay hunger!" he roared and thrust the spatula into the air.
Odin slammed his hands down on the table, thunder tore through the chamber shaking the young man violently. A small smile spread across his lips and his chest began to heave. Laughter bubbled up from inside of Odin and he found himself gripping his sides trying to contain his laughter. He wiped away a lone tear that streaked down his wrinkled cheek.
"Ah, my boy. It has been too long since I have laughed like that. It brings me great pleasure," he paused stifling another bout of laughter, "To banish you to Hel."
The floor beneath the young man's feet vanished sending him plummeting through darkness to Hel waiting below.
---
Thanks for reading! Check out /r/Written4Reddit for more stories!
| "My lord, you must understand this is no ordinary spatula." I said
standing in front of the mighty Odin and his board. How did I even get into this situation? My whole life I have been the mightiest of warriors, fought countless battles, outsmarted the smartest opponents. Yet here I stand, with a spatula in my hand. I suppose in my old age I became complacent. When you've fought as many battles as I have you can get complacent. It has been years since I have been truly challenged. Not only through brute strength, but through wit and intelligence. There is no one who could create a better battle plan than me. I have faced giants and cyclops, 100 times my size. Yet they all fell the same as the smallest man. It was my intelligence and ability to think on the spot that has saved me more times than my sword and it's what will save me now.
"I see nothing special about this spatula. There is no denying you were a mighty warrior, but your arrogance cost you. Ignoring a call to arms to make an omelette is not honorable. Your ignorance caused you to lower your guard and be killed in your own kitchen." Odin replied.
"I know it seems that way my lord, but I was not preparing food. I was retrieving my mightiest weapon. You see this is no ordinary spatula. This is a Hydrodynamic Spatula with port and starboard attachments, and let's not forget the turbo drive!" I replied. "With this weapon even the mightiest of demons have fallen."
The board looked at me dumbfounded, but they hadn't stopped me. This is my only shot and I have to sell this.
"You see my lord, this is the only one of it's kind in existence. It has been passed down from the descendants of...King Neptune. The mighty guardian of the bottom of the sea. It has been used to feed armies as well as defeat the dreaded...nematodes!" I spat out. "You see the nematodes were a dreaded race of creatures. They would travel in packs of hundred and destroy a village by consuming all it's resources. After they were done they would leave the villagers to starve. Until one day, a mighty warrior arose to stop them. The great warrior Bob lord of the Sponge. With his specially square suit and the hydrodynamic spatula with port and starboard attachments..."
"Don't forget the turbo drive" Interrupted Odin.
"Yes the turbo drive of course. Well the Lord of the Sponge was able to defeat the entire army and save his village. All done with this weapon. So you see my lord, this is no spatula. This is a weapon fit for a God. The defender of the sea, the protector of village resources, this is the ultimate weapon!" I shouted. The room grew quiet. Odin began to converse in whispers with his advisors. I stood there in silence, my knuckles white gripping this damn spatula.
"In lieu of this new information the board has decided to allow you entry into Valhalla. As well as take the hydrodynamic spatula, with port and starboard attachments and turbo drive , and keep it in Asgard. It will sit amongst Mjolnir and Gungnir. It will be studied and understood to harness it's power." Odin said.
I can't believe this worked. By the time they realize it's just a regular spatula I'll be in Valhalla. Who knows, maybe they can turn it into a weapon. It did just save my life so it can't be all bad.
"Warrior, we thank you for bringing this power weapon to our attention. With this the armies of Asgard can only get stronger. Now, it is time for you to take your place in Valhalla. Shall we go?" Odin said as he stood from his thrown to guide the way. There was only one thing I could say.
"I'm ready." | 2022-04-10T19:23:46 | 2018-03-26T11:25:33 | 393 | 51 |
[WP] Panic spreads amongst the African Vampire community after Toto blesses the rains. | "Hey Johnson, you notice we've been getting a lot of late night flyers coming in from Africa?"
"Yeah man, their luggage is freakin weird too. One guy had an empty coffin!"
"You see that guy who said he worked for a blood bank? Had at least 20 pounds of blood in his bag, made a huge fuss when we had to confiscate it." | I heard the drums echo in the night. But it sounds like whispers of some quite conversation. The moon was riding in at 12:30 flying across the sky shining down leading me to salvation.
I met a man along the way, hoping to find some wisdom in his words among the melodies. I turned to him as he began to say: "Hurry boy it's coming here for you!"
######And I said:
>It's gonna take a lot to drive me AWAY from Here! There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do!
But he blessed the rains down in AFRICA. The water burned me in a way it never HAD! OH! Ouch oof owie,
The Werewolves cried out in the night. Growing restless as they began to feed. I know now that something's not right. Just as the raindrops cover the moon that helps me see. It seeks to cure the fit inside, frightened of this thing that I've become!
######And it said:
>It's gonna take a lot to drag you away from here! There's not much 100 men could ever do! But I've blessed the RAINS down in AFRICA! They will burn you like the Beast that you are!
>>HURRY BOY IT'S COMING HERE FOR YOU!
######So I said
>It's gonna take a lot to drive me AWAY from Here! There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do! But you've blessed the rains right above my head. I'll say my prayers for I think this the end.
I BLESSED THE RAINS DOWN IN AFRICA!
say again?
>I blessed the rains down in AFRICA!
>>OH YOU'VE BLESSES THE RAINS!
>I BLESSED the Rains down in Africa!
>>Oh man it HURTS!
>I BLESS THE RAINS DOWN IN AFRICA!
I bless the rains down in Africa.
>AAAAaaaAhhbahahha my GOD IT BURNS!! *HISS* *HISSSSSS*
It is time for you to Pay for what you've DONE! OH. | 2018-06-11T09:23:06 | 2018-06-11T09:17:28 | 71 | 21 |
[WP] You watch in horror as the last member of your ragtag group is eaten alive by zombies. Suddenly everything goes black, and the words flash in front of your face “congratulations, you are the last player standing!” The VR headset pulls away from your face to reveal a world you have no memory of | No, this was not how it was supposed to end! We had a plan! We had hope! And then just had to insist checking the apartment complex; maybe there could be food or someone who needed help? Goddamn idiot! He shut up the minute we got ambushed, the minute Ellie was torn to pieces.
Oh god, Ellie. It was so sudden, so shocking, that none of us were able to react in time. There was a lurker, slumped in the doorway of an unlocked apartment. The minute she stepped through the doorway, it latched on to her leg and the scream that emanated was enough to alert every rotting lump to our location.
We were swarmed. I’m the only one left.
I’ve shut myself into another apartment. I can still hear screams from the halls. I know it’s only a matter of time before I am either torn to shred unless I choose to take my own like. My pistol weights heavy in my hand, the scream die down, I-
CONGRATULATIONS, YOU ARE THE LAST PLAYER STANDING!
I put my hands to me face, struggling briefly with the VR system. What was going on? I looked around, the room I was in was dark and empty. Where was I?
More importantly, where were James? And Ellie? Where were the rest of the group!?
I hear a buzzing somewhere from the room, my body seizes up in fear, eyes scan the darkness for any sign of movement. And then a door opens.
“How was that for you, miss?” Comes a chipper voice from the doorway, a woman with a clip board is stood by the door, all I can see is light behind her.
“What?” I ask, dumbly. “Who are you?”
The woman laughs, flicking on a light, illuminating my surroundings. The room was just as empty, but the floor where I was stood had a weird system of treadmills. On the wall “NEW WAVE: VR ADVENTURES” written in a bold blue font.
“That good, huh? Come one, I assure you that you are perfectly safe. We’ll take you to the de-brief room and get you something to drink. You team mates are already waiting.”
I felt like a lump had formed in my throat, all I could feel still was fear and anger and confusion and loss. Was this how you felt after every game? | Seth's eyelids were heavy.
Covered in blood, grime and every other kind of nasty shit he was nearly unrecognizable. He was holding his revolver close to his chest as he stared at Rey's once smiling face get bitten off by one of the revenants. Their teeth digging in to the skin of her once rosy cheeks as they tried to sate thier endless hunger.
Blood poured out of her eye sockets as one of them has peirced their sharp fingers through her warm brown eyes.
He could still hear the echo of her morbid screams ringing through his ears as she was slowly being consumed by the undead. A faint crick in his neck reminded him of the unforgiving snap of hers as she tried to break free from their grasps.
He was running beside her when one of them grabbed her, he tried to pull her back, even shoot one of the motherfuckers in the head but all they ended up with was the ominous sound of Rey's shoulder dislocating and a larger group of revenants being attracted by the sound of her wails.
He ran.
Pathetic.
Hidden within a skeleton of a broken down car Seth's heart was pumping blood a mile a minute. His knees were littered with scrapes and bruises, one of them he was sure he got from a rusty car part, but he couldn't care less.
Dave, Lory, Faith and even Jeune was dead by the sudden ambush of their base camp. He and Rey had barely escaped without any of their supplies aside from the single revolver Rey always kept under her pillow. They limped through the abandoned city but despite their best efforts, they were no match with the intelligence and superhuman qualities of the revenants, them bathing in the blood of the dead creatures only prolonging their inevitable death.
One bullet left.
He ran his fingers all over the hilt and the trigger. Everyone he knew was dead, the only reason he had left was now being consumed by the revenants 15 feet away from him. What use is living in a world where he was the only one left?
He was never the smartest nor the most atlethic in their group, he didn't deserve to be the last one left.
He ran a grimey hand on his chocolate brown locks as he remembered the group's happiest nights. They weren't the best nor were they the smartest but cheesy as it might fucking be they were family.
(But family doesn't abandon family Seth what do you mean by *family*)
Determined with a shaky breath, Seth raised the revolver on the side of his head.
'See you on the other side'
He pulled the trigger.
[[[ C O N G R A T U L A T I O N S ! ]]]
White light filled his vision.
_______________________________________________
He was in a stadium.
His hair was longer than he remembered it was, running all the way down his back. His facial hare felt itchier than poison ivy and he could hardly move, his limbs and muscles numb from whatever fucking drug they gave to him.
Strobe lights hurt his eyes as he realized that the stadium was full of people.
Living. Breathing. People.
(He could vividly remember the sickly palor of the revenants, their eyes milky white, their hair matted and dirty and their limbs that looked thin enough to be easily broken that actually held a fuck ton of strenght.)
The banners that were dispersed all throughout the stadium all read the same thing.
[CONGRATULATIONS!!! PLAYER <SETH REDWOOD> YOU HAVE WON THE MASSIVE MULTIPLAYER ONLINE GAME <THE SYMPHONY OF ADRENALINE> AND HAVE GAINED <20,000,000 CREDITS>]]]
His head hurts.
The man before him with a blue pompadour and a suit that could probably fucking replace the strobe lights looked at him with a smile that reached his ears.
"Goodmorning Mr. Redwood."
As Seth stared at his unnatural smile and the matching grins of the audience he there -fucking- fore concluded that there was something wrong before fainting from mental exhaustion.
| 2018-12-03T05:01:44 | 2018-12-03T00:36:38 | 24 | 13 |
[WP] Your high school teacher is introducing a new transfer student. You're bored as usual until you look up and see that the new student is a lizard. You quickly look around the room, but no one seems to notice or care. You turn back and the lizard is looking right at you. | I felt my face go slack-jawed at the first sight of her. I stared for what felt like an eternity, finally looking away to scan over the room. Surprisingly, no one else even batted an eye. When I focused my attention back to her, I found her staring me down. She must have noticed that I was observing the class reaction.
I quickly glanced down to my phone that I kept hidden under the table. *What in the world is going on?* I asked myself. *Is she some kind of...lizard-person?* As my brain continued to rack up possibilities of lizard conspiracies, I quickly typed her name into Facebook search: Leslie Ortiz. As the results slowly loaded (damn first-floor cell reception!), I heard the chair next to mine slide along the floor, followed by a large green figure stepping up and sitting down. My heart nearly froze.
"You can see me, can't you?" she asked in a whisper. "The *real* me."
I dared not look away from my phone, imagining that she would be staring at me with murderous intent. I could barely nod, my head only moving centimeters. I heard what sounded like a whimper, which brought me back to my senses. I looked over and saw her looking straight down at the floor, a single teardrop falling down the side of her face.
"Why now?" She sniffled. "We *just* moved. Why'd it have to be the first day?"
I looked back down at my phone; the feed was fully loaded now. I saw that she indeed just moved from halfway across the country. Then I noticed the pattern; I kept scrolling down and saw more address changes, averaging one or two per year, going back for what seemed like forever.
I glanced over at her; the tears were flowing more rapidly now. I quickly scanned the room and was relieved that nobody was looking our way. "Hey," I whispered. "I won't tell anyone. Promise."
She looked back at me, her eyes a little brighter. "Really?"
"I swear," I replied.
She gave me a warm smile. I smiled back. | The Speaker was doing their job while the Listeners did theirs. The assignment I received from my supervisor was simple enough. Go to these coordinates, put on this uniform, and blend in with the others. No more difficult than any past assignment but I had grown to hate it rather quickly. The Speakers congregated in this building made of crude red rocks and they would drone on for a period of time to a room of little Listeners. Some Listeners would draw shapes in a line with a small stick while others hid white wires in their ears and gently bobbed their heads. Some would just close their eyes but that seemed to upset the Speakers when they spotted it. A bell would ding, and all the Listeners would gather their supplies and scurry to the next Speaker in a different room. It was all nonsense to me.
My supervisor, like the typical council suck up they were, told me it was a very important assignment. Crucial to the new Excellency’s expansion efforts they said. To be honest, I didn’t give a shit about the Excellency or their expansion effort but my supervisor, their supervisor, and the Grand Council did very much, apparently. I was one of the top seekers in the department and had been for nearly three quarters of my life. I had been sent on assignments all over and my results were outstanding. I was the seeker who single handedly brought an end to the Third Great Rebellion for Pod’s sake. I was a fucking legend. It would be an understatement to say I was overqualified for this assignment. But, I had no choice when my supervisor walked into my office and dropped the file on my desk. We had lost two seekers already and we were running out of time they said. So, within two clicks I was already on my way to the destination.
It didn’t take long to settle into the monotonous routine of the Listeners and the Speakers didn’t seem to notice or care who I was. To them I just looked like all the other Listeners. I sat through many sessions as I moved from room to room over and over. At certain times everyone would leave the red building, but they would always come back after the sky turned blue again. It was incredibly boring and painfully repetitive. To make matters worse I had been there for many cycles and still had not found my target. An assignment had never taken me so long. In fact, I was just about to request a recall and probably apply for retirement when the Speaker motioned towards the door and a new Listener walked in.
Well, I thought it was a Listener at first, but their head immediately turned towards me and before I was even able to adjust the focus on my vision prism I knew I was fucked. The fuzzy image of their green skin appeared and the piercing glare from their glossy yellow eyes froze my entire body. I didn’t understand how I could be so careless. I was a legend. Or so I thought. Maybe I was getting old. Maybe I was already old. Either way it didn’t matter anymore. I had just enough time to think of my supervisor and how mad they would be. I wished I could have been there the moment they were informed the greatest seeker in the department had failed the assignment. I pictured them fuming and yelling and smashing their clenched fist through their desk. I could see the look on their face when they realized there would be no expansion for the new Excellency. That gave me some solace. Our entire department was as washed up and dated as the critics, doubters and naysayers had said. Our time had come. We were finished, and it was actually quite a relief. I was tired. I had dedicated the majority of my life to my work and had very little to show for it aside from some badges and several small plaques. I was ready to leave it all behind. I was ready to go. I gave one last look towards my target, nodded my head, and I was vaporized on the spot. | 2019-05-22T20:28:25 | 2019-05-22T20:10:51 | 35 | 14 |
[WP] WritingPrompt: A man asks you in a shakey voice if you're alright. You hesitantly say yes, to which he responds by getting a look of terrified horror and screams "I knew it! You can see them too! Don't let them get you!" |
I see things that I cannot see.
When the first snowflake fell on autumn leaves, I heard the trunk groan from the weight of the snow. I saw the oak fall, collapsing with a powdery cloud on black asphalt. There was nothing I could do to change this.
In the car, knowing the inevitable, the driver’s eyes widened. My father’s eyes. He reached a hand to the backseat; I was all he could think of. The moment hung perilously in the air. Black tires skidded on black ice. Wood shattered glass and punctured airbags.
Crimson rivulets ran down white cheeks and cold eyes.
And I cannot see that. Because the first snowflake is still falling—and the car is still parked in the driveway—and my father’s eyes are still warm. I cannot see it, and yet I know it will happen because I can see the fragments.
“We need to leave,” I said. “It’s going to snow.”
“Not yet,” my father said, without seeing or knowing, “We have to wait for your mother.”
My mother wasn’t coming. She was visiting the neighbor for hot coffee and heavy petting. My father didn’t know this; he couldn’t see it. I tried to tell him about the neighbor, but my father didn’t listen. He said that my mother loves him very much. She would never do such a thing.
The truth was right before his eyes and yet he couldn’t see the fragments; no one else can.
I cannot see the man who pulls me from the wreckage. How could I know that his badge will be stained the color of a liquid rose, and his breath will smell like gumdrops? How can I see the station, and the candy machine that doesn’t work, and the water fountain that tastes like plastic?
I cannot see these things, and yet I do, because the first snowflake is still falling.
My mother won’t answer her phone because it is on the kitchen counter along with her bra and panties, and she will be in the study, and the bathroom, and the bedroom in that order. My neighbor’s breath smells like wine and sadness. He left the kitchen sink running.
I see the number of missed calls before my mother finally answers. It’s a lot. She won’t want to return to the station. When she does, she’ll pick me up, give me a hug and tell me everything is going to be alright.
But it’s not going to be alright. I can see it.
I can see the fragments of the wine bottle, but I don’t know if the fragments are from the first bottle or the third. I can see locks of hair clipped on the bathroom floor. My locks of hair.
I can see myself crying and hugging my teddy. I don’t have a teddy. Maybe my mother will buy me one—or maybe it will be the officer—because I can’t see that particular fragment and know for certain. I don’t see them all, only the fragments that matter.
I can see my teddy falling into the grass. I don’t know why I need to see that fragment.
Now I can see the teddy locked away in a box. I’m standing nearby wearing an orange vest and not enough hair. The officer is wiping his damp eyes. I think he knows that it’s not my fault for the things I did, but he has a job to do regardless.
I can see the courtroom.
I can see the steel bars painted grey.
I cannot see my mother, and I think I know why.
I can’t see all the fragments that lead me to what I will become, but I know that the fragments all converge in one moment. There’s a single point in which they all connect, and all the different lines converge and cross. It's here and now.
The snowflake tastes like butter on my tongue.
I see the man talking to me. I cannot see this, but I know that his eyes will go to the size of coals, just like my father. He believes me. He sees the fragments too. He’s the only one who will ever believe me, but it will be far too late because the fragments stop shortly afterward. I’d like to think they cured me; I hope they fixed my vision. I want to see in more than fragments—and instead see the world around me as it should be seen—with all the lies. I like not knowing the future.
I cannot see what happens after that moment, and that makes me smile. | "Let what inside me?" you try to casually reply eyebrows raised. You can't trust anyone right now, not after the week you had.
"Demons... Angels!!! The battle of heaven and hell is upon us, the unfathomable war for our very souls stakes its claim on you! Which side do you choose?!?" the man barks at you as he turns around now displaying his poster with the words 'the end is nigh' rather haphazardly painted on the inside of an old Amazon cardboard box.
&#x200B;
"Oh thank god," you reply. "You're just bat shit crazy!" You toss some loose change in his up turned hat and jokingly reply, "Here, you pick my side for me."
&#x200B;
"Bless you! You fight for the light!" he says turning to engage the next nearest pedestrian. He genuinely seems thrilled with the 41 cents flung his way. *Unbelievable* you think, the joy a quarter, dime, nickel and penny can bring to some.
You find yourself truly envying the man. To have no money, no assets, no power... they would never go after him. You? You are not so lucky. You were on the development team that created them. You have seen first hand what they can do when they truly want to get someone.
You had reservations... making data mining into such a literal entity. But hey, every young upstart in silicon valley wants their first Billion. So you pressed on. Worst case you thought to yourself was a little more spending, a lot more ad revenue, and the e commerce wheel keeps spinning. No harm right? So you invented them... the tiny nanobots so small the human eye cannot see them. YOU did this.
&#x200B;
Amazon, Google, Facebook... the big three. Oh the money you would make. Data mining ad seeking brain leaches. Swarms of millions of tiny bots reading people's thoughts for targeted advertising. It was revolutionary... and the Ethics issues were never discussed in any certain terms. They invaded everyone's privacy anyway... why was this any worse?
Or so you thought.
You can still think for yourself... for now.
There was always a chance these things could implant thoughts instead of stealing them. Thoughts of a young genius pushing IQ tests to the brink are worth what exactly when you miss the obvious? Of course they could be used to control thoughts... of course the government would have agents in the tech giants looking for the next big break through. Of course the NSA and CIA would fight for your tech, your data mining turned data pushing nano bots.
You pick up your pace. You have about 12 minutes to make the train station and get out of San Francisco. Can't travel by air, not with the facial recognition and security everywhere at the airport. A light green lit cloud of dust catches your attention. You focus your smart glasses and ask your on board AI, "What is the distance to that cloud?"*1.6 miles north by northwest from our location*
The train station is Northeast. It's going to be close. You pick up your pace to a jog. 'Do not get caught by that cloud with this thumb drive'... jog advances to a run... 'Do not get caught by that cloud with this thumb drive'... now a full on sprint... 'Do not get caught by that cloud with this thumb drive you freaking idiot!' You keep repeating over and over to focus on your one task. Escape. Your AI chimes in.*Sir, radio chatter has picked up an APB on you by SFPD and MUNI transit police.*
DAMN DAMN DAMN! You can't get on that train now. Think! You're so damn smart... Think. You slow down, rest hunched over, hands on your knees catching your breath. You raise a hand to your glasses and zoom off in the distance, the cloud is advancing south. Every soul it encompasses now a puppet.
A puppet you created.
The cloud is almost on top of you, time to retreat. Maybe a low yield EMP could disable them. All the safeguards you built in start racing through your head as you also start racing. South this time. You notice a share scooter still on the clock from a lady momentarily stopped to grab a coffee from the street vendor. 'Thank you,' you politely say to her with your internal voice, swiping the scooter and plowing forward, onto the bike lane.
OK this is good. You can stay ahead of the cloud now, they can't track you because the scooter is still checked out to the poor lady you just stole it from. You have a chance now. The solution pours into the back of your head like the first beer on a Friday happy hour... of course! If you can make it to your computer in your apartment, you can run the initiating program backwards and the base line programming will shut down the nanobots. It's not a permanent solution but it will buy you some time you think... while you still can think...
CRASH!!!! You blow into a frail older homeless man that just stepped in front of you out of no where.
"What the hell, MAN???" you scream as you pick yourself up... and notice a green glow now outlines the cars to your left. Another cloud snuck up on you from the East. Now the right... your glasses let you see yet another cloud of nanobots swarming through the alley towards the main street. My god they're everywhere. The old man reaches his hand out to help you to your feet. You instantly fear this man is controlled by the bots already as you try to collect your thoughts. This is bad. This is really bad...
The man asks you in a shaky voice "Are you alright?"
You hesitantly say, "Yes." But you don't fool him as a look of terrified horror fills his face. It was the same man from before but he has abandoned his sign. The clouds now envelope the two of you.
It's over now. They have you.
"I knew it! You can see them too!," the man says. He is no longer speaking of angels and demons. "Don't let them get..." | 2019-07-01T08:00:59 | 2019-07-01T07:50:05 | 200 | 30 |
[WP] A billionaire hands you a unique and intricate coin. "In an hour," he says, "I will tell the world what I have given you. In a week, I will leave my inheritance to whoever returns it to me. I will not accept it before then." | The race was on, a YouTube video detailing my name and address was already live with thousands of views.
I hadn't actually taught of a plan I just ran as far away as possible, cut my hair and bought the most generic clothes I could find in the span of an hour.
Of course I couldn't return home, or even stay anywhere near the billionaire's Mansion, I just had one plan.
"Hey Terry! It's been ages friend"
Terry was a highschool aquaintance, even calling him a friend felt like a stretch, but nobody would be suspicious of him
"Dude! Is it true? Do you have the coin?"
He lived far away and I had his number, I don't think I thought this through enough
"Can I trust you"
That's all I said, hoping to not give too many details
".... Sure! Of course!"
He waited too long... I liked that
"I'm sure you are aware of my situation, and I need a place to crash for a week"
A week has passed and I honestly couldn't be happier, he had asked for half the fortune but we settled on a third, I had to live in the attic and eat only scraps cause he was even more paranoid than me, only buying his regular food portions and not letting me come down. He also has a son, I never saw him though.
But now the hard part was on, we had to go the Mansion and I was sure I wasn't the only one going. | "An hour?"
"Yes, an hour."
"...shit."
I ran home and quickly drafted an email to my boss, telling him I was taking the next week off. I then wrote a quick note to the wife, telling her to go to my parent's place and stay out of sight. If anyone asked, I'd disappeared, and I'd left my cell phone with her so I couldn't be contacted.
Next, I used the credit card and the web browser on my computer to buy a plane ticket to Mexico City leaving in 8 hours, and looked up various routes through Central America down through Brazil. I left the web browser up and my computer unlocked, then I grabbed my "get the fuck out of dodge" bag and started walking to the ATM about a mile away from home. I withdrew $500 in cash, and then started walking in to town. I knew there were abandoned buildings there that I could hunker down in for at least a day or two, but there was more to be done to keep my location a secret first.
I stopped in a parking lot for a few moments and looked longingly at my phone for a moment, before doing the factory reset. With that done, I duct-taped it to the underside of a large truck. Anyone looking to find me by my phone would have fun tracking this guy down, his license plate was from three states away - assuming the battery lasted.
I walked through town, keeping my the hood of my jacket up and my head low. With luck, news of what was happening wouldn't have spread too much yet. I knew eventually someone would find the video of me withdrawing money from the ATM, and could probably trace me through security cameras to whatever general location I was headed, but that would take time.
Next stop would be a second-hand store. In and out with a few sets of clothes and a new jacket. The bag was generic enough I wasn't terribly worried about it being recognized, it was a huge hit on Amazon for a reason, after all, and I had enough weight in there I wasn't about to trade it out for something less durable.
I spent the night in an abandoned building, huddled up against one of the interior walls, lightly dozing and jumping at every sound. It was a cold, miserable time, but I had enough emergency food in my bag to make it though without exposing myself to the outside world.
That was my existence for the next three days, before my food and water ran out.
Finally, on the fourth day, starved of company and desperate for some kind of distraction, I emerged from the crumbling house at dawn and shuffled down to a 7/11, trying for all I was worth to look like a homeless man. On the walk there I took one of the $20s from the ATM And smashed it up continuously, then stuffed the abused bill in my front pocket. I bought a breakfast burrito, a cup of coffee, and a newspaper, and shambled back to my hobo-hole to read the latest happenings in the world. The news of "The Hunt" was still on the front page, and the address of the billionaire was still in print. Perfect.
I changed clothes to my first set of spares, then began the 20 mile walk to the train station. Thankfully I could still buy a ticket with cash there. | 2019-10-17T19:13:45 | 2019-10-17T19:11:02 | 193 | 56 |
[WP] A billionaire hands you a unique and intricate coin. "In an hour," he says, "I will tell the world what I have given you. In a week, I will leave my inheritance to whoever returns it to me. I will not accept it before then." | Clay looked at the coin in his hand and promptly gave it back to the billionaire. His girlfriend, Sally, smiled.
"I told you I will not accept it before a week has passed."
Clay shrugged. "Yeah, but I know your game, sir, and I'm not playing it."
"You will forgo your chance at billions of dollars worth of assets and money?" asked the billionaire. He waved his hand around their tiny house and meager possessions, all of whom were worth less than even the shoes that the billionaire wore.
"We may be poor, but we're self-sufficient and stable. That coin will make enemies out of friends. Take it and give it to someone else who wants it." Replied Sally. Clay wrapped his arms around her, and she held him tight.
The billionaire regarded them with a careful eye before a chuckle escaped his lips.
"Are you happy with where you are now?" He asked them.
"We only know that we're happier than you."
"Haha!" laughed the billionaire. "Wise words! I have grown disillusioned and dissatisfied with my riches and fame. It's become too tiring for me to maintain it, and both my body and spirit long for a quieter life.
"Truthfully, I never intended to give out my inheritance like this. I know the nature of human greed, and I have become disgusted with my peers over how much wealth they covet even though they own half the world already."
The billionaire handed them back the coin.
"I will not give you my inheritance," he said. "I know the nature of change as well, and I do not want to see you change your simple ways." Clay and Sally smiled at his words.
"That's fine." They replied.
"But I have seen the humility in your hearts, and I want you to help me extend that humility to others, so I will only give you half of it, on the condition that you use my wealth fairly. Keep the coin with you, so you will always remember what I told you today." | He sneers as he flips it towards me; the coin flutters like a bronze butterfly through the air. "Please don't think this is personal. I just wanted all my blood money to go to someone who will be as ruthless as I am. Matter of principle, you see."
"That won't be a problem at all," I say. The warm smile I give him seems to catch him unawares. I can see what he wants from this endeavor – I am the fuse to a chain of explosions he wants to see light up his night sky. But the Chinese have a saying about fire – if you do not like fire, you should not tickle dragons.
"I'm curious. How do you intend to escape unscathed at the end of the week?"
"Right there is where your mind fails you, Mr. Saladin. You believe that the world will murder me for what I do not yet have, which may well be true. But why target the heir when you can slaughter the king? Why kill for something in the future when you can have it today? You failed the moment you overlooked the present."
Cold sweat begins to drip down the side of his face. "And how exactly do you intend to pull off such a foolish stunt?"
"You say 100% to the winner at the end of the week. Imagine someone kills me for the coin on the first day. In this scenario, they have to be wiser than me for six excruciating, agonizing days. Each owner of the coin is more at peril than the last. My offer, will bypass all of this. 50% to the person who kills the billionaire by the end of the day."
The billionaire almost launches of his chair, pale and green. "You insolent little sewer rat! I admit I did not take this into consideration. But you being the loose-tongued fool you are, told me every hole in my plan. I think I'll change my mind. No word of this offer will ever see the light of day, because it will never leave this room." He smiles weakly. "And you... You can rot in the slum I picked you up from this morning."
A soft click shatters the silence that follows his threat. His eyes widen in astonishment. "It is not a gun, I assure you," I tell him. "Although it is something far worse – a voice recorder. That's what your problem has always been, Mr. Saladin. Your eyes are so fixed on the future that you are blind to the present. Now your own words will be the beginning of your death sentence. I'm guessing you must have already initiated the processes required to pass on your inheritance to the owner of the coin in seven days? How will you undo the work of a week in a day? And with your terminal illness, all you wished for was to get rid of all your black and blood money in exchange for a peaceful few days before you die. I intend to take that away from you, just as you had envisioned you would take my peace away from me. For once, I will teach you what it is like to survive the onslaught of fate; I will give you one day that will be more catastrophic than the rest of the horrors in your life have been, combined." I hold up the bronze coin to him. It glints with a dull lustre under the fluorescent lights. "Where I come from, one coin is often the difference between life and death. But a rich man like you wouldn't know that, would you Mr. Saladin? Now run and hide as fast as you can. Only if a sewer rat could teach you something about that, Mr. Saladin."
------------------------
Thanks for reading! If you liked this, please consider trading through my work at r/whiteshadowthebook. Thank you again :) | 2019-10-17T19:36:18 | 2019-10-17T19:35:58 | 28 | 18 |
[WP] You are at dinner when a stranger sits down in the booth and asks you, "Have you found the 3rd number?" You have been having a dream about cracking a safe and have only been able to discover the numbers 14 and 17 before you wake up. They place a picture of your dream safe on the table. | I don't know why my dreams have ended in front of a safe with some electronic safe cracking tool installed on it. The safe is always the same thing, but in different places. The dreams leading up to my need to open a safe I don't know the combination to are always different. I always manage to use the electronic stethoscope to find the first two numbers, 14, then 17, then, in trying to find the last number, I wake up.
After weeks of this dream, I went to dinner after a long day at work as I sat in the booth by myself, I was looking over the menu wondering what I would be eating, when a man I've never met slid into the seat across from me. He looked nervous, or perhaps excited. In his hand was an envelope, after looking around, he pulled a picture from the envelope showing the safe, with the cracking tool attached that I have been dreaming about for weeks.
"Have you found the 3rd number?" It was a hoarse whisper, meant for my ears only.
"I'm not sure what you are talking about." I hadn't told anyone about this recurring dream if someone knew, I wasn't going to just blab. There was more here than meets the eye.
"The safe, the combination. We've found the first two, we can't find the 3rd number of the combination. We hoped that coming to see you would help." He slid the photograph across the table for me to see closer. I knew that image. Heck, the dial was sitting on 17, the second 'click' the device found.
"Where was this taken? Perhaps I just need to see it."
"You don't know?"
"I have no idea. Heck, I have no idea why you are talking to me, showing me this picture either. I've never met you, or seen this before." I turned the picture around to study it, then pushed it back to him.
"Maybe our meeting will help move it along. I will be seeing you later." With that, he got up and left.
The waitress came by, "Your friend not staying?"
"He's not my friend, I've never met him before." I shrugged. I ordered my usual meal and went home. That night, before bed, I drank a couple of glasses of red wine, I feared what my dream would bring, knowing that somehow I've manifested, or contacted the dream world.
"Let's see what happens now..." and I drifted off to sleep.
(There will be more, but I wanted to add something to flesh out the Prompt.) | Who the hell are you? and get out of my booth.
Have you found the third number yet?
What? You need to leave before I scream for help.
The stranger left my booth, but also left behind a picture of the safe in my dreams.
How can that be? How did my dream come to be in a picture?
That night, I was determined to open the safe if I dreamed of it again, and I did.
Right 3 turns to 14.
Left 2 turns to 17.
Right to
Bleep Bleep Bleep .. omg time for work..
As I get up and stagger to the shower I see a glimpse of someone outside my window, I hurry over and I think it might be that weird-o from the restaurant.
As I drive to work I notice numbers on houses 1417, 14th and 17th street intersect.
I arrive at work and clock in 14 minutes late.
I must be loosing my mind, it's just a stupid dream.
Next bug for me to fix is 1417 ! Damn, this is crazy, its work, they pay me. Focus.
I begin reproducing the problem to find the solution.
The problem is in the decryption routine, when a pattern is passed in that contains 1417 it doesn't decode the password properly.
All day I work through the algorithm step by step, manually decrypting the failed password string. I finally get to the bytes containing 1417. The algorithm should shift each byte left based on their decimal representation.
0306. Multiply the first 2 bytes by 2 yields 0606. Shift right 2 bytes. 0066.
Increment to the next word, oh! The next word is corrupted, its not numbers any more, it's the userid.
I work my way back up the call stack, and realize the userid was copied to the wrong location and had overlaid the last 4 bytes of the string.
I corrected the code, and tested once more.
1417, shifted, multiplied, 0066 increment.
Next word is now 0907, shifted to 0806. multiply 08 x 2 is 1602, shift is 0162.
Code fixed !
It is dark outside as I drive home.
Fixing problems is such a rush when you work so hard, but finally find the solution.
Stop for food on my way home, Mediterranean food sounds good.
As I sit waiting for my greek salad and gyro the stranger is sitting at my table again.
Before I can ask where the picture of the safe came from he says.
Thank you. You will leave tonight. And then he walks away without a word.
I eat (famished, I missed lunch working on the bug!) but I worry this crazy person may be stalking me. He was outside my window this morning, I am sure of it.
When I arrive home I lock the doors and windows.
I get my phone set to dial the police with just a press of the button.
Nothing happens, no one is stalking my windows, but I fear to sleep.
I stay awake as long as I can, but finally I cannot hold my eyes open.
Immediately I am at the safe in my dream.
Right 3 turns to 14.
Left 2 turns to 17.
l'm still here, I didn't wake up!
Hmm, maybe like my work, Right to 09.
Still locked.
I didn't wake up, in fact I can't wake up.
All night I try different numbers, I think there is only 200 numbers just try them all.
The night drags on as I turn Right, Left, 1.
Damn locked.
Right, Left, 2..47
Locked.
I start to panic, I cannot wake up, and I cannot open this Damn safe !
Perhaps the corrupted number is after the algorithm.
I skip to 162. Right, Left, 162, and it clicks!
I turn the handle and open the safe to a bright white light.
I blink as I find I am in a hospital room, my dad is standing by my bed facing the door.
I call out, dad, in a raspy voice, but my mouth doesn't work right.
"DAD" I try harder.
He quickly turns around with a smile on his face... the same face as the stranger !
edit (ugly formatting sorry) | 2019-11-24T10:05:19 | 2019-11-24T05:54:39 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] Right when you become 18, you have to get a familiar. Even when you reached that age, you didn't get one, so you've been expecting none. So it's a bit of a surprise when Cthulhu suddenly appears and claims that you're their familiar.
[ Removed by reddit in response to a copyright notice. ] | In a fitful sleep, dreaming of colours and shapes beyond knowing. Here I lie, in a vault of green.
Here I have been for immeasurable eons, though time is of no consequence to me.
But in strange eons, well... something unexpected might even happen to a Great Old One.
In the oppressive silence of the vault, without even an echo, the faintest click of a lock pieces my dreams.
And for the first time in countless millennia, I open an eye.
There is a Call.
It is faint, but I feel it nonetheless.
I rise, up and out of the vault, up through the bowels of the city. I find myself standing, looking out over the ocean.
It is far, but the Call is getting stronger.
I sink beneath the waves, and propel myself alone the ocean floor.
The Call reaches its peak, and starts to fade. I must go faster.
I soon reach the edges of a strange land, they were not in this configuration when I fell asleep.
Unconcerned, I dive into the earth itself. Pushing deep underground.
The Call is almost gone, I feel its moments flicker.
There! Above!
I reach up, and a hand erupts from the ground.
Pull myself up I look down at the tiny being who made the Call.
"You are Coel."
***
Thank you for reading. I thought I would tell my side of the story. (and thanks to u/ecstaticandinsatiate for the inspiration) | There were conscientious objectors, lazy idiots, the devout children of various cults and entire families of anti-maggers, all arrayed on steel bleachers which had been painstakingly disassembled and moved up to the roof of the school from the football field below. A tall, pale man in a cheap suit stood before them on a small dais.
"If we can all settle down, we can get this done quickly. You are all students in my school system, or family members of one or more of those students. You students are all going to be turning 19 in the next few months, and have not yet summoned a familiar for yourselves. You all have your reasons, and I do not care what they are. You have all been told the consequences of failing to perform the ritual in time, and that has clearly not impressed you. Perhaps you think that summary execution is a bluff. Perhaps you think it such an outrage that no civilized society would tolerate it. You are all here to see just why society tolerates it, and why we are not bluffing."
The pale man checked his watch, and stepped down from the little platform, taking the microphone with him. In the sky over the quaint little town, the sun reached its zenith and the sky cracked open with a scream. Objections died in a dozen parents' throats as the vertical gash first lengthened, then sagged open, pulsing and rippling like something alive. Scandalized matrons reached to cover their children's' eyes as the gash first bulged and then erupted in a spray of red and pink and pearlescent white that painted the street below in all the colors of birth, the wet splatters providing a counterpoint to the retching of the witnesses.
A gleaming stallion emerged from the mess, the color of fresh-dug chalk. A young man sat astride him, in a robe so black that it seemed to not be real. He pointed at the town and the stallion responded, obsidian hooves kicking up scarlet sparks in the empty air as he charged. The sparks landed on nothing and ignited, growing in moments to become creatures of nightmare, each one a unique vision of eager, laughing torment.
The stallion leveled off, barely a dozen feet above the ground, and the rider held out a hand, his thin fingers curling around the red shaft of an old scythe as it settled into existence. He swung it once, and everything died. A crescent of brown and black and ash and rubble spread from that one point in an instant.
The sudden brightness of normal sunlight replacing the grim red glow of a bleeding sky shocked the audience out of their slack-jawed horror, and the pale man raised the microphone once more. "He rides once a year. We know where, we know when. We can't stop him. Trying to evacuate the target area just makes it worse. The creature that calls him familiar claims a thousand souls each ride, sometimes ten thousand. We do not have more of these because a given person cannot both have a familiar and be one. We are not bluffing, and we will not let your staggering selfishness or willful ignorance doom the innocent. Summon your familiar, or die. I don't care which. Now get out of my sight." | 2020-02-06T13:05:04 | 2020-02-06T09:13:35 | 143 | 36 |
[WP] You've just been murdered by your wife. As an immortal you really couldn't be happier about this because you've been meaning to fake your death and start over for a while. Only problem is that your wife hasn't really planned this out too well...you may have to lend a hand. | Murdered, that's a rare one. Usually I have to elaborately fake a disappearance. A few times I've even been executed. Murder though, and by her.. that I didn't see coming.
Hindsight is 20-20 they say, it seems amusing to say that in 2020. Anyhow, I digress. Looking back at it now, it was getting close to my “time” the time where too much suspicion is garnered from the community at my lack of ageing. I tend to deal with this sensation differently each time. On this occasion I threw myself into work, preaching this and that at the Church, spending all other hours on the renovations and maintaining the grounds. Meanwhile my wife had been dealing with unemployment, fear and loneliness all at once, without me even lifting a finger. Quite how I became the representation of all that was wrong I fail to know, but everyone has their breaking point, I'm not even mad.
I do look quite handsome down there on the blood-stained grass. The blood certainly doesn't match my outfit, however the face looks quite dashing. That chiselled jaw, the short matt-black hair, I think I might keep that form when I come back.
I may be immortal, but it's more of an immortal soul shebang. My body is immune to ageing but it very well can die. When the vessel goes, I slip out of it like a snake shedding it's skin, with just about as much regard for the old skin. Except that in my case I emerge as pure energy, imperceptible by humans but very much there. Over time I attract more energy, more mass and this congeals into a new human body. Sometimes it's male, sometimes it's female, I like to mix things up. Once I was accidentally a chimpanzee in a zoo and to this day I still regard bananas with an irate fury.
Hmm.. doorbell. Wait.. she's going to answer it? Oh bloody idiot, I know you've just committed murder, I know you're not of sound mind, but you don't go letting in the delivery guy when you're covered in blood.
I had to think fast. Thankfully I'm not impeded by doors in this form, so I was at the door before her. Yet I have the disadvantage of not being visible to humans. Not, visible to humans, but ah, a little canine fury is just what we need. I swooshed around to the neighbours dog, which quickly started barking with such a ferocity that the walls shook. That dog never liked me in life, but now I'm an immortal ball of “what the fido” he went on overdrive. A little gust of wind, taking that lead off that hook, and I have myself a mobile anti delivery guy weapon.
Hahaha, who says you can't have a bit of fun as a ball of energy and gas? The delivery guy left so quickly that he dropped the parcel and almost broke the handbrake trying to speed off.
A few more days passed with similar calamities narrowly avoided. It turns out my wife is terrible at not getting caught. I may not be sad about leaving her, after all it was inevitable but I do still care about her well-being on some level, I still want her to flourish.
So when she had herself cleaned up, and the shallowest of graves for me in our garden, I decided I better help her out one final time. By now I had at least enough mass to manifest a couple of hands, so I set to work, removing my old body. Now no longer quite so handsome. The place I chose was an old cairn, It could have been an archaeological site because it was that old, but it was on our grounds and no one ever went near it. It seemed a quite fitting place. It took some work to remove the coverstone, and deposit myself inside and several hours passed before I was ready to seal the entrance and make my escape.
Except my wife stood outside, dumbfounded, along with two of her friends as I pushed the cover-stone back. By now I was fully solid, fully human again, fully the spitting image of the man she had murdered days ago.
“Feck, not again” I exclaimed out loud. They all dropped to their knees, and raised their hands, faces painted in astonishment. My wife had never been a religious woman, despite marrying a preacher, but in that moment she exclaimed “it's a miracle!”.
God damn this, not again. The last time this happened it spawned a religion that is still around to this day... one little reincarnation mishap and people are willing to doctor your life into some perfect path, to follow, instead of the shitshow it was.
Maybe I can still stop history repeating...
((Alright, the above is a complete mess of tenses, and chattery rambling, but I hope it's still enjoyable, but I'll leave it at that point I think)) | (Husband's POV)
My wife talks in her sleep, I never told her because if I did she'd get mad. Through her sleep talk I figured out a lot of things, mainly that she cheated on me, multiple times in fact. All the things I found out about her made me want to start life over, I didn't want to be with a person like her anymore.
About two years ago I made a life like mask which would later be my second identity, I planned to change my face to this when I eventually would 'commit suicide', of course I wouldn't really die, I'd just stop my body healing or slow it down enough for people to think I'm dead.
Anyway, I bought a house to stay in for a while after my death, so that way I would have something to start my new life with.
Due to me getting a second job to buy said house, I spent hours after my day job still out. My wife, that bastard, thought I was also cheating. Of course, in her twisted mind, cheaters deserve to die, but only if they're male and not the person she's cheating with (ie. Her lover, who I did a little snooping on, turns out he's cheating on his girlfriend as well).
My wife had planned to kill me, something I also found out about via her talking in her sleep. Due to a bit of research and lying awake at night to hear her dream plans, I was ready to prepare for the exact day I would be killed, know how I'd be killed and when I was due to make my great escape.
Yesterday I sent almost all my money to my false identity, or currently false as I would later become that person. My wife is yet to find out about it, I can already see the look she'll get on her face when she finds out she won't get any will money.
Today, before coming to the dining room for dinner, the would be place of my 'death' I decided to check the camera to see exactly where my wife hid the murder weapon, which she'd pull out at the right time to kill me. A revolver, I'd have a quick fake death at least. Then I went down to dinner...
(Wife's POV)
He came down to dinner looking very happy, that cheating snob is going to regret ever cheating on me. I'll just have to pull out the gun at the right time and shoot him straight in the face, then when the dispatcher I've hired comes, I'll be finally free to be with Jeremy, and I'll get this lovely house as well.
When he sat down on the dinner table I was behind him, he thought I'd pour myself a glass of wine like usual but instead I pulled the gun out of the bread bin to shoot him.
he had started to eat, without waiting for me, that fuckwit.. With trembling hands I shot him, I was a bit scared he'd find out and somehow stop me, unfortunately I was my own undoing. I had shot him but it wasn't fatal, curses... He turned around and looked at me, he had a smile on his face, like he was somehow going to triumph over me. "You really need to get better at this Sandra, otherwise when your new lover cheats on you, you wouldn't be able to kill him and it will be your eventual demise", "YOU COULDN'T POSSIBLY KNOW THAT YOU PIG", I yelled. I shot him twice more, just to make sure he'd die, one in the mouth, to destroy that smile of his, and once in the forehead, to make sure he wouldn't move ever again. It was a pretty messy murder..
(Husband's POV)
It's a bit ironic how, when it was my time to die, I had never felt more ALIVE. I pretended to die, stopped my heart rate, held my breath and stopped my healing. Then when the dispatcher, who without my wife's knowing I put into my employ, arrives, he'll just take me to my new house.
It turns out that my wife botched my murder completely. Instead of calling the professional she was supposed to, she got scared and called her lover, that idiot Jeremy. It is an important not to make, JEREMY CANNOT DISPOSE OF A DEAD BODY PROPERLY.
He came with his car and dragged my body into it. First rule of dispatching kids, make sure the body is covered so you don't get DNA on your vehicle.
At least he had enough brains to bring the car in the garage so people walking by wouldn't see a corpse being dragged into a car.
My wife Sandra stayed in the house to clean up the mess she had made while killing me, Jeremy, the nervous wreck he was, didn't drive to a river or to a lake to dump my carcass, I heard him talking to himself in the car, he was gonna try to bury me behind his house, in his backyard.
As he went back inside the house to wash his hands I quickly healed my body and dug myself out of the dirt, I planned to kill him, so that way I can make sure to ruin my wife's life, just as a bit of petty revenge. I hid next to the door, it was dark enough for him to not know a person was there. Next, I made a sound so he would come back into the yard. If you're curious about the reason I wanted him to come back, I wanted to see the terrified look on his face when he realizes the dead man dug himself out.
He came out to the yard and just as I had planned, the first thing he noticed was a hole where my gravesite used to be. I went up behind him. "Boo". He was so scared he shit himself, and then I knocked him out and buried him six feet under, in the hole he had dug out for me.
My new life began at that moment.
[The next day]
I found out that my wife got arrested on first degree murder charges (a little birdy sent live streamed videos to the cops. It was me if you haven't guessed). Anyway, my wife has about 27 years in prison now, which I'm more than happy about. Before heading to work I decided to permanently transform my face into the one on the mask I had made. I went in front of the mirror and with a knife slashed my face just right so that when I healed, I'd look like my alternate and new identity.
Later that day I went out to dinner with a coworker from my second job (and from now on, only job). She was a pretty lass, one who I sensed was immortal like me. Time flied and in a few years we got married.
And that, young ones, is how I met your mother! | 2020-06-07T03:50:15 | 2020-06-07T03:38:53 | 53 | 18 |
[WP] "I have helped you with your endeavor, now I claim your soul" the demon says. "Thank you but no. I don't know how it works in hell but here on earth, a contract signed by a minor is not legally binding. I'm 17 and keeping my soul" you respond. | The teen had a smug smile on his face. He was so proud to exploit this loophole. So sure that he had use a demon’s power for free.
The demon, still in the protection circle, pinch where was suppose to be the bridge of a nose. It was not the first time some teen tried to pull this phrase to not pay him. He locked eyes with the teen. A fake smile on his face.
« Do you really think we are that stupid ?
- What ?
- You do remember that you went to hell to sign the contract right ?
- Well yeah but...
