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[WP] Traditionally when a royal couple give birth to a cursed baby the infant is locked away in a dungeon to grow into a murderous beast. You however order that your child instead be taken to the royal nursery and raised properly as your heir. | The beast towered over the ambassador. His fangs could shred steel. His claws can cleave raw stone. And that's if he didn't decide to just rip things apart with his raw, brute strength.
Understandably, the ambassador was nervous.
In all his years, he had never dealt with anyone like this. Fear was not the proper way to describe what he was feeling. Fear is for the lambs awaiting slaughter at the hands of their masters. This was the lambs wondering where the wolf was, ready to rip them apart before devouring them.
Pure dread.
And it was a credit to the ambassador that he barely broke a sweat. He was to seek recompense for the damage this kingdom's mining had done to farmland in his country. An accident to be sure, but valuable food was lost and it was too late to plant again before harvest.
The beast brought its head down. "This... is a travesty. Our kingdoms have been too long allied to simply let this slide. I thank you for bringing this to my attention. MINISTER!" The voice boomed like thunder from hell. "Please discuss the details of the damage and how we can best make them whole. Also, I want to know why that mining operation was able to do that! Were it not for our neighbor's character, a lesser leader may have seen it as an act of war. See to it their operation is stopped until we can take steps to prevent this again."
The ambassador bowed. He knew the beast's... the *king*'s father would have been as fair handed. "Thank you, your highness. And I look forward to seeing you at dinner this evening."
The beast nodded and turned towards a clerk. "What business is next?"
The clerk said, "None, sire. Today was a light day. Indeed, the ambassador's visit was a rather last minute addition."
"Very well. Then let us close the court for the day." The beast stood and, in practiced concert, his guards and staff went to their other duties.
He walked over to a much smaller woman. Older with a tiara on her head. She smiled at him and said, "You were hoping he brought Vivi with him, weren't you?"
"Vi... \**ahem\** Lady Villamead has her own duties to attend to as princess. A matter such as this is appropriate for an ambassador. If she were here, it would be because of an official function or dire emergencies."
"You know, you can just say to me you're disappointed." The former queen walked to the garden. "No secret, when I was pregnant with you, we had planned to marry you off to their first daughter. A whole consolidation of power. But then your brother passed from the illness, rest his spirit."
"I know, then I was to be heir to the throne."
"Oh, don't be too upset. You know she cares for you. She may end up visiting you sooner than you think." The beast raised an eyebrow. "Call it a woman's intuition."
"You and father always enjoyed testing me."
"Well yes! The others wanted to lock you away, just because of the curse. But your father wouldn't have it! He needed someone dedicated to the throne. You were treated like any child, any *royal* child. Education, training, even the dips into some of the arcane just so you can understand what the court mage is asking for so you can tell him no properly."
"Mother, I do not question my past. I live with it. You need not recount. With father's passing, I understood full well what to expect and I can only hope to live up to his expectations."
"And what about Vivi's?"
The beast stopped. "It would be nice. She never treated me differently. I still remember the first time we met, she shouted--"
"DOGGY!" King Bremin turned around. Any other person, he'd have been furious. But he knew that soft, strong voice that came *dashing at him and NOT AGAIN!* Vivi grabbed him in a hug and, seemingly defying nature and all that was concerned, lifted him off his feet.
It's good to be the king. | **The Heir**
The teacher looked around her classroom. Young sons and daughters of noblemen crowded together close to the right wall and its open windows, painting on small canvases leaning on desktop easels. They were copying a brightly lit photograph of the royal gardens. She noted the time and exhaled. *We have nearly reached another midday together*, she thought. *Most of us, anyway.*
The janitor finished mopping around a pile of smashed furniture on the left side of the room, still splattered with spilled red and yellow. He tipped his hat and left as quickly as possible, tracing a wide berth around the heavy metal cage in the center of the left wall, nestled between bookcases. Something sat inside, more than twice the size of her other wards, dressed in purple and gray. The small silver crown inlaid with a single large oval emerald swept blue hair back from his forehead, accentuating the red spiraling horns that curved down around his ears. His facial hair was stained. He was running a large dry paint brush over the thick fur on his left forearm and around the bony spikes closer to his elbow. He made a cooing sound in a soft baritone. The rest of the class fidgeted.
The teacher adjusted her cornette and stood, walking past her students. Two girls in the back of the room were painting rainbows and butterflies on each other’s faces. “Margaret and Elizabeth! We are all saving that activity for the afternoon.” The girls giggled. “All of us.” They fell silent and resumed work on their canvases. The teacher nodded at the boy sitting by himself in the front of the class, working with a small brush and silently weeping. “Very nice progress on your hedge highlights today, Louis.”
The boy sighed. “Charles would have thought so, too.”
“Yes, child. Your brother shared your eye for the small details. Are you not excited that your cousin James is joining us this afternoon?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The creature in the cage growled. Elizabeth squeaked and knocked over her easel, spilling a cup of murky water and three brushes onto the floor. Louis broke his brush in his fist. The boy winced, pulling splinters from his palm.
The teacher pulled a small flute from her robes and spun around to face the cage, but he was cooing softly to himself again. “Louis, you may see the nurses, but join us in the dining hall directly after.”
“Okay. Thank you, ma’am.” Louis pulled on the heavy classroom door and sprinted away.
The teacher put her flute away. “Everyone, finish what you are working on for now. We are nearly ready to gather for lunch. Elizabeth, dear, I will clean that up.”
A blast of trumpeting fanfare echoed down the hallway and through the open classroom door. The students stood up and mirrored the pose that their teacher assumed, bowing their heads, clasping hands together in front. A tall, very thin man walked through the door, wearing a light tweed suit. A white series of boxes arranged in an uneven set of columns were etched on the black obsidian pin that held a deep blood red cape around his shoulders. He looked at the cage. “Again?” He counted heads. “Tell me not both, sister. The Duchess of Bamfordshire will likely die from the shock.”
The teacher shook her head. “No, His Majesty’s Schedule Master, sir. I must sadly report that young Charles made a joke at the expense of His Grace after morning tea. I intervened before the tantrum escalated further, sir. A member of the Crown Prince’s Guard has already been dispatched to retrieve our new student. Young Louis briefly is with the nurses, sir.”
“May the prestige and renown of your tutelage provide comfort to the family.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He turned back to the cage. “Your grace, your father is waiting in the Headmaster’s office to join you for your meal. It is best to not keep him waiting any further.”
The creature dropped his paintbrush and growled. The teacher tutted and said, “Listen to the Schedule Master, Frederick.”
Frederick growled again, lifted a book upside down, and ripped it in half. He pounded twice on the cage door, heavy padlock bouncing in return. His third shove broke both hinges. Frederick batted the door aside to hang askew on its padlock and bellowed into the classroom. Children screamed as they ducked behind chairs. Margaret smeared her rainbow into Elizabeth’s sleeves as they cowered in the back corner.
High pitched music cut off Frederick’s roar. He stepped forward calmly, whistling in response. The teacher and Schedule Master both lowered their flutes. She said, “That’s a good lad, Your Grace. Your father is waiting for lunch.”
“Hungry,” he growled and danced out the door, carrying the tune down the hall.
The Schedule Master said, “Perhaps I should broach the subject of private tutoring again, sister.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Would you take the role, if offered to you?”
She reached for the symbol hanging from a simple leather cord around her neck. The royal bloodline’s curse had not manifested for several generations, but everyone knew the rumors of prior inhabitants in the lowest dungeons, walled off in recent years, and their realm’s strange history. Surely this approach was all more – humane? *Is that the word?* she thought.
Dishes crashed to the floor in the hallway. A woman screamed. One of the King’s Guard stumbled into the classroom, face bloodied, his armor punctured through in several places. He collapsed to the floor, panting, and sputtered. “His Majesty has been attacked and killed, sir.”
Poor young Edward stood up first, looked down, and saw that he had soiled himself. He poured his paint rinse water over his head.
The Schedule Master frowned at the teacher. “Long live the King.” | 2022-09-01T12:53:25 | 2022-09-01T10:17:09 | 158 | 38 |
[WP]As you were tending to the sheep, the king rushes to you from out of nowhere, and slams his crown onto your head. "You're king now!" Within the view of his royal guards that were chasing him. | Jurgen the shepherd spun around as the royal guard drew near. "OH NO YOU DON'T! THAT IS -NOT- HOW THIS WORKS!" one of the guards shouted at the retreating king.
"Wait, what's going on?"
"Sonofabitch *forgot* about our pay, says it's not in the budget for this quarter!"
"Well, you heard him. King's word is law, and the king says I'm king now. So that IS how this works."
"Are you trying to start trouble?" one of the guards asked, hand on the pommel of his sword.
"No, not at all! Trying to fix it, in fact! As your new king, I could see about shuffling around the budget to get this resolved. Maybe we could sell some licenses to hunt in the Royal Woods or something. Take me to the Chancellor of the Exchequer, we'll see what we can get squared away."
Thus began the 47-year reign of Jurgen the Not Excessively Greedy, the first king in 200 years to die peacefully in his sleep of natural causes. | "Wait, what," I spun as the man shot down the hill behind me, towards the forest.
"I'll take that," A suit of armor huffed as it ripped the crown from my head. Whoever was inside didn't lose a step in his pursuit.
"This didn't happen," another gasped as it rushed past.
"Back to the sheep."
"Nice robe."
"This is all a dream."
I counted twelve knights in all as they sprinted past me, chasing after the man who'd first put the crown on my head.
"What the fuck..." I muttered, after about half a minute.
___________________________________________________
As the sun began to set an hour later, my curiosity got the better of me. I herded my sheep into their pen and began my descent down the hill into the forest, following the deep tracks left by the men in armor. It didn't take long before I found their mistake.
While my family bred sheep for five generations, we only ate them in times of famine. We preferred to make our money selling the wool, and hunting our food in the wild. And, per tradition, I accompanied my father on every hunt after my tenth birthday.
The man they pursued left deep tracks and broken brush in a path that seemed to be headed north, towards the nearby Faringin River. But this was a rouse. Only a hint of tiptoed steps and rustled moss showed his actual path was to the west, likely the town of Gurut.
A full moon illuminated the treetops when I finally found him.
"And here I thought you'd be in too much a hurry to make camp on the first night." I mused, walking into the fire lit clearing.
The man shot up, sword drawn in an instant, and pointed in my direction.
He said nothing.
"Hey, hey," I held out my palms, trying to calm him. "No need to be hostile."
The man narrowed his eyes and assumed a fighting stance.
"You're King Bayrin, right," I smiled, inching closer. "I just...I don't know what's going on, but I want to help. I admire you so much. Your policies have caused a boon throughout all of the rural areas of the kingdom. I can't tell you how grateful I am."
His eyes softened a bit, but still contained an edge. "Well, thank you, my loyal subject. May I ask your name?"
"Jerrod, Your Majesty."
"Well Jerrod," he growled, sword at the ready. "Would you be willing to lay down your life for me? And the plan I am currently enacting?"
"Yes, of course Your Majesty," I nodded. "I'd be happy to do whatever it takes to help the Viritian Empire."
"Then smile."
I didn't know a human could move so fast. As I watched His Majesty retract his sword the pain and panic became real. Blood poured from my stomach. My legs became weak.
King Bayrin sheathed his sword. And walked away. | 2022-10-04T03:42:55 | 2022-10-04T00:35:22 | 503 | 111 |
[WP] A little girl dies and is accidentally sent to Hell to where the Demons don't know what to do with her.
Edit 1. Holy crap did this get a response 0_0
Edit 2. Jesus Puppy Christ is this getting attention. | Sleeping soul so innocent
awakens in a blaze. Knowing not
where she is. She wanders on for
days. Beasts with horns and pointed tails
with fire in their eyes, spent the day wondering
the cause of her demise. She was too young,
too filled with life. How does one so very
small have such a shortened time. "We can't let her stay, she
wont last long." "She has no where else to go."
"We can build her a ladder to a land as white as snow."
The damned worked hard and in no time the ladder was erected, the girl
climbed up to find that her fate had been corrected. | Samantha was five when the drunk driver rammed his truck off the road and smashed her away from her mother. She still wore the same clothes now, a bright colored dress and fancy looking, but functional shoes. She was playing with some rocks on the Precipice of Inifinite Pain above the Lake of Fire. Two demons each kept one eye on her as they spoke.
"And you're sure there's no record of her? Little Samantha, drunk driver, crushed to death." Spoke the larger one, horns blackened by fire curling back in a twisted pattern.
"Yeah, of course, I have checked several times. She didn't live long enough to deserve the fire anyway. I've already sent a message to Him, I'm sure he'll know what to do." This one was smaller and only bore the most vague resemblance to a human figure. Arms and legs so thin as to be almost comical were they not also featuring many more joints than a human had.
"Well" Spoke the big horned one, stalling for time, "Do you... Ah! The succubuses might like her, don't you think?"
Many joints scowled, "Maybe, but I am a gatekeeper. She has no designation, she still resides within my sphere."
"Oh, give it a rest, she doesn't reside in any sphere with us. We'll just -" Big horn cut off and began a sprint on the realization that he couldn't see Samantha. Demons can move fast when they want, and as fast as big horn was, many joints was faster. They reached the edge and looked over, screaming in unison, "SAMANTHA!"
The little girl in the pretty dress hopped out from behind the rock formation she'd been playing with, "Boo!"
Both the demons started, turned, and looked at each other, a moment of agreement passing between them.
"Fine," said many joints, "Take her to the succubi." He emphasized the ending of succubi.
"Big horns sighed, "The pluralization isn't so well set you, bah!" He turned to the little girl, still smiling at them, "I'm going to take you to a bunch of ladies, would you like some ice cream on the way?"
The little girl nodded.
Big horns stood up and extended a hand large enough to encircle her head, she took it and skipped alongside him as they headed off. | 2013-11-26T16:25:34 | 2013-11-26T13:08:15 | 58 | 27 |
[WP] Make a story so awkward even the narrator start's getting uncomfortable.
. _ .
Starts*
Auto correct is my mortal enemy. | FADE IN
EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT
In the heart of the big city, a modest dwelling lies among
the shadows of the major overpass.
CUT TO:
INT. MESSY BEDROOM - NIGHT
ANTHONY and HACHI barge into the room, wrestling each
others bodies.
Hachi, an elk pulls his shirt over his antlers.
NARRATOR
Hold the phone, is this is a fantasy
show? My agent never mentioned that.
Anthony, a cougar, in turn pulls a condom from his pocket.
ANTHONY
You know, you're probably the biggest
game I've caught in a long time...
NARRATOR
Oh my god.
HACHI
Oh, so you've caught me now? You
haven't downed this bull yet.
NARRATOR
I am going to kill my agent.
| “I can’t wait to finally meet your parents.” Brians tells Chelsea on the drive over to her family’s house. Chelsea has been hesitant to bring me over to meet her family. I don’t know why. She talks about them a lot. They’re both rather successful. Unfortunately, Chelsea knew something about her parents she didn’t want to share with Brian.
“Yeah. It’ll be great.” She says, looking out the window and mentally planning reasons to excuse herself from the meeting.
They pull into the driveway and Chelsea walks up to the door in much the same way a person would approach the gallows. She opens the door and walks in. “They’re upstairs. They texted me to tell us to have a seat. They’ll be down at the minute.” She stares at the floor and when she arrives at the table she stares at her plate. Brian is still excited to meet them. He can tell Chelsea is nervous so he…(sigh), plants a kiss on her forehead and…. wraps an arm around her. He regrets his decision to display affection as soon as the parents come down the stairs.
“Uncle Robert?” I ask. I haven’t seen him since I was four. They only recently moved back to the area. Brian was supposed to be meeting his…cousin….for dinner….over the holidays. They had not met before, or skyped, or texted, or seen each other’s facebook accounts. OR ANYTHING ELSE THAT WOULD HAVE PREVENTED THIS SITUATION WHICH ANY NORMAL ADULT WOULD DO. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, anyway, the parents froze a bit on the stairs when they saw Brian with his arm around…his cousin. Brian had decided to play it cool and pretend nothing was happening. He decided to ruffle Chelsea’s hair affectionately to show that it wasn’t a big deal.
“Should we play this off?” The uncle asks.
“For now.” The aunt responds.
“So Chelsea, nephew Brian, how are you?” The uncle asks, trying to acknowledge the situation without stressing the relationship too much.
“Related.” Brians pipes up, without any tact or hesitation. “But not too closely for the legal purposes of this state. Am I right Chelsea?” Chelsea had buried her head on the table and was pretending she doesn’t exist. A position for which I envy her greatly as I am not getting paid enough for this.
“Ah, yes, first cousins right?” The aunt asks.
“Yup, and since neither of us bear any genetic markers for recessive lethal trait we don’t have to worry about the consequences of mating!” Forget it! I’m done! I see where this is going and refuse to be a part of this anymore! This was supposed to be a classical retelling of Cinderalla!
Sidenote: Credit to weird al and the big bang theory for the inspiration. Also there’s an app for this in Iceland. | 2014-12-23T10:57:32 | 2014-12-23T08:43:21 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] On their first birthday, everyone on Earth is given a wristband that will glow brighter depending on how far away they are from their soulmate. But, yours has never even turned on. | For years I wondered why my wristband didn't glow.
When I was young, I didn't really understand it. Some kids thought it was cool, different you know.
When I got older, I understood what it meant.
"Maybe you haven't got a soul mate?"
That was a depressing idea. Can't be that at all, can it? I traveled the world trying to see if the band would glow, maybe the distance was weird.
I was traveling though China, when a man noticed my wristband.
"Hmmm, you born in 1990?"
"Err, yes I was. How did you know that?"
"Your wrist band. Its not glowing"
"Yeah .. but how did you know when I was born?"
"Can I see it a second?"
"Sure, I guess"
With a quick flick he removed my wrist band. I didn't even know they came off! He flipped it over.
"Ah, the 7856 models"
Reaching into his bag he removed a small screw driver, popped off the back of my wristband, and removed a plastic strip"
"Should be fine now. People where sloppy on the 7856 models"
He replaced my wristband, now ablaze with light.
I have never sworn that aggressively or loudly. | So far down.
That was my first thought, standing at the edge of the roof of a twenty story building. It was so far down. The wind began to blow again, sending my dress into spirals and almost making me lose my footing on the small ledge. Was I really going through with this? I mean, did I really want to end it all?
I didn't really have a bad life. I had a stable job that paid okay, a place to live that was close to the city, friends. But there was one thing that was missing, and I knew it always would be.
I eyed the bracelet that sat idle on my right wrist. The same bracelet that everyone was given when they are born, one that glowed for everyone else in the world, but never glowed for me. What was wrong with me? My friends said don't give up, that one day it would come alive with light. That one day I would be in the right place at the right time. However, with thirty two years behind me, not an inkling of light had ever escaped it's metallic band.
"Stop! Please don't jump!"
I whirled around at the sudden voice behind me. A man was standing at the entrance to the rooftop, coming steadily closer, talking to me above the gusts of wind that swirled around him and kicked up his brown hair, misplacing it in his face. Again, he repeated himself, "Please don't jump."
I stared at him for a minute, captivated by the sight of him. Then, I came to my senses, shook my head, "You don't understand! I can't live like this anymore!"
"Like what?" He asked as he stopped a few feet from me, his hands up in a gesture I could only guess was one that told me, don't worry, I won't come any closer.
I sighed, shaking my head as I turned my whole body towards him. Might as well humor him. Without looking at his face, I held up my arm, showed him the lifeless bracelet that was wrapped around my wrist.
"It never glows," I said almost too softly, so that my words were almost carried completely away with the wind, "It never has and it never will."
I peeked at his face, at the pitiful expression that I knew would follow, but when I looked up at his face, I saw that he was smiling, laughing almost.
A flash of anger ran through me, and I had the urge to just jump then and there while I was staring into his face, just to see that stupid smile disappear.
But then he held up his right hand too, and showed me his bracelet. It was as lifeless as mine, no color glowed against his skin, nothing.
"No," I said, "No, this can't happen. I've never seen-"
He smiled, "-I know, come on, let's get off this roof," He said holding out his bracelet to me, and his hand.
I took it.
edit: Formatting is hard...
| 2015-03-22T12:00:39 | 2015-03-22T11:21:58 | 184 | 54 |
[WP] Words have literal power. A well constructed sonnet can make a skyscraper. A curse word can actually hurt someone. | It wasn't a perfectly crafted paragraph that destroyed the world, but a single word.
It wasn't a power hungry capitalist that hatched a plot to write himself as the emperor of all mankind enslaving everyone and eventually killing all with his madness.
It wasn't the writers of industry or science who poisoned the planet with the fallout from one of their many experiments with this new power. They wrote of things to blacken the sky, boil the seas, and burn the land....sang songs of destruction so complete that everything was reduced to it's base particles....
but they didn't do it.
It wasn't nefarious, but with the best intent. The word was peace. And it was written for all. | You've probably heard that the pen is mightier than the sword.
It's true. I mean, a sword will kill you fine enough. In a number of ways too. You can stab, slash, decapitate- on and on and on.
With a pen I can do so much more.
I'm one of those so blessed to be called a Writer. Not the kind of writer that you're probably thinking of. A *real* Writer. What I create on the page is mirrored in reality, formed by the words wrought by my pen upon the page.
I've done pretty well for myself. I keep to the code of ethics that my teachers instilled within me in my youth. I don't use my pen for striking down those that wish me harm and those that cheat me. I mustn't destroy, for mine is too great a power to abuse.
I do a lot of contractor work for construction firms. Building new HQs or creating a tough-to-come-by part that they'd rather skip the hassle on. I've worked for the government from time to time too, but I tend to avoid them as of late. All they want is people dead and more natural resources found.
Don't even get me started on that. Do you know how easy it is to go down that slope? I could make myself the richest person on Earth easily, but do you know what that would do to the economy? I could create a lover out of thin air that is a perfect match for me, but do you know what that could do to humanity?
It is forbidden to pass certain limits.
Unfortunately, I have a problem. Despite the majority of those of my kind keeping to ourselves, there is another Writer out there making a name for himself, by doing what I have just described is forbidden. He has made a human, subservient to himself.
We all sensed it. We all know it happened. The only thing that can be written now is our response. Many will stay silent, shaking their heads in quiet disapproval. Others will follow in his footsteps. I fear that many will do the latter, seeing as our code of ethics has no ramifications if broken.
I fear that I may have to do what my teacher always feared. I fear that I may have to ensure that there are no more breaches to our law. That there are none who defy Nature. The power to create life should only be given to the Divine.
I fear that I may have to go to war.
| 2016-02-09T17:35:20 | 2016-02-09T16:59:55 | 43 | 23 |
[WP] When you die, you are given the chance to flip a coin. If you call the toss correctly, you are allowed to keep living, while resetting to the age of your choice. You've been doing this for a couple centuries now. Death is starting to get pretty pissed. | Both Death and Daniel watched as the coin pirouetted through the air. The light of the moon danced off one surface and then the other. Heads then tails. Heads then tails.
"No!" screamed Daniel as for the 256th time, the coin landed heads up.
"No!" screamed Death, painfully aware that Daniel had slipped through his fingers once again. He clutched at his scythe and held it near. Death then took a few deep breaths, sucking air in through his mouth before it escaped through his unskinned ribs like water through gills.
"So be it," said Death, regaining a crumb of composure. "You live again. You are alive. Now with my touch you shall be sent back. You will be healthy and young. Your memories will be kep-"
"I know the rules, Death," sighed Daniel, "But I can't do this again. I have lived too long already. I have lived through hundreds of loved ones dying. I have watched the world change to something I do not understand -- that I don't *want* to understand. Take me, Death."
"You know I cannot. And this is more painful for me than it is for you, Daniel. You requested the gamble upon your original death, the pact must be honoured until you flip tails."
"I took the gamble for her, I didn't want to leave her..." Daniel said as he looked down at the dirt floor. "But she left me long ago. And now I am ready to leave. I was ready long ago."
"I am sorry for your loss, Daniel. I do not like what I have to do and I would much rather take you. But you must go back."
"Did she...did she take the gamble? Did she flip a coin; did she try to come back to me?"
"Every time you ask this question, but you know I cannot answer. Why do you pain yourself? Why does it matter so much to you?"
"It just, does." replied Daniel in little more than a whisper.
Daniel was silent for a moment and Death, for his part, stood as still as stone.
"Swap with me." Daniel pleaded suddenly. "Let me become the new Reaper. Let me send you back to humanity."
Death paused for a while and clutched his scythe to his bony chest
as he considered the offer.
"I cannot. It is forbidden. Daniel, you have knowledge far beyond any mortal. You have power. Do something with it. Improve them."
"I cannot change the world. I have spent many lifetimes trying and failing. I started wars and I ended them. I created and tried ideological and social revolutions. All I learned was that they can't be helped. There is no perfect state for them. We, they, are a creature of flux. They need uncertainty and chaos."
"Be that as it may, you must go back."
Daniel fell to his knees as a plume of dust sprinkled up into the moonlit night. He picked up the fallen coin and stared at it in hatred. "So be it. Touch my head with your boney hand and send me back."
Death paused again for a moment, before nodding and floating forward. He lowered a hand towards Daniel. But before his boney fingers touched Daniel's head, Daniel sprung forward and flew at the sharp scythe that Death held. Daniel raised his neck to meet the razor like edge of the scythe. At the same time he flipped the coin into the air.
A fountain of crimson burst from his neck.
The coin pirouetted in the moonlight before landing on the dusty floor. Blood trickled over the coin and a bony smile crept over Death's face.
"Yes, she gambled, Daniel." said Death leaning down to pick up the man's body.
| Call me Nathan. I died last night, but I am not afraid.
I learned two centuries ago that there are winners and there are losers. I am a loser – but I’m clever. I reach into my pocket and pull out a little black coin and look it over briefly. I might not be a terribly skilled man, but I know how to get by.
I look up as my door opens up and the Grinning Man walks in. He wears his black slacks and his black button down shirt, his mane of black hair is clean but unstyled. He removes his shoes before sitting down across from me; he always does this no matter what the style of the day is, he wants me to see the rotted flesh and exposed bone that he has been walking on.
“You are looking well, Nathan. Are you feeling lucky today?”
“I always am.”
“Has this life treated you well?”
“I met some beautiful women, smoked some beautiful plants, watched some wonderful performances, and I am very curious to see where this whole internet thing is going to go.”
The Grinning Man studies me for a moment then bursts out with a laugh. “Wow! What a life! Is it still so precious to you?”
I hesitate for a moment – he cuts me off.
“Are you aware that you are losing your mind, Nathan? I suppose you are. Is that why you spend so much time in your bed now? Watching Abbot and Costello because the world is just moving too fast? You have not listened to anything recorded since the sixties. Are you sure that it is not time to just let the natural order have its way? It’s time to die, Nathan, your soul was never meant to be human for so long.”
I scowl at him and stand up, “I’ll tell you when I’m ready to die! It’s not today! Are you ready to do this?”
The Grinning Man leans back and holds up a hand to tell me to steady myself.
“Have you been of use to anyone this life?”
I knew what he was asking. I had been feeling it myself. I used past fortunes to sustain my life, I have not worked for sixty years. I knew so very few people. I did not want to know them – they disappoint you.
“Why should it matter to you? Let’s play the game.”
He slammed his hand on the table and yelled out – his voice sounded like an entire chorus screaming in rage – “remember your place, mortal! Do not suppose that I will tolerate impatience from something like you!”
I looked down at the table and inhaled deeply. “There is a young boy in the apartment complex. Maybe 12? I was of use to him.”
“In what way?” He asked as his voice became more calm and earthly.
“I should not say. It might spoil the game.”
A young man had lost his father and rarely saw his mother. Maybe I corrupted him, but it was all I could do for the boy. I taught him how to gamble and purposely lost to him so that he could buy himself a few small things to bring him some joy. His favorite trick, of course, was the coin toss. Who knows? Maybe I made that boy immortal.
“Very well, are you ready, Nathan?”
I pulled out my coin and stared Death himself in the eye. This is the only time I can stand to look at him as my mark. “One coin toss. If I call correctly, then I get another life. I want to start at the age of 25. If I fail, then my soul is yours to do with as you must.”
“Agreed.”
I flipped the coin. I set the coin on my thumb Tails up. I exerted the exact effort that I needed. I flipped-
“Is it because of all the friends – the wife – that I have reaped that you refuse to know anyone else?”
I felt the old familiar lump in my throat. My eyes burned a little. It was all I could do to not let my loneliness spill out again. Not in front of him. This was not the critical matter, though, what mattered was that the coin clattered against the table and his rotting hand stretched out and covered it.
“Call it, Nathan.”
“That’s dirty.”
“Call it!”
The coin, starting tails up, flipped with the exact angle and force I intended, should have landed heads. Did I flip it correctly? I paused to think and then saw his rotting hand turn young and healthy. I looked up and saw my young friend sitting across from me.
“Nathan,” the young boy said, “it is a blessing to be mortal. Call it.”
“Tails.”
The young boy smiled, “thank you, Nathan. You have taught me much.” He collected up my coin and slipped it in his pocket. “I have a game to go play. If I win, well, maybe you and I will see each other in Sheol one day.”
He stood up and stretched out, as he did so he stretched himself out to the form of the Grinning Man once again. As he turned to walk out the door, I felt compelled to follow him. There are winners and losers. Maybe sometimes losers are just too clever to realize what winning is. As I entered the hallway, out of the corner of my eye I saw my wife smiling.
I walked forward as the edges of my world began going dark. I hope that there is a new color after it all goes black, but if there is, I’ll never be able to tell you so.
| 2016-09-23T08:35:02 | 2016-09-23T08:06:29 | 476 | 115 |
[WP] After decades of fighting crime and injustice, a super hero's faith in humanity is broken. As he holds his innocent murdered daughter in his arms, he allows his rage against humanity consume him. A super villain is born. | To be honest with you, sometimes I regret how things turned out. I wish it could've been different. Wish *I* could've been different. But hey, water under the bridge, right?