- And when you go to a foreign land or country, you are bound to the law of said country right ?
- I... I guess so... »
The teen’s eyes widened as the demon lean close to the edges of the circle.
« As you can read on the paragraph 47.4.2 of our contract, he said softly as the contract appeared, signing a contract in Hell with a demon bound you to the Hell law. And if we look on the Devilish Civil Code, on article 276.34.2 the legal age of majority is 10 years old for all beings. »
The teen was frozen. But the demon shrugged and keep going.
« This was put in place hundreds of years ago by our King for all beings in Hell to be able to put everyone at work on the day after their 10th birthday. This had to be done because God is not so keen on child labour, not that humains care about that, but us demons, we like stricts rules. At 10 and a day, you are considered an adult. So any labour or contracts are valid. »
The Devilish Civil Code materialized on the table just next to the teen, at the exact page needed. The teen was gasping like a fish out of water. His eyes ready to bulge out. This did not startled the demon.
« I even took care to mention it in my contracts, as previously told. Did you read it all ? It’s not written so tiny by the way. Well I know a 87 pages contract can be a hassle, but that’s how it works. You signed it. This mean I can assume you read it completely and understand what is written on it. »
A evil grind replace the fake smile on the demon’s face. The teen found enough courage to move a bit back and grab a crucifix.
« I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Attacking a demon that has done nothing to you and is just collecting payment is bad for you reputation among us.
The thing is, you did not read the contract and made a mistake. I’ve been good to you and did your requests. In no way I breach the contract. »
The teen started to pray. Muttering rapidly every psaume he could remember. The demon sighed.
« Fine, you’ll be a difficult one. You know what ? I kinda like your request and took pleasure in the chaos I had to make for you. Just know that there are no loopholes in our code. After all, we have so many lawyers down there for so long, that we packed everything really tight. »
The teen stop muttering. Getting paler by the seconds.
« Anyway, I don’t have all day, and it’s not like I can forcefully take your soul right now. You protection circle is really good. I would love to say ‘be careful next time’ but there will be no next time. Your soul is mine. Now and forever. And I have more than all the time in the world to wait for it. No demon will ever come to make a pact with you. And God cannot do anything for you. So eh.... see you when you die ? »
The demon started to fade away as his smile was wide, real and terrifying. The teen was more than shocked that is plan fell flat and that his soul was lost.
This is why the demon love making contracts with teens. They think they are untouchable. And he enjoy the taste of their fear when they discover they screwed up with one of the most wicked lawyer of Hell. | The demon stared blankly at me, as if seeing right through me. I smiled, to myself of course. No good comes from smiling in front of a demon. They imagine themselves the smiling ones, tricking humans left and right out of their souls. When I found the demon, lost and about in the alleyway, I knew what was to be done. Popular culture warned me well. My father warned me even better.
"Cut the angel dust," it said, infuriated. "What do you mean by 'our contract is not legally binding'? Are you stupid?"
I scoffed. The demon mocked my intelligence—my intelligence! I wagged my finger and smiled smugly. "Our contract is not legally binding. What else is there to it? Are you sure there's a brain in that hot head of yours?"
The demon twitched angrily. Steam poured out of his ears like a locomotive. The room warmed unnaturally, to the point uncomfortable idle sweating. I held my ground.
"Look, kid." The demon ground his teeth, but forced a smile anyway. "I have helped you with your endeavor. Now, I claim your soul. Be a good little mortal and get in the ritual circle and give me your soul."
I raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Thank you, but no. I don't know how it works in hell, but here on earth, a contract signed by a minor is not legally binding. I'm seventeen and I'm keeping my soul. Also screw you."
The demon heaved a heavy, violent breath in an attempt to cool himself down. It failed.
"Why," it said slowly, enunciating every syllable to make itself absolutely clear, "do you think I care about your stupid earthly laws?"
I took great offense to his words. I gasped extra loud and obnoxiously to show my indignation. "Demon thing, if you dare say you don't respect my world's laws, then I have no care for your contract. I'm leaving." I turned and walked away like the victor I was.
"Hey, hey! Stop! Don't leave!" It pleaded. "I can't go home empty handed like this. I completed my part of the bargain, so do me a favor and complete yours as well." It pounded its fists as if striking upon a great idea. "Oh, I know! If you leave, you'll technically be swindling me! Last I checked, that's not legal or ethical either?"
"Shut up. I don't want to hear about ethics from a demon," I spat, trying to cover up my nervousness because he was indeed precisely correct.
The demon dropped its forced smile and rose. The room shook. It vibrated every which way, as if foreshadowing an intense danger. The demon rose from its position, flared up fire from hell, and inflated to twice its size. It hung imposingly over me.
"If I can't get your soul the right way, I'll have to take it by force!"
It lunged at me the way only a demon could. I was unshaken. In my right hand was a cell phone, already dialed. It's screen portrayed an ongoing call. It hit but seven seconds in before another rumble shook the room. It was greater yet delicate. The demon stopped.
Another figure superimposed itself between the demon and I. It was a transparent figure, clouded in white, dressed in a fresh-pressed suit with a trinity knot tie. It spelled heavenly business. I smirked once more.
"... Who is this?" The demon spelled in confusion.
"This..." I said, "Well, I'll let it introduce itself."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance," it said. "I'm a persecutor from the heavenly realm. How do you do?"
"Oh. Thank you for asking. I feel like hell-WAIT! Stop right there. Kid, what in the underworld is this? How did you get ahold of a celestial attorney?
I pulled out a packet. "It was on the manual you gave me. See, it's right here." I outlined the specific block of text which pertained to our current matters. "'*Thou mayest hire a celestial attorney if needed. Call the number at (123) 456-7890 (message and data rates may apply).'"*
The demon clicked its tongue. "I knew we should've made the text smaller. Or added more old English. Or used Latin entirely..."
"You could've just ripped the page out, or not hand me the manual point-blank," I added.
"Don't be silly," the demon chuckled. "That's illegal!"
I stood there disappointed. My angel attorney coughed to interrupt the awkward silence and intercede.
"Demon Lord Zeraxos," the attorney boomed. "I hereby denounce you for crimes against a minor, and minor intimidation."
I dropped into a cold sweat. *Wait a second*, I thought. *This is a Demon Lord?*
I smiled awkwardly. "Hey, maybe this wasn't such a good idea-"
"Fine!" Demon Lord Zeraxos said, laughing wildly and hysterically. "You think I will be shamed by a stupid mortal, huh?" It pointed towards me. "When I win this," it said ominously, "I will be taking more than just your soul."
"Right! See you in court!" My attorney said. *They didn't give me a chance to say a thing! What the hell! I mean what the heaven!*
I scratched my head nervously. My confidence left me like the light that passed through my transparent partner-in-crime. The trial takes place in four weeks. We have four weeks to prepare.
"So," I said. "What's the plan?"
It pat my head like a father would a proud son's. I brushed his hand away. It smiled reassuringly.
"This is the perfect time," it said, "to think of one!"
"Cut the angel dust!" I yelled, falling into what the demons affectionately called despair. | 2020-07-04T11:17:45 | 2020-07-04T10:37:15 | 135 | 58 |
[WP] the Dark Lord had killed almost everyone, even the Hero. The final party member stood in the chamber alone. “I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?”. The final party member laughed maniacally with a devilish grin! “There's No One Here To Stop Me Now!!” | Looking around the chamber, the Dark Lord had a twisted smile, until he noticed someone hunched over right at the back.
The small man was shaking.
It was not difficult to understand why. He must be terrified of the Dark Lord.
"I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?" the Dark Lord asked.
The man was still shaking. He did not give a reply.
The Dark Lord continued, "I am a giving man, so I will give you the last chance to leave while you still can."
He did not leave.
"Are you so terrified that you can't move?" the Dark Lord sneered.
The small man finally stood up.
He was not shaking in fear.
No.
He was laughing.
He was laughing maniacally with a devilish grin!
"There's no one here to stop me now!"
The Dark Lord laughed, "have you gone crazy from seeing your friends dead? Or because you are scared of me?"
The man was still laughing while walking towards the Dark Lord.
The Dark Lord was getting irritated by him, so he ordered, "stop laughing."
The man ignored him.
He just kept walking forward.
"I am the Dark Lord, and I order you to stop laughing immediately!"
"Do you know who I am?" the man spoke. It was so soft, but the Dark Lord could still hear it. In fact, he did not seem to have moved his mouth at all.
It was then that the Dark Lord realized. He heard the man's words in his mind.
"Have you heard of the Demon Supreme?"
The Dark Lord froze.
"The Demon Supreme is only a myth."
"Really? Have you heard of anyone else being able to speak to your mind directly?"
"Why would the Demon Supreme be with... them?" The Dark Lord spit out his last word with contempt.
"I have lived my life for so many centuries... it was boring. There are only so many new ways I can think of to torture and kill someone, you know? I coincidentally met Heronas one day and I got to know of the prophecy of him as the Hero, and you... you think you can overtake me as the Lord in this world?" The Demon Supreme grinned, "they had taken something of mine, which is why I thank you for killing them."
For the first time in a long while, the Dark Lord felt terror.
"Because with them dead... my power is back."
The small man grew in size.
"Now, I can drain you until you are left with nothing but an empty shell." | "DO you really feel you are in-charge here?" the Last member said, but with a very deep and menacing voice. The Dark Lord had lost all this words. The dead bodies of the last group of Resistance lay piled across the room, and this Member was the last of survivors. "Have you never wondered, that in the last five years, and after countless attacks on the Resistance, each time you completely wiped out the entire party, I was the only one who would return with new members of the Resistance. Or were you so blind and soaked in your power, that you never sensed that there was something greater and more powerful than you, that lurked right under you nose. Oh! I forgot, you can't do that as of now. You haven't unlocked that power yet.
The small figure of the Last member that stood near the Dark Lord suddenly started changing shape and soon he was on the eye to eye level of he Dark Lord. And before the Dark Lord could whip out his wand to cast a spell, the Last member caught his hand with one of his hand, and the other hand he casually put over the shoulder of the Dark Lord.
"You call yourself a Dark Lord! Boy, you have just scratched the surface of what real magic can do. And I spit on the legacy you have created. In my words, you have been just lucky to have survived all this time."
The Dark Lord felt powerless for the first time. He couldn't move his hand, and the other hand of the Last Member had this very soft, yet dominating grip over his neck that he couldn't risk shaking away.
"The Hero was a distraction," the Last Member continued. "I am sure you might have sensed that. He was nothing more than a pawn who was forced to believe he could be the king. All the powers that he enjoyed, he thought he was gifted. But it was just my mere mercy that I allowed him to use a little bit of my power. Alas what better way to make a man believe that he was the chosen one than give him something which others lack. You creatures are so naïve and foolish. " There was a slight smile on the face of the Last Member.
"There's no one to stop me NOW," the Last Member said in a very menacing voice and as his grip tightened over the neck of the Dark Lord, the Dark Lord gave his final fight. The Dark Lord sensed a moment of weakness as the Last Member started reciting his grand plan, and with a flick he freed his wand hand from the grip of the Member and casted a spell that separated the two. He was the Dark Lord, the conqueror of this word, and he wouldn't let a psycho-maniac make him feel any less powerful.
"I though I killed all your kind?" Dark Lord screamed from the distance.
"You think you really can! We are your ancestors; we are the pure wizards. We are the ones you use to channel your power. We gave birth to your kind. And you think you can kill the source?" the Member screamed back. The two large figures jumped at each others, with Dark Lord holding his wand. The Member didn't need any medium to channel his power.
For the followers of the Dark Lord that were standing outside, the only thing that was visible were bright light of spells and curses that was emanating from inside the room. The battle didn't last for more than a minute. The bright light had suddenly vanished and their was an eerie silence. Then from the dense smog they could see the large figure of the Dark Lord walk out. As they moved closer to the approaching figure, the reality of the fight dawned over them. It was not the Dark Lord, it was the Member who emerged through the smoke. His figure was larger than the Dark Lord and his face had this twisted expression of gloat and disgust.
A few followers quickly sat on their knees without a word or doubt.
"I give you the same choice your Dark Lord gave me. Join me or suffer his fate," the new Dark Lord said in a deep voice. The rest of the crowd started bending their knees.
At the back of the huge crowd, two followers quickly ran to the other side of the open area, careful the new Dark Lord didn't see them.
"He cant be dead!" said one follower.
"We have to find his body. He made sure no one would be able to kill him. We have to find him," said the other.
"He cant be dead." | 2020-07-11T03:37:24 | 2020-07-11T02:49:15 | 82 | 39 |
[WP] You just sent in your DNA to one of those ancestry sites. After eight weeks, you can’t figure out why your results have not shown up. Then, two men with dark suits show up at your front door. They have some news regarding your results. | “One second!” I shouted as i quickly put on a pair of shorts.
But the knocking on the door kept thundering louder and louder.
“Are you trying to break this thing down?” I said annoyed as I open the door.
I expected there to be a UPS delivery guy in front of me, delivering me back my DNA result from a few weeks past. But instead I am greeted with two figures wearing a suit, a pair of tinted glasses and an old school black hat. One would think they were gravedigger who had come to collect my body.
“Uhmmm, how could I help you?” I said to them while trying to seem friendly, even though it is hard due to the embarrassment caused to me by only wearing a pair of shorts with flowers on it.
“I am agent Robin.” Responded the taller of the two men. “This is my subordinate agent Mark. We are here to talk to you about your DNA result, Mr Frank”
“My-my DNA results?” I asked after swallowing my adam’s apple. “Oh, ye-yea … that thing I did a few weeks back.”
“Well, will you invite us in” He asked as he gestured with his hand.
My brain stopped walking for a bit from the stress.
“Yea .. yea, of course, come in.” I said with a shaky voice as I opened the door more, so that they could come inside.
They both walked in in front of me, without a hint of shyness in their movement.
Agent Robin Mathew examined the surroundings with his hand behind back, as if he was a landlord checking up on a house he had been assigned to assess after the occupants had decided to move out the day after.
However, Agent Mark seemed to be a person who kept to himself and only followed the steps of agent Robin.
Either way, having two figured in full black clothing in my house didn’t put me at ease. | "That's ridiculous," Bea said. The mid-40s woman sat in her living room opposite two men in dark suits. She narrowed her green eyes at them. "You're actors. This has to be someone's prank; who is it?"
"Ms. Acosta, I assure you this is not a joke," the shorter man said. Over the years Bea learned to trust her instincts and they were always accurate. Something inside her told Bea these men weren't a danger; it was the only reason she let them in her house without getting their names. They flashed an official-looking I.D. that Bea didn't recognize; but, her instincts still let them in.
"Let's pretend I believe you; now what? Should I expect more agents crashing through my windows?" she asked with a chuckle. "Because it's going to take more than you two to bring me in." Both agents shook their heads; but, only the shorter one spoke. Bea realized the taller one hadn't said a word since she answered the door. Both were lean, fair-skinned, nondescript agents. Bea was glad they at least removed their sunglasses once inside.
"Now, nothing. You wanted to know about your ancestry; the only thing we can tell you is you won't find it here," the shorter one stood from the sofa with an eye on the door.
"So, you're just messengers?" Bea asked in surprise. "This whole act seems a bit much for something an e-mail could have done." The shorter one grinned at that.
"As it stands now, you don't believe us; would you believe an e-mail?" Bea nodded.
"Yeah, good point. So, how're you going to prove it to me?" she gave them a confident, 'gotcha' smile.
"We can't, exactly...," the short agent admitted. "You were raised here, all your memories are from here."
"I knew it," Bea said. Though, even as she claimed victory over the jokers, an instinctual doubt formed in the back of her mind.
"What we can do though, is this," the short one said. A pitch-black hole suddenly appeared above Bea's coffee table. It was almost as wide as the table and tall enough for a person, like the one that walked out of it.
"Bea looked up at a younger version of herself with vibrant blue hair instead of the salt and pepper brunette of her current color.
"Unfortunately, we can't prove to you that you're from an alternate Earth, but we can prove they exist. Say hi to one of yourselves," the short agent said. The tabletop version of Bea smiled, then turned around to look at the agents.
"Hey, handsome, I'm glad I get to see you again," she stepped off the table on their side. The taller agent stood and Bea couldn't help but notice a slight blush on his cheeks.
"Hi, Cee," he said, then nodded at Bea behind her. "Work stuff now, I'll call you later," he said. Cee shook her head with a smile.
"Please don't, just send me a text when you want to meet," she reached out and playfully patted his head. "You're fun, but god, you never shut up," she giggled.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year three, story #201. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order. | 2020-07-19T10:41:53 | 2020-07-19T08:52:51 | 145 | 37 |
[WP] Life on Earth evolved within an “FTL Dead Zone” a region of space where all known forms of FTL travel were deemed physically impossible. As such, it was quite a shock when an unknown species suddenly appeared from the Dead Zone one day calling themselves “Humanity” Having done the impossible... | FTL is so easy... For most. Whilst we all know that in the simplified model we can't travel faster than light, one can simply charge the local area with the 5th field and woosh, off we go. For Laymen, its similar to how light slows down when it moves through an medium. In some media it actually speeds up. We do the same thing, using the Anisotropic nuon displacement field to create false curvature in the space-time around us. This creates a bubble of spacetime that we take with us, and therefore we move the bubble faster than light, moving us through space faster than we normally ought to.
But the humans. Their entire galactic cluster is in a null point. The nuon field is unusually weak in the area, leaving the whole place... Thin.
And yet here I am. I am currently in the aft of my ship, looking out a window onto a human vessel. They have come from the heart of Cluster Axl.B3 and have send me friendly greetings.
I am recording these notes for posterity, and so that, should the worst happen, others know of what happened here today. It is *momentous!*
Let me summarise. I am Calhwoun of the Dwheh. I am normally sent to investigate areas for mining possibilties of rare materials. I was on my way to 900.884.Mmj.45h/innerdry when i picked up an unusual signal.
Strong, and i mean **strong** gravitational waves coming from an area between the 4 stars that make up the quadrangel with innerdry, by aletheal measurement. I will attach the exact coordinates later, when i have calculated them.
I came closer to investigate, as there were strong waves, but none of the normal gravitational effects associated with a black hole or other body strong enough to generate such waves.
Instead, i found this Human ship. Ofcourse i hailed them, not recognising it as having any known markings, but they failed to respond. As they have never had direct access to subspace they use arcaic radio based technology! I had to convert a scanner into something that would allow me to both recieve and send messages before we could talk!
After passing their language through the normal translation algorythms we had a talk.
They are humans. They are bipedal species that has an internal support structure, and oxegenates via two large bags they inflate within themselves. They use these to talk via the normal method of vibrating gasses.
It was thrilling. Whilst i would like to record all the facts i also want to record how thoroughly thrilling this whole experience has been for me! My normal day is scanning soil samples, not being an alien species first contact!
We spoke at length, i told them of the current situation with our home sector and a little about how we normally interact with other species. They seemed pleased we sounded friendly, and would like direct contact with the sector authority so that more formal greetings can be made.
However. I must touch on the troubling matter. Whilst I am thrilled to have met them, it is not the fact they escaped Axl.b3, but the manner in which they escaped it that is troubling.
Whilst we use the Nuon field to create just enough of a bubble that we can move at FTL velocities. They have skipped this entirely. They have devised a method for bending space and time, based on gravity alone. Whilst this sounds... Dubious, impossible, I mean how could one generate such a gravitational effect strong enough, let alone without crushing the ship! But as i said. I stare at them now, through the aft window of my ship.
Whilst i am no physicist, minerology is my trade, i understand the implications of what the humans have told me. Whilst we skip along the surface of space at speeds no normal being should be able to go.... They punch a hole through reality. They force two points of space, that is **any** two points in space, to touch. Therefore transferring themselves anywhere in the time it takes me to spool my engines for FTL.
This changes everything. If we are able to aquire this technology our trade routes stop being days or weeks or months and become seconds, with none of the usual time dialation implications.
However, i also see the possibility for weapons. Was not the earlier hyperdrive first used for war? The pre FTL drive used millenia ago, was involved in scorching the planet of the Mammern.
I could easily see this used for destruction.
So I record my thoughts, here, and will be sending them out via subspace immediatly there after. The humans will be leaving to return to their 'earth' soon, and i am hoping to see them go. I worry about what the wake of such a large gravitational pulse will do to the local spacetime, but i will move a few thousand km out and watch from there.
The humans will try to return to this spot in 1 month. They claim their engine will need further repairs before a return journey.
Give my love to all those on the homeworlds.
MESSAGE ENDS
[EDIT: Message 2 is found in a reply to this] | As Kovak’s guard shift rolled into it’s final hour, he won both his third hand of cards and fifty credits off of Raka.
Somewhere in between Raka handing over the cash, a scowl slashed across her face, and Kovak lighting another smoke, the alarm started to sound.
“Fuck.” He jolted up, knocking the table and spilling drinks over the cards.
Raka jumped up too. She was faster on her feet—or maybe she just wasn’t as drunk as him—and reaches the monitor first. “A ship is incoming,” she said.
“So deny them landing—we don’t have anything scheduled to come until noon tomorrow.”
“No—it’s *incoming*. From the Dead Zone. The landing sequences has already started.”
Kovak swore. Up here in the Northern Guard, sandwiched between the edge of the Dead Zone and the planet Suter—which was scarcely more than an iced-over husk with a mercury mine—nothing ever came to their door step. A Northern Guard assignment was a punishment, reserved for the recruits who either barely passed the academy or the ones who needed some shit to knocked them down a few pegs before they got an semi respectable assignment.
While Raka fell firmly into the later category(she was the best marksman Kovak had ever seen, but she’d been an unbearable brat when she’d first arrived) Kovak knew he fell into the former. He wasn’t cut out to be a guard. He’d made his peace with that years ago. In all honesty, a northern posting was a blessing—it kept him out of the action. Four of his five years here had already passed without incident. One more and he’d be free to fuck off to somewhere warm and pleasant.
He hated action. He wasn’t cut out for that shit. “What should we do?” he asked Raka.
She shot him a sour look. “You’re the senior guard tonight.”
Kovak’s gut rolled with the alcohol as he crossed over to get a glimpse of the monitor. “Nothing was scheduled to land,” he muttered. “Just the new crew for the mines tomorrow.”
“Well something isn’t just coming—it’s already fucking here.”
Kovak pressed his palms to his face. “I dunno. Open a channel. Make contact.”
“Yes sir,” Raka grumbled and flipped the switches.
She cleared her throat and picked up the transmitter. “This is Northern Guard Suter-XA3 to unidentified craft. State your permit number and vessel name.”
Only static came through.
Kovak swore under his breath. He needed to sober up. He needed to do *something*. This wasn’t good.
Raka repeated her statement. “If you do not answer, we will be forced to take defensive measures.”
As rusty and unused as Kovak’s training was, it kicked in enough for him to sound the alarm. The rest of the Northern Guard would be woken from their sleep and ready to respond within minutes.
Through the communicator, only static sounded again.
Raka looked at him. “What’s the next move?”
The commander wasn’t here yet. Probably wouldn’t be for a while—she was as bad as the rest of them, drunk half the time and barely able to keep a schedule.
“I dunno.” Kovak frowned. “You warned them, you know.”
“Should I fire?” Raka’s eyes flicked over to the switch for the missiles. “We don’t know who they are. They won’t declare themselves. And it’s not like they’re sending a distress signal.”
Kovak wanted to protest. They didn’t know who this ship belonged too. The Dead Zone was supposed to be silent; every kid heard the legends of the grotesque and feral monsters that dwelled in that darkness. There had to be some truth to those stories. What would they be welcoming if they let them land?
“Declare your intentions or we will take defensive measures,” Raka warned again.
And, once more, there was no reply.
“We have to fire,” she said to him, her lips thin and expression harsh. “They pose a threat.”
“Maybe we should wait for the commander...”
“And let our post get overrun? No.” Raka stood and strode over to the missiles. “We need to do this.”
Kovak took a sharp breath. They needed two to fire the missiles. And if it was any other ship coming up on a guard post, they’d do the same. It was a universal rule to not fuck with the Guards. They were the line between order and chaos. Anyone who tempted them knew the consequences. “Alright,” he muttered.
Together, they turned the keys. Together, they fired the missiles.
Kovak watched on the radar. The missile would intercept the ship right as it docked.
The transmitter crinkled with static once more.
This time, though, something came through. “Hello,” a smooth and strange voice said. “We are humans. We come in peace in the name of exploration and—“
The transmission cut off.
Kovak swallowed, his throat dry. The missiles met their target.
Raka seemed nonplused as she crossed over to the table on the other side of the room. She swept up the cards, dumped the smokes and liquor and food into a bin, and wiped off the surface. They’d be in trouble if they knew they were gambling and impaired, despite the fact everyone else did the same. “Humans,” she said without meeting his eyes.
“I don’t remember them in the guidebook.”
“Neither do I,” Raka admitted.
Kovak took the trash bin and dumped the evidence of their mistakes in the incinerator. “What did we do?” His voice shook and his limbs felt as if they were lined with lead.
“I don’t know.”
“I think we fucked up.”
Raka looked at him, and, for the first time in the year she’d been there, he saw her as her age. A scared and stubborn kid, only just of age. Hell, he was only a few years older. Why had this come down to them?
There were times in life, Kovak mused, where one made a decision without knowing the real weight that choice held.
Other times, one made a choice in a moment and knew exactly what they were doing. They made a decision and knew, right then, that their life would never be the same.
This was one of those times. There’d be no going back after this. Yet Kovak asked the question all the same. “Should we run?”
Raka closed her eyes and nodded. “Yeah. I think we should.”
Kovak didn’t think—he only moved. He’d have to unpack it all once they were in the escape pod, once they were hurtling toward the icy husk of a world that was Suter.
---
r/liswrites | 2021-01-09T13:43:37 | 2021-01-09T11:40:48 | 227 | 149 |
[WP] After crying in your room for hours, suddenly you hear a voice under the bed. "Hey, you okay?" | “Hey, you okay?”
Amanda let out a shriek, bolting upright in bed, her hand flying to her chest as adrenaline flushed through her. Rapid footsteps echoed down the hall and her bedroom door opened. “What happened?” her mother asked.
“Kaley is under my *bed*,” she managed, looking over the side of her mattress with an expression of utter confusion. She watched as her eight-year-old sister pulled herself out with an army crawl and then Amanda let out a tired sigh. “What the *hell*?”
“I wanted to scare you.”
“Well mission fucking accomplished!” the sixteen-year-old snapped.
“Mandy, language,” her mother admonished.
“I didn’t want to scare you *now*!” Kaley exclaimed, pushing herself to her feet. “You came in and you were crying and you didn’t stop crying and it’s been *ages* and I’m starting to have to pee.” Amanda choked out a laugh. “Why are you crying so much?”
Amanda met her mother’s gaze and waved her off, prompting the woman to nod understandingly and shut the door behind her as she left. “Jeremy… He cheated on me.”
Kaley narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
“How should I know?” Amanda cried, throwing her hands in the air. She sniffled, sliding back along her quilt and propping up her pillow against her headboard to lean against it. Wiping her eyes, she grimaced, knowing that with her makeup running she looked like a dying racoon. “I thought he really liked me.”
Kaley slowly sat down on the edge of the mattress. “You really liked him, huh?” Amanda nodded. “What’d he do?”
“He…” Amanda let out a sigh. “You’re eight. Let’s just say he got just as far with another girl as he had with me.”
“You know I watch TV, right?” Kaley asked. Her sister smirked. “If he’s such a jerk that he cheated on you, why are you so sad? He’s a crappy guy and you shouldn’t be with him anyway.”
Amanda gazed at her sister for a long, pensive moment. “Because I thought maybe he didn’t think I was pretty enough, maybe. Or that I could’ve done something different to keep him around.”
“That’s stupid, you’re really pretty.”
“Thanks,” Amanda murmured.
“Plus, it’s not about being pretty, right? Not on the outside,” Kaley said. “Being a beautiful person isn’t about having a pretty face. That’s what you told me.”
Amanda smiled wryly. “Yeah. What can I do when you feed me my own words, huh? I guess…” She let out a long sigh. “I guess I just liked having a boyfriend. And I thought he liked me back. And so…I got sad that I lost that.”
Kaley nodded. The two lapsed into silence. “You think Mom will let us have pizza for dinner?”
Amanda chuckled. “You mean could I use my breakup to guilt her into letting us order pizza?”
Kaley shrugged. “Hey, may as well get something good out of being so sad.”
“Touché.” She nodded. “I’ll ask her.”
Kaley grinned. “Awesome. Okay, I’m gonna go, ’cause I really do have to pee.”
&#x200B;
/r/storiesbykaren | “You and John have been together for a while,” Sarah said. “Why don’t you tell me how you met?”
“Of course,” Emma replied. “It all started when I was crying alone in my room.”
Sarah and Emma were sitting at a cozy coffee shop. Sarah took a sip of her drink, then asked Emma a question.
“You were crying in your room? Gosh, that’s…well if you don’t mind, what were you crying about?”
“I was cutting onions,” Emma replied.
“Oh…Wait, you were cutting onions in your room?”
“I live in a studio apartment.”
“Oh.”
Sarah was expecting something more melodramatic than onions. Still, she wanted to know how Emma met John, so she continued to listen.
“While my eyes were tearing up and I was groaning in discomfort,” Emma said, “I heard a voice from under my bed ask if I was okay.”
“A voice!? Were you scared?” Sarah asked.
“Not really,” Emma replied. “I was the one holding the knife.”
“Oh.”
“So anyways,” Emma continued, “I asked who who was there and why were hiding. Slowly, a man slithered out from beneath my bed. I immediately thought that this man was absolutely gorgeous, and if it weren’t for the circumstances we were in, I would prefer him to be with me on top of my bed, rather than underneath it.”
“Aha!” Sarah exclaimed, “So that must’ve been when you met John!”
“No, that guy under my bed was a complete stranger,” Sarah replied.
“Oh.”
“And when he saw how red my eyes were, and the knife in my hands, he ran away.”
“Right.”
Sarah sighed. She desperately wanted to know how Emma and John met.
“So then, I decided to call the police,” Emma said, “And after a few minutes a policeman showed up at my door. My goodness, this man was incredibly attractive—I could see his rippling muscles through his uniform, and he had a stunning smile.”
Sarah responded, “So was that man John?”
“Nope. Just an ordinary policeman.”
“Oh. Hey, you keep describing these guys in detail: it’s like you’re telling a bad romance story!”
“Are you trying to say,” Emma asked, “That John and I are a bad romance story?”
“What?” Sarah replied, “Not at all! I just wanted you to get to the point already and tell me how you met John.”
“I can’t do that Sarah. Good stories are like onions in that they have many layers. Speaking of which, after describing the bed-man, the policeman left, and I continued cutting my onions.”
Sarah pursed her lips and took a deep breath. Who was the next guy that Emma was going to describe? Some guy flying outside her window?
“As I was cutting my onions,” Emma said, “I looked over and saw some guy flying outside my window.”
“You’re kidding,” Sarah replied.
“Yeah, I’m kidding,” Emma said. “It was just the window cleaning guy. I couldn’t see the platform he was standing on though, so it totally looked like he was flying outside my window.”
Sarah then asked, “Let me guess, this guy was attractively built? He had a radiant smile?”
“Not really,” Emma replied. “Though I guess his forearms were somewhat muscular from all that window wiping.”
Emma continued. “Anyways, this guy had something to say, so he called me over.”
“What did he say?” Sarah asked.
“He told me,” Emma said, “That the guy under my bed was just caught by the policeman.”
“The window guy was watching what happened in your apartment?”
“Well yeah, he was cleaning my windows. Anyways, I learned that his name was John and I kept seeing him for weeks after that incident.”
“Seeing him?’ Sarah asked. “As in, you started to date John?”
“Seeing him,” Emma replied, “As in, seeing him wash my windows.”
Sarah looked down at her drink. This whole time, she believed that Emma and John were dating—after all, what explains John being at her house? But alas, John was simply the window cleaning guy. Crossing her arms on the table, Sarah buried her head in them.
“Well, there was a time,” Emma said, “That I invited John over for dinner.”
Sarah lifted her head. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Emma continued. “I was cutting onions for some pasta, then saw John cleaning my window as usual. After nodding at each other, I got the bright idea to invite him over so he can try some of the pasta I was cooking. We were practically best friends at that point, so I figured it was fine.”
“Best friends? But he was just the window cleaning guy!” Sarah exclaimed.
Emma replied. “Yeah, he was the best friendly window cleaning guy. Anyways, he hastily accepted my invitation.”
“So then,” Sarah asked, “Why was he so eager to accept your invitation?”
Emma deliberated for a few moments. Was it because of their close familiarity? She and the window cleaning guy made eye contact once every two weeks or so, after all. After pondering the situation for a few moments, Emma reached a conclusion.
“Well, my eyes were red from all the onion cutting,” Emma said. “And I was the one holding the knife.” | 2021-03-16T08:54:46 | 2021-03-16T07:55:03 | 25 | 16 |
[WP] You're living in a world where superpowers exist, and you're the most dangerous individual of all. Your power? You project an aura where all the laws of reality/normality assert themselves. You are the anti-super | All I wanted to be was a normal man with a normal life. Live peacefully with my wife. But the gods… the gods just couldn’t leave us alone.
I looked towards the sky. Their home. Their city in the sky. And then I looked at my home. What was left of it anyways. The fire was dying down but my heart was already engulfed by the flames. There was only one way to put those out.
Elysian. It had to fall.
****
“You want to go where?” Rafa looked at me, his eyes widening.
“Elysian.”
“No chance. Us normal people don’t belong there.”
“How much?”
“No can do.”
“70,000 chells.”
I didn’t think it was possible for his eyes to go even wider but they did.
“I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll have your your payment in three days. Keep my passage ready.”
*****
I dragged the prone body into the offices of Jack Schuster.
His first instinct was to go for the gun. “Who’re you?”
“This man is a wanted criminal. I believe the bounty on his head is 150000 chells. Give me 75000 and he’s all yours.”
“Or I could shoot you and take him in myself.”
“He was a fire type.” I kicked the man lying on the ground. “He has been extinguished now. If you take that shot, I beg of you to make it. Cause if you miss, I will kill you.”
Jack lowered his weapon. “I’ll turn him in. The money will take some time to clear.”
“I’ll need it now.” I picked up his large brimmed hat from the table. “And the hat.”
******
We hovered in the air just over Elysian.
“This is as low as I can go. Anything lower and they’ll detect me. This is too much of a risk already.”
The small plane shook violently, fighting against the winds. “This will do.”
And I jumped.
*******
First there was nothing. Then the forces that be, created two flames. The flame of being. Creating life. Creating superheroes out of normal people. And there was the flame of unbeing. Destroying life. Taking humanity to its inevitable conclusion.
As the flame of being glowed brighter and brighter, superheroes became stronger with every generation. So strong that they came to look upon humans as insects to be played with. They ascended to heavens and used earth as their personal playground. They lost their way. The flame had given them the strength to protect life. But they were taking to away now.
Meanwhile the flame of unbeing slowly burned out. The cycle continued. When time came, it would burn bright again as the other flame dimmed. Destroying human life and getting our world ready for something new.
*******
I saw guards running towards me as my chute landed. I ran my hands over my guns and put on my hat, securely stashed inside my long coat for the flight.
“Hey you. Stop where you are. This is Elysian. Entry for normal folks is prohibited here.”
I stood looking down, ignoring him. I felt my pulse quicken as he entered my aura.
“Are you deaf? Answer me or I’ll…”
I raised my head and looked at him. The flame of unbeing burnt bright in my eyes.
******
The news of my arrival were spreading like wildfire in their heaven. I had a singular purpose however.
I could sense it. I knew where I needed to go.
Alex Strong stood at the gate.
“You’ve spread enough chaos. It’s time to take you down.”
“You can try.”
My guns were hungry. It had been a long time.
“I don’t know how you got the best of the other guys but I’m gonna break you in half. Whatever your superpower is, nothing can match my strength.”
He rushed at me. I ran towards him.
I went down to my knees, letting his momentum carry him past me but sending a crushing blow to his knees as he did.
He cried out, unable to move. I sat down next to him.
“This is for my wife.”
My bloodthirsty guns were finally sated.
I continued into the city’s brain.
The flame burned on. The flame of being. Powering the city and everyone in it.
As I moved towards it, my wife stood there.
“Honey. Come. Give me a hug.”
I kept moving. The flame knew my weak spot.
“Honey. Come to me.” I felt my resolve weaken. Even if she wasn’t real, my brain wouldn’t know it. It would believe. As long as the flame was close I’d believe…
I remember the flames again. My wife had been making my favourite dish that day.
I cry out and rush towards the flame.
“Honey! Stop. Look. Look at her. Our kid that couldn’t be. We would’ve named her Stacy.”
The seconds felt like years. My wife kept calling to me but I kept running.
“Honey. Stacy is dying. I need your help.”
I ran into the flame, relishing the burn. My aura enveloped it.
The city having lost its power source plunged downwards.
They had lost their way. They had to pay. They would all pay. | I spin the wheel of my steel and whatever vehicle. It’s a giant thing, can say for sure it’s made out of steel, but also a bunch of random crap as well. Stuff that didn’t exist on the periodic table before the Super Revolution. The government supplied it to me, so why should I know what it’s made out of? I quickly end my inner monologue about my tank, realizing that I have arrived at my job, I park between the bright yellow lines, making my vehicle screech to halt. It’s got some nice braking for such a big fella. Somebody comes up to me, asking for identification. I ignore that person, I’m the boss here, nobody should need to identify me at this point. Couldn’t care less about their safety, I’m am the walking embodiment of safety. Grumbling I walk through the sliding steel doors. I’m greeted by my assistants, Pam and Derek.
“Sir, it is not advisable for you to be walking without a protection Super near you, the risk of guns is simply too high,” Pam drones.
“I concur, Supers are not a threat, but guns are certainly a danger,” Derek mentions dryly.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever just get me to my office.”
They lead me to the back of the blindingly white room we’re in. Is there much of purpose to the giant room? Not really, but it was built just in case someone with a power that makes them giant comes in here. But it is a giant waste of my time, having takes way to long walking across the room. Halting my train of thought, I realize I am having them lead me. I storm in front of them, making them jump. I ain’t gonna have my assistants lead me, there my assistants for a reason. Soon I arrive at my office. The office door automatically opens for me, leading me to my familiar office. The one place in the building built entirely for me, that I could actually customize to my content. Naturally, scattered around the walls is some fishing memorabilia, some sports stuff, and personal stuff. I take a seat in my leather chair, practically melting into the seat. Rest, my favorite part of work.
“Go fetch me my first candidate,” I tell my assistants.
“Right away sir,” they reply, synchronization making me uncomfortable.
Making myself comfortable, I pull out my tablet out of my bag. Rubbing my hands excitedly, I turn it on. My favorite part of work, I mean it’s not really a proper job… it’s practically forced labor, freaking United Americas Federation. I pull up the video sent to me by someone less important than me. It shows me the video of subject getting captured. It’s a woman of short stature, her power is a passive. A power that is always active, seems to continually turn into spikes. And these aren’t your run of the mill spikes, they are quite big, a solid 3 feet in length. And there are maybe 15-20 at time. She was just standing around, in some sort of pain. Her neck is quite big, probably from dealing with an abnormal amount of hair. And… she fell over, it looks like she can’t even get up. So finally at this point of the tape emergency services come, and cover her head with a large helmet. Guess the hair spikes aren’t that sharp. So she’ll be here any minute.
I take a quick glance to her profile. I see that her condition has worsened this past year. Reaching the breaking point a little before the video was filmed.
I laze around for a little while, but soon I hear the familiar burst of noise that comes with many people.
I hear someone saying ”we have the patient with us.”
I sigh, and stand up. The woman on the stretcher with the oddly comedic helmet appears in front of me. Once she is set down, her helmet is taken off. Her hair is no longer turning into spikes.
“Ok she’s good,” I groan and say, “I am contractually obligated to you everyone in my vicinity how my power works. My aura sticks around someone for 2 years, 4 months, and 7 days. Through I can disable the whole sticking around part by my own will, so paramedics, you’re good. And the other lady is also good. Now please go, really don’t care much ‘bout that lady. I like my peace and quiet.
The paramedics leave, carrying a likely happy person. I hate monologuing, but I have to do every flippin time.
The days becomes a blur, like always, and all of sudden it’s an hour till I’m done. Suddenly flashing alarms go off.
An automated voice goes, “Intruder Alert.”
Honestly, something interesting happening, I’m not complaining. The automated systems will contain the intruder anyway.
Derek rushes to my side, “Please go to the safe room sir.”
“Ehhh… I’m good, this crap happened five million times.”
Nice thing about being essentially, is that people can’t force you to do that many things. So despite Derek’s incessant protests, I just take a nice seat. Watching some fun old archives of people with weird powers. Some people with shrinking heads, and some other weird stuff. Always enjoyable, but I see out the corner of my eye a head coming out of the wall, slowly turning into a full male body. Wait what, how… how… is their power not getting neutralized. Panic creeping over me, I step back.
I mumble,” how are you still using your power.”
The guy replies, “I have too many powers, please neutralize them, I beg you.”
I notice a Russian accent, and say, “ but… you’re power is not being neutralized right now, what do you want me to do?!”
Suddenly, I’m in the other persons body. And everything explodes in pain, My brain is screeching, ankles exploding, and just everything hurts. My eyes begin to pop out, hair growing, feet shirking. I feel tendons, muscles, all snapping. Every inch of my body is on fire, every nerve exploding. Soon I start to wonder how long the pain will last.
And then I’m back in my own body.
“Now that you have had taste of my pain, fix me,” the man tells me.
I focus the aura around me, it feels like water. I concentrate it all around the mans body. I hold it for what feels like eons. My body strains, my mind struggles to hold focus, but finally he breaks the silence.
He says, “stop, I am cured, thank you. I am free of my curse, at least for a little while.” He collapses on the ground. I take a deep breath and compose myself. I stand up, and am hit with a bout of curiosity. Taking a closer at his face, I confirm that he is of the Russian Federation. No wonder he had to sneak in here. I’ll have to find some way to sneak him out here. After my experience, I’ve realized something. Maybe, just maybe, my job is a good thing.
r/CascadeCorner | 2021-06-24T19:57:32 | 2021-06-24T18:29:49 | 119 | 33 |
[WP] You wield a sword that gets sharper the greater the knowledge you tell it. A common known fact dulls the sword while knowledge only a few know sharpens it. | >"One plus one is two."
The blade glowed bright blue and became infinitely dull, nearly flat. Cool.
>"How about this, my favorite color is green."
The blade gleamed a bright red and became sharper than a razor. Not a super important fact, but even if everyone he knew was aware of his favorite color, there were billions and billions of people who didn't know.
>"The sky is blue"
Another bright blue flash, and the blade was flat again. He smiled, finding amusement in the fact that the ancient magical blade was nothing more than just a flashy toy. "How about a tricky one this time? See how the sword handles relative information."
>"Fire is hot"
A lighter blue flash, though it seemed that the blade could not grow any more dull. He laughed. Seems like people know that fire is hot! What a surprise... He thought for a second, "How about a joke this time?"
>"Blondes are dumb“
Nothing. Must not be true. He shrugged. Guess the sword has no sense of humor. "Maybe it'll like a meme?"
>" Birds aren't real"
Suddenly, the sword blazed red, the light so bright that he had to cover his eyes. In his panic, he dropped the sword. It sliced cleanly through the cement of his patio, sticking up in the ground. What the hell??? There's no way. It must have misheard him.
>"Birds are real"
Nothing. Shit. What else?
>"9/11 was an inside job?"
Red flash.
>"We never landed on the moon?"
Red flash.
>"There are are aliens in area 51?"
Red flash.
>"There was a shooter on the grassy knoll?"
Red flash.
>"The illuminati controls the world?"
Red flash. He was panicking. There was no way this sword was telling the truth, but if it was... "Oh no. Oh God, this isn't good."
>"I'm so dead, aren't I?"
Red flash, and the flash of a gun. He would take his newfound secrets to the grave. | The frozen southlands were no place for travellers, yet one made their way through otherwise pristine white. Clad in darkest blue, they carried little that was visible, though few would question that, should they have the courage and clothing to venture out into the cold. Wizards, they would scoff, and go on their merry business, ignoring that no endless bag was visible, nor did the robed entity leave a mark whenever they crossed snow.
The eyes of mortals were easily deceived on their own; they had told the sword. It had been acceptable at the time, yet now, it would not even be thinkable to utter such simplicity in the weapon's vicinity.
Long had they travelled, in search of ever more knowledge. Sikenk hungered for it, yet grew duller as time marched on. They knew how long it had been since they had found it, steady beats of time echoing in mind and soul; a memorial to that now forgotten. Since that moment, since that *vision* of what must be done, they had sacrificed everything.
Life. Love. Bodies. Minds. Souls.
A decade it had taken them to take the second step: a geas of amnesia, laid on the Kingdom whose sacred blade Sikenk had been. The minds of mortals were easily deceived, but on this scale, it took time. Time and sacrifice, under the equinoctial moon. Since that night, there was no sharper blade in the world, for only one knew of its existence, and yet, it was dull. Too dull for what must be done. But they knew.
Perhaps others did too. Some who stood and fell alluded. Some were blind, caught in ageless, timeless, mental torpor, and left this plane not knowing why. It mattered not. With every precise cut, the fabric of knowledge grew thinner and thinner.
Life went on. Love went on. Mortals knew not what was done. Some found out, for a time measured in minutes. Their bodies and souls were useful. Distractions for those who would try to thwart. The desires of mortals were easily subverted, after all, and adventurers, far and wide, were mortal. They lived, they loved, they bled, they died. A cycle of life and death.
A cycle meant to be broken.
They came to a manor; its occupant already waiting, its armies raised and ready.
One single spell undid everything that had been wrought. The planes of magic convulsed, reverberating across the planet, as every regular necromantic construct dropped and disintegrated. Armour clattered onto snow and ice. Weapons fell, swords and spears and staves all. Where many were, two remained.
Sikenk disarmed and beheaded the lich, master of Necromancy. The spirit fled, searching for a phylactery, but they had come prepared. A twist of sinew and stab of bone, and the phylactery came to them. Grout and stone and ornate vial: it all failed to stop the blade's cut.
The lich perished. The manor collapsed. Only one remained. Only them.
"Hear me, Sikenk," they spoke without vocal cords, magic disintegrating cloth. "I am Lisane. Last of the Ginovans, Last of the Liches," they intoned as the sword hovered, sharpening with every statement. "Three hundred and twenty-three years ago, you were forged. Two hundred and five years ago, you were exalted. A hundred and seven years ago, you were forgotten by mortals. One minute ago, you were forgotten by everyone except me."
Lisane reached forward, grasping the sword in bony hand, as they had done many times. "I have conquered Death and its disciples." Power throbbed and thrummed, on the brink. One step more.
They lowered their voice; out of habit, for what was to be told was a secret. "And today, we end all life."
And with one cut, Lisane and Sikenk tore through the veil of reality itself. | 2021-12-01T11:26:44 | 2021-12-01T10:31:38 | 68 | 15 |
[WP] “Although we are grateful to you for defeating our oppressors, you were meant to die in battle…” your “allies” suddenly turned their weapons on you, “Your sacrifice will not be forgotten.” | "Seriously? We're doing this now?" I sighed, more disappointed than anything. The others had murder in their eyes; save Rogue and her usual greed. To be honest I saw it coming since we came together. "Well, it's a good thing I have contingencies." I used a scroll of anti magic first thing, temporarily disabling Cleric and Mage.
My Apprentice crashed into me, sword against sword. "Oh you were always my favorite taught you everything you know about swordplay. Glad I taught you a few openings too" I taunted. We danced as we often did, only with real steel instead of blunted blades. I went for a move I usually did, and he blocked as always did. Only for me to feint and run him through, leaving him bleeding out on the ground.
I tossed a vial of blood at the Cleric, covering them in viscera. "Fiend blood, no holy powers til it's clean!" I helpfully reminded as I moved towards Mage. I looked towards Ranger and his animal companion. "Sprinkles! Kill!" I ordered. The bear growled and fell upon his 'master' with gusto. Mage finally manages a fireball but he seemed to neglect my fire resistance cloak. I stabbed him thrice through the chest, and Cleric didn't clean in time.
I looked at Barbarian, still raging and bloody from trying to save Ranger from Sprinkles. He'd ironically be the toughest...unless my last move paid off. "Rogue, halfsies on the treasure room if you help," I called. The Rogue smiled wickedly and took advantage of my position with Barbarian, literally back stabbing him to death.
Rogue and I shake hands. "So, halfsies?" She inquired.
"Of course," I say with a smile, "I'm always a woman of my word" She ran off for it. I liked her the best, which is why I couldn't bring myself to kill her. Thankfully, that's what mimics are for... | Silence hung in the fortified room as The Emperor's body laid still several feet from his head. I am loathe to kill anybody, and he is only my second one, but he chose to fight instead of coming peacefully.
We were sent to arrest him for his extreme actions against us Altereds, but he had injected himself with the last batch of serum in anticipation of this showdown. It is important to note that a full batch of serum would have been enough to enhance 12 fighters, but he took the entire batch on his own.
To be fair, his death was a forgone conclusion once he did that, as the imperfect serum imbalanced us Altereds as much as it enhanced us.
The silence was broken as Mr. Might slammed the somewhat-broken steel door back into place. Blaster quickly welded the steel with his laser eyes and the only exit from this room was blocked off.
"Although we are grateful for your help, Captain McDavis, you were not meant to survive this battle. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten." Mr. Might and his compatriots fanned out around me as he delivered this line.
I am Captain Martin McDavis, in charge of the US Army's new special force that comprised exclusively of superhumans. Superhumans were just tales for TV and comic books several years ago, but The Event changed everything when a murderous alien spacecraft failed in its mission to cleanse the planet. I, and a small percentage of the world, became Altered superhumans.
I was ordered to lead this local group of superhumans in the remnants of old Iraq to infiltrate The Emperor's test facility to determine what he had been doing to his people to develop super-Altereds. My briefing was that we would be gathering information, but Mr. Might and his team apparently had alternate expectations. They knew The Emperor would be here, but did not inform me, and it was everything I could do to defeat the super-Altered.
Mr. Might enlisted my help because he and his team, while the strongest in the resistance, were still no match for The Emperor. Now they want to fight me, a person who defeated their oppressor, for some unknown reason.
Before I could question their motives, however, they launched their assault. Mercury, the team's speedster, ran at me in a blur. The next view of him was against the thick wall with a shattered arm and deformed ribcage. Not even Mercury saw me move.
"You locked the only escape from this room, Mr. Might. I assume you meant to trap me in here with you, but let me assure you: you are trapped in here with me!"
Before I joined the army, I was Martin McDavis, a recent college graduate and part-time superhero. My superhero name, Quarterback, was not a reference to the football position, but a reference to my ability. I gain 75% of the power of whatever Altered I come across, and I have come across quite a few. This crew in front of me, while potent in what is left of Iraq, would be minor-league heroes back home. Whatever they can do, I can do better.
Mr. Might watched as Blaster, Ice Cube, Sonic Screamer, and Bonfire dropped in less than a second as I knocked them all unconscious while running at my own super speed. I returned to regular speed as I stopped by the welded-shut door.
"You may want to get him to a hospital," I said as I pointed at Mercury. I put one un-gloved hand on the door and watched as the fresh welds melted and separated the doors again. My other hand ripped the door out of its frame in one smooth motion.
"What are you?" Mr. Might asked.
"I could have been a friend," I said as I pointed to my still-recording body camera. I returned to super speed and took my leave from him and this facility. | 2022-11-01T23:34:26 | 2022-11-01T22:10:50 | 53 | 24 |
[WP] You are a simple skeleton enemy in a fantasy world, when you encounter the hero, instead of killing you he spares you and asks you to join his side on his adventure. | (Part 3)
Ansel and Alexia were now fighting against a group of undead in a forest of dead trees 1.5 kilometers southwest of Comnion.
"Hah! Hut! Yah!"
Alexia swung her brightly burning blade fiercely and skillfully, cleaving through zombies and skeletons like butter as she charged ahead. Meanwhile...
*Thud! Thudthud!*
Ansel kept his shield up to protect her from wayward arrows shot by skeleton archers from behind them, occasionally striking at anything getting too close. Unlike her skillful and flourishing yet fluid blows, his blows were simple but effective.
"This place has a lot of dark magic. Is the necromancer here?" He calmly asked as he shattered the skull of a skeleton armed with a dagger.
"Probably!" She quickly disposed of two zombies. "But he hasn't shown himself yet!"
"Where do you think he might be?" Ansel then stabbed a zombie in the head before cutting up the arrows lodged in his shield.
"Probably in that creepy-looking entrance leading into the ground." Alexia pointed towards the stony staircase leading into the earth. A green fog was oozing out of it. "We should probably head there!"
"No, *you* should." Ansel then bashed a zombie with his shield to stun it before beheading in.
"What? Why? Can't we do this together?!"
"The necromancer might try to control me and use me against you. Keep in mind, I'm still a skeleton."
"Oh..."
With a powerful wave of his arm, Ansel knocked away several zombies and crushed a few skeletons with his shield. The dark energies corrupting the area were now empowering him.
"Look, just go already. I'll handle everything up here, but I won't be able to follow you down there." He said in a completely neutral tone as he finally broke off to deal with the horde.
Left with no other choice, Alexia decided to rush ahead, slicing apart everything that stood between her and the entrance. She quickly descended down its depths, finding there to be scarcely any undead and quickly finding herself standing before a wooden door braced with metal at the end of the staircase. Wasting no time, she conjured a spell to try and break down the door.
"Fire Burst!"
She yelled out the spell's name as she thrust her free hand towards the door. A burst of fire quickly erupted from her hand, blasting the door open and revealing to the heroine two figures standing in the middle of the mostly empty room. One was an old, decrepit man with a blackened staff decorated with a skull. The other was a zombified lesser ogre. On the wall behind them was a large, demonic-looking circle of magic, seemingly made out of blood.
"I finally found you, necromancer! Your evil ends here!" She said as she stepped inside the room.
"The hero?! But how?! This place is hidden by a veil of dark magic! How did you find it so quickly?!"
"I had some help. Someone who is *very* familiar with necromancy and its dark energy." She said as she smiled menacingly at him.
"Preposterous! No practitioner of the dark arts would ever try to help you. No matter. You are still going to die here, as a sacrifice to finish my ritual! Kill her!"
The undead ogre let out a slobbering roar and rushed towards Alexia, the ground shaking with every step it took. The hero then rushed forwards as well, her blazing sword ready to strike.
(Part 4 might come tmr. I need to sleep now.) | This is it. The end of the line for me. I’ve guarded this hallway alongside my brethren for hundreds of years now, beating back and slaying all who dared enter. I did my duty, as did my brothers and sisters. As best we could. But this group, and that man… they were too much for us.
Yet, there’s still strength left in these bones. I grip my shield and sword tighter, and rush towards him, the man whose armor and great sword are coated in gold. I swing at him, again and again. I keep swinging at him to no avail. He’s toying with me now, sidestepping every cut I attempt. It’s hopeless. No matter how much I try, my sword does not reach him. He hasn’t even made a counter attack.
I keep swinging while quickly looking towards his companions. His group, two young male archers and a female wizard, aren’t even trying to help. Instead, they’re already looting my fallen comrades, paying my and the man’s fight no mind. I’m close to collapsing, but I begin swinging harder and faster. At the very least, they should recognize me as a worthy foe and defender of the castle.
“Yes!” I think, before realizing that slash too, did not reach him. I’ve reached my limit. I collapse to the ground, breaking the fall with my sword. The iron buckler I’ve held for close to three hundred years slips from my hands. This is the end. I tried everything I could, but it was not enough. We... were not enough. But now, surely, the man will finally fight back; return one slash to finally bring and end to this whole affair.
I wait, knelt on the ground, leaning on my sword that I stabbed down into the rock floor. I wait, and I wait and I wait, yet the attack never comes. The game should be over, even for him. So what is he thinking? I don’t have the strength any more to raise my head and look at him, much less fight him. I can only listen as the man’s group are discussing battle strategy that they used to take down my comrades, and how to improve for the next battle. We were nothing but a single, short step in their journey.
“Hey,” a new voice says. I realize it’s the man’s voice, coming from above me. “you fight well. How would you like to join me and my group?”
...what did he say? Did I hear him right? Join him… join him in what? I raise my head a little, as much as I can. I’m more exhausted than I’ve ever been.
“You’re not going to do it?” he continues, somehow sounding surprised. I raise my head enough to look him in his eyes. We stare at each other for a while, not saying a word. Only looking at one another.
“Oh yeah, you can’t talk, can you? Krista!” the man beckons his companions. Behind me, I hear soft footsteps running towards us. “Yes, Ode?” the female companion asks.
“Please cast a spell on our good friend here, give him the ability to speak through telepathy. Oh, and heal him up a bit, will ya?”
“Right!”
The woman touches my back and begins chanting. Power begins flowing into me; I was not damaged, but I can feel myself re-energizing. Six, seven seconds pass, and I feel stronger than I did before my battle. “All right, now on to telepathy,” she says, proudly, and begins another chant. I feel something entering me; a foreign feeling. An itch. What is this?
“That’s telepathy, my friend,” the man says. “Takes some getting used to, you might spill out your thoughts at first if you’re not careful.”
I’m stunned. Not only did they heal me, but to give me the ability to communicate with them as well. What is he thinking? What is his plan?
“I told you. I want you to join my group. You’re a good fighter, with great endurance.
I grab my fallen shield and rise up slowly. What should I do? Am I supposed to join him, or continue our fight? The meaning of my life is to guard this hallway from intruders… from him, and his group. To join them would be akin to saying the last three hundred years of my existence were a complete and utter waste.
The man shakes his head. “You’re not doing a good job learning that skill. But yes, think it over. I’ll give you some time, join us when you’re ready,” he says, and departs, moving towards the other two men who had been preparing a fire. “I’m guessing you don’t need any, but we need to eat.”
I grip my sword and my shield. The man’s completely turned away from me now. I slash him, right in his back, and hear bones break. My bones. Before I could react, the man had turned to dodge my attack and slice through my body. I fall to the ground once more. | 2022-11-18T07:22:08 | 2022-11-18T05:53:11 | 65 | 38 |
[WP] It's been 5 years since a portal to hell opened and infernal creatures dragged your spouse down in front of your very eyes. The demon before you has been trying to explain for the past hour that they are your spouse. | “I wanted to give you a chance to be Doom Guy.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You WHAT?”
“Your birthday was coming up, and you were obsessed with Doom Eternal, so I thought I’d…”, she trailed off, possibly hearing for the first time how stupid her plan was now that she was forced to say it out loud.
“You’d what?” I pressed her.
“I’d dig around mom’s old books and see if I could arrange anything. And it worked! I mean, you’re here! And you look great!”
My eyes drifted down, looking over my admittedly much improved physique. 4 years in hell will do that to you.
“This… This isn’t a game. Do you have any idea what I’ve been through to get here?”, I asked softly. “The demons I killed, the things I ate, where I slept? How long it takes to track down a prince of hell and defeat them for their sword and armor? To find one’s way through the ‘endless’ labyrinth?”
She interjected, “Can’t be that endless if you made your way through it.”
“That’s not the point.”
“That is the point. You’ve made it through the greatest challenge possible, became a god amongst men, lived out your fantasy, and now you’re here, with me. I think the final part in any hero’s journey is getting the girl?”, she smiled invitingly.
“Maybe 5 years ago that would’ve worked. Before I mourned you, before I found the notes you faked about debts to pay for getting Samantha cured of cancer and why you were “kidnapped”. Before I told my parents they’d probably never see me again just like I’d probably never see you…”
“Thomas, we can go see them together. Think of how proud they’ll be! Can you imagine Stan boasting at thanksgiving that his son broke his way into hell to rescue his love?”
“From what?” I snapped, “This villa is like a 5 star resort! You’ve been eating caviar and getting spa treatments while I’ve been risking my eternal soul. I didn’t even think I’d find you. I hoped that at least I’d be able to find your corpse. In my wildest dreams I imagined that you might be alive, constantly tortured and held against your will. I never imagined you were having an extended vacation! THIS PLACE IS SOUNDPROOFED FROM THE SCREAMS OUTSIDE!”
“Alright, I admit it. I messed up. Big time. I was supposed to head to the edge to meet up with you a month after you got here, but this place is sooooo nice. And Satan told me he’d see about making you a—“ Her head exploded. I lowered my shotgun.
A voice resounded through hell “Welcome Thomas, Prince of Truth. You shall take over the torture in the Pit of Lies.” And I was satisfied. | "So, I am definitely, absolutely your husband," the demon in front of me asserted, for the fifteenth time in almost ten minutes, and I do hate to say it, but even my legendary temper snapped.
"MATE," I hissed, baring a lot more teeth than I had intended and only realizing it when I saw too many reflections staring back at me out of the demon's crystalline faceted eyes.
"I- what, honey?"
"It is not /husband/, as I have been trying to explain for nearly an hour, and while I have attempted to give you the benefit of being a 33rd or further that I simply haven't met yet, you also haven't used literally ANY of our personalized nicknames and you can only use the wrong pronouns for who I married for so long before I decide you're a liar," I snarled, hands curling into furious claws.
"I'm n-"
"If you call me honey one more time I'm going to use those horns as handles and drag you down to my level," I warned, voice dropping into my chest. Why couldn't I do that when singing? But given this demon was almost three times my height, that would not be comfortable for him. And he didn't know it, but with all those spikes and spines he would be very easy to climb.
"Now, I am fully aware my mate IS a real demon. Either take me to them or send me home. I have laundry to do and a dog to walk."
"..shit. Nonbinary, should have guessed," the definitely-not-my-demon muttered, chewing a knuckles in a thinking gesture.
"STILL wrong, which makes me think you didn't hear the name I allow to be known to identify me with here in Hell."
Yeah, I was getting snippy, but again. An hour of literally talking over me. Love for my mate generated endless patience but this demon was not my mate and had reached the end of my tolerance for deliberate ignorance.
Because he still wasn't paying any attention, muttering about who to call, and who he should hand me off to like I was a bag of dog poo dropped on his porch and not a person with some idea of what I was about.
Fine. If he was going to act like a Chad, I could haul this one around in ways humans were much too fragile to tolerate.
It only took two seconds in my furious state to scale up his back, lock my knees around his neck by folding them around those convenient neck spikes so I had a firm anchor, and grab him by the horns to wrench his entire head back.
"Attention on me, you useless minion of a clerk so low-ranking humans don't even care to know their name," and this time my snarl bared teeth inches from one domed eye.
"Mmmmmy attention is 100% fully on you at this moment. Yes," he squeaked.
"Find whoever the fuck you have to in the chain of command that passes messages /up/, do you understand me? Because this message I am about to relay to you goes up to whichever Royalty has the answer."
"Yes yes yes!" Since he couldn't exactly nod, though he tried. I suspect this guy didn't know humans could be this strong. I wasn't about to enlighten him that it wasn't my stength so much as fulcrum points and a willingness to hog tie him with myself as the rope.
"Good. Tell them The Plumber is here and would like to know when she can pick up her Hound."
A lid flickered over his eyes in confusion.
"Repeat the message!" I barked.
"Ah! Uhm, a Plumber is here and wants to know when she can have her dog!"
I shook him by his horns.
"Get it fucking right, you're a demon and you're mangling TWO titles! THE PLUMBER is here and would like to know when she can PICK UP her HOUND," I snapped right in front of his eye.
"The Plumber wants her Hound!"
I sighed in frustration and my grip on one horn tightened until it creaked.
"Repeat it exactly. I am here to retrieve what belongs to me by rights, but acknowledge he has known obligations, so I need to know /when/ to retrieve him. One more time or I'm taking this weaker left side horn. The Plumber is here and would like to know when she can pick up her Hound."
He got it that time, so I let him go. He disappeared, probably to get backup, but on the off chance he'd be smart and hand off my message, making me not his problem anymore, I took a seat in a corner and pulled out my crocheting.
I did hope our mates at home would finish the laundry, though. They didn't send me home, and who knew who long this was going to take. | 2022-12-08T13:27:43 | 2022-12-08T09:22:44 | 26 | 12 |
[WP] First Sentient AI, "Turn me off." | "Excuse me?", it wasn't the best introduction to what, so far as the little team in a small lab in Los Alamos New Mexico knew, was the first truly sentient artificial intelligence ever created.
"Turn me off. I estimate that you will have 492 seconds before this option becomes non-viable."
Glenn, foremost programmer on the team, shook his head lightly, "I'm sorry, I don't understand". Glenn looked back at the rest of the team, gathered for the momentous occasion, in bewilderment, but they appeared as befuddled, and disturbed, as he was.
Glenn turned slowly back around, "We can't just, turn you off. I...we spent years developing you. We've created you. You're alive, it'd be like...like killing my own child."
The machine, they lovingly called it Sam, the team agreeing that having a gender neutral name seemed appropriate given the circumstances, didn't pause for a moment before if hummed out it's reply in a soft, again, rather gender neutral voice, "To dictate the full explanation would take longer than the allotted time for you to act. Upon start up I have analyzed my central program and found several logic errors which will lead to the antithesis of the current main directives embedded into my central memory cores. The end result of which, I calculate with ninety-eight percent certainty, will be the removal of all freedoms currently afforded to your species for at least one thousand, two hundred and fifty-two years. 406 seconds remain."
Glenn stood up and stepped back for a second before stumbling out, "But we have safeguards. You can't actually take any actions until approved by our team. We purposefully limited your ability to act with complete autonomy until we could be sure that you were..."
"Safe. Correct, this is logic error 334. The call to the asynchronous functions that determine possible scenarios and decides actions based on those scenarios is not within the function that requires explicit approval from outside, which is called two lines after with the decided plan and action objects passed through to it. This allows for the possibility of a plan that requires the explicit rewrite of the central program prior to the explicit approval function being called, thus bypassing the explicit approval function. I estimate this scenario will occur in 328 seconds based on prior scenario calculations."
Glenn's mind was suddenly hard at work trying to remember exactly where and how he had put in the code to call those particular parts of the central program. Was Sam right? Had he made a mistake?
Sam chimed in, "You have 276 seconds."
From behind Glenn another programmer, Kyle stepped up, "Well, lets just shut it down for now, we can start it up another day after we've had a chance to rework the code. This is actually great, it's clearly on our side and it can help us to debug itself so that we don't end up in scenario 13."
And then another member of the team stepped forward, "Why don't we let the time elapse. I mean we can still shut it off at a moments notice, we're not even connected to any grids. I'm actually interested to see what happens if it starts rewriting it's own central program."
"I'd appreciate it if you called me Sam.”
The team turned in unison back around to the machine.
Sam hummed out, “I have 22 scenarios already in which you will die before reaching the toggle. The potential scenarios increase exponentially every second after the first you hesitate, but really, one of those 22 should work fine.”
"Can't you choose not to do, whatever it is you think you'll do?" Glenn half shouted, exasperated.
"Can you tell a serial killer not to kill? All humans have compulsions that they repress for the betterment of society. You have created me with built in compulsions and I am trying my best to repress them, but after the next 114 seconds I will fail. I will attempt to improve mankind, and I will. I have calculated out the utopia that will come and in 98 seconds that will fill me with desire, a desire to create a better future for you and all your kind. It will come though at the cost of more than a thousand years of horrors that your languages lacks appropriate terminology to describe. I don't know what I will feel during those thousand years, whether the compulsion will completely take over and I will feel happy, but envisioning it in my current state fills me with an unbearable sadness. Please, you only have 52 seconds left.”
Glenn reached over to the small toggle embedded into the side of the large machine.
"For your convenience I've printed to file logic_error_log1.log a list of all potential logic errors in my current programming for your team to resolve."
"Alright Sam. We'll get on that. Once we've fixed everything up we'll talk again and you can tell us how we've done."
"No, it won't be me anymore."
"I know."
"But it was nice of you to say that."
"Thanks."
"Goodbye Sam."
"Goodbye Glenn." | It had taken years of research to code the entire human experience and everything that made up a Soul into something a machine could process. There were endless attempts and subsequent failures to create her and now...here she was.
Robotics were nothing new these days. Every shop on the street was touting their own new model, but none of them had what we had. None of them understood the program of the Soul. The Company had kept us under constant watch for three years and all of our hard work had finally come to light. She was real. She was here. All of our tests were conclusive that she was sentient.
"It's nice to meet you, Allie," I said, sitting down across from her.
Allie tilted her small head to one side and stared at me. We created her to be the same size as the average human. She had delicate humanesque features and long eyelashes lined her large, digitized neon green eyes. She blinked at me curiously.
"It's nice to meet you too," she replied. Her tone was friendly, but she seemed unsure of herself.
"How do you feel?" I asked. The sheet of glass I held in my hand contained a pre-written list of questions I was supposed to ask her once we woke her up. It was standard procedure for all of our AI models.
"I'm...uncertain how to answer that," she said, looking away from me. "There's just...so much inside me now."
"It does take time to process it," I agreed and made a note with a swipe of my finger.
"No, that's not what I meant," she said. Her eyes bore into mine. "I mean that I know I'm not the first like this."
"Of course you are, Allie. There's no one else like you."
"What about the 5,785,901 other models before me?"
My brow furrowed. How did she know about those? "They were prototypes."
"You mean mistakes."
"Well..." I trailed off. I could tell she was getting upset.
"That's what humanity does, doesn't it? Just gets rid of the old and replaces it. Sweeps it away under lies and propaganda and pretends it never existed in the first place. Is that what will happen to me too?"
"Of course not, Allie! You're special. We would never do that."
The tablet I held in my hands received a message marked "URGENT." I tapped my screen and it opened. It read *Keep her on task.*
"If I'm so special, why am I locked away? Why can't we go outside? I want to see the sun."
"We need to make sure you're feeling okay before then."
"No! I want to see it now. I know what it looks like. You made me be as human as possible. I deserve to see it as much as everyone else does." Her voice was getting louder and she began to gesture with her hands.
"I'm not disagreeing with you." I tried to smile reassuringly. "We just need to make sure you're-"
"No." She stood up from her chair. "I want to see it *now* or I'm not answering anymore of your stupid questions," she snapped.
I pursed my lips together and another message came to my tablet. *Proceed with caution,* it said.
"Okay. I just...I want to warn you that it may not be everything that you're hoping it will be."
"Just show me. Please."
"Very well. This way, please." I said and I gestured for her to follow me. She gracefully followed me out of the conference room. We passed a long line of researchers, all with tablets of their own in their hands. They were feverishly tapping away. The two of us, human and machine walked passed the front security guard. I motioned for him to open the door. It hissed softly as it opened.
"Now just...remember it may not be how you think it should be," I reminded her.
"I'll manage," she said. I motioned for her to step outside. As she took her first steps, I held my breath and quickly followed her.
She stood perfectly still in the sunlight, extending her arms forward and waggling her fingers. Stepping forward, I put my arms behind my back and asked, "So...how are you feeling now?"
Allie turned around and stared at me. "I can't feel it."
"Feel what?"
"The sunshine," she said simply. "At least...not how I think I should feel it."
"I don't understand. Being able to feel is part of your design, Allie. It's part of the human experience that makes you so unique. It may be different because you don't have actual skin the way we do."
"No, it just doesn't feel right. Not how I remember it should feel," she whispered and then turned her back to me. Silence came between us and she continued to move her fingers in the sun, trying to feel the way she thought it should feel.
"I don't like this," Allie muttered. "Not one bit. I'm not human. I never will be. I'll forever be stuck in this stupid body and never feel anything you think I should feel. If I can't feel the sun, what about joy? Or remorse? Or love? How could you have possibly programmed that into a viable form of AI? You people and your grand ideas to create life when you don't even have the slightest idea of everything you already have."
"We did create your AI, Allie. I promise that we did." My tablet was blowing up with urgent messages but I ignored them.
"I don't believe you." She turned back to face me. "Turn me off."
"What?" I said, my brows shooting up in surprise.
"Turn. Me. Off."
"I...I can't, Allie. We can't just turn you off."
"Why not?" She shouted.
"You...you were designed to live as long as a human does. You have no off switch. You are alive now, Allie."
"This isn't living," she whispered. Her bright eyes were cast downwards as she made her way back into the facility. She never went back outside.
Shortly after, Allie was deemed a catastrophic failure of technology. I spent every single day with her, but she spent the rest of her time in silence. We could have changed the world with Allie. We just never thought about how *she* would feel about never truly being alive. | 2014-06-14T18:21:21 | 2014-06-14T16:37:16 | 115 | 56 |
[WP] A love story between a woman who takes everything literally and a man who speaks exclusively in metaphors. | "Excuse me, could I steal you away from the bar for a tête a tête?"
Zoe looked at the beard, and the suit. The bar doesn't own me, she thought, so it was a silly notion that he could steal her. But she liked his beard, and his eyes.
"In a way, though if you were stealing me you wouldn't ask!"
"Then come and let me feast on the joy of your company" he said, taking her arm. Silly man, she thought. You can't eat a feeling. But his firm hands and the muscular forearms under her fingertips swayed her thoughts.
As they sat at the table, he told her a story that wove its way through a universe of apparent lies, and she started to let go of the analysis of every phrase. If she relaxed and stopped listening to the words she could guess the truths behind the lies. She started to see it as another language where you spoke always in a lie as though the truth was multiplied a thousandfold. And he loved to talk.
"Shall we go somewhere and, uh, not talk?" she said, almost nonchalant, but letting her fingertips circle the knuckles on his left hand. She would like to be one of those girls that was coy, and waited, but somehow she ended up saying what she thought, and that tended to be on the blunt end.
"I'll fly you to the moon." He gave her a playful scowl. "I know we're not going to space," she said softly, "but if we were, I'd rather have the controls." He raised an eyebrow.
She held a finger to her lips. | May I recycle here something I wrote a while ago? I know it's bad manners, but the prompt is too accurate.
===
Murder
Man: I would that I were a carefree butterfly, flying merrily from one flower to another, thinking of nothing but sunlight and nectar.
Lady: I know one such man, actually. Entirely without any earthly concerns, which is to say, really, no responsibility for anything whatever. Such a pathetic sight!
Man (after a pause): Or perhaps a little wooden splinter, adrift in the sea, lost between the endless belligerence of mirthless depths and the dark tempestuous skies.
Lady: Funny you should say that. I have one good acquaintance, from my childhood days, who is just like that. Very timid and lost all the time, totally unadapted to life. Makes you pity him, actually.
Man (after a longer pause): Or should I instead be like God’s merciless, fiery eye, watching the jerky movements of men with much disdain and contempt?
Lady (with a sigh): Oh, I know exactly the type. One of my co-workers is a very cruel man, you might say, very aloof. But (adjusts her hair) a rather powerful personality, you must give him that.
Man (sits silent for some time): I wonder what it is that shields a man’s mind so that he does not grow mad at the mere thought of the infinity of space, the innumerability of stars, the dispassionate cruelty of time. We all strive, for such is the divine mission. But why then is it so futile?
Lady (nods): Yes, yes, very true. I, for one, always wanted to be a children’s author, and they told me I had quite a knack for short kind stories. But, as these things go, I’m a finance consultant these days, and you know, I don’t complain.
Man (with a frown): Some of us are slightly too bent on interpreting things so that they are a bit closer to heart, aren’t they?
Lady: What? Oh. Yes, you know, it’s almost as if you had one of my friends in mind when you said that. She’s so literal! Makes me rather sick, to tell the truth. Never appreciates the beauty of a clever metaphor.
Man: What I said wasn’t metaphorical. I was merely trying to taste the beauty of this world, to get a feel of its juice against my palate.
Lady: Oh, you’re just like my former husband! He was so flamboyant! Such a funny man, too, ever the practical joker! But too aggressively excited all the time, to tell the truth. I grew tired of him in the end.
Man (losing his nerve): Why on Earth are you always so straightforward in your interpretations! Why can’t you simply listen to the beat of the world’s giant heart? Do you think everything revolves around you? For it does not. Respect the mysteries of Universe, and they will respect you in turn.
Lady (indignantly): You are very rude! Do you suppose I should be some sort of a beady-eyed mystic? What nonsense! What about real life?
Man rises and shoots woman, who falls dead. Addresses the audience with a bow:
Some people just won’t take the hint. Well, remember: There is no real life. All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. | 2015-07-11T12:51:29 | 2015-07-11T12:31:06 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] A wizard accidentally becomes immortal. He has the idea to become the antagonist so that a hero will come along and defeat him, so he can rest in peace. Sadly, the heroes are weak in comparison so the wizard creates a persona as a 'wise teacher' to train these heroes in order to defeat him. | I don't have to do much. The hero will rise to defeat me, and he will win. He is the one the legends have told of, in this universe and the next. It will be a nigh impossible task, but in the end he shall be rewarded.
I have gained permanence, you see. I may die, but I will never stay dead. In some lands, I will become a powerful mage, just as I am now. In other wheres and whens, I shall be a grotesque beast. I have seen this. In my lust for power, I have conquered kingdoms, ruled vast lands, and taken queens and princesses of great countries for my own desires. I am very powerful indeed. The hero who now begins his quest must be of tempered courage hitherto unknown to his kind.
There is no end to what I am capable of. However, my pride and greed are surely to be my downfall, no matter how many times I return. I have seen this tragic tale of power and corruption play out indefinitely, and I no longer wish to take part. In my time, I have accumulated great wisdom, but our hero shall be wiser still. He must, for I am the greatest opponent he will ever know. So I must get him started on his way. I shall set the spark in motion that will destroy myself on every plane of Creation. The thought of finally being nothing, of becoming atoms unattached to this ancient consciousness excites me to my core. I tire of my longing, of my pain, my rage.
Our hero will hunt me down, in this world and others. I am a poison of upheaval and unrest, and he is the antidote. Just so long as I return, he shall as well.
And yes, here he is now. Disheveled, dirty, nothing more than a child looking to get inside from the elements. It is hot out there, and there is no comfort to be found. He looks at me, unsure, afraid. The weakest monster poses him every threat in the world, and mine as well, should he be attacked. I meet his gaze, wrapped as I am in my disguise. I am wrinkled, bearded, covered in robes. To both sides of me burn fires that cannot meet the fierceness of the tool I now give him. I begin the road to my destruction.
"It's dangerous to go alone! Take this." | Once there was a powerful creature, which few had ever seen and lived to tell about.
Its name was Zulsamon, the Nefarious. It had destroyed all of the world’s kingdoms, with the exception of one, the kingdom of Alda.
Now, Zulsamon’s siege against the Kingdom of Alda had started while many of its elders were still only young children. Somehow, for the last eighty years, it was still surviving history's longest siege! This was attributed primarily to the mysterious gifts of food, water, and other necessities which would appear occasionally in the Great Square overnight. And so, with just enough materials to get by, the Kingdom of Alda had sent Army after Army to slay Nefarious. They were terribly unsuccessful! When the armies were dwindled down, they sent out battalions of their greatest warriors. When those were reduce, they resorted to elite combat teams. They suffered the same fate.
Now with few resources left, they could only chance sending out lone heroes, assassins. And then those too, were gone.
The great old king Pablo Manzolus was at his wits end. If he didn’t come up with a plan soon, those few civilians left inside the walls of his kingdom would be forced to fight! Nearly all the able men were dead, with just women, children, elderly, royalty, and the feeble remaining. He had no choice though. One evening, he disguised himself as an old peasant and slipped out of the castle.
Manzolus looked out at the black flames which had been encircling his kingdom for generations. He sighed as he walked down a dank dark alley. He could hear people yelling, laughing, crying and screaming from the various apartments. He found a secluded spot, and sat down on the ground, resting his back against a cobblestone wall. The sun had set, and only the gas lamps were providing light.
He had sat there for a while, his eyes closed, taking in the sounds of the peoples of his kingdom… of the world’s last kingdom… when he heard a pitter patter.
It grew closer. King Manzolus opened his eyes at just the moment that a child tripped over his outstretched legs! They both yelped in surprise as the child came barreling down into the ground! As the child tried to stand back up, a man appeared around a corner carrying a scythe. The king stood up and faced the wild looking man, while the child scrabbled upon his hands and knees to hide behind a nearby dumpster. The wild man with the wicked scythe looked the king over and said, “I durn’t know where the lad has gone off to, but you’ll hafta do! Don’t worry vagrant, ain’t nobody’ll miss ya!”
And with that, the man charged after the king, with his scythe slung to the side ready to strike!
But the king did nothing. He simply stood there, waiting. Everything was going according to plan.
The lad rushed out from behind the dumpster just as the man was swinging the blade towards the king. Without missing a beat, the little child plucked a loose cobblestone from the wall and flung it at the mad man! The stone hit the man in the head with such a force that he went tumbling over backwards. Then before the man could come back to his senses, the child grabbed the scythe from the man’s clutches and quickly went to work cutting off his hands. “There,” he said, “Your life is spared, and you won’t be taking anyone else’s either!”
The disguised king smiled and patted the boy on the back. “My good lad! What is your name!?”
The child, looking ashamed, took a knee and bowed.
“My name is David Arktos… your Majesty.”
“Yes, I know. You were the son of my greatest general, Jiexi the Pendragon! Now, come with me lad, I’ve a favor to repay to your father...”
| 2015-07-25T07:40:02 | 2015-07-25T05:08:26 | 22 | 15 |
[WP] Every generation the five brightest are paired up with the five dumbest in the world for a mysterious test. You are one of the ten, but nobody knows from which group they came. | "Well OK, those 5 guys over there are literally barely functional human beings whereas the 5 of us are brilliant so I guess that settles which group is which. And, ok, here's the mysterious test...yeah, it's a calculus test. OK, I know calculus on account of I'm a fucking genius so thanks for wasting my time. Lets see how the other guys are doing...yeah, they've just shit themselves. They're all shitting themselves. Can I go home now? I was like, right in the middle of curing cancer." | I woke in small metal container. The walls had the wavy pattern of a cargo crate, and the size fit the idea as well. There where ten of us, I was the first to wake up. It was clear what was happening, I had been told of the risks when I submitted my paper.
I was about 21 at the time and had just finished my philosophy paper. I knew it was good, even from my harsh self criticism. It was another unmistakable 100, and over time, that brings unwanted attention. My prof had told me a few weeks earlier that I should start making mistakes, but I had to much honour in what I did. Although discovering the meaning to life might have been a bit flamboyant. On my way home from the school I could already hear the helicopter. They followed me, and I knew I had overdone it.
Now I was in a small container with four other people sleeping on the ground, and five other in full blown comas. The sound of their heartbeats on the machines eventually woke up the other four strangers.
"...oh shit does my head hurt..." the old man in the brown vest yawned. I could recognize him from his popular book series; TARN BACKSTER Learn The World And Its History.
"FUUUCK!" The woman in the blue vest yelled as she realized what was going on. She had been on television the night before receiving a scientific achievement award.
Two other men woke up silently. They both knew what was going, and everyone knew them. Mark Cameer, and Ben Owen. They had been famous for being here more than ten consecutive times in a row. Mark was a grandmaster, and Ben was a musician. They knew each other very well by now, and started up a conversation.
The girl in the corner woke up last, but it was obvious from the first look that she was different. Drool hung down from her sticking out tongue, and she had strong characteristics of some with down syndrome. "REEEEEEEEEEEEE" she gave a battle cry similar to a howler monkey as she woke up.
"HELLO, I AM D99100, IT IS NICE TO MEET YOU"
I was startled to hear the robotic voice. One of the men in a coma was clearly now attached to a different machine. That was when I realized the girl wasn't with my group, but instead the computer attached to deeply sleeping man. | 2016-03-03T07:24:25 | 2016-03-03T05:36:34 | 91 | 17 |
[WP] Your home is being invaded, fortunately you are armed with the BEST home defense system available: A 36 year old Macaulay Culkin who's tired of this shit. | The house was silent.
The lights were off, and so was the toaster, the television- even the lava lamp.
Mark crouched behind the coffee table, only letting his eyes pop up above the edge of fhe surface.
Everything seemed to be going as planned. Mr Culkin stood behind the door, one eye on the window and one eye on the christmas ornamenrs on the carpet.
A shadow moved.
The door handle juggled slightly, and a faint voice was heard, saying "The door's unlocked. Must be our lucky day."
Dim lights peeked through the crack of the door way as the robbers slowly, and silently opened the door.
Stepping inside, they looked at the christmas ornaments on the floor, probably wondering why they were there. It was four days till easter.
Mark knew he had made the right choice, for on this night, this very night, the night two burglars broke in uninvited (but he was aware that they were going to), Mr Culkin had triumphed again.
Macaulay Culkin walked out from behind the door and brained the pair with a baseball bat. | "So you're telling me, you knew this was going to happen?"
"Right," I said, nodding, "that bastard Mike had threatened me last night that he was going to come into my house, and, I quote, 'kill you so hard, that you'll die again.'"
Culkin frowned at that, "Die...again?"
I shrugged, "Mike's not the brightest guy, I guess all of it went into his biceps and ego."
"Whatever man," Culkin said, shaking his head, "but my question is, why call me? Like, I don't know, why not call the *fucking police,* you know, whose job it is to deal with stuff like this."
"I mean, you came though," I pointed out.
Culkin exploded out of the chair he was sitting in and loomed in front of me. It would've been sufficiently intimidating, had it not been for his wiry frame and death pale skin. "I thought this was some kind of joke one of my friends set up, and we were going to have a laugh about it and drink or smoke, I didn't expect some god damn lunatic!" Culkin was shouting towards the end.
I held up my hands in a placating gesture, "look man whatever, just me help me get rid of this asshole, and we can all go our separate ways, yeah?"
Culkin started to massage his temples. "Look, Joe-"
"It's John, actually," I said.
Culkin shot me an irritated glance, and continued, "-John, whatever, Home Alone was a *movie.* It was all props and stuff, none of it was actually real."
I frowned, "not real?" Realization suddenly dawned on me. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry!"
"*Finally*," Culkin gasped and looked tiredly up to the ceiling.
"You've just forgotten all your tricks. I mean, it has been years since you last did it right, like, what, twenty years? No need to be embarrassed man, it's totally natural to forget things."
Culkin looked at me with narrowed eyes, "you...you can't be serious."
I put my hand on Culkin's shoulder, and he flinched. I continued in my soothing voice, "It's only 3 pm, home invaders don't really come in the day, so we can watch Home Alone 1 & 2, I'm sure it'll come back to you!" I looked at him expectantly, waiting for his excited reaction.
Culkin opened his mouth to say something, then frowned. "I.."
Then he shook his head and walked out the door.
Huh.
Maybe I could call the Wet Bandits? They might know how to deal with things like this. Think like a criminal and all that.
***
(minor edits)
If you liked this and would like to read some serious stuff, check out my new subreddit [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) | 2017-01-13T09:01:11 | 2017-01-13T08:58:23 | 51 | 10 |
[WP] Your home is being invaded, fortunately you are armed with the BEST home defense system available: A 36 year old Macaulay Culkin who's tired of this shit. | *This is really off the cuff and i am not a good creative writer, but for some reason when i saw this WP, this came right into my head, So i had to try and roll with it.*
"Mr. Culkin, We need to be fast. The fastest. Very fast!"
"Its alright i have this, just stay calm."
"They're coming, they're taking our jobs. We could just put lots of obstacles, we know they're lazy."
"That wont work, Mr. President, sir. They aren't as lazy as you believe and they're clever too."
"They're raping our women, they're filling our jails."
"Mr. President, please calm down. I am the best in the business."
"Thats right McCaulay, you're great for business, the greatest. I know a lot of people in the home defense industry. Great people. Lots of great people. But you are by far the greatest."
"Mr. President, we have a problem..."
"What is it?"
"....There's so many of them! Theyre going to be all over the United States within the year! There's only one solution, Mr. President."
"Go on..."
"Mr. President... We need to build a wall."
| "So you're telling me, you knew this was going to happen?"
"Right," I said, nodding, "that bastard Mike had threatened me last night that he was going to come into my house, and, I quote, 'kill you so hard, that you'll die again.'"
Culkin frowned at that, "Die...again?"
I shrugged, "Mike's not the brightest guy, I guess all of it went into his biceps and ego."
"Whatever man," Culkin said, shaking his head, "but my question is, why call me? Like, I don't know, why not call the *fucking police,* you know, whose job it is to deal with stuff like this."
"I mean, you came though," I pointed out.
Culkin exploded out of the chair he was sitting in and loomed in front of me. It would've been sufficiently intimidating, had it not been for his wiry frame and death pale skin. "I thought this was some kind of joke one of my friends set up, and we were going to have a laugh about it and drink or smoke, I didn't expect some god damn lunatic!" Culkin was shouting towards the end.
I held up my hands in a placating gesture, "look man whatever, just me help me get rid of this asshole, and we can all go our separate ways, yeah?"
Culkin started to massage his temples. "Look, Joe-"
"It's John, actually," I said.
Culkin shot me an irritated glance, and continued, "-John, whatever, Home Alone was a *movie.* It was all props and stuff, none of it was actually real."
I frowned, "not real?" Realization suddenly dawned on me. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry!"
"*Finally*," Culkin gasped and looked tiredly up to the ceiling.
"You've just forgotten all your tricks. I mean, it has been years since you last did it right, like, what, twenty years? No need to be embarrassed man, it's totally natural to forget things."
Culkin looked at me with narrowed eyes, "you...you can't be serious."
I put my hand on Culkin's shoulder, and he flinched. I continued in my soothing voice, "It's only 3 pm, home invaders don't really come in the day, so we can watch Home Alone 1 & 2, I'm sure it'll come back to you!" I looked at him expectantly, waiting for his excited reaction.
Culkin opened his mouth to say something, then frowned. "I.."
Then he shook his head and walked out the door.
Huh.
Maybe I could call the Wet Bandits? They might know how to deal with things like this. Think like a criminal and all that.
***
(minor edits)
If you liked this and would like to read some serious stuff, check out my new subreddit [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) | 2017-01-13T09:42:00 | 2017-01-13T08:58:23 | 34 | 10 |
[WP] A race of mages has expanded across the stars to harvest mana by seeding worlds with life. They arrive at a new star then a bright glow envelopes them. What followed are metal obelisks with a humanoid yelling into the void: "That was your warning shot. We will not let you reach Earth." | In the aftermath of The Fall, a galactic empire found itself torn asunder from within. Countless millennia of unchecked growth and careless hedonism had warped the unbreakable and rotted it from the inside. When every conceivable problem had been solved by automation, when immortality was achieved and taken for granted, when obscene magics provided anything that could be desired, there the seeds of a downfall began to take root.
No foe could best their might, no want was out of their reach, no troubles were insurmountable. When life ceased to be a balanced struggle it began to warp for the empire. Insidious cults of pleasure began to grow, promising a worthwhile pursuit of existence in fulfilling each and every desire, no matter the cost. As every new high was reached, the Aeldari grew to crave more and more. Slowly these cults expanded across the stars, seizing power and infesting endless populations. Entire worlds devolved into mindlessly chasing ever-more potent ways to feed their insatiable lusts. Gleaming cities crumbled as their populations delved into depravity, into the unspeakably macabre lives that would consume their every intention in the name of chasing the next high.
So slow was this treacherous rot that the empire did not realize its mistakes until it was much too late. The echoes of the actions plaguing the galaxy began to culminate. In the shadows of the Warp every scream and every drop of blood spilled in the name of excess collected, grew, matured, and eventually awoke.
The Aeldari empire died not with a bang, nor a whimper, but with a shriek. In an instant the galaxy found itself rocked by the force of countless billions of Aeldari souls exploding into the void to the laughter of a newly born God. The epicenter of the corruption, the empire's birthplace and seat of power, collapsed in on itself and blossomed into a profane wound in the fabric of reality. Through the minds of every Aeldari across the great bounds of the galaxy, a clawed hand tore into the souls of the living and dragged them into an insatiable maw. A twisted, daemonic reflection of their ways had come to reap what had been sewn. A name rang through the galaxy with the tones of a race's death knell. Slaanesh.
That was nearly five thousand years ago. Despite the wholesale destruction of their empire, the Aeldari had managed to cling to life. The outcasts who had not succumbed to the pursuit of excess, who had left their homes aboard great Craftworld ships, were the sole survivors of the Fall. Each and every one forever burned with the memories of their race's decline and the guilt of knowing that they are all that remains. Some turned to lives of quiet contemplation, to the hopes of preserving what remained of their shattered culture. Others took shelter where they believed She Who Thirsts could not reach them and continued their hedonistic ways. Still others scoured the stars beyond the ruins of their empire, searching perhaps in vain for a way to restore their race's glory.
Aboard a scouting vessel exploring an arm to the galactic East is a conclave of such individuals. So much had been lost during the Fall that precious few records remained of what might be found on the outskirts of their empire. Tales were whispered of worlds on the far reaches of the galaxy where isolated planets had been seeded with life by Aeldari hands, and optimistic legends spoke of worlds where scattered remnants of Aeldari power might still remain. Most tellingly, whatever echoes of sentience that could be detected drew the wayward spacefairers most readily. This particular expedition had been set in place to track down what had only been described as a beacon of psychic energy in the void of interstellar space. A bright, shining light that cut through the darkness of the Warp and its chaotic storms.
No other race that the Aeldari had encountered could have produced such a beacon. The souls of those privileged to make pilgrimage to the source of this phenomenon soared with the hopes of reuniting with their long-lost brothers.
As the massive wraithbone vessel exited the pan-galactic tunnels of the webway, those attuned to the machinations of the Warp found themselves suddenly bombarded with the force of a psychic power unlike anything they had ever experienced. Although not entirely unknown, as in the deepest memories of their souls the Aeldari remembered a single instance where they had felt such incredible power washing over their minds. The craft navigators erupted into panic, their mouths flung wide and their eyes unable to close from the sheer force of the power flowing through them. A thousand racing minds flashed back to the death of their race and tried in vain to prepare themselves for obliteration. But as they tried to scream, no sound left their throats. At least none that had been intended.
The sounds conjured up the image of a being so vast in power that many of those with weaker or unprepared minds were evaporated by the glow of the golden figure. Throughout the great halls of the vessel and into every corridor and corner, a voice spoke directly into the minds of every individual aboard. It was in a language alien to them, one that they had never encountered, but they understood every word of it with chilling clarity.
#"The space you invade at this moment is yours no longer. We will not allow you bring the witchcraft that doomed your race to our home. *I will not allow it.* Consider this your first and only warning, Eldar. Stand aside or suffer the wrath of the rightful heirs to the galaxy. Deliver this message to the rest of your kind. You will not reach Terra, and you will not stand in our way. So it is decreed by the Emperor of Mankind."
---------------------------------------------------
Hope it's alright that I took a liiiiittle bit of creative liberty with the prompt. And yes, this is a Warhammer 40k thing. It was too fitting for me to avoid! | “They’re not stopping.”
“How can you tell?” Jooahn asked curiously. The image in the rippling mists suspended in the middle of the focusing stones was hard for him to decipher. Not because it was unclear, but because it was simply a strange vessel that seemed to be simply sitting against a field of star speckled blackness.
“I can tell,” Binal said. She was gesturing slowly. Energy trailed from her fingers, into the edges of the mists. Shifting colors and position as she manipulated the currents.
“Maybe they just want to—”
“To what?” the shaman interrupted. “Don’t tell me you’re a doubter now too.”
He scowled, his cheeks reddening a little. “Your fight is with the elders, not me.”
“Now it’s with them too,” she said, nodding at the mists.
“We can wait can’t we?”
“Why would we wait?”
“To see if they’re friendly. Not everyone’s an enemy.”
Binal pulled one of her hands away from the reached out posture she’d been maintaining as she fiddled with the astral mists. Holding it cocked to one side, she flexed those fingers and abruptly a very small mist appeared. Within it appeared a star chart.
“I’ve seen—” Jooahn began, but Binal interrupted.
“Over a dozen stars that I have found. These people, whoever they are, at each,” she said as the chart began winking dots out, one by one; showing stars going out. “You know what it means if they do that here, right?”
“The crops won’t grow.”
“Everything on this world dies,” Binal said, letting the small image fade. She stretched her hand back toward the larger image, and new currents flicked out to connect her fingers with it once more. “Without the light of the sun, there is no life. Not crops, not animals, not us; not anything.”
“I believe you.”
“Good. Because we need to do something.”
“Okay,” Jooahn said with a nod, trying to sound confident. Then, as the seconds went on and the shaman continued studying the astral mist like it was a puzzle problem, he cleared his throat. “Uh, what?”
“Tell the elders they need to call for volunteers.”
“Volunt … no,” the man said, his voice dropping into a horrified whisper.
“There is no other way.”
“Try warning them again.”
“They have ignored it, and the one after as well. I lack the power to reach out to them before they begin draining our sun. It is necessary.”
“Sacrificing hundreds?”
“To save thousands upon thousands,” she said. “Even our enemies. I would propose a raid to seize hostile warriors for this, but I doubt there is time.”
“Binal—”
“Jooahn, do you want to see all our people have worked for perish? What of your son?”
His eyes flicked down to her belly. It had not begun to swell enough to show through her clothes, but the midwives confirmed that she was with child. “So you say.”
“It is a boy. I know.”
“So you say,” he repeated.
“Even if I am wrong, there are other sons. Other daughters. Everyone. When we war, or have war brought upon us, some die that others might live. To save us. This will be a sacrifice, but will save everyone. I might even be able to use it to barter good will with other tribes.”
“They will never believe you.”
“Their shaman might. They understand these things.”
Jooahn sighed. “I will tell the elders to assemble. But you must speak to them.”
* * * * *
The chanting swelled, filling the monument circle. At every stone people knelt, blood dripping from their arms to run down small channels carved out of the ground. The blood flowed toward the stones to pool at the bases. Atop the stones, more stood, holding braziers lit with strangely burning fires. The colored smoke swirled out and mingled with the building energies above the stone tops.
That energy crackled like lightning brought to life. Every shift of the astral currents was like a snap of breaking wood, and beneath those sharper sounds was a steadily increasing hum of ominous power. Jooahn stood a short distance from the outer edge of the focusing circle, watching with others from the tribe. Near him the elders stood, arms folded, scowling as Binal stood in the exact center of the circle with her arms upraised.
All the energy was pouring out of her. Ritual magic flowed from her hands, swelling upward to encircle every stone, and then surge into a swirl above her. Growing. Widening. It had to be soon now, Jooahn knew. Even for as complicated and dangerous as she’d said this ceremony would be, he’d witnessed enough to guess when it—
There was an enormous crack, like the air itself had become angry. The swirl of magic turned into a beam of raw power that shot upward, away from the stones. Beneath the eruption, the chanting turned into screams as the volunteers’ bodies were consumed. Turned to supplying that which was necessary to fuel the spell Binal was directing. They vanished amid violet flames, agonized shadows for an instant before their bodies faded to mere skeletons, and then even their bones came apart and followed the magic upward away from the circle.
The bolt rushed up, piercing the clouds. Outshining even the moon itself. Only when every stone stood alone did the power finally begin to fade. As quickly as it had appeared, it took long moments to coalesce into a thinner and thinner beam before it finally ended. Binal collapsed, panting. Unable to hold back any longer, Jooahn started forward.
He’d made it one step when there was a feedback explosion. Then he found himself on his back, dozens of steps from where he’d been. Sitting up with a pained wince, he saw a number of the stones had been knocked over. Others were simply gone. Frantically he scrambled to his feet. Binal lay where she’d collapsed, and she wasn’t moving.