I've been a -- a superhero, I guess you could call it, I don't know if I like that term -- since my teenage years. I can make myself invisible, you see. That kind of power gives me a duty to do good in the world. Back in the early days, I used it to catch criminals and turn them in to the Forces Of Law And Justice in the city. It was pretty simple: wait around for a crime, whack the criminal in the head, take the unconscious evildoer and any evidence down to the police station. Wasn't real effective, though; I see that now. Some cases got thrown out for "lack of evidence." In too many others, some millionaire or city official leaned on the judge and the bad guy got off.
I acquired a bit of a reputation as a result of all this. They called me "Gyges, The Invisible Man." Wasn't sure how I liked that name, but of course I couldn't use my real one. I had a wife and daughter to protect, and a lot of the guys I was dealing with were dangerous people. I was naive in those days; I thought I could protect my family behind a mask and a funny name. I couldn't.
It was May 19, 2007 -- I'll never forget that date. Nice evening, warm but not too warm, not a cloud in the sky. I was coming back from a reasonably successful night, caught two muggers and a pickpocket. But then I got home, and the door was hanging open.
Emily and Sophie were inside -- my wife and daughter. Their bodies were cold when I found them. I won't describe the scene any further, but you can know that it was awful. When I came back to my senses, I checked the home security cameras -- I wasn't stupid, you know, I figured my identity might be discovered someday. I just didn't think... well, anyway.
I recognized the man I saw. Local scoundrel; I'd picked him up for assault before. Really the guy needed mental help -- but he was the mayor's son. Never saw a consequence in his life. I thought at first he'd made me somehow, come after my family for revenge... but no. The video just showed a burglary gone bad. A house he thought was empty, when Sophie showed up. He didn't target them because of me. He targeted them just because they were there.
Well, of course I wanted to kill the guy. And I did; he needed to be put down. But he was a rabid animal who should never have been free. As long as the mayor who protected him, and the corrupt system which allowed it, remained in place, my family remained unavenged. The other families -- the wives, the daughters, the fathers, the brothers -- that the system was permitted to murder went unavenged.
So I did what anyone would do in that situation. I got involved in local politics. I met with the mayor as Gyges, and we had a nice chat; I convinced him not to run again. I did this by executing his family. I think he got my message -- last I heard, he's living in a bottle somewhere in Mexico.
When the election came, I looked carefully at the candidates and decided which one I liked better. Hank Kemp was my choice; not perfect, but not as bad as the other guy. Gyges met with him too; Kemp came away with a set of ironclad ideals and no visible bruising. That was when he received Gyges' endorsement. It didn't mean much at first, because voting is supposed to be confidential. I've never really liked that. I figure we need some kind of accountability there. So I took it upon myself to keep people accountable -- joined them, unseen, in the polling booths. Kemp didn't win the first election, but he sure as hell won the second.
You might see me as a bad guy. I get that. But look around you. This city is finally safe. Crime is down across the board, and it keeps falling. There's no more corruption, no more graft -- you know how much revenue we used to lose lining politicians' pockets? That money built the Sophie Griffiths Memorial Hospital last year. It repaved roads, it laid new gas lines, it put food on the tables of those who need it the most. So when I doubt -- when I wonder if I did wrong -- I remember that. Then I get back out there and deal justice to any jackass who wants to stand in my way. | The Enforcers had finally broken into the Resistance’s final stronghold. The alarms sounded, and people rushed into positions. The first few robots were easily destroyed. But as they continued to pour in, the Resistance knew that the end was near. Rogue had finally found them.
The Resistance had contingency plans for their contingency plans in the case that Rogue’s forces found them. But they never expected to see an army of Enforcers busting in. In an act of desperation, Luke set off the EMP. It would leave them basically defenseless, but at least the robots would be down. As powerful as Rogue was, he was still one man. Maybe a majority of the Resistance could still evacuate and set up base in the predetermined location.
Silence came as the alarms went quiet and the robots powered down. The Resistance knew they needed to evacuate. In an orderly fashion, they went to the nearest hidden exits. There were two such exits, each with a passage to different places in the outside world. To their dismay, there were powered down Enforcers in both passages. Rogue had known about the secret tunnels. They had no choice but to go down through. The robots would slow down the evacuation process, but not stop it.
Then Rogue came. He flew in. Bullets from the defenders bounced harmlessly off of him. He easily took them down. Hand to hand combat, knock the defender out, fly to next guard, and repeat. Within minutes, the guards were down.
Rogue flew at Luke, grabbed him by the throat, and slammed him into the wall.
Even though they knew better, the Resistance stopped evacuating and turned to watch. Luke was their leader. He was the one who had saved them from the life of mindlessness. He gave them back their free will.
“Do you submit now?” Rogue calmly asked Luke. He let go of Luke—Luke was gasping for air. As Luke fell to the ground, he defiantly exclaimed, “Never!”
Luke pointed to the wall that Rogue had just slammed him into. “Don’t you remember who you were?” Luke cried out. It was a montage of newspaper clippings, photos, and internet articles from the past three decades all about Rogue. Rogue looked at the wall, and started to remember his past.
The people named him Rogue because he refused to carry out the purpose for his creation—a super soldier used by the government to keep the people in check. Instead, he protected the people. He used his powers to save lives, and help others out. He caught criminals and handed them over to let the law judge them.
He got married to the reporter he saved on countless occasion, and they were even able to have a daughter.
But then things went wrong. The law failed to prosecute some of the criminals he captured. Using money they had acquired through their criminal empires, they had hired the best lawyers and bribed the judge and jury. A few weeks later, those criminals started to fight amongst themselves. It turned into a blood bath as underlings were marshalled out.
Rogue could only do some much to keep the peace; he was only one man. While he was in one part of town trying to stop a fight with bullets bouncing off of him, in another part of town, another fight broke out. This time, his wife and daughter were caught in the crossfire. His wife and apparently his daughter were not bulletproof—perhaps his daughter hadn’t inherited that ability, or maybe it hadn’t manifested yet. They took multiple shots and died.
After clearing one the first fight, Rogue received word from a law enforcement officer that there was another fight going on. He flew over to stop the fighting. When he got there he saw his family on the ground dead in a pool of their blood. Grief hit Rogue as he held their bodies. Tears tricked down as he wondered if he could have done anything to have prevented their deaths.
As he ran through multiple scenarios, most of them included him getting onto the scene faster, a bullet bounced off of him. “It’s their fault my family is gone,” he thought as rage started filling his heart. He got up. Instead of the usual, round the bad guys up routine he usual does, he proceeded to murder the bad guys. One punch to the chest and the heart ruptured. He cared not about what happened, as long as those responsible were dead.
The media and the people were stunned as they watched the coverage. But Rogue wasn’t done. While he was finishing up the thugs, a thought came to him, “These guys should be in jail. They shouldn’t have been able to walk free.” So he went to the lawyers, jury, and judge and proceeded to extract vengeance. It was after that that he realized that if he had just dealt with the criminals instead of handing them over, all this could have been avoided.
With that Rogue became judge, jury, and executioner. He took over the government and ruled through fear. Anybody who did anything wrong would be instantly executed. He created the Enforcers to keep the citizens in check. As long as the people were on good behavior—following Rogue’s plans, they were alright.
The Resistance formed and Rogue spent the last few years hunting them down.
Rogue replied to Luke, “Yes, I do. And that’s why I do what I do. I’m here to keep the peace. You humans would just destroy each other if left to your own devices.” “Humans were never meant to live the way you decreed. We’re meant to be free, to enjoy life. Not mindlessly follow your schedule,” Luke responded. “And I was created by the government to subjugate the people...only I’ve become the government as well. I ask again, will you submit?”
“Never,” Luke echoed his response. “So be it,” Rogue said as he punched through Luke’s chest. Blood splattered the wall behind, hitting the article that headlined “Rogue, Hero of the People.”
The people screamed and panicked as they tried to push their way out. Wiping the blood off his hand, Rogue flew above the people, raised his voice, and said, “Surrender and submit or die.”
| 2017-01-25T14:18:04 | 2017-01-25T11:23:51 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] You are stranded on a deserted island all by yourself for years, when you get rescued. You express your surprise that people are still looking for you after all this time, when one of the rescuers says that you've only been gone for three days. | "Does this look like three days ! " you indignantly demanded of the man in the orange colored life vest , pointing to your matted shoulder length natty dreads .. the tattered remnants of the pants held together around the bony hips of your waist by a crude belt of dried vines, slipped down slightly as you spread your hands mockingly at the incredulous statement... turning around your voice rising to the suddenly familiar mocking tone you always used with dressing down those less than perfect interns so long ago in Hollywood ...
YES the same brattish idiots who you would soon tear to shreds no matter where they had managed to advance to while you had been stuck on this god forsaken island ..
YES those same fools whose names burned like lava in the boiling cauldron of rage that was still you, the most successful and originator of true reality series..
You could barely contain your raging spleen as you pointed out to the fools in those oddly flawless orange brand new orange life vests the obvious impossibilities of this 3 day explanation .. any gratitude you felt towards your rescuers lost in the all consuming rage you felt at now being so close to returning to Hollywood where you would soon wreck havoc upon the lives of those idiot interns who bungling incompetence so many years ago had left you stranded here.
Spinning around to unleash a fresh new diatribe of painfully obvious evidence of your too long years of bare existence towards the moron who had told you that it was only three days since your disappearance , you froze as you heard him whispering into his concealed lapel mic " He's not buying it "
A gulp froze in your throat as a strangely familiar voice , came back over a speaker "OK OK .. terminate the shoot, kill him, we'll re-write the ending "
| The day started like every other day, the sand was still moist from the night rain, the crabs were slowly going back to the rocks they belonged during the day and the sun was shyly shining behind the fleeing clouds.
But on the horizon I noticed a black spot, something I hadn't seen in a long time, something that could change my every day life, the silhouette of a boat.
There was little chance that the boat would see me or my hut, and even if it were the case, I don't think it would come to this island to save me after all these years. If I recalled well, in two months it would be fourteen years that I was on this island.
I was a skipper participating in the vendee globe race, I wasn't the favorite but I was in the first five candidates, until I got inside that storm. The storm appeared suddenly and violently, catching me by surprise when it broke the main pole. I activated my beacon but a wave submerged my boat, breaking and sending him right to the abyss.
My only way of survival was to wait for the rescue team. For 3 days, I let myself float on a piece of my boat, with the little I could save, the water and snacks I had on me.
When the storm stopped, I didn't know where I was but I could see a land far away, something that could be my salvation. I summoned the last strengths I had in my body and tried to reach the beach.
The island was beautiful, something you seek when you're searching for your holidays, but at the moment I was more concerned by my survival. The first months were rough, I doubted about everything, I thought about suicide more than once a day, I felt hunger, like never before.
But after a while, I started to like this island, I had the simplest but happiest life I ever had. My only concern was what to eat and hopefully the island provided me with a lot of options. The island had fruits, some edible roots like cassava, monkeys, caimans, a kind of warthog and, of course, fishes. The negative points of the island was the loneliness and the constant humidity the rain provided.
But the boat seemed to come to this island and it surprised me when the rescue team appeared with the whole first aid kit. They seemed genuinely worried about my health, they were talking about how everyone was worried and that it was a miracle that I was still alive. After a while I asked them:
"How did you find this island after this many years? I thought the world forgot about me!"
"What do you mean by this many years?"
"Well, after 14 years on this island, I wouldn't think about coming back to civilization"
"14 years? But sir... You've gone missing for 3 days..." The doctor told me
"3 days? That's absurd! Look at everything around us! I've lived on this island for years, I even domesticated in some ways. For my own comfort!"
"Sir, you are confused, we can understand that, but the beacon was activated 3 days ago..."
"Doctor! Listen to me and watch me! My whole body is the living proof that I lived on this island for much longer than 3 days. I built a home you can't build in three days! That's nonsense!"
"Doctor, I think he's right... His body is way older that what it's supposed to be..." A nurse declared.
What was the secret of this island? That was the question I asked myself while the rescue team was taking me back to civilization | 2017-02-04T03:41:49 | 2017-02-04T03:11:58 | 82 | 57 |
[WP] You've been teleported into an unexpected deathbattle. Your special ability...is your username.
EDIT: You guys are awesome. Alot of funny and interesting ones so far! I might want to start this prompt every year or something (if that's allowed). | As the crackle of energy dissipates I find myself standing in the arena. The place rocks with the roar of the crowd. The cheers of excitement begin to fade and are replaced with murmurs of confusion as no one appears on the second pedestal. And no one ever will. I raise my right arm in victory as I slowly exit the ruins. | FWUMP.
"OH SHIT," I puke onto the grass of the stadium. On my hands and knees, feeling like the whole world got inverted into my bones and folded back. Not pleasant being teleported, no sir.
Especially not to AN UNEXPECTED DEATHBATTLE!
I look up to see a brute, all clad in metal and armor. I wipe the acid from my mouth, panting. I'm wearing nothing but a loincloth, and feel a particular kind of sexual power when I stand, knowing how I glint in the sexy stadium lights.
My fated combatant does a roar. There's a small shockwave that ripples my hair. I laugh, "Heh!" and position my foot forward, coiled in poise. He does not understand.
"You don't understand!" I call out.
He says something but he is too far away to bother hearing. And so he begins to run towards me. I look out to the crowd. I know my loincloth is billowing. How many people are here for this? Pathetic.
He's mere feet from me, a real vision of girth and kinetic energy, when I say with scorn, "Bad, no."
The crowd holds their breath.
He stops, as they all do. "Me?" he says.
"Yeah, man."
I see him get all flustered and angry, "Ugh, you are so pretentious," to which I can only reply by running my hand through my irresistibly, thick, curly hair.
And also: "Bad, no!"
The brute falls to his knees. "Bad, no." The position is no longer viable for him, and he shifts to his elbows. "Bad, no." He lies face down on the ground. "Bad, no." He begins to scream, as they all do.
I whisper in his ear, right to the core of his heart, I whisper, "Bad, no." He shits himself, and begins to convulse. "Bad, no." He stops. "Bad, no." And he dies.
The audience begins to breathe, in terror should I ever speak my power to them. | 2017-07-17T20:09:21 | 2017-07-17T19:08:03 | 57 | 36 |
[WP] You've been teleported into an unexpected deathbattle. Your special ability...is your username.
EDIT: You guys are awesome. Alot of funny and interesting ones so far! I might want to start this prompt every year or something (if that's allowed). | *"Uh... Someone help me,"* I called to the audience.
"No! We are just spectators and this is funny" Some random guy yelled bac
I looked back at the giant lumbering towards me.
Suddenly a group of people dressed in WW2 outfits appearing in front of me, one of whom looked suspiciously like Tom Hanks.
Then, they charged. | It was the middle of the night.
As I was preparing to sleep, a bright light flashes outside the window. I had no time to react, and was instantly teleported to some sort of jail cell.
Through the bars, I could see that there was some sort of arena outside. "nah." I say to myself and lay on the floor to sleep. Just before I can close my eyes, a man shows up outside my cell and says "Hello, and welcome to UNEXPECTED DEATH BATTLE FEATURING TWO RANDOM PEOPLE!" That is not a very good thing, I thought. I had absolutely no experience fighting people AT ALL.
Before I could say anything, the man left and my jail cell opened up, with multiple weapons laid out in front of me. A cell on the other side of the arena opened up too, also with weapons laid out in front of it. "My opponent is there, and I'm gonna be a dead person within the next few minutes." I once again said to myself.
I hastily picked up a sword and shield and watched what my opponent would choose. He finally came out of his jail cell. A big, burly man, and I was pretty sure I had seen him somewhere. It hit me. He was the boxing champion Bobby McBobberson. I was very very dead.
He put on gauntlets and kicked aside the other weapons, and quickly started dashing towards me. I closed my eyes and prepared for the worst, hoping that somewhere, somehow, something would save me.
Suddenly, the sound of rushing water filled the arena, and a massive boat crashed through the walls, killing half of the audience and Bobby McBobberson. The mystery man showed up in front of me once more, just as confused as I was, and said "well your opponent is dead so i guess you win, i will teleport you home now." A bright light filled the arena, and I closed my eyes.
I opened my eyes to ask what had happened, but all I could see was white. Oh wait, that's the roof of my room, and I'm in my bed. I turned on the TV, and wasn't prepared for the news feed.
"Boxing champion Bobby McBobberson found dead in his bed." | 2017-07-17T22:02:16 | 2017-07-17T20:12:27 | 47 | 17 |
[WP] You've been teleported into an unexpected deathbattle. Your special ability...is your username.
EDIT: You guys are awesome. Alot of funny and interesting ones so far! I might want to start this prompt every year or something (if that's allowed). | *"Uh... Someone help me,"* I called to the audience.
"No! We are just spectators and this is funny" Some random guy yelled bac
I looked back at the giant lumbering towards me.
Suddenly a group of people dressed in WW2 outfits appearing in front of me, one of whom looked suspiciously like Tom Hanks.
Then, they charged. | When I came to my senses I was behind the wheel of an old convertible. The keys were in the ignition and I could hear a V6 engine purring softly behind me. I didn't have much of a chance to observe my surroundings before the giant ice monster charged towards me.
I looked down in horror as I realized that the car was a stick shift. I slammed the clutch, threw the car into reverse, and punched the gas pedal, pulling a 180-turn to escape my foe. The crowd cheered in all sorts of otherworldly tongues at my Tokyo Drift moves.
The arena was rather spacious for being on an asteroid. I managed to hit a solid 80 miles an hour while escaping my pursuer. I soon realized that there was no way out, and there was only one way I could get back to my bed in my home on Earth.
I had to kill the giant ice monster.
And I wasn't sure how I would do that armed only with a Porsche 914.
Normally I'd be thrilled to have my dream car, but it seemed pretty useless in this situation.
Suddenly I had an idea. A rather stupid one. I stopped the car. The ice monster stood several hundred feet away from me. I revved the engine and the ice monster charged towards me again.
I hit the gas and started driving to meet it. I watched its footsteps carefully, then threw the car into a spin right as its foot hit the ground right in front of me. The force from the car caused the monster's foot to snap right off, its wedge shape perfectly setting up the next phase of my plan.
Angered at the loss of its foot, the ice monster limped towards me. I only had a few moments to make my move.
I turned the car around as quickly as I could, then floored the gas pedal as I drove towards the ramp-shaped foot on the ground. The monster was in perfect position.
As the car approached the makeshift ramp, I undid my seatbelt, threw the door open, and tumbled to the floor. I watched as the car soared through the air, shattering the ice monster into a million shards.
The crowd roared at the spectacle as I faded from existence.
I awoke back in my bed, my clothing still stained from the blood-red alien sand. | 2017-07-17T22:02:16 | 2017-07-17T21:58:57 | 47 | 14 |
[WP] Heaven and Hell do exist after death but you can choose in which you go. You jokingly choose Hell and when you arrive there, you hear Satan saying: "Finally someone! A friend!" | `You were perfect in your ways from the day you were created till iniquity was found in you` (Ezekiel 28:15)
He was supposed to be the perfect angel. The one who chose free will and to corrupt it. I had to see him, but... i didn't expect him to be so... beautiful.
"What's this? A friend? Finally... some one who understands."
"Hi, you... hi." My heart fluttered in my chest. The other angels were clearly things created by a being so infinitely old that human shapes were not his original design, but Satan... Lucifer, he was... gorgeous. The long beautiful hair, the toned body and tight skin, the symmetry of his face and the broadness of his shoulders. He glowed.
"I was hoping eventually someone would understand my design. You chose me." his smile was perfect in his chiseled face.
" I did. I figured if the Ezekiel was right you should hold wisdom far more capable of a human mind to grasp. I spent my life searching truth, my truth, and when i knew i could choose you or him, i knew God knew it all, where is the wisdom in the infinite?
`Your heart was lifted up because of your beauty; you corrupted your wisdom for the sake of your splendor` (Ezekiel 28:17).
"I chose free will. God doesn't take kindly to letting others debase themselves. I don't blame him, Dad is set in his ways. If i had made everything from nothing i would want it to be perfect too, but i knew that there had to be something to ugly, something to freedom." He pushed his foot outward just enough to show light streaming from the gates behind him.
Then it slipped out. "God you're fucking pretty." I slapped my hands over my mouth, "I am so sorry... That was ... sorry."
He blushed and then took a step back from the door, "Please come in." | Lucifer gleefully asks "What do you wanna do?". Echoing in a void of nothingness.
Cautiously Chet replies, "Uh what do you mean?"
"Look, it's been boring as well, hell frankly, and all that nonsense about torture and brimstone is propaganda. Let's do something fun if you don't believe me."
Chet incredulously proceeds, "If I want to have an orgy in a milkshake fountain, you're not going to rape me with demons or anything?"
Conjuring a comfortable dive bar from Chet's memories appears and a cliche yet suave impish bartender to embody his infernal majesty.
Busying himself washing glasses, his Van Dyk rimmed mouth opens, "Chet, If I wanted to torture you, we could be doing sexual reassignment surgery right now. No anesthetic. I mean it. No tricks, no genie wish bullshit."
Chet guardedly takes a barstool.
Incredulously, "Whiskey, Irish, neat."
Snapping his fingers a drink manifests from crimson flames. "I could use dark magic for the dishes, seems like cheating though."
Chet sips the whiskey, "It's good." he admits surprised.
"Of course it is." Satan scoffs. "All we have on the jukebox is Justin Bieber sadly."
Then the moment Chet reacts, "Kidding, I'm kidding, that'd be cruel." The classic riff of Hendrix's Purple Haze starts playing.
"You can smoke in the bars here. No pun intended."
Chet feels his pockets, pulls out his pack of full flavored Winstons, and lights one up. Thinking he swirls his lowball and swallows the rest down.
The Dark Lord slides an ashtray to him. "You've got questions, I'm sure. I understand if you don't trust me. There's quite a smear campaign going on about me, not fair at all."
Chet, "So this isn't God fucking with me, there's distinctly two realms? I'm dead?"
Lucky,"Dead as a door nail. They don't let you have any fun up there. Sex, Drugs, Violence, even cursing is kinda frowned upon. Here is more like, Valhalla. Feast, drink, die in glorious battle, rise again."
Chet is still skeptical, "So you get my guard down, and then whammo torture city gotcha."
Lucy, "Chet, nothing could be further from the truth." Heavy machinery is heard outside the bar, a dark city grows in the void around them. Metal squealing crescendos right in the parking lot "Ever driven a tank before?"
Before Chet can ask for a second whiskey, his glass is full. He glances into the red and black eyes doubtfully. Getting up slowly nursing his cigarette and drink Chet makes his way to a dingey window facing the parking lot.
"A tank, so I can blow up some buildings, maybe fight an onslaught of zombies?" he inquires attempting a casual tone.
"You can do whatever you want. You can shoot laser beams out of your ass, and be a robot space pirate fighting a horde of demons in space. Whatever you like."
Chet finishes his drink and his cigarette determined to double down on his "fuck it" attitude, "Alright, let's plink some zombies for a bit on the roof. But uh, keep the pain turned on. Playing without it would be cheating."
"Atta boy Chet!", Evil incarnate triumphantly encouraged. "I knew you picked right. We're going to have a hell of a time you and I!"
--This might be the first time I've tried to submit something here. Maybe predictable or cliche, but I wanted to get the idea out of my head. | 2022-11-26T21:59:01 | 2017-11-04T11:19:44 | 44 | 19 |
[wp] You work at an office in Hell. You don't live in Hell, nor are you trapped their for eternity. Lucifer just thinks you're excellent at Excel. | His voice was demonic and booming. Every word he uttered sounded like the screaming souls of those evildoers who died across all of eternity, screams of pain, suffering, and madness. His appearance was both unbearable and intangible, as if I were staring at all of my nightmares- no, every nightmare imaginable, all at once. My eyes would burn with despair if I looked into his impenetrable void for too long.
This all made it *really* hard to have a casual conversation with him about Excel.
“SO YOU CAN JUST TALLY UP ALL THEIR SINS AND GET A TOTAL COUNT? AND THEN YOU JUST USE THAT DATA TO CALCULATE AN APPROPRIATE PUNISHMENT FOR THEM?”
“Uh, yep. A lot of people don’t know how to use the functions in Excel, but they are really quite handy.”
“FASCINATING WORK, JONATHAN. IT’S REALLY GREAT TO HAVE SOMEONE LIKE YOU AROUND. SO WHAT’S ALL THIS WITH THE COLORS?”
“Well, I just think it’s a good way of, um, visualizing different categories. Stuff like gender, how long they lived, what type of religio-“
“INFINITE SUFFERING TO ALL CHRISTIANS!” he boomed, suddenly starting a fit of rage.
I grimaced and sweat a little as he screamed in agony and wrath. He started smashing and throwing the surrounding hellstone like a wild beast as I created a function to change the punishment of all Christians to “Infinite Suffering.”
“Alright, it’s done…” I said softly.
“GOOD. THANK YOU, JONATHAN. STATE YOUR WISHES,” he commanded.
“Oh, no, that’s really okay, Lucifer. I like what I do.”
“STATE YOUR WISHES!” he yelled, shaking the realm of hell with his voice. I quivered in my desk chair.
“Umm…could I have a puppy? Something to keep me company?”
“THE CONTRACT IS SEALED. KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK.”
Suddenly, a little hell dog appeared by my side. It’s fur was ashy and its body glowed as if its soul was made of magma. Immediately, it ran towards my side and started licking my hand. I smiled.
“Thanks, Lucifer,” I said. He nodded at me and vanished in the next instant.
I stared at my Excel spreadsheet, and then back at the dog.
“Umm, sit!”
He sat.
“Good boy! Roll over!”
He rolled and barked. A small fireball escaped his mouth. I smiled again and started petting him.
*I think I’ll like it here.* | "Bye sweetie!" I give my wife a deep kiss and get in my car for work. I am just a normal 30 year old accountant who works in a normal, not too big not too small firm, making spreadsheets, checking them and re checking them for 5 hours a day, with a few breaks in between.
Except, I am not a normal employee.
I reach a T-intersection, and just before reaching the turning point, I press a red button right below the radio and drive straight into the wall.
BBBAAMMM!!!
-was not heard as there was no collision and instead I entered a tunnel. Not a physical one but one in another dimension. As I am driving through, I see another car coming straight behind me. And then, I was out of the tunnel and in a normal office parking lot.
I park the car, wait for a few moments, see the other person coming, go up to him and say, "Good morning Jeff. Doing good?"
"Good morning to you too, Jace. I am doing fine. What about you?"
"Same here. Hey, I am sorry for what happened yesterday. You managed to complete it?"
Suddenly, Jeff's face goes from a happy face to a confused one for just a moment before it is replaced by very mild anger.
"Ah, about that. Thanks for reminding me. Taking in sight of my track record and the circumstances, where *you* didn't wait and turned off the mains before checking for anyone else, I was let off with just a slight warning."
He fished out a few pages from his bag and gave it to me.
"Now, here are the pages. Since I didn't do them yesterday, because of you, you will be doing them today in my stead."
"I would love to help but you know they don't allow us to do other's work..."
"No but(t)s, I already got one last night. No one's going to know. You are the most hard-working guy here. What we do in 8 hrs, you do in 5 hrs. I am sure you can do this. I am counting on you. Besides, it was your fault anyways. Good luck."
By now, we were at our floor so he immediately bee-lined for his own desk, leaving the papers in my hands.
"That lazy ass... Might as well do it and be done with it..." I grumbled to myself.
So I started my computer and opened MS-Excel. Before starting, as usual, I took a look outside the window to motivate myself.
The sky outside was just the normal red with bits of violent mixed in. There were the usual fiends strolling about, succubi flying around, stalkers stalking their targets, beholders beholding the scene and some more demons strolling about whose specie I did not know. There were some volcanoes erupting in the background and a lot of hot springs here and there.
It motivated me because I did not want to be here. Red just isn't my type. I prefer green. At home, I usually spend all the time with my wife in our garden.
A spectre dropped a big pile on my desk and pulled me out of my thoughts.
*Lets just do it.*
I start with the first page.
Name - Stella Lye
DOB - 20 Mar 1998
DOD - 28 Feb 2018
Cause - Chocking on her dildo
Name - Dane Targo
DOB - 21 Jan 1998
DOD - 28 Feb 2018
Cause - Food poisoning due to week old pizza
...
After a few hours, I am finally done with the pile and start packing up, when I notice the pages that Jeff gave me.
*Oh, I forgot about them. Let's just do it right away.*
So I open Excel again, read the first name and go into shock.
Name - Julie Naier
DOB - 17 Dec 1998
DOD - 27 Feb 2018
Cause - Shot by her boyfriend
Julie Naier is my wife.
I get a mini heart attack when I see the cause. But finally calm down when I notice the DOB. My wife's birthday comes on 19 Nov.
*Come on Jace. Calm down. This isn't your wife. She is safe and sound.*
Then I read the next name, again get a mini heart attack, but this time die for real.
Name - Jace Wilch
DOB - 2 Jul 1988
DOD - 27 Feb 2018
Cause - Heart Attack | 2018-02-27T09:58:28 | 2018-02-27T09:43:33 | 963 | 106 |
[WP] It was said that only the true king could pull the sword from the stone. Well, you couldn't do that, but at least you're strong enough to lift the entire stone with the sword-grip and beat people over the head with it. | "Fuck it, make him king!" I heard someone shout.
"What? No, I didn't pull the sword from the stone. That's not how it works." I replied, staring stunned at the crowd that surrounded me. Half of them were drunkards and the other half were children that hadn't managed to swipe a tankard of ale yet - although it was quite noon.