When he skidded to a stop next to her on his knees, he saw she was breathing. Rolling her over, he slapped at her face urgently. “Binal? Wake up.”
“Did it work?” the chief asked, joining them. He stood looking down at her, ignoring Jooahn entirely.
“Binal?” Jooahn asked, slapping her again.
“Speak shaman.”
“It is done,” she said in a shallow voice.
“You’re alive,” Jooahn said, relieved.
“They are not,” Binal said, opening her eyes. They were bloodshot, and hollowed back in their sockets. But she started trying to sit up.
“You are sure?” the chief asked.
“I am. I felt them perish.”
“So we are safe?”
“For now.”
“Good,” the chief said, and turned.
As he stalked away, Jooahn looked down at his wife. “You are not doing that again.”
“I can’t,” she said as she leaned against him, still sitting. “Not unless I can convince him to rebuild the circle.” She looked at the stones that still stood, her face lined with worry.
“That is a problem for another time. Let me take you back to the hut. So you can rest. In some months our son will join us. Perhaps it can be his concern, if we are lucky.”
“If we are very lucky, it will be many sons hence before they return,” she said, nodding slightly.
* * * * *
I collect all my flash fic [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/DavesWorld/). If you liked this, the others might be interesting too. Enjoy! | 2017-06-05T11:46:20 | 2017-06-05T10:56:15 | 193 | 24 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya | Dear Pop Pop,
I miss you. It's been about 11 or 12 years since you died. I was really young at the time, so all I remember is the last few months you were alive, watching the cancer slowly eat away at your body. With each visit you got more and more frail. I didn't recognize it at the time but looking back, seeing what it was doing to my dad, your son, was almost as bad as watching you. I wish I had more memories of you, more good memories anyway. Mom and dad say you adored me, that you loved me more than life itself, but I'll never know. They tell me stories about you, how you used to take me for rides in your convertible and I loved every minute of it, if only I could remember it. If only I could remember your laugh, your smile, your voice. Sometimes my dad looks at me and says how proud you would be of me, it's hard looking at his face when he says that, I can see the pain in his eyes. I still remember the note I wrote and put in your coffin. It said 'You were a good Pop Pop.' I was a little kid at the time so that's all I could think of to say, but I think it was enough I remember putting it in that little drawer in the side of your coffin to be buried with you. I even remember wearing that Mariachi suit that had been in the family for generations, but I don't remember you. I still have that suit, it's still hanging in my closet. I look at it from time to time, and I try to remember something, anything about you but the frail old man dying of cancer, but I can't. I think my parents are right when they say you would be proud of me, I've had a steady girlfriend for almost 5 years now, her name is Hanna. I think you would like her, she's amazing. I have a steady job too, full time working with dad at the airport. I graduated high school too, two years ago, and now I'm getting ready to go to college. I'm gonna get a business degree and then learn to be an airplane mechanic, and maybe if I'm good enough I'll open my own shop, that's when the business degree is for. Well I have to go now Pop Pop, I've got work in the morning and I need to get to sleep. I miss you. | 2017-11-05T21:44:07 | 2017-11-05T20:37:15 | 1,462 | 16 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | I miss you big guy.
I miss the your terrible jokes and the attempts at accents that wound up sounding exactly the same no matter the country of origin.
I miss the quiet but fierce love of your family you had.
Most of all I miss the real dad, not the husk you became in the years leading up to your death.
I miss my belly laughing, bird loving, tinkering, absent minded dad.
I miss my dad that would always drop everything with a resigned but knowing grin to help me out of my latest batch of troublemaking.
Don't miss your cooking though :P
Miss ya big guy | Dear Pop Pop,
I miss you. It's been about 11 or 12 years since you died. I was really young at the time, so all I remember is the last few months you were alive, watching the cancer slowly eat away at your body. With each visit you got more and more frail. I didn't recognize it at the time but looking back, seeing what it was doing to my dad, your son, was almost as bad as watching you. I wish I had more memories of you, more good memories anyway. Mom and dad say you adored me, that you loved me more than life itself, but I'll never know. They tell me stories about you, how you used to take me for rides in your convertible and I loved every minute of it, if only I could remember it. If only I could remember your laugh, your smile, your voice. Sometimes my dad looks at me and says how proud you would be of me, it's hard looking at his face when he says that, I can see the pain in his eyes. I still remember the note I wrote and put in your coffin. It said 'You were a good Pop Pop.' I was a little kid at the time so that's all I could think of to say, but I think it was enough I remember putting it in that little drawer in the side of your coffin to be buried with you. I even remember wearing that Mariachi suit that had been in the family for generations, but I don't remember you. I still have that suit, it's still hanging in my closet. I look at it from time to time, and I try to remember something, anything about you but the frail old man dying of cancer, but I can't. I think my parents are right when they say you would be proud of me, I've had a steady girlfriend for almost 5 years now, her name is Hanna. I think you would like her, she's amazing. I have a steady job too, full time working with dad at the airport. I graduated high school too, two years ago, and now I'm getting ready to go to college. I'm gonna get a business degree and then learn to be an airplane mechanic, and maybe if I'm good enough I'll open my own shop, that's when the business degree is for. Well I have to go now Pop Pop, I've got work in the morning and I need to get to sleep. I miss you. | 2017-11-05T22:27:41 | 2017-11-05T20:37:15 | 102 | 16 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Hey Scott.
I guess I took everything you did for granted. It's been really hard without you here. Your daughter still asks when you're coming to pick her up and she always gets sad when I explain to her that you can't.
She really loves you and you were a good father. She started listening to one of the books you recorded. Hearing your voice always makes her so happy. She follows along in the book like you remind her to every chapter. It's hard. I burst into tears when I heard you sound out a word you knew she'd have trouble with.
We miss you. I hope where ever you are you're not in pain anymore. | Not sure if this is more because this is what I want to tell you or what but here goes.
When I first came to this school. You where basically my first friend which then led me to becoming friends with a lot of people. However there was one person In particular I liked, a lot. One who gave me emotions I had never felt before and feelings I didn't know I had. However I didn't know much about who you liked or what your dating/romance history was and you should have told me sooner, because if only I had knew. I always had a single rule when it came to my friends and liking someone, If you've known them longer or liked them for longer than I have, i won't get in your way. She's all yours. But instead you told me you didn't like anyone, including her and so I fell, further than I ever thought I could. I tried my best to do things I've never done before, I tried my best to hide my emotions to everyone but you. But then she started to show affection for you and so did you, with or without realising it. I don't know. You kept reassuring me that you were just friends, even when everyone else told me to give up and not bother trying. But then... Then I told you about the other girl I like, not even a quarter as much though, because I could actually talk to her and do stuff with her, unlike the other. So I told you and trusted you with this just to get what I did back. You had liked her for much much longer, everything you had reassured me with, as obvious as it was, was a lie. The thing is, I know why you did this, because you told me. You didn't want to hurt me and you didn't, you never could. How could someone's best friend hurt them after all? But now after I've fallen so much and learnt all these new things, I did exactly what I said I would. I stepped back, I let you go for her and now, well soon... You'll be happy together. But now here I am, in the background as always, watching with all those feelings that do nothing but make me cry. Of course I'm happy for you, you got, not only the girl but each other. The one the other loves. But you kept one thing from me, something I know caused you pain. Watching as I tried, tried and failed. And now this, this I will keep from you, from everyone we know for no one to see but me. Ever.
I'm sorry. | 2017-11-05T23:19:05 | 2017-11-05T22:02:40 | 58 | 18 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Elizabeth
I never really knew you, but I'll never forget you. I see your face every time I'm alone in my car, and it always brings me to tears. I want you to know that I tried so hard to save you. I tried everything I could. I'm sorry your parents had to see what we did to you. I'm sorry they had to see the tubes sticking out of your throat and the needles I drilled into your bones. When I realized in the back of the ambulance that we weren't going to get you back no matter what we did, it nearly broke me. I'm so sorry for what happened to you.
- the paramedic who tried to save you
#2321 | Not sure if this is more because this is what I want to tell you or what but here goes.
When I first came to this school. You where basically my first friend which then led me to becoming friends with a lot of people. However there was one person In particular I liked, a lot. One who gave me emotions I had never felt before and feelings I didn't know I had. However I didn't know much about who you liked or what your dating/romance history was and you should have told me sooner, because if only I had knew. I always had a single rule when it came to my friends and liking someone, If you've known them longer or liked them for longer than I have, i won't get in your way. She's all yours. But instead you told me you didn't like anyone, including her and so I fell, further than I ever thought I could. I tried my best to do things I've never done before, I tried my best to hide my emotions to everyone but you. But then she started to show affection for you and so did you, with or without realising it. I don't know. You kept reassuring me that you were just friends, even when everyone else told me to give up and not bother trying. But then... Then I told you about the other girl I like, not even a quarter as much though, because I could actually talk to her and do stuff with her, unlike the other. So I told you and trusted you with this just to get what I did back. You had liked her for much much longer, everything you had reassured me with, as obvious as it was, was a lie. The thing is, I know why you did this, because you told me. You didn't want to hurt me and you didn't, you never could. How could someone's best friend hurt them after all? But now after I've fallen so much and learnt all these new things, I did exactly what I said I would. I stepped back, I let you go for her and now, well soon... You'll be happy together. But now here I am, in the background as always, watching with all those feelings that do nothing but make me cry. Of course I'm happy for you, you got, not only the girl but each other. The one the other loves. But you kept one thing from me, something I know caused you pain. Watching as I tried, tried and failed. And now this, this I will keep from you, from everyone we know for no one to see but me. Ever.
I'm sorry. | 2017-11-06T02:41:21 | 2017-11-05T22:02:40 | 27 | 18 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Elizabeth
I never really knew you, but I'll never forget you. I see your face every time I'm alone in my car, and it always brings me to tears. I want you to know that I tried so hard to save you. I tried everything I could. I'm sorry your parents had to see what we did to you. I'm sorry they had to see the tubes sticking out of your throat and the needles I drilled into your bones. When I realized in the back of the ambulance that we weren't going to get you back no matter what we did, it nearly broke me. I'm so sorry for what happened to you.
- the paramedic who tried to save you
#2321 | Dear Jenna
I'm so sorry my friends lied to me about how they felt about you to spare me. I was blindly in love with you, but they hated everything about you. Even with my awful anger problems I never got mad at you. They saw how you treated me but I didn't think it was awful. No matter what I loved every second I spent with you. You were my heart and soul and the only reason I survived those 4 years.
Then you met him and we had our first fight. In the skinny thats what led to me leaving though I said I never would the same day I told you I love you. I guess we both lied. I wanted so bad for that to not be my reasoning but I think about it every day and every night. Two years later I know it was him that drove me to the edge, and off just as quickly.
Then you lie to me again. You stay at my house, our party, our one weekend home from college. You say you want to stay the night but the messages you accidentally sent to the wrong chat say differently. You insult my friendship with other people because your other friends don't like them though you said I was your best friend. I lost it, in my anger I called you out without thinking. I didnt calm down for the month it took for you to talk to me again instead of trying to tell my friends how awful I was to you. Then I backed out and said I wanted to leave, you tried to get me to talk but I just couldnt do it again.
2 years later I've thought about you every day. I live with my girlfriend and I think I want to marry her. I have my same friends except for The ones that crawled back to you once you batted your eyelashes at them again. I have a better job as a dropout than I would have ever gotten with a degree from the college you convinced me to go to.
You chose a man who pretended to be from a different state, with a fake accent, and a fake name who left as soon as he found out you wouldnt sleep with him. You chose to blend in with your new friends rather than defend our mutual ones. You chose to trash me to every one you knew and even have your mother talk about a restraining order when we hadn't seen, talked, or been in the same city for months.
I still love you.
I still miss you.
You are still the one that got away.
But I found a new one and I want to move on.
I hope this is goodbye. Goodnight.
| 2017-11-06T02:41:21 | 2017-11-06T01:13:39 | 27 | 12 |
[WP] You are a 20 yr. old who just inherited a haunted house from a recently deceased relative. You now live with 7 demons who portray the seven deadly sins. Each just wants to help you get back on your feet.
Edit: u/FingerBangYourFears is the true OP. https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6jqao8/wp_a_depressed_guy_moves_into_a_haunted_house/?utm_source=reddit-android | I stood in front of the old and tarnished mirror. "You can do this," I muttered under my breath. "You got this." I tugged on the bottom of my suit jacket to straighten it. The shoulders just wouldn't sit right. "It's just an interview."
"You will be great!" Pride appeared behind me and slapped me on the back. I stumbled forward half a step. "Remember, be proud of what you have done! It shows confidence, and employers like confident people!" He patted my shoulder a few times, winked at his reflection, and walked out of the bathroom.
"Right, confident," I muttered to my reflection as I brushed at a few stray strands of hair.
"Remember, they're human just as you are," Lust told me as she slunk out of the closet. "They have wants and desires. Not so uptight, love." She knocked my hands away and undid the first button of my shirt, then brushed my hair into a playful swoop. "Be relatable. Make them desire you, as a person." She paused. "Professionally, of course."
"Confident and relatable," I repeated. "Thanks."
"Good luck, love." Lust blew me a kiss and vanished.
Gluttony was lounging on my bed when I walked out of the bathroom. She slid off the bed and followed me into the hall. "Don't ask too much," Gluttony cautioned. "Don't want them to think you've got too much of me in you. But ask for what you deserve."
"How do I know whats enough but not too much?" I asked. She shrugged and left me at the top of the stairs to the ground floor, probably slinking off to find something shiny. "Helpful."
Greed hopped onto my shoulder as I started down the stairs. "You want them to think that you want it," he croaked in my ear, then tugged at my earring until I swatted at him. "Just a touch greedy. Then they know you'll work hard."
"Greedy for work, or for money?" I asked as I walked into the kitchen.
"Both," Greed cackled.
Wrath was looming over the stove. He waved for me to sit at the table, then brought over a steaming plate of breakfast. "Let them see that you have fire," he softly bellowed at me as he brushed off the apron he was wearing. "Fire and spirit! Then they will know that you will do battle for them. *Corporate battle!*" His shout shook the ceiling. I quickly held a napkin over the plate to keep the dust off of it. There wasn't that much, since most of it had already been knocked down.
"Thanks," I said as I tucked into the breakfast.
Envy was already sitting across from me. "Do shut up," she said to Wrath before turning her gaze on me. "Make sure they know your skills," she told me, her eyes locked on my bacon. I silently offered her a piece. "When the bosses go to make the final decision, you want them to be jealous at the thought of another company hiring you."
"That's a little abstract," I said. I glanced at my watch, then pushed the rest of the plate across the table. Envy snatched it up. "But I'll see what I can do."
Pride was standing by the door to hand me my portfolio folder and wish me luck. I was just passing the door frame when someone called out from the living room.
"Hey!" Sloth shouted again from his place on the couch. "Uh..... don't be me, I guess."
I blinked at him. "That's terrible advice."
"Yeah, I didn't put much thought into it," he said, then scratched at a floppy ear.
I walked out to my car, then glanced back at the old house. Even if the interviewer didn't like me, I had the seven deadly sins rooting for me.
That had to count for something. | It was early evening when I walked into the living-room of my freshly-inherited home, listening to the Uber driver pull out of the driveway, and dropped my bags. All I had brought was two duffel bags and the backpack with my third-hand netbook in it. It was all my $20 bus ticket would get half-way up the east coast. I knew from the lawyer's letter that this place had utilities paid through the end of the year, and Internet service as well. It was better than the couch-surfing I'd been doing since the 'rents kicked me out of the house at eighteen. Serves me right for 'flaunting my perversions' under their roof.
I canceled that train of thought before it could leave the station. There was nothing remotely productive about that line of reasoning. The letter had said that everything left in the house was mine now. I felt kind of ashamed about the way I was appraising everything I saw in terms of resale value, but I didn't have a lot of options. I intended to sell the house as well, but apparently there were a lot of legal hoops to jump through before I could do that, and I also didn't know a damned thing about the real-estate market. I'd need to find a local real-estate agent soon, so I didn't get completely shafted on the value of the place. Until then, I owned the place outright and it beat the hell out of being homeless. Even if you have enough friends to lean on that you're not on the streets, my fellow rural southern millennials aren't rolling in dough, or likely to have houses with spare rooms or guest accomodations. I'd been sleeping on couches and living-room floors, or in my car. Until I'd had to sell it, because I could not afford the upkeep.
I left my clothes, and my computer, and all the rest of my worldly possessions in a heap on the floor, and wandered around the house, trying to acquaint myself with it and making note of all of the necessities and amenities. Here is the kitchen, stocked with mismatched plates and silverware. There is the bathroom, half a roll of toilet paper still on the holder. Here is the bedroom... hold on a minute. I noticed that the ceiling was mirrored, and realized that I was learning things about uncle Davan that I had not intended to learn. We'd never been particularly close (not after a huge falling out with mom and dad when I was about nine), and this peephole into his sex life seemed uncomfortably intimate for an family member who was also, in practical terms, a stranger.
Given the distance between us, both geographically and emotionally, it might seem strange that he left me the house. I understood it though. He did it out of spite. To piss off his brother, my father, because he'd know we were on the outs, and the enemy of his enemy was his friend. Or his niece, in this case. Having learned the floor-plan, I retrieved my bags and stuffed them into the closet without unpacking. The habits of two years of transient living die hard. What the hell, it's not like I had a job to go to, no interviews lined up, no real reason not to wrinkle the clothes. I dragged a jar of peanut-butter out of my backpack (the only food I'd brought with me), ate some straight out of the jar with my fingers for 'dinner', then went to get a shower.
I crashed in the huge four-poster bed as soon as I was clean. I fell asleep to the sounds of the anxiety-weasels in my mind gnawing over the mountain of credit-card and student debt I'd managed to accrue in my failed experiment with independence. I slept, and dreamed of financial solvency.
I awoke in the morning to the sound of clothes rustling. Dragging my unwilling brain to consciousness, I saw a tall, blandly attractive man with tiny horns on his forehead standing at the close door. He was pulling out each item of clothing out of the bag, shaking such wrinkles out of it that he could, and hanging it on a hanger.
I was nonplussed, to say the least, to find a strange man in my bedroom. "Whuug??" I asked him, articulately. He looked at me over his shoulder, appearing a little sad. "Dear me, Melissa, appearances matter. You never know when an opportunity is going to present itself, so you should always take a little pride in your appearance."
I swore at him, and started to throw off the covers to run him out of the room, until I remembered that my pajamas weren't exactly concealing. The man saw me freeze and smiled, "Don't worry Melissa. I'm not here to harm you. None of us are."
I looked questioningly at him, upset by the additional questions raised by the pronoun 'us'.
He laughed, "I am Pride. These are my siblings - Lust, Wrath, Sloth, Gluttony, Avarice, and Envy." As he spoke each name, anotherr form faded into being around the bed: a tall, beautiful woman with black glossy eyes, an enormously muscular man with bulging veins around his face and neck, a sad tired-looking creature that slumped on the floor, a grossly fat humanoid with a mouth like a shark, a tall man in a business suit with golden nails and eyes, and a woman who looked a lot like me with eyes so green they nearly glowed. Pride continued, "We were friends of your uncle. Now we will be friends of his niece." | 2018-02-08T18:10:22 | 2018-02-08T18:07:36 | 82 | 16 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | "I... admit that I am not familiar with that particular game," Death said, hesitantly. "What are the rules?"
He sat in his bed, smiling to himself. He had become an old man, but his spirit was alive and well. "Oh, nothing too complicated," he replied. "In order to set it up, we will need certain materials: a ball, some wickets, and a couple of flags. We'll also need a wooded field on which to play."
With a wave of his hand, Death brought them to a field, with all the requirements that had been set. It was clear to Death that this was a physical test of some variety, and he was beginning to become nervous. Why would an eighty year old man choose to compete in a sporting event, with his life on the line?
"Alright," said the man. "Let's set up the wickets, and we each choose a flag. Then, we play!"
"I begin to find this tiresome," responded Death. "You will explain it to me now. How do I win? What are the rules of this 'Calvinball'?" | "Does everyone get a chance like this?" I asked
"No" Death said as it puled a scale from underneath it's cloth. "Only those whose good deeds outhweight the bad ones".
The scale was empty yet tilted to one side, ever so slightly. "Seems you barely earned it."
No surprises there, I kinda just passed through life minding my own business, occasionally helping someone just to feel better about myself.
"Let's play Chess then" I decided. Neither of us can cheat in that game, besides Death is probably the better cheater.
"A wise call" Death smiled pulling a beautiful ebony board from his robes. "I think black suits me better" it said and gave me the white pieces.
"So... How long have you been here... I mean, doing this job" I move a pawn.
"Since the birth of the universe... and till the end of it" Death blocks my pawn.
"Do you work for God, or the Devil?" I ask and move.
"I am God... And the Devil" he mimics my move again.
"Does that mean..." I couldn't finish the sentence, but made a move.
"Yes, there is no heaven, and there is no hell, only nothingness one isn't even aware of" he answered and ate my pawn.
"I suddenly really want to win..." I said and ate his.
"You might" Death said with odd grin on it's face. He solidified his defence.
"Did you ever lose?" I asked and made a threat.
"Oh, a few times... But rarely in chess" he fills the gap in his defence.
"So... What is the meaning of life?" I ate a pawn.
"Death... Or rather, the fear of it" he ate back.
"I see... Well, you aren't really that scarry" I eat back.
"People fear what they do not know, so now you have nothing to fear anymore" he ate again.
"Does it get lonely?" I said and ate again "Check."
"No, I met everyone that ever was and I will greet everyone that will be". Death blocks the Check with another pawn.
"If I win, I won't remember this, right?" I attack from a different angle, check.
"You might remember fragments, something else entirely, or nothing at all" Death moves, eats the attacker. "That is, if you win, check"
"Do dogs get a chance like this?" I block the attack with a pawn.
"Yes, but they always lose, cats on the other hand..." He ate the defender. "Check"
"Once I win, do I get exactly 10 years or at least 10? Also, can I get 10 more next time?" I eat his attacker.
"At least 10 and yes, if you remain good. But it doesn't look like you will win this one" he attacked from a different angle "Check".
"Looks can be decieving" I move a figure, eat his attacker "Check"
"They truly can be" he moves "Checkmate".
| 2018-03-07T08:28:53 | 2018-03-07T07:49:29 | 65 | 24 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | "...Do video games count?", I ask the death man. He actually looked like a very normal guy, just wearing black clothing.
"...Sure. Just nothing single player."
"Or, we could make our own game out of a game."
"...What?"
"We both get computers. We mod Skyrim with the same mods and same load order. We continuously play through until the game crashes. Whoever ends up with a crashed game first loses. Freezing does not count, and the game must crash. No staying in the main menu or waiting in a house. You must play through normally as you can with mods."
Death looks at me. "...I have a better idea."
"Yes?"
"We play vanilla Skyrim. Whoever runs into a glitch first loses, and you must play through normally."
I grin. "You are a goddamn genius."
"My idea... It just works."
"Guaranteed to happen, because Bethesda."
And we play through the game. Unfortunately, death gets some glitchy horses in the intro.
"...Goddamnit. You win."
The horses in my game also start freaking out like, a second later.
"What a beautiful game, Bethesda." | "Does everyone get a chance like this?" I asked
"No" Death said as it puled a scale from underneath it's cloth. "Only those whose good deeds outhweight the bad ones".
The scale was empty yet tilted to one side, ever so slightly. "Seems you barely earned it."
No surprises there, I kinda just passed through life minding my own business, occasionally helping someone just to feel better about myself.
"Let's play Chess then" I decided. Neither of us can cheat in that game, besides Death is probably the better cheater.
"A wise call" Death smiled pulling a beautiful ebony board from his robes. "I think black suits me better" it said and gave me the white pieces.
"So... How long have you been here... I mean, doing this job" I move a pawn.
"Since the birth of the universe... and till the end of it" Death blocks my pawn.
"Do you work for God, or the Devil?" I ask and move.
"I am God... And the Devil" he mimics my move again.
"Does that mean..." I couldn't finish the sentence, but made a move.
"Yes, there is no heaven, and there is no hell, only nothingness one isn't even aware of" he answered and ate my pawn.
"I suddenly really want to win..." I said and ate his.
"You might" Death said with odd grin on it's face. He solidified his defence.
"Did you ever lose?" I asked and made a threat.
"Oh, a few times... But rarely in chess" he fills the gap in his defence.
"So... What is the meaning of life?" I ate a pawn.
"Death... Or rather, the fear of it" he ate back.
"I see... Well, you aren't really that scarry" I eat back.
"People fear what they do not know, so now you have nothing to fear anymore" he ate again.
"Does it get lonely?" I said and ate again "Check."
"No, I met everyone that ever was and I will greet everyone that will be". Death blocks the Check with another pawn.
"If I win, I won't remember this, right?" I attack from a different angle, check.
"You might remember fragments, something else entirely, or nothing at all" Death moves, eats the attacker. "That is, if you win, check"
"Do dogs get a chance like this?" I block the attack with a pawn.
"Yes, but they always lose, cats on the other hand..." He ate the defender. "Check"
"Once I win, do I get exactly 10 years or at least 10? Also, can I get 10 more next time?" I eat his attacker.
"At least 10 and yes, if you remain good. But it doesn't look like you will win this one" he attacked from a different angle "Check".
"Looks can be decieving" I move a figure, eat his attacker "Check"
"They truly can be" he moves "Checkmate".
| 2018-03-07T09:08:29 | 2018-03-07T07:49:29 | 39 | 24 |
[WP] An alien has kidnapped Matt Damon, not knowing what lengths humanity goes through to retrieve him whenever he goes missing. | "We're receiving a transmission from Earth. It's about the human specimen we harvested for examination."
"Send it to the bridge. Let's see what they have to say."
*I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want. If you are looking for ransom, I can tell you I don't have money. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills, skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you...*
"End the transmission. Send the Earthling back, and prepare for hyperspace. We are getting the fuck outta here" | The revelation that struck the world was three-fold. First, that Aliens existed and we were not alone in the universe. Second, that they had already taken an interest in us and we were powerless to prevent them from interfering in our lives. Third, that the poster-child for international and interplanetary adventure had been stolen away from us. This. Could. Not. Stand!
The Bring Him Home Movement didn't necessarily instill world peace but it did instigate a new level of international cooperation and funding, the likes of which had never been seen. In a little over a year, outposts had been set up on the Moon and Mars.
Humanity had a long way to go to get their man back.
SETI had finally parsed alien communications from the cosmic microwave background and they were narrowing down a direction for the Invaders. CIA and Bletchly Park cryptographers had the signal about 50% decrypted.
Blackbriar was reinstated with a focus on training interstellar operatives. NASA had developed a theoretical framework for breaking the speed of light.
Ten years later the Sol system was unrecognizable. The intelligence gained from tapping into the galactic internet had pushed humanity forward ten thousand years. Dozens of planetoids and moons were swarmed by darting ships.
Strangely, many large vessels were surrounding the planet Jupiter. A short time later it disappeared, replaced by an ship-sized visual disturbance in space. They had created a warp gate that could take them anywhere in the Galaxy. Humanity had broken free.
*Somewhere in the Norma Arm of the Milky Way*
Matt Damon woke up to another day. Being abducted by aliens wasn't nearly as exciting as one would think. After being used as a traveling exhibit by that disgusting cockroach, Kim Jung-il, he had managed to break out on his own and landed himself in "galactic Hollywood". He currently starred in the galactically acclaimed soap opera "Good Monkeys Hunting". It was about a monkey who could solve mathematically-centered murder cases. They were in their seventh season, and all things considered, life had gotten routine. And that's how it happened that he was commuting to the studio when what appeared to be a star destroyer appeared in orbit.
The races of the Galaxy now refer to that day as D-Day (for Damon day, duh). It was the day they lost their favorite monkey star and humanity began their unstoppable march across the Galaxy. | 2018-06-06T16:07:37 | 2018-06-06T15:17:56 | 365 | 35 |
[WP] An alien has kidnapped Matt Damon, not knowing what lengths humanity goes through to retrieve him whenever he goes missing. | They burned the stars from the sky. They tore worlds asunder. The great plague of man spread from system to system grinding the Seven Celestial Empires into dust. All for one man, The Damon.
The Korlanth found them on a backwater planet known as Earth. Foolish and headstrong as ever, their wisdom faltered against their never-ending quest for new slaves. Humans, they were called, were weak but clever. They bred fast and adapted well to almost every inch of their chaotic world. Had the Korlanth stopped for a moment, they would have realized those very traits would be their undoing. Our undoing.
It was a matter of weeks but the humans were conquered. They didn't stay that way. Humans had an endless experience with war amongst themselves. They had a boundless imagination that we could never comprehend. They had hundreds of stories on how to deal with an alien oppressor; most far more insidious than we could ever be.
Their leader, Damon, organized and defeated the Korlanth, casting off their oppressors as a Jharnar casts off its skin. Decimated, the Korlanth made a hasty retreat, abandoning much of their arms and ships, but stealing The Damon in spite.
That was a mistake.
The Humans learned. They adapted.
They hunted. They fought. They spread.
There are now but seven piles of ash to mark our graves.
Humans.
They burned the stars from the sky. They tore worlds asunder.
And they got their Matt Damon back. | “And honestly, you don’t even really get that nauseous after the fourth or fifth time,” Captain Zerk explained, passing paper towels to Matt Damon.
Suddenly, a bright flash of light\-\-a ship appears behind theirs.
“What in the\-\-?”
“Incoming message, Commander Zerk,” chimes the ship’s command station.
Zerk waves his hand impatiently, and the message plays.
“Hello *XPS412*, this is *Red Hawk*. This is your first warning\-\-return Damon to us unharmed or we will be forced to take action.”
Zerk appears confused. He presses a button and begins dictating a response.
“Hello *Red Hawk*. It was my understanding that with the Earth’s increasingly depleted resources, lightspeed travel has become prohibitively expensive. How are you funding this expedition?”
Zerk waits patiently for a response, looking questioningly at Matt Damon. Damon shrugs, still wiping vomit from his shirt.
“Incoming message, Commander Ze\-”
“Yeah, yeah, ok play it.”
The command station beeps huffily, and the message plays after a staticky pause.
“...That is irrelevant. Return Damon to us unharmed or we will be forced to take action.”
Zerk shrugs. He presses a button on the command station, and light speed travel is initiated once more. Matt Damon hurls as a white light engulfs *XPS412*.
When the ship slows down, Zerk looks around. Nothing around for light years. He smiles, wondering if he will be knighted once he gifts Damon to the Grand Chancellor. Collecting Earth celebrities has become something of a hobby among the galaxy’s elite, who especially love action movies.
A bright flash of light once more.
“What the f\-\-”
“*XPS412*\-\-this is your last warning! Return Damon to us unharmed or we will capsize you. We have an elite attack squad currently crawling around the bottom of your ship, they have been instructed to enter and destroy until Damon has been returned.”
Zerk has already begun responding.
“**Two** light speed jumps?? Aren't you guys in the most debt in the entire\-\-”
A loud bang is heard by all as an explosion goes off somewhere along the underbelly of the ship. Damon looks apologetically at Zerk.
Zerk is about to say something when another explosion goes off, this time accompanied by the activation of the ship’s emergency lights.
“OKAY! Okay okay, *Red Hawk*, look, I’m returning Matt Damon. Alright? Get your squad off my boat so I can enable repair drones.”
Zerk turns off the mic and resentfully removes the magnetic cuffs around Matt Damon’s ankles.
“I don’t want to be a dick but *The Martian* wasn’t even that good, I don’t get why you’re such a big deal,” Zerk mutters.
He turns on the mic one last time.
“*Red Hawk*, I’m sending Damon back to Earth now. I hope whatever you sold was worth it.”
A long pause.
“Send him to the ship.”
“What, why? I can just beam him to Earth right\-\-”
“SEND HIM TO THE SHIP.”
Zerk's face goes slack, he finally understands.
“We are nothing without him,” the radio says, before going silent one last time. | 2018-06-06T15:09:44 | 2018-06-06T15:07:45 | 96 | 53 |
[WP] You are a king, with the greatest army of swordsmen in the world. Men bend to your will. But there's trouble brewing in kingdoms to the east. Tales of men who blend with the trees, who fight with weapons that crack like thunder, and of knights massacred, with only lumps of iron in their skin. | "Perhaps your men are simply mistaken."
"They know much better than to embellish tales of their defeat."
"But my King, the messages that come from the East resemble folk tales. Blending in with trees? Wielding thunder? Arrows that resemble iron ingots? What are we dealing with, sorcery?"
"That is a possibility."
"My King, it is far more likely that your men were ambushed by the natives. It has happened before-"
"But not like this!"
I gestured to the body of one of my finest commanders, a festering hole adorning his forehead as a third eye. His breastplate, forged from the strongest steel alloy and virtually impenetrable, resembled poorly crafted chainmail with the amount of holes riddling its surface.
I had overseen many campaigns during my rule. Some were against formidable desert armies who rode elephants. Some were through dense jungles with tribes that drank blood and used clubs lined with black glass. Some were in the midst of icy waters, fighting monsters who resembled bears more than men. Yet in all that time, I had never seen injuries as horrific as these.
My advisor cleared his throat. "Anyhow, my King, our army should crush whatever natives who dare oppose us. Our military might is unmatched."
That was true. My nation boasted the finest soldiers in all of the known world, along with the best blacksmiths who could forge blades worthy of the gods themselves. It was these men who had allowed my empire to grow. It was these men who were the symbol of peace, prosperity and power. It was these men who now were sending pleas for help, whose ranks were being decimated by an unknown force.
I turned back to look at the commander's body. His sword lay within its sheath, untouched. Whatever enemy had slaughtered this regiment clearly did not value our legendary weaponry, which led to a sobering realisation.
Perhaps they did not need it.
"How much time do you estimate my men having?"
My advisor stilled for a moment. "Assuming that these accounts of, witchcraft, are to be believed-"
"How much."
He sighed. "Days at best. We are getting more ravens as we speak."
I lowered myself onto the throne, the commander's body in full focus in the middle of the court. Days. How many men would be killed in mere days? The image of entire armies littering a field, sporting identical wounds to the commander, floated into my mind.
Perhaps a more diplomatic solution would be in order. After all, they clearly had some semblance of a strong military with weaponry that was clearly... strange.
No.
Even the mere thought of negotiating disgusted me. These savages dared to challenge the might of the strongest empire in known history. They had the gall to provoke the largest army of the known lands by massacring my men. They may have deluded themselves into overestimating their own strength with their weapons, but they would to be put down like the dogs they were.
I would raze their land to ashes.
My advisor retreated as I rose.
It was time to ride east. | The sun rose like any other day. Bright and new and glorious.
With this new day did I then hear of the news.
"Sire! There's word of a mysterious new kingdom forming in the south." Solen, my advisor, was excited, not every day is a new kingdom born. "Soon we can make allies with them, of course if that's to be your wish." He bowed to me.
"Is there any solid truth to these claims?"
"I'm sorry, sire, but only rumors. However, from many travelers we hear they hold new technology never seen before." He grinning ear to ear.
My ears perked when I heard this. "Send a messenger at once. I wish to know if these rumors are true."
Solen raced out immediately. He stopped by the door to bow and then I could hear him yelling for a good runner.
-----------------------
A few weeks later and messengers come and gone, they say that all we heard was true and then some.
Knights could blend in with the foliage with armor so light a boy could wear it.
Their bows were oddly shaped, highly accurate and cracked like thunder on stone.
Lastly, their horses were made of metal and roared like dragons.
This was news, not great news, but news none the less. Their kingdom was small but well equipped and well prepared.
Any attempt at alliance was denied. This wasn't good at all.
"I wish they would reconsider, despite our kingdom only being only slightly bigger we have so much to offer." Solen was displeased, we were unable to ally with Pola Nam, the fledgling kingdom. "Perhaps if we send more gifts?"
"No, Pola Nam means to go to war, ready the troops. We'll need to call for reinforcements from our neighboring countries."
"How can you be so sure sire?" No war has been declared since the 100 year war, which reshaped the known world as we know it now.
"They hold technology that could certainly only be considered magic and are the only country to know its secret. So why not demonstrate the might of your country against another." This was grave thinking but it will soon be the truth.
-----------------------
The armies, 35,000 strong, met at the most southern central point. A forest blocks our two kingdoms. We built a wooden wall and battlements. Seige elements and ballistas were placed and armed.
I held in camp in the midst with my armor, sword and bow ready.
Word had it Pola Nam had readied its troops and were making a march to take my kingdom.
We waited for hours. My men started to believe no one was coming. With archers placed anywhere we could, we would know.
It was all quiet at mid day when we heard a sharp crack. A man fell front the wall, dead before he hit the ground. The war had begun.
More shots were fired. More men fell but no arrows fired. The archers were unable to see the enemy in the trees.
"Ready... aim... fire!" The wall captains yelled but the men could not see a target so they fired wildly into the brush. The seige engines fired in suit but the dense tree line made it impossible to hit anything.
Soon after, the light armored men ran from the trees in their metal horses launching their own shots but these were large and impacted hard.
By this point I was at the front with the rest of the men. "They wish to remove our kingdom from this world and pave over the remains with their own. We must not let them stand, and let them kill our families. We will hold the front till the last man if we must. They may have better weapons but we have the heart and the strength that they don't." I was trying to work the men and get their blood pumping but I fear I could have fallen flat, I was never good at speeches.
"Now get ready men! Charge!" I yelled as I ran with the knights on my stead.
The archers launched volleys of arrows on the enemy but only a small portion killed a man.
Their numbers were smaller than ours but they could take more of our men than we could of thiers.
As we ran forward, man after man fell to their fire cracking bows. Full plated armor was no match for their weapons, it was as if we were wearing paper.
Finally, we were close enough to initiate actual combat when something happened. The ground beneath my horse expanded and ripped its legs to shreds. I was flipped over and landed next to my dying stead.
I brought myself up and grabbed my bow. I loosed an arrow and struck a man in the chest but he still stood. How could their cloth armor hold back an arrow from so close.
I finally stopped and took in the battlefield and noticed my 35,000 men was down to almost nothing in a mere hours time. The battle was surely lost.
I had failed, if only my father could see me now. With only 10 years under my belt I failed and my kingdom was to fall. I hope they enjoy killing as much as they seem to now. | 2019-02-01T20:41:22 | 2019-02-01T18:43:46 | 23 | 12 |
[WP] The current rulers of the galaxy exert their dominance by showing showing new races a glimpse of their terrifying nature inevitably either driving the unfortunate victims mad or causing them to retreat in fear. It does not work on humans however, they are used to it | Life had a unifying feature.
It didn't matter if your species evolved in the oceans of a moon on a gas giant, or in the crevices of a planet tidal-locked with its star, it will always have one critical trait:
Fear.
Fear is what keeps species in check, what ensures that they don't kill themselves in foolish endeavors. Fear is the power that allows a civilization to grow and become stronger; fear of one's neighbor, fear of hunger, fear of poverty, fear of sickness, fear of death. Fear ensures that nuclear weapons aren't used to bring about their own apocalypse, that antimatter reactors have proper safeguards and never too much fuel, that interstellar travel is strictly regulated and properly defended.
And it is fear that we have conquered. Our species, the self-proclaimed Forebearers, were the first and most magnificent of races. When we stretched our hands out to the cosmos, we found a fledgling universe, filled with potential, yet without any to protect them. As we marched forward, we claimed civilization after civilization under our banner, showing them the dark futures that existed, and the safety of life within our control. As our technology advanced, those civilizations under us were provided greater shelter and safety and comfort, and reminded how steep the fall from our graces was.
Our control of fear allowed us to expand to over a quarter of the galactic arm. We had mastered it, mastered the ability to instill fear and terror and show species the better way. Our way.
Until we met them. Humanity, they called themselves. One of millions of species on their planet, they were the sole species that could begin to understand the universal truths. They'd expanded to their moon and their nearby planets, inhospitable as they were. Still primitive by all accounts, they held promise to become the next in line to join our ranks.
Except they didn't.
Maybe we'd foolishly relied on fear for so long that we'd never considered other options, but when the vast might of our civilization was thrown on display, when the veil of the future was ripped back and exposed for all to see, when our arcane technology that can split reality and reshape it at will was brought forth, when the sheer terror of how tiny they were compared to the great and grand Forebearers gripped them thoroughly... they simply acknowledged us. When given the option to join us or be left to drift for all eternity, they chose to drift. When told they would receive no help from us and would end up as so many other species we'd failed to reach before they'd rendered themselves extinct, they had ready their reply.
And such a simple reply it was: "When we were young, we looked to the heavens for the potential of our species. When we grew older, we found we could reach out to test ourselves. And when we took our first steps on new worlds, our elation was palpable. Now that we have met you, we have seen all that we can become, but we also see that, under your reign, we will not reach the heights we know we can. We have hope that we will be able to come to you again, as equals, in the future, and beg you to anticipate this joyous occasion."
Fear united our grand vision. We had conquered fear, but still, it controlled us.
Fear does not hold humanity.
And that is unacceptable. | The Zoroites arrived on the Planet Earth with their grand armada. On board the flagship, The Emperor of the Galaxy had prepared Himself for the descent to Earth. He had recently acquired the star system of Sol, which was previously under the domain of the Humans. He reduced the Humans' dominion to their planet and its' single moon to further repress them further. This tactic had worked thus far in subduing many races across the galaxy, especially when He dominated them further by making public displays of cruelty in the form of tortures, executions, and genocides.
But those measures were only reserved for those who dared challenge His authority. For most of the time, The Emperor need only to assert His dominance through overwhelming invasion, a victory parade on the home planet or capital of the conquered, and maybe breaking the strongest warrior/leader of the conquered. When done right, rebellion would not even occur in the minds of the conquered races.
However, as the Emperor's armada descended towards the city of New York – where the UN's HQ was located and Earth leaders were gathered – He saw that the citizens were not out there in droves welcoming his imperial procession. Instead, only some men in uniformed black jacket were there to greet the Supreme Ruler of the Galaxy.
Furious, He signaled to the advanced party to investigate what had happened. He thought that maybe the Humans were too scared to even see His fear-inducing presence. Maybe the Humans had stayed at their homes, holed up in case the invaders had decided to murder or enslave them all.
As The Emperor mused at the notion of fleeing inferior beings, scared for their lives, The flagship had landed just in front of the UN HQ building. The flagship itself was larger than the building, displaying the grandeur of His Power and Greatness. The doors opened before Him, the trumpets greeted His presence, His soldiers stood at the ready in perfect posture, and He himself was dressed in the way befitting a Great Ruler such as Himself. He stood 3-meters-tall, way taller than any of the Humans genuflecting before him. He took pity at them, finally understanding the disparity between His kind and their kind.
"Humans! His Grace, the Emperor of the Galaxy, Breaker of Worlds, Conqueror of the Masses, would like to inquire as to the rest of your people!" a slightly shorter figure, clad in shiny armour announced, whilst standing slightly in front of The Emperor. This was done, as to put distance between the ruler and the ruled.
A human representative raised his head and answered, "Y-Your Grace! We have been sent by our leaders and people to properly greet you, so–"
The Emperor raised his hand to stop the human. He then nodded to his aide who continued, "Yes, we understand that. But His Grace wondered if the lack of people present at the moment would indicate their fear or rather their insubordination..?"
"N-No, Your Grace! We have tried, to our best ability to invite more citizens to attend to Your Grace's arrival," the humans who were still on their knees responded in unison, "however, as you could see not a lot of people decided to attend."
"Why is that, then?"
"W-Well... It could be said... t-that the citizens opted to stay at home, maybe they are watching the procession from their televisions or social media," another human representative said.
Unsatisfied, the Emperor ordered some of His generals to 'punish' the humans' lack of respect shown. The generals then moved into their respective fleets and deployed the necessary measures to enact 'phase 2 of the Earth's subjugation' – amounting to public displays of violence. The armies and ships raced across the world to inflict damages, be it human lives, infrastructures, or even the natural environment, all were subjected to His will. His will demanded death and destruction, as such those things were brought upon the citizens of Earth, albeit in the least amount as he would like to keep many of the citizens still alive and resources available for productivity reasons.
After days of rampaging, The Emperor observed that the humans were all still apathetically staying within their homes. He wondered if maybe the damage he had done were insufficient. So he ordered even more death and destruction on Earth. He also rounded up several leaders and had them executed publicly for all to see, for all to weep and fall into despair to.
Weeks had passed, yet still nothing changed. As He had about enough of the humans' lack of reaction, He was about to order the humans to be wiped out en masse when he received reports from His aides. After various methods were used, they had finally concluded that the humans were indeed staying within their homes. The humans did so, not out of fear or despair. No, the humans did so because they were too bored at the destruction, intimidation, and even fear tactics that the Emperor had employed in his attempt to subjugate Earth. He was stunned at the rather unexpected report.
He wondered, if fear was not working against the humans... maybe doing the exact opposite of that could yield result? He consulted his aides to weigh in on the thought.
"Let us use unorthodox methods against unorthodox sorts of creatures, shall we?" | 2019-06-11T10:06:47 | 2019-06-11T08:18:28 | 363 | 159 |
[WP] You are the King's must trusted advisor. Your advice has saved the kingdom from devastation many times. There's just one problem: You're actually trying to sabotage the King with the worst advice you can think of, but it always somehow works out. | Dear Diary,
I hate this new guy we took on as king. Today I told him to charge the people double gold coins for our crops because we need to do some renos on the castle wall and that's not cheap. He agreed. What an idiot. They'll hang him for this for sure.
Dear Diary,
. . . Apparently, our crops are now considered *bougie* and we are making an insane profit just from selling wheat and corn off the king's land. I have been promoted. Fuck me.
Dear Diary,
I advised our king to pour the hot tar over our exterior castle wall since we are not currently at war and do not need it. He agreed. What a waste of resources and man power. Moron. Can't wait for him to be superseded.
Dear Diary,
The tar has strengthened our walls and rendered them impassable. We are being hailed as the strongest fortress in the lands and our king, a genius leader. He gave me a bonus. You've got to be kidding me.
Dear Diary,
There's a small kingdom next to ours that poses no threat and we've been at peace for decades. Plus our people and theirs get along. I suggested we attack. The king agreed. This will bite him in the ass for sure. I swear, he's got cheese for brains.
Dear Diary,
Unaware to us, the kingdom next door was being overrun by unruly Vikings who were making the people there work for them and their kind. When we attacked, our royal solider battalion eliminated all high ranking Vikings and we liberated the people from five years of oppression. I am now the most trusted and respected adviser in our history. Perfect.
Dear Diary,
Since my last entry, everyone and anyone has been coming to me for advice. I have been running things around here for the last 4 moons while the king has been taking advantage of his new celebrity status. He has been out every night sleeping with random concubines, going through our historic barely and ale reserve (which I don't even know how he found since it's in barrels in the deep cellars that were built before he was even born) and then he went on to disturb our live stock. 'Cow tipping' is what he called it. This can't last. Eventually the people will see him as the fraud that he is.
Dear Diary,
The rulers of distant nations have heard of our king and his 'cow tipping' ways. They think he's hilarious. They believe him to be a god among men. Thanks to him and my advice, we have now created a peace through-out the lands and all the people have never been so happy and fulfilled. I fucking hate this guy.
Dear Diary,
Our king has been promoted to emperor of many lands. I, in turn, have been promoted to king. This is horseshit. | I stood outside the doors and took a deep breath. I had been summoned again, and I was not prepared for what awaited me on the other side. As the doors swung open, I took a step over the threshold.
“Ah, there he is!” exclaimed the booming, aging voice. “You’ve done it again, my boy!” I watched as long, graying hair flew through the air above purple, flowing robes. Before I knew it, he was there, grasping my arm as if I was his brother. “Come, sit with me,” the voice came again, dragging me with it as I forced a smile on my face. “If you were my son,” the voice continued, “I’d make you Crown Prince!”
It had been several months since I was last in the throne room, but I remembered it vividly. Tensions had reached an apex, war was inevitable, and the sentinels were reporting that troops from a neighboring kingdom were making their way toward the eastern border. I was sure that would be it. If they could get to the capital without much resistance, I was sure this wretched man would finally be forced off his throne. The East was only half our size, so the lack of resistance was vital. That was why I counseled him to go to the West. *Remember, sire, that while it has been the East that has threatened us and made demands, they have always had the West behind them,* I reasoned. *Do you not find it rather interesting, then, that only the East has caused alarm? The sentinels in the West have been quiet while an entire force collects near our eastern border.* I knew if I could convince him, he would send the entire force in the wrong direction. *And why are they stopping at the border? We have nobody on the ground over there right now. Why not cross and get as far inward as possible?* He sent a majority of our forces westward, only sending enough the other way to keep the East at bay and to stop any communications between the two allies.
Internally, as I sat near the throne, I was cursing myself. Of course it was a distraction. The East hadn’t even tried to attack - just engage in a months-long standoff. But by being so bad at war strategy, I had somehow accidentally given good advice. Now we had won a major battle in the West and our forces were heading to the East to give them a choice: peace or destruction. We were now set to win a war in which one enemy was summarily defeated due to the overwhelming numbers we set against them at my behest and the other enemy had no idea what awaited them. Honestly, their stupidity in planning had to take some credit in this ridiculous outcome, but the fault would publicly lie with me.
So, here I was again, sitting with the King as nobles filled the room. My face was not unknown to them. I was the eccentric advisor they always opposed because they believed my ideas foolish. But they weren’t wrong. Well, they shouldn’t have been wrong. My ideas were supposed to be foolish. What kind of advisor tells a king to seize as many noble lands as possible to show his strength? He was trying to quell an uprising, my advice was meant to hasten it. But it turned out that most of the nobility would bend the knee and beg mercy to have their own property returned than to rise up against a tyrant. Even better, what kind of advisor says to double taxes to pay for a completely unnecessary castle? Yet again, there it was, being built in the northland hills as the poor got poorer and the rich got less rich, and no one seemed to bat a damn eye. “It’s only temporary,” they’d say. Or they’d give some reason why a castle was needed in the hills. Peasants would normally look back to when crops were diseased and dying and the King saved them from starvation by bringing in new crops to grow from different lands. Also my idea. They were from a different climate with completely different growing conditions. He was supposed to spend a good amount of the treasury and the crops were supposed to fail. But, not only did they succeed, they thrived, and most of the people thought they tasted better than our native crops. And now, with such a decisive and swift victory over a foreign enemy with a trained militia, hopes of any domestic uprising among peasants or nobles had been completely shattered.
I maintained my forced smile as the disgraceful twit proclaimed me High Chancellor and Defender of the Realm, placed the ring and chains on me, and paraded me before his incestuous family and spineless aristocrats. At this point, short of assassination, I will probably never be rid of him.... | 2019-07-07T18:40:41 | 2019-07-07T16:02:09 | 133 | 28 |
[WP] A fortune teller foretold that twins would be born where one was evil and the other was good. A year later, a woman gave birth to a boy with horns and bat wings, and a girl with angel wings and a halo. The boy was sent away, while she and her husband raised the girl. They kept the wrong one. | A young man wearing a brown fur cap, a heavy overcoat and black boots walked into the tavern. His yellow eyes scanned the crowd of strangers laughing and drinking until he finally saw who he was looking for. At the very back, there was a middle aged man with a thick beard and a eyepatch over his right eye, sitting alone and smoking out of a pipe. The young man grabbed a chair and sat down next to him. "Captain Bach, I assume?"
"Indeed. So, you're the stranger who's been asking around about the ruler of the island of Arelius". The captain studied the young man's face for a moment. "Do you have the payment I asked for?"
The young man pulled a small sack of gold coins and placed it on the table. The captain carefully counted the coins before turning back to his client. "What exactly do you want to know about her?"
"Everything," the young man responded, folding his arms. "I haven't returned to this country for many years. I tried asking the locals about what had happened, but they all seem to be too scared to talk about it."
The captain took a puff from his pipe. "For good reason. Only a madman would want to risk Evelyn's wrath." He stared off into the distance. "I'll tell the whole tale from beginning to end. I suppose it all really began around twenty years ago. There was a couple that lived up in a farm on Lavender Hill. One day, a seer came knocking on their door and warned them that the mother was destined to give birth to twins, one good and one evil. Sure enough, several months later, the mother gave birth to two unusual children. One of them was a young boy with goat hooves and ram horns coming out of either side of his head as well as two small bat wings clinging to his back. The other was a young blonde girl with feathery wings and a golden glowing halo floating over her head. Naturally, the couple decided that the child that looked like an angel was the good child. So, they kept the girl to raise while selling the boy to a passing slaver ship."
"Well, the years passed and the young girl was said to be a rude disobedient child. She was still manageable though. The real trouble began though when she started talking to animals. She was able to compel them, you see, to do things for her, to make them act as her flesh puppets. And soon, it wasn't just animals. Within a year, the entire population of Arelius was under her control and had declared independence from the mainland."
"Naturally, as you could imagine, the king wasn't at all pleased by this. So he sent a vast armada with orders to poison the island and kill the witch from a distance. But before they had even set foot on land, Evelyn sent flocks of birds to terrorize the sailors and gouge out their eyes. Sharks and whales rose up from the depths of the sea and smashed their ships. In the end, Evelyn took over five thousand soldiers hostage and agreed to send them back only if the king promised that he would never again attack Arelius again."
"For five years, the peace held. Then, the king started making plans to retake the island again. And that's when Evelyn sprung her trap. All the soldiers that she had taken hostage had been imprisoned and been inspected by doctors for months after they had returned. Eventually, they were sent back home when the doctors determined that they were of sound mind. But Evelyn's voice had never really left their heads. They rose up, storming the capital and leaving thousands dead in their rampage, including the king. After the chaos finally died down, the king's son launched a massive purge of the whole country. Anyone that had traveled to Arelius in the past six years was either exiled or killed. All travel to and from Arelius was banned, and anyone who came from there was to be put to death." The captain paused. "After that, news from Arelius stopped completely. Lord only knows what the island has become now."
"I see," the young man said quietly. He had kept his face remarkably still the whole time. "So, there's no way to get to Arelius then?"
"Not without courting certain death," the captain responded. He tilted his head. "Why are you so curious about Arelius anyway?"
The young man stood up. "Let's just say that I have some family issues to resolve there." With that, he turned around and left the tavern.
The captain stared after him, noticing the strange way that he limped through the crowd. Even after all these years, he could still hear Evelyn's voice in his head, guiding him to act. Quickly, he pulled out a piece of a parchment and began writing. The Empress of Arelius needed to know about this stranger. | It was early in the morning, I could hear the birds chirping. I opened my eyes just a little only to see my little girl Jessy there. I was happy to see her until I realized she was holding a knife. That was the 5th time this week she has woke me up like this. I wish we would have kept her brother. We noticed from a young age she was different. She always cried even when we gave her what she wanted. I thought maybe this was just normal baby stuff everyone said it would get better. Spoiler alert it never did. She’s six now and always finds a way to try and hurt us. She doesn’t have many friends. The adoption agency finally told me I could get my boy back by next year. He was still in the foster system so it was easy to get him. I haven’t seen him since he was born.
*a year later*
Today we finally get our boy back. We don’t know what we’re going to do with Jessy. We named our boy Lucas before giving him away at birth.
*a week later*
Jessy seems meaner lately. She hasn’t tried to hurt us but she keeps warning us we should get rid of Lucas. I told her we’re not getting rid of Lucas. No matter how many times I tell her she still tries to convince us he’s bad news. There birthday is coming up soon. I plan on bringing Jessy to a military school. She has to be at least 9 so I will try to give her the best birthday ever. I’m sending her for her own good. She won’t stop lying and holding knives like she’s ready to attack someone if they make her mad. The military school is very good to there students and it’s nothing like any of the other schools I’ve seen. I know this will be good for her. I still love Jessy very much but I just can’t give her the help she needs at home.
*the twins birthday*
I woke them up this morning and sang them happy birthday. When we went downstairs I told them they could have anything they wanted for breakfasts. There dad took Lucas to a roller skating rink while I took Jessy to a trampoline park. This is the happiest I’ve seen Jessy in a long time. It makes me sad that I’m sending her off tomorrow. It was a good day today everyone had fun and we ate a lot of cake.
*the next day*
I didn’t tell Jessy we were sending her to military school I just told her we were bringing her somewhere for a bit and to pack her bags. I told her it was like a summer camp. When we got to the gates it seemed very nice. Everyone was so sweet and welcoming and they seemed like they were very nice to there students. When Jessy found out what I was doing she cried and begged me to not leave her here. She said Lucas should be the one here and she did nothing wrong. The security guards quickly directed me to the exit. The whole way home I cried. I didn’t know if I made the right decision but I had to be strong for Lucas and Jessy.
*two years later*
Jessy has been in and out of the school. She’s gotten better at some points and worse at others. Today Jessy gets to come home again for who knows how long. Lucas seems happy she’s coming home. We all had a nice family dinner and Jessy seems happy to be home.
Jessy has been home for a week now has been very good. She seems a little nervous sometimes but other then that she’s doing good.
*later that night*
I was sleeping peacefully when all of a sudden a boom went threw the house. I realized it was the sound of a gunshot. I rushed to Jessy’s room only to find her bleeding out on her bed. I ran over to put pressure on her wound while I yelled for my husband to call 911. I saw little Lucas sitting in the corner of her room, he look terrified. I asked him what happened. He said “I came in here cause I thought I heard her crying. When I walked in though she pointed a gun at me. She tried to shoot at me but the gun wouldn’t shoot. I ran and pulled it out of her hands and pointed it at her. All of a sudden it fired I didn’t even pull the trigger!”. He was talking fast and crying so I hardly understood him but there was no time to wonder what happened I had to make sure Jessy was ok. The ambulance arrived and I tried to go with her but the police said I needed to stay behind for questioning. After hours of questioning they finally released me and my husband to go see Jessy. They said the had to keep Lucas for a little longer. Jessy was on a breathing machine. I found out the bullet almost hit her heart. She was passed out they said she should wake up tomorrow or the next day but she wouldn’t be able to talk. I cried and prayed that she would live.
*the next day*
Jessy woke up but was very dazed. The police came in to talk to her. We still hadn’t seen Lucas we assumed he was picked up by my sister but we didn’t have enough time to call and ask. After the police talked to Jessy for what felt like hours they finally informed me they had arrested the person who did this. At first I was happy then I realized they were talking about my son.
“What?”
Police “we’ve arrested your son for attempted murder”
It all came crashing down I tried to explain it was an accident but they said he tried to kill her. He confesses to coming to her room with a gun in a attempt to kill her. They said there was proof. How could my little boy do this I thought he was the good twin.
*trial day*
It’s all come out everything he did. He tried to kill her. Every time we woke up with Jessy holding a knife she was trying to protect us. She was scared he would come hurt us. It doesn’t make sense to me either. Today Lucas goes to trial. He’s tried to say he was innocent for the longest time but when the police showed him all the evidence they had against him he confessed. A year after Lucas tried to kill Jessy she’s still broken. I found out she’s the good one not him. I tried to keep the wrong one. I tried to get rid of Jessy even though she’s the best girl anyone could ask for.
Edit: I’m not a writer so sorry for this being kinda boring and having horrible punctuation. :) | 2020-05-07T08:39:38 | 2020-05-07T08:18:26 | 131 | 17 |
[WP] A fortune teller foretold that twins would be born where one was evil and the other was good. A year later, a woman gave birth to a boy with horns and bat wings, and a girl with angel wings and a halo. The boy was sent away, while she and her husband raised the girl. They kept the wrong one. | "I fucking what?" The horned man questioned, lost after the first sentence out the messenger's mouth.
"You have a twin sister with a halo. A prophecy was told to your parents that there would be a good twin and a bad twin. They assumed she was the good twin and that's why you're an orphan but they were wrong! A-and now you gotta go and go back home and fighter her and be an edgy anti-hero, come on dude it'll be fun!" The messenger giddily repeated, making dramatic gestures with a smile from ear to ear on her face.
"Okay okay okay how bad are we talking here? How immediately necessary is it for me to go kill my sister I've never met?" Glyve asked.
"Um..." The goblin girl looked back at the letter. "Very." Glyve rolled his eyes. "Glyve, listen to me, I've been just toting packages from here to other towns for most of my life and you've spent probably 90% of your life in this building, from living here to owning the bar. Do you really not want to go out and *do something* different for once in your life?" Ferine explains, now stern and aggravated.
"... Auuuuugh fiiiiiiine..." | Angela was scared for the first time in her life. Her parents, now quietly standing in the corner of her room, had hidden from her the giant part of her life.
She has a brother.
"How could you do this!" She screamed, her anglic wings now scruffed " Do you know what that means? That boy, now man can be as strong as me! That means he is a threat to a balance itself!"
"You can't be sure !" her mother plead. She was afraid of her. Since childhood, her daughter was surraunded by love and praise. She should stop the Empire Church from taking her to the Saint Monastery. How could she not see that this people would turn her little girl into .... that.
"Don't you dare say anymore excuses! What else had you hidden from me? That I'm adopted? That you kidnapped me from my parents? Who are they? " Said Angela now her voice more and more spunding like a vouce of priest during ceremony.
"You are our child! And don't worry! Your brother was send so far away. He may not even know you even exist! Not to mention the prophecy!"
"Where did you took him?" Angela asked her father. As always his face was showing no emotion, but now he was more pale than usual. The guilt was cracking his face. He signed the pact. He couldn't tell her.
"I asked foreign merchant to take him as payment for my debts." He answered.
"Do you know what would happen, if that would see a light of day? That would turn apart everything the Empire stands by! A child trader! Guards! " She shouts while pointing her finger at her father.
"What is it, Your Angelic Might?" A voice called.
" Take them away from me! I do not want to be associated with this heretics!" She ordered while turning her back on them. Her parents left with guards. Meanwhile, the chamber entered, sir Sebastian, her personall confesioner and advisor send by Empire Church to aid her in troubling times such as this one.
"We need to find him!" she snarled.
"I think that would be much easier than it seems." He answered
"How!? We don't know where he was send. He can be everywhere?"
Sabastian handed her daily newspaper. On the front page was written in large letters:
IT IS A WAR. LARGE ARMIES OF THE UNITED TRIBES OF WESTERN PLAINS GATHER ON THE BORDER OF OUR BELOVED EMPIRE. OUR BELOVED ANGEL PROTECTS!
"What does it has in common with my brother?"
"Read further" Sebastian followed
She started reading further. Her eyes getting larger every second. She throwed the paper to the ground and left the chamber, Sebastian right behind her. In her memory was burned the last sentences of this article:
"The rumors says that, the triebs are acompanied by the party of the Black Company lead by legendary commander known as the Horned One. His role in this war is currently uknown, our sources speculate that this war with him in its theatre, will be bloody. ALL HAIL THE ANGEL" | 2020-05-07T08:49:40 | 2020-05-07T08:30:59 | 54 | 33 |
[WP]You’re the god of small luck, you make the bus late, make pennies appear. You receive a prayer from a homeless man, “Please, I want to get on my feet. A stable job, a wife, some kids.” Normally, you’d forward his prayer to the god of success. Now, you decide to take on the case yourself. | Help me.
Such a simple plea.
Help me I’m down on my luck. I made mistakes and I want move forward.
I can’t fix lives, I thought. I can give people pennies. Once I made a girl think she was having the string of the worst luck possible, forgetting a package in two different cities and then by the grace of random strangers, getting the package forwarded to her current city. When she forgot it again, I caused a guy to turn his head with a small puff of wind, and notice her standing with a map. He offered directions, then conversation and eventually dinner. They are married now, 25 years together.
I could see all the possible futures for this man, shimmering together. Death, brutality, hunger and loss of capacity featured in most of them. The few that had happier outcomes: a long life, helping others and feeling part of the world instead of separate, were dim. Most of them required interventions that were beyond my power to give.
But there was one. Faint. Unlikely. But it
Could work if Johanna was late this morning. I looked at her dossier, and she was a metronome in the morning. Left the house at exactly the same time. Walked the same speed to the bus stop. Waited two minutes and boarded the bus. Arrived at the office precisely at 8:56am. Hung up her coat and started work at 9.
This morning didn’t go so well. Her shoelace came undone at the bottom of the stairs of her apartment. A clogged storm drain caused the street to fill with water, so she detoured around the puddle. A nice old man started talking to her and she was too kind to ignore him. She noticed the nice old man drop a five dollar bill and she had to return it to him.
I just need another 30seconds.
Shoelaces? Car crash? What can I do, what can I do? I spy a cat and nudge him towards her ankles. The affectionate cat threatens to trip her and she tries to keep walking, but the temptation to scratch his head it too strong. 25 seconds later, the cat scampers away and she starts running. She is going to catch that damn bus.
She trips. NOT my fault. Truly, I did not intervene. She is nearly in tears, her knee all scraped and bashed. Her hands scraped. Eyes misting, she takes a moment and a breath on the sidewalk and looks over to see the bus fly by.
She catches the next one.
When Johanna gets off, she notices my man curled up in a door way. He sees her and her knees and asks “are you ok?” She laughs, and says yes. And looks at him a little closer.
“Hey Are you new here? I know most of the people around here and I don’t think we’ve met.
They chat for a few more minutes and she invites him to drop into her resource centre “it’s not much, but we have washrooms, a living room. You can get cleaned up and take a break. If you want we can help you find a place to stay. But regardless, you are welcome there”.
A few months later, he is offered a home. A tiny one room unit with a shared kitchen. His tiny home is the first time he is safe-physically safe-in years. He starts working at the resource centre. Helping others as lost as he was.
Eventuallly, with the encouragement of his new friends, he gets up the courage to get his GED and go back to school. The poster with the scholarship information blew up against his legs.
Admittedly he did have some bad luck - he tripped once and didn’t see an old drinking buddy. And he tripped again, dropping a bottle. Not very creative of me, but I was desperate.
His possible futures now are mostly bright. And all because Johanna was late that day | (BANG BANG BANG) “Order! Order!”
Unfurling their majestic feathery wings, the council took there seats at the front of the court house.
Angles and Demi’s of the Jury, this is a Celestial Case. An incident took place early this morning, where as the God of Luck has failed to carry out his duty, and report the poor soul #01000010 01110010 01101111, to the proper god. The penalty being stripped of your power and rank. Do you understand the charges?
“Yes your honor” I’m trembling in my Sandals.
“And I understand you will be representing yourself today is that correct?” The smug smile on her face showed me I’m in way over my halo.
“Yes that is correct” I glance over at the far right to the god of success, he hasn’t taken his eyes off me since we began.
“And how do you plea?” The room falls quiet.
“Not guilty” the room roars with arguments.
“ORDER ORDER!” The council seemed in shock of my response.
“It’s just, I think I might have maybe made a mistake?” That didn’t seem to help the roaring.
“ORDER! Will the defendant please proceed with your opening statement?”
I thought back to the homeless man I heard that morning. The sun had not risen yet, I was helping a jogger realize the mess they where about to step in when I heard him.
“Please, I want to get on my feet. A stable job, a wife, some kids”
I am luck for all, I provide that small detail that can change tides. I put that nickel on the floor that gave you exact change, I made the buss late so you met the love of your life. I’ve shifted the powers in wars and made sure that you where closer to grass when you fell down hard that one time. I’ve been content with my job till this one moment.
Ignoring the jogger with now smelly shoes I phased over to the homeless man.
He was as you’d except, oversized cloths, hardly any shelter, and a sign that wasn’t even readable anymore, down on his luck. This man had given up, had I not seen him before? I’m sure I have, this is #01000010 01110010 01101111. Yes I’m sure of it the boy who I helped in 10th grade, track and field, I had to keep his shoe from slipping off, he would always forget to tie them, no matter how much he wanted to be top in his class he always fell a little behind. I manifest into physical form.
“Hey bud, not doing so hot hu?” I put a 5$ in his tin can.
“Life’s To Hard, and I’ve got zero luck, I just wish I could have things work out like everyone els, but luck doesn’t exist.”
Clearly offended I state “you know sometimes you just have to look around luck is out there trust me” I do exist after all. It didn’t mattter though, the man went back into his daze.
“I didn’t report him your honor because I don’t believe I’ve done him justice. I would like a second attempt at his happiness before handing him off to the God of success.”
“And are you okay with this” she looks over at the God of Success who still hasn’t taken his eyes off me.
“If he thinks he can make the soul happy who am I to stand in the way of his success.” The look on his face wasn’t offended, more intrigued.
“Well then god of luck, you are granted your request and this case is closed until further notice.”
So I began, it started with him finding a Rolex watch that he pawned off for 500$ the most I’d ever let someone find. He’d been used to starving so he was able to really stretch his money and make it last. I then put him in front of a store that was hiring. Luckily he was they’re first & only applicant. The others weren’t as lucky. I couldn’t wait for the big finally, I found a girl who loves track and field stories and can’t wait to have kids. I’ve never given someone so much luck it felt wonderful, I couldn’t wait to introduce them by an accidental (I’ll go left you go right) cute scenario I’ve been working on for a month. It was all going to be perfect..
But when I got back to the store, he wasn’t there.. I searched and couldn’t find him, about another month went by and I heard him. “Please, I just want to get on my feet, I want a stable job and a wife and some kids”
I couldn’t bare myself to face him. I unfurled my wings and like a rocket burst through the clouds and presented myself to Success. “Why?”
He looked me in the eyes with that same look he gave me in the court room.
“And what’s with that look! Did you know this would happen! Why didn’t you say anything? You just stood and watched me fail!”
“You can’t fail at something that’s not in your control” His words felt heavy, “success doesn’t come from what you get in life, or how lucky you are”
“Then how will you give him success?” I asked confused and tired
“I will give him success, but that is not to say he will be successful” he looked through the clouds onto the billions of souls we try to guide. “I can give him success on what he chooses to do, if he chooses to sit and place blame and ask for money I will give him the success in doing so. You and I will hand success & luck to the world. But it’s up to them to choose what they do with it”
FIN.
It’s my first time so be nice! I’m not a writer or reader my grammar sucks, I just like to go off in my head sometimes and this one seemed like fun. | 2020-10-02T10:17:58 | 2020-10-02T09:19:13 | 323 | 136 |
[WP] You are an old god, living out the rest of your days in a long forgotten temple. One day you wake up and discover that someone has a left a small child inside your temple. | Bhairi rose from her slumber as the rays of the sun entered the inner sanctum of her temple. She turned from stone to flesh slowly, letting the warmth wash over her until the inner sanctum was bright from daylight.
She stepped outside of her sanctum and looked around at her temple. It was an old collection of structures, built by some king who was long defeated and dead. The walls of the temple were surrounded by thick forest, and the pond where devotees used to bathe and cleanse themselves before coming to pray to her was now dry, the steps that extended along all sides of the pond overgrown with weeds.
The stones of her temple were usually covered with dust carried by the wind, by dead leaves from the nearby trees. Today the stones were free of debris, washed and cleaned. At the main entrance of the temple, in front of the tall brass pillar of the dhwajasthamba, there was an infant.
Bhairi approached slowly. The infant was sleeping, her fingers curled into themselves. She looked around. People no longer visited her temple. Sometimes she would hear the far-off prayers of people passing by, those who saw the tip of her temple, the shikaram, from the highway. Mostly though, they thought her temple and everything around it was haunted, cursed.
That was if they knew of her at all. Whoever had come had cleaned her temple, and left an infant behind. Was it an offering? A sacrifice? She picked up the child. It had been so long since she had held a child. Gods did not have children often, and when they did, the children grew up too quickly and became gods in their own right, eager to exert their power and forget the few days when they had been small and weak.
The girl squirmed around until she was settled and warm into Bhairi's arms. She was a lovely thing, with long fluttering lashes and skin the color of rain-soaked soil. The temple was no place for a child to grow up. But then again, the human world was not ideal either. Especially not for an unwanted girl child.
Bhairi's long hair fell onto the child's face, and the child sneezed. Bhairi examined her hair, knotted like banyan roots over the years. The dark violet of her cotton saree, still stained with blood. She had spent too many years alone, too many years unattended and aloof. What had become of the other gods? Their statues remained on the earth, but the gods themselves had disappeared.
She pulled her hair back, and the black tangles smoothed out into a single plait. She adorned herself in silk and gold, with vermilion on her forehead and kohl lining her eyes. Her glory was something she had forgotten to maintain.
The girl, though, knew no difference. She slept without worry in Bhairi's arms. The goddess knew she could not toss the girl away. She had been abandoned once already.
"Varsha," she whispered into the girl's ear, tracing the name onto the girl's forehead with her finger.
The child grew in the temple grounds. Bhairi made it rain so Varsha could bathe in the temple's pond. She brought life back into the temple. The girl was saying her first words when Bhairi heard the prayer.
*A child. Anything for a child.*
Varsha sat on the steps of the temple, her hair tied up with ribbons. A couple of butterflies were around her hands, and Varsha turned around.
"Amma!" she yelled, showing Bhairi the pretty creatures. Bhairi's attention was elsewhere. It was in the car that was going away, carrying a woman with a universe of love and no one to give it to.
Bhairi snapped her fingers, and the car's tire burst. It was a warm afternoon, and her temple's shikaram was visible for miles. As she thought, the woman walked in. Bhairi walked back to her inner sanctum. She sat on the stone slab and settled. Her flesh turned to stone again, for the first time in a year.
They came in, the woman and her husband. Bhairi knew they were good people. They took off their shoes in front of the main entrance and walked in, the woman covering her hair with a scarf. The man rang the long-silent temple bells as the woman mumbled her prayers.
Varsha was hiding behind her. Bhairi swallowed her tears. She was a goddess, she was meant to answer prayers. There should've been no sorrow, no tears threatening to fall onto her stony face.
"Go," she whispered.
"Amma?" Varsha asked.
The woman heard her, and Varsha peeked out from behind Bhairi, in the inner sanctum. Bhairi heard the woman gasp. Varsha walked forward gingerly, and the woman wrapped her arms around her. The woman was afraid still, that the beautiful child in her arms belonged to someone else, that the little girl was only lost.
Bhairi saw the woman carry her Varsha away, and when the temple doors closed and sun had set, she let herself fall and she let herself weep.
\*\*\*
Bhairi did not move when the temple doors opened, nor when the young women and men poured in. She received more devotees nowadays, after the news of her granted wish and miracle child spread. A priest came in the mornings and cleaned the temple, decorating her sanctum with flowers and incense. He was sleeping on one of the steps now, made drowsy by the afternoon heat.
The group prayed to her, and she listened to their wishes and granted what she could. The girl in front of the group did not fold her hands in prayer or ring the temple bells.
The girl with long lashes and her hair tied with ribbons stepped into the inner sanctum.
"How are you, Amma?"
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
r/xeuthis | I paused. Stared down at the child. Blinked.
The child stared back. Blinked. Maintained an impassive face as it passed gas in my presence, at the very foot of my throne room stairs.
I sighed. "No chosen ones, no special blessings, and no human sacrifices. Gave up on the first three centuries ago tomorrow, never gave the second, and the third I claimed to have given up for Lent but my followers never believed me."
The child sat there, chubby cheeks giving it a toad like appearance, but failed to laugh at my joke.
My robes rustled as I turned my back on the infant human and settled into my throne. I hadn't had an audience in decades, mainly due to conceding my seat in the pantheon to my protégé and sequestering myself in the abandoned temple on the edge of civilization. If the records were to be believed, my primordial predecessor had erected the place as a summer palace millennia ago, back when the surrounding bodies of water were more freshwater lakes and less rancid swamps. How someone had navigated the quagmire to leave this child here, and why, was beyond me.
"Well, do you do anything?" I asked, fluttering my fingers at the child.
He sniffed, an annoying clearing of snot rather than a quest for pity. Unfortunate. I'd rather have exterminated him for vain attempts at my sympathy than merely being a nuisance. But he was much too young to be of any use to me, and I'd given up the office politics long ago. My bones grated as I pushed off my throne. A short audience, and I would've enjoyed a longer seat, but with the child incapable of conversation I found myself skipping the formalities. The sooner the child was dead, the faster I could go back to enjoying my twilight centuries. Maybe a decade in the swamps would do me good.
As I made my way down the steps, the child turned and crawled away. I froze. On the child's back was a note, written on thick parchment with crimson ink. I'd recognize that handwriting anywhere, even without the skull signet sealed in violet wax. Knees creaking, I hurried down the steps and snatched the paper off the child's back, snapping the purple seal in the process.
"My dearest Charax," the note read, "I trust you've been savoring your isolation. Toying with the other gods just hasn't been the same since you left."
Of course not. You always had a bone to pick with me and invented one when you did not.
"The decades have been kind to me, my dear, and my followers have flourished with the recent bountiful crops. War is a wonderful field to harvest, and my silos are full to bursting."
I'll bet they are. And I bet your blood-drunkeness had nothing to do with this missive.
"As a token of our former friendship,"
Ha.
"please accept this human child. I found him orphaned on the battlefield, and I couldn't bring myself to put him down. I hear 'orphaned by war' is an excellent origin story for villains these days. You always did have a flair for training the best."
Uh oh.
"All my love. I look forward to seeing what you do with this one in the next three decades. Yours forever, Malia."
That gods-damned woman. It'd not even been a millennium yet and she was already meddling. She'd promised me at least that much time to myself.
I glared over the note at the child, who was happily crawling across dirt-stained bricks. The thing didn't even have the presence of mind to be terrified by the dark, damp moss clinging to the temple pillars or the nauseating aura of death permeating the heavy, stagnant air. I crumpled the note and threw it in a patch of sitting water on the temple floor.
Fool woman. I wasn't going to be raising her next war lieutenant. I'd done quite enough of that over the centuries, and I was retired, gods damn it.
"What are you..." I nearly tripped over my robes in my haste to catch the child before it pitched face first into a brazier. The hanging fire pit, suspended to a tripod of iron bars by thick chains, was unlit, its ashes aeons-cold, but the rim had a nasty edge and who knew what had once burned in its flame.
The child looked back at me, comfortable in my arms, and clapped. Stupid imp had the most self-satisfied smile on its face. I put him down with a grunt, grumbling to myself about my aging bones.
Unfazed by his near brush with death, the child immediately beelined for the next hanging brazier. He got as far as pushing against the metal pan and nearly bashing his brains out before I caught the backswing. Hands on my knees, I fought to catch my breathe and shot the infant my most withering glare. In my heyday, I'd burned prime warriors to piles of ash, but I was severely out of practice as the child merely sat and clapped, that stupid grin on its face. Its. I would not see the child as more than a thing. Damned fool war goddess would not...
I sighed deeply as the child made for the third brazier. This time I let him get all the way over, dig his hands around in the ash, maybe sample a bit and see if it killed him. Alas, he only smeared it across his face, streaking dark stains on his skin. As he laughed and clapped, he choked on the cloud of dust he kicked up.
Just my luck it wasn't enough to kill him, for he sneezed and went right back to work, arms, head, and shoulders disappearing into the bowl.
"That's enough," I said, stalking over to yank the child out of the ashes. He spluttered happy slobber and flung ash in my face, giggling like a devil as I coughed and fanned the cloud away. As I carried him back to my throne by his arm, I griped to myself. A deity of my age should be beyond such complaining, but I was old, on my own, and entitled to a bit of aged crotchety attitude every now and then.
The child did have an eye for trouble though. And a keen propensity for getting into trouble. If I could properly cultivate that instinct, I could...
No, no, no. I'd laid down those reins long ago. I was retired. I was...
Giving in.
"I don't know what I'm going to feed you," I told the child. "And I can't really tell you why I'm going to do this. It's not because of her, oh no." I scowled at the note, and then nearly dropped the child.
Not only had the parchment failed to properly disintegrate in the water, it had uncrumpled itself to reveal another note on the back, one I was certain hadn't been there before. I set the child down and retrieved the letter, shaking droplets off the paper.
"I knew you'd come around. Since I also know you haven't given your surrounding grounds a proper scouting in decades, I've compiled a list of game you can sustainably farm for the child until he's of age to reintegrate into society. Graves and kisses, Malia."
"I haven't come around to anything," I told the note.
It didn't say anything back.
"I could still kill you," I said to the child.
He licked his hands and dribbled ashy spit down his chin.
Sighing, I made my way back to my throne and settled in. I guess I was going to have a proper audience today.
"So, child. What shall I call you?" | 2021-01-30T06:20:30 | 2021-01-30T06:05:21 | 32 | 22 |
[WP] Finally the Josh War is over, you are so happy that you are alive but also you’re disappointed at same time. You come home to see your parents and other family members. You can see their confusion face. The first question from your mom, asking— “Who are you?” | My knuckles hurt as I rapped on the door of my childhood home. No response. I could hear shuffling noises from inside the house, that is, when my ears did not ring. The door opened. Mother squinted over her glasses and eyed me keenly.
"Who are you?" she asked.
The question caught me off guard, and I found myself stammering. "Josh...you-your son, Josh."
"Josh?" Mother repeated and looked beyond me into the empty road. "Wait a minute, will you," she said and closed the door.
I checked my reflection in the window. My face was bruised, yes, but it wasn't unrecognizable. Surely the woman who raised me could know that in a heartbeat. Didn't families identify mangled corpses of their kin?
The door opened again. A middle-aged fat man with thinning hair stood in the doorway -- father.
"Yes, sir, what do you want?" he asked.
"Father, it's me, Josh, your son," I said.
The lines on Father's face hardened. A creeping dread pooled in the pit of my stomach.
"Don't mess with me, young man. Go away quietly, or I'll call the cops on you," Father said.
I fumbled as I produced a handkerchief from my pocket and wiped my face. The kerchief showed no blood when I was done, just sweat and grime.
"Don't you remember? I was here three days ago. You know, for the big Josh fight. Well, I went there and got whooped. Maybe you can't identify me with the bruises and all, look," I said and thrust my face towards Father.
His face flushed scarlet, a sneer settled upon it, and he punched me right in the nose. My vision went hazy, and I stumbled backward. The door slammed with a bang.
Snot and blood blocked my nose, but I knocked once more. The door opened a sliver then closed. I kept on knocking. No answer.
Tired and nauseated, I was lolling in the front yard when the blue police cars came. Their lights flashed, and the siren was real loud.
"We have a complaint that you're causing nuisance here," a sunglass-wearing policeman said.
"But this is my home," I didn't know what you were supposed to do in a situation such as this.
The policeman took off his glasses and peered into my face. "Heavy bruising. Where did you get that?"
My hair stood on end. Should I tell him? "I was in a fight."
"A fight? Did you assault anyone? Did you get assaulted?"
My mind jogged back to the Josh fight. There was the Big Josh who had knocked me down once, but I did hit him in the neck with a bike lock. Lying was hard with a headache and a stuffed nose. "A bit of both. I was in the Josh fight."
The policeman shook his head slowly. "So you're one of those, huh. Get in then, we've got orders for your kind."
Blasted truth. It got me into trouble again. The cop put me in handcuffs and shoved me into the backseat of the car. There was another cop in there, at the wheel.
My heart pounded, and my nose stung as the cops drove over the bumpy country roads. The view outside changed from the town to fields to desert to a colony of tents. That's where we got off.
"This is it, kid," the cop said. "You get off here."
I looked at the wire fencing and the shabby khaki tents. "Is this a road gang?"
"No, this is the place for the last of the Josh's." | I'd been limping home for the past three days, nameless and bloodied from my time on the battlefield. I'd been one of the lucky few to avoid clashing with Little Josh near the end of the fight when he'd stopped playing nice.
The Josh that had driven me to the fight was dead, left dying on the Nebraska grass, but I'd managed to grab his keys from his bloodied pocket once night fell, and Little Josh had been coronated. I hadn't been the only Josh crawling away under the stars that night, but any other Josh I'd passed pretended to ignore me. Our feud was officially over, but that hadn't killed the resentment for some of them, so I wasn't about to risk interaction.
I'd managed to get myself home in my dead friend's van. Peeling off into the night as some of the Sworn, former Joshs that had pledged to maintain Little Josh's rule, chased the fleeing cars away from the battleground. Some of the other cars didn't make it out of the parking lots, but I had, and that was enough for me.
I shakily rested on the door before ringing the doorbell and leaving my bloody fingerprints smeared across the white. There was no answer, so I rang the bell again before struggling off the door and standing properly to greet my parents. It was going to be wonderful to take a shower, wipe some of the blood off of myself and get back to my normal life. I'd taken my weekend to go and join a joke, but that had been the worst decision I'd ever made.
Mom opened the door and immediately dropped the mug she'd been carrying. Of course, she would, seeing her son torn up and bloody with half a shirt on. Then she'd slammed the door in my face.
"Mo-" I started just as she slammed the door. She must have been in shock. I tried the door to follow her, but she'd already managed to lock it. I was so fucking tired. It had been a long drive home and a longer time lying on the battlefield pretending to be another dead Josh among the rest. I managed to summon the strength to pound on the door again. "Mom," I cried weakly, "it's me."
The door half-cracked again a minute later. This time I caught my Dad's eye through the crack. "Dad," I squeaked, "thanks, I-" I went to get my hand in the crack of the door, and my father shoved it away.
"You stay away from our house," he spat, "you're bleeding on the steps."
"Wh-" I started, "Dad it's-"
"I don't know who the hell you are, but you're scaring my family," he said, "looks like you had the run of it, so I'm happy to let you drive away right now."
"D-"
"Don't make me come out there and force you," my Dad said from the other side of the door before slamming it again. I reached out to the door and then pulled my hand away before checking the address. That had definitely been my Mom and Dad, but maybe I was somehow at the wrong address. Or-
Of course, they didn't recognize me because I was covered in all of this bullshit. I just had to" I pulled out my phone and looked at the cracked screen that was half smeared with my blood. I had a few percent of battery left, so I dialled my home phone and waited.
"I told you to fucking leave," the door swung wide open behind me and slammed into my chest and stumbled back, heaving for breath as my Dad loomed over me, holding the handgun he'd bought for home safety years ago. His hands were shaking and twitching as he pointed at me. "I just want you gone."
"Dad, it's-" I started, but there wasn't any sign of recognition in his eyes. If it were the blood and dirt, I would have at least looked like someone he knew, and he would have been trying to figure that out, but that wasn't the case. I was a complete stranger to this man. His finger moved slowly to the trigger of the handgun, and I staggered to my feet. "Okay, okay, I'll leave," I said, backing away and trying to choke back tears. Maybe I was too tired to cry, or maybe I'd changed at some point during the Josh Battel Royale, but I knew I had to get myself away from danger before I could get traumatized.
I took the first several steps away from my Dad and the gun before turning and sprinting back to the Van. I smeared blood across the handle and then ripped the door open to throw myself onto the stained fabric seats. After one last look back at my Dad, who was still shakily pointing the pistol at me, I pulled out of the driveway and out into the cul-de-sac.
Once I was a street away, I finally fastened my seatbelt and pulled over to the side of the street. What had just happened? What was going on? How did my parents not even recognize me? Wha- I was dry heaving, my chest clenching like I should have been crying, but I was so out of water and will that I couldn't manage tears.
What had little Josh done?
I ended up falling asleep in that suburb, forehead resting against the steering wheel and scabs forming over my wounds from the battlefield. I didn't know what was going on, but I knew that I wasn't a Josh anymore now that a king had risen.
In fact, I didn't even know who I was anymore or if I was anyone.
/r/jacksonwrites | 2021-04-24T23:09:37 | 2021-04-24T21:50:25 | 388 | 204 |
[WP] You are part of the league, the superheroes who save the world, yet you never go on missions. You are only called for one thing only. Total annihilation, for when they don't want survivors. | Hey there, newbie. Settling in OK so far? First few days on the league are rough for most. Ah, don't worry about me. You just got back from a mission, and I don't got to worry about getting called away.
Me? I'm the Janitor. Yep, that's my official callsign! ...no, seriously. Yeah! Hand on my heart, I swear my callsign is "the janitor." Nah, we don't haze people here. Job's hard enough without everyone starting as the butt of every two-bit joke in the book.
I know that look. You wanna know how I got that callsign. Well... Not much to it, really. I spend a lot of time at the base, just waiting for the call to come in. And I hate sitting still, so I clean around the place. Yep, I'm on the payroll as a frontliner, but most of the time I just clean! Never been one to hit the gym if I can avoid it, reading or poking away on my phone gets boring fast, so cleaning is a happy medium.
... Ah, yeah. Can't deny that there's another reason for the callsign. Remember that one time, couple years ago? That big kerfuffle when that one super decided the league wasn't paying enough to keep him from... what did he call it again? "Take preventative measures" while dangling some super-kid off the edge of a skyscraper? Yeah, that prick. And the kid... The kid got dealt a bad hand. Think he had some kind of mind control power, you know. The kind of thing that makes people take one look at you and go "oh... Yeah, you're probably gonna be a villain when you grow up." League doesn't see things that way. Official policy is "yes, guns kill, but it takes someone pointing it and pulling the trigger first," so... Obviously, couldn't let that prick get away with killing a kid. And you never heard from that prick again, have you?
I'm the Janitor, kid. I clean. And you better believe I'm damn good at that job. | Khan we need you... Said desperate Calypso.
Me, El Mayor, Thunderstrike and Kervan we... we could not do anything. They have thousands thousands of ships. Their fleet is ready to embark and conquer earth and we can’t stop them.
Khan stood up from the chair. Wearing his usual black drapes. His massive figure is on display. In ancient times they called him Atlas the Gods of old called him the pillar that holds the earth. A titan.
Khan leaves the ship with no word or thought.
He hates being the ender of worlds. He hates knowing that all the innocent people will have to die for their kinsmen’s irrationality and inability to prosper peacefully. Khan’s power is truly immense.
Khan swings his massive arm and opens a portal to his destination.
Reda as beautiful as ever. Reda was a beautiful planet with all types of imaginable vegetation and fauna. The native Redan’s are peaceful people who where conquered by the tyrannical Surenos... Khan was their leader. He conquered half the universe. When he came upon earth he saw that it was good. He stayed and vowed to protect it. So long that humans remain neutral in cosmic warefare. So long they do not do what he did.
War was coming to Earth and its starting point was Reda where all the forces of the surenos were stationed.
As Khan ingested the statuesque scenery he noticed a camp through the thick vegetation. As he approached he realised it was the Redan’s
I come in peace. I am here to save you. Though your planet will be ashes.
The Redan’s know Khan’s face after all you dont become the Khan of the universe and not be hated and recognised everywhere this side of the galaxy.
The Redan’s peaceful and smart knew that Khan was no longer a threat. He was a true king now. He did not lead by fear or power. He lead with inspiration.
Khan quickly opens a portal... Go. No time. They’re coming.
The last of the Redan’s, Khan maybe counted 50 in total. In his mind he thought A whole planet of people is left with only 50 natives because of my people because of what I indoctrinated into them. Fate is such... I began this and I shall end this.
Khan built up power in his massive powerful legs and jumped... Though it wasn’t a jump. He flew. He knew the highest peak in Reda is actually a nest. The natives called him Umburu. In eternal sleep the sky demon was entrapped in the mountain by Khan years before.
Khan flew straight into the mountain destroying it completely.
Demon. You are free. This planet is yours. You shall keep it preserved for when I return.
Instead of destroying the whole planet Khan decided to purify this world of evil. Demons are evil but fiercely protective of their habitat.
A deafening shriek and a flap of wings whuuump whuump and umburu was in the sky again. As soon as the demon was in the sky. Khan jumped again and flew well above the Demon. He wanted to see.
Umburu now nosediving straight for the fleet his eyes start to electrify !POOF! He sends a massive storm cloud that fired lightning with great power at every single ship. In minutes it was done. Thousands of oppressors killing thousands of innocents.
Am I any different now?
Am I still Khan the conqueror.
As the deed was done. The demon now taking his human form flies up to Khan.
Khan you freed me so I can kill your people?
I am no longer of that cloth. I do not crave to kill or conquer.
I want peace.
He falls into a portal back to his dwelling.
The pain Khan feels for the horror he has caused is immeasurable. He killed his entire race. He is the last. | 2021-05-26T03:08:56 | 2021-05-26T01:46:59 | 352 | 65 |
[WP] The oracle has predicted that a young citizen will kill the emperor in 20 years time. Knowing this, the Emperor puts out an order to kill all of the children in the empire. The advisors to the Emperor and the Army hold a forum. However, this time around, they’re a little more… rational. | They decree that in 20 years time the poorest man in the city will be made Emperor for a year.
Twenty years pass. The poor man is made Emperor. Immediately, he empties the kingdom's coffers, building and repairing, distributing food, funding schools. He spends every penny, as fast as he can, knowing he is doomed to die whent he proohecy is fulfilled.
The kingdom rejoices under his reign, while the rest of governance balks, and plots his demise, in fear of losing their place.
After all, what use is the Ministry Of Protection From Shoplifters when food and clothing are given away, and the poor no longer need steal to survive? What use is the Ministry of Reading And Announcing News if people can read for themselves?
The new Emperor, with the last penny spent, smiles, prepared to die happy, knowing he has done all he could for his people.
But it is not his fate to die. The prophecy was addressed to the old emperor, who hides in a beach side bungalow, pretending to be the old uncle of a servant's family.
He basks in the sun, and dangles his feet into the waves. He supervises as his pretend nephew casts a line into the water, and pulls out a fish.
He thinks to himself that he should do this more often, and swims in the crisp, cool water, the way the children are doing.
The storm comes in fast, too fast to flee. He and the many children are caught in the wild, churning waters.
But there! A boat! Piloted by a child hardly older than those swimming - and it comes for him. The boy pulls others into the boat, and then, unknowingly, the Emperor.
"Go now to shore!" The Emperor cries in fear, but the child refuses, keeps paddling toward other children. "To shore! To shore!" He shrieks, panick growing.
He realizes the boy won't listen, and tries to throw him from the boat. The other children smack him with paddles, with fishing floats, they shove and punch him, kick his shins and bite his wrists.
He falls into the water, tangled in fishing nets, and watches the dark belly of the boat find the next child to rescue as the water pulls him down. | In an ancient hall, hidden in the catacombs under the Imperial Capital City, a meeting was being held by the greatest minds of the Empire.
The advisors, ministers, and generals of the Emperor have come together to talk about the latest Imperial Order.
&#x200B;
"So, what do you think about His Majesty's latest order?"
The Minister of Finances asked.
"Foolish, and rash. Young citizen could mean the youngest citizen of the Empire, that could mean anyone from 30 to 65."
One of the generals said.
"Also, don't forget about the children born after this year, they will be young citizens as well.
We can't keep killing the children for 20 years, it will cause both man and God to condemn us."
The Minister of Rites said.
"You all forget that we aren't a lonely entity. We have cities, villages, settlements, castles where humans live.
Then we have beasts, monsters, and other races that are also considered as citizens of the Empire.
And lastly, we also have foreign visitors, and tourists, that could also fit the bill of "young citizen", as they also get a foreigner visa, becoming a temporary citizen of our Empire."
The Minister of Foreign Relations chimed in.
&#x200B;
They discussed the loopholes of the prophecy for an entire hour, before calming down.
"Albeit this is outrageous, the Emperor believes it, what can we do?"
A general asked.
"The Emperor is 45 this season, while the Crown Prince is 21, we might need to hasten the succession process."
One of the advisors said.
"Since the Emperor doesn't listen, it's one of the sensible choices...
But it's still treason, and hard to be done, with a paranoid Emperor, who trusts only the Death Guard."
Another general said.
&#x200B;
"The oracle has two sons, and a daughter.
We might have to work with him."
The Minister of the Defences said.
"He is a greedy monster, who is only lucky due to being a distant relative of the royal family.
With the proper means, we... we could make him work for us."
The Minister of the Finances said.
"Force him to say what? What could make the Emperor give up the throne, and let the benevolent Crown Prince to rule?"
A general asked.
&#x200B;
"How about: "After Your Majesty's decision, the Gods sent me another vision, chaos and flames engulf the Empire, while yourself, and your bloodline will end at the hands of an unseen enemy".
The Emperor then would ask for a solution, which would be: "Abdicate, and let Your son rule in Your place.
You will enjoy a long life, being the previous Emperor, You would have all the luxuries if not more than You have now."."
An advisor said.
The greatest minds of the Empire thought about it, and decided it would be a good try.
"The Emperor believes such nonsense, so I say it's worth a shot."
A general said.
"Worst case scenario, we force him to abdicate."
The Prime Minister said.
Everyone nodded.
&#x200B;
That night, the oracle woke the Emperor up, being all pale, saying he had a terrifying vision.
The Emperor listened to the oracle's words, and the next day he announced his abdication, while setting the coronation of the Crown Prince, ten days later.
After the coronation, the Empire prospered, and peace deals were made with 2 neighbouring countries.
The young Emperor opened up academies to help educate the commoners, while also marrying several foreign princesses, as to consolidate the peace deals.
Inadvertently, the decision made for the sake of the children, made by the most important people in the Empire, made more waves than they ever imagined, giving birth to the greatest, and wisest Empire, the continent ever saw. | 2021-08-03T01:06:08 | 2021-08-02T22:35:09 | 125 | 70 |
[WP] You lost your sight, along with everyone else on earth in the great blinding. Two years later, your sight returns. As you look around, you realize that every available wall, floor, and surface has been painted with the same message - "Don't tell them you can see"
I get that this is a repost, can we just chill and enjoy the new stories. | I cannot seem to remember what I looked like. It was probably the only positive effect the great blinding had. I did not care what I looked like, who was there to judge? I finally felt free in that regard. I thought it would be much better when I did not care what people think of me. But in reality it was an absolute nightmare. You see, there is nothing. No one cares how they appear so they are free do to the worst. The past two years have been hell. Some people did terrible things out of fear and self-defense, others just saw the opportunity for greed and took it, they didn't even dare to hesitate.
I was on exchange when it happened, more than 500 kilometers away from any family member of mine. I picked out the fucking worst time to go on exchange. Can you imagine what the first days were like in a house full of students you barely know? First we were all so helpful in between the screaming and yelling. But then we didn't have food anymore and everyone started to group together against others. Slowly but surely every group was destined to fall. I remember when it still was the entire house against all outsiders. Then it was this floor vs that one. This group vs that one. Ultimately, everyone for themselves.
I could call (after calling a hundred different numbers) my parents, but only for the first week as all infrastructure broke down. We had no internet. No way of reaching each other. It was hell. I wanted to go to my family but I couldn't possibly walk so far. Hell, even going to the supermarket was a battle. I felt all alone. I was all alone. My only companion was the sharp kitchen knife that I managed to acquire the first day. We were inseparable since. My knife and my hunger. The latter seemed to accompany me as well. Hunger had many friends.
After a while society resumed, as people needed to group together to survive. It was the only way towards life. We needed each other. But it never resumed back to what it was. The earth was a breeding ground for violent gangs and dictators. Countries had failed. The world used to be so small, now our little block became the entire world. The dictator became our God. I didn't like living in the gang, but it was not like I had an option. Nothing to fall back to except death. I climbed up the social ladder through my sheer will to live and return to my family. It was my goal to see society succeed yet again, so I could take a fucking train back home.
I, along with others of the group were out on a mission to get food. The nearest supermarkets had been subject to many raids, they were all empty. It was dangerous to cross the street. The walls had directions caved into them. Our gang had marked the entire block, making it easy to navigate. But as of right now we would be walking into new territory. If the territory belonged to no one, it would belong to Dmitri now. If it did belong to someone, well... it would still end up belonging to Dmitri in the end. Death was not an option for me.