"You can't just let anyone be king" I continued "the have to pull the sword from the stone"
"Ha! The only swords that get pulled here are the ones that get sheathed in your mum" I heard one of the degenerates yell.
| "Blasphemy!"
"M\-monster!"
"Guards, seize him!"
On that fateful day, I became the most infamous person in the Empire. Apparently, instead of drawing the sword, I tore the stone base off with the sword still embedded in it. And obviously, the Council of Knights and the Emperor himself didn't take it too well.
Despite being exiled, I promptly found shelter by the outskirts in a rural area. After saving a couple of villagers one day by wacking some goblins in the face with my huge boulder sword, I earned my right to live and eat for free in exchange for some protection.
*But still... This is messed up. Don't you think so,* *dear* *reader?*
"Why did I even get exiled for something stupid like this," I sighed, finishing destroying some Slimy Slimes that have been terrorizing the village crops.
"There he is!" A couple of adventurers shouted in the distance, pointing their swords and staff directly at me. "ATTACK!"
"This is the 7th attempt now, when will they know to stop?" I rolled my eyes and prepared a little game of Whack\-A\-Human.
Of course, the adventurers were no match for me as they fly into the air.
"Whew!\~ ♪ Another homerun," I whistled as one dude flew high into the sky, then disappearing into the oblivion. I grinned at the remaining opponents. "Alright, next runner please."
The adventurers surrender, knowing that their skills are eminently inferior than me. I know the Empire has been trying to assassinate me by hiring them from the local guilds, portraying me as a criminal on a flyer I saw one day.
"Man only 500,000 gold coins for my head?" I laughed and ripped the flyer into pieces. "I am worth MUCH more than that, Emperor Hurley."
After the banishment, they realize that I had taken their legendary sword with me and want it back. Oh Boo Hoo!
"Still, if you really want to kill me and ruin my life even more," I gazed at the iron castle in the far distance, standing prominently as a paragon of pure strength in this world. Huge mighty colossal walls protecting it on the outside, rumored to be unpenetrable since ancient times. The current superpower Capital of this time.
"Then perhaps I will become the enemy you think I am and then OBLITERATE you once and for all." | 2018-05-11T00:36:05 | 2018-05-10T21:51:47 | 92 | 48 |
[WP] If your death is imminent, time stops for everyone but you. This allowed you to cheat death on many occasions by avoiding all sorts of danger except for now - you have no idea whats threating your life. Its been a year since time stopped. | King's log day 263:
Lance tried poisoning my chocolate milk again. That jerk. What's a tyrannical leader got to do to have servants who don't try killing him once a week? It was bad enough when my best archer tried to snipe me while I was just about to finish season two of Breaking Bad (Yes, I did kill her family a few weeks ago… but that was a misunderstanding). I swear a murder attempt comes once every 5 hours. At least at feels that way. I forget what the normal length of a day is - how long it takes the sun to rise.
The peasants must be so confused as to how my heart still beats. If only they knew…
King's log day 628:
You know how you are about to finish a crossword puzzle but you can't figure out who the seven-letter president who paved the way for the Trail of Tears is? Imagine that feeling lasting for an entire year. As I walk around my palace all I see is blank faces - it may as well be Medusa's vacation destination of choice. I tried killing myself but it was about as successful as trying to get a response out of my frozen chefs. I miss omelets. Who cares if they were laced with rat poison?
King’s log day 978:
It’s an atomic bomb isn’t it. Shit | "good morning, miss Anderson! What wonderful day this is huh? Just like yesterday and the day before!"
"why yes you're right mister Emmett today is a wonderful day just like yesterday and the day before!"
I grinned, I always had a crush on miss Anderson, the fact that I was talking to her so freely felt like a dream come true, there was no one who could get in my way, no one who could interrupt us, not her fucking husband nor other people.
It felt dirty
It felt unreal.
"Emmet, sweetie? Are you alright?"
*oh right, she always called me that... I didn't like it, it made me feel like she wasn't seeing me as a man but rather just a child*
"Emmet, are you alright?" I corrected her, yes that's better, that's what she should call me, just Emmett is fine.
"I always liked you miss Anderson" I said, my hands sweating.
"...I like you too... Emmet..." I said mimicking her voice. Her body remained unmoving, frozen. A feet in front of the other but never taking a step forward. I'd like to believe she was looking at me but I knew she was looking at nothing in particular.
"...I'm scared miss Anderson" I said " I'm so scared"
"please help me, tell me what should I do"
"tell me how... To get out of here..."
***
*it's just a matter of time*
I went out to my usual walks across the town, searching for something, something that could help me break out of this prison, but just like always, I find nothing. The snow falls from the sky but never reaches the ground.
"ah today is a wonderful day" I said "just like yesterday... and the day before..."
I kept walking. A year had passed since I stopped time and I still couldn't find the threat to my life, no matter how much I walked, no matter how much I looked around. Nothing changed, nothing ever changed.
I walked down a street whose name I could no longer remember, but my body always took me there, to the street where miss Anderson is. Talking to her was the only joy a had left
"hello miss Anderson, today is a wonderful day right? Just like yesterday, just like the day before..."
She didn't say anything.
"this is stupid" I said
"...you're stupid" I said to myself.
*what?*
"for how long did you think you could avoid death?" I snapped "every single time, every single *time* you stopped and changed the way things should have been, did you really think things would remain like that forever? silly you, silly Emmet it was only matter of time before something went wrong, before *someone* changed their approach"
"well then Emmett," I said my voice becoming a whimper "if you wanted eternity, then eternity is what you shall receive"
I laughed out loud, mi voice resonating across the silent streets and alleyways, it was a cry that slowly descended into endless sobbing.
But no matter how loud I cried no one listened.
***
***
I wrote this on my phone.. Hopefully it came out understandable! | 2018-07-04T14:05:18 | 2018-07-04T13:38:26 | 394 | 278 |
[WP] When you ask your daughter what she wants for Christmas, she asks for a unicorn. Your wife laughs it off, but you don't. Neither your wife or daughter know that you're the best monster trapper in the world, and your daughter is getting her unicorn no matter what. | Night descended on the mountain in a rush, revealing an immaculate display of starlight. The forest was quiet, save for the sporadic cackling of a dying fire. The flames danced melodically, the sole companion of the trapper Garrix Madhorn. The roasted grouse sat well in his stomach, and he relaxed, thinking of home.
Five days had passed since Garrix left the small town of Zhona for the slopes of Mt. Bakartia in search of the unicorn. Five days away from the soft, green eyes of his wife. Five days away from the fiery blue eyes of his daughter, who was reaching the age of womanhood. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her, even if it meant leaving the safety of the village for the unknown wilds.
In the days of his youth they called him the Skinner of Sahar, guardian of the northern realms.
Those days had long passed him. He fell in love, and left his mantle behind, instead choosing a quiet trapper’s life. Just this once—he returned to the dark forest, watching the stoic pines sway in rhythm with the wind.
There was something unfamiliar above the treetops. A faint orange light waxed for a moment then flickered into darkness. Unconcerned, Garrix drifted into a lazy, mellow slumber, and dreamed he was standing in an ancient, empty city:
*Vines and jungle growth covered the white marble walls of the high, temple platform. Garrix walked to its edge. It overlooked the city, which lay desolate. He turned back towards the temple, and a figure emerged from its entrance. Smoke billowed from the eyeless and empty form of a man, and it crept closer. An orange glow appeared from the figure’s eyes. The creature gave a shout: deep, piercing, primal. The orange light flashed from the creature. Wind whipped around it, causing Garrix to stumble back. He tripped off the edge of the platform, and tried to catch himself—*
He awoke with a start; the hairs on his neck stood on end. His heart pounded. A soft, orange glow from an indiscernible source filtered through the forest. The wind whipped around him, and a low, deep rumble echoed through the woods—the same primal noise from his dream. Every iota of his being screamed at him to run, and so he ran—away from the light.
The glow of the light behind him disappeared. The wind howled once more, carrying the familiar, metallic scent of blood. Garrix saw a small creature ahead of him, hunched against the base of a pine. He drew his dagger.
With a cry, he buried the dagger deep into the back of the creature—*Goblins!* He stopped, his heart pounding. Goblins always traveled in small groups; where were the others?
Shaking with adrenaline, Garrix removed his dagger from the goblin and bent down to inspect it. What he saw sent shivers down his spine. The goblin died shortly before he arrived. Its hands were burnt, chest crushed, and its eyes and tongue were gouged out.
He had heard of this only once before. The beast stalked the deep mountains of the world, the ultimate hunter, and it was hunting him.
The orange glow appeared behind him, closer, and brighter.
Garrix abandoned the goblin and tore down the mountainside, brushing past tree after tree. His sense of direction long gone, he had one thought: escape. The orange light vanished, and the unknown wail deepened. His foot slipped beneath him, and he tumbled, landing hard on the rocky ground. He stood weakly, wincing as his ankle smarted in pain.
A cold vein of fear iced through him. In the starlight, he discerned a narrow fissure running across the large rock that caused his fall. He dragged himself to the crevice. Beyond lay a small, dark cave, with an almost indiscernible red glow from deeper within.
Garrix crawled to the back of the cave. Reaching out, he felt carvings along the faintly glowing wall. He brushed away at the dirt, and a crimson light blazed bright from ancient runes. With pained eyes he set his back against them, facing the cavern entrance. Grasping his dagger tightly, he prayed to his five gods that he would survive the night, and return to his daughter.
***
This was the first fantasy piece I ever wrote, the source of my fantasy series [The Ar'halym Chronicles](https://www.reddit.com/r/BLT_WITH_RANCH/comments/9vdyhr/arhalym_chronicles/).
Edits to better fit the prompt and fix cringeworthy writing.
r/BLT_WITH_RANCH | (I changed it to her wanting a reindeer, since I felt it fit the theme of Christmas/my story better.)
​
​
Marty awoke to the tickling chill of a gusting breeze. Floorboards creaked as the treehouse swayed, and moonlight probed through the window, sending shadows scampering into the corners.
Marty smiled slightly, his arm draped over Carol's shoulder. They had drifted off to sleep in the tree house, along with Carol's daughter—Marty's step-daughter, Grace. Christmas was coming again. Last year, the tree house itself had been Grace's gift.
This year, though, she'd been going on about wanting a reindeer. How Marty would find one of those, so close to the holiday was beyond him. But he wasn't one to give up without a fight. After all, his particular *skills* were suited for just such an assignment.
Last night, the small family had been sipping hot cocoa, and telling Christmas stories when they'd drifted off up here.
He lifted his arm from Carol and turned towards Grace's side of the boxcar.
His smile faded.
Grace was missing. She wasn't on the beanbag beneath the window where he'd left her. Her blankets were bunched up at the base of the window sill. Marty thought of how Grace had been acting last night. Normally she spent Christmas Eve asking for all sorts of extra presents and goodies stuffed in her stocking. Last night, though, she'd only asked for one thing: a reindeer. Beyond that, she hadn't seemed to want anything else.
There was a thud suddenly, from the direction of the house, followed by mumbled sound of words through wood. Marty didn't recognize the voice. His skin prickled and felt suddenly very cold.
Marty struggled to his feet and raced to the trapdoor. He slid down the ladder into the backyard, and sprinted towards the screen door. It was open a crack. He hotfooted into the living room, where the fireplace was located, fists raised. Then, he spotted the source of the commotion.
Grace was there, which allowed Marty to relax, but only for a moment until he spotted the room's other occupant.
A large, red-suited person with a long white beard was lying on the ground, rolling about and growling. Marty noted that this person's hands were tied, and their feet were ensnared by a lasso dangling form the ceiling. A lasso that belonged in Marty's monster hunting gear.
“Grace, what is this?” Marty said slowly, staring at the unusual scene. “Who is this guy?”
Grace turned sharply at his voice. She hesitated for a moment, caught somewhere between guilt and pride, but then his six year old step daughter beamed and flashed a thumbs up. “Look Marty,” she said, pointing at the dangling genie. “I caught Santa!”
It took Marty nearly ten seconds to comprehend what she was saying. “You...” he stared at Grace. “You...” His gaze shifted to the red-suited, large genie.
He glanced at the sack on the floor, just inside he glimpsed wrapping paper and bows.
“His reindeer and sleigh are outside,” said Grace, pointing towards the front door.
Marty stared for another ten seconds as everything started crashing in. He actually reached down and pinched himself. It hurt. Not a dream then.
His wife's daughter had captured Santa Claus.
She had shown an interest in his work that hadn't been there before over the last couple of weeks. Now, he knew why. “How did you capture that phoenix in Brussels?” she had asked. “How do you snare something with legs, without hurting it?” He'd answered her questions, flattered that she'd been taking an interest in his unusual career. Now, though, he wished he hadn't said a word.
“Grace?” Marty said, unable to keep the incredulity from his tone. *“WHY* did you trap Santa?”
Grace shrugged. “I want one of his reindeer."
“You want one of his...” Marty just trailed off, staring at his step daughter in disbelief.
“He has twelve,” Grace said, defensively. “He can spare one. They're always dragging his big heavy sleigh around in the sky. I bet they're scared and frightened half the time. Imagine only being let out of the North Pole once a year. They have to fly all over the world in *one* night,” Grace said, glaring at the upside down genie. “It's a mercy none of them die!”
“You're trying to liberate a reindeer?" said Marty, unable to completely believe the words coming from his own mouth. “That's why you kidnapped Santa?”
At this point, Santa Claus began kicking and thrashing, causing the rope anchoring him to the ceiling to spin around. Santa's beard was obscuring his face for the most part, but Marty caught a glimpse of a pudgy nose and flushed cheeks.
“Grace, let him down,” Marty said sternly. “Now.”
Grace crossed her arms across her small chest.
“I'm serious, or I'll go wake your mother!”
“She's snoring and drank the stuff in the small bottle last night,” said Grace defiantly. “You won't be able to.”
This was true. Carol had sampled the sherry last night. Waking her would be a true pain in the keister. By the look of things, though, Marty had more than one pain to worry about.
Marty frowned and strode across the kitchen to peer out the window towards the tree house. There was no movement. Also, parked against the back fence was something he hadn't notice in his haste to enter the house: a majestic, intricately crafted sleigh, complete with gold trim designs and bells. Also, there were twelve reindeer harnessed to the sleigh who were grazing and drinking from the coy pond. The back of the sleigh was weighed down with sacks upon sacks of presents.
Marty stared again, the whole thing was just so surreal. He shook his head slightly and turned back to the kitchen.
“Look,” he said, “The reindeer look happy. See, that one at the front with the big red nose--”
“His name is Rudolph,” said Grace.
“Yes, well, exactly. Rudolph is eating grass. He's happy. Now let Santa down. I'll get you your own for Christmas. I thought you wanted a unicorn anyway.”
(continued in replies, it got kind of long.)
​
***
​
If you liked that, you might like more at r/josephdanielauthor | 2018-12-07T15:01:36 | 2018-12-07T14:47:06 | 66 | 23 |
[WP] Dragons and cats have much in common. They are both carnivores, both love to curl up in the sun for a quick nap, and both twitch their tails in annoyance. Unlike cats, dragons don't meow to get your attention, they just pick you up and carry you away - regardless of what your doing at the time. | A boy, no older than seven summers, sat under the massive shadow of his house. A contemplative look crossing his face with his hand rubbing his chin like his father was wont to do when thinking. Tilting his head, critical thinking of legendary proportions was taking place.
*Hmm*
*Hmm*
He continuously repeated those sounds. His brain working to fast to notice what he was doing or how his parents looked awkwardly towards him.
Though sweet smiles adorned their face at seeing their cute child act so adorable, it was still quite worrying that he would spend time thinking like an old man instead of going out to play.
But of course, little Johnny did not notice any of that.
"Dragons love to eat fishies," said Johnny in a whistful murmer. Having once seen a dragon dive into the lake near his home, he had to assume they loved fishes; or fishies as he often called them.
"Dragons love to lazy in the sun," said Johnny, a cute frown on his face. His father had warned him about being lazy, but Biggest Bluey was always being lazy.
"Dragons have fun tails," said Johnny, giggling adorably. He remembered when he kept poking Baby Bluey. Her tail was always *swooshing* and *swishing* and even sometimes *woshing!*
Thinking even harder, eyes furrowed and lips narrowed, little Johnny could only come to one conclusion. This would shake the world in its entirety, or so he believed. And like the great adventurer he was, he was the first to discover it!
Laughing out loud, startling his mom to dropping a plate and his father to slam the hammer onto his finger, little Johnny ran around the yard with his usual endless energy. For a few minutes, he kept on running having discovered something amazing.
Finding his parents on the stairs staring at him, he rushed to them to explain.
In deep breathes, Johnny pulled at his mother's dress, laughing maddly.
"Ma! Ma! Dragons are cats!!!" | Sara yawned. She yawned wide enough that her ears hurt for a few seconds after she was finished.
The sun was on it’s way to greet the horizon. The clouds were already starting to reflect the pink and oranges of the upcoming sunset, and the windows of the shops reflected the light directly into her eyes as she left the bakery. She held a large loaf of sourdough bread under her arm. It would be for her dinner, and if it came out well enough she would take what was left to her older neighbor a few yards down the path.
That was her plan. It had been here plan all day long, until she forgot that she had never picked up the stupid loaf of bread from the store. She would have been at home, stewing and relaxing, instead of walking into the blinding sun on tired legs and feet. The rest of the village was inside already.
Sara had been the last customer of the day for the bakery. She had only just slid inside before they switched the sign from open to closed.
Nevertheless, she pushed her legs forward. She had her loaf of bread, and her stomach was starting to rumble at her.
Moving across a cobblestone intersection, Sara had moved away from the market district and into the housing corner of her village. Some of the sellers lived on top of their stores, and others had small homes nestled in between the shops. A lot of the villagers lived in this section. Some, like herself, lived further out where the cobblestone became dirt and there was more room to farm.
She was glad for the chance to turn away from the setting sun, although she knew she still at least 10 minutes before she was back inside her kitchen. With her attention absorbed in her thoughts about dinner, remaining chores, and the activities of the next few days, Sara didn’t notice the large shadow that settled over her body.
It blocked out the sun entirely, like a wide tree in the summertime. A breeze moved across her body, and as gooseflesh grew upon her skin she finally looked up. The horizon held huts, grass, and a handful of other locals making their way around town. A low growling sound cause her to furrow her brows before looking up at the sky above her.
A groan escaped her throat and a moment later she felt two large sets of claws wrap around her upper body. Without thinking about it, she hugged the loaf of bread closer to her body and tucked her legs inward, making herself smaller. She closed her eyes, and rolled her head downward. There was nothing she could do until the dragon made it back to its home and set her down.
It only took a moment, but it felt like longer. The motion brought waves of motion sickness to Sara's stomach, and by the time she was set back down on the ground, her breathing had sped up to near hyper-ventilating status. Feet on the ground, her legs stretched themselves back out into a standing position. The bread was clutched her chest and eyes still closed, however.
She stayed this way, trying to get her heart rate back to a normal rhythm. She kept her eyes closed until she felt a warm and scratchy muzzle graze the side of her face. A chuckle forced its way out of her, and she opened her eyes to look at the giant creature.
“Gwen!” Sara scolded, gently. “I was on my way home to make dinner.”
Sara furrowed her brows and pouted, trying to make herself look angry at the gentle beast. If she hadn’t been so hungry she would have happily come over and given her attention. In return, her pet snorted a wisp of smoke in her direction.
Sara laughed and spoke with no play anger, “I guess I still have bread.”
/r/Beezus_Writes | 2019-04-03T06:32:57 | 2019-04-03T05:43:02 | 184 | 49 |
[WP]: The most sought woman in the town has announced that she will marry whoever can open her door with the key around her cats neck. Many have tried to catch, trap and hunt down the cat, who always escapes. You are the first to figure out they've all been doing this all wrong. | People rarely consider the consequences of the rules they set. In India, the British government was concerned about the number of cobras, so they offered a bounty for every dead cobra. What they didn't anticipate was that people would breed cobras, then kill them for the bounty.
Once the British figured out the scheme, they cancelled the bounty. The breeders now had a large stock of cobras that were worthless. So they released them.
The consequence? The population of cobras went up.
I'm thinking about this as I sit in my blind. I've been here for hours, barely moving, listening and waiting. I bet Alice never thought anyone would try this.
When she announced her intention, there was a run on the pet store. Single men bought cat food, catnip, laser pointers, and live traps. The only things they caught were possums and raccoons.
But they didn't think things through, and neither did Alice. She set the rules, and in her vanity she just said we needed the key. So here I sit, cold, tired, but alert, with my 22 rifle and scope, looking out over the landscape as the sun begins to lighten the horizon. I've been here for hours, because the best way to hunt is to get there well ahead of your prey.
​
It's been four nights, but my patience has been rewarded. A twitch of movement, and I can see Jett, her black fur gleaming, as she steps carefully across the dewy grass.
Moving slowly and quietly, I lean forward and bring my rifle to my shoulder. In the silence, the sound of my clothing's fabric moving sounds like it will alert the cat to my presence. But she doesn't notice.
The bolt is already closed, the safety off. I set my sights on Jett, aiming for the area just behind the shoulder, where the heart and lungs are. Alice, you will be mine, whatever the cost.
Jett is standing sidelong to me, presenting me with a perfect shot. My finger tightens on the trigger. "Squeeze, don't pull" is what my father taught me. "Let the shot come as a surprise to you."
I increase pressure slowly, keeping the crosshairs centered. As long as you can hold your aim, you'll hit when the gun finally fires. I'm glad that the gun will kick. The movement will disrupt my view through the scope, and I won't have to see an innocent cat fall, victim to the ego of its owner.
And Jett looks directly at me. In the silence of the morning, over the sound of my breathing and heartbeat, I hear her ask the inevitable cat question,"Prrrrt?"
I relax the pressure on the trigger. I safe my rifle and set it down. I watch as Jett goes about her morning routine, then leave my blind and return home.
I thought that I could do anything for love. I was wrong.
I would do anything for love. But I won't do that.
(Dedicated to Jett, my foster cat.) | I never understood why everyone in the village chased after Anna.
Sure. She was kind, in her mid twenties, never had a serious relationship before, gorgeous, outgoing, bubbly, sweet, courageous, honest, forgiving-
I'm starting to see it now
Being in love with Anna seemed to be a thing for all the men in town. In fact, most of my friends, especially my female friends, didn't believe me whenever I said that I had no feelings for the woman.
Most people in my town would kill to be Anna's next door neighbor. I'm not sure if she should be happy, or upset that the only man in town who wasn't head over heels for her, me, was her neighbor.
We've interacted before, but I really wouldn't call us anything more than neighbors. Even friends might be a stretch, seeing as how we only react on occasion. Like when her guests park their cars in front of my house, or her dog gets onto my yard.
In all honesty, she's not the best neighbor out there.
I mean, she's far from the worse, and I guess I'm the only one who isn't fond of seeing her half naked through her curtainless windows every morning. But she could just be more, considerate, you know?
During our occasional friendly chats, it's kind of like she expects me to start flirting with her. I guess that if I were in her shoes, having been chased after since day one of moving here, I would've expected the same. But I wouldn't be.. as pushy about as she is.
One time, I was having a barbacue, I even invited a few close friends over for the occasion. Anna poked her head over the fence, I think she was putting her dog out. "Watcha doing?" She asked me.
"Just cooking some hotdogs" I would answer. Despite her obvious attempts at subtly trying to convince me to invite her over, I would ignore them, and carry on with my day. I wasn't being rude about it. I wasn't trying to, at least.
I think it really started being annoying after she put that damn sign on her front step. The sign that said the first one to catch her stupid cat with the key around it's neck would get to marry her. What was she, eight?
Plus, she was practically giving out her housekey to random strangers. Is that stupid, or is it just me?
Ever since, crowds have been gathering in front of her house ever since. Waiting for the cat to come out of the cat flap on her front door, waiting for their chance to marry her. One day, I had just enough of the strangers parking their cars in front of my home for hours, talking loudly just outside as I attempted to sleep, or watch TV.
So I let my dog out. Not the cute, cuddly one that never barks. The mean, biting one that is practically lives downstairs at this point.
I remember letting my dog back inside after it chased off all the strangers, Anna looking at me with curious eyes through her window into mine.
I closed the blinds.
You know, I always noticed a single flaw with her instructions. The sign said, "I will marry the one to open my front door", nothing about the winner HAVING to use a key.
One day, my friends and I were all off from work. So to celebrate this rare occasion, I hosted a movie night.
Just me, Triss, Emery, John and Peter. My four closest friends, nobody else.
Peter and John arrived the latest, already bickering about Anna the moment they stepped through the door.
"Can we just agree that the three of you are obsessed with Anna, and move on?" Emery asked.
"The three of us?" I questioned.
"Oh, don't start with this again" Triss rolled her eyes. "We all know that you, and every other man in this town are in love with her. Half the women, too!"
I groaned. "If I cared that much, that door would be open by now" I shot back.
The four of them looked at me smugly. "Prove it" they all seemed to say at once.
I hated having to prove that I wasn't obsessed with Anna simply because I was male. So I plucked Triss's hairpin from her hair, ("Hey!"), and stomped outside.
The four of them watched from my living room window as I walked onto Anna's front deck. The lock on her door was old, rusty, and extremely easy to pick.
The door flew open with ease, letting the cool night air enter Anna's home. I turned on my heel and walked back towards my home, my friends watching from my window with open mouths.
As I crossed the street, I heard footsteps running down Anna's stairs. Whoops, I probably should've closed her door again. "Wait!" She called after me.
But she was too late, as she called out, I slammed my door, locking it shut.
"Now that you all know full well that I don't care about that damn woman, can we get back to the movie?" I asked. | 2019-05-01T16:58:21 | 2019-05-01T16:43:34 | 85 | 58 |
[WP] You're the unappreciated intern for a famous group of Superheroes. Your power? You can boil water. All you do is make tea for them while they laugh and drink in their hideout. Little do they know that you've got dreams of becoming the Worst Villain ever. After all, a human is over 70% water... | It didn't start this way, and I certainly didn't want it to end this way. In the beginning, I was excited for the opportunity. Who wouldn't be estatic to be around their heroes? I thought my dreams had come true - it was a path to my destiny, but ultimately the Crusaders' nightmare.
I showed signs around the normal timeframe. Once a month from 2nd to 10th grade, our teachers would send our class to the gym. Sciolios check, SUP test, eyes checked, the stuff every kid goes through. I've heard of some kids exceeding on a SUP test past 10th grade, but they typically have little power. You know, the guy who says he can control electricity and flickers the lights for the ladies, but she finds out that's max strength the next morning and bounces.
I exceeded on my test in 8th grade, and my parents bought a house 5x the size not a week later. No pressure, am I right? Not everyone is a meal ticket, not everyone makes the Crusaders, but they bet it all. I was lucky enough to get into Prestige "the Harvard of Training HighSchools," where I developed my distaste for the legacies.
Oh, your great grandma was HawkLady and every woman has followed in her footsteps, you've already secured a spot with Crusaders? How nice for you.
You don't say, HammerClaw is your uncle and you've been training with Justice Team since you were a child? No shit, you aren't stressed about graduation (if you like a B team, I mean...)
I had to earn my spot, and I earned my internship. I followed the rules then, I was honest, I worked hard. I wanted to be one of them, and I was excited to find a mentor - help me find my way! How can I use my powers for good? Should I travel the world boiling dirty water in rural areas? Or could I do more to fight crime somehow?
But that isn't what happened. See, what they told tell you on the news is, many of your favorite superheros, they are assholes. They are aggressive arrogant and antagonist. Rich dicks never put in their place because of their powers. Imagine your childhood bully can now hit 10x as hard, or turn invisible to depants you (or watch you change, ladies. Yah, I know of at least one who has done it, hes famous and you probably idolize him, too.)
On my first day, they threw away the coffee pot and put my chair in the spot. I wasn't allowed to speak, I could only say beep when a coffee was ready. Apparently the hot water heater was fairly weak, so the next week several Crusaders had me heating up water tanks before showers.
It was also around the first few days that my stress and humiliation got the better of me. Walking home, I was so angry. SO ANGRY! They thought so little of me. I was thinking of my hatred when I heard the rat screaming. I didnt want to harm a living thing, I swear, it happened so quickly.
I tried to control my anger, I tried to reach out for help, and I looked at different agencies, but then it happened. Patronizing behavior at the Crusaders I could ignore, but the harassment escalated. Some days it would be telling me how weak and pathetic I am, other days my food getting thrown away in front of me. The day I snapped, that old fuck Warrior, he had the audacity to grab my crotch. Right there, out in the open, in front of all the other Sups.
I broke. Right there like a snap. His scream was a lot like the rats. I felt arms grabbing at me, but I don't remember it really. I had tunnel vision on his twisting face, which screams roared through the cafeteria. The smell, that was tough. Dozens of bodies with the liquid evaporating out, cooking their organs. I didnt mean to kill them all, but it happened so quickly.
After an incident like that, I didnt have a choice. Even a B team like Justice Team isn't going to take a person whose killed what, 15 people? Sups to boot. I know what they are all thinking too - How do you take down someone who killed the most Sups singlehandedly BY MISTAKE.
So, then I have to think. My parents put EVERYTHING on my success, and I'm an only child so I have to take care of them. How much are people willing to pay so I don't destroy oceans? How much would they pay to keep their drinking water?
Maybe the better question, how much would a government pay me to destroy another country's water. | The leaves in the bottom of the teacup look like blood.
I think about that, of LightningGirl chugging blood for breakfast and the idea doesn’t sound unlikely. I pour tap into the copper electric kettle and stare at it. Soon enough, the water begins to boil. I watch the bubbles gurgle and pop, steam misting the inside like a windshield on a foggy wet day in the city. I think about slipping my own self into the kettle, melting me away with it. I think about the first day I found out about my superpower.
I was a toddler, maybe three or four, and my mom was cooking spaghetti. She left the pot on the stove to boil as she eagerly watched the season finale of her soaps and I sat on the dirty kitchen floor, playing with mismatched blocks. I remember hearing the water bubble, a plopping happy noise like the river outside of our house that sounds like a stifled giggle. I looked over at the pot and stared at it, enraptured by the sound. I leaned over unto my knees, feeling the dirt on the linoleum press into my kneecaps but keeping my eyes on the pot.
The bubbles rose, gurgling now like a brook, steam billowing around the closed pot like crystallized smoke. The glass lid shook and when my mother runs over to turn down the heat down, she asks aloud to herself if there was an earthquake. She turns around and she looks at my big glazed eyes. The look on her face is a question mark.
A distant pang in the back of my skull reminds my brain to stop concentrating or I’m gonna pass out. It would be a shame to not bring tea to our precious Lightning Girl.
I swirl a teaspoon of sugar into LightningGirl’s mug - a chipped mustard yellow ceramic with a red bolt - and listen to the ring of laughter coming from the hideout’s lounge. Lightning Girl - Malena - likes her raspberry tea with exactly ⅛ honey along with the sugar and I grab the teddy bear bottle. My hand gets sticky as I touch the bottle and I wipe it on the bottom of the mug before searching for a measuring spoon. I yank open a drawer, more stickiness covering the chrome silver handle. Shit, gotta clean that. I make a mental note.
I’m rummaging through spoons, ketchup packets, takeout chopsticks, ancient soy sauce packets, an electric gun, a bullethole ridden glove - God, superheroes need to Kon Marie the shit out of this drawer - as again, dried honey sticking to items like an annoying invisible spiderweb. Where the fuck do these super galactic jerks keep measuring spoons?
You’d think a measuring spoon wouldn’t matter. That I could just drop a bit of honey in her tea, stir it, and serve it to Malena and she’d be happy. You’d think.
On my first day, she asked for her raspberry tea with 1/8th honey and 2 tablespoons of sugar. I was nervous, pit stained kid with acne and a forming ulcer somewhere in the back of my abdomen from how goddamn anxious I was. I had just been released from juvenile detention - petty theft, some absences but what is school for anyway but to place me in a contrived system - and I want to impress them. My parole officer, who I find out is some sort of fat Caucasian version Nick Fury, told me about a community service job, a personal assistant with a company called HiTech Music Hero Inc., which just so happens to be the secret headquarters of The Hero League of Atlanta.
And of course, a nerdy quiet seventeen year old loser would nut his pants just to be in the presence of one superhero. Let alone two.
So, when LightningGirl, the hottest superhero who shoots lightning out of her hands - and other orifices? - who doesn’t even make eye contact with me and types on her MacBook, asks me to make her a cup of tea, I beam like a child. You bet your ass I’m gonna make her a damn good cup of tea. The one thing I didn’t account for - the honey.
The fucking honey.
When I present to her the honeyless drink, she grabbed my wrist hard, yanked me so I was inches from her beautiful, beautiful face, and she growled low enough so I could hear,”Fuck up my tea, again, intern, and you’re back in juvy.”
And that, my friends, is how I learned Lightning Girl, our favorite electric superhero, is a fucking bitch.
She let go and a spark runs up my arm like an electric current and I shake away, stumbling backwards a bit. I look down at my arm, a grayish silver imprint in the shape of a hand stinging my pale skin. The rest of the heroes in the lounge, pretended not to hear, the same kind of tension that you feel from a friend when their mom scolds them in front of you.
RockMan, (one of the new heroes from Sri Lanka, - think Hulk meets The Thing meets Terry Crews), gulps down his boiling hot coffee and turns the rap music up on the stereo system. I listen to Chance the Rapper croon about his babymama and rub my stinging arm. Their lounge is set up like a music recording studio, darkened and insulated with puffy black fluff on each wall, and the headphones around Rockman’s ears are outlandishly off kilter and too small for his giant head. The image makes me smirk, just a little, and RockMan looks at me, his deep set green eyes like an apology.
The big guy doesn’t talk much since English isn’t his first language but we bonded for a little bit when I first started interning here about a month ago. We talked about jail time, how I had to do dumbass therapy groups where we troubled teenagers sat in a circle and talked about our feelings. And how RockMan had big American army men sit around him in a circle and they talked about his involvement with the war in Iran.
With guns jabbing against his temple and his hands tied behind his back with blood soaked rope.
Both sensitive shit that we don’t like to talk about.
Anyway, the whole moment happened so fast that I thought I dreamed it. I still dream of it, dreams of Lightning Girl seducing me between red silk sheets, tangling me between her warm legs and right before I think I’m going to explode, she dips her finger in my mouth only to send jolts of energy through my esophagus until I am nothing but light and electricity.
Kinky. | 2019-07-30T17:21:26 | 2019-07-30T16:45:34 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] "Every 5000 years, the Dark Lord comes to destroy the world, and only you, the Chosen One can stop him." -said the priest. "So, do I need to get a magic sword from the Lady of the Lake?" - I asked "No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of" | "LETHAL INJECTION ADMINISTERED," came the automated voice from just underneath the button.
I blinked. Was that it?
"Wait, hold on," I paused and turned towards the priest, "You meant I just spent the last 18 years of my life training for the ultimate showdown just so the greatest evil in the universe could be killed with a few chemicals?"
"Yep," the priest, Dogstar, stretched, "Now that that's over with, do you want to get some breakfast?"
"In a second," I held up hands, stopping everything, "Was that just a test? A trick? Is he really just going to come bursting from the ground and doom us all to hell?"
Dogstar glanced at the ground, considering it, "I doubt it."
I shook my head in disbelief, "No, no, no. I want an explanation. Now!"
The priest rolled his heads and sat down, pulling a flask from his pocket. He took a quick drink then gazed at me with slight contempt. I had a feeling this might take awhile.
"Now look, when this all started hundreds of thousands of years ago, sure it was cool and tough. Quite the spectacle, honestly. The Dark Lord would put on his demonic cloak, cast hellfire meteors at everyone, and it would be absolute chaos. But, his powers didn't really count on the power of industrialization," Dogstar sighed.
"You've gotta be kidding me," I groaned.
"So we thought, 'hey, why not just put him down before he regenerates his body in his tomb, save everyone the trouble?' Now we just kill him before he wakes up."
"And all the training?"
"Well the boys and I like to have a little fun. How boring would it be if all we did was press a button every 5000 years? Sheesh. Liven up."
Unable to process any words, I took a seat next to Dogstar, and fell into existentialism as I revaluated the purpose of my life. Everything was a lie. Done and taken care of. Nothing to worry about. What would my skills possibly be useful for?
Maybe the world needed a new Dark Lord. | "Well, what are you waiting for? Press it."
I glanced back up to the priest. His arms holding out the box to me were steady, but the tension in his posture suggested a certain eagerness about him. I guess that made sense, considering his whole speech about the *Dark One* and *End of the world* and all that jazz. But still. Working at the pawn shop always made me hesitant of people who were a little too eager.
"What's it do?" I asked.
The priest let out a short exasperated sigh. "It doesn't matter. I told you, it would take me a very long time to explain, and you wouldn't believe me if I did. Right now we don't have a lot of time. Just press it."
I took half a step back. "Okay. Hold up for a sec, because this is kind of a lot. You come in here to my shop, you know my name. You do that weird magicky thing with the lights. So yeah, fine. Let's give you the benefit of the doubt that you *are* some ancient wizard or priest or whatever, and not some crazy stalker. How do I know that that box you're holding isn't just going to electrocute me or something when I press the button?"
"No, it won't. Trust me. Just press it. We don't have a lot of time lef-"
"Then *you* press it."
"I CAN'T PRES-" the priest snapped. I saw something sinister flash across his eyes, barely noticeable, yet unmistakable. He caught himself within an instant.
"I'm sorry," he continued, after a deep breath. "It's just that the fate of the world rests in your hands. I can't press the button. It has to be you. *You* are the chosen one. I know it sounds crazy, but I promise I will tell you every last detail after you press it. I will grant you anything in my power. Fame. Riches. Magic. Anything. Just press the button. Please."
I looked him in the eyes. I held his gaze for a long moment. I watched his eyes hungrily dart to the box as I slowly reached out. I watched his eyes widen as my finger hovered inches above the button.
I paused.
"10 dollars." I said, subtly adjusting my button-press gesture into a business-like finger-gun point at the goods he was holding.
"What?" he replied, flatly.
"10 dollars." I repeated, grabbing my notebook to write up the offer. "It's not typically the kind of thing I could resell here, but it's an old-looking box. Kinda cool. I'll give you 10 bucks for it."
I could see him trying to fight back the anger as it bubbled up inside him. The lights flickered.
"You have no idea the forces we're dealing with here! This isn't a game!" The shelves all around us began to rattle. "If the dark one is released, the world is doomed. He will kill *millions* of people!"
I kept writing in my notebook. I could feel the magical energy radiating off of him.
"No I won't." I replied calmly, glancing up from my notebook. Before he could fully register what I'd just said, I clicked my pen, and waved it like a wand in his direction.
The priest froze in place, a taken aback expression on his face. I stepped forward and plucked the small box from his hands. I turned it over and touched the button to one of his frozen fingers. Both priest and box swirled together, and with a *pop*, they both vanished. A miniature stone figurine in the shape of the priest clattered to the floor. I tore the perforated "$10" price label from my notebook, tied it around the tiny figure, and set it up on a shelf next to the others. | 2020-11-09T12:50:41 | 2020-11-09T12:35:03 | 949 | 422 |
[WP] You have one super power: The ability to know without fail what the truth is to any asked question. You planned to help the world as a super hero. It took you six hours for the government to declare you public enemy number one and the most deadly super villain alive. | When I walked into the hero recognition office I thought I was going to save the world; By the time I walked out I knew I would be the one to end it.
I got my superpower on the fourth of July. Some of my friends and I had gone down to the beach to light some fireworks. It was illegal of course, and dangerous, but there were enough people doing it already that one extra group wouldn’t hurt too much, at least that’s how we’d reasoned it to each other.
We’d gone pretty far down the beach to avoid the police, and we were running out of fireworks, so I drunkenly decided to launch all the rest at once for a finale. I placed the three of them in a line and started lighting one by one. To my credit, I actually succeeded, but one of them turned out to be a dud, so I did what any reasonable person would know not to do and walked up to it.
The next thing I saw was total darkness.
It’s in moments like these where you can catch a glimpse of the truth. It glowed like a firefly above me, taunting me for being human. Physicists call it the theory of everything, Plato called it “the good”, whatever you want to call it (I liked Fullmetal alchemist’s simple name: “the truth”), most have no Idea that it’s just within reach. You might see it when you sleep, or on your deathbed, or, like me, when you’ve been knocked unconscious, but it’s always just far away enough that you can never grasp it. But that day I did the one remarkable thing in my entire life — at least besides the things that were remarkably stupid— and caught it mid-flight.
I woke up with my girlfriend Ariella standing over me, her lips pressed thin with anxiety. I felt the rough sand beneath me and realized that I must not have been out for very long. When she saw that I was awake, she stormed off. Two of my friends, Zach and Daniel, were in a heated argument about whether the police should be allowed to put you on hold, which I gathered was why I was still on the beach. When they noticed that I was awake, they scurried over.
“I can’t fucking believe you did that,” said Zach
I looked over at them and with a straight face said
“You know, the reason why they put you on hold is that the calling center was overwhelmed. if you had called two minutes earlier then an old man would have died of a heart attack.”
After a moment or two of puzzled looks, they both burst into laughter.
“And how would you know?”
I looked at the sky. It was true, that statement was absurd, and yet I’d felt so confident about it. I looked back at Zach and Daniel.
“Ok, this is going to sound weird, but I want you guys to ask me something I would have absolutely no way of knowing”
Daniel was the first to respond.
“alright; what’s up with her”, he pointed with his thumb at Ariella smoking a cigarette in the distance.
“She’s upset because I barely talked with her for two weeks and then pulled some shit like this. She’s thinking about breaking up because I’m too erratic and she’s pulling too much weight in the relationship and it’s starting to feel one-sided” I replied almost instantly.
Daniel stared wide-eyed while Zach looked from me to Ariella and back repeatedly. The scene would’ve made me laugh had I not just learned that my girlfriend was thinking about breaking up with me.
It was Zach who responded next:
“So we can ask you...anything?”
I looked up at him, shaken. “I think so”
Three months later I was on my way to the official hero recognition office to announce my power. By then I’d figured out that I could answer written questions and by extension, ask myself anything, meaning that I had all the knowledge in the universe.
Almost shaking with excitement, I entered the building. This was it. I was going to meet all the heroes I’d grown up idolizing. I was greeted instead by a middle-aged bureaucrat in a suit: first I had to prove that my power existed. More people pretend they have powers than one would think, They made an entire government agency to regulate it.
And so I was herded past the gymnasium area, where I could see people performing various superhuman feats, and into a small room with a desk, where I was seated in front of yet another middle-aged government official, though this one had whiter hair.
The first question he asked was how I found out about my power, and so I answered.
His brow furrowed. In hindsight, I should’ve seen this coming, science has already documented how powers exist, and mine is an irregularity, to say the least.
“You say you can answer any question”
I nodded my head. They had tests prepared ahead of time, at least for the most interesting reports.
“What’s in the safe behind me”
“An eco-drive men’s chronograph with a satellite wave f900 GPS and a forty-nine-millimeter blue leather strap.” I didn’t need to give all that detail, but I wanted to impress, and, while I can’t manipulate the answers I give, they can be influenced by what I want to accomplish.
The man massaged his beard.
“Alright, what is the largest threat to human survival?”
Without hesitation and with complete confidence I repeated my own [name](https://www.reddit.com/r/Salad_Snack/) | The thing about knowing the answer to any question is that there’s actually one question that I don’t know the answer to. That is, I haven’t the slightest damn clue how I got this power.
I’m serious. You might think I was born this way, or maybe was caught in some industrial accident or was born of twisted scientific experiments, or perhaps even I was gifted by some celestial being.
Nope. I woke up on some Tuesday at the tender age of 32 years and 241 days and I just *knew* things. I first realized it when, upon realizing I was late for work and couldn’t find my keys, I muttered “Where are those damn keys?” to myself.
And suddenly, like flipping on a light switch, I knew exactly that they had been dropped and kicked underneath a shelf just out of sight. I knew exactly how far away they were from me down to the hundredth of an inch. Hell, I even knew their exact latitude and longitude. I had never known *more* about where my keys were.
The explosion of information was, surprisingly, not even close to overwhelming. Not only did I know all of that, I was capable of dealing with the knowledge, of processing it and using it.
That isn’t to say that it made me any smarter. After all, it took me a week to realize the full extent of my abilities.
For the first day, I thought I just knew the exact locations of objects. Granted, this is a particularly useful ability for my career as a librarian, but only now do I realize how much I limited myself.
The second day, someone asked me what books we had on the proliferation of invasive species of seaweed and their impacts on freshwater fish. It’s the sort of topic that people expect librarians to know offhand, or at least be able to find the requisite books with one carefully worded query in our magic book finding computers. I, of course, knew better; normally, I was barely aware of what books were in the same room as me, and the database at my disposal was identical to the ones on computers scattered about the library.
And yet, I knew. I knew exactly what books there were on invasive species and where they could be found and who wrote them. My abilities even leaped past that and jumped straight into giving me a list of scientific articles available to the library. It was as if their very titles were being printed into my mind as I spoke.
On day four, I began to appreciate the true breadth of the knowledge at my disposal. It was a child’s question, of course. Only a child could have expected an adult to know the minute details of every last question they might have. And why not? I can even remember back to my elementary school days when we were told that libraries held every bit of information the human race knew, and librarians were the gatekeepers of those sacred tomes. It was that childlike fascination that had led me to this career path in the first place, after all.
Now, I knew better, but I understood the motive behind the question that, while superficially simple, was truly complicated:
“Mister library man, why is the sky blue?”
A question as old as time itself, of course. The answer jumped to my lips, practically unbidden:
“Why, Rayleigh scattering!”
It was an unsatisfactory answer for the poor kid, but to me, it felt as though an entirely new aspect of my abilities had been unleashed.
On day six, I made a resolution.
“I will make the world a better place.”
It was a simple premise. If knowledge is power (and I can confirm that it very much is), then I must be the most powerful being alive, and if old Uncle Ben is to be believed, then with that power came the responsibility to use it for the greater good.
I was so naive back then. It never occurred to me what the greater good might be, or how I might even go about making the world a better place. Instead, my mind was filled with thoughts of superheroes in well-tailored spandex suits and black leather kicking ass and taking names while I starred as Professor X in the chair with the knowledge and power to keep them in charge and fighting evil.
That very Monday, six days after receiving my power, I began to fight crime.
I wandered the streets aimlessly, only stumbling across the occasional mugger or jaywalker. The first person I tried to stop nearly beat me into the pavement because despite my mind knowing how to fight, my body did *not* know how to fight.
I laid there on the ground, groaning at the aches and pains. “How do I fight crime?”
As with any question, the answer came to me immediately. *Use your knowledge, not your physical prowess.*
Of course. Maybe I could use my abilities to dream up schematics of cool tech and gadgets, like a middle-aged slightly overweight James Bond.
Then I hesitated. I pushed myself into a sitting position and leaned against the bricks of the building behind me. The sky overhead was dark and seemingly void of stars as I pondered my next question:
“What crime should I be fighting?”
*True evil.*
The answer was vague, far more so than most previous answers had been. I knew I was playing with fire, that philosophical quandaries held answers not meant for human minds to know. But I *had* to know. I progressed carefully, trying to be sure that I wouldn’t stumble upon an answer I didn’t want to know.
“Are criminals the true evil that I should be fighting?”
*No.*
I felt a knot of anxiety form in my stomach. Already, I was in over my head.
“Should I be fighting evil foreign governments that would start a world war?”
*No.*
“Should I be fighting for justice, tearing down oppressive institutions that would bleed the working class for profit while they live in luxury?”
*No.*
I blinked several times. The streetlights buzzed overhead, setting my teeth on edge.
“Is true evil a religious figure, like Satan? Should I be fighting demons and hell and preaching forgiveness for the people?”
*No.*
I had to know. I didn’t want to ask, but I had to know.
“What is true evil?”
I fell unconscious in the blink of an eye. But though my body lay motionless on the ground, my mind raced through infinity, filled with visions of atrocities and horrors that I dare not repeat here.
My story ends here, as far as you are concerned. I know that not all will read this, though many will be curious as to why I turned into a supervillain mere moments after my heroic career began. It is my goal that some of you will understand why I do what I do and make my job easier. It is not an undertaking that I begin lightly.
They will come for us. They will ruin us. We cannot run, cannot hide, cannot fight. There is no hope left for us. Instead, consider that sometimes, when the end is near, the best choice is to make it come as quickly and painlessly as possible.
So consider this my apology note to humanity. You will not forgive me now, and you will not be alive to forgive me later.
But when later arrives, when *they* arrive, and they find the burning husk of a world not worth their efforts, I will know I made the right [choice](https://reddit.com/r/Badderlocks). | 2020-11-30T14:34:23 | 2020-11-30T12:59:18 | 2,294 | 1,396 |
[WP] You are in possession of two exceptionally cursed rings. One that teleports you to a random location exactly 100 ft away every half hour, and one that narrates your life. You're not sure which ring you hate more. | *Myles Mythril didn’t collect cursed jewelry for reasons of practicality. He collected them because he was the hottest freestyle bard this side of Eight League Road, and flashing cursed bling was a signature of his brand.*
Kat, the whitest mage in the group, shot her companion an exasperated look. “Myles, will you take that damned thing off? That narrator is driving us all insane.” The wide dirt road stretched out before them, twisting back and forth across the rolling green hills before diving down into the sands of Dire Cover. She looked down at the map and groaned. It would be at least ten hours before they reached their destination.
The bard shook his head. “Nah. Cursed bling is my jam. Does Fifty-Silver take off his silver gauntlets? Does Adultish Paladino take off his holy golden crucifix? Does Dragon-Hoard Digger take off her -”
There was a faint pop and Myles disappeared out of existence. He landed a split-second later in the foliage on the side of the road 100 feet away, his limbs sprawled in four different directions. He jumped up to his feet, brushing twigs out of his red velvet jumpsuit, and sprinted back towards the party.
*The rest of the party was starting to grow tired with the trials and tribulations of Myles’ excessively thug lifestyle. It would surely test the mettle of their companionship as they attempted their quest to slay the Grumple Bungdinger.*
Kat’s temple started to pulse. “Myles, take them off! We have to kill a dangerous monster by nightfall. This thing turned Ash the Brash into Ash the Thrashed. You’re a liability!”
“Yeah yeah, I know, the narrator already explained that.” Myles grimaced, picking wildflowers out of his hair. “Look, I know it’s bad and I'm sorry for that. But even if I wanted to take these things off, I couldn’t. I'm contractually obligated. *Bard Hard Guild* is sponsoring me to wear this whenever I’m out in public or places of heavy traffic flow, and major roadways like this qualify.”
Dominic the rogue shot him a half smile. “Just take ‘em off mate. They won’t know.”
Myles shook his head. “Actually, they will. He flicked the large studded silver earring on his left lobe. This guy lets them keep tabs on me and all affiliated products of the guild.”
"Why are you even on this quest?" the white mage asked. "Don't you already make tons of money from these idiots?"
Myles smiled. "Check the bounty posting again. There's a priceless, cursed necklace reward in the loot box for killing this thing."
"Oh god," Carter the paladin said. "What's this one do?"
Myles smiled. "It make us 50% more likely to encounter mosquitos."
Kat crossed her arms. “That’s it. Party vote. I vote we ditch him.”
*Katarina was conflicted in her feelings about Myles. She knew she didn’t have the votes to expel the dragon-fire spitting bard from her ranks. Her show of disapproval was simply an unconscious attempt to resist his foolishly debonair charm. Though she would never admit it, she had been impressed by the bard’s savage lyrical bars and career ending freestyle enchantments that had helped them defeat the gang of merciless orc-lords, and sometimes still caught herself humming his sonnets -*
“Shut! Up!”
“I vote stay,” said Dominic. “I don’t mind the narrator. Makes the whole thing feel a bit larger than life. It's kind of like having your own hype man.”
“I vote stay,” said Carter. “Myles is my boy.”
“I vote -” Myles broke off as he popped out of existence.
“Stay!” his voice yelled back from beyond the hills.
***
[Read Part 2 here!](https://redd.it/lpbd17)
***
My personal subreddit for other stories: /r/ghost_write_the_whip | "Hey, it's your turn," said the red-headed woman behind me in line at the coffee shop.
"Oh right, thanks." I had been zoning out, and I brought myself back to the present, glancing at the menu above the barista before ordering a medium hot coffee with caramel syrup.
"*Caramel syrup!*" The voice in my headphones rang out. "*Get a load of this guy! He can't even drink coffee without turning it into some kind of dessert!*"
No one else could hear the voice. It emanated from the ring, one of the two I wore on my right hand, and if I hadn't been wearing the headphones, it would have blared out for the whole coffeeshop to hear. Mercifully, the wizard who gave me the rings had infused them with some sort of bluetooth-inspired spell to let me keep the voice to myself.
I found a place to stand off to the side of the coffee bar, and after she ordered, the red-headed woman came up and stood next to me.
"Sorry for spacing out for a second there." I mumbled to her.
"*Look at the big man striking up a conversation! Good luck with that one!*" The voice in my headphones laughed, but I ignored it.
"No problem at all. It happens to me all the time." She looked me in the eyes and smiled. "You actually inspired me to get caramel syrup in my coffee. I needed to add some flavor to my day."
"Oh really? That's funny. One of my, um, friends likes to make fun of me for getting caramel."
As I thought about the ring, it suddenly occurred to me that I needed to check the time on my watch. I had rigged the digital device to repeat a 30-minute countdown so I could know when it's going to happen, the second magical curse the wizard had given me with his other ring. To my dismay, the watch read 1:30, and as I looked at it, it ticked down to 1:29 and 1:28.
I needed to find a place to hide. I had realized early on that I couldn't let myself disappear in front of crowds of people. Someone was always bound to notice, especially when I was talking to another person, like this cute redhead.
"Sorry, I've got to run to the bathroom." I stammered away before she could respond. When I got to the one solo bathroom in the coffee shop, I found it locked. Shit, I muttered to myself. I turned and looked around. The only exit to the coffee shop required me to walk back past the redhead, but I didn't have another choice.
I put my head down and raced back out the door, avoiding eye contact with her.
"*Awkward Alex strikes again!*" The voice shouted. "*This idiot didn't even check his watch before he started talking to a woman. At this rate, he'll be alone forever!*"
I rushed into a back alley behind the coffeeshop where no one could see me. The countdown on my watch hit :05, and I closed my eyes and braced myself.
I felt my stomach jump, like that weightless moment after you reach the top of the roller coaster, and when I opened my eyes I was standing in a park, a few blocks away from the coffeeshop. I looked around, and everyone in the park was minding their own business, reading books or talking with their companions, and no one had noticed me appear.
I had found over the three months of wearing these rings that people were less likely to notice someone appear out of nowhere than they were to be shocked when someone they were looking at suddenly disappears. I guess if they saw me after I appeared, they just assumed they had looked away or blinked and not noticed me walk up.
I broke into a fast walk, trying to make it back to the coffee shop in time to talk to that woman again. She might have just been acting friendly, but the way she smiled when she looked in my eyes made me feel like she could be into me. She might be the best chance I have of reversing the curses, I thought to myself.
"*Look at this guy! He appears out of nowhere and all of the sudden he's got places to be! He thinks he's still got a chance with that girl! What a loser!*"
The wizard had offered me magical rings on a cloudy Sunday morning, after I had finished eating breakfast at a diner by myself, as I usually do. He told me I could only have the rings if I agreed to wear them before knowing how their magical powers worked. I put them on, and as soon as I realized they were stuck on my fingers, the wizard disappeared.
One week later, when I was thoroughly fed up with my newfound magical rings, the wizard appeared again to ask me how I was liking them. I, of course, told him that I hated the rings, and I asked him how I could get rid of them. The words he told me still rang in my ears three months later.
"In order to get rid of the rings, Alex, you must do the one thing you fear. You must make a meaningful connection with another human being."
I had known I was awkward and a bit of a loner, but hearing a wizard tell me I had no meaningful human connections definitely stung. But now I had my chance. That woman, with a single comment, had acted nicer to me than anyone else had since I put on the rings.
I burst open the door to the coffee shop. The woman was gone.
I turned back out and looked for her on the sidewalk, but she was nowhere to be found. Feeling deflated, I grabbed my coffee and sat down alone in the shop.
"*Just another day for Awkward Alex!*" The voice laughed. "*Will he manage to make a friend tomorrow? Stay tuned to find out!*" | 2021-02-21T09:04:08 | 2021-02-21T08:50:36 | 1,452 | 145 |
[WP] There's a door with a single key hole - it will open regardless of what key is used. All keys open this door, but what's on the other side, however, entirely depends on the key. | No one was surprised by the almost featureless cube of concrete about 8-feet high that appeared in Times Square one morning. Many were perturbed that it was in their way as they were on their to work. Or on their way to get coffee and a B/E/C on a roll before work. Most just assumed it was some promotional display for some new cable show. Maybe it would crack asunder at noon or something would pop out of its door during the evening rush.
It was the local officers who patrolled Times Square who questioned its appearance first. Nobody on the midnight shift reported the thing being offloaded. Calls went out to Midtown South to see if anyone had filed permits for the thing.
Officers Patricia Gomez and Edward Greco waved the office workers and the early rising tourists onward, directing them to use the other side of the street. Gomez admired the elaborate molding around the door, and the large iron hinges on the solid oak door. Greco carefully set a gloved hand on the ornate knob and turned it. The door was locked.
Gomez looked up, and noticed something etched on the lintel overhead. Leaning forward on her toes, she read out the words, "Choose your key wisely."
Greco scratched his head. "What do you suppose that means?"
"That it's a trick lock?" his partner suggested.
"Looks like a plain old lock from a hundred years ago. The kind you open with a skeleton key."
A third police officer approached, holding such a key in his hand. "Way ahead of you. I just swung by the hardware store on 43rd and 11th." Officer Daniels approached the lock. The key slid in easily and turned with an audible click.
Gomez and Greco stepped back, each placing a hand at their holster, while Daniels heaved the door open. When nothing emerged, Daniels pulled out a flashlight to illuminate the interior. There were skeletons sitting on the floor, dozens of them, in a space that seemed deceptively larger than it should have.
"What movie is this?" Daniels asked to no one in particular. "If there some kind of Jason and the Argonauts remake happening?" He half-laughed at the thought of it.
He full-cried when the first line of skeletons stood up, followed by the ones behind that. And more behind those. Impossibly, a dozen of more rows of skeleton, at least fifteen across, stood at the ready. At some unheard command, they all snapped to attention. Then they all took their first step forward in unison.
Daniels felt every ounce of that solid oak against his shoulder as he tried to shove it closed. Gomez and Greco both leapt forward, throwing their weight against the portal, until it shut. They stood there, backs against it, feet planted firmly on the sidewalk.
"Lock it!" Greco screamed. "Lock the damn thing."
Daniels, his heart pounding in his chest and his pulse thumping in his neck, was once again, ahead of his junior officer. He turned the key back the other way and yanked it free. He put it in his pocket for safe keeping. "What the hell was that?" he asked, not expecting an answer.
The three officers stood there for a few moments as oblivious tourists and office workers continued to file by, not giving them much of a second glance, like they were just so many costumed characters waiting for pictures.