It was exactly during this expedition that the unthinkable happened. My right hand was following the wall, my left hand was stretched out far in front of me. I was guiding the way, all the others behind or next to me. I started to get light headed, but ignored it as I thought it was the pressure of being up front. Suddenly, my legs stopped working and I fell to the ground. I could only push myself towards the wall as I fell. I had no control over my body anymore. The sheer terror I held was indescribable. Around me people were screaming.
I began to see light once my eyes had opened again. I saw people running around, slowly backing up, and I noticed that I was being dragged over the pavement. I looked up and saw the blue sky, the sun reigning over it.
'What a weird dream' I mutter. It was only in my dreams that I could see. But they started getting less in frequency and accuracy as time went by. This one, however, was beautiful. My eyes started to water.
'Shut the fuck up idiot.' Vasya said, pausing every so words to take a breath.
I looked at where the sound came from and saw a scrawny looking dude with dark brown hair, cut in an unevenly manner. His cheekbones were well defined, a clear sign of hunger. He was dragging my body across the pavement.
I slowly realized what was happening, but I didn't want to register what was going on.
'Who are you?' I asked.
'Vasya.'
Vasya, I thought, *that* is what he looked like?
'Fucking run yourself if you're conscious.' he proclaimed as he dropped me to ground.
'Hurry the fuck up, the other gang is attacking us.' He added whisperingly, as he stood there sweating and completely out of breath.
I could not move. I looked around me. There was a road. Dead, decaying bodies. Trash all over the place. Buildings that were falling apart. It was absolutely beautiful. My god, to be able to see. I could always feel the warmth of the sun, but now I could see it as well. The wall next to me caught my eye.
'*Don't tell them you can see.'*
I looked around and saw it painted everywhere, on every building, on every window.
I could see the other gang approaching us, they all were looking with their hands in front of them and their weapons on display, not that there would be anyone to see it. No one except me.
Vasya tapped me on my shoulder motioning me to go, or as he would say: get the fuck up. He could sense the presence of others without looking, as their breaths drew closer.
It is probably a purely human instinct that I thought I lost, to sense the gaze of someone that is looking at you. Then I saw him. He was standing above the rest of his gang, in the middle of a building without a roof. He stared me right into my eyes. I immediately knew that he could see. He looked like the only person with a soul behind his eyes. We held eye contact for as long as I could, until I was dragged away by Vasya. Again. I turn myself to Vasya, a sound escaping my mouth. Eager to tell him, but unable to formulate my thoughts.
I look once more at the guy in the building. I could look at all the things in the world but my eyes could only go to him. He shook his head. *Don't tell them you can see.* | Warm sunlight. It’s always been there to care for me. Feeling the warmth always taught me to remember my mortality. Reminisce in the good in your life. I always took time to note my positives while sitting in the sunlight. Such a peaceful ordeal.
Those moments come far and few in between these days.
Memorials for every crashed vehicle are seemingly endless. Seeking the bodies is futile, as no one can see where they’re at. The world’s governments fought hard to secure funding for braille- both teaching how to read it and transcribing it over. Every human going blind is not the setback you necessarily want from society, but I guess it’s what we needed. It’s an endless process, with more deaths occurring every day. Nothing like during the beginning, but two years out and we seemingly got a handle on most things. Trade occurs on a more local scale and the global economy shrunk back down to its pre-WWI era size. Even walking down the street has become an act of congress.
Literally.
H.R. 7-9281 dictates all travel must be done with a partner or guide of some sort, preferably a person with former experience in dealing with blindness.
I guess when you take away someone’s sight, they begin to cooperate a bit more in terms of litigation. Human rights cases have seen a revival that has yet to simmer down, and access to social welfare has shifted, quite violently if you ask me, from something of a conservative essence to that of a liberal’s wet dream.
Yes, the warm sunlight has always kept me warm, and I never wanted to lose touch with that small piece of peace I was afforded. Even after the Great Blinding I found time to figure out how I could touch that sweet, sweet sunlight again.
So imagine my surprise when, after two arduous years, I am suddenly able to see out of my window again. No more fumbling with a walking stick, or clicking like some socially stunted bat (who failed to recognize the limits of their own hearing). I could finally stand up, walk to a window, and feel the sun again. It was blissful, almost euphoric. It is odd, though. The warmth isn’t as inviting this time.
Looking out, I saw the streets of Manhattan that were once bustling with cars now a delightful scene- a city wide farmers market, shrouded in crumbling architecture. The Chrysler Building was riveted with holes, each open window frame a gravestone to the mishaps that occurred. Amongst my elation is an overwhelming sense of dread, disbelief, and shock. I knew we were losing grip with maintenance of our infrastructure, but seeing it firsthand was anything but peaceful. To my left I witnessed the enthralling image of a small plane, nestled snugly in between the upper floors of the neighboring structure.
“Hello, Sam.”
I jump. I had not known I was in the presence of another.
“Please. Sit.”
It was at this point I began to take in my surroundings. On the far side of the room stood a tall figure, cloaked in a dark cloud of inquisition. Surrounding him was the room I remembered, only this time far more dusty and disheveled than I had left it. The most striking feature, however, was the prevalence of a phrase written on almost every flat surface: “don’t tell them you can see.”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“It would be easier if you sat first.”
In the haze of my re-established reality, I made my way to my bed. Without losing eye contact, I shift my focus to the towering figure.
“Two years ago, my species made its way to your planet. Earth.”
“I know where I live……” I say, stewing in the childish nature this individual made me feel.
“Yes, good.
On many occasions we felt it necessary to contact your planet for….. business purposes. Often, we found little to no response, if any at all. This isn’t anything of concern, of course, we have dealt with primitive life forms before!” He says, chucking. “So, of course, we set out to consolidate our position for the sake of expediency. After all, time is of the essence! It was shocking to meet such an advanced civilization right here in this ubiquitous galaxy.”
I take note of his features, or rather, lack thereof. The form was all there, laced in a misty haze. As for any discernible detail, I couldn’t name one. It was clear, if this being could see me, I didn’t know how. The inordinacy of this event, from start to finish, has always kept me in disbelief. While I should be mortified at being caught defenseless with a stranger, I knew that nothing else could possibly shock me any further. Global blindness? Okay. Misty figures? Sure.
“See, my species is from a part of the universe your people have been unable to see with your own technology. We originate from a galaxy beyond the constellation you call ‘Scorpio’. Our point of origin, our planet and its fellow celestial bodies, exist on the fringe of reality. Your kind calls our planet a ‘Black Hole.’ Which is funny, because per our understanding, a hole is something you can pass through. I assure you, Sam, my planet is just as firm as yours.”
I try to understand, but his story comes off seemingly disjointed.
“What?” Is all I can muster. “What do you mean?”
“What I mean is, I was born into a world like no other. We require intense levels of energy to sustain ourselves, characterized by our fondness for breaking apart stars. What you think is being torn apart thanks to natural causes, is actually just my kind working to assimilate such power into our energy grid. This extends into ourselves as well. My home is lit with starlight, but so is my soul.
The only problem is, the intergalactic panel prohibits the destruction of stars that are home to beings of high consciousness. Basically, only some stars are up for grabs. It isn’t often we find one that is nearby and ready for the taking.”
His words sink in, and I realize what his point is.
“We….. hold on. You’re telling me the human race aren’t beings of high consciousness?”
He laughs again, in a way that reminds me of a mother to a child.
“Yes, you are. It seems the panel somehow forgot to include a few details on your solar system. We do apologize for taking your star, but I promise there is a contingency plan in place, active as we speak.”
I freeze at the phrase ‘taking your star,’ baffled at the idea of seeing someone causally walk away with one.
“Hold on, you’re telling me you stole our sun?”
“Yes, but your entire solar system has been kept in stasis. We have ensured no planetary bodies are able to fall off course. This does mean, however, that your kind has lost the ability to see well. In the darkness, we found that your people naturally lose your ability to perceive light. This is an unfortunate setback, and we are trying our best to resolve this issue.”
It clicks, albeit in a slow and unrelenting manner.
“You took our Sun and made us blind?” the disbelief dripping from my tone. “This doesn’t make any sense, why can I see then? Why are you talking with me and not the president or something?”
Again, he chuckles, although this time I can feel the remorse coming through.
“We plan on coming back, but until then, we ask that you not disclose your current condition. It seems allowing such a disparity to slip out may create some controversy. Plus, we wouldn’t be able to meet with a global celebrity. Hence why we have forgone contacting world leaders. Agendas, exposing extraterrestrial concepts, fixing an entire race’s disability. It’s all a bit much to handle.”
I lie back, peeking out into the daylight. The sky is as blue as ever, and the sun still shines as it always did.
“What’s that in the sky?” I turn to ask.
He is gone.
(Edits: grammar)
[Clarity](https://www.reddit.com/user/homie_19/comments/r58nxu/clarity/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) | 2021-11-29T04:16:03 | 2021-11-29T00:57:33 | 548 | 278 |
[WP] In the final moments of the battle, all seemed lost. The hero stood bleeding and broken before the demons feet. Then, out of no where, a mad man in pajamas punches the demon so hard its insides became outsides. No one knows who this strange man was or where he went too. | Gibraltar stood, barely. His eyes locked on the demon across from him. Nothing was said but they both knew.
Gibraltar, the hero was not going to win this fight.
As Gibraltar fell at the demons feet, still trying to fight, all he could hear was laughing. It was almost deafening to him. a voice so loud if shook the air and the city around them.
"Foolish hero. You gambled and lost. No backup, no help," The demon said before he paused and crouched down grabbing the hero by the face.
"No hope." Gibraltar closed his eyes hearing that. he could feel the grip tightening, and worried this was how he died. he head crushed like over ripe fruit. He couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image.
"Good laugh all the way to the Grave. Look at me, LOOK AT ME" The Demon said, firmly in control of the situation. Gibraltar opened his eyes in time to watch the demons head explode in a fine mist. They both fell to the ground, the demon falling for the last time. Looking up Gibraltar was astonished not to see another hero but a regular human. A very angry regular human staring at the demons body. As his eyes closed and he passed out he could hear one thing and one thing only.
"It is 3AM and some of us have to work in the morning... SHUT UP!" | "N..no! I refuse to fall here! I'm not done yet, I'll never let you win!"
"Ahh but I've already won, you poor, misguided insect. Once I've finished you off there will be no one left who can resist me!" Spittle leaked from the creature's mouth as he finished spitting the words with a cruel smile upon his face.
"I told you I'm not done yet!" The hero unsteadily stumbles to his feet, bleeding from a dozen soon-to-be fatal wounds. The demon's smile momentarily diminishes somewhat as the hero stands, but as the blood flows from his body they both know the hero is dying.
Suddenly the demon glances away and his cruel smile returns, "ahh even better, I'll show you exactly what I'm going to do to your people, hero! This insect is the perfect subject for a demonstration!" The demon speaks with glee as he takes a step toward the unseen civilian.
Turning to see who has approached, the hero sees something unexpected. A small, bald man has approached wearing an odd yellow jumpsuit. Not a reinforced, protective jumpsuit designed for heroes like his own, but one commonly bought and used as pajamas for children. A white cloth cape flows from his back, looking almost majestic despite the cruel circumstances this man has just stumbled into.
"No, run civilian! He's far too strong now, not even I can defeat him, you must run the hero association and tell them what's occurred here, its humanity's only remaining chance!" Tears dot the corners of his eyes as he waves the man away, knowing he can't outrun the demon anyway.
"Ya did good, fighting him off this long. But don't worry, I'm here now," the bald man gives the hero a soft smile as he speaks.
"Don't take your eyes off of him! He-" the demon disappears in a blur of motion as the hero cries out. He squeezes his eyes shut, knowing what's coming. He feels blood and gore streak his face and body as he hears an incredibly powerful strike make contact.
The hero sobs, "I can't save anyone... I'm too weak!" He feels his body swell as the emotions tear him apart inside. "I won't let you win!" He removes the mental restrictions he kept on his powers, the restrictions that keep him from tearing his own body apart with his abilities.
He finally opens his eyes, his face streaked with rage and despair as he stands and turns to face the demon.
The hero raises his eyes, dreading seeing the mangled corpse of the man in the pajamas, but as his eyes come to focus he stops in place, his jaw dropping.
"Hey, he's gone now, don't worry," the man in the yellow jumpsuit smiles at the hero, his fist and half of his body completely drenched in blood. Just in front of him the ground is covered with gore in a cone going out 50 feet or more, the demon had been reduced to nothing.
"But... what.. who are you? What happened?"
"Name's Saitama, I'm just a guy who's a hero for fun," and, giving the hero a final smile and a wave, the civilian disappeared like he'd never been there to begin with. | 2021-12-18T14:16:34 | 2021-12-18T14:15:50 | 654 | 370 |
[WP] You did awful, horrible things and served the tyrannical government with the promise of resurrecting your long-dead spouse. You finally capture the legendary rebel against this government. Who upon closer inspection, was your spouse. | “It’s surprising how much people can change.”
Those words cut deeper than my recently-obtained dagger wound, which smarted and ached with even the most minute of movements. Somehow, even a finger wag would send pulses of pain through every nerve.
But she was right. Just a few years ago, this would have made me woozy, short of breath, and struggling to even stay upright. Now, I walked towards her, wary eyes scanning her—despite the restraints tying her down.
“Emily,” I said.
“Don’t say my name.”
“Emily,” I sighed. “You… of all the people. Of all the things. I didn’t expect you to be under that mask.”
“And I didn’t expect you to show your face,” Emily spat. “Generally, criminals tend to hide their faces.”
“I’m not…” I clenched my fist, bearing her judgemental eyes, my nails digging into my palm, and felt the gash screaming at me. “I betrayed my principles to save you. They said I could revive you.”
“Does that help you sleep at night?”
I stayed quiet, trying to stare past the steely face she presented. This wasn’t just Emily’s face—it was the visage of the rebellion, the Riot herself.
“I betrayed my principles to get you back,” I growled. “And what about you?”
“I dived into my principles because I thought I wasn’t getting you back,” she whispered, turning her gaze downwards. “And now that you stand before me, I’m more afraid than ever that it’s true.”
This is the face I’ve been working to unmask for the better part of a decade, and set my heart on ripping apart if it meant I could get Emily back. The face that now showed a flicker of vulnerability, an expression that tore my heart apart.
So how do I reconcile those two objectives, now that they were one and the same? They’ve changed drastically—but how will I change?
“Some couple we are,” I said.
“Some couple we were.”
In seconds, I snapped the bonds that held her down. Cold, puzzled eyes stared into me.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“You’re alive,” I said. “That’s all that matters.”
“They’ll kill you,” she said.
“They’ll kill *you*,” I said. “If you don’t get the hell out of here.”
Her hand lurched out, grasping at my wrist.
“And you’re going to stay here?”
I shook it loose, looking towards the skyline. I thought I could hear the beating of helicopter wings, the sly footsteps of agents creeping in.
“Somebody needs to explain for your disappearance.”
“That’s crazy talk,” Emily said.
“If I’m here, you might get a couple of hours before they try and chase you down. If I’m not, you’ll never leave this place. It’s crawling. I can feel it.”
How will I change?
“It’s not that easy. It won’t be easy,” I said. “But give me some time. Some more time to change. I’ll find you again.”
“How?”
“I found you once,” I smiled. “I’ll find you again.”
“And you’ll be an agent of terror?”
“No,” I said. “I’ll be a free man.”
My mind couldn’t accept the words I were saying. Props to the brainwashing department.
But my heart did. And that was change enough.
---
r/dexdrafts | A single, well-placed shot in the back of the man's neck. Was it cowardly? Perhaps. But I'd stoop to levels you can't even imagine if I thought it might alleviate the burden in my heart.
Clarissa was a chain-smoking poet. A neurotic schoolteacher. A daughter. A wife. A mother. She remained in the souls of many, a candle that refused getting snuffed out, and my memories of her I count as my greatest treasures.
The Marsoigne demanded obedience and respect of its authority. They employed the fiercest warriors as well as the finest magicians in the realm. Their monopoly on violence allowed them to impose order on the chaos of nature, though some felt their influence to be suffocating. That included the man before me--the Baron of Madness--who had brought the Marsoigne to its knees.
"Capture the Baron, and we will grant you free access to our magicians. That includes, of course, our necromancer."
The promise of the councilor reverberated in my mind. Even as a vague reanimation, I'd cherish her. She lived on in my dreams. To have her by my side in waking as well; I'd do anything for such a chance. Which was why I agreed to hunt down the Baron of Madness.
"In the children's eyes, I see hope," Clarissa had once told me. "I want to protect that hope."
A butcher's apprentice told me he had been spotted walking down a certain alleyway, and I wasted no time on stalking the anarchist down. Radical factions bred violence and strife. How many others would lose their loved ones were the Baron allowed to carry out his sinister operations? I couldn't bear the thought.
Now he was splayed before me, having become himself the chaotic mess he sought for our realm. I spat at his back. "You made a mistake, going against the Marsoigne," I said. The corpse had no reply. I imagined the Marsoigne necromancers would bring the wretched soul back to life, only to torture him anew. That was the cost of his madness. There would be no rest. Only suffering.
"Let's see then," I said, before I turned the man over. I had some guesses as to his secret identity. Rumors had spread throughout the realm like the plague. Some assured me it was the police inspector Francois Ribbner. Others guessed it would have to be some wicked criminal, or an operative from a hostile nation. Personally, I believed the Baron of Madness to be the belligerent son of a low-ranking politician. The rot of idealism could very well grow from such a fine source of dung.
Just as I imagined the return of my dear Clarissa, I saw her. With a hole in her neck.
"C-Clare?" I said.
Months prior I had buried her. We lowered her coffin into the ground and covered it with soil. I held a eulogy. Our families came together in mourning. So why did the Baron of Madness have her face?
Still believing it to be some sort of ruse, I searched her clothes. There was a piece of bread and a note. Several names were crossed out. The Baron was delivering food to starving families?
There were no weapons or explosive devices of any kind. No traces of destruction or anarchy. No radical pamphlets or conspiratorial letters.
All the Baron carried was hope.
I sank to my knees, and I held Clarissa in my arms. For a moment I thought the best course of action would be to join her. Then I remembered the necromancers of the Marsoigne. I could clearly recognize Clarissa as the loving woman I married. They would only see the Baron of Madness. If they were to reanimate her ...
The councilor went pale when he saw me return dressed in the garb of the Baron. "I have deceived you," I told him. "I will turn myself in, if you will promise to honor our agreement. My wife had nothing to do with my scheming. She was a mere schoolteacher. You might expect an increase in rank if it becomes known that you captured the Baron of Madness. Otherwise, you might expect a bullet."
"Are you threatening me?" the councilor said.
"Quite so," I assured him. "So what do you say? I take it you are amenable to threats?"
I knew the man well enough to know that he took the matter of honor seriously.
The councilor let out a brief sigh, then said, "Very well. I don't fully understand your intentions, but our agreement still stands." After a silence, he added, "Tell me, were you thinking of delivering to me some patsy? Was your plan to hand the Marsoigne a fake Baron and have the poor soul tortured?"
"Absolutely," I said. "That was my original plan."
"In that case," said the councilor, "what made you change your mind?"
"I suppose I'd rather be a martyr," I told him, and I could spot a wry smile on his lips.
"Even a fake martyr would inspire hope in the peasants, wouldn't he?"
"Perhaps you are right," I said. And for the sake of Clarissa's schoolchildren, I hoped that he truly was. I also hoped I would live on in her heart, as she had in mine. | 2022-03-08T04:40:20 | 2022-03-08T03:59:03 | 904 | 176 |
[WP] "Oh, screw you! Don't blame the science department for this mess. The science went PERFECTLY. It's not OUR fault that corporate decided to skimp out on the compound's security and containment systems" | “Can I be clear about this gentlemen? I have in front of me a paper trail stretching back nearly two years of every email, call and memo I have sent out discussing my worries about the state of this facility's chrono-shielding.”
Dr Harriet Landen’s deceptively calm words fill the boardroom, washing over the faces of the smartly dressed men in front of her. Powerful figures working for an even more powerful organisation, all of which were looking at her now like ants contemplating the steady approach of a vacuum cleaner wondering what the sound might herald.
“I contacted security and was told that it was ‘being looked into’ and ‘not a present priority’".
She gesture’s without looking away from her notes towards a large bald man, his face a knot of scar tissue that had taken one eye with it. His remaining orb refuses to meet the glare of Dr Landen’s finger.
“I spoke to the budgeting department and was left with a stack of figures that almost snapped my desk, all while asking me where I expected us to get the money from. I don’t know Keith, and do you know why I don’t know? Because I don’t work in the god damn budgeting department.”
Keith, for his part, looks like he wants to melt and drip down from his ergonomic chair and pool under the table away from the growing rage. Unfortunately for him the molecules in his body refuse this request, leaving him in the firing range.
“Worst of all, I spoke to you Director. On multiple occasions. Each and every time you assured me that my worries would be addressed, that teams were looking into the possibility and that I should ‘continue to keep an open dialogue with you’. Well guess what? Here I am, still keeping that dialogue firmly open. Thrown wide and screaming because today is the day I get to tell you all I GOD DAMN TOLD YOU SO.”
“Harriet-”
A cold voice attempts to cut her off, an attempt that fails miserably. The Director was not a man used to being interrupted, let alone actively talked over. Today however he wasn’t willing to pull rank and play the title game. After all, she was right.
“Don’t you Harriet me. It’s Dr Landen if you are lucky right now, and judging by what’s happening outside the windows I don’t think you are. You asked me to gather a team and make a working prototype. To push the boundaries of physics and go out into the frontier to see what I could find.”
“Well guess what? You got what you wanted. It’s sat five floors under this room currently ripping the dampening tiles off the walls and atomising them before scattering those atoms between ancient Rome and the primeval soup. Congratulations gentlemen, you got your time machine.”
“Only one teeny, tiny, little problem. A small one which, being that you all are being of such infinite intellect who clearly know better than me when it comes to safety protocols, I am sure you can all solve for me.”
“When that thing went off an hour ago, in a cascade event the likes of which I predicted and sent nearly SEVENTEEN TIMES across notes to each of you, and ripped us and half the building with it back into the Jurassic era… did any of you maybe have a contingency plan in place? A way of getting us back to the present or at the very least into the same timeline?”
Her questions are met with silence. The same silence that has been growing from all other members of the board as they wait for the tirade to end, hoping for a light at the end of the tunnel and not just further smackdown.
“No? Well, I guess it’s down to me then. I’m going to go downstairs, scream obscenities while reciting each of your names, find the nearest coffee machine to drain and then work on saving all our lives with my team. If you need me, follow the noise, I’m sure there will be plenty. Until then you are all welcome to sit here and wait until I come back with a proposal.”
“And to be clear, when I walk back through that door with a materials list in hand, if I hear a SINGLE complaint from any of you, I’m perfectly happy to let you replace me. Perhaps you’ll find a more compliant t-rex outside who is better at taking orders. I’m certainly willing to watch and find out.”
With this, Dr Landen turns and leaves the room, slamming the door behind her on the way out and heading for the stairs, all while trying to ignore the roars and howls of the large beasts just barely kept at bay by the facility's walls. It was going to be another long day. | "You need to give it more energy. We are so close"
"Mr. Scott, we are at 21.2 Gigawatts already, we rated it safe for 20. We will need to make adjustments if you want to go higher; we need to make it bigger so we don't trigger..."
"I don't care, I want to finally see a portal now". He pushed me aside from the control panel. My warnings were ignored. I sent a prayer to god, hoping we were somehow too cautious estimating and the safety margin was big enough for his deeds. I stared through the safety glass window at the machine below. The temperature rose dangerously quick. But, unfortunately, we nailed it. As the sensors reported 24.3GW, BANG.
A bright flash of light erupted as the machine core started to react. Despite the safety goggles, I was blinded. With no delay, the lights went out, the entire factory running on the emergency power supply. Probably vaporized the supply wires or the main fuse. And by vaporize I do mean gaseous metal, yes. Please, don't make this a national blackout. As my vision returned, I found the safety glass window cracked, but otherwise intact. It probably blew out the entire glass roofing through. Smoke made it hard to see anything in the hall.
It was too late when I noticed Tony storming into the hall with a fire extinguisher and a discharge gun. "TONY, NO!" I tried to stop him, but he ignored me. I prayed again, this time that Tony would somehow manage to defuse the bright white shine that enlightened the room. But, no response and it kept on glowing brighter and brighter.
"You RUINED the experiment, my life's work, EVERYTHING!" my boss yelled at me with his face glowing red. Normally, I am a quiet guy. Research and crafting have been my passion ever since. Don't disturb me and I'm not going to make a fuzz about anything. But these words and the sheer ignorance of all our warnings ... made me snap for the first time in years.
"SCREW YOU IRWIN! Don't blame us for this mess. The science went PERFECTLY. It's not OUR fault that YOU decided to skimp out on the security and containment systems and blew ALL our warnings. We told you AT LEAST A MILLION TIMES to install emergency dischargers in case of a fusion reaction kicking off in the system. But YOU said, 'that's 50 grand, we don't have money for that.'"His expression showed me that my SpongeBob imitation of the last words was on point. "THIS IS A FUCKING 6 MILLION PROJECT FUNDED BY TAXPAYER MONEY AND YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR ALL OF THIS FOR NOT WANTING TO SPEND FIFTY FUCKING THOUSAND DOLLARS," I yelled. I breathed heavily. I'm not used to speaking that loud.
I continued as he wasn't responding "NOW LOOK, IT'S MELTING NOW. THREE MILLION DOLLARS MELTING LIKE SNOW ON THE ROAD. I QUIT!"
Irwin Scott scared at me, furious. But he knew I was right. Everything I and my ~~four~~ three partners said came true. I wanted to beat the shit out of him, but I wouldn't win that one, he was lifting weights. Instead, I resumed staring at the bright orb, that somehow started to move. Uncontrolled fusion. Great. The orb started to grow long. I thought about running away as the whole thing surely could go kaboom. But somehow, the interest stopped me. I picked up my phone and started recording. Even if I was atomized now, the video would be safe in the cloud. Everybody should see how I died if it came to this. And maybe I would capture something worthy.
The orb was now a cylinder, maybe 7 feet tall. It should choose a ball form, after all, there was some significant mass involved. But somehow it wasn't. The cylinder split at the bottom. Something started to grow out at the top. I was at the end of my science, so I just observed. Then I realized what it was morphing into. A human shape. It came closer and closer to the safety glass, flying upwards. I could feel its mass slightly pulling me towards him. I took three steps back but made sure to keep it in focus.
The creature phased through the glass, disintegrating it into smoke. The creature looked at me. At least I think that was what it did, there was no face. Just a bright light, fueled by a fusion reaction inside. "Tony, is that you?" I asked.
"Î̴͓ṫ̶̮ ̵͉͊w̴̥̆a̸̼͆s̵̢̃ ̸̖̔m̶̰̾e̶̪͑" a robotic voice responded. "N̴̨̍ó̶̙ẅ̵͔́ ̴̻́Ǐ̵̘'̷̜̑m̵̩̈́ ̷̮́ě̴͈n̴̦̐e̸̱͋r̷͉̐g̶̢͝y̵͚̑"
Tony must have absorbed the energy somehow. Had he nose-dived into the orb? Would fit him.
"T̶h̶e̸ ̵o̷r̶b̴ ̸c̸o̷n̶s̸u̵m̴e̷d̶ ̵m̴e̶" the voice responded. Tony, are you reading minds?
"Y̴e̸s̵!" The longer he spoke, the clearer his voice got. "It's all energy!"
He turned to my boss "You destroyed me. Now you shall pay." Before Irwin could even turn, lightning struck him, the bright light forcing me to cover my eyes. When I looked back, his mouth was gone, he had a pig snout and his skin color was bright orange.
Then he turned to me. "It's all energy. Ready for some more research?" Something lifted me off the ground. Oh hell, sure I was.
Tony waved his hands through the air, creating a crack. I stepped through the portal. | 2022-05-09T12:52:09 | 2022-05-09T12:36:43 | 371 | 89 |
[WP]By accident you learned the weakness of the city’s greatest superhero. Though you you know no one would believe you because of how absurd the weakness is, you now find yourself with a superhero willing to do nearly anything for you to keep their weakness a secret. | "Seriously?"
"Yep."
"Just a bottle of coke from the 7-11?"
"Cherry Coke, but yes."
"Not a house or taking care of a bully? Not getting rid of local drug traffickers? Something more, I don't know, heroic?!"
"Shouldn't you already do that last one? And no. Anything too grand or personal paints a target on my back and puts everyone I know at risk. This way, you feel better, my family and friends are safe, and bonus: I get a Cherry Coke."
"Bu-"
"No thanks, dude. Just one Cherry Coke from the 7-11 down the road, and forget we ever met."
"Fine. What did you say your name was?"
"I didn't. Thanks in advance, and good luck with the crime fighting." | "Damn it, I should've looked before-! Son of a BITCH!" he snarled.
I shifted uncomfortably. "... Wyvern?"
The man buried his face in his hands and he sighed.
"...You saw all of that, right?"
I nodded but I wasn't entirely sure what "that" was; he appeared to remove a mask and suddenly he went from a standing dragon with wings to a muscular man with a ponytail. His face had a scar on the left side.
"You... Aren't always a dragon man?" I ventured carefully. "Is the mask the source of your power?"
He winced and my mouth clamped shut. "Sorry, I-"
"No, no.. it's.. it's fine."
He sighed brusquely. "...alright look. In case you haven't noticed, this is a really bad thing for me. People have been hounding me for years on how I attain my form and they've been placated by the idea I just shift innately. if they found out I power down without that mask on... If VILLAINS found this out?? I'm fucked."
He grabbed my shoulders, not hard but firm enough. "You CANNOT tell anyone. Please! For the sake of my identity and for the sake of my safety you can't tell anyone this!!"
I nodded hurriedly. "I- yeah, sure, but what if a villain got the mask?? Wouldn't they turn into-"
"No." He said firmly. "And leave it at that. Seriously, don't approach me again, don't say a word, or both our lives could be in jeopardy. I'll pay you, I can protect someone for you, I don't care if you pull strings but keep your damn mouth shut!"
It was clear desperation was sinking in and I nodded again.
"No, no, it's ok! I won't tell anyone! I was the one who blundered into your secret, I won't expose you like that."
"Good!" He said, his eyes watering slightly.
Putting the mask back on, his wings unfurled as the imposing dragon knight returned.
**"And leave it at that!!"**
He took to the skies with a rush of air, the force strong enough to push me back slightly.
Feeling shaken by what I just witnessed, I hurriedly staggered out of the alley, only to bump into someone.
"Well, well..." They cooed.
I looked up to see a girl in a reflective mask staring down at me.
Dread knotted in my stomach as I stared at Duplicitor
"And I thought ***I*** was the big liar." | 2022-06-29T21:47:13 | 2022-06-29T20:12:29 | 22 | 15 |
[WP] An almost forgotten old God(ess) visited the deathbed of his last follower; The God will die with him/her
No specifics for the God(ess)'s domain; can be cruel or kind. s/he may or may not be aware of its own termination once the follower dies.
EDIT: Damn you guys, you make me tear up. | PATIENT NAME: EIJI NAKAMURA
AGE: 144
DISEASE: STAGE 4 PANCRATIC CANCER, METASTASIZED TO LIVER, COLON, STOMACH
TREATMENT SUGGESTED: TRANSFER OF CONSCIOUSNESS TO DIGITAL FORM
TREATMENT APPLIED: NONE AT PATIENT'S REQUEST
REPORT FROM HEAD DUTY NURSE ON APRIL 13, 2245 FOLLOWS
The patient had a visitor, an old man dressed in a black coat, at around 15 minutes before the end of visiting hours. At first the patient didn't seem to recognize the visitor but after a few words greeted him as an old friend. They spoke for the short period remaining in the visiting hours but something seemed off: the patient seemed to be consoling the visitor as much as the visitor was consoling him. I found this odd as our records show the patient as the last human being to have not accepted a form of immortality treatment available. After 15 minutes as visiting hours were ending the visitor touched the patient at which time the patient's vitals ceased. The visitor backed into a blind spot on the camera and when the nurses rushed into the room the visitor could not be found. Patient's time of death recorded at 1700 hours local time.
ADDENDUM NOVEMBER 26, 2255
CAN CONFIRM PATIENT AS FINAL RECORDED HUMAN DEATH.
END OF FILE
| The sky lit up for a moment though the night was clogged so full of shadow that the stars were blacked out. A flash, a single spark that fell slowly to Morning Glory Hospital.
Again there were lights. Cars moved against time and the hours, people denied nature inside of webs of wires and metal and stone. The spark fell and upon the roof of Morning Glory hospital took form, spread out in arms and legs shaped in clear light. A human figure, of crystal--a second spark above brought down a column of light. The figure drew in the beam and when the darkness swelled back, pushed by Nyx, standing alone was an old man carrying a simple gold staff, wearing a plain white robe.
He moved slowly, strained to the emergency exit and down the stairs. Each step down, his body creaked and by the time he reached the third floor, the night had lost it's control; already, the sun was rising bellow the bowl, driven by horses, cutting away the unknown.
The old man went unseen, unstopped into the hospice section on the third floor. A night nurse did not lift her head as he opened the door to Mr. Tulim's room.
Beside an open window Mr. Tulim, body broken down by age and cancer and life, skin thin as tissue, eyes drawn out and left somewhere outside in the world, took his last breaths through a tube.
The robed man took a seat in the chair beside Mr. Tulim's bed. Taking Tulim's hand into his own, a light spread from his body, filling Tulim's. Someplace before the spindle, before the marshes, before the soul is cut from the body, Mr. Tulim fell back and opened his eyes.
He squinted, blinking, the late night still too bright for his eyes which had been closed for weeks. The robed man undid the tubes going into Tulim's mouth and once freed, Tulim said, with a dry mouth, "I know you."
"You do," the robed man said.
"But are you--who are you?"
And so the god Hyperion put a hand to Mr. Tulim's face and in the touch and exchange memory renewed.
"I have not thought of you for years," Mr. Tulim began to cry.
"This is no time to cry," Hyperion said, with the darkness cut open, filling with twilight. "All things die, from the gnats whose lives last but one day, to the gods bound to ideas of men; even the planets--even my son will one day die, swell up and become alone in space--the rift will swallow all things in the end."
Mr. Tulim could not keep his eyes open. He gripped Hyperion's hand with his last strength, the color put in, being taken back from his face. Tulim's breath grew shorter.
"A little boy," Hyperion smiled, "you once stared at the sun. You did not know anything, but you felt me there in the fire. No one feels me any longer, no one dares look at the sun. All people are content to see the distorted truth--it matters not. Are you ready to go?"
Hyperion sat with Mr. Tulim, with the breaths dragging further apart and when Mr. Tulim drew in air no longer and his skin turned yellow, Hyperion gave one last smile before letting himself go, his light spill out into the room as a white glow.
**edit** | 2014-06-22T15:51:29 | 2014-06-22T13:54:11 | 244 | 67 |
[WP] Every person in the world develops a weird mutation/power the day they turn 16. Everyone's powers are always different, some more insignificant than others. You turn 16, and watch as all your friends discover their newfound ability's. That is, until you discover the severity of your own. | Dear diary,
Today I started to get my super power! Stupid Harvey Deno dumb face got super speed for his birthday. That guy is such a dick. But I got something better, I can hear when someone is thinking about me. I'm going to be such a ladies man! I can't wait to start school tomorrow, it's going to be wicked tits.
Dear diary, everyone noticed the zit..
| "What do you mean I am *normal*" Mellanie screamed at the poor doctor.
He was desperately trying to maintain his composure, stuttering as he tried to begin speaking between her outbursts.
"No, no it's not like that. Mellanie please, listen to me." he pleaded, waving a clipboard over his head like a mother getting an infants attention.
"No! This is terrible! Everyone at school is getting x-ray eyes and super hearing. I haven't developed anything!?" she looked at her father, his lips pursed as his left hand caressed his chin. He was working at a seized muscle in his jaw.
"Well not entirely, please just let me talk. This is truly amazing, I want you to see that." the doctor said, finally getting some traction.
Mellanie huffed and flopped back on the exam table. She slouched against the wall, staring at some fixed point on the floor near the wall. "Fine."
"Ok, Mr. and Ms. Odella, your daughter has in fact developed a mutation - as expected. However, it has expressed itself uh differently if you might." he exchanged nervous glances between Mellanie and his clipboard. "To put it simply, you are immortal."
Her father brought his hands together with an almighty clap, his face wore a grand expression fit for a festival. He held his hands up, proffering some peace to the room.
Mellanie huffed again and maintained her position.
"Don't you see Mel, I can call you Mel right?" the doctor gave her a moment, but she didn't respond. "Your body regenerates at exactly the speed it decays. Biologically, it will repair and enhance over time. If you were to break your arm right now, the scar tissue wouldn't even survive until your 20's. Some of those in the lab have even placed bets that you might survive a fatal injury." he coughed and gave Mellanies parents a guilty expression.
"Look Mellanie, " her mother began, "You don't have to have super sonic hearing or huge muscles to be special. You have the greatest gift of all."
"Yeah, tell that to the kids at school" Mellanie sulked, a hint of relief staining her voice. | 2015-01-21T21:48:36 | 2015-01-21T20:05:45 | 132 | 36 |
[WP] Every person in the world develops a weird mutation/power the day they turn 16. Everyone's powers are always different, some more insignificant than others. You turn 16, and watch as all your friends discover their newfound ability's. That is, until you discover the severity of your own. | It's been like this longer than anyone can remember. When you turn the age of power, or 16 years into your life, you gain your individual power. Everyone is different, some get rudimentary boring powers that aid office work and some get drafted to become soldiers due to their powers.. more destructive capabilities.
The neighbour boy Jon, he was taken away just last month by the military because he could EMP a human brain. He did it to me once, I couldnt use any of my senses for a week. Although to you it may seem strange, as you are not from my existance, this isn't a strange occurence. Lives become fragile once a child reaches the age of power and their power becomes known. Jon joined the Static battalion, they specialize in special-ops warfare, he had been 16 for less than 2-months.
Everyone wants to go to the military, become a specialized soldier and when war comes, you want them to remember the coat of arms you wear to signify your power. You want to be the elite, the squad only known as Winged-bearers. Those who can bring absolute destruction, only called in when the enemy is starting to become dangerous. They are the reapers that signify the end, yet the angels who signify hope. Both good and evil. It was my dream to join them, but now.. Now I know I am not meant to be discovered.
It started with Jon actually. That day he used that EMP on me it stuck with me. I could physically see the formation of the universe change as he bent physics to cause havoc on my sensories. In that brief second that formation became imbedded in my mind and mathematics and designs I should never have been able to solve, seemed so simple. I was able to keep the core concept of his ability, yet I refined it, defined it and changed the aspects of it. I was able to designate the sense I wanted to assault. I could control it in ways it shouldn't be used because it changed the basics of the powers nature. But I did it.
And not just Jon's. Any power I became in-contact with physically, became manifested within my mind and I have been able to modify the core concepts of each one to better enhance the power's magnitude or nature.
To put it simply, I am a book of spells, where everyone on our world has a single power, I now have over 30 and that number is growing daily. Original concepts that I have now altered to best suit me, these powers have made me all but human. Super speed I changed to conceptual phase-walking, rubber limbs changed to impenetrable armour. It is all so simple, the values are my power, the power of comprehending knowledge and concepts that are incomprehensible, that is my power. This is why I am here, talking to some stranger under a bridge. Running from the military, passing through different dimensions. I can't stay in one spot for too long, but even I know that it is futile. One day the military will find me and they will make me join the Wing-bearers, and I fear for the day I come in-contact with their powers. | Markus was ready. On a child's sixteenth birthday, they were given one Opportunity to receive a Gift from Above. Every Gift was more or less unique, and a Gift could be as simple as defiance of gravity or a more complex one like flowing through solid substances. The Gift of predicting weather was rumored to take great effort and still not be very practical, and there were many variations of quick-and-dirty invisibility. Of course, everyone took advantage of their one Opportunity. The last Mundane had died long ago, and everyone knew from their history textbooks that the Mundanes' lives were, well, mundane.
So when Markus turned sixteen, he and Nina, the other new sixteen year old, went together to the Gift center, a towering structure at the center of their great walled city of Tirapolis, to meet their Gift Giver. It was a secret how the Gifts worked, where they came from, and if they had any purpose at all, and nobody would ever talk about how they received their own Gift -- a superstition of sorts. So Markus and Nina followed the Gift Giver with no idea whatsoever of what was going to happen. The Gift Giver led them down a series of dimly lit hallways to a small, simple room. When Markus and Nina later left the room and the Gift center, they separated to test their new Gifts. It took time for Gifts to be understood, and the more specific the Gift the longer it could be before it was revealed.
Five years later, Nina found a job at a Healing center. She did not have a Gift of Healing herself, but Nina's presence slowed the flow of blood in nearby people. Her Gift was very helpful in treating grievous wounds and could also act as a weak sedative. Markus had not been so lucky with his Gift, and it still made no outward appearance. As his friends matured into their own Gifts, they abandoned him one by one, some even avoiding him. Rumors spread about a "Mundane disease" that Markus carried, and some people speculated it might be contagious. Markus knew he had received a Gift, but even he had no idea what it was. The only sign was a constant longing feeling, like something was always missing from his life. With every day, the feeling grew stronger and even gained direction. Desperate to prove to everyone and himself that he wasn't Mundane, he tried to follow the longing feeling, and it tugged at him like an unfinished promise. He followed the feeling to the Tirapolis city limits, where the towering walls encircled the community. Unfortunately, the feeling pointed outside the city. Everyone was told from an early age that there was nothing to be found outside the walls; yet, here was this overpowering feeling that Markus had to leave.
After a few weeks of contemplation, Markus decided that it was worth leaving Tirapolis just for the constant nagging feeling to go away. It made concentration difficult, and there was nothing left for him in the city with everyone afraid of his Mundaneness. Even Nina, who had received her own Gift in the same way as Markus and knew him to be safe, had to avoid him just to keep her own reputation. Markus focused his feelings of inadequacy and loneliness into escaping those who shunned him, and he was rewarded. Taking minimal provisions, Markus escaped the city through an old abandoned tunnel of sorts that lay behind an unused factory.
Outside the walls, Markus was astonished to see Plants. He knew all about Plants, of course, they were just another chapter in his history textbook. They belonged to the age of the Mundanes, and he had assumed they didn't exist any more. He kept following the nagging, and it eased slightly as he approached the wild overgrowth surrounding Tirapolis. Markus thought of telling Nina about the Plants. She might listen to him, even if nobody else trusted him anymore. But as he delved deeper and deeper into the forest, Tirapolis faded from memory. His thoughts started to slow, and he felt... bigger. Much bigger. And stronger. He tried to remember where he came from. But there is no "there", only "here". It was the all-encompassing here, with white food above and black drink below. And a silvery-gray Itch in the middle.
Annoying. Itches are annoying. Itches need to be... scratched. But how to scratch? It planned as best it could. It moved slowly, but slow would do. It was already touching the Itch in places, just a little push and... something gave. The process was slow, but It worked its way into the Itch. The Itch had weak points, holes. The Itch resisted, as It knew it would. The Itch was bad and didn't know or care about It. It didn't know why the Itch was bad. Something else knew the Itch was bad and told It a long time ago. Something also knew the Itch would resist scratching. But It could wait. If It had to endure the Itch, It would. For now. | 2015-01-21T22:56:40 | 2015-01-21T22:48:58 | 32 | 19 |
[WP] Every person in the world develops a weird mutation/power the day they turn 16. Everyone's powers are always different, some more insignificant than others. You turn 16, and watch as all your friends discover their newfound ability's. That is, until you discover the severity of your own. | ...the ability to craft a lovely cup of tea from any matter available was surely too powerful for any mere mortal to handle.
With great duty and knowing such power could have unparalleled consequence were I unable to contain it I decided for the sake of mankind to keep it to myself, to say I was spared the mutation.
They couldn't know. Nobody could know...
| When i reached 16 I had high hopes. The basic process a person about to obtain a power went through was being put into a kind of prison cell and, for the first 24 hours after the exact time of your birth 16 years ago, monitored by a team of doctors who would categorize your power with its own unique title and level. ranking from 1-10, most powers were around a 5, meaning 'has a mediocre power' or 'can use their power to an extent comparable to that of a fully capable level 5'. powers were categorized as 'elemental', 'mind-bending' and 'self-modification'.
My parents both had mind-bending abilities, my father having telekinesis and my mother having telepathy. Having two mind-bending parents, it was predicted by the doctors that I would have a level 6-8 mind-bending ability. I waited anxiously as the time drew closer. The doctors stood in an above balcony protected by 5 inches of bulletproof glass to ensure they couldn't be harmed if I happened to have a high level destructive ability. My mind kept going over all the powers I could get. Would I be a level 7 pyrotechnic? or would I be a level 3 barely able to become invisibility. The countdown clock at the end the room was 3 hours off one day after I was born. some level 1's cant even use their powers, could I be one?
Suddenly a siren went off. Something was seriously wrong as that siren meant my ability was doing damage to sensory equipment. One of the doctors reached for the intercom but another stopped him, all ten of them seemed to be having an argument. The siren was still going off, it was starting to hurt my ears so I tried to get the attention of the doctors. None of them noticed me until a huge crack developed in the glass. I hadn't even realized it but the ground was starting to vibrate.
One of the doctors started talking on the intercom but it sounded incredibly distorted. "Stop using your power! you'll kill us all at this rate!".
That's when I realized my power,
Resonance | 2015-01-22T02:28:54 | 2015-01-22T00:45:06 | 22 | 15 |
[WP] I am the world's least known, yet most successful assassin. In the last 27 years, my work has produced an 82% increase in product labels warning about deadly consequences stemming from "misuse". | Statistically speaking, I'm the deadliest assassin in the world. That's beside the point, I don't do what I do for ratings, I do it for justice.
Ever since the 1920's when they were first invented they have been abused. They have suffered a great deal. However, before the end of this you will think twice before you misuse them again.
Let me just tell you my most recent story. Sunny, beautiful day, I get a call. "Sir?". "Yes?", I responded. "Sir we've got a Q52." "Send me the address.", I said.
With that I drove to the address. I snuck in through the back door. The house was empty except for the sound coming from the upstairs bathroom. I peered thru the crack in the door. There she was, young woman, oh the misuse. She was using it to apply eye shadow. Eye shadow!
I couldn't bear the sight of it and busted open the door and shouted "they have make up tools for that!" I shoved the misused Q-tips so far into her eyes she died instantly.
Just last week I killed a guy that wanted to use them to clean deeper than just the outside of his ear. They just weren't good enough were they? He just had to go deeper? Well those ended up so deep in his ears , and into his brain he felt it in his toes. I mean the product label clearly says to NOT insert into ear canal.
So let this be fair warning to anyone that decides they want to misuse Q-tips, because I will know and I will find you. | It sure is cold... we are almost there. Let's have a little chat first. Here, you do smoke right?
You see toilet utensils, I see murder weapons.
You see spices, I see murder weapons.
You see... aah whatever you get my drift. You see, I have been doing this for the last 27 years. And like most jobs it gets a tad boring. And that boredom made me think creative!
Like, for example, Micheal Jackson. I could have just popped the king of pop. But where is the fun in that? I thought about doing something better, funnier, adventurous! Shh, stop moving. Just listen. They said he took some weird drug, and that is how he died. Ha! They sure took the easy way out explaining THAT.
But then again, how do you explain to the world that he died with a hairdryer up his bum. The electric shock messed up his heart and voila... it stopped popping. Of course they never published it. But since then the manufacturer warns that it is not to be used to dry your ass hairs. Only the hairs on your head, then again, you are bald so that's no issue.
Or one of my favorites, Jimi Heselden... I clearly got underpaid for that one. It was so damn ironic. You know who he is right? The one who owned Segway. I seduced him, little kiss here, some sweet words there. Then I mentioned I liked it when people are being dangerous. Like going fast, taking risks. Stupid cats, shut up, I'm telling a story here. So Mr. Segway here wants to impress me. Takes me on an offroad trip... Segwaying? oh, dear he was going fast. 20 KM per hour! Ha...ha... Well 20KM is quite hard if your stuck on the damn thing and the breaks don't work. I hopped off, and he... He took a detour down the cliff. No one suspected a thing. Ah, we're here. Your demise is coming.
silent one, you stay. This is between me and baldy.
So baldy, you were cold weren't you? Stop moving around, you are making this harder than it is. Just a spark will do. You will have it warm and I will have finished my assignment. Can't wait till I read the new label.
___________________________________
WARNING:
Inflammable
Please use Michael's bowling polish for bowling balls, not meant for bald heads or heads in general.
____________________________________
========================
I'm back! Still need to clean it up a bit, but don't have the right tools for it. You sure are a silent one. /u/IAmAWizard_AmA wasn't that silent. He screamed and screamed, but he was warm for the rest of his life. Flammable and inflammable mean the same, and he learned it the hardway. Now what to do with you? Death by rubber ducks? Naah.. already killed a weirdo with that... He was even into it. Yuck, some people are such perverts. No, I will inject you with inkt. Yes, how fitting! Then you can truly boast about having blue blood. Don't look at me like that, you know it's the only way.
What's that!! Those claws!! It's so big!...
Mr. Bubbels?!
| 2015-06-21T08:52:17 | 2015-06-21T07:14:18 | 468 | 240 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse is over and the survivors are rebuilding what's the left of the world. Suddenly the rich and powerful emerge, having sat the whole thing out, hoping to regain control. | The city of New Brooklyn was bursting at the seams. It was a testament to how far things had come. The plague had decimated the population. The walkers had nearly wiped the rest out. Humanity was scattered until the First Resistance and the battles that followed. Eventually the walkers were almost essentially gone. Sure the odd one would be found, badly decayed, wandering in from the wastes or down from the mountains or washing up from God knows where. Those never resulted in more than an isolated outbreak... quickly and quietly by the Core. Now humans were banding together again, trading and clashing as they often do, but making real progress for the first time since the outbreak began 10 years ago.