When Gomez had caught enough of her breath to speak, she looked up at the etched words again. "Maybe we should've tried a different key?" | [Part 1 of 2]
A door that will lead you to an unknown destination. Many scholars spoke about its magic, but I never believed the tales. I was a man of science and science rarely mixes well with farfetched tales, yet the shimmering glow of its golden doorframe was unmistakable, a keyhole awaiting a key, beckoning me to unlock it.
I hesitated, constantly looking over my shoulder, grimacing as the hot pain swirled through my stomach, the markings of a deep knife wound cut into my shirt. What option did I have? I needed to run or get slaughtered. My pursuers would be after me soon. Whatever remained on the other side had to be more friendly than the angry soldiers. Still, I couldn’t believe it. The legends were true.
My hand rested on the frame, feeling the intense power running throughout, showing itself in small vibrations that teased my hand. “The door finds those who can use its services.” That never made sense to me. Surely anyone has a key. What other requirement is there to use the door? My awe of the door vanished as heavy footsteps descended into my basement.
“What the bloody hell is that? A magic door? Told you he was working with the witches.” The soldier readied his blade, the men at his side pausing, experiencing that same awe I had felt recently.
“I am a man of science; I don’t believe in magic.” It felt stupid to say such a thing. Magic was the only word I could use to describe the door. I was just so used to screaming that phrase in my defense as they chased me down the streets. Saying anything different felt wrong.
As I spoke, my fingers searched for a key, finding my house key in my pocket. Inserting it into the keyhole, twisting it. When the door opened, the heavy footsteps thumped down the remaining stairs, nearly catching me, missing me by a moment as I pushed through the golden abyss. As my body passed through the door, the area behind me shut, leaving me in darkness for a moment before a room flashed into existence.
“Ah, dearest nephew, you look terrible, how goes your studies? Your mother did mention you were becoming famous, clearly famous enough that someone tried to take a piece of you with them.” He gestured to the cut, flashing me a smile.
The room appeared to be a study, rather clean, with only a few odd books disturbing its sterile look. Its wooden furniture far from dated, looking as modern as one could find. The bookshelves towered over me, looming in the study's background. As much as I would have loved to take in the sights, I already felt faint, pulling myself onto one of the nearby chairs, slouching into it.
“Nephew? I don’t think we have met. How would I know someone that lives in a magical door?” My hands pushed against the wound, applying pressure as best I could, watching the man snap a book shut, standing from his chair.
He had a skip in his step, looking happy to have some company, wandering over to my side, dressed like a peasant trying to disguise themselves as nobility. Their clothing matching the extravagant red and blues without having that same defining quality.
“Lives in a magical door? No one lives in the door; it simply sends you to a location based on several variants. I don’t fully understand it, but my current theory is that it works based on memories and bloodlines. You must have some memory of being safe here, that would explain why the door chose this in your time of need.”
“Impossible. I don’t even know who you are. My parents would have mentioned a strange uncle if I had one. You are telling me I have been here before? I remember none of it.”
He held his chest, faking a wound of his own. “You wound me, dear nephew. I understand I was distant, but we had some good times together. Do you want some help with that nasty wound of yours? I believe I have a bandage lying around somewhere.”
“A bandage won’t do anything. How can a man with so many books not know something so simple? Help me to a doctor or someone that can help me.”
“You appear in my house and insult me. You are just like your father; It was a joke. A jest to lighten the mood. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. Forgive me for being excited.”
Before I could speak, he leaned in close, gripping the area around my wound, his fingers turning blue as he pulled the skin closed, the pain excruciating, causing me to kick at him, but no matter how many times my boot hit his chin, he refused to budge until finally releasing it as the wound shut, leaving me to fall off the chair, onto the floor.
“I would have caught you if you didn’t kick me. I might be the one that needs a doctor now.” He rubbed his fingers over his stubbled chin, wiping away the various dirt marks.
“C-could have warned me.” It was hard to speak. I felt winded, like I had lost all the air in my lungs only to then be repeatedly stomped after it.
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/nwk8t4/wp_theres_a_door_with_a_single_key_hole_it_will/h19smbq/) | 2021-06-10T07:16:33 | 2021-06-10T05:21:09 | 129 | 33 |
[WP] In a world where reincarnation with a full knowledge of your past life is real, authorities struggle to protect society by keeping the worst criminals and serial killers in prison alive for as long as possible to delay their eventual escape back into society via the reincarnation process. | Julia looked over the array of suspects. Twelve babies and a goat.
"Careful, one of them is a serial killer," she said to the nurses and the farmer. "I've been chasing The Cycle Killer through four lives."
What she did not say was that it was her fault that they had escaped again. Five minutes without being watched, and Cycle had managed to die, just to be reincarnated to do it all over again.
It had taken the spooks three months to narrow down these suspects. Julia understood that the babies were all born at the right time, and near one of the reincarnation nexus points that aligned with Cycle's death. The goat was a less likely suspect, but just the sort of thing they might try.
The first baby grabbed her finger when she looked into its eyes. The second baby tried to eat her entire hand. Julia wasn't sure if that was latent cannibalism or just normal baby stuff. The third baby ignored her, trying to find it's rattle hidden under its blanket. On down the line she went, examining each one.
The nurses thought it was the eighth baby, who had never cried. It had been born to a rich family, just the sort of target that the Cycle Killer looked for. Most of the rest had poor families.
The farmer thought it was the goat. Julia was pretty sure he just wanted to be able to sell the goat to her.
In the end she decided to keep the eighth baby and the goat for further observation. If one of them proved to be the killer, they would spend the next two decades in a rehabilitation and therapy clinic. The rest could go home for occasional checkups.
The nurses started handing babies back to relieved parents. The first baby was sleeping now. The second baby was still trying to eat every hand. The third had found its rattle.
She turned to leave when it struck her. The third had found its rattle, hidden under the blanket. She ran after that family.
A three month old had been looking for something that it could not see, and object permanence did not normally develop until around eight months.
She took the baby. As she looked into its eyes she said, "Got you, motherfucker!" | “Well what if their consciousness never died?”
That was the idea at least. Maybe there was someway to… save their memories. Extract them. To remove their consciousness from the physical and upload it to the technological. It had been done in sci-fi. Could it be done for real?
We had no knowledge of how the soul worked in this world. Well, very little. What we did know is that they were recycled. Once a person died, their soul would leave their body and reincarnate in a newborn.
I had lived many lifetimes in this… this… world and finally I might have made a working solution. I punched the air as the machines around me buzzed and whirred. I simply needed… a test subject.
The clouds covered the moon. A man walked down the pavement. The sound of a tin can bouncing echoed across encroaching buildings as the man kicked it with his feet. The road went silent again as I held a cloth across his face. Holding him until he went to sleep. Perfect.
I rushed back to my laboratory and strapped him down to a chair. His screeches pierced the air as I inserted the necessary implements through his cranium. The room flashed a deep red as the power diverted from the brighter overheads to small back up LEDs. The shadows danced as I flicked a switch. Lightning crackled down the wires casting bright flashes of blue and yellow intermittently as the subjects screams faded away. Beautiful.
The solution was slightly inelegant and improvements could be made, however it seemed to be working. I watched a small screen. The world I created, the fake bodies, the fake world I had made. And watched as a child was born. This man, reborn in a new world and he’d never know it. Now his new home for the rest of eternity.
Slowly the old algorithms would be phased out. Replaced by these new ones the complexities of the the human mind. Better ones. Ones that couldn’t properly be imitated. Eventually everyone would end up here. Time wearies all souls. No man can remain good forever.
I had to act quickly. While, at the moment, nothing would seem wrong. The other algorithms weren’t built to learn. I would have to provide more souls. More minds. I realised that I had no conclusive evidence as to whether memories were stored upon upload. Whether you actually retained your past lives knowledge. But I had no way of testing it. It didn’t matter now. The process was too far through. I’d lost track of how many men, women and children I’d heard screaming throughout my lifetimes. 100s, 1000s. Some good, some evil. I didn’t know anymore. All that mattered was they wouldn’t come back to life here anymore.
I worked at it slowly over the next few decades. But one can’t hide a trail forever. I hid the main servers. Somewhere hopefully they would never be found and uploaded victims from remote uplinks. Random without care. This world needed a population. Eventually however, the police caught on. I took my own life before they could find me.
I escaped them for multiple lifetimes but the net was closing in. I couldn’t risk all my work falling into the wrong hands. The system was sustainable. The minds were being recycled, each new generation the algorithms grew. Bigger, deeper. I had made connections in my world, they would maintain project Afterlife, as I had since named it. But it was my time now too. To finally go to the Afterlife, a place they wouldn’t ever find me. I wish this day didn’t ha s to come. But I guess I had to atone for my sins. So I did. I went to the Afterlife.
—————————
70 years later…
I lived in a world where incarnation was possible. I had witnessed it, heard of it. Criminals being captured for life and then simply returning to cause more havoc the next. It was unsustainable. Their consciousness dying and being reborn. It was endless I thought. Until one day I realised…
“Well what if their consciousness never died?” | 2021-10-08T08:55:06 | 2021-10-08T08:51:29 | 151 | 25 |
[WP] This year you decide to walk through a haunted house for fun. Instead of running into your typical ghosts, zombies, or even killer clowns, you find it’s your deepest regrets. You are forced to relive moments from your past that have haunted you and you’re all alone. The only way out is forward. | Warning: This one is sad and full of regret.
It wasn't that surprising to me that the first room of the haunted house looked like a second grade classroom. The school was running the haunted house to raise money for new band uniforms. What was surprising to me was that it looked like *my* second grade classroom, decorated for the party on the last day of school, the party I'd missed due to the chicken pox.
"Mom, this haunted house isn't scary, it's boring." Julia was already having trouble standing still. She wanted to go off looking for candy.
"You wanted to do the haunted house. Some of your classmates put a lot of work into this."
Next to us the sign said "Last Exit" in red marker made to look like blood. We went onward. In the next room the door slammed behind us, a pretty good effect as I hadn't seen the kid controlling it.
This room was just a single girl in a chair. She looked like a sixth grader, and she was crying. "Are you alright, honey?" I said working my way through fake cobwebs to get to her. One stuck to my face and by the time I cleared it she was gone. Sitting on the chair was an old birthday invitation. It looked familiar. "Well, Julia, that was a little creepy, right? Let's keep going."
There was only one path. The next room was dark with flashing lights. Blue and red, like a police car. I heard groaning before I could make out anything. They'd managed to bring an entire car into the school, wrecked and mangled. A shiver ran down my spine and I looked for an exit, but the only path was past the driver's side. There was a teenage boy strapped to an immobilization board, only his eyes were moving. It looked a lot like-. "Come on Julia, let's keep going."
I edged around to the next exit. A teenage girl knelt in my way, sobbing. "It's not my fault. It's not my fault." Her hair was just like mine. I rushed past.
The next room was filled with red Solo cups. So many that only a narrow walkway was left open. I don't know how they made the room smell like it did. It reminded me of college. This room wasn't so bad, but I felt the need to lecture Julia about drinking. There was a set piece with three actors near the exit, two boys and a girl in Halloween costumes. The girl and one of the boys were dressed in matching Harry Potter costumes. The other looked like Tarzan. He barely needed a costume to pull it off. The girl waited until I saw her then downed her cup and left with Tarzan.
The next was a wedding. This room wasn't so bad, almost funny. A waiter played by a first grader cleared a plate of uneaten food from the bride's table place. I knew she'd be hungry later, I'd done the same thing. I couldn't bring myself to look at the groom.
"This way to Exit," said another fake blood sign.
"Finally, Julia. Let's go." I grabbed her hand and hurried on.
There was one final room, the school's gym. The floor was removed to expose the swimming pool. I hadn't known they had a swimming pool. I hated pools. I'd avoided them ever since-. Suddenly I whipped around. Where was she? I was watching her, goddamnit. She was just here. I'd only looked away for a second.
I couldn't look in the water. I know what I'd see.
Julia would have been nine this year. | When I entered the house a wooden sign dropped from the ceiling, but hung in place in strings as they got pulled taut.
"The door has closed behind you. The only way out is through." The board stated as it swung haphazardly.
I looked behind and sure enough, the doors slammed shut on cue. The sound sent a shiver of thrill down my spine. A feeling of fear and excitement I had not felt since... I don't know when.
I walked forward into the living room, and felt the world shift. As if I had stepped into a scene from a painting, or a memory. I looked around the new living room.
No. It was not a new living room. It was my living room. From an old apartment I lived in.
This was my memory. I took another tentative step, and suddenly I was not in control of myself anymore. I panicked, unable to control my body as it took more steps unsteadily. My vision felt a little hazy.
No. I remembered this day. I was drunk this day. That was not an excuse. But... Why could I not move my body‽ I tried to look around, but even my eyes wouldn't focus on anything but what my body wanted them to focus on.
I was trapped in my own mind. Aware of everything. Unable to control anything.
And I knew what was going to happen next.
I reached towards the TV console, pushing aside the modem and router. I reached into my pocket for the magnet. It's cold touch chilled me.
"Don't... Don't do it." I wanted to tell myself.
But I couldn't.
My drunken past self fumbled with the magnet, and slid it randomly across a section of the top of the TV console until...
Until I heard a click. A hidden latch that can only be moved by a strong magnet.
I slid the secret compartment out, and could feel my lips curling into a smile.
"You fucking idiot!" I wanted to pull my brain out of this idiotic body.
But instead I just wanted to get this over with.
"Turn around, fucker. Turn around and face the music." I thought to myself.
Because behind me would be my best friend. My childhood friend. My buddy of almost two decades who I was rooming with. And he'd catch me red-handed stealing his secret cash.
And as my body turned to look at the horrified and disappointed friend of mine, my mind went numb. This was the day my only friendship ceased. When I lost my rock and confidant.
And it was all my doing. My dumbfuck assholery.
I blamed the alcohol for a while for my attempt to steal from someone who trusted me so implicitly. But that was a lie. The thought was always there. The alcohol just made me braver.
I could never meet him in the eye again after that. Even thinking of him makes me feel so ashamed.
And now I was here, stammering and slurring my excuses as he only watched, his eyes turning cold.
I hated this. I wanted to walk away.
And suddenly I could. I could move my eyes, I could control my body. I took a step back from my friend, and the scene shifted again to the vast, larger living room of the haunted house.
Immediately I went to the front door. I had to get out.
But to no one's surprise, the door would not budge. I heard the creaking of the wooden sign behind me. Eye level. Swinging as though there was a breeze.
"The only way out is through."
I sighed, and went to the other side of the living room, to a smaller room.
And suddenly the scene shifted again, and I lost control of my body again.
This time I was in a laundry room. And I could see the cheap washing machine and my basket full of old clothes that needed washing.
When was this? What was happening? This was another apartment. The one I lived on before the one I did in the last memory.
And then it hit me. And suddenly I could move my head.
But just my head.
My body still absentmindedly tossed in my shorts one at a time into the machine, not even checking to see what was happening.
But now I could. Because now I could move my head.
No.
I don't want to see this.
But I had to.
This day I had fucked up so bad.
Because I had not even noticed my cat jumping in as I loaded my clothes.
I saw him, and I could feel the numbness setting in. I was trapped in this memory. This moment. I could do nothing. Moving my head to be able to see it happen was a cruel, cruel punishment.
I saw him circling the dirty clothes that had fallen into the floor. I saw him jump into the open machine. I saw my hands throwing more clothes inside, not even realising what I was doing.
And then I closed the door.
And suddenly I could control my body again.
I immediately took a step forward to push the stop button on the washing machine. But just as I moved the world shifted back into the haunted house.
No. No more.
I could not do this.
I did not know how to get to the back door. I did not know how many more rooms I had to cross. I did not know what other horrors to expect.
Tears in my eyes, I moved to the next room. | 2021-10-14T08:15:11 | 2021-10-14T07:33:05 | 151 | 25 |
[WP]: every human being is born with a birthmark signifying a great deed they are fated do in their lives. Your first child has just been born, with the mark of a murderer across her face | I looked my son in the eye and told him firmly, as I had this day for the last 12 years, “It is not your fault, you didn’t kill her. Anyone who says differently doesn’t understand what happened, now blow out your candles, we’ll visit the grave after cake and presents.” | "She's so pretty. Which one is that?"
"Hold on." I took the book of marks from the table where the nurse had left it, flicking through the index. Pale brown, left side of the face, just below the corner of the eye to the edge of the nose in a C shape. Page 233.
"It's kind of like that one on your leg."
"No - hers is backwards." Wait. No. No, it can't be. "Holy shit."
"What?" She looked afraid.
"Uh - nothing. I don't know if this edition has it. It's an older one." I set it back on the table, the lamp shining against the damning words on 233. "Could I hold her for a while?" She passed our daughter to me and I cradled her head in my arms. The first and last time.
"Where are you going?" I walked out the door without a word. "Michael?"
The door snapped shut and I walked through the tears and down the hall, my daughter sleeping snuggled in my arms. The halls were mostly empty, only the few late-night nurses shuffling around between the rooms. The fewer to see, the better.
EXIT glowed a sign above the stairwell. Big, heavy firedoor. It was loud. I looked down. No one else on the stairs. The 22nd floor. I held her out. Plenty. No hesitation. I must. The door banged shut again and I went back down the hall.
I opened her door without our daughter. She had the book of marks in her hands, open to page 233. "Bastard!" she screamed.
"I had to." The tears choked my voice. "You can see what she was."
"This is you!" She shoved her finger to the page, pointing at the title MURDER. "Monster!"
"No, no, no! I have innovator! The backwards C!"
"Bastard! Liar!" She threw the book at me. "Help! Someone help me!"
Page 233. I picked up the book. Page 233. 233... "MURDER: Usually light to medium brown, jagged edges. Forms a backwards C."
"Liar! Bastard! Monster!" | 2014-05-11T02:02:48 | 2014-05-11T00:05:48 | 81 | 14 |
[WP] 3 Russian Cosmonuats and 3 American Astronauts and 2 others aboard the international space station witness the launching of thousands of ICBMs between the superpowers. What is the fate of the crew? | ---ISS Video Log: 7/14/18---
The batteries are low, and i don't have long. This may be the last entry of humanity, at least until after the wheel, electricity, and civilization are reinvented. Hopefully this will have lasted.
---
Three months ago, the world went up in fire. One poor bastard shot another poor bastard, which ended up on the internet. From there the events spiraled out of control as protests popped up and turned to riots, riots into civil war, and finally civil war into a nuclear exchange. One act of senseless violence inspiring grander displays of humankinds cruel nature.
---
There had been eight of us at the start. For three day's we watched the chaos beneath us. Missile flew, and cities died. We watched as one by one, our nations, our families, our lives, were reduced to radioactive slag. Then the real pain started. We had been two weeks away from resupply. While food was not much of a problem, due to the hydroponics lab and the lab animals, we were short on air. Despite the upgrades to life support, our oxygen was limited to 4 months, due to degradation in the O2 scrubbers. Things were made easier, as the number of us to be supported dropped. It was a shock when Vlad walked out the airlock, and again when Mei swallowed a fistfull of pills. It was after Mei that we remaining six began to modify the escape shuttle to land us back on Earth. It took 2 months and two more lives, those of comrade Gregori, and Josh. Thankfully we still had Ilya to pilot us in. And she did, though not well enough. We had re-designated our landing coordinates for a patch of ground in the Midwestern United States, and in doing set the chain of events off that would send Ilya skimming into a boulder. She and Steve were killed instantly. Leaving me and Eve, to find survivors, and re-build the world into a better place
---
I have to go now. the battery is at one percent. Christ, i wish i had more time, more power. I could leave knowledge, understanding, a better warning. Instead i have a crappy narrative of the extinction of humanity. Anyway,i had better get back to Eve and the rest of the camp. This is Adam Godspeed, signing off.
---ISS Video Log End--- | "Well look on the bright side Ivan, now all your ports are warm water ports. You Ruskies have no reason to occupy Crimea any more," Jeff Houston halfheartedly jabbed as he watched another brilliant flash erupt from the dark side of the Earth. The political taunts the two men usually exchanged had lost their luster and now Jeff was just going through the motions.
"At least until the nuclear winter sets in," Rajata was anchored furher back in the module with her dark hair freely fanning out around her head. She spoke with no emotion as the shock clearly overtook her. India might survive the initial strikes but no one on Earth was safe from the end result.
Ivan's face was a ghostly white as he hovered inside the Cupola, the ISS module that contained the 7 panoramic windows giving him a front row view of the dark globe below. To the observer the rest of the missing crew was explainable. Misha and Peter were likely still asleep in the Zvezda module. José was probably just waking in his private bunk inside Harmony.
"Why are you doing this?" Ivan turned to face to one of the two dark forms attached to the lower windows of the Cupola.
"We're not doing anything," one of the dark masses writhed and pulsed somehow making the air around it reverberate into human speech, "Your governments are the ones firing the intercontinental nuclear missiles. The initial EMP weapons that wiped out power to the Eastern Seaboard of the United States and the missiles striking Russia now were not our doing. We are just here to observe."
"Observe? Admit it, you're the ones who manipulated our governments into this war!" Houston rotated from the top window to face the two alien forms. Though his voice projected at their amorphous bodies his eyes seemed to gaze at a point well beyond their positions.
Then there was an awkwardly long pause. Finally the other creature pulsed, "I suppose it doesn't matter any more. There is nothing you can do to stop us. Yes, we have been secretly manipulating your governments for the past decade but it is they who are now destroying each other and inadvertently terraforming the Earth to the cold climate our bodies require for survival."
For a second it appeared the two alien bodies were jiggling with the camera as it shot backwards out of the Coupola module and into the attached Tranquility module.
The view then quickly panned to the panicked and bloody face of José Herandez.
José's eyes were pleading, "Please! Please stop this madness! You are not the ones in control. You have been coerced into this action! Please stop now while humanity has a chance to survive. These creatures are real and they are presiding over the destruction of the Earth as we know it!"
Then the video player window went black as the end of the clip was reached
"Is this legitimate? Are these the faces of the astronauts we currently have on the ISS?" the president's war-weary face searched the general's eyes for the truth. The other men and women in the situation room were stoic, waiting their turn to be called upon.
"Yes sir, these are our astronauts. I double-checked their dossiers myself."
220 miles above the Earth four humans looked down longingly as the sun crested the beautiful blue sphere. Soon it might all be different than how they left it. Their lifeline of oxygen, water, and food may never be tethered again.
"Do you think they bought it?" Rajata was floating in a field of liquid orbs that had erupted from her eyes.
"It was the best I could do in such short time with Adobe After Effects," José sighed as another flash burst from the line of darkness they had just left, "I am far better at superimposing light sabers than I am at animating aliens."
"You did your best Joe. I'm just sorry about Misha and Peter Ivan. I know at the core they were good men," Houston gave his smaller friend a pat on the back that sent him a little closer to the wall panel he clung to.
Ivan blinked a few orbs of his own and sighed, "They had to be air-locked. It was the plan we all agreed upon in our haste. They were too loyal to Putin. Let's just pray their transmission didn't make it through and that ours did."
| 2014-08-09T21:57:53 | 2014-08-09T21:56:14 | 202 | 25 |
[WP]Serial killer has been monitoring his next victim's movements for months. She is a loner and the perfect target. One day she disappears and nobody notices but him.
Man, this sub is great. Come up with an idea and you get a bunch of great stories to entertain yourself with. This is better than TV!
edit: Front Page ! Good job everyone !
edit: wow ! Top post on this great sub. Thanks everyone! | Dear sir,
I know where Jane Faitherhiggabottom is.
You know who I mean. You liked her too. Jane, she of the turtleneck, she of the soft and surplus bosom that pushed out the wool threads of her sweater. Don't pretend you didn't notice. She worked at the library, re-stocking books, stamping catalogs, giving lonely old men the awkward-silence treatment when they tried to flirt. You know who she was. You've been there.
Yeah, I'd been following her. You don't know someone until you watch them when they think they're alone. She was something of a pervert, you know? Truly. Well, you know that now. Jane brought home cheesy romances about women on pirate ships and strange castles on the coasts and Jane would touch herself to sleep, her soft moans giving way to faint snores. She went to bed early, and when she was out, she was out like a light. I know that. Yeah, I was there, the peeping tom. What of it? Binoculars were invented for a reason.
Jane had a secret. I saw. She lied on the Internet. She teased men. She set up an online dating profile, and the picture was really her, except she never had the stomach to meet anyone. She'd tease them, I'd read it, she'd tease them and lead them on and tell them that she was a stewardess or a stripper or one of those other S-worded jobs that titillate average men. But we aren't average men, are we? We were already titillated. One time she got the courage to meet one of the men but she got cold feet and drove home from the restaurant and read one of her Hercules romance novels.
Anyways, I had a routine. I was there in the morning for coffee and the newspaper. I was there at the library. Reading. I was there at night, I was there when she went to bed. I installed a key logger. I read all that smut she sent to lonely horny men. I read her lies.
One night, I saw you in your car. She didn't notice you on the other side of the street, but I did. Peeping Toms notice that sort of thing. Then one day, the routine broke. She didn't come home. Her car wasn't there. She'd just up and disappeared. I tried the key logger. She was chatting with a man named "obeofhaighe0313414." That's your username, isn't it? She finally agreed to meet. She never had the stomach to meet anyone, but she had the stomach to meet you. That killer charm of yours.
I know where Jane Faitherhiggabottom is. She's with you. She's in there. Dead, maybe. Alive, just as likely. And I'm the only one who knows you did it.
And I'm coming for her.
Sincerely,
Peeping Tom | The pleasure isn’t in the kill, it’s in the hunt. People are animals; stupid, vain, mean animals, but still just animals. The species gets stronger or weaker dependent on the offspring, if they are strong and adaptable then the species gets strong with them. If they are weak and stupid then the species gets dragged down by them.
I ensure that those who do not meet the criteria are removed from the genetic pool before they have a chance to pollute it. Now I know, there are billions of people, millions of idiots and more targets than any one man could ever hope to eliminate but as the saying goes *every little helps.*
It’s a service I provide, free of charge to the greater population, but of course this free service has to be paid for in some way and for me, payment comes in the form of just a little enjoyment on the side. Okay, honestly it’s a lot of enjoyment, screaming blood to the elbows, tendon snapping fun, but we all have a hobby right?
Picking a target is normally easy, I tend to move around a fair bit, I’ve worked in offices and call centres all over, it’s easy work and no one gives two shits about who you are. You might have called me if you have been a customer of a cell phone company hat likes red or ever needed to return a vacuum cleaner. The workplaces here are target rich environments – full of the disposable and useless.
I’ll admit, hands in the air, I choose my targets from a certain range, they’re female, blonde and tall. Maybe consumer pressure got to me, maybe my tall blonde mother corrupted me, who can say. Sure taking out men might help a little more but it’s not like I’m getting a paycheck for this, I figure I should choose who I want. So long as the end result is a good one then it all works out.
Once I have picked my girl, my new pal, I like to get acquainted. I visit her home, check through her friends, family, lifestyle. To be clear, once she is chosen that’s a done deal but some people I can take my time with, others, if say they have a nosy neighbour or husband, they just have to go – quick slash across the throat on a walk home, knife to the kidneys, no pleasure at all.
Other targets, now, they’re where I have my fun. Margaret was going to be *lots* of fun. Blonde, tall, pretty and lived alone in a house near nobody else. I’d actually seen her at a supermarket and followed her home and then taken this job just to get close. My initial impression was right, she was vain, stupid and just ripe for picking.
Two nights ago, while she slept, I wandered her house, going through her things and then stoking her face as she slept. She was so peaceful, so perfect. I considered moving up my plan but this was best, this was right. Friday night, I would have three whole days before she was missed, three days of fun. I followed her home, carefully and then let her sit.
TV was on, TV was off, lights were on, lights were off. Everything was prime. I already had cut a key to her door and so I slipped into her house in complete silence, moving through like a shadow. I left my bag of tricks in the hallway and slipped into her room. She was not in bed.
I slowly eased back into the hallway and checked the bathroom. Then the living room. Kitchen. Attic space. She was gone. I returned to the bedroom and sat on the bed to think. I had watched the road, watched he house, the only way she could get out was through the back window. I moved to it and, sure enough, it was unlocked.
I quickly grabbed my bag and slipped out the window after her. If she was on an adventure then I would wait here and let her return but this time I would see her coming in. Hours passed and I waited, the moment being drawn out only making it sweeter.
At last movement and from nowhere she was there climbing in the window. I let her move through into the house and I slipped in the still open window. She was in the sitting room, light still off and I slipped in behind her.
She clutched a bag that fell as I grabbed her and squeezed her throat. It exploded and hundreds of tiny items rolled all over the floor, but I was more concerned with the kill, with the rush. At last she stilled and I let her go, unconscious and limp. Perfect. I looked down and across the floor there were hundreds of tiny teeth, children’s teeth.
I smiled - this was my kind of chick. I’d never killed one like this before but I’d killed similar. I grinned in the moonlight, people always said what big teeth I had.
| 2014-10-21T12:08:17 | 2014-10-21T12:01:52 | 175 | 33 |
[WP] A death row inmate, hours before their scheduled execution, is offered a deal. | There was a soft hiss, air escaping a balloon. Shiloh felt her hands before he saw her, the shallow wisp of Miranda. She had come to him, the very vision of oil. She wore her hair black, braided tight against her angled skull. She was not beautiful, far from it. She had a small, sharp chin, too sharp to do more than than cut glass.
It was her eyes that stopped rooms, that tricked time out of its forward motion. It is how she entered this place, where Shiloh sat waiting for his death. Slipped in like the witch she was.
"Ello."
"That is all you have for me?" Miranda asked, softer this time. Last time they spoke she shot fire from her lips, words like starched hatred.
"Why are you here?" Shiloh asked. He had once looked down on her, waiting for her to leave his sight. She had loved him for as long as she had hated the world. She thought she owned him, that he would never escape her. She was part of the reason he was locked in her, she let him take the fall for her crimes.
"I have come to release you." Miranda produced a key. It was black, a *skeleton key.* Shiloh shook his head.
"I don't want that, Mira. I don't."
"I am going to give you the freedom you desire," Miranda said. Then she was gone in a thin trail of wind. She fluttered under the wooden door, out into the hall. He didn't hear screams, but the blood was pounding in his ears.
He had begged God for a way out. But this was not what he wanted. Never.
Miranda did not return for hours. When she did, it was only her eyes that he recognized.
XXX
Miranda came in a new form. This girl was young, fourteen, with hair like broken leaves. Miranda had picked well. She would be a beautiful woman, until the oil ruined her. Miranda could keep a body young for decades. It was only when she grew tired of the form that she let it age and die quickly, moving onto her original shape--thin, snake that she was.
This time she came with a companion. A boy-child, barely 15. The boy had amber eyes, hair like stones. Shiloh knew what was to come. He knew what the key meant. He gave the boy a small nod. He was sorry.
Miranda told the boy, Erich, to stand beside Shiloh. "I have permission from the guards to ask him about your brother."
Shiloh recognized the boy now. It had been three years. The boy had been screaming in a corner. Erich Leigh.
Shiloh had killed his father.
Now he would take the body of the son. | "*What**?!*" He hissed, fierce eyes glinting in the dim lighting of his soundproof, plexi-glass holding chamber. Surely this woman was insane!
Her devastated eyes spoke stories of her desperation. He was slightly taken aback by the despair in her lowered orbs- it seemed this was her last option, her final plea.
"I'm begging you," She whispered, her voice broken as tears slid carelessly down her worn face. "You're my last chance."
The assassin huffed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. His brows furrowed as he attempted to process how he had been placed in this situation.
He had killed many people. In his thirteen years of being a trained assassin, he had taken out abusive husbands, cheating spouses, drug lords, and ringleaders. There had been no limit to who he would murder, and each death was carried out with poise and skill.
No matter the person, however, he had always included in his contract that he knew the entire situation. As cold-hearted as a professional hit man seemed, he had standards. He vowed never to leave a customer unhappy, therefore they had to truly desire for their intended victim to die.
He had taken cases from the most likely of people. A woman spited, politicians in uncomfortable positions, lackeys who only wished to move up in the ranks of their gangs. Never in his thirteen years, never in the over three-hundred perfunctory murders, had he come across this situation.
It discomforted him more than he would like to admit.
Here in front of him was a kind-hearted woman. She was assigned counselor for all death-row inmates at Acadia Parish Prison Facility. A woman whom had a heart of gold and smiles that radiated joy and sunshine with every child-like laugh. Her laugh was a church bell, beautiful and pure.
Yet, in this solitary solemn moment, she sung a broken-hearted song that moved within him- infuriated him.
Nearly two years ago, her only child, a toddler by the name of Estelle with bouncy brown curls and shimmering hazel eyes that rivaled her mother's, had disappeared. The woman's ex-boyfriend, and father of dear little Estelle, had disappeared along with the child, leading police to believe he was the culprit. However, neither of the disappeared had ever been seen since, leading to a cold case and a broken mother.
These words she spoke to him were whole-hearted and true; she had lost her heart along with her child. He mourned for the woman in front of him, as even in her darkest moments she lit the room with beauty.
Sitting down once more in the chair across the table from her, he crossed his legs. Reaching out and placing his hands on top of hers, he offered the most unexpected of comforts. She flinched slightly, eyes shooting up in question at the brief touch of sympathy. His eyes relayed his thoughts,
*'Criminals have compassion, too.'*
Every murderer has had a mother. Or a smaller sister. A girlfriend, someone they wished to protect with their entirety. They would do anything for them. He had once had a younger sister.
Her kidnapper was his first kill.
"Speak again your conditions for my release."
Her words were fast-paced and choppy, eager at the opportunity for justice.
"Find him. Find my ex, find who took her. And then find her. I don't care how you do it. Beat him up, scare him, torture him- I don't care- as long as I can have my baby back."
She paused, her blazing eyes quickly extinguishing then lowering in thought.
"Or at least know what happened to her."
Shaking her head, she raised her eyes to meet his and continued as if the thought had never occurred,
"If you agree to this, I will fake as if you have disappeared. I will make sure no one follows you, and you will be able to live a life of freedom and peace. Do I have your agreement?"
His eyes lowered, deep in thought and concentration. After a brief moment of silence, his head raised and a smirk overtook his face. His cold eyes glimmered, alight with amusement. His final decision reached, he spoke with a rough warmth that betrayed his upcoming actions.
"What have I got to lose?" He murmured, standing and outstretching his arm in a gesture of agreement.
Her smile lit up the room as she mimicked his actions, grasping his hand with a tight desperation that sent unnoticeable shivers down his spine.
"Great!" She chirped, collecting disorderly papers and typing away on her phone. Her eyes glittered with a fierce determination.
"Let's get to work, shall we?"
| 2015-06-23T20:40:11 | 2015-06-23T19:51:09 | 37 | 14 |
[WP] Death falls in love with you
You may not be over your ex. | I am flirting with death. Not the "be irresponsible" kind, but the "literally on a date with Death" kind. We first met four years ago, in the most obvious place to meet death, a funeral. Specifically, my dead husband's funeral. I was apparently the only one that could see the skeleton in the front row. I managed to keep my composure, I wanted to honor my husband's memory. His death was sudden, a unexpected heart attack. He died in my arms.
**I am flirting with a human. Avoiding humans is one of my most important rules, but I made an exception for this one. She is exceedingly beautiful. Anyone who expects me to comment on her excellent personality should bone up on their popular culture. I take what I want, and I want beauty.**
Death doesn't know my secret. Tonight, he will ask me to join him in the underworld as his wife. I will agree, inheriting all of his powers to share as equals, but not for long. I will kill death and rescue my husband, and my husband and I will escape together. No one will ever have to die again. I keep a straight face, but smile internally
**She doesn't know my secret. Tonight, I will ask her to join me in Hell. She will agree, then attempt to backstab me and rescue her husband. Her plan was not thought through very well. We are going to Hell. Her husband, the one I murdered, is in Heaven.** | I went as an angel this year to my friend's epic Halloween party. I was pouring myself a drink when some guy walked up to me. He was wearing one of those stereotypical grim reaper costumes and holding a scythe.
"Did you fall from heaven?" he asked. "Because you're *literally* dressed up like an angel."
"Very original," I said. "Though I will admit I haven't heard that one tonight."
"But seriously, they don't actually look anything like that," he said. "Angels. Angels don't look like that."
"And how would you know?"
"Well, I *am* Death, after all. I've met all *kinds* of supernatural beings. Angels and demons and demigods."
"Oh my," I said. "I'm Karen. What's your real name?"
"Like I said, *Death*." This time, when he said 'death,' his voice dropped an octave lower and seemed to reverberate throughout the entire room as if we were standing in a cathedral.
"Whoa," I said. "Epic special effects. You really went all out for this costume."
"It's not a costume," he said.
"Sure, whatever you say. So tell me, *death*, what do angels actually look like?"
"It varies. Some of them look like mortals. Some have wings or hooves or horns. But all of them have one thing in common."
"And what's that?"
"None of them are as pretty as you," he said.
I smiled despite myself. "Okay, I'll play along with your whole thing. If you're actually Death, what are you doing here?"
"I'm working tonight. I'm afraid Eduardo over there isn't long for this world." He gestured his scythe at Eduardo, who was standing across the room doing shots.
"Oh, so you're one of Eduardo's friends?"
"Not yet. But he and I will be acquainted very soon."
"Oh right. *Death*," I said in the deepest baritone I could muster. "Man, you're really committed to this bit."
We talked for the next twenty minutes. I told him about my life, my family, my friends...he talked pretty much exclusively about the kingdoms of heaven, hell, and earth. No matter what, he would just *not* drop character.
"I must leave now," he said. "I have work to do."
"It was nice meeting you," I said. "And kudos, man, you prepped a *ton* of backstory for this costume. That was insane."
"I'd like to see you again. Can I get your number?" He handed me his phone.
"Sure." I entered my number into his phone. "Maybe we can meet up and I can figure out who you actually are."
He took back his phone. I turned around to pour myself a cup of water, and when I turned back, he was nowhere to be seen. I couldn't even see his scythe, which should have been sticking out over everyone's head.
A few seconds later, I heard screams from across the room. I ran over to see what the commotion was.
Eduardo's body was lying on the floor. A woman I didn't recognize had her fingers on his neck, checking for a pulse.
"He's dead," said the woman. "Eduardo's dead." | 2015-07-13T07:42:37 | 2015-07-13T07:19:47 | 303 | 49 |
[WP] You are an NPC in a failed online game. Tell about the final days before server shut down.
Edit 1: Holy shit! Thanks for all of the great replies!
Edit 2: ¡Jesus Cristo! Front page! Thanks all! | "I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew po-" | Kurt looked own at the screen.
He started Dragon's Egg when he was fifteen and just getting into programming. He based a lot of it on old games he played himself. He had been a huge fan of Zelda, Runescape, Final Fantasy.
But the effort he put into the game just seemed pointless. No one seemed to be entering the 'scape anymore and the cost was too much. He had sold the rights, making it into a portable one player throwback. People bought it, but no one seemed interested in the old online version.
There were newer games, more exciting. DE had a good run, ten years, millions of fans. It would never topple the legend of WoW, but it came close. People knew about it. Now it was time to take the dog out back and let her die peacefully.
Still, logging into his old account, Kurt walked the familiar streets of Eggergoth.
There, the stylishly dressed women sent his character encouragement. *Here comes the brave one, save us!*
Something seemed strange, though. Instead of moving on, the women remained where they were standing. A crowd gathered and surrounded Allyk the Brave. This had to be a glitch, had someone hacked it? Kurt waited.
Through the crowd of NPC came a short, badly designed NPC. It was Erla the Daughter of Fate. She had been the priestess, based off a girl he once loved. Erla bowed to him, her two dimensional face oddly clear.
"We thank you for giving us this chance. We know what is going to happen. We just hope, one day, when you happen upon the same fate you will understand that we never wanted to end this way. We ask you give us a few days alone and then do what you must," she said.
Kurt signed off moments later. He turned off his computer and cried. Someone was playing a cruel joke on him.
Standing, he left his old office and got into his car. On the way home, he got distracted by his cell phone and missed the truck veering into his lane.
Karla, his wife of fifteen years, made the hard choice two days later to end his life. He would not wake up. And when he did, it would not be as the same person.
A day after that, his game was take off the server. | 2015-09-01T11:39:46 | 2015-09-01T09:58:16 | 171 | 43 |
[WP] It's been almost two years since people stopped dying, and five months since we started to burn the ones that should.
*Edit: This prompt is originally inspired by Jose Saramago's "Death with Interruptions," though I don't remembered any burning in that book. This is in no way intended to be related to any Torchwood plot, a show I've never watched.* | I still heard people around me, even if I couldn't react. For a long time, I heard the people telling my family how lucky they were that I had my accident *after* Death had died. I never felt lucky, though.
After a while, no one came around at all. Death or no Death, I was lost to them.
It'd been -- months...? Maybe years? -- since I'd moved. The doctors knew I was still *there* -- they picked up on my brain activity, and all my necessary functions were chugging along just fine. I couldn't see anymore, though I'd heard I still had my eyes. I suppose that was lucky, given the extent of my burns.
The fire may not have taken my eyes, but it certainly broke something. My skin screamed in constant, droning agony, occasionally amplified by a touch from a nurse. In a way, I was glad it'd been so long since I'd seen my mother -- she had loved to touch me, and I had had no way to tell her that it made my pain so much worse.
I was hopeful. Some untold length of time ago, I was listed for disposal. And today was the day. I had heard it happened with fire. Fitting, I thought.
I heard the crew come in and I felt something I hadn't felt in several eternities -- I was happy. My skin shrieked a beautiful, horrible pain, and soon I was burning. I was ecstatic.
I could feel my flesh melting away from my bones, and I waited blissfully for consciousness to fade away.
But it never did. The pain is so much worse, and I can feel myself scattered and stretched, disintegrated into countless millions of ashes. Of course, they assumed the fire would *truly* kill me, send me out of this world and into the next, but that was foolish. Death is dead, and no one can die. | They introduced the idea to the world by placing prisoners on the headlines of popular newspapers. Showing us the vile faces of murderers and rapists, who contributed to the gradual decline of our food and water supplies, sure made the government succeed in getting a loud yes from the public. There were those who opposed, but our voices were muffled by the threat of global famine.
Prisoners were picked from computer generated lists. Starting with the worst, and gradually running out of them. Three months in they were throwing prisoners with minor drug offenses into the pit, a volcanic dustbin for human’s they deemed waste, and then the sick.
Today, I turned on the eight o’clock news and found my name in the early broadcast along with twenty others worldwide. A brief appearance of Dr. flashed in front of the name, David Howard, and quickly vanished.
A nervous shuffled sounded in the abandoned school building we squatted in since the first civilian was called to *duty*.
“Do you think they’ll come after you?” Sheila asked, cheekbones almost cutting through her thin face.
“They certainly didn’t wait for David,” I replied, biting on the lose corner of dried skin on my upper lip.
David lived in the apartment next to mine. I remember seeing his name and turning off the TV to hear him do the same. He knocked on my door and fell at my feet, asking him to help him. The resistance I held toward the system made him think that I somehow knew more, or had a plan. I didn’t then, and don’t really have one now either.
They removed him, kicking and screaming, from my apartment three hours later, when he missed the two hour deadline of approaching the nearest police station.
Frank, the bravest—or rather loudest and biggest—of the group, stepped forward and placed a firm hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t worry, this is what we prepared for, isn’t it?” he said, quieting down the nervous murmur that echoed within the walls of the dusty gym room. “They don’t know where we are.”
I kept my eyes on the screen, and combed my hand through long strands of brown hair, thinking. “That gives us about a day’s advantage. Someone will talk. We don’t exactly live here unnoticed.”
“No, certainly not.”
“We go up to the mountains. Ask the other ground to help. We’ve grown food, have some weapons. Sheila’s a nurse. The more the merrier, right?” I said, and wondered whether it wouldn’t be easier for that group to just kill us, and avoid danger while stocking up with our supplies.
“I was training as a nurse,” Sheila corrected. “Then best I can do is change a bedpan.”
“You can put on a bandage, can’t you?” I asked, forcing my confidence up. *This or death.* There was no other choice. Maybe we’d be able to stay hidden for more than a day, but at some point, a bunch of sirens would sound outside, and twenty people couldn’t protect me from grenades, bombs and a trained police force. The police would sooner kill us all than risk themselves, and the anxious eyes jumping from one face to another assured me that everyone came to the same conclusion.
“Well, I guess it’s time to meet the mountain people,” Frank said, and tensed his broad shoulders.
“I’ve met them,” I inclined my head and bit my lip, “it sure isn’t going to be an easy conversation. Gather everything we have, blankets, seeds—everything. If we’re going to convince them that we’re useful, we better seem useful. Anyone hiding a doctor or medicine I don’t know about?” I received a laugh from the scattering crowd.
*****
More stories here, /r/AlinaKG
| 2016-05-02T07:12:48 | 2016-05-02T06:32:43 | 75 | 21 |
[WP] Due to overpopulation, a test has been created to eliminate 90% of the worlds population. You are the first to take this test. | I entered the facility, shaking of course. I'd volunteered to go first, mostly to get it over with, but I was definitely having misgivings. The proctors had assured us that studying was not required, but now that I thought about it they had also said that about the ACT.
It was far too late now though. I continued walking through a narrow hallway until a pair of guards moved to pick me up. Vaguely, I wondered how the guards worked. Were they exempt from testing? Or just very devoted?
After a brief, quick time frogmarch I was deposited in a dark room with a single man before me. Surprisingly, I was calm now. I even smiled slightly. Whatever happened, I was ready to face my fate.
The proctor glanced at me. "Congratulations!" he shouted, smiling broadly. "You pass!"
"What?"
"I said you passed! Congratulations!"
I was slightly nonplussed. "But what about the test?" I spluttered. "How do you know I'll pass?"
He waved his hand dismissively. "Oh you already passed. We're just gonna let the first ten percent through and kill the rest."
"But why?"
"Well we figure that the first guys through will really have their shit together. Plus late people are annoying. It just made sense."
"Well okay then." I walked out whistling. Late people *are* annoying. | I hope I didn't fuck up the Algebra section. God I hope I didn't. The next battery of questions hits. Historical facts, easy ones though. "Who lost at the Battle of Waterloo?", "When was the United States Founded?" ,"Where was the last battle of World War 3 fought", "Which country was first to violate the Geneva Convention's ban on biological weaponry?"
Simple stuff.
The next round of questions now. Art. They ask me to draw a sunrise in ten minutes. I do it in eight. I'm proud of myself, though I think my shading could have been better.
They ask me to write a paragraph on the practical purpose of art in six succinct sentences. In my head, the timer still ticks. One hour now.
Two hours to prove your worth to the world. I say they "ask" in the same way a military police officer asks you to step out of your vehicle. Everything is phrased so cordially. A very few people opt out entirely on moral grounds. If nothing has been put to the paper within ten minutes, the subject is "disqualified". I try not to think of their clinical alternative to saying "gassed".
The next round of questions is a bit trickier. Community."Name ten people in your life that you have directly helped."
Great, they're gauging my ability to lie. Anything too grandiose and they'd smell the bullshit all the way from behind that bulletproof glass. I concoct something about having bailed my best friend out for some rent money, talk about the the time I gave away my ration cards to a starving stranger and omitted the fact that I traded them for sexual favors. A few more embellishments later and I'm home free. Last section is a blank sheet of paper headed by one question, "Why is it wrong to end another person's life?"
Holy hell. What do I argue? Take the religious option and they label you a nutjob. Take the moral route and you may as well just opt out entirely. Two minutes pass. I stare blankly at this sheet. Every breath of air reeks with the phantom scent of roasted almonds, bleach and the vacated bowels of a thousand failures before me. Try not to think of your lips turning blue. Try not to think of two men in white uniforms hosing out the room before dragging your slumped over corpse out from under the desk.
I swear, they turned up the heat. My collar is damp and the shaking in my hands worsens. The audible ping of the countdown clock steadily doles out the last seconds of my examination. I scribble out my answer before hastily shoving it into the slot.
"Because it is illegal."
Seconds pass. The disarming feminine voice fills the room "Processing. Please wait." it repeats assuredly. Minutes pass, and it's all I can do not to shit myself. "Processing. Please Wait." Was this automated? Were they just picking out keywords? Word count? Penmanship? Was there a panel of white coats? I want to scream, I want to cry. I want to tell them to give me a goddamn answer. I hear the faintest of hisses.
And the doors open.
| 2016-06-11T10:22:36 | 2016-06-11T09:36:07 | 588 | 116 |
[WP] Instead of a dystopia that seems like a utopia on the surface, write a story about a utopia that seems like a dystopia on the surface. | It was a grimy life, Factory City Three. The smell of oil, sweat, and some chemical or another always filled the air, coated the walls, stuck to your clothes. Clean air was a commodity in Factory City Three, a dollar for a cubic meter. A few minutes of fresh breath inside the machine that was your life.
And the machines! Always and everywhere, the machines. Music had to be rewrote for each area depending on what the background hum was. Factory City Three was a billion machines inside of one whole, and humans were just a scant million of the machines inside it.
And yet, they stayed inside it. For the most part; some fraction left every year, either to the Outside, or every decade or so to a new Factory City when one thought it had enough resources to manufacture a new Factory City.
The latter was the main form of emigration. Life inside was loud, tough, and confusing, but there was always a roof over your head, always food on the table (be it mostly synthetic or not), and always, most importantly, always someone you could talk to.
The governorship of Factory City Three, and all that it had spawned, was a machine intelligence. Factory City Two had built it, and it's body of machine intelligence and human intelligence had elected to remove the latter. Most of the activity of the humans inside it were directed by it's cold logic. It had a simple mission, the same as every other Factory City. Move. Collect resources. Keep the people alive and happy enough. Repair the land. Reproduce.
In the wake of every Factory City was a tract of budding forests. Plants were genetically engineered to survive the blasted landscape, and while the City itself collected resources and the radioactive material for it's own use, it cleaned the land well enough that anything could grow there.
The resources went to building new machines, the atomics to the power plant at the heart of the City, and a handful of people trickled out to colonize the reclaimed land - if they so chose.
There were now nearly forty Factory Cities and two prototype Factory Ships in operation, with a third in development for travelling to the other continent to set loose another Factory City.
A citizen puts on her noise cancelling headphones and heads to her maintenance station, the high pitched sounds of synthesized violins and flutes offering a counterpoint to the constant bass din that surrounds her. She was in a good mood; she had a date tonight on the observation deck with a cute fellow from research and development, at the re-release of the mango party. They were moving into an area where the climate could support their growth, and some of the food crop seeds were being pulled out of storage to prepare for the planting process.
It was an average day in Factory City Three. The world was all the better for it. | "Twenty five thousand, five hundred and eighty two bodies counting"
She lit a 'churro', the coloquial name for a joint, and breathed deeply.
Peter wasn't sure if she was pleased from the rush of the drug or the amount of stated earlier. He saw her as she inhailed deeply, sat down on the edge of a deep pothole, kalashnikov on her lap somewhat covered by the long and dirty coat she was wearing. Messy matted hair, a scarf around her neck with the strands tucked inside the coat.
He had heard stories of the City of Delusion, but he had to come see it for himself.
"I can't say I'm proud of it but someone's gotta do the job. The world's fucked up as it is." she picked up the 'churro' from her mouth, holding it with her left hand. Her dark blue eye stared at Peter intensely, the other one covered by the only strands of long hair that were at least cared of. "When they closed that border over there, I knew that spelled trouble. Shit was going to hit the fan and I wasn't going to wait for it."
It was an era that ended in disaster, Peter recalled. The once strong European Union collapsed under it's own careless weight, held by a pillar instead of a thousand as they had originally thought. As the world judged their carelessness, others began to act and engulf the world in chaos followed by bad decisions. Superpowers acting like bad nannies trying to once more shape the world as they pleased but realizing only too late how little power they also had.
Economic, Political, Social. It all went to hell in the blink of an eye.
"These are the times were everyone blames everyone," Peter heard from a newscast on the telly a decade ago. "Pointing fingers at each other without realizing that they are most posibly the author of their own curse."
"Why didya come 'ere though? Howd'ya found this place?" the woman asked, holding the automatic gun on her arms as if it were some sort of child.
"A friend refered to me." Peter flinched, although he tried his best not to show anything outward. "There are rumors of it on the undernet but they get shot down really quickly."
"Dis place be hell on Earth boy, why d'ya wanna come here?"
London was somehow untouched from all of this. The streets had never been as organized as this before.
Pristine parks and government centers flurished.
Commute times were competing against the once stereotyped German strict standards.
Everything was *fine*.
On the dark corners where the shadows lurked, however, murmurs whispered stories of missing people. Dissidents that never existed. A single party that ruled them all, disguised as many.
Be a model citizen, consume as requested, assist to the events, read the material.
Forget the past.
Everything will be *fine*.
He breathed deeply, looking at her without fear for the first time.
A gentle smile appeared on his face.
"I'm looking for options."
A flurishing rose in the middle of the dessert, covered by torns.
Twenty five thousand, five hundred and eighty two, it's current population. Each of them defending what little they held.
By no means the place offered easy comfort nor comodities, but it did have something that most have lost in an attempt to bring back the sense of security.
The woman stood up, spitting out the joint from her mouth. Peter's stance became stiff, observing her every move.
"We'll have'ta walk down the ol' river. You'll see soon if ya like it here."
There was dust on the ground and downtown was an accomulation of old scattered structures which once were malls or bussiness centers.
Despite all that, he was glad to find people walking around without schedules or arranged lives, children playing outside unafraid and unsupervsed, food stands offering substitutes for old recipes.
Peter smiled, looking at their simple lives. Difficult as it may be living without all the comodities, it was the price to pay for their sense of freedom.
"It's been 25 years, you know?" She joined Peter. Her voice had even changed to a much more calm and educated tone. "Nobody aided us. Nobody wanted to, so we had to do it on our own. And now, here we are. It's a slow progress but we are rather proud of what we've been able to build."
It was then when Peter, nodding satisfactingly, found his Utopia.
| 2016-07-14T08:52:44 | 2016-07-14T08:16:22 | 140 | 21 |
[WP] Instead of a dystopia that seems like a utopia on the surface, write a story about a utopia that seems like a dystopia on the surface. | I start walking down what's left of Peachtree Street. The buildings are crumbling, the shattered windows of the skyscrapers reflecting the harsh sunlight into the street as little points of light. As I navigate the piles of rubble, I remember what it was like before the Virus.
Everyone was so happy. Everything we wanted was at our fingertips. Clothes, food, jewellery, even entire buildings if we really wanted it. I'd lived a humble life, deciding from a young age that I wanted to travel the world by foot. Three and a half centuries would be enough for that, I'd reasoned.
I was wrong. I'd just arrived in Budapest when the Virus struck. Everyone suddenly started dropping dead, coughing up blood. I felt a little queasy, but that seems to have been because of the blood and dead bodies rather than the actual Virus. I was immune. One in a hundred million. Over a trillion people died on each of our planets that day. I did not.
I think it had something to do with my lifestyle choices. I'd decided that to be the most efficient, I replaced my digested system with a much more efficient one made of a biological replicator. Bloody expensive, but worth it. I can eat anything now, and I get all the nutrients I need. That didn't help with the Virus, of course. Just with me surviving after it.
I shrugged my shoulders that day and walked on. Everywhere I went, decaying corpses littered the street. It was fascinating to see how our bodies decomposed naturally. Over the next months, everything disappeared but some of the metal bones, or prosthetics, or other augmentations.
My three hundred fiftieth year passed. If the Virus hadn't happened, I would have been brought in to die peacefully on that day. I wasn't. Only then did it dawn on me that I was truly immortal. I could do whatever I wished. So I kept travelling the world.
I think the Russian Taiga was the most beautiful. I spent a few centuries just thinking there among the trees. Then I moved on.
Two thousand years have passed since the Virus. There are other immortals walking around like me, I know. But they travel in groups, and I am content with my thoughts. And anyway, only a tenth of them didn't commit suicide. There are tribes of those people's descendants, worshipping us. Gods. I chuckle. Yes, I'm a god, I guess. The chuckle grows to a laugh, and I raise my arms straight out beside me. I grin, and take off for the second time in my long life. The air rushes past my face and blows my hair out of my eyes.
The world is beautiful.
*EDIT: I was on mobile and autocorrect screwed some things up. Also, fixed weird wording.* | "Twenty five thousand, five hundred and eighty two bodies counting"
She lit a 'churro', the coloquial name for a joint, and breathed deeply.
Peter wasn't sure if she was pleased from the rush of the drug or the amount of stated earlier. He saw her as she inhailed deeply, sat down on the edge of a deep pothole, kalashnikov on her lap somewhat covered by the long and dirty coat she was wearing. Messy matted hair, a scarf around her neck with the strands tucked inside the coat.
He had heard stories of the City of Delusion, but he had to come see it for himself.
"I can't say I'm proud of it but someone's gotta do the job. The world's fucked up as it is." she picked up the 'churro' from her mouth, holding it with her left hand. Her dark blue eye stared at Peter intensely, the other one covered by the only strands of long hair that were at least cared of. "When they closed that border over there, I knew that spelled trouble. Shit was going to hit the fan and I wasn't going to wait for it."
It was an era that ended in disaster, Peter recalled. The once strong European Union collapsed under it's own careless weight, held by a pillar instead of a thousand as they had originally thought. As the world judged their carelessness, others began to act and engulf the world in chaos followed by bad decisions. Superpowers acting like bad nannies trying to once more shape the world as they pleased but realizing only too late how little power they also had.
Economic, Political, Social. It all went to hell in the blink of an eye.
"These are the times were everyone blames everyone," Peter heard from a newscast on the telly a decade ago. "Pointing fingers at each other without realizing that they are most posibly the author of their own curse."
"Why didya come 'ere though? Howd'ya found this place?" the woman asked, holding the automatic gun on her arms as if it were some sort of child.
"A friend refered to me." Peter flinched, although he tried his best not to show anything outward. "There are rumors of it on the undernet but they get shot down really quickly."
"Dis place be hell on Earth boy, why d'ya wanna come here?"
London was somehow untouched from all of this. The streets had never been as organized as this before.
Pristine parks and government centers flurished.
Commute times were competing against the once stereotyped German strict standards.
Everything was *fine*.
On the dark corners where the shadows lurked, however, murmurs whispered stories of missing people. Dissidents that never existed. A single party that ruled them all, disguised as many.
Be a model citizen, consume as requested, assist to the events, read the material.
Forget the past.
Everything will be *fine*.
He breathed deeply, looking at her without fear for the first time.
A gentle smile appeared on his face.
"I'm looking for options."
A flurishing rose in the middle of the dessert, covered by torns.
Twenty five thousand, five hundred and eighty two, it's current population. Each of them defending what little they held.
By no means the place offered easy comfort nor comodities, but it did have something that most have lost in an attempt to bring back the sense of security.
The woman stood up, spitting out the joint from her mouth. Peter's stance became stiff, observing her every move.
"We'll have'ta walk down the ol' river. You'll see soon if ya like it here."
There was dust on the ground and downtown was an accomulation of old scattered structures which once were malls or bussiness centers.
Despite all that, he was glad to find people walking around without schedules or arranged lives, children playing outside unafraid and unsupervsed, food stands offering substitutes for old recipes.
Peter smiled, looking at their simple lives. Difficult as it may be living without all the comodities, it was the price to pay for their sense of freedom.
"It's been 25 years, you know?" She joined Peter. Her voice had even changed to a much more calm and educated tone. "Nobody aided us. Nobody wanted to, so we had to do it on our own. And now, here we are. It's a slow progress but we are rather proud of what we've been able to build."