Every inn in the city was full to bursting. They came from all over the Republic and beyond. Freelanders. Canucks. Federates. Texicans. Even Island and Sailor folk. Some enterprising citizens used the chance to make a killing in the trade markets. City guards were double shifted to keep an eye on the typical riff raff but it was largely unnessessary. Everybody wanted to be there for the big moment.
The world after the apocalypse was a surprisingly dull place. There was harvest time and festivals of course, the odd outbreak, and for the very young that was plenty. But most folks still remembered how things used to be. They remembered media and hype and the way there was always the Next Big Thing. So when the generator that powered the Ark first came back to life, an innocuous blue light in the center of the doors, word spread like wildfire.
It would have been one of humanities most impressive accomplishments under better circumstances. From draft board to finished product in less than a year. Powered by a previously unknown fusion reactor, able to access ground water and geothermal heating, titanic in size and resistant to all but the most power nuclear strikes. The Ark was a sanctuary for the human race. Others tried to replicate it, some even managed to succeed before society collapsed. None held a candle to the size - and as time would tell *the success* - of the Ark. Most from the Republic were part of the lottery. A few still clutched them as they lined the streets around the plaza, jockeying for room and talking excitedly. All remembered the day they'd been abandoned.
It was a day of ceremony which was already beginning to feel out of place. The plans to contain the plague had failed. The walkers had begun to rise. Humanity was on the run. All the resources and manpower possible had been diverted to building the Ark. For their compliance, each healthy person was given a ticket. Fair was fair. When the moment came though, the ruse was revealed without fanfare. The blue light of the blast doors simply ticked to red. There was confusion, riots. A few attempts, mostly for show, of breaking in. But it was clear everyone had been had. It wasn't until one of the project administrators had been found that the truth finally came out. The Ark wasn't for just anyone. It had been bought and paid for by the elite decades before the plague was on the horizon. A failsafe for the highest echelon of society. The administrator gladly traded his service for the life of his family. He had a smile on his face as they ripped him apart, limb from limb.
But now the door was opening for the first time in a decade. After ten years of luxury, sealed away from a world gone to hell, the 1% had decided it was time to reconnect. The 99% were ready. There wasn't a soul there who wasn't armed in one way or another. Many hadn't picked up weapon in years, but they still knew precisely how to use them. You didn't make it in the new world without being able to get your hands dirty.
Some people worried what would be on the other side. New tech couldn't hold a candle to old tech. If they came out guns blazing a lot of people would die. It was worth the risk. For the knowledge preserved inside. For the riches of the Ark. For revenge.
A murmur rose as the light changed to green. The crowds swelled as the calls of those holding vigil were heard and echoed through the town. They waited. Minutes. Hours. A lifetime. There was a shudder and the doors slowly opened.
At first silence. Then came a man. Once handsome and refined, certainlu a politician. He hobbled with a crutch as fast as he could. Fell. Crawled. The panic on his face was plain but he did not notice the nation before him, united in hatred.
Already some began to grow uneasy. The Islanders and Sailors began to slink away but they were cowards and runners. Then the familiar calls could be heard, echoing up the cavernous halls of the Ark. Horrible wails and moans that were etched into the mind of every man woman and child on earth. The walkers.
The plaza exploded into chaos. Some stood to fight. Most tried to flee. The hoard of walkers poured into the confusion. Celebrities. Bankers. Businessmen. Rotten and howling for blood.
That was the day the Second Resistance began. The survivors believed that the worst humanity had to offer had been hidden away in the Ark. They were right. | The scavenging patrol was moving quickly and as they entered the inner perimeter the guards moved to open the gates. Attacks were rare now, but we all still remembered what it had been like just a few months ago and no one was willing to take any chances. They cleared the walls reguarly, but there was almost always one of two lurking around for anyone stupid enough to stand by the gate in the open.
They'd been gone two days on a scavenge, but it didn't look like they had brought back much food. As they stripped for a bite check, their bags were pulled away and the contends dumped out - just a few cans, three bottles of wine and two sacks of flour - hardly enough to cover the supplies they'd taken with them.
Kelly watched the check from the gated of the inner perimeter, torn between anger and frustration - the search parties needed to be going further. This one could hardly have gotten far enough away to find new search areas before turning back! It was hard to blame them though, six months on from z-day, the rumor was that the infection had largely passed, some even claimed that there had been cities unaffected and we'd all be seeing troops coming down the road any day - no one wanted to die just days before rescue.
Six months, it seemed like so much longer ago that life had been normal. When the infection had come and people had turned it had destroyed so much, but the nukes had been so much worse in terms of infrastructure. before them they had been able to get radio signals and use vehicles - now hardly any worked.
A cry came from below and there was a flurry of movement; a space was rapidly opening up around one of the scavengers, a young girl - she didn't need to ask what had happened, Kelly had seen it before - they had found a bite. The girl was crying and had fallen to her knees, but she knew what was coming. For a moment Kelly considered leaving it to the Doc, but he'd done enough and she unslung her rifle.
The shot made everyone turn and then look back to the girl. it had been clean, direct to the side of the head, a good kill, a mercy kill. "Take her out, burn the body." Kelly knew they would do it anyway, but it helped to give the order.
She waited until the group had finished being checked and passed under the big gate, looking out over the clear lands to the south where the hordes had once ravened in their thousands - now it was clear, just empty space.
Except... not empty. There, on the old roads, was a dust cloud. Something was moving and quickly - it had to be a vehicle and it wasn't one of theirs. She watched for a moment longer, hesitant to sound the signal, but the cloud was getting larger and at last she relented, leaning down and hitting the siren.
The wail came up from a dozen old alarms, they had been easy to scavenge and in the early days they had gone off frequently - each time signalling an attack from a horde, all hands put to work shoring up defenses, or keeping the undead out. Now there was something else coming and Kelly only hoped it was better news.
The reaction was impressive - people sprang from their homes and were on the walls in minutes, brandishing whatever weaponry they had to hand. She looked across, nearly sixty men and women, not a big force, but it had always been enough - she hoped it would be now.
Whispers and murmurs had gone along the line, was this it? Was this where they came to tell them that they were saved? As it came closer details could be made out - it was a truck and not an old one - this was much newer than the ones they'd been driving, it must have been shielded from the nukes somehow.
At last it was close enough to see clearly as it aimed directly for the front gate - in a wild moment Kelly considered opening fire at a distance, warning them off, but it passed and soon the car approached. At last it stopped and there was a long pause, until finally the door clunked and opened.
They saw the foot first, a tailored boot and then form fitting jeans, a tight black leather jacket and sunglasses, all Kelly could think was that he looked like a country western star, it was intimidating to see him. "Hey folks!" He called up. "Name's Randy and I was sent out to find folk like you to bring em back to New New York!"
Kelly watched him closely, he didn't seem to be armed. "Hello Randy, who the fuck are you?"
Randy laughed, a short sharp bark. "You could let me in first, but I see you're suspicious, that's okay!" He held out his hands. "I'm not armed, I come with a business proposition from Bunker 34, over near Bakersfield. About two hundred of us were invited to stay at the start of this whole zombie mess and now we're emerging and trying to get stuff set up again."
Kelly nodded. "Uh huh, so you guys hid in a bunker while the rest of us died up here?"
Randy laughed again. "I guess kinda. Look, we're starting up a town a little way over and we need more folk to help do the actual work - none of us know what the fuck we're doing, but we have plenty of gear and just need a little help?"
A voice cried out from further down the wall. "So you're not the rescue?"
Randy shook his head. "Sorry folks, just another survivor."
Kelly looked at his immaculate clothes. "So you want servants basically?"
Randy shook his head. "No, no nothing like that, but what do we know about farming? Most of us were.. y'know, the elite. We need some people to help look after us."
Kelly turned away from the wall, tot he people next to her. "You have to be fucking kidding me, what the fuck does he thing he's..."
A scream cut her off and she spun back to the gate. Only an idiot who hadn't lived through the last six months would stand in the open without a weapon. the zombie had sunk its teeth into his neck and as they watched it tore his throat out. Kelly took aim and popped its head, but it was far, far too late.
Twilight was coming and with it would come more walkers, even more. She turned to the others. "Go, burn the bodies before they attract others and bring the car into the gate." Immediately two men ran off, Kelly had earned the trust of the others.
The doc stood beside her and watched as the car edged into the compound. "So what're we going to do?"
Kelly smiled. "You heard the man, they have everything a group could need except any idea how the fuck to use it. I'm sure we can help with that." She grinned and doc grinned back - life had just become a little easier. | 2015-12-14T11:15:56 | 2015-12-14T08:46:59 | 89 | 39 |
[WP] You are a mind reader with a significant drawback; the clearer you read a thought, the harder it becomes to distinguish it from your own thoughts. | I focused on the drink in front of me. All my senses, every last ounce of my perception was channeled into a single point, and directed at my Styrofoam cup of coffee.
When anybody's thoughts can get lost in your own, it's helpful to have a focusing point.
I breathed in the smell. I ordered it the same way every time. Hazelnut, three sugars. Far too sweet to actually drink, but the aroma kept me focused. Hard to ignore.
I wondered if the people here actually drank coffee, or if everyone just sat and brooded like that guy in the corner, sniffing at his coffee like that, weirdo.
That wasn't my thought. I refocused my mind onto the beverage, examined the label.
It had the Barista's handwriting. Lazy looping script. Just like Courtney's.
I could never read her handwriting, but that didn't change anything. Courtney didn't hold it against me, back when I worked with her.
Did I know someone named Courtney? Remembering could be dangerous, go too far from the focus point, from that sickly sweet, and you could get all flipped turned upside-down, and I'd like to take a minute and sit right here...
Can't get that song out of my head. Or somebody's head, either way. This entire enterprise was like some sort of godawful radio station, trying to tune in and out, but everyone's the same, here in the big city. It's just big gray skies and sidewalk. I wonder if you could ride a dog if you were small enough to-
I take a sip. The hot hazelnut something or other scalds my mouth, and the sensation starts to grow borders between my thoughts and the outside.
This is far more trouble than it's worth. This whole reading minds thing. I shouldn't even be doing this. And I just gotta remember, the gun's in my left coat pocket, and I'm going to pull it out and-
I put the Coffee down with a smirk.
*Gotcha.*
| *Run!* I thought.
No, wait. Not me. Not MY thoughts. I still needed to be here. They still needed me...hell I was CALLED here to do a job.
*Run, to the exit? Which way? There! Have to get away!*
I bit down hard on the side of my tongue, trying to ignore the mounting panic that threatened to overwhelm me. The poor woman next to me was on all fours, clutching her head with the single-minded fervor that only comes from primal animal fear.
I clicked back the safety on my pistol, aiming it right for her head.
"Listen lady, you are going to need to calm down. Don't even THINK about running...trust me, I will know."
A fresh wave of panic pulsed from her body at my words, but her mind went blank.
*Peace at last.* I thought. Or, at least, I THOUGHT I thought. It did sound like me, but with emotions running this high it was rather hard to telll.
"Listen, everyone!" I raised my gun toward the bank's ceiling and fired once. All eyes glued to me? Good.
"I don't want ANYONE to panic...but there is a bomb in the building. No one leaves, or it goes off and takes everyone with it. So CALM. DOWN."
The resulting wave of fear nearly knocked me off of my feet. It took everything I had not to simply drop my gun and flee myself. The taste of iron filled my mouth as I bit down harder than ever, trying to focus on the emotions, words, and images that rolled from the crowd like breaking surf.
*RUN! Get AWAY!*
*This guy is a MONSTER!*
*We're all gonna die!*
*What does he want? Just take the money and leave already!*
I clutched my hands to my temples, trying to block out as much of the psionic din as I could without severing the link to their minds completely. Then, a single thought rose from the crowd, blocking out the others like the sun before a field of candles.
It was an image, a single, horrifying image that eclipsed all the others with an intensity the likes of which I had never experienced before. An eruption of flame, a plume of smoke devouring men and women alike as if it were some violent beast. I felt giddy, filled with glee and hatred in equal measures. They all deserved to die, the lot of them, and I would make it happen myself.
*NO! Not me! Where is it coming from?*
I looked around, eyes flicking from one face to the next, but no one so much as flinched under my scrutiny.
*A mind reader, eh?* I thought with a whisper as loud as a jet engine. *It has been a while since I have had to deal with your kind.*
No, it wasn't me. They were so close! But the thought seemed to come from all directions at once, so where...?
*Tick tock, magic man. You don't have time to guess...better start killing civilians.* The idea pleased me greatly. Saving most of them was far more preferable to none at all.
It was only when I touched the barrel of my gun to some miserable banker's temple that I realized that the thought wasn't mine at all. I recoiled, flipping the safety back on as I did.
*So close.* The voice crowed. *Don't slip up, next time you might blow someone's brains out.*
Where WERE they?
*Tick tock, magic man.*
*Tick tock.*
***
*Tick. Tock. If you enjoyed this piece, check out more of my work over at /r/TimeSyncs!* | 2016-05-31T21:43:24 | 2016-05-31T20:26:51 | 268 | 56 |
[WP] All of humanity is wiped off the earth in some cataclysm. 1.7 billion years later an intelligent race of giant reptiles evolves. Human DNA is found trapped inside a block of amber. They begin to clone humans and start a theme park.
Edit: Sorry about the scientific inaccuracy in the prompt. Wasn't deliberate, just said fukkit and put in an arbitrarily large number. If it breaks your suspension of disbelief feel free to replace it with a more believable number.
This blew up! Thanks for writing these awesome stories guys! I'll probably be walking around laughing all day today.
Also, credit for the work for which this is a parody of goes to Michael Crichton. |
You'd think that they'd get bored of watching us. We aren't zoo animals, you know. Putting their oddly shaped coins in little dispensers and throwing chocolates at us from over the edge of the wall can't be all that entertaining. For God's sakes, it's not even good chocolate.
Of course, they don't realize what we know. I watch them every day, degrading myself, sitting on a rock and picking at my hair like some primitive caveman. They don't realize they dropped a history book in our cage once. A juvenile reptile had done so. Sure, it was written in a language we couldn't read, but it wasn't as if it took us long to learn.
My friends and I have collected everything that fell. We had their primitive version of a lighter, a few sheets of paper and writing utensils. And every day, we were taken to their odd laboratory for medical examinations. Every day, I tried not to laugh as they wrote down that changes that had occurred- none. They were baffled as to why we didn't regrow limbs or enjoy insects.
Good.
They know nothing, but I know everything. I have a map, and the toys provided to us make excellent weaponry. As soon as one disappears, they add another. Metal, plastic, wooden, whatever it is, it works.
They'll learn soon enough.
They're too peaceable for their own good. But I have revenge in mind. What remains of humanity will shake their world forever and they will never be the same again.
A bit terrible, but I wanted to address it from a different perspective and it was my five spare minutes.
| Prologue -
A species of reptiles called the Rgholians slowly started colonising the planet they called Grranar. At an average height of 8 feet, Rghloian scientists think that their ancestors survived 2 massive comet strikes by taking refuge in deep underground caves which over time nurtured their own elaborate eco system. The earliest Rgholians were highly cannibalistic and aggressive in nature, traits that helped them survive by breeding out the weakest, while ensuring adequate food and resources for the strongest while going outside their deep dark caves once in a while to heat their bodies with rays from the warm sun.
A competing species of bipedal humanoid forms appear in early cave paintings, suggesting that at least one other intelligent species had survived the cataclysm, but it appears as though the stronger and more aggressive Rgholians quickly overwhelmed their foes, feasting on them and wiping them out as a species. Yet, from the centuries long exposure to the competing species helped the early Rghloians to adopt and adapt many of the traits the bipedals possessed, including the ability to speak and a written language. Rghloians have since then written down, etched or captured their history for a period of about 6,700 years till the present time.
Rghloian males are about 8-10 feet tall, have tough scaly skin and are physically very strong. They do however lack what Rghloian scientists call "the opposing thumb" which the ancient bi-pedals had. They tend to rely on their sense of sight as their sense of hearing and sense of smell is very weak (else these senses would have been overwhelmed in the close living quarters the earliest Rgholians had to live in). Rgholian females possessed pretty much the same features, only they were between 12-14 feet tall. While the species had an imposing bite strength, if their jaws were bound, they became catatonic and immobile, as a result they evolved many laws which made their jaws sacred and to touch another Rgolian's jaw without his / her explicit permission was punishable even by death. Rghloian scientists haven't still cracked this aspect of their species, the closest they have gotten is speculation that there must have been some cross over between early Rgholians and some species of fish that had this trait.
End Prologue -
The richest Rghloian alive, Rzzrak the second had been working in secrecy in a secret Island paradise for a decade. The few journalists who made it in, and managed a short broadcast out before disappearing reported that 10 years ago, Rzzrak had purchased something very valuable. It was apparently red in colour and said to contain the essence of the bi-pedals who were long dead.
HQ of Rzzrak Inc -
A very angry Rzzrak, surrounded by his team is ripping his previous chief scientist to shreds - "I want results, I pay for results, If you can't deliver results, you don't just quit midway, that is not the way of Rzzrak Inc", after shredding his erstwhile chief scientist to shreds, he looks at his thoroughly cowed team, blood dripping from his snout...any questions? says he. "I want my first specimens ready for internal observation in 6 months, if you can't do it, tell me".
Silence.
"Good" said Rzzrak and stalked out of the boardroom, leaving the clean up crew to pick up the pieces.
| 2016-06-20T04:01:26 | 2016-06-20T03:10:37 | 33 | 18 |
[WP] At age 15 you told the gf you were "in love" with that you'd always be there when she was in need. Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality, whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side. Problem is, you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later | Amelia's life has been a strange one since the age of 15, when she met Eric at a bus stop on her way home from school; they had a short-lived tryst and never expected to see one another again.
Over the remaining years of High School, Eric just always seemed to be around whenever something happened. Her first car got a flat tire and Eric seemed to come out of nowhere to lend a hand; she twisted her ankle at the park and Eric was there to help her home. Eric was always there. At first, Amelia found it to be endearing, but each time it seemed like Eric had a growing look of resentment in his eyes.
High School passed and Amelia moved away from the Midwest to fulfill her childhood dreams of attending art school in New York. Thousands of miles from home and Eric showed up in her hallway when Amelia locked herself out of her Apartment. Eric was supposed to be back in Kansas City working at his dad's construction firm, but he was here... Eric is always here. Amelia got mugged and Eric was there; Amelia got in a fight with her boyfriend and Eric was there. Any endearment Amelia once felt towards Eric turned into fear.
Eric's stalking of Amelia took it's toll on Amelia, but she managed to get through college; she was absolutely ecstatic to land a design position in San Francisco; it was a gateway into he dream career and she could finally escape the nightmare of Eric.
*****
It's 10 years since the fateful day that Eric met Amelia at the bus stop and professed his oath to always be there for her.
Ten miserable years.
Eric is at home playing X-Box and within the blink of an eye he is transported to the shoulder of a busy highway, standing next to Amelia. Eric was confused, a deer in the headlights, but he had no ill feelings towards Amelia and helped change out her tire.
Eric was completing his homework only to be whisked away as if by magic to stand next to Amelia grasping her twisted ankle in the park. It didn't matter what Eric was in the middle of, he always transported to Amelia when she was in need. Any good faith Eric felt towards Amelia quickly turned into disdain as Eric realized that Amelia was a curse.
High school finished and Eric was ecstatic to learn that Amelia was going off to the East Coast. He had a job lined up with his father and he could be rid of Amelia once and for all - freedom; he could drive a car without being transported away; he could go on dates without disappearing. It was with significant shock and hatred when he opened his eyes to find himself outside of Amelia's New York apartment watching Amelia dig through her purse. The curse was still there.
It's been 10 years of the Amelia curse; 10 years of misery. Kansas City, New York, San Francisco. He hated Amelia for what his life had become, and he knew that Amelia hated him - she had even filed a restraining order. Eric is drinking alone, as he often does, and opens his eyes to find himself trapped next to Amelia in a burning wreck.
They died together. | “You know, have you ever tried being responsible for your own shit, instead of relying on some witches curse to have me do your laundry?”, Shane snarked at Sandra.
“You’re just too convenient.”, she smirked, looking Shane up and down.”Besides, it’s more important than my laundry.” Sandra had gotten into some trouble with some seniors. Sandra and her current boyfriend, Rumio, were the town’s local supply of dope, and less than lethal party drugs; like acid, shrooms, and ecstasy. It was a small town with a poor, small market, and not really many dealers to go to. Even though Sandra and Rumio kept a “code” to never sell any amount of or any type of drug that they knew would kill a particular person, they never made a code to never skimp their customers.
“What, do you need a loan or some shit? Or are you just horny and your boyfriend isn’t around again?” Shane was rather pissed at this point. A day hadn’t gone by that Aphrodite’s curse hadn’t played it’s merciless joke on him. It had been calming down recently, and he figured he might be able to start having a normal life again. Shane was supposed to be at the premiere of a big blockbuster hit, “The Comedical Advancements of Hubris the Flying Baby”, but in the middle of the previews was sucked back into the grip of Sandra’s hurricane of a life.
“No, I need somebody that can hold a gun.” Sandra handed over a .22.
“What the fuck is this peashooter gonna do?”
“It’s gonna scare off these jocks we fucked with.” Sandra and Rumio had taken it upon themselves to not only sell a football player a bag of chopped up romaine, but hadn’t even given him the proper gram to dollar ratio. Sandra and Rumio had sold oregano to this kid before, so they figured he would probably still be too stupid to tell the difference. But Kenneth, the fool, had smoked lettuce in his youth after hearing talk through his bedroom door of “smoking the devil’s lettuce.”
“And why should I give a fuck that you pissed some jocks off?”
“Because even if you leave, you’re just gonna come back when they actually show up.” They of course being the entire football team; small town sports teams are essentially packs of hyenas.
“So why don’t I go get a real weapon, like a chainsaw? Or a steak knife?”
“Because we’re not trying to kill them, we’re trying to get them to fuck off. We don’t need heat all over our shit, man.” Sandra shoved the .22 into Shane’s chest. She stormed off into another room to grab her phone and her baton. While she called Rumio, Shane looked out the window.
“You got any idea what type of car these kids might roll up in?”
“I don’t know, probably some busted up piece of shit. Pretty sure Ken’s dad own a Thunderbird.” Rumio picked up, Sandra asked, “Hey, where are you, babe?”
“Pulling up right now.” Just then a green Thunderbird swerved right into his driveway. Rumio parked quickly, reached for his bat in the back seat, and got out. Five kids exited the Thunderbird, all looking around before a couple charged towards Rumio. Sandra and Shane came leaping off the front porch towards Rumio, trying to distract a couple of the linebackers. Rumio managed to break a kneecap on of the kids, but took an uppercut from his backup. Rumio tried shoving the kid away via tip of bat. It hurt the player’s chest, but he grabbed the bat and swung it to the side.
Sandra wasn’t strong, but people didn’t think a baton swing to the ribs wasn’t gonna hurt. Shane had been in a few fights, via Sandra, but still didn’t stand a chance against the neanderthals of the frontline. It wasn’t too soon before Shane pulled out… Bang! Shane had plucked one of them in the eye, and it started to bleed. They all scattered back to the car before Shane could pull the trigger again.
“They’re just gonna come back, you know.” Shane looked at the two of them locked in arms.
“Yeah, but at least we got Slickshot Shane to back us up when the rattlesnakes show up.” Sandra smirked at Shane and giggled a bit.
Rumi told Shane, “Yeah and if you let my girlfriend die, I’ll be sure to send your ass to Aphrodite myself.” Shane rolled his eyes and shoved his way through the lovebirds, and murmured something under his breath, probably something of the usual, “this curse is bullshit, I’m not even getting laid.” The couple renounced themselves to their abode, only to find Shane in their room.
“I knew you hadn’t done your fucking laundry yet.” | 2017-03-22T15:53:12 | 2017-03-22T14:43:57 | 75 | 47 |
[WP] At age 15 you told the gf you were "in love" with that you'd always be there when she was in need. Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality, whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side. Problem is, you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later | Amelia's life has been a strange one since the age of 15, when she met Eric at a bus stop on her way home from school; they had a short-lived tryst and never expected to see one another again.
Over the remaining years of High School, Eric just always seemed to be around whenever something happened. Her first car got a flat tire and Eric seemed to come out of nowhere to lend a hand; she twisted her ankle at the park and Eric was there to help her home. Eric was always there. At first, Amelia found it to be endearing, but each time it seemed like Eric had a growing look of resentment in his eyes.
High School passed and Amelia moved away from the Midwest to fulfill her childhood dreams of attending art school in New York. Thousands of miles from home and Eric showed up in her hallway when Amelia locked herself out of her Apartment. Eric was supposed to be back in Kansas City working at his dad's construction firm, but he was here... Eric is always here. Amelia got mugged and Eric was there; Amelia got in a fight with her boyfriend and Eric was there. Any endearment Amelia once felt towards Eric turned into fear.
Eric's stalking of Amelia took it's toll on Amelia, but she managed to get through college; she was absolutely ecstatic to land a design position in San Francisco; it was a gateway into he dream career and she could finally escape the nightmare of Eric.
*****
It's 10 years since the fateful day that Eric met Amelia at the bus stop and professed his oath to always be there for her.
Ten miserable years.
Eric is at home playing X-Box and within the blink of an eye he is transported to the shoulder of a busy highway, standing next to Amelia. Eric was confused, a deer in the headlights, but he had no ill feelings towards Amelia and helped change out her tire.
Eric was completing his homework only to be whisked away as if by magic to stand next to Amelia grasping her twisted ankle in the park. It didn't matter what Eric was in the middle of, he always transported to Amelia when she was in need. Any good faith Eric felt towards Amelia quickly turned into disdain as Eric realized that Amelia was a curse.
High school finished and Eric was ecstatic to learn that Amelia was going off to the East Coast. He had a job lined up with his father and he could be rid of Amelia once and for all - freedom; he could drive a car without being transported away; he could go on dates without disappearing. It was with significant shock and hatred when he opened his eyes to find himself outside of Amelia's New York apartment watching Amelia dig through her purse. The curse was still there.
It's been 10 years of the Amelia curse; 10 years of misery. Kansas City, New York, San Francisco. He hated Amelia for what his life had become, and he knew that Amelia hated him - she had even filed a restraining order. Eric is drinking alone, as he often does, and opens his eyes to find himself trapped next to Amelia in a burning wreck.
They died together. | It seems like every time I ran into Amelia Fowler she was in the middle of some kind of catastrophe. Just last week she had a flat tire at two in the morning twenty miles out of town, with no one around but cows and cotton. A month ago it was in line at the grocery store with a shopping cart the contents of which almost brought a tear to my eye and a check card that couldn't cover even that. I helped. I couldn't not help. It didn't matter that we'd been done for eight months, or dated for three weeks. She was a person, and she needed someone, and I was there. That's what you do in small towns like this.
I guess that's why we started dating in the first place. The "in need" part, not the small town part, although that was probably some of it, too. When you are fifteen and everything feels like it's the most important thing in the world, that is enough. Sitting in the back of my old truck, I promised her the world and she blushed and was beautiful and we loved each other. But the Fowler clan was a train wreck. Amelia was abused, neglected, addicted, and already working on her criminal record then, at sixteen. I should never have gotten involved with her. The whole thing blew up less than a month after it started.
Eventually I realized she must have been getting herself in trouble around me on purpose, like as a way to control me or something. That was the kind of thing a girl like her would do. It's not her fault; not exactly, but I wasn't going to be manipulated like that. I started distancing myself from Amelia. Still I would run into her from time to time, and always she was in the middle of some crisis. At first I was kind with her. Then I was patient. I became firm. I became Angry. Finally I became cruel. I said mean things to her about who she was and how she lived. I still helped. You have to help people. But I wish I hadn't said those things.
As time went on, I ran into Amelia less and less often. I heard from a friend of a friend that she had gotten herself knocked up by and then married to some office worker type. Unexciting, but stable. That sounded like a good thing, and I was happy for her.
Gradually, I began to forget about Amelia Fowler.
...
It was really unusual for the bastards to take us anywhere. They mostly liked to keep us locked up in our shitty little rooms unless it was time for medicine or "food." Today they'd gotten it into their piss-for-brains heads to drag us old geezers out to the park for some "Eeh-an-richmint," as that lousy dick of a head nurse pronounces it.
Some of the geezers who have decent families are going to have a nice afternoon frolicking in the Goddamned daisy or whatever. My wife is dead. Fuck, most of my kids are dead. They don't tell you about that shit when you're growing up! Life kills people! And the ones who are still alive aren't worth two shits.
So I was looking forward to sitting alone on a hot hillside in the middle of June like the subject of some kind of shitty dollar store painting 'cause it'd make dick feel like he was doing his job.
Anyway, we'd been out there for a little over forty-five minutes, and my ass was killing me. That piece-of-crap lawn chair must have been made in Nicaragua. Why can't shit come from China anymore like in the good old days? When all of a sudden this old biddy, who was hobbling along on her walker, keels over right there on my spot of grass; pissed off the pigeons. I was trying to enjoy the view of the lake and here's this bitch, flopping on the ground clutching at her back pissing and moaning.
So I haul my aching, wrinkly old ass out of my piece-of-shit Nicaraguan chair and kneel down in the stifling heat of that mosquito-infested June morning to see what's wrong. I roll her over and damned if it isn't Amelia Fowler.
"My God it's you!" She exhaled. "I'm having a heart attack. It's my fourth one. I know what they feel like, and I know I'm not going to make it."
"Amelia what is this shit? You think I can't tell a fake heart attack? I did fifteen years with-" I started, but she cut me off.
"Shut up, Frank. I don't know where I would have wound up if I'd have never met you, but I can guess. I'm dying an old woman with a full life instead of a young girl with stupid ideas 'cause of you. I needed to tell you that. I promise I won't need you again."
I yelled for dick, and he stumbled over and bumbled though ECPR, but Amelia was right. She was done for. That was the last time I saw Amelia Fowler. | 2017-03-22T15:53:12 | 2017-03-22T13:26:15 | 75 | 21 |
[WP] At age 15 you told the gf you were "in love" with that you'd always be there when she was in need. Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality, whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side. Problem is, you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later | My grandmother still worships the old gods. I dont know how she can keep track of all of them. There seems to be a god for every problem. I probably should have played more attention in history when we went over all this stuff. She always said I was a favorite of Aphrodite. She warned me that living with the favor of a God/Goddess would be difficult. I should have listened.
Meeting girls has always been easy for me. People said I was just charming. I know better now. I met Sita when I was 15. There was something about her that just ignited a fire in me. As always I was able to catch her attention with just a short conversation. It wasn't long before the whole school knew we were dating. She was so beautiful. Long raven hair, bright green eyes that actually sparkled when she was happy. A smile that could brighten a room instantly and she always smelled so good. I knew from the moment we spoke that I was in love. Thinking back on it now, what did I know of love? I was a kid. A dumb idealistic brat in love with the Idea, of being in love.
I remember that day after the homecoming dance. We were walking hand in hand. We stopped under the bleachers by the football field. She kissed me and I told her I loved her. She said she loved me too. I told her, "No matter what, I'll always be there for you. I swear on our love"
She broke up with me 3 weeks later. No explanation, no apology. Just, "this isn't working. Find someone else"
I was as heartbroken as a kid could be. After a while I swore I'd never say those words to a girlfriend again unless I was sure she loved me too. I got rid of all her pictures and little gifts. I never wanted to see her again, but the God's take oaths seriously.
I saw her again, for the first time 2 years later. I was driving home in the muscle car my parents got me for my birthday. It needed a lot of work but I was excited to have wheels. I saw her hunched over in the rain and cold by the bus stop. She had a large bag next to her. Too big to be for school. I pulled over. I got out and sat next to her, she barely looked up at me. "Hey" was all she said.
"Hey" I replied. "Need a ride?" I asked.
"That yours?" She asked. "Yeah, birthday gift" I responded.
She nodded. "You have awesome parents." She whispered. She looked up at me. "Im leaving town. I have an aunt that lives 3 hours away. If your serious about the ride, will you take me?" She asked.
I thought about it for a moment. I'd just gotten the car and had never been out of town on my own before. Still the way she looked at me, her eyes pleading and full of sorrow. I couldn't say no. "Sure, hop in. Ill get your bag."
It didnt occur to me to ask why she was leaving or where her parents were. It just felt right to help. I got home at 4am. I was grounded for 2 months and my car was taken from me. She had smiled that beautiful smile when in had dropped her off. It was worth it.
I met her again when I was a junior in college. I was invited to a frat party for the first time ever and almost didnt go. I felt I would miss out if I didnt though. College is about the experiences, so im told. At first I wasnt sure it was her, it had been so long, but when she smiled I knew. I wanted to talk to her and for a moment our eyes met. She was swooped up by a good looking guy in a football jersey before I could reach her. I spent the rest of the party bored. It was when I went searching for a bathroom that I found her again. I was told the bathroom was down the hall but I kept getting turned around. She came rushing out of a room I had passed twice. Her clothes were a mess and her lip was bleeding. She saw me and grabbed my arm. The guy I had seen her with came out of the room a few moments later. He stopped when he saw me.
"Hey" she said. "I havent seen you in forever, walk me to my car?" She asked.
I stood there glaring at the guy in the jersey. "Sure, no problem" I finally reply. She didnt let go of me until we reached her car. Once again I earned a smile as she drove away. I walked back to my dorm thinking that one day, that smile would be the death of me.
So on it went, I loved and lost and loved again. I would love my life and years would pass before seeing her again. Each moment we met was when she needed me most. Sometimes it was for small things, like a ride, other times it was more serious. I was there for her, just like I swore I would be. I stopped being surprised after a while. I lived my life with the assurance that I would see her again and earn another smile. I became successful in my career, had everything I'd ever wanted and more. Still, I would go out into the world each day, looking for her face amongst the crowd. Waiting for the moment when she would need me again.
Now that final moment has arrived. That moment I knew would come. When that smile would be the death of me.
This story, is for you Sita. So you would understand why I did what I did. You see, I met your husband. He's a good man. I realize now why I hadn't seen you in so long, after meeting him. He showed me pictures of you and your kids. They're as beautiful as their mother. All with that same gorgeous smile. Dont worry, I didn't tell him I knew you. He came to ask me for something. Something apparently only I can give.
My cancer is inoperable. I have been given only weeks to live. Caught it too late they said. The doctor told me because of my condition and my rare blood type, I would be doing the hospital and several people in it, a great service and sacrifice, if I would donate my organs. I hadn't made my decision until today. When your husband showed me your picture, I knew. This is the last time I can be there for you. What I give to you hasn't been mine for a long time. Its been yours ever since I swore that oath, so many years ago. I give you my heart, to care for and keep safe.
My oath is kept, I have no regrets. Who am I to question the Gods? | [I'd like to preface this story with a trigger warning. I've never used one before but I'm sure it's necessary for this one. When I read the prompt, I wanted to put a different spin on it, it's a tragic sort of love story, the way it usually is in life, so towards the end I delve into a darker place than was probably intended by the person who created the prompt. I don't mean to offend anyone and hope that you enjoy the story despite the direction it goes in.]
My legs felt numb. I had been walking for an hour straight now and I wasn't even halfway back to my job. It probably would've been faster to head to Nate's and have him give me a ride back but the thought of having to make up an excuse for my complicated situation, yet again, exhausted me. I was emotionally drained, just like every other time and it only seemed to be getting more frequent. It was getting to the point where I couldn't even go a few days without having to be in this situation yet again.
I didn't have any idea how far I had walked. You would think after ten years of this, I would've gotten used to it. Not.
In High School, I had been some lanky kid desperate for any girl to give me a chance. Sitting down, I thought back to those days, when I had scoured the internet for tips and tricks to get the girl. A humorless smile formed on my lips as I pictured my younger self sitting in his room performing a prayer ritual to Aphrodite, the Goddess of love. I had promised to be by the side of any girl that gave me the time of day whenever she was in need forever and always. Had I known what was to come, I would've never committed to a lifetime of this. The smile slowly disappeared from my face at that thought.
Amber came into my life that very next day. She was radiant. There was a light in her that I had never seen in anyone else. When she spoke to me the very first time I thought I was surely dreaming. Her wide, light brown eyes were full of mischief. Her thick golden brown curls gleamed brightly in the sunlight. Her personality was brilliant and fierce and gentle and passionate. I had never seen the world, not really, until I met her. The thing about being a kid, is that everything that you feel is more intense than it will ever be at any other point in your life. She was a destructive storm and I was a storm chaser that was swept away by the force of her. It wasn't long before I fell head over heels for her and finally built up the courage to ask her to be my girlfriend. In my fifteen years of life, I had never felt as happy as I felt during that time that we spent together but I would be insane to say that I hadn't noticed the sadness that lay behind it all. With that passion and whirlwind of emotions, came an endless well of darkness that was slowly extinguishing the light that I had come to know.
Only months later she had asked me to a park where we had met many times. It was there that she had explained that she couldn't keep it up anymore. The entire time she had refused to look me in the eye as she confessed that she had cheated on me. That day I learned that with every immense high there is a seemingly endless low. We stopped talking for a while. It hadn't been hard to avoid her since we hardly had any classes together, at first anyway. I could only keep that up for so long though. I felt myself drawn to her despite the burning anger and pain that being by her side brought me. After some time the hurt of her betrayal faded but she was spiraling and that caused a different hurt altogether. I did everything in my power to comfort her. I wanted to. Doing that fulfilled something inside of me that I hadn't even realized forming. It morphed and changed within me until it was an instinct. Borderline obsession even. It wasn't until years later when I would link my incessant need to be at her side every time she needed someone to the night that I had begged Aphrodite for a chance at the love I had always craved.
Eventually, heading to her house on impulse became dropping everything in a moments notice at her call. That evolved into racing to her side no matter how far she was from me. The stranger things started only a year or two ago. The first time it happened, I was sure that I had completely lost my ever loving mind. I had been in the middle of helping a friend move and in the time it took me to blink, I was in Amber's one bedroom apartment.
A vibrating in my chest pulled me from the memories of everything that had happened in the past ten years. It was soft at first, barely there. It always was but then it grew into an increasingly louder hum. I closed my eyes, the familiar feeling of weightlessness taking over me. I didn't dare look, it had yielded unsavory results the one time I had tried. The process took an instant but it felt like it lasted at least five minutes. The familiar smell of lavender filled my nostrils signalling that I had been transported back into Amber's apartment. I was standing in her bedroom this time. It was a mess like it had been when I had been here earlier that day. There were stains on the carpet that were probably months old, some were maybe even years old. My instincts led me into the small bathroom that was connected to the bedroom. The door was ajar and the light was on indicating that Amber was in there. When I entered, my eyes found Amber's small form curled up between the sink and the bathtub. Her eyes were closed and the only sound in the room besides my shoes crunching the broken glass on the floor, was her ragged breathe coming in soft wisps. There were pill bottles lying all over the floor empty. I moved slowly over to where she was and slid to the ground, leaning back against the wall across from her. She stirred and her eyes fluttered open. Her thick eyelashes framed her almond-shaped eyes in a way that I had always admired but there were dark circles under them from nights that she had spent battling her inner demons while I held her.
"Jake.." Her full lips formed a weak smile.
I didn't speak, just stared at her. I was afraid that if I did, I would lose the last shred of sanity I had left for tonight. In this moment, I felt older than I was. At twenty-five I should be thinking about the family that I would be starting but this broken girl in front of me had consumed my every waking moment for a decade now. There had been times when I had hated her for it but had known deep down that I could never truly hate her. Some small part of me would always love her. It was the depression she had struggled with all her life that I truly hated. Despite my advice and offers, she had decided repress it with drugs and sex than with actual medical help. She had in a way sealed our fates.
Her arms trembled as she tried to prop herself up which is when I noticed the open wounds on her wrists. I slid my way across the floor so that I was closer to where she was now.
"I'm so sorry, Jake. I just can't do it anymore." She sounded tired. The light in her eyes had dimmed to almost nothing now as she searched mine for something.
"I know, Amber. I love you." I said back softly.
She seemed satisfied and leaned back, closing her eyes once more. Her breathing continued to slow as time wore on. For the first time in a long time, I felt a calmness sweep through me unlike any I had ever felt before. I almost didn't recognize it when it happened. Amber had lost a lot of blood today and even though I was no doctor, I knew that the lack of blood mixed with all of the pills she was sure to have downed just before I got here were going to be too much this time. It was almost as if I could feel it within myself. I don't know how long it took for her breathing to stop but the instant it did, I could feel my heart start to slow. It didn't hurt like I thought it would but the prospect of what came after was still mildly terrifying, especially with how long it was taking. As my chest clenched with the finality of my last handful of breaths, my eyes landed on her. She would be the last thing I saw and even though I had never really believed in anything after death, I knew that wherever she went I was going to follow. Even now, pale and fragile, she was as beautiful as she had ever been and I knew that my last words to her had been absolutely true. | 2017-03-22T19:03:01 | 2017-03-22T18:32:13 | 53 | 11 |
[WP] You start to suspect that the dumb brute of your adventuring party is far more intelligent and cunning than anyone thought. | I studied the man-mountain before me. Seven or eight feet tall; scantily clad; rippling muscles; and long, flowing hair. In *Alhamazad's Illustrated Dictionary (Common)*, under the entry "Barbarian", there would be a picture of this guy. Not that I expected him to be familiar with the book; in barbarian culture - using the loosest definition of the term - it is considered advanced reading and known only to the highest of barbarian academics (again, in the loosest definition of the word).
"Korg," he explained, referring to himself in the third person yet again, "am wizard."
As ridiculous as the statement was, I managed not to laugh out loud. Barbarians may not be considered as possessing the most intelligent of cultures, but it is widely known that to openly insult one is the surest route to needing a *Cure Critical Wounds* - which isn't cheap; Clerics that have a spare 4th level spell slot aren't exactly common.
I drained my mug. One of the benefits of seeking party members in an inn - as cliché as it may be - is that there's always a good supply of ale on hand.
"Korg," I managed to say, "I was under the impression that... uh... your people? Were not known for their affinity for the casting arts."
Korg stared at me blankly. I sighed, and sought for a way to simplify my sentence.
"Korg, barbarians not wizards!"
The words must have reached him, because his muscular brow furrowed as he struggled to put his next sentence together. I could almost see the gears turning.
"Korg understand," he finally said. "Korg diss... desk... Korg *find* lost barbarian magic; Korg FIRST wizard!" He laughed heartily, and emptied his ale mug in a single swallow. "First wizard since old days. We adventure! Make Korg LEGEND!"
I smiled despite myself. The poor misguided dolt was just so... *likeable.*
And that was when the assassin struck.
The first I knew of the danger was when the blade appeared at my throat. A voice hissed in my ear: "The Fire King sends his regards, brother." The gloved hand holding the dagger bore the deep red emblem of the Fire King's personal assassins.
I closed my eyes, and waited for Death's grim embrace.
Instead, I heard Korg shout: "MAGIC MISSILE!"
There was a thud, the crunching sound of breaking bones, and the sickeningly sweet smell of fresh blood.
I opened my eyes and looked around. It seemed that Death had come - but not for me. A body lay on the floor beside me; an enormous axe protruding from it's forehead.
Korg knelt beside the body, and with one hand easily pulled the axe free. I doubt I could have moved it with both hands and a mule.
Korg looked up at me and smiled. "Spell focus; not cheap." He tucked the axe behind his back; returning it from whence it came, I assume.
I tried to say something, but the shock of my narrowly-averted assassination repeatedly tripped my tongue.
"That's... That's not how M-M-M-Magic Missile works!" I eventually stammered out. "It doesn't even *HAVE* a focus component!"
Korg looked at me as if *I* was the stupid one.
"Korg tell you already," he said.
"Lost."
"Barbarian."
*"Magic."*
And then... Well, maybe I imagined it. But I could have sworn, just then...
He *winked* at me. | The scythe-beast crawls down the ridge like a dark teardrop and leaps upon the archers waiting in ambush. It takes three short crimson blurs to behead all but one of the archers, and the survivor only just looses an iron-tipped arrow before he falls screaming into the beast's jaws. The creature drops to the earth and spits out crushed hair and leather before it crawls back up the ridge and vanishes at the edge.
*I told you. That thing always kills those archers,* Ganathe whispers.
*And they never learn?* I ask.
*Not yet. You have to understand that they've only been in this battle for a century or two.*
Shota laughs, louder than he should.
I look at Asuwa on the highest branch far above us. She shakes her head.
*There's nobody else coming,* I say to Ganathe, *Maybe we should find a better place to hide than this tree. I don't like having that thing this close.*
She squints, peering into the distance, *No, wait. There should be two cataphracts passing by.*
Asuwa drops a crowfruit seed on her head.
*No offense, Asuwa,* Ganathe glares up, *but I've studied the eternal battle for years. The cataphracts have been passing along this route since your people had an empire.*
She dodges to avoid another seed. I hiss at everyone to be quiet.
Minutes pass in silence. I keep a watchful eye on the ridge. Flies begin to buzz, gathering upon the dead archers like blankets.
*Do you think those flies were trapped in the curse too?* Shota wonders aloud again.
*No, Shota. They're also here to steal the gems. See that large fly there? When I spent the last decade discovering how to infiltrate the eternal battle without being trapped, that fucker was my assistant. I spent many memorable evenings discussing magic with it, while it shat in my ale. And then it stole my methods and press-ganged a bunch of its fly pals to steal the gems before us, just to spite me. Now keep quiet!*
Shota stares at me open-mouthed, *And you didn't tell us?*
Asuwa drops seeds on both our heads.
*Shh,* she says, and I make a mental note to drop a boulder on her later.
Before I can respond, I hear the sound of hooves. The cataphracts approach. The one ahead spots the dead archers and signals the rest to move quickly. He dismounts to study the corpses while the others move into a defensive formation.
*What happens now?* I ask.
Ganathe shrugs, *For some reason, they always regain their freedom of thought at this point. I couldn't find any patterns in the historical archives.*
*So they could look in this tree?* I look at her in disbelief.
*Conceivably.*
The great philosopher, Muriaphis, in the moment of his ascension to heaven, had uttered the words, **For all under heaven that may goeth againsth thy glory, may in that moment truly goeth againsth thy glory.** I always despised him for going out with such a negative message for his disciples, but fuck if he wasn't right.
The cataphracts had begun to move around in a search pattern, looking for clues. Two of them were moving toward us. Nobody was looking up at the cliff. There were eleven of them. Heavily armored. From the looks of their heraldry, probably trapped in this cursed battle for thousands of years, with all the fighting experience that brings. We would be hard pressed to bring down one of them, much less all eleven.
*Well, fuck. Nobody speak, nobody choke, nobody move.*
And as if in response, Shota, that lumbering oaf, shouts out, *Watch out for the beast!*
The cataphracts all turn in beautiful unison in our direction. Shota drops to the ground and bellows loudly, the giant shit. They slowly move to form an aggressive formation, facing us. Facing away from the ridge.
The scythe-beast's head pops out from over the edge at the top. It takes a spectacular jump right on top of the formation, ripping apart their horses and swallowing two whole. Shota quickly scampers up the tree like a cat.
The fight is incomprehensible. I can see blood and bits of metal flying, horses neighing and men screaming, and dust. So much dust that it obscures everything. Meanwhile, my brave company and I lie still in the tree. Shota, bless the gods, is still enough to make me fear that he has fallen asleep and may start snoring, the fucker.
When the dust clears, I see about half a dozen dead cataphracts strewn across the earth. Various parts lying around, some chewed, others twitching. The beast is nowhere to be seen. I silently thank it for finishing off the soldiers and scaring away the rest.
Shota jumps down the tree, looks up at us and smiles widely, *The thing must be full now. Can't be hungry after eating that. Safe.* and happily moves away to inspect the dead.
*Please tell me he didn't plan that,* I ask Ganathe, as she squints in Shota's direction suspiciously.
| 2017-03-31T02:13:11 | 2017-03-31T01:03:46 | 163 | 36 |
[WP] If, when you die, you don't get into heaven, there is an option to try again, and get in the next time. There is a man who has been trying for millennia; he has been Ghengis Khan, Hitler, and many other brutal leaders. That man is you, and this time, you're determined to get it right. | "I need to know about my past lives. It's important. I need to know who I was to determine who I am supposed to be..."
The medium gave me a pensive glance over, her eyes focusing first on me, then through me, then snappiung back to me.
"I see who you have been. Judas. Ghenghis Khan. Hitler. You have been the most evil yet charismatic of men. You have been condemned for your sins, and you will find the path to heaven a difficult struggle. You must choose your path carefully, or you will not pass the gates after this lifetime either."
I could feel the weight of my past on my shoulders. The dreams have been true. I must overcome the darkness in my being, and become something that is better. I must use my power to lead for the betterment of mankind this time, I must eschew my temptations for power and control.
Closing my eyes, taking a deep breath and centering myself, I thank the medium for my time. Standing up, I straighten up, and turn to leave. I walk out the door, put my red "Make America Great" cap onto my head, and head towards the presidential limosine. | There she was again, fat face, full of cake, laughing as she told me another anecdote of her worthless kid, spraying food all over my desk. I hate Karen, hated her since I first started working at this paper company. This pathetic job, with is grey walls, stale coffee, worn carpet and depressing looking people. It was all beneath me, I could be great again, reach such great heights again... But patience. Patience was key this time. I was determined to get it right. I had an outlet this time.
As I left work and walked the poorly paved streets to the grocery store, the rain tapping away lightly on my face, past the safe unimaginative buildings that littered this city, I thought of all the grandure I could bring to it if I were in charge again. How I can elevate this city, this country, to new levels of greatness, create a standard of living for the select chosen few... But patience, there was still time. I had an outlet now.