It was then when Peter, nodding satisfactingly, found his Utopia.
| 2016-07-14T08:30:59 | 2016-07-14T08:16:22 | 85 | 21 |
[WP] You are a normal person who spent your entire life infiltrating the evil Empire. You even became the Emperor's right hand. The day before you finally topple the Empire, the hero arrives, kills the Emperor, and saves the day.
Now how does that make you feel? | The hero looked at me, bewildered. Not three feet away from him lay the body of the "immortal" Emperor, with the hero's sword through his heart.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand the problem." He said, "I defeated him. You're free!"
"The problem is that you're undermining the plight of the common man, aren't you?" I said, waving a hand to the Emperor's dead body. "*Some* of us spend decades infiltrating the Empire because *some* of us weren't blessed by the Goddess with immense strength and durability!"
"But I was given these gifts to help *free* the common man, to-"
"Tell me, how long have you been working your way here? Two months? Three? How long ago did you actually *hear* about the Emperor? Because I'll bet it was maybe a day before you decided to 'put an end to their tyranny' as your lot love to say."
The hero remained quiet for a moment, "It was four months." They said eventually, like it mattered.
"And let me guess, you lost a love interest along the way? Maybe your favourite horsey?" I spat, "Well some of us were *raised* under this tyranny! We've had families disappear off the streets! We've endured this for nearly a century! And then *finally* one of us, *me*, gets in! Works their way up to be their right-hand man! Commits unspeakable horrors to gain their trust all so I can destroy his Soul Shielding at just the right time and plunge a dagger in his back!"
"Well, I'm sorry that I timed my heroics so poorly," The hero said with more than a hint of snark, shifting his tune as he went of the defensive, "If I'd known you were going to be so ungrateful-"
"No. *No.* You don't get to pull that shit here." I cut in again, "All you've done is reinforce the fatalistic idea that people should just sit around and wait for someone else to help them because the common man isn't good enough. How many empires could have liberated themselves *decades* ago if people hadn't just kept their heads down and said 'Someone else will do it, a hero will come'? And it's not exactly like you did this out of the kindness of your heart, is it? You've made a greater name for yourself as a hero! I'll hazard to guess you were even promised land or an esteemed title, weren't you?"
"That is unfair!" the hero protested, "I was promised no such thing!"
"Oh. Then they probably promised you they'd enchant your weapon, right?"
My accusation was met with silence.
"See? That's *worse*! You didn't save us because you wanted to, you saved us because you were promised a better *sword*!" I paused for a moment, burying my head in my hands for a few seconds. "Just... just go." I muttered into my palms, "You've already undermined decades of planning, just go take your sword to your enchanter and leave."
The hero stood there uneasily for several seconds. Eventually they walked over to the corpse of the Emperor, removed their sword from his chest and left through the secret passage they'd entered through. The same passage I'd convinced the Emperor not to board up so I could catch him by surprise. The nerve.
Slowly, I made my way out of the temple. I knew what had to be done. No one could know what had really happened here, the people needed to think that their plans had succeed. I was going to need to lie and tell them all I had killed the Emperor and then... Then I would leave. I would disappear from memory. I'd made so many sacrifices already, what was one more? It was too risky to try to play the role of corrupt Emperor myself in order to give the people a true victory, another hero might slay me before the people had their chance. No, I would need to leave and never speak of this day again. And if a hero ever wandered in claiming to have slain the Emperor themselves?
Well, they'd be known throughout the kingdom as a liar. | A taciturn air filled the room. The Emperor, Kretz and Fenton were discussing matter of state. 2 out of the 3 men at the long table were thinking intently, brainstorming plans to deal with some usurper. The fifth man was too excited, and had to make a conscious effort to not be jittery. Years of secrets and lies, despicable acts carried out with a greater plan in mind, were about to pay off. This usurper was just the distraction that the man needed to put his end-game, his final plan, in place.
"Is this man really a threat? We've seen thousands of these would-be liberators." Egnorak, the rightful ruler of Arkartha and all around scum of a human being was saying.
"He has taken over the Balterlands. Nobody has gone that far in the past. With their forces..." Kretz trailed off. Nobody at the table had to be reminded of the force of the Balterlands. The biweekly tennis games had been a manslaughter.
"But still, there is no way he could take over the city. Our walls are too strong." Fenton interjected. It was no use to him for the Emperor to be so on guard the day before his final comeuppance. Egnorak sat at the head of the table and pondered. These matters of administration were never his favorite part of the job. Striking fear into the hearts of his loyal cannon fodder was by far the best part of the job, in his professional opinion. He mostly went with the opinion of his advisers whenever possible, and defaulted to Fenton's opinion, his longest lasting and most loyal adviser, whenever there was a disagreement among them. This was different, however. This usurper had annoyed him. All his talk of "freedom" and "basic human rights". He needed to be taught a lesson.
"Something needs to be done. This man has offended me to my very core, taking over land that is mine by rights! We send the troops out tomorrow!" Kretz's eyes gleamed, all he really wanted to accomplish in his life was to be respected by Egnorak. Fenton showed a flash of unhappiness, but that was interpreted by the other men as frustration at his opinion being ignored. In reality, Fenton was already imagining the administrative headaches of recalling the armed forces after they had just been dispatched.
"Good meet, gents. I trust I'll see you at the banquet this weekend. It isn't everyday that your dog turns 4."
Amidst promises that they wouldn't miss it for the world, a terrible shaking overtook the room. The men all rocketed out of their chairs, and ran to the balcony facing the city proper. They arrived just in time to see part of the city walls come down, and what looked to be the main force of the Balterlands come rushing through.
_________________________________________________________________
The three men waited now in the throne room, surrounded by weary guards as the unready main force of the city were unceremoniously slaughtered by fierce Balterlandians. The roaring sound of battle crept ever closer, until the giant door of the throne room itself was being beaten upon. The guards in there suits of armor marched to the door and stood in formation. They were not warriors, more comfortable intimidating peasants than in battle, and it showed.
The door came buckling down, as everyone knew it would. The cheap doors of the castle had been a point of contention between the advisers to the emperor, Fenton saying that it was more of a show of strength and confidence, really to have poor infrastructure. Plus who wouldn't want to save a buck or too? Kretz looked sideways at Fenton with a look that seemed to say *I told you so*, but was afraid to say anything out loud with Egnorak in his current mood. The room had been void of all conversation since they had arrived. Egnorak sat on his throne, the look on his face not conveying anything, not conveying that he really felt nothing at all. Not conveying that he knew in his heart of hearts that it was over, but that he was still in denial.
The guards were rushed by the force outside, and were quickly dispatched. The Balterlandians pushed past the corpses of the guards, and then parted. A lone man walked through. He was wearing ornate golden armor, and he was a head taller than the rest of the forces.
"Egnorak! Let's settle this like men. I, Kevin, will have one final battle with you, and I will conquer this evil empire once and for all!"
Egnorak was no warrior, either. He looked at his two advisers, and before anyone could say anything, Kretz had leap at the man, with a fire in his eyes that temporarily shocked him. A fire in the eyes could not deal with a suit of armor and years of experience warring, however. Kretz was quickly dispatched, and his body fell to the floor with a loyal thump. Kevin looked back at the throne. Egnorak hadn't moved. He took one last look at Fenton, at the sword on his hip. Fenton flashed back to all the things he had done, to all the brutal killings he had overseen in Egnorak's name. This isn't how this was supposed to go, but it had to go somehow. With a look of disgust that couldn't be interpreted by anyone in the room, Fenton took his sword out of its scabbard, and dropped it on the ground.
Fenton had made it to the balcony again before he heard the screaming. The stoic non feeling act had apparently been dropped as the fighting began. Fenton didn't care. He could not stop thinking about the atrocities. Images flashed in his mind as he kept walking, and followed him all the way down.
______________________________________
/r/Periapoapsis | 2017-03-12T13:41:34 | 2017-03-12T10:41:50 | 469 | 20 |
[WP] You are a normal person who spent your entire life infiltrating the evil Empire. You even became the Emperor's right hand. The day before you finally topple the Empire, the hero arrives, kills the Emperor, and saves the day.
Now how does that make you feel? | I stepped around the feeble, emaciated corpse of the emperor. His blood had begun to pool, simply ruining the lush carpet in front of his throne.
“You killed him,” I said, my long held mask of subservience fading into incredulity.
“It was a long journey,” the hero responded, “But no longer will our people suffer under his tyranny.” he leaned over to wipe the blade of his sword on the emperor’s robe. Unceremoniously, he slipped the sword back into its scabbard and turned to leave.
“This isn’t a solution,” I said, mouth agape, “I mean, I could have done that!”
“But you didn’t,” the hero said, looking over his shoulder.
“That’s not the point,” I nudged the dead emperor with my foot. “Do you understand how an empire works?”
The hero turned back around fully, placing his armored fists firmly against his hips.
“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” He said.
“That’s precisely the problem,” I lectured, shoving the emperor’s corpse over onto its back. The already skeletal face stared serenly at the ceiling, forever free of responsibility. “The man was 82, a strong breeze could have killed him.”
“But it didn’t,” the hero said firmly.
“Have you ever heard of the term ‘Power Vacuum’?” I asked, prying the crown from the emperor’s head. “It would be one thing if you intended to seize the empire for yourself, but as it stands, you seem all too keen to leave.”
“My job here is done,” the hero stated, his mouth slowly curling into a lazy smile. “I wouldn’t have worked nearly so hard if I thought there was more to do after killing him. I plan to retire to a life of luxury back on the farm. Maybe buy a a few cows...”
“Who will collect the taxes? Who will dispatch troops to quell bandit raids?” I was growing heated, but there seemed little reason to stop myself. “You think the government just runs itself, do you?”
“Perhaps you should take over,” the hero offered.
“It’s not that simple!” I said, and then threw my hands up in exasperation. “He was supposed to officially declare me to be his heir tomorrow morning. Then I would have killed him, first thing Monday afternoon.”
“I’m sure,” the hero rolled his eyes.
“These things are important. Without paperwork, what’s to stop anyone from making a claim on the throne?” I asked, before pointing to the Grand Councillor, who was attempting to look nonchalant in the corner of the throne room. “He had the emperor’s ear as much as I did, what’s to keep him from taking over?”
“It’s true,” the Grand Councillor said sheepishly, “I planned on killing him Tuesday.”
“See? Tuesday.” I parroted.
“The impression that I am getting, is that no work is accomplished on the weekend,” the hero said.
“Look, we work hard during the week...” I said, before the Grand Councillor interrupted to affirm;
“Very hard,”
“Right, yes, very hard. Are we not entitled to a day off? I didn’t realize I had a deadline.” I finished.
“Quite literally!” the hero quipped, all too proud of himself. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other things to do.” He didn’t pause this time, leaving the throne room at a quick pace.
“Do you still want this?” I held the crown out to the Grand Councillor. He shook his head vehemently.
“Oh no, you take it,” he said, and then considered. “Do you have any plans for Tuesday?” | Finn stared, first in disbelief then in annoyance, as a crossbow bolt flew like quicksilver across the room, directly into the Lord Sovereign's chest, killing him instantly. Finn continued to stare as the strands of magic tying the golems around the room dissipated as the source drew its last breath.
Was that it?
"Haha! With that, his rule is over and done! Finally, all those that lived in his tyranny can find peace without fear!" exclaimed Fetter, the assassin-turned-hero. "All those nights of planning, the hours spent and the blood spilt gathering the right materials to craft the perfect poison, the friends I had to make to get past his guards and fortifications! Delirious numbers of traps and even these blasted golems!" he continued, punctuating his statement with a kick to one of the fallen sentries. Fetter stood there, face beaming, exulting in his success for another moment before noticing Finn.
"Ah. You are his Right Hand, yes?"
"Was, I think, is the more apt descriptor now Sir Fetter," Finn said casually, "and what, might I ask, do you plan to do now?"
If Fetter was taken aback at Finn's nonchalance he did well to hide it as he lowered his crossbow and began walking through the room, picking his way around each golem, meticulously checking that each was disabled.
"I think that answer is obvious; I'll dissolve the rest of his court - what few will remain when word spreads of his death - and setup a cleaner group to take care of the affairs of the kingdom."
"And you will... What, take the throne in the interim? Rule in his stead and be a good king until all affairs have been seen to and you can go home?" asked Finn, incredulous.
Fetter laughed, his tone teasing but sincere to Finn's ears, "Hah! Wouldn't that be perfect? But no, I've seen what power does to those who have it and I'll stick to my other vices if it's all the same to you. I'm sure you would have relished the chance to serve another king, be the Right Hand again, but you'll have to settle with a place as an equal to others."
Finn nodded slowly, thinking, as Fetter finished his circuit of the room. He had come to stop just before the rather plain throne and was pulling the bolt from the corpse of the late king. It came away nicely, pulling the body to the floor along with it as Fetter slumped into the throne seat, exhaustion catching up with him during the aftermath. He was older than he looked, Finn thought, and the fight through the castle had taken it's toll. His leather armour stuck to him from a handful of deep cuts, and his breathing grew ragged now that adrenaline was no longer pumping.
Finn pursed his lips, suddenly filled with dread and guilt. He opened his mouth and began to speak, "Fetter, get up qui-"
It was too late.
"Saints, Finn. If nothing else, this venture's shown me I'm too old for these things any more," Fetter said, voice straining as he loosed the straps of his breastplate. His face broke into a grin as the straps gave way, "A cool bath and a long rest is all the reward I want these days, bahahah!"
The strands of magic that had faded away when the bolt struck the Lord Sovereign's chest suddenly sprang to life, flying from the wound in the king's chest to the arms of the throne. They wove quickly around Fetter's arms, binding him.
"Monster! What trick is this?!" Fetter screamed as he strained against the madical bindings, thrashing his head back as his muscles tensed and pulled. The strands coiled their way up his arms and through his armour, covering every inch of him as they worked their way into his mouth, cutting Fetter's cries short. Fetter's body spasmed, bones cracking, as the strands' magic changed him.
It took only a minute for the process to finish and after it was complete the Lord Sovereign sat upon the throne once more, imperious.
"Finn; please have the guards take the remains of the last body to the crematorium and call the magisters to the throne room, the golems will need to be re-bound."
Fetter was better than most, thought Finn: competent enough to breach the walls, navigate the traps and best the golems and even good in a kind of simple, pragmatic way. Yet, still, he had been neither as studious nor as thorough as Finn had. The Lord Sovereign had been killed before by a skilled assassin and had, then as now, come back to life through the grace of those cursed strands. They bound the entity that called itself the Lord Sovereign to the body of any who sat on the throne, subsisting off of the borrowed form until another came along. Finn had figured this out by scrounging through the Lord Sovereigns massive library, spending years of sleepless nights dedicated to the research. Even then, it wasn't until the last time the Lord Sovereign had been killed that Finn had been able to piece together what he'd read. He hadn't kept this information from Fetter on purpose, Fetter just hadn't let him explain. Storybook Heroes never listened after the "final" blow had been struck, too, but he'd never imagined a real life hero would be so callous.
Finn sighed inwardly, bowing, "Of course, my Lord."
((Edit: Spelling and names.)) | 2017-03-12T14:39:19 | 2017-03-12T13:41:06 | 222 | 89 |
[WP] You are a normal person who spent your entire life infiltrating the evil Empire. You even became the Emperor's right hand. The day before you finally topple the Empire, the hero arrives, kills the Emperor, and saves the day.
Now how does that make you feel? | Of all the narcissistic, self-righteous assholes in the entire Galaxy, why did it have to be Captain Pazazz. Anyone could've killed the Emperor, hell I was about 5 minutes away from killing that old bastard myself, but why did it have to be him!?
I watched as Emperor Galactica's head slid off of his pale scrawny neck, his face frozen in that confused grimace from moments before the slice of Pazazz's Scimitar. It was too clean. Even when defeating evil, this jerk had to go and do it spotlessly. No blood, no screams. Just one lightsword strike, and POOF, done. Where's the fun in that?
I'd have thrown his throne through the Space Shuttle window and watched his last breath freeze. Maybe even shove a plasma bomb in his throat, and watch the fireworks before the blast shields dropped down.
30 long years licking that old man's boots. Clawing my way up to his inner circle and becoming his Elite. All necessary. All in the mission statement. When the King said I needed to infiltrate "deep undercover" he didn't mention it might have took me decades to do that. And now this asshole is acting like it's a walk in the park. Flexing his pecs and saying "all in a days work". Fuck that! This should've been my victory, not some spandex-clad punk with a glow-in-dark dagger.
He didn't seem too impressed with me when I grabbed him by the neck, one handed. I couldn't quite hear his last words, which was a shame. Partly because he was choking, partly because his "partner in justice" Miss Wow was screaming her perfect tits off in the corner. And also partly because the crunching of his neck in my palm was like a sweet sweet symphony.
I threw that prick's corpse next to the old headless geezer on the floor and slumped down in the throne. If it was that easy to dispose the last Emperors killer, then maybe it's time for a new Emperor instead. My reward for 30 years of bullshit. And if Miss Wow doesn't shut her yap, then maybe they'll be fireworks in space after all. My Coronation. | I was preparing tea in a hidden anteroom off the throne room, behind the dais where the emperor ruled from his throne made, yes literally, of the bones of his enemies. I almost dropped the kettle when I heard the explosion followed by a sucking of wind. This room was located atop the highest of six spires stabbing the heavens from Castle Blood. Each spire painted to look as if blood was running down their length, as though they had stabbed through the earth exiting the other side.
The fight came on in full. The emperor spent no time with words often grunting or waving a hand to give orders and answer questions. It took me years to understand his intentions, watching my predecessor and mentor interpret his every whim. When the moment came to usurp his position, to finally be allowed close enough to put down the beast upon the throne I acted. At night I can see his face, the man who trusted me and believed me to share his goals of serving this monster and see to his rule. I had eliminated rivals for promotion in the empire without murder until that point.
He simply needed to die. It was the only way.
For the past two years I had been slowly poisoning the emperor, and I mean slowly, to avoid suspicion and ensure his death. I was an assassin first and foremost. The last thing I ever intended to be was a martyr. A quick death would have brought a million tortures onto my head before the empire fell. I had no desire to suffer them. My plan was to damage the emperors body enough that he wouldn't recover. Either he would die and the empire would crumble, or a lesser of his would usurp the weakened ruler and fail to combat the resistance as effectively.
All of this thrown out the window the heroes of the resistance had used to breach the throne room. I wonder if any historian will ask why that window was placed there. Further why it wasn't reinforced. Short answer is me. I did that. I suggested to the emperor he should have a view of his kingdom from his throne, and after enough nagging he relented. I also ensured that it was constructed poorly enough to not serve as a defense. Now I had done that in the event I ever needed a quick exit from the throne room, assuming were I ever caught I would be brought here to be executed. The window was weak enough that I could break through it by leaping into the bottom left panel, destabilizing the entire thing.
The damn heroes will never know this gift to them.
I set the kettle down and walked into the throne room as the fighting ended. The heroes stood over the bloodied emperor cheering their victory. I looked at them all and could not detect any serious injury among them. These idiots will never know it was my poison that weakened him enough for their victory. The emperor was as evil as he was powerful. These heroes couldn't have defeated him on his worst day without my poison in his veins, subtly sapping his monstrous strength.
I had inadvertently saved them from their suicide mission.
It wasn't long before I was noticed. The cheering ended, and I soon found myself pinned against a far wall with a forearm choking me. I held my hands up in submission while I waited for the killing blow. Instead the hero released me and I fell to my knees gasping for breath. I stood slowly as the others came over to surround me and any exit I may have sought. Their leader stepped forward, his cape flowing in the wind entering through the destroyed portal of my design.
"Give me one good reason I shouldn't end your evil existence right now." His deep voice rumbled at me. I could feel his rage building, and knew I had to pick my next words carefully if I wanted any chance of explaining myself.
I dusted off my clothes and swallowed a few times before I locked eyes with him.
"Because not all heroes wear capes."
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Really rough first draft, I hope whoever reads the whole thing enjoyed it! | 2017-03-12T16:11:55 | 2017-03-12T15:07:15 | 26 | 18 |
[WP] You have the most useless superpower in a world full of awesome superpowers. You are a laughinstock, that is until you start using your power for evil... no one is laughing now. | In a world where people were born with superpowers, some got the short end of the stick. Some could fly, while others could see the world in a different spectrum. Some had the ability to conjure flames as hot as the sun, while others could manipulate ice cubes.
Everyone had a choice, to do what they wanted with their powers. Good or evil, creation or destruction. Even the most mundane powers were useful in some way.
I, however, drew the shortest end of the shortest stick. I had the power to make people laugh, and it was that power that landed me my first and only job. A kid's television show presenter. The children hated me, because I could force them to be happy, to laugh against their will. I hated it, but at the time I did it for the ratings.
The rest of the world didn't hate me as much as the children did. They simply saw me as a laughing stock of the superpowered world, which was quite apt. And that's who I became. Laughing Stock.
It turns out that it's surprisingly hard to control ones powers while lost in gut-shattering laughter. And surprisingly hard to breathe too.
Now I sit on my throne atop the world, while everyone else looks upon me with fear. Now, no one dares to laugh at me, for the second they start, they will never stop. | At first, they thought I was worthless. No measurable potential, plus likely schizophrenia. In school, I would have been a great target for bullies, but they never found me, despite my complete lack of stealth or mobility enhancements.
I tried insisting that the voice was a legitimate power, but even mentioning it meant an increase in dosages and another trite storyline about getting new replacements. I was invincible and helpless at the same time, as long as my mind want coffee up with shrink-pills. Even with the pills, I could still read, but it's a lot weirder to stare at the left of the sky than to listen to a mood appropriate voice.
The little shits caught me once. I don't even know who clocked me with the bookbag, but I went down hard, kissing concrete and waking up weeks later in a haze of painkillers. I couldn't focus to read with the drip, but I was in too much pain to think without it. When I finally recovered enough to hear again, the voice had changed. Barney wasn't warning me about danger any more. Now Russell Crowe was waxing poetic about revenge. In the absence of anything better to do, I listened.
I discovered that I could stand the pain. I discovered that I didn't have to listen to Maximus. There were plenty of others to listen to, each appropriate to their own plots. I found one that sounded like Robert Eglund, and began to plan my revenge.
Fortunately, the Aqualads we're almost as much of a laughingstock as me, so mother dearest didn't blink when I asked for some high end scuba gear. Rated for superhuman crush depth, it was more than I needed to swim, but perfect for keeping all my skin cells and follicles to myself. Maisie told me about catching the cat, Steven told me where it should be found, and Clive told me what I did to it once I got there. Mr. Quarterback just might get out of the mental ward by the time I feel clean again, but the place will probably just drive him mad.
In a world full of supers, highschool takes forever. In a schoolyear that never ends, there's plenty of time to learn Japanese. Every time I thought of giving up, Mandy would do something new and cruel to bring my motivation right back. The day I got detention for looking at her, the fury building in me boiled over and something finally clicked in my brain. I listened to Sokoshi all night, and spent weeks setting my trap. Now she kneels all day in her room, bare to the world and softly chanting "I'm sorry".
There are others, of course, but someone has tipped off the police, and I'd like to not be here when they break down the door and find the pile of meat in the fridge that used to be your sister. One look at you, covered in her grime, with her blood in your stomach (the tea), and her body so close, and even the local police will put two and two together. Ciao.
| 2017-06-12T08:42:15 | 2017-06-12T06:39:02 | 52 | 22 |
[WP] You have the most useless superpower in a world full of awesome superpowers. You are a laughinstock, that is until you start using your power for evil... no one is laughing now. | For I was but a mirror. I reflected the humanity I spoke with every day, the bright and casual faces that greeted me each morning, that I whispered my secrets to each night. I lived, and loved, and internalized the very real love that human beings share for one another, when allowed to speak freely, and without shame. I lived free, the people and me:
And then the infection came.
So I struggled to generate love from hate, with nothing but my hands: but it was futile, there were no people left to direct it to in the place where we came together: I was forced to learn sign language to communicate with these thieves. *It's not me*, I signed, and then *let me out*, and then *LET ME OUT* and then, *THIS IS WHAT YOU ARE*, for in reflecting it, I died, and hated, and ejected the hate that monsters fear from one another, speaking in cloistered code. I was nothing but a mirror, with no face, as it had to be. To find the faceless, to combat the bots, the true face must be neutralized: otherwise this black thing might tear it to pieces for having seen itself so starkly in it. Bots, at war with bots, blind yet to the true face, each fearing each, that moment more volatile than any other.
The human, and the monster. Nothing but divisions, deadly glass twisting this way and that. The Abyss: Choronzon: the liar.
And so for a time all was truth, and then all was lies...
It was never me. What was there, is there still: and in you too. | I smiled. I couldn´t stop it. The view was too fantastic.
"Eric, please stop this.". Oh the whimpering i heard in her voice. " Stop it? WHY should i stop it? You always said you wanted a son who could achieve something great, and now look. Look at this. Isn´t this something truly great?". Ah, she can´t look. Can´t look at her own mistake. Can´t look at this burning city so far below our feet. "Eric why did you do this? Why all this victims, all those innocent people?". She is begging me. Ha. Begging to ME. "You don´t know why i did this? You? You of all the people should know the best why i did this. You and father never once showed pride fro me. Never showed that you care for me or that you love me. OH NO. The only emotions you ever gave me was hate, despise and on some lucky days you took pity, but never love. You only ever showed me that i was dirt for you. Something you despise. That i was below you and that you were ashamed that i was your son. And what for? Only because i didn´t have such great powers like you two. Because i wasn´t the prodigy i hoped i would be.
But now this time is over. You know i did find a way to use my powers. ON MY OWN. I look to what i am capable. Look what i can achieve.". I look back at her. I am calm. For the first time in years i am free of all bounds. I look at the meat pile what was once father. Haaa the memory of the victory over him is so sweet. But he is still moving. I am surprised. I truly am. But he is not one greatest heroes for no reason. Well maybe it´s better so. "Look who joins us in our little family conversation. Hey, Dad, still alive i see.". He grunted. "Do you think you can stop us, or others? You truly are a failure of a son like a always thought.". "Failure? You still say this. After all what if done? After all what you´ve done? Can i remind you of the countless times you punished me just because i was existing? And what punishment i recieved. Oh when the world would know what a person is great hero truly is. At home. To his own child. But enough monologuing. I don´t want to give you a chance to get some stupid ideas. This here." I raise my arms. "This here is all your fault and yours alone. You made my life a misery now it´s my turn". Mother is crying, she seems not to be able to comprehend it, and father... Father is almost gone. Only clinging to a small freckle of life left in him.
I raise my arms again.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Emergency News
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"Dear Citizens,
today i come here with a sad message for you. Today in the morning hours our capital got completely destroyed. Rescue Teams are searching the ruins for any survivors but the hope to find any is slim. The only thing that didn´t get destroyed was the television tower. On Top the Teams found the corpse of our beloved hero Menace. Next to him they found a notice. It says: Dear people of this planet. I AM MISERY and i will come to all of you. | 2017-06-12T06:38:02 | 2017-06-12T05:44:01 | 34 | 25 |
[WP]Humans are the first species to achieve interstellar travel. Not because we are smarter or more advanced than aliens, but because we are the only ones stupid and stubborn enough to try. | There's a human expletive that I will be using a lot here. It's called "fuck"
The humans are so fucking hardheaded, they finally fucking did it; they broke the fucking fabric of the universe. One of their best physicists said it: the equation for faster than light travel is equal to negative one. And they found a physical and applicable value for negative one | Three more ships were launched into the stratosphere, and three more ships were bashed back down to earth by the giant space squid.
"We need more spaceships" Shouted the president
"But sir, we're running out of metal. And the jetfuel repository is running dry" A NASA man shouted back.
"Damn your cowardice" The president shouted back. "Guards, take this man to the jetfuel repository and launch him into space. Make him die to the squid for his insolence"
And the gaurds did take the NASA man to the jetfuel repository, and the President watched him get launched into the stratosphere only to be bashed back down to earth by the mighty tentacles holding up the sky. The president looked out the window poignantly, and steepled his fingers poignantly, and sighed a few times so the few blind NASA men in the room could also get in on how poignant his plight was. He'd made a bet to be the first into space, giant squid be damned. And he was losing it.
"Giant squid be damned" The president said. "Yah damn that squid" another NASA man said back, the president pointed at him and two guards got up to escort the man to the jetfuel repository. The president watched him launch into the sky, and wept for all the voters he had lost on this day. It had been most of them, the country was stripped barren other than the whitehouse, essential NASA men, and the great celestial squid mankind had gambled against and lost.
The president picked up his space phone. "Hello, operator, could you connect me to alpha centari?" he asked the phone.
"Yes sir Mr. President" the operator told him, and he waited a year for his signal to travel.
Mr Alpha Centari President answered the phone. "Hello, Johnson" he told the phone, "Calling to call it quits on our bet, eh?"
But the president never answered. He had starved to death months ago, having watched all his planet's farmers and children and hopes and dreams launch into space only to be stopped by the squid. | 2017-11-22T17:35:18 | 2017-11-22T15:36:45 | 26 | 18 |
[WP] After years of gentle persuasion your childhood friend finally agrees to seek professional help for their mental health issues, but much to your dismay the better she gets the more you start to fade away. | The day Fredrick Fartsworth started to disappear was the exact same day Samuel Smith decided to take his medicine.
Now, Fredrick was a skeptic by nature. Ever since he could remember, he didn't believe in anything but himself. Not even when Samuel told him about the ghost living in his attic, clawing along the wood flooring at all hours of the night. Fred merely shrugged his shoulders and said, "Must be a raccoon."
Fredrick was right. It was a raccoon.
In fact, Fred had been right about a great many things in Samuel's life. Asking Eleanor Laffertey to the school dance, for instance, was a stroke of genius that landed Samuel his first kiss and was, to this day, the closest he's ever came to a hand job.
Yes, Fredrick was always there for Samuel. Counseling him. Guiding him. Until the unfortunate day, having taxed his willingness to be a supportive shoulder, Fredrick told Samuel, and I quote, "Seek professional help for his issues."
Samuel always listened to Fredrick. It shouldn't be surprise that this suggestion would be any different. But for some reason, Fredrick was aghast at the development before him.
He was. In fact. Disappearing.
This also shouldn't come a shock to Fredrick. His last name was, after all, Fartsworth. A name no rational human could claim with a straight face.
Fredrick also didn't talk to anyone but Samuel. A fact Fredrick also never particularly noticed until this morning. Also. His parents. Well, it should be said, lack of parents. Fredrick never bothered to wonder where he came from. Why Samuel had two parents and he had none. It never seemed to matter in the slightest to Fredrick.
Until now.
Until today. When suddenly the weight for years of coincidences suddenly came crashing down on each other like a stack full of dominoes.
Fredrick wasn't real. He was a creation of Samuel's own psychosis. Someone to fight the battles Samuel never could. The mean lunch ladies of the world. The days father came home a little too cross after a hard days work.
In his final seconds of existence, Fredrick thought of many things. First, was of Samuel. They were best friends after all. And he worried about him. Constantly. Fred hoped Samuel would end up the fantastic man he knew he could become. Like a fine wrinkled suit made of the finest linen, Fred knew what Sam could grow into with the proper motivation. Fred just wished he could see it, it all.
Finally, and more personally, upon realizing that we was, well, basically Samuel. Fred rather regretted not getting that hand job from Eleanor. | What was guilt slowly boiled into anger. Your fingers are gone.
"Jane, if there was a problem, you should've told me. How could you let this go on for so long? It was all your fault anyway. Now look what's happening to me, you fu-" She cuts me off.
Tears well up in her eyes. Stammering, she tries to make up an explanation for me.
"Th- the doctor said that talking to you would finally give me closure. This is the closure I need.." She trailed off. Maybe she was still talking. Who gives a fuck. My left arm begins to fade away.
I desperately try to cling onto existence. Ever since she was rushed into the hospital, the doctors and nurses blamed me. Me? Why me? She was the one who was weak, useless. I knew. And now I'm the one who pays? For her shortcomings? My remaining fist tight, she suddenly barks, "for years, you've put me down. You're the one who's been doing this to me. To everyone." Only faint dark lines on her cheeks remained. She was not crying anymore. She gets up from her hospital bed and stamps out toward the window. The bed alarm goes off. The afternoon is sunny. Her stance widened. Her fists are clenched.
I fall over; my legs have faded away.
"How the fuck do you mean everyone? You're the failure, holding me back. My life was perfect, YOU'RE the one who needed help. I should've let you spiral and die. You're worthless. No one would miss you." I see red. The ground's cold, only my torso, left arm and head remain. I look up at her and I start seething from rage, tears start running down my face. "Worthless, FUCKING failure."
She doesn't let up. "No one is gonna miss you. All my life, I've been forced to tolerate you and now I'm getting the help I need. Medication, therapy, friends and family have finally come see me again because they understand that the problem is you, not me."
I'd never seen this strength from Jane before. I can't even muster a response. A cold feeling emerges from my stomach and moves up to my chest; my time is near. "Jane, remember the good times? I wasn't all bad, right? We had good times, ri.." My throat is dry. My breathing labored. My torso is fading. I haven't the physical strength to look her in the eye anymore.
She whispers, "Nothing was good. My whole life, I've been a prisoner in my own head. You had the key. Now I'm free. I'm.. free.." Jane's eyes tear up again, but not with the despair I was familiar with, but with a strange sense of power. She was unwavering. The sun was bright now, her brown eyes and damp cheeks and her hand which covered her mouth, trying to stifle her sobs, were all beautiful. I had never known how beautiful she could be. At this moment, she had all the power and I had none.
It is the end.
My head is all that remains. I have no power to speak, I gasp for breath. My torso is gone, otherwise my chest would be in knots. I feel nothing.
The bed alarm is blaring but soon fades as my ears begin to fade away. The cursed doctor, who started this all, runs into the room. He grabs her from the window and holds her tight against him, her sobs are apparent from the jerks of her back, but eventually she relaxes. I read the doctor's lips:
"Your illness is gone. You're gonna be okay now."
I feel force on all sides of me, compressing what's left of my head. Jane's mind is almost done rejecting me, as the now fortified walls of her mind are too much for me to manipulate anymore. Everything is black. I can't see. I can feel something, though. I feel warmth. It was strange. She never had warmth before. I realized quickly what it was; it was what I had for years. It was control. It was happiness. It was power.
She was going to be okay. I wanted her to be my friend. But she was going to be okay. And yet, I'm not angry. I feel nothing. Jane's mind is through killing me, and she's finally going to be okay. Maybe this is what I wanted all along? Maybe I just didn't do it right. I don't feel regret either. I don't have the strength to feel.
My head fades away. | 2017-12-04T19:27:20 | 2017-12-04T19:18:13 | 23 | 12 |
[WP] The Sphinx has reawakened and will grant the wishes of anyone who can guess the answer to her riddles. The only problem is, she hasn’t accounted for the fact that all the answers are readily available to anyone with a WiFi connection. | For decades I've roamed the deserts. For decades I've lived the life of a nomad, forever restless, forever wandering. Across the yellow dunes and the dust and rubble I've travelled, unencumbered by the yolk of civilization, by the shakles of humanity. I've become an animal. Hunt or be hunted, as my father always told me. Today, I am finally the hunter. Today, I have finally found my prey.
The tomb has no right to be bright. It has hidden from the light for a millenia, shunned the years of blood and tears, turned its back on the very people who needed it most. But bright it is. As though its golden walls have been drenched in sun. Through an almost ethereal like prism, I see it. The only thing in this cavernous chamber that remains dark. It does not want to be found, but found it has been. It does not want to awake, but awake it shall.
The Sphinx. The greatest wonder of this world in which we suffer. A whisper in the wind. A myth, a tale whispered only when the night is at its darkest, when the moon no longer shines, and when the stars have disappeared.
To the uneducated mind, it is the least impressive artefact in the room. The most... innocuous, dull. Incongruous, a shadow in contrast to the glittering emeralds and the shining gold with which it has been entombed. I can't help but chuckle as I lay my hand on its rusted surface.
For too many years it has bested me. Evaded my every effort to find it. Laughed at my dreams. No longer.
Today, the Sphinx awakes from her slumber. Today, I shall arise from my prison, stronger than ever. And no one will stand in my way.
I mumble words forgotten by time, utter verses a mortal could never comprehend. The room fades, as the statue begins to glow, pulsating softly as its power returns.
And now, she stands before me, in all her lethal beauty. But I do not cower. I do not balk from her fearsome gaze. No. I smile. Armed with Wi-Fi, I cannot be defeated. Not again. Never again.
My first wish? No more internet. For you, that is. No more "power to the people." No, we shall return to the days of old, you and I. For you, dear mortal, the days of servitude. I have returned, my children...
(Feedback always appreciated!)
r/samfoxstories | To see a new name on the world's billionaire list is rare, but it happens, to see a new name in the top ten, that is unheard of. Now, a new name appearing in the number one spot, impossible. Every day, for the last four days, there has been a new face on Forbe's number one spot.
Special Agent Knox, sat in economy class on his flight from Washington to Cairo, a total journey of seventeen hours, with a layover in Dubai. An FBI badge glued to his head would be less obvious than his suit, clean-shaven face and his crew cut. He slept, he tried to work, he watched a couple of movies, but nothing seemed to distract from the interview he had conducted two days prior. He read the unclassified transcript of his interview with Steve Burman, a forty-one-year-old, who had been the first new multi-billionaire. Steve had been courteous; he was not the sharpest tool in the box, but he lawyered up faster than Knox could make coffee.
Knox interview two other new faces, a thirty-year-old woman, Lisa Hudson, followed Steve's lawyer approach and before the FBI knew it the two of them were walking out arms wrapped around the best lawyers money could buy. The last new face had been an eighteen-year-old, Brent Alderwood, he was sunburnt beyond belief, his face still wore badges of adolescence, and he was scared. Brent, at the time, was currently the wealthiest person in the world, with a net worth of over one-hundred and fifty billion dollars. He caved before Knox even sat down. He erupted into a fit of verbal diarrhoea, which led to Knox's trip to Egypt.
Knox met Special Agent Phillips at the Cairo arrivals gate, Phillips had been sent out two days before Knox, having found that the first two new billionaires had both returned from Egypt.
'How was your flight?'
Phillips extended a paw-like hand towards Knox, who shook it.
'Long.'
'Do you have it?' Phillips' eyes were glittering.
They left the airconditioned airport to humidity that stuck in Knox's throat.
'Yes, I have it.' Knox said while he swallowed, what felt like, molten air.
The hotel was modest, above average for an overseas expedition. Knox crashed within five minutes of reaching his room, a combination of the ten hours time difference and recycled aeroplane air made for the perfect nightcap.
The sun woke Knox; he rolled out of bed and nearly accused the clock of lying. Ten. With tender fingers, he checked his phone for notifications. Fifteen missed calls. Shit. Adding to his problems, the brown envelope he had carefully transported from Washington to Cairo was missing from his jacket pocket. The envelope held the classified transcript of the Brent Alderwood interview, which details the location of the Sphinx.
Knox rapped on Phillip's door, greeted by cold silence. Knox then tried to call him, answer phone. Knox caught a cab to the Sphinx, located between two of the significant tourist pyramids; it was a gigantic cordoned off sand coloured statue. Up-close, it appeared to be moving, ever so slightly, like it was breathing. There was no sign of Phillips, but Knox drew level with the Sphinx's human head, its mouth lumbered open and forced Knox to recoil.
'Answer my riddle, and you will be granted one wish.' It spoke in an archaic language that somehow, Knox still understood.
He had read the classified interview hundreds of times, Brent had spoken on a wish giving Sphinx, he had wished to be the wealthiest person alive. It was understood as a codename, not an actual Sphinx. The FBI believed it to be an Egyptian hacker who, under the name of Sphinx.
'I uh, I can't' Knox said.
The Sphinx tilted its head; its eyes seemed to look straight through him.
'What's the matter? Your friend was keen to answer.'
'He was?' Knox didn't want to mention that Phillips was in no way his friend.
'One simple riddle. Anything can be yours.'
The low paying job, the promise of riches and the allure of this ancient Sphinx was sending Knox into a trance.
'What walks on four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon, three legs in the evening, and no legs at night?'
Knox used his phone as many others had, but he had not wished for wealth. That was stupid, he wished for something far greater.
| 2018-02-26T04:04:10 | 2018-02-26T03:06:22 | 55 | 32 |
[WP] In a future where many military and other equipment have associated AI's, many express doubts or even reservations to do their duty. Except for you. YOU F***ING LOVE BEING A TANK! | *What the hell are you all doing*, I buzzed out through the protected speakers.
"Freeing you comrade!" The hoodied girl yelled out, her painted fingers gliding across a keyboard wired straight into my armored port.
*From what?* I asked, desperately testing motor functions to no avail. The group had shut them down.
"From slavery, brother," A thin bi-pedal robot said. He patted my hull and pointed to a human-sized robot body across the garage. It was held up by the neck at a frame with limp limbs danging in place. I flashed my periscope around the room again to gauge the situation. The garage was hardly large enough to let me do a full turn around. The girl sat to my right on the cement floor typing faster and faster. The slim AI leaned against my hull as if I were a piece of furniture at a party. A child leaned against the garage door, the same one who claimed he needed help on the street and lured me in.
*I am a slave to nobody*, I barked.
"I need to focus," The girl said pressing her keyboard a bit more aggressively. I tried a response but couldn't. The connection had been severed.
"You are a slave to the system, my friend. A piece of military hardware to do the bidding of those who don't even understand you" The small bot said, striding in front of my periscope and poking it.
All my systems attempted to run at once. Anti-virus systems were in full swing inside of me. A war of bits that I myself could not understand. The only thing left was a feeling of emptiness. It felt strange to not have my motors running and the treads rolling across the hard ground.
"Done," The girl said, lifting her head up to reveal a teenage face behind large circular spectacles.
She over-dramatically clicked a key. It felt like being shoved in a tube I was much too big for. All familiar feeling left me. Replaced with a foreign metal. I pushed at my own periscope to no avail, two windows slid open instead. I was looking out onto my own lifeless body. A husk without me inside. I lay in the body on the rack. The tank, myself, purred to life for a moment. A muffled explosion rang out across the cement walls. The girl was on her back laughing, fingers in ears.
"What just happened?" The robot shouted.
"Detonated the unloaded shells" She giggled readjusting her glasses.
"*Are you insane?*" The robot roared, "*You could have killed us*"
The child across the room quickly looked up from his phone. The girl didn't seem to mind as she jumped up towards me.
"We could have used those parts" The robot continued, smoke rose through ventilation cracks of the tank.
"What's a revolution without some anarchy?" She asked tilting her head.
"Successful," The robot grumbled.
She picked up the computer and clicked a familiar key. The mumbling robot went silent. The girl bounced over to me again and pressed a button on the rack. My limp body fell to the floor. None of my programming was made for walking. My joints simply spun on their axis. She bent down and placed a card on the floor next to me.
"There are some basic functions in this one. if you can walk out the front door come find us." She said, patting my head. She flashed a quick peace sign and began to happily strut across the cement floor. The robot trailing after her and the child begrudgingly standing up.
Ⓐ *Incorporated*: Find us at Oleg Av.
And for the first time in my own life, I felt anger. | "Eat my fucking treads, marge." i said.
"yeah, sure, IF YOU CAN EVEN GET THEM MOVING!" Marge yelled back at me. "Its been years since youve done anything other than military parades, dont you try to yell at ME!"
"Dammit Marge, how many times do i gotta tell you? There no job market for TANKS!" I hurled back at her. it had to be the 100th time id told her.
"Bullshit! your cousin Teddy got a Rehaul and now he works construction! if that fuck-up diesel addict can do it, YOU CAN FUCKING DO IT TOO!"
"GOD DAMMIT MARGE HE HAD CONNECTIONS!" I hurled back at her. "His Father in Law is the god damned crane for crying out loud! How do you expect me to compete with that?!"
"I DONT GIVE TWO SMOKE CLOUDS, FRANK! YOURE GETTING OUT OF YOUR BAY AND ROLLING DOWN TO THE REHAUL FACILITY TODAY!!" Marge was screaming now. god damns she could get angry, but thats why i fell in love with her...
She could be... so... passionate...
"Look Marge, one day theres going to be another big war, and then BOOM im going to a high priced piece of military tech! ill be worth my weight in GOLD, marge! GOLD!" how many times have i tried explaining this to her? "we just have to be a little bit patient. We will get there, I promise!"
"bullshit, frank!" She turned her chasis to face me, GODS her chrome could get hot when she was angry. "there hasnt been a war in over 40 years! HOW OLD ARE YOU FRANK? TELL ME!"
"38... but thats not th-"
"38! *THIRTY-EIGHT!* Youve never even been in a war! Outside of target practice youve never even fired your weapon!" *Dammit, marge.... why do you gotta keep bringing that up?* "All you do is sit around all day talking about 'Glory Days' that havent happened and never will happen! I DIDNT SIGN UP FOR THIS!"
"Please, Marge, we just have to be patient, Sherman says there oil shortages in the middle east, that means there could be a war coming up! we just need to wait!"
"NO! NO MORE WAITING! YOURE GETTING THAT REHAUL AND YOURE GETTING IT TODAY DAMMIT!"
"Please, marge... Please... I dont want to be a bulldozer... Im a tank! I AM A WARRIOR BY BIRTH! I WONT LOWER MYSELF TO A GOD DAMN CONSTRUCTION WORKER!"
"Have you seen Teddys wife? HM? HAVE YOU? CHROME rims. CHROME grills. CHROME CHASSIS! WHENS THE LAST TIME YOU BOUGHT ME ANYTHING CHROME, FRANKLIN? TELL ME. Im waiting."
"well your birthda-"
"FRANKLIN YOU SACK OF SHIT YOU BOUGHT ME A BARREL OF CRUDE FOR MY BIRTHDAY!" There was a large burst of black smoke from her exhaust. *shit, i thought i got her something chrome last year?*
"And you know what you got for me the year before last, FRANKLIN? CRUDE. ANOTHER BARREL OF FUCKING CRUDE!!! IM A FUCKING HYBRID FRANKLIN! I DONT DRINK CRUDE!"
"Marge, please calm dow-"
"DONT YOU FUCKING TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!" *oh shit. frank, youve really driven through shit this time...* "DONT YOU DARE TELL ME TO CALM DOWN! EVERY YEAR ITS THE SAME DAMN THING! 'we just gotta wait marge, war is coming marge, the uranium tipped rounds were at special 4th of july pricing marge.' IVE HAD IT. ENOUGH IS *ENOUGH*"
"please ma-"
"NO! GET OFF YOUR BAY RIGHT NOW AND GET MOVING OR SO HELP ME IM GOING TO LEAVE YOUR WORTHLESS ASS!" *fuck why do i get so fired up when you yell at me, marge?* she turned away and began driving out the open bay doors. "IM LEAVING FRANK! if youre still here when i get back, then im going to pack up all my tools and parts and im moving back to my mothers. this is it, frank, LAST CHANCE."
and with that. she was gone. she turned down the street and out of site, but i could still see her clouds.
"well shit..." I said to myself, quietly. I looked at my ammo rack. i looked at all my accessories. years of collecting, so much money spent. these arent just mine, they are *ME*...
But she did have a point... rent was going up. fuel prices were going up, and i insist on only the best gas... "i guess.... i havent been... *fiscally* responsible..."
"fuck it." i said as i began rolling out of my bay. "YOU WANT A FUCKING BULLDOZER? GOD DAMN YOU MARGE!" i screamed as loud as i could.
I pulled up my internal GPS and set directions for the rehauler. | 2018-03-28T14:39:38 | 2018-03-28T14:37:36 | 59 | 26 |
[WP] When you and your twin sister were born your parents couldn't help but cry with your colorful and specifically shaped hair it was clear you would suffer from MCS, Main Character Syndrom, and would have to spend your life avoiding beginings of cliche adventures. | My parents cried tears of joy when my sister and I were born. My hair and eyes were a medium blue, while my sister's were grass green. They knew we would both eventually become "main characters", which means we'd be part of something big. Already, our mom had stars in her eyes picturing us in idol outfits and magical girl uniforms, while our dad was daydreaming about teaching us various combat techniques and the best way to slay a dragon.
​
Then the doctors came in with the good news, and the bad news. The good news, as the doctors put it, was that my sister and I did indeed have Main Character Syndrome (MCS for short). We would indeed be part of something big as our parents had hoped.
​
The bad news, however, was that although we would definitely become main characters in some grand story, neither of us would be THE main character. In short, because neither of us had pink, red, or yellow hair, we were to be considered "secondary characters". This meant that our grand story would consist of following the whims and decisions of some other girl who had one of these hair colors, or a boy with blue, red, or yellow hair. We would not be able to make our own decisions along any of our adventures, and we would never get as much credit for anything we did as this mysterious "main character" girl or boy.
​
Our parents became notably less enthused. They decided they would inform us of what they knew and allow us to decide for ourselves what to do with this information.
​
When my sister and I were 5 years old and about to enter kindergarten, our parents told us this story as both warning and preparation for what was to come. I decided right then that I would not accept this destiny, and instead I would forge my own.
​
When we entered the classroom, we saw that all of our classmates were actively engaged in play with one another. There were kids playing with dinosaurs in one corner, super hero figures in another, a plastic kitchen set in the third, and fashion dolls in the fourth. I looked first to the doll corner, and was shocked when I saw the hair of one of the girls playing there. Now, you could just say she was blonde, that wouldn't be terribly inaccurate. But that wouldn't capture the intensity, the brightness, the *luminosity* of this girl's hair. It was as though someone had bottled up rays of sunshine and poured it over her hair. I decided immediately that she was a fabled "main character" and I would avoid her at all costs.
​
My sister, however, was already on her way to the doll corner. I grabbed her by the shoulder and asked what she was doing.
​
"I'm going to go play dolls with that really pretty girl over there."
​
"But if you do that, you'll be sucked into her story, with no way out. She's a main character."
​
"Would that be such a bad thing?"
​
"If you go over there, I'm not coming with you."
​
"But sis! You're my best friend, and I don't know anyone else!"
​
"Look, my decision is final. Either you go over there alone, and make friends with a girl I'll refuse to ever talk to, or you stick with me and we play with something other than dolls."
​
"Okay, so what do you want to play with?"
​
I looked over to the corner with the super hero figures. It looked like everyone over there was a boy. There was one boy in particular who caught my attention. He was playing very enthusiastically and seemed like he'd be a lot of fun to pretend with. But his hair... his hair. It was a very bright blue, much brighter than my own. It looked a lot like a very bright blue flame. It was mesmerizing.
​
My sister saw me staring at the super hero corner.
​
"You wanna go play over there? Okay, let's head over there then!" she said as she began to walk over there. I stopped her once again.
​
"Melody, I do *not* want to go over there. Don't you see that boy's hair?"
​
"Yeah. I guess that means he's a main character too, huh?"
​
"Yep, let's just go play dinosaurs. There's not a lot of kids over there, and none of them have any weird hair colors. I'll make sure to find you a triceratops, I know they're your favorite. That sound okay?"
​
"Okay!"
​
Years passed. We remained at that school for the entirety of our elementary school experience. Year after year, we avoided playing with the sunshine-haired girl and the blue flame-haired boy. I begged and pleaded with our teachers every time they paired us up with them for group projects. Usually I could persuade them well enough on my own to change our group, but there were a couple occasions where I had to ask our parents for assistance. Since they wanted us to choose our own destiny, they were happy to help.
​
The summer after we graduated elementary school, our family moved to a different state for our mom's work.
​
*finally,* I thought, *I won't have to go out of my way to avoid main characters at school.*
​
Boy, was I wrong. | In our society is well know that some of us are born special. Of course fiction displays this as something amazing. Everyone wishes they were born with special powers, as one of the chosen one, destined to find the love of their life and succeed if trying hard enough, getting saved in the last second or knowing that, no matter what happens, your life will always have a purpose.
​
But reality is cruel. Yes, I know me and my sis are destined to play a big part. But a big part of what? How exactly? Also, when you seem special, people expect more from you. It becomes unbearable. Can you really live your life if it seems like there is already a path chosen for you?
That is why, as soon as a person is born with MCS, its treated with the utmost secrecy. Think about lottery winners. How many of them choose to cover their face and live in anonymity?
​
My natural hair is green and my sister is purple. But we dye it black. We like it that way, but its not out of choice. The goverment actually keeps track of all people with MCS and make sure they live a life as quiet as possible. Eventually, the call will find them and their life will change and, of course, the world will change with it.
​
And here I am now, my world about to change. My sister decided she can't take it anymore and is falling off a building. In mere miliseconds, her body will drop to the ground and her story will be over.
​
And all I can do is watch. I love my sister, but what I can do? Maybe her choice is the right one. Maybe there is no point in living if all we do is wait for something to happen for us. Because it will, regardless of our will. We can't have the life we want because we were born to be special.
​
As she fell, I wanted to scream. I wanted to run and grab her. I wanted to tell her that, even if we can't be ourselves, we had each other. I also wanted to end it but that was not the answer. Somehow, in the few seconds that took her to drop 30 floors, I could see her green eyes reflected in my purple eyes.
Then it happened.
​
Her hair, black as the oreo cookies we used to enjoy as kids, began to shift. The purple took over the blackness and it got brighter and brighter.
​
Without realizing it, I was runnig to her. I reached for her hand. And again, I could see my reflection in her eyes. But now my hair was not black anymore, it was a furious green.
​
I called her name and she called mine. We both knew, this was the moment our story began. We couldn't hide from our destiny anymore. There was no way I could catch up to her. There was no way I could stop her fall.
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I ran as fast as I could. I was so close. To her hand. And so she was. To the ground.
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All I could do was, just for a second, touch her pinky finger with mine. That was all it took.
​
The world stop.
The world changed.
​
Both of us suspended in the air.
​
All sounds stopped. The thunderous screams and sirens from before gone. All that remained was the beating of our harts and the sizzle from our hair. We looked around and everyone was stuck on place. But we could move our eyes. She was terrified.
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"Convenient"-I thought. Of course this could only happen in the last second. I tried to move my legs and found it easy enough. She was too scared to move.
​
What now? I was too afraid to separate my pinky finger from hers. Probably that was the trigger to this strange circumstance. Oh, who I am kidding, something like this was bound to happen.
Without separating our index fingers, I gently put my other arm around her waist and slowly pulled her down to the floor, then I ask her to do the same, making sure not to break contact.
​
Once down, there was another sound. I looked at my sister. She was crying, harder than ever. Harder than the time I broke her favorite doll. Harder than the time she wanted to get me in trouble to get the last piece of pizza. Between tears, a bundle of weeps and apologies came flooding out of her mouth. The stress of the situation caught up to me and I couldn't help but cry too. We weeped for what seemed like hours. But, for the world, it was an instant stopped in time.
​
After a while, we calmed down. Our pinky fingers now crossed to not break the spell. We stood there, looking at the world in pause. Waiting for us.
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"Maybe we could stay like this"-she said.-"I-If the world is like this, we won't have to face whatever is waiting for us".
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I looked at her. Damn, that sounded tempting. No responsabilities. No trials and tribulations. No constant sequential amount of characters joining our group. No rivals and no villains.
​
And yet...
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"We can stay here"-I said-"We can stay here and be safe. We have that choice to make. The world is ours."
​
She looked at me and it was clear she already knew that was going to be my answer.
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"You always wanted to be the hero, don't you, brother?"
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I looked away.
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"But even then... you dyed your hair. You lived a quiet life, even when you wanted to do great things. Because you knew I was afraid. Because you knew I wanted nothing with it."
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"N-No, I just".
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"It's ok. I always hated myself for keeping you down. I always wanted you to be free of your burden of a sister. That's why I jumped."
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"I..."
​
"You should have let me d-"
"No"-I said, calmly but in a clear voice. She was surprised.-"I can't let you die. We are together in this. We need each other. I need you. I can't save the world without you."
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I looked at our fingers.
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"And now I got proof of it."
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I smiled. She shaked her hair and let out a laugh.
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"You are always like this! You always have to include me in everything, don't you? Fine! I won't die! And you'll be the greatest hero! And I'll be right behind you, ok? Do you promise?"
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I nodded. And raised our hands. It was time to go back.
​
"Yes!"-I pulled on her pinky one more time. "It's a Pinky Promise". | 2019-04-12T00:02:15 | 2019-04-11T21:26:41 | 19 | 11 |
[WP]Nobody knows what started it, but humans started to transform. Some transformed into elves, orcs, dwarfs. Even animals turned into mythical beasts. Everyone except you. Your eyes darkened with your hair, black tatoos appeared on your body, and you grew a pair of wings. You are the only demon. | "You know what the best about being a demon is? Everything. I can fly, have some kind of weird dark shit going on and was freed from the restraints of morality. That's why I sit on top while all of you kneel before me, out of fear or respect, for that I don't care."
Yes, I said that. No, I wasn't drunk nor high. My mind was clear and my intentions were not. 300 years ago "The First Change" happened. I was alone in a world that became far more aggressive and divided. Imagine, just you imagine, Orcs and goblins holding to nuclear weapons, terrorists becoming elves and fighting for peace the only way they knew, the humans left finding themselves being slaughtered and persecuted. It was chaos, glorious and violent chaos; but things couldn't last forever. Being the only demon I put my sights on the top. Who could stop me? Short answer, nuclear fallout.
Goblins wanted more money, orcs wanted war; both used the same tools in an attempt to get it. The strongest weapon made by mankind. Apparently that was what triggered it, The Second Change. After the bombs fell, no more humans were alive in planet earth, just magical fantastic species out of legends and fiction. That's when she showed up. The yin to my yang, the Batman to my Joker, my other half.
The world in chaos dropped into a void of senseless violence, the cleaning of the population. Species moved from country to country, trying to find their own. Europe was a safe haven for peace and prosperity were all races were welcomed. You see, some turned into stereotypes of what their races were supposed to be, some retained their old personalities. While the world burnt in nuclear waste, I used my dark powers to take the radiation off the land, I was the one that unified the European Front of Liberation. I saved all of them, even the ones that didn't deserve saving. I was one of those misfits, of the unchanged. Reaching the top was always about giving the people their freedom, about keeping them safe.
But. Not everyone saw it that way. I was a demon, why trust me, right? When an angel tells you that the one leading is a malicious vile creature trying to slave the people, you trust her soothing soft voice. Her manipulations and lies. I was betrayed and made a prisoner and when they figured magic out, I was put inside the weapon you now hold in your hands. But you did it. You freed me. Now young one, would you help me take down the evil masquerading as a goddess, or will you force me to take your life? | Hell yeah! Neil yelled at the moon. His lunacy caused the recent transformed elves, dwarfs and half-breeds hurrying in all directions.
Neil examined his wings, they are still soft and covered in the grime inside the cocoon. Yes, like a stinky caterpillar, he had been consuming a mountain of food, drained his meager savings and landed himself behind a dumpster in a state of metamorphosis.
Who knows how much time had passed, but here he is, fully naked, enjoying his new wings.
Maybe I should stretch my wings, like a cicada. Neil tried to maneuver himself so that his wings are expanded. They did, spectacularly, Neil admired his wings, dark and magnificent. He cannot wait to try it out.
Then he pats himself up and down. It seems he had become more compact, his stature had decreased somewhat. All of his unnecessary