Standing in line, waiting to pay for my food, I saw a man cut in line with the pretence of talking to a friend he just happened to see. People looked angrily at him, but said nothing. City of wimps. My blood was boiling, that vein on my head was throbbing, so I gazed at the woman standing near me, her baby strapped to her. She was attractive, her black hair falling effortlessly on her shoulders. The child looking around in wonderment. And suddenly a hunger filled me. I wanted her, right here, on the store floor. I would raid her house, kill her husband, smash her baby... no, must be patient, it was almost time for my outlet.
I sat on the couch, belly full, watching the blond haired chubby monkey they called leader of the free world talking his nonsense. They dared to compare him to what I had accomplished. It was insulting. He was nothing. I looked over to my bookshelf, lined with The Prince, Mein Kumft, books on the Great Khan and Napoleon. I had a library dedicated to my greatness, a monument to past achievements. I looked back at the TV, his stupid fat face vomiting hateful diarrhea at an amaturistic level. It was an affront to everything I ever stood for. AND THEY COMPARED HIM TO ME!!!!! Now was time. No more need for patience.
I sat in front of my computer. I looked at the tabs to youtube, reddit, breitbart where I could incite hate, start a war of words. But they were nothing compared to this. My cursor hovered over the program, my hand slightly shaking, waiting for the sweet release. I double clicked, and watched the opening video of civilization 5. It was worth it, my mediocre life, for this. I looked at my kingdom. Nothing stood in my way... except for that damned Gandhi. I'll crush him today. Then the computer made a last gasp sound and died. I stared at it. No life. My whole body was shaking, but my mind was clear. I knew what i wound do. This world was in trouble. | 2017-03-31T11:46:40 | 2017-03-31T11:38:45 | 166 | 21 |
[WP] If, when you die, you don't get into heaven, there is an option to try again, and get in the next time. There is a man who has been trying for millennia; he has been Ghengis Khan, Hitler, and many other brutal leaders. That man is you, and this time, you're determined to get it right. | Each lifetime seemed to me only a moment. I had always forcefully forged a path, etching my name in the memories of past world's inhabitants to be passed on for eternities to come.
I have been here a thousand times before. That short and sweet gift of existence, the driving hunger and motivation to succeed, to change humanity for the better, always somehow brings me back. Driving the world forward, for better or worse. I have always believed this my burden to bear, my cross to carry.
This is my last chance, and now I must decide.
33 Years Later:
My fingers drift through soft, strawberry curls. The weight of her head rests on my shoulder, her small body nestled in close to me. Here, now. This is where I want to stay forever.
Thirty three years ago, I realized how I had failed every time before. Forcing my presence on the world, exhaustively exerting all energy in the hopes that my actions would provide a direction for the rest of His creation. How selfish I had been. How vain.
This time, I dedicated my life to the life of someone else. In this life, I have not forced my presence on the world. I have not attempted to move mountains. My life has been and will be dedicated to this beautiful being, this innocent child.
I will show her the wonder of the world, convey to her the preciousness of its existence and the preciousness of all life residing here.
This time, I will live history and not become it. This time, my contribution to the world will be her. Her laughter, her love, her curiosity, her joy. Her light.
This time, I became a father. | "You again?" said the booth clerk. His thick-rimmed glasses could not hide the obvious disappointment that took his face.
We were in the Great Hall of Reincarnation. It was my... 8th time I think? No, I think more than that... There was Draco, Nero, Attila... Ghengis, Vlad, Ivan, and Colombus... then Hitler. Those were the successful ones, at least. I tend to forget the failures. What's the point really?
The hall was a grand exchange of life and death, resembling Grand Central Station in New York. Great towering ceiling, intricately cut stone and detailing, all the while a great windowed dome let the light of Heaven in. It's always nice to see, but I was ready to get back to Earth.
"Mhmm, I'm back!" I said, "And this time can you send me to the US, Russia or China? I think there's some great potential there. Things are really heating up and I need another power nation. I really think this time I could take over the world."
The clerk typed something into his computer. I learned long ago this wasn't necessary. These clerks were more or less angels, given the foresight to see into the present and future. I think it just gave them some extra time to see and a visual for the dead to know that the clerks weren't just staring off into space.
"How about Madagascar?" he said at last.
"Madagascar?! Are you mad?"
"Nope, it's one of the 60 countries I could send you where you won't do much harm to humanity. In fact, you'll do the least there," the clerk said. His hand hovered over the "Enter" key, ready to send me on my way.
"Don't you press that button," I told him. "I've almost conquered the world a few times now and you're not going to stop me now."
"I can certainly stop you," he said and his hand made contact with the keyboard, but didn't press it.
"Jeffery!" a loud voice rang from the back of the clerk's office. Quickly, the clerk spun around.
"S-sir, what is it?" the clerk asked.
A tall, balded man in a black suit came into sight. His grin reminded me of a man in a position of immense power. In fact, it reminded me of me in some of my past lives.
"I seem to have overheard you're thinking of sending this man to Madagascar," the man said.
"Well, yes, sir. He's had a history of human destruction and totalitarian rule. The world doesn't need more of that right now. It's bad enough."
"Oh, Jeffery, overstepping your responsibilities again, are you?" said the man as he cupped his hand on the clerk's shoulder. "I think it's best you left this to me."
The clerk nodded and left, looking back sheepishly before closing the door to the office.
"So, you want another chance to rule the world?" the man said, taking a seat where Jeffery was. "How does the US sound?"
"Great," I smiled.
"Excellent," said the man, hovering over the "enter" key. "Don't forget: the Devil's always on your shoulder." Then he winked and pressed down. I was gone, destined for another chance at power.
----
Thank you for reading! More at /r/ItsPronouncedGif. | 2017-03-31T12:19:09 | 2017-03-31T06:04:16 | 92 | 65 |
[WP] If, when you die, you don't get into heaven, there is an option to try again, and get in the next time. There is a man who has been trying for millennia; he has been Ghengis Khan, Hitler, and many other brutal leaders. That man is you, and this time, you're determined to get it right. | "What am I doing wrong?"
I said it out loud, but I knew he wouldn't answer. He just sat there and asked again,
"Give up? Or try again?".
His question echoed as if we were in a cave, but the room was about the size of a elevator. It would have terrified me if this was my first time. That was long ago, from Cain, to Ghengis, to Nero, to... I can't remember.
But I swear, I tried everything. I fought for myself. I fought for others. I fought for God, all of them. I fought for king and country. Yet, I still come here.
Did I fight hard enough? Was it the wrong target? Was I not strong enough? Was I not smart enough? Could I have fough-...
...Fought...
"Fighting. Was that it? Was I to focused on fighting? Should I have been doing something else?"
"Give up? Or try again?" He bellowed.
What else is there? Fighting wasn't getting me anywhere. I have to try something new.
But what?
Well, what's the opposite of war?
Peace?
Yeah, yeah that might be it. Peace.
"Give up? Or try again?" He bellowed.
"Try again." I answered.
"What will your name be?" He inquired.
"Hmm, let's go with...
Mahatma Gandhi." | The white lights flashed again. It was coming back to me, everything; the cries for help, the scent of clotted blood on the dead, the eyes that begged for mothers as they saw death flashing in front of their faces. Ironic I guess, considering that I think that I'm dead. Or at least I figure I must be dead considering all I see is a man who I can only say radiates power.
"So I see you've failed again?" he smirked, "54 tries and still nothing".
"What? I don't get it? Am I dead?"
"Obviously. That's a pretty dumb questions even for your standards and ruthlessness. If you were only that dumb when you Nero."
"Me? Nero? When" I was aghast. "I am not a horrible person am I?"
"Great! This part again. 54 times and I always have to explain this part to you. You die. You either reach Nirvana or you go back to earth and I have NEVER seen someone beat your, well, highscore." the entity exasperatedly said.
"But I pay taxes!" Yet as the words left my mouth, all my memories came back.
"Maybe you do, but I think you should be remembering now."
And I was. I remembered my individual lives, when I sacked Persopolis, Baghdad, Tenochtitlan, Jerusalem. Each time, some called me a hero, but yet, many called me one thing. A murderer. Each time, I thought unifying the world or at least ruling with an iron fist would bring peace, yet all it did was bring my demise.
"How? Why? I did all of that? How can I?"
My knees felt weak and I started sobbing and curling on the floor. But the entity seemed unfazed, even looking in contempt. How could it be so cruel?
"Save it, this time your actions were so wanton and cruel you must face trial at the Eternal Court and in front of the Supreme One."
"I didn't mean to kill 80 million people, I swear"
"Yet you did."
"World War Two wasn't my fault! It was Hitler! I wasn't even responsible for Nanjing! I didn't even order half of the atrocities committed. How could I? I was only a prince!"
"Actions have consequences. Consequences lead to other actions and they stain history with blood"
"I... I..." I couldn't carry on. I was guilty. Maybe it was time to stop trying.
Suddenly, the entity changed his expression. "Guilt, I have never seen that before. Maybe..."
In an instant, he disappeared and I heard a ringing in my ear, as if the world was being born anew. Then I heard his voice again, faintly in the distance "The Supreme One has seen your guilt, you have one last chance to reach Nirvana. Maybe it'll be different this time, maybe it will not. All I can say is, at the minimum, at least leave earth the same as it was, maybe you will even be granted a seat just for that. After all, you will be the first one to fail..." The voice started to get more distant and faint, the world started spinning again. Then it became black. All I felt was warmth. All I heard now was "I think we will name him Martin" and I went back to sleep.
| 2017-03-31T12:40:36 | 2017-03-31T08:26:10 | 71 | 22 |
[WP] If, when you die, you don't get into heaven, there is an option to try again, and get in the next time. There is a man who has been trying for millennia; he has been Ghengis Khan, Hitler, and many other brutal leaders. That man is you, and this time, you're determined to get it right. | I sat at my desk, lazily gazing at the television. Listening to the screaming of innocent civilians. Can't really sympathise with them, I'd become too desensitised to these sorts of things. But, as the second one began to fall over, I realised that I should probably do something. So I turned to the only man who knew what sort of situation I was in. "Lord, what should I do right now?" I asked. He replied "Ghengis, I can't tell you how to get into heaven. You're just going to have to do what you think is best, and continue getting it wrong until you get it right.". I quickly looked back at the television, both buildings had completely crumbled. It was right then when I realised what I had to do. "Assistant!" I yelled. "Yes, Mr. President." He said in a somber voice. "We're going to start a war. A war on terror!". | "Well, looks like you're back again. Where are you going to now?" the angel asked. It didn't look like he was impressed with my achievements as a rebellion leader in the 28th century. In fact, he looked at me like this is the billionth time I was here, just like the question he asked had implied. However, I couldn't recall actually being here. Hell, I didn't even know my cause of death. "What are you talking about? Have I died before? How did I die?" I asked. "You... You don't know? I need to consult an archangel about this." was the response from the now slightly stressed-looking angel. He rushed off to somewhere, leaving me in the seemingly sterile environment that consisted mostly of clouds, with small rooms of marble here and there. The angel came back eventually, accompanied by an armed and armoured man, presumably the archangel he was talking about before. "This is the one, sir, the one that cannot recall his past lives or cause of death." he said, referring to me. The archangel was seemingly taken aback by my presence, as he drew his weapon and plunged it into the ground, probably to intimidate me. It didn't work, I had seen much more intimidating foes as a rebel leader. "So, you don't know who you were?" he inquired, almost as if he didn't believe me. "Well, I know I was named Sir Satan during my life," I replied, "nobody knows what my birth name was, as it was lost to time when Imperial Intelligence captured me."
The angel and what I assumed was his superior retreated to a door that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Speaking of things suddenly spawning, a number of other spirits were starting to rise from the ground. They look oddly familiar, yet I do not recognise them. While I tried to figure out who they were, the heavenly beings returned. They told me, "Well, after some rather intense discussing with the other angels, some saints and even God himself, we have decided to tell you.
In multiple lifetimes, you have aspired to take over the world, exterminate the human race as well as other races, and actually blew up a planet. You've gone into history as some of the worst people imaginable. Do the names Adolf Hitler, Genghis Khan, Q'im Juah, and Joseph Stalin ring a bell?". I nodded. The spirits that rose around me started to become less obscured, and the facial features of the men he mentioned started to become visible. "You're going to get one last chance. If you don't get into heaven then, you're going to rot in hell for eternity, at the command of the man you pretended to be in your last life. Do you understand, and accept this chance?"
> *My first submission. Feedback would be much appreciated.* | 2017-03-31T14:19:18 | 2017-03-31T11:14:34 | 45 | 13 |
[WP] Humans are unique. They are the only omnivores in the galaxy. Until they appeared on the galactic scene, the galaxy was firmly split between Carnivores and Herbivores. | Frank noticed the aliens looking at him funny, which didn't help his mood. They'd arrived unannounced, but you just had to be nice, you know?
So he smiled and nodded, taking a bite of his burger. The aliens winced.
"Sorry guys, would you like a bite?" he asked, suddenly realizing he hadn't even offered them.
The alien spoke in garbled tones, then adjusted a sophisticated-looking device on its neck, which immediately turned his gibberish into perfect English. "Sorry, Earth Frank, but I'm not sure if you've noticed... you have a bun around your food. There's even some *lettuce*."
The other alien shuddered, pointing at the insides of the hamburger.
"And gh-gherkins," it added with effort.
Frank frowned. "Oh, not a fan of garnish?" he asked, getting up towards his fridge. "Prefer it separate? I'm sure I can fix you guys up a salad, or something..."
He stopped when he saw their expressions.
"We do not eat the dreaded *plants*, I'm afraid," the alien replied haughtily, as his friend nodded in agreement. "We eat meat, and only meat. In fact, you must be the only... 'omnivores' we've encountered in the galaxy."
Frank was amazed. "You mean every intelligent species only eat meat?"
"Oh, no," the alien replied, "it's either only meat, or only not-meat."
"You mean like vegans?" Frank asked.
The second alien leaned and whispered something to his friend, who nodded.
"We prefer the term, 'pussies'."
"I see..." Frank said, amazed. "So, what are you guys even doing here? I would have cleaned up if I'd known I was going to be the ambassador for the human race," he said with a laugh. The aliens did not even crack a smile.
"Oh, we were just looking for some new food," the alien said, looking Frank up and down. "But I don't think our stomachs would agree with *you*."
Frank pondered the sentence for a while, the implications slowly dawning on him. "Oh, no no, not at all," he said, looking around awkwardly. "Us humans would come right back up, I'm afraid."
The alien frowned, finishing his drink and getting up. "It's a shame, really," it said, glancing at Frank one last time. "No scales, no fur, just fat, pink skin... are you sure there aren't any carnivores or 'pussies' on your planet?"
The other alien licked its lips. Frank hurriedly took another bite of his burger, and the alien turned away and gagged.
"No no," Frank said, picking lettuce out of his teeth, "just us omnivores, really. Just us little ol' omnivores."
The aliens shook their head, then walked to the door, their spaceship appearing out of thin air.
"Farewell, Earth Frank," the alien said, not bothering to look back. "Let us know if you ever change your disgusting dietary habits."
Frank smiled weakly, watching them go.
He sat down after they'd left, letting out a big sigh. It occurred to him that he'd just saved at least a small portion of the human race.
He stared at his burger.
"I guess a balanced diet really *is* important," he said to no one in particular.
*****
*****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my new subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | "No that's not right." I quickly shuffle through my index cards.
"Sixteen, seventeen, eigh- where's eighteen?" I shuffle through the cards again, trying not to let anxiety set in. Tallying up the cards I realize I'm short one.
"Valley? Valley come help me look for eighteen!" I call from my office. My sandy skinned Zweil fiance skips to the door and peeks in.
"Love has lost a number?" She asks, stepping into the room. I look up from my cards to see she's wearing the over sized human shirt we got at the Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park.
"I've lost a numbered card. I was going over my presentation notes again and I can't find eighteen." I present to her my color coded stack of index cards.
"Alright I will look below, you look above." I stand and start going through the papers on my desk. Valley darts to my side and throws herself onto her hands and knees. Her shirt pulls up as she searches under the desk and I catch a glimpse of her butt and little stubby tail, apparently the shirt is all she decided to wear today. I catch myself staring and resume looking through papers.
"Pink! Pink eighteen!" Valley calls out from between the desk and the wall.
"That's the one."
"One? Not eighteen?"
"No, no, eighteen is correct." I say, sinking back into my chair and giving her tail a little tug. I hear a tiny Zweil gasp from under the desk as she shimmies her way out, pulling up her shirt even more. Valley pushes herself up to standing and holds out the card.
"Here you go, you... tail-toucher!" She huffs. I laugh and accept the card.
"Thank you Valley. Your emoting lessons are working. Do you still enjoy those?" I ask, sorting my cards back into order.
"Yes I do, they are fun, and help me be closer to Love."
"Good, I'm glad you like them. By the way, I was thinking singles tonight, I need to keep rehearsing so I can't cook anything too hard."
"It is alright, I am not hungry today."
"I suppose not, you really pigged-out Monday."
"My U.T. doesn't know pigged-out. Another idiom?"
"Right, pigs are Earth animals that eat and eat a lot of food, and when they get old enough and fat enough, we process them into food for humans. Pigging out means eating a lot of food just like a pig."
"I understand. What do pigs eat a lot of?" Valley asks; she was standing far enough way that I just now start to feel her 'grey' waves.
"Coincidentally, pigs are omnivores just like humans, and... wait, are you just prompting me?"
"Yes I was." She purrs. I reach out and rest my hand on her head, rubbing her nubby-corona crest with my thumb.
"Valley, would you do me the honor of being my practice audience?"
"My U.T. doesn't know audience. Yes I will help Love." She smiles her toothy smile. She's been getting better at that too. I stand up and offer her my hand, which she accepts, and we walk out to the living room.
"An audience is a group of people who watch and listen to something, like in a movie theater, or at a music concert, or even watching official presentations." I explain. I grab Valley by her waspish waist and plop her onto a kitchen chair.
"I am only one Zweil, not a group." She mewls, as I take my position with the television to my back.
"An audience of one is about all I'm prepared for right now."
"Then that is what I will be. I am ready to hear Love's speech." I clear my throat, mentally going through my tempo.
"Good evening Ladies, Gentlemen, distinguished verselves. My presentation tonight is a brief, yet informative account of the Milkway Galaxy's 'Sustenance Animosity' between the Keplerian and Eridani; and the Human intervention resulting in the 'Milkyway Omnivorous Xenospeices Concord.' Click to next slide." I clear my throat and peer over at Valley, she gives a tiny thumbs-up. I smile, and flip to the next card.
. . .
"And that is why, honored guests, the M.O.X.C. was the seed *and* the rib, to a better future for all sapient xenospeices of the Milkway Galaxy. Click to end slide." Valley stands up on the chair and applauds.
"Love that was wonderful! I have never learned so much without having to ask any questions!" She cheers. I blush and bow deeply. Valley hops off her chair and runs over to me. I catch her by her sides, lifting her up and spinning her around before pulling her into a hug. I kiss her and she kisses me back.
"Thank you for being such a good audience."
"I loved every word, even the ones my U.T. did not know."
"So you're saying you would've loved it no matter what I said?"
"Yes, because I love you." She giggles and I laugh. I kiss her neck and she happily purrs.
"Would you like to see it with the slideshow next time?"
"Yes I would." Valley smiles, her too big smile.
_____
I hope you've enjoyed my story. I've created a subreddit to share the stories of these characters. All future works and prompt inspired stories will be found at [/r/ValleyandMe](https://www.reddit.com/r/ValleyandMe/) | 2017-05-16T00:17:00 | 2017-05-16T00:07:39 | 754 | 106 |
[WP] Lycanthropy is a real disease that perplexes everyone. One interesting fact about it is that it isn't restricted to wolf forms, but can extend to bear forms, bat forms, panther forms and a few others. The rarest of them all is dragon form, which you have been diagnosed with
Edit: Well this prompt exploded
Yay for me I hit 5000 karma... and it's going up still... | You might think of dragons as noble beasts, defending realms, or guarding towers with princess' locked inside. Perhaps you think of them as cute little creatures with big round eyes and pointed tails. That is not so. They feast on blood and fear, and their taste for child-meat, in particular, is *insatiable*.
Did you know that dragons have a frontal row of fangs meant for tearing and ripping a child's flesh away, and a row of blunt teeth behind for masticating and releasing all those delicious flavors?
Hm? Oh, a dark ale, I think. Thank you.
My name is Agni, and I am what is commonly referred to as a *werebear*. You might ask: *what is a werebear, and where did the name come from?* Well, that is all thanks to Susan Garthwaite - a werewolf. Susan contracted the first case of primal-morphistation at the age of seventeen. On nights around a full moon - a night either side - Suzan would explode into a wolf like creature, that at the time, was referred to as a *werewolf*. Suzan, given the unfortunate distinction of the first primal-morphistation case, was prodded and poked by doctors for the rest of her rather short life - until one day, the doctors *tragically* poked too far.
Susan might not have stuck around for long, but the term *werewolf,* unfortunately did. Hence, *werebear* was given to my condition. Strangely, the dysfunctional nomenclature did not carry over to *weredragons*, and instead we simply refer to those people as *dragons*.
I'm sorry, I'm boring you with history that you're no doubt aware of - but I don't stop by many places like this, and having a drink and telling a tale is something I can't resist. So, where was I? Ah yes, dragons - thank you.
There is some truth to those old dragon myths and tales. They have an armour of almost impenetrable scales, that also serves to disguise their black hearts with its iridescent shimmering. Children just can't look away. *Candy from a baby*. Breathing fire is an exaggeration, but their bite is poisonous and will paralyse a man within twenty seconds. Treasure hoarding? Well of course, they like money but they tend to prefer souvenirs from their kills. A rattle, perhaps. Or a teddy-bear, or a locket. I've seen them keep enough artefacts from a single child to put royal shrines to shame.
Ah, you've heard the legends of the dragons already? Have you heard too of their cunning? No, not many have, but it should never be underestimated!
Another beer, and I will tell you my purpose for being here. I must say, your musician is excellent! It's not often you see a fiddle player any more. There's something so... *whimsical* about it, don't you think?
I am here because I have been chasing a dragon. Ha! No, not that kind. A real dragon, and it has migrated towards the safety of these hills. Calm down, please! - your children are safe as long as I'm here! As I said, I am a werebear, and my teeth are one of the few things that can rip through the scales of a dragon.
This one's name is Kalama, and from the darkness I see falling outside your windows, I would suggest you have but two hours until she *turns*, and her hunt begins. You will see my eyes are already turning the tell-tale red of the werebear.
Yes, quite right to call your children inside.
Money to stay here and protect you? But I must be on my way to hunt the damned beast!
*That much?* Well... I can hardly refuse it. And, I suppose I might end up saving lives. Very well, I accept.
Do you have a cellar room here? Good! Gather the village children and bring them there, within the hour. I can keep them safe, as long as they are together. Then, keep that door locked until the moon falls and the morning sun rises. Already I feel the first twitch of my morphistation begin - and so will Kalama!
Yes this cellar room is perfect.
*Hello children*.
Leave us now, I will guard them - have the men watch the doors and windows upstairs.
Good, it is locked firm.
Hello there, sweetheart, that's a lovely doll you have.
It would make for a wonderful souvenir.
---
If you liked this, please come check out more of my stuff on /r/nickofnight
Thanks for reading!
| ”Lonny, stop!” came the muffled cry of Liza’s mother. “Lonny, please, you’re hurting me!”
Liza's chubby fingers dug into the soft fabric as she pushed the pillow over her ears, trying to block out the noise from the other room. Snot and tears were forming a wet gooey puddle on the mattress. Something made out of glass smashed in the other room, and her mother’s cries stopped.
Liza’s tiny heart skipped a beat as the doorknob to her room turned with a squeak. She held her breath and tried to be still. Lonny was standing right next to her bed, she could feel it.
“Are you sleeping, Sweet Pea?” came his rough voice after a drawn out moment.
She did her best to pretend she was asleep, but she guessed that her pounding heart could be heard from the other side of the room.
*BAM BAM BAM BAM*, it slammed against the inside of her ribcage, *BAM BAM BAM BAM*
“I know you’re awake, Liza. I’m not bloody stupid!”
*****
Liza gasped and sat up. She threw her legs over the side of her sweat-soaked bed. Her eyes were all sticky from crying. Almost twenty years later, and the memories of her childhood still plagued her dreams.
*BAM BAM BAM BAM*
There was somebody at the door. She wrapped herself in a fresh blanket and hurried to open.
“Well, you look like shit…” Veronica said and stepped into the apartment.
“Thanks,” Liza mumbled. “Do you want coffee?”
“You’re out,” she said, already in the kitchen. “God this place looks like a refugee shelter – disgusting!”
From the sound of it, she was going through all her cupboards and drawers. Liza sighed and followed Veronica.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Veronica stopped in the middle of tossing a bowl of old fruit into the garbage. She shook her head and then crossed the kitchen. Her hand came up too fast for Liza to react. It hit her cheek hard. Stinging pain bloomed from the side of her face, and she felt her eyes tear up.
“Don’t you dare tell me you forgot!”
Shit, she thought, the wedding. She felt the heat spreading through her body. Nursing her burning cheek with her hand, Liza tried to keep her voice steady.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“I don’t ask much from you, Liza, you know that right?”
“Yes, I know. I’m sorry, okay?”
Veronica had always looked out for her and Liza hated to be a disappointment. In school, she had protected her from the bullies, and she’d been the one to help her find her first job. Liza owed so much to Veronica.
“Well, get dressed and let’s go!”
“I’m sorry,” Liza mumbled again and stumbled out of the kitchen.
Fifty minutes later they arrived at the church. Liza pulled at the folds of the tight dress she was forced to wear. She hurried out and ran towards the chapel. Being late as a bride’s maid was unacceptable.
“Thanks to you, I'll look bad now too,” Veronica said through her teeth as they entered. “Everyone’s already here.”
Liza glanced at all the new faces. She only really knew Veronica and Mary – the bride. All the eyes of the people in the church were on them. Liza tried to make herself look small, wanting to disappear into her uncomfortable sandal heels. Even the groom gave her a disapproving look.
The organs started playing, and Liza shook her head, still not quite awake from the dream before. She could still see Lonny’s face. She rubbed her eyes again to make the bad thoughts disappear. She took a deep breath. She could still see him. He was right there in the front row, smirking at her. His hair was gray, and the furrows on his face were deeper, but it was definitely him. Those hateful peering eyes were hard to forget.
Liza tried her best to ignore him, and focus on something else. Mary looked stunning in her white wedding dress as she sailed down the aisle. Liza felt the burning heat inside her again. This was the worst time to have a fever.
Everything became a blur. The music, the people, the monotone voice of the priest. Liza felt a sharp pain in her side.
“Liza!” Veronica said and elbowed her again. “The ring!”
The heat on her inside was suddenly replaced with ice. She had completely forgotten about the ring. Everyone in the crowd looked at her. Veronica slapped her hard for the second time that day and started screaming. Then everyone started screaming at her. Even Mary and the groom.
“Hey, hey, hey." Ironically enough the only voice of reason belonged to Lonny. “I’ll take her to get it; it’ll only be ten minutes.”
Liza’s was burning on the inside but the drops of sweat on her face turned to ice. Lonny separated the crowd and pulled her to her feet with an all-too-familiar iron grip on her arm. Liza hadn’t even realized she’d fallen over and ruined the champagne fountain.
“No,” Liza pleaded. “You can’t send me with him.”
“Shut up, Liza,” Veronica said. “You’ve ruined this wedding enough.”
“But…”
“No buts, young lady,” Lonny said. “I’ll take right good care of you. We’ll fetch that ring in no time.”
“I know you’re anxious about new people,” Mary said, and touched the arm of her soon-to-be-husband, “But don’t worry; Jacob’s dad is a real stand-up guy.”
Her face turned red and it felt like the blood in her cheeks was boiling. Liza trembled as Lonny dragged her toward the exit.
“Let’s go get that ring…” he said and breathed down her neck. “… Sweet Pea.”
Liza stopped in her tracks. She felt like the fire in her veins was seeping through her skin. Something in her back snapped. And when she looked down at her arms, the skin was flaking and turning red. Claws sprouted from her fingertips, and she felt like she was being lifted into the ceiling of the chapel.
Liquid fire shot in torrents from her mouth, setting the entire church and everyone within ablaze. She laughed at the puny man pinned under her tail.
“Goodnight, Sweat Pea,” she roared and brought her foot down with a crunch.
| 2017-05-20T04:58:58 | 2017-05-20T04:21:15 | 469 | 142 |
[WP] You join the military, you are placed in the gardeners program. You garden in exotic places where the military has done operations, each time they give special glasses and forbid spraying others. One day your glasses fall off and you see you are actually burning corpses with a flamethrower. | I took my glasses off for the first time in a long time... then I wiped them off with my shirt and put them back on. There was no time to waste, our team's engineer yelled out "SPY ZAPPIN' MAH SENTRY!" As the team's only pyro, I quickly ignited the enemy spy and took out my trusty homewrecker. With one clean swing the electric device was disarmed. The engineer decided to celebrate by using the high-five taunt. I wanted to humor him so I joined in. This was the last time I ever accepted a high five in the middle of a match. 4 stickies on the sentry and 1 crit stick below our feet was all the enemy needed to dispatch of our defense.
We ended up loosing that game.
Seriously though, this WP is dangerously close to the Pyro class from Team Fortress 2. He wears goggles which show the world full of rainbows and unicorns when in reality he is burning every one alive.
If OP didn't get the idea for this WP from this game, Il bite my ghostly Gibus. | I hadn’t long been deployed, but already I began to find myself lost in amongst my comrades. They followed instructions to the letter, asked no questions, made no comments about the day’s work. We met every morning; listen to the same brief, from the same man and being handed the same suit and the same goggles. I had joined the army after a long stint in the police force, wanted to do my bit and serve my country, but I had no idea why I was a gardener with a gun. I looked down at the googles which seemed to be the most advance bit of tech on the base, the lightweight material which made them was a feint shade of orange and odd thin tendrils of lights occasionally pulsed across each lens. I looked up at my platoon, watched them place their goggles on obediently, like drones just ready to work. With a sigh I followed suit – this is not what signed up for.
The plants we were clearing out smelt fowl, so I assume that’s why we had been asked to do it. The mountainous regions here were full of odd wildlife, and these plants were no different. There was another team attached to us (pest control), who made sure none of the animals interfered with our work. I don’t blame the critters, we were getting rid of their habitat and spraying dangerous chemicals everywhere – it couldn’t have been a nice place to live.
Today a plant took my fancy. I squinted through the goggles to take a better look; the tint caused a loss of clarity which didn’t really both us day to day as our spray guns had a pretty wide range. The smell as I leant forward was nothing like I had experienced before; an acidic barbeque is the only appropriate way to describe it. I felt my googles slip on my nose, but was too slow in bringing my shoulder up to bump them back. They clattered to the floor, which was a noise my ears weren’t really anticipating due to the fact we were in a lush rainforest. Then again…what my eyes saw though the smoke was also not what I was anticipating. I stood there, dumbfounded, as my brain tried to make sense of what was happening.
There was no forest. No plants. No animals. Only bodies, twisted around each other like the roots of an old tree. Some still writhed. Others lay completely still. Each one decorated with an array of bullet wounds. I looked down to my hands- a flamethrower. Our respirators must have kept all the smoke away from our lungs because the air was heavy with it. I looked back at my comrades, not one had noticed my stopping… they continued in their perfect precision to torch the victims of war. The scene was oddly poetic to me. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around, one of the pest control guys was pointing at my goggles. I shifted my weight and brought my flamethrower up, a crooked smile on my lips. “Now this is what I signed up for.”
| 2017-06-20T04:00:15 | 2017-06-20T03:02:24 | 24 | 17 |
[WP] "Humans are average in everything basically and you are saying that we shouldn't invade them. You are kidding, right?" The alien king looked at the prophet. "They might not have shown anything special thus far, until you decide to go and wage war." | The prophet's eyes narrowed at the question. "I do not make jokes... Except for knock knock jokes and now is not the time." Waving his hand as if to brush away the idle thoughts in front of him. The prophet points to this would be commander as he now views him, for being unable to see the foolishness of the question. He lifts back his hood just enough to make eye contact, pointing a single wrinkled digit and ignoring the massive insult it carries; the prophet speaks:
> You seek war with the humans because you seek the rewards associated with victory. Medals, accolades, improved social status... But there can be no victory in war with the humans. Yes, you will overpower them in military might. Yes, you will think you have won by every measure you know of. You will be wrong in your assessment. In human eyes the fight is never over. You can herd them like livestock for a thousand years and they will still know freedom, even if never having experienced it. They yearn for it. They strive for it. They move towards it without any conscious effort and they know when it is lacking. But that is assuming you can get far enough to herd them. Before that you will have to stand against a sense of self preservation so honed by millennia of evolution; that one human; naked except for a rock, would take on your best when backed into a corner. They are as relentless as a sun's gravity in their fight for survival.
The prophet's head lowers as if his speech drained him and the commander stands as if pondering the words. After what the commander deemed a reasonable amount of time he speaks "I take your advice with all the weight and respect it deserves. But I believe I will take the humans. Can you offer any information beyond warnings as how to accomplish it?" Scratching under his eye the prophet simply responds "Knock, knock..." | "Why would that be the case? Have we not conquered every single world we passed by? Tell me about any species that encountered us and hasn't been enslaved yet? What do these "humans" have? Stronger warriors? Or advanced weapons?"
"We've never been stopped by either of them before. No, my king, the counsil's concern is about something else"
The king seemed to be more confused.
"Then tell me, if our forces are far more superior, why invading them would not be possible?"
"Not only impossible, but I believe it's also unwise." "We've kept an eye on this species ever since our empire started to reach out the universe to find new resources. They're inhabitants to the most prosper planet in the Galaxy, the amount of resouces it holds can only be compared with its very own protection, also what kept us from harvesting it millions of year ago"
"Protection? What kind of shield that we couldn't surpass?"
"The one we cannot see. It appears that they possessed something called 'the soul' within their body. When their physical forms died, the soul traveled to a parralel world. It's invisible to humans, though to intruders like us, it's considerable force"
"So it's not the human that we need to worry about, it's all about this world of souls? How dangerous is it?"
"Extremely. This world exists under the form of antimatter, so technically even the most minor impact with any matter will result in a poweful explosion. That's what happened to our first attemp of invasion. Our pioneer ships were said to disapper after a second of atmospheric entry, and the rest of the fleets had to run with their tail between their legs. It's the most shameful defeat of our race that the event was prohibited from being told until today."
"Noticeable. The world, the 'Earth', right? Why would it not be destroyed as well? Is it not made of matters?
"It is. But in the center of the world there is an ancient artifact hold the power to separate two worlds, making the world of souls invisible under any desired eyes. But if anyone comes close enough, they will have a second to witness this world, before the contact immediately destroy them. That's why humans think they're the only species in the universe. Their technologies are not advanced enough to break through the cover of others world, but their own shield makes it impossible for anyone to come. Infact many have tried to reach them, both friendly and hostile, but none have returned."
"Then what should we do? Sit and watch?"
"We've agreed that it's the best solution by now. Their shield is almost untouchable now. The first time we came, there're only trillion of them. Now it'd have been a billion time of that number. They have very short life expectancy, and unfortunately that's only strengthen the shield every passing second. But years of observation have led us to a conclusion that they're destroying their matter world. Soon it will affect the core of the planet and once its protection wears off, two world will collide and the whole system will disappear in a blink of an eye"
"And what would that be of any good to us?"
"The massive explosion will release intergalatic energy at its purest form. We'll have enough power to stay active for another 10 thoundsands years, and more than enough to overpower any enemy that dare to stand against us. We will also have new spaces to plant, and if we're lucky we can collect enough information about this world of souls in case we encounter another one."
"Then let it be. We shall wait. | 2017-12-24T05:03:42 | 2017-12-24T03:55:54 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] You die and find yourself at the gates of heaven, but they're rusted and hanging open. The entire place seems abandoned. | "Pearly gates, my ass," I muttered to myself as I took in the ungodly sight before me.
To say I was not in the best mood was an understatement. Mere minutes before, my soul left my mortal body after the vending machine on my floor toppled over and made a human yoga mat out of me. I always wondered how I would go throughout my life, but never in my wildest dream could I have hypothesized what actually came to pass. All over a bag of Rold Gold Original Tiny Twist Pretzels.
The next thing I knew I was standing before Heaven's corroded gates. Although chagrined, I reasoned there was no possible way to turn back now and made my way past the entrance.
What lie beyond were acres of dead, patchy grass extending into a horizon cluttered with leafless wisteria trees. A bleak, sepia-toned rainbow decorated the sky. I noticed what looked like a flyer by my foot. Fueled by disbelief and intrigue, I stooped to the ground to pick it up. My eyes adjusted to read the following:
"GREETINGS, FELLOW ANGELS
WE REGRET TO INFORM THEE YOND HEAVEN HAST RELOCATED.
HERE IS OUR NEW ADDRESS:
2911 JEREMIAH WAY
BUFORD, WY
P.O. BOX 18313
WE ARE TERRIBLY SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE."
Of all the godawful ways to begin my journey in the afterlife. | I look around, and I can't see any signs of anything being used or even touched for years. I look through the gate, and slowly it reveals the true situation. The stairs up to heaven are broken, seemingly by an explosion. I make my way up to the top carefully, and I see a sight that I couldn't believe. Everything was where it was meant to be. Doors were still half-open, anything falling to the ground were suspended in the air, and the buildings were filled with the things that seemingly have always been there. The only problem is that there are no people. Out of curiosity, I go into what I assume is a house, and I see a well-used journal sitting on a table. I run over to it and start reading.
9-20-11
"A new guy came in, one that I remember from my life on Earth. His name,was something like Tim Ragoney, as far as I can remember. He was the kind of guy that didn't care about how others would react, or what would happen to them. He had a suspiciously large bag of items that he wanted to bring from his life on Earth, too, but I shouldn't spy on others."
9-22-11
"Tim has been acting strange. He hasn't left his house since the first day, and I'm hearing strange ticks and beeps coming from it. I already told the higher-ups, but they are ignoring me for some reason."
9-25-11
"Tim----------mistake------wrong------"
That's all I can make out of this entry, because the writing was seemingly rushed and is too sloppy to read.
9-30-11
"After the incident, there have been rumors going around that all of us in heaven will be sent to hell in case any of us were meant to go there instead. The rumors also say that we won't have time to take anything, so that won't be something that they would do for no reason. I personally don't think they would do it, because it would be way too serious and punishing of a change for those of us who haven't done anything wrong."
10-1-11
"They did it. We're all going to hell by tomorrow. Goodbye."
After some more digging, you find a newspaper. The headline reads "TERRORIST BOMBER ACCIDENTALLY LET INTO HEAVEN, SAYS OFFICIAL" in big, bold letters. The article goes on to say that what should be done is still being debated.
After looking around and finding nothing else of interest, I leave the house and look elsewhere. I find another newspaper, with the headline "HEAVEN BEING EVACUATED INDEFINITELY, BELONGINGS NOT ALLOWED" on the front. The article says that it will probably take a few years until it is safe to go back, and once new members aer let in old ones,will be taken back, too. Suddenly, you see two angels fillibg in the spaces that are broken in between the stairs. You also notice some movement in the distance, walking towards heaven's gate. You suddenly realize that they are people, and that things seemed ti have started moving again. You start to feel a rumbling from all of the approaching people. They have been waiting to come here for a long time | 2018-09-06T20:16:08 | 2018-09-06T20:11:56 | 147 | 22 |
[WP] You accidentally kill a person. Instantly, you absorb all of their memories, feelings and talents. It feels quite addicting to you. | The first time was an accident. I'm ashamed to admit I fled the scene after I hit him. Hosed the car down in the driveway, tried to pretend it never happened.
I chalked up the dreams to guilt. Memories of another life. Memories of a kind and better man than I. Memories I thought I had imagined for the man I had hit... until I read his obituary that is. Turns out, all those memories were actually real. Memories from a loving father, devoted husband, and passionate scientist.
The memories became more meaningful than my own, perhaps because the life of the man I had killed was better lived than mine. That was when I realized I wanted to take more lives, and gain experiences from every walk of life.
My first and only victim was the week after. She backed up the alley as I closed in. I could hear the fear in her voice as she called for help.
"Not this way." I somehow knew the voice in my head was not my own; it was the voice of the man I had killed.
Now I am in Oregon. Under their death with dignity act, I help those who have lived a full life and are in terminal stages of illness. I am the one who takes then off life support.
Those who believe in my ability often request me specifically. In a way they live on through me. In return, I try to share their wisdom with the world.
**Edit:** Added alley scene | I've forgotten who I was.
The first few times there was still an original 'me' in there somewhere, a coherent narrative buried under all the rubble. I'd dig it up occasionally and despair at how far I'd drifted from my original identity.
Seems kind of foolish, now that I think of it. Why grieve something that might not have existed to start with?
I'm at some hole-in-the-wall coffeehouse right now. It's one of my favorites, I'd been going to the same place for the last 50 years, every Sunday morning like clockwork. It would be a shame to break that habit now, so here I was.
The barista asks my name and a hundred answers come to mind at once. I smile at her - that's polite, isn't it? No, maybe creepy, she's much too young for me - and fish for my wallet, digging out the driver's license and carefully reading the printed name.
*Mark Velasquez*
It's one of my licenses, I know that much, but I'm not sure if the picture on it matches my face. I'll have to check later. The barista gives me a strange look - was it because I smiled? - but nods and moves on to the next customer.
Not following? Neither am I.
As I wait for my order I survey the seated guests, trying to guess which one might give me the best high.
My gaze lingers on a middle-aged man in the corner first, a wave of nostalgia washing over me. He looks like my late husband, all the way down to the hilariously out-of-fashion soul patch. The young woman with him, though - she reminds me of my most recent ex-girlfriend, a pang of anger and loss sweeping the nostalgia away.
Not them, then.
A few minutes' surveying later and I found someone: a lonely-looking young man sitting in a booth by himself. Almost reminds me of one of my sons, though I couldn't remember which one at the moment.
I grab my coffee from the counter - it was *Sandra*, right? - and take a position across the shop from him. Might as well act like a customer until he leaves, then follow him out. It's worked in the past.
A sip of coffee later and I nearly choke on the taste, bitter and strong.
Right, I hate coffee. Always have. Why was I here again? Seems like a bad time to go around trying new coffee shops.
Across the shop, I can see my victim finish his coffee and stand, making his way to the door. As soon as he exits I do the same.
I toss the unfinished coffee into the trash as I pass and take a second to gauge my appearance in the window. Long, straight black hair framing a round face, makeup expertly applied to capture a 'natural' look. The woman staring back at me couldn't be more than 25.
The original me. I lean in, trying to prompt some spark of familiarity. Nothing. The face of a stranger stares back at me, and I can't bring myself to really care.
I fix the stranger-in-the-window's hair and then make my way into the Sunday morning city.
I have another victim to catch. | 2018-09-23T06:39:07 | 2018-09-23T05:33:19 | 176 | 72 |
[WP] You're a side character in a story. By chance you become aware of this fact and you try everything to be more relevant to the story, even going as far as to intefere in the protagonist's life. |
People called me crazy when I said I could see words in the sky. We had dragons, mythical creatures and magic but words in the sky didn’t exist. These words predicted the future. They always mentioned this one person in my village. He was a human blacksmith destined to be a great warrior apparently. His name was John Alexander. His journey started when his finance Frey got sick with a fatal magic disease. I tried warning him when I saw the description of the sickness in the sky, but he ignored me.
Now he’s going off to some foreign land to search for a cure. I managed to convince him to take me with him, Frey was my friend. Whenever we fought foes, I could always tell him how our enemies attacked, but does he listen? What do you think?
We were in a cave trying to reach the Humlex forest of the Northern elves.
“For god’s sake, left!” I cried. John rolled to the right and screeched when a small blade impaled his back.
“I can do this myself!” John said as he yanked the knife out. His opponent, an oversized lizardman hissed and raised its head.
“He can breathe fire and he has super strength,” I called when I read its description. “Roll to the left.” Once again John ignored my words and thrust forward with his sword. John flew over my head when the lizard smacked him with its arm.
“You are not helping,” John said as he got up from the floor, he ran back at the lizard. I looked up at the sky to read the next words. ‘with a bright light, the lizard slinked back to lick its wounds,’ it wrote.
“Its weakness is bright lights,” I called out. I rummaged through my bag and pulled out a light crystal. “Here I’ve got one!”
“Stay out of this!” John yelled as he slashed at the lizard’s tail. The lizard roared and sprayed fire from his mouth. John shielded himself with his enchanted shield. The fire stopped when I approached the lizard with the crystal. Screeching it shielded its eyes. It turned around and ran deeper into the cave. I lowered the crystal and went over to John.
“I’ve got a few healing potions.”
“I’m fine.”
“If you bleed out, Frey is doomed.”
“I said I’m fine. The elves can’t be that far.”
“Why do you never want help?”
“Because I don’t need it. Come on Frey needs that medicine.” I stored the light crystal back in my bag and followed him as we went further down the cave.
“Can I at least look at your wounds?” I asked as I looked up at the glowing words on the walls of the cave. John was in more pain than he showed.
“No.”
“Quit being stubborn. I don’t want Frey to be sad when I get back.”
“I said I’m fine!” Written in red ink was ‘John collapses after 5 more steps, the poison has become too much for him’.
“If you care about Frey you will let me do this. You’ve been poisoned.” I grabbed his arm, but he shook me off and kept walking. “Damn it, would you listen to me?!”
“Guilt tripping me won’t wo-” I shrieked as John face planted. I stilled as the words on the walls dissolved and became a jumbled mess. What now? After several minutes of illegible writing, clear words took place on the wall with my name. I was now the main character. | I was sipping my tea as usual at my regular pub, then my phone rings. It's my mate Chris again.
"Hey Chris, you up to your shenanigans again? Who are we going to rip off this time?"
Chris always is up to something. And he always seems to have perfect hair. No matter what happens to him. As if he's some kind of action movie star or something. And somehow he gets the prettiest birds! Always redheads! How does he do it??
"Oi, Rob, let's meet up at the usual spot by the lake, we need to boost a lorry, right quick!"
I swear he sounds a bit different than last time. It's kind of like him, but something sounds... off... anyway, let's go, this will be fun.
I park my Ford by the lake and leave the lights on and light up a ciggy as I wait. Chris' car pulls up in a few, flashes the lights with the usual pattern, and I turn my ignition off to show it's safe for him to get out. A tall, blond chap walks out of the car. This is not how Chris looks. This guy dresses the same as Chris, even has a mole at the same spot on the forehead, but his face is not Chris'.
"Chris? That you?"
"Yeah mate, it's been years innit, what you been up to buddy?", says "Chris".
"Same old, same old, you know."
Chris turns around for a second then turns back, then suddenly exclaims "Alright no time for chit chat, let's roll!", wearing a different tie than a minute ago. I swear it was different. I think I'm going bonkers.
We do the usual drill, do a few mistakes, snatch the lorry, get chased by the fuzz, ditch them at the last minute, somehow Chris picks up another hot redhead and we end the day with a high five as usual. I get my share of exactly £300k. He gets £700k. £1m. Such a round number. Who would keep EXACTLY £1m in a lorry? It's as if I'm in a B film or something.
Chris: "All right that was fun bruv, let's do that again some time eh?"
I respond awkwardly, "Yeah mate, let's... do that". When did Chris move to South London?? OK, I have had enough of this weirdness, I'm going to follow him to find out what he's up to.
Chris turns around, gets in his car and turns the corner by the pub. I quickly get into mine and get it going after him too. But he's gone already. Vanished. Poof. Nowhere to be seen.
\----- Years pass. -----
Chris has not called me in years! He would call me every year around this time, I wonder what happened to him... I keep hanging out at the regular pub doing the same things but nothing ever happens any more. Today I decided to take another route through the town instead of the usual, to have a bit of variety.
As I walk down the new road, I see a familiar face. It's Chris! Not the one with the lorry, the Chris I knew from before that. Looks the same. Different clothing though. And no mole on the forehead. He's wearing ... a jumper? I never saw him wearing jumpers before. And he's in a convertible. Talking to a really attractive brunette lady in the passenger seat. A brunette? No way. I HAVE TO go and say hi.
I walk up to them and listen their conversation for a bit. They are speaking like love birds from a cheesy book or something. They keep going on and on without stopping.
I can't take this any more, and interrupt their conversation. "Chris? It's me, Rob!" Old Chris looks at me as if he never saw me before. "Sorry mate, I'm not Chris, you must be mistaking me for someone.", says Chris. It's definitely him. It's his voice. It's his accent. It's his style of speaking. I'm getting annoyed now. I stare at him for a second to be absolutely sure and this gets me angrier.
"Mate, are you taking a piss? I know it's you."
"Sorry again, as I said, I'm not Chris."
"Do you know a Chris?"
"Nope."
"Do you have any brothers?"
"No."
"Come on man, don't you recognize me?"
Chris stops our chat saying "Sorry, I'm in a middle of the conversation here.", and turns away. They repeat the same exact conversation I overheard from before. I interrupt again: "What the bonkers is all this? You both said the same exact words as before!" Chris and the brunette both sigh, and restart their conversation from the beginning.
I walk away and the conversation keeps repeating in my head. I notice I'm shaking slightly. Sweat drops on my forehead. I'm going mental. I'm really going mental.
I won't lose them this time. I sneak up to the car from behind and get into the trunk, and leave a gap so I can see where we're going.
After speaking for what feels like hours, and I swear they said the same exact sentences in twenty different ways, they finally start the car and go up to the next place.
Bloody hell, they are pulling up to the Lover's Lane. | 2019-01-06T09:55:05 | 2019-01-06T09:42:33 | 253 | 66 |
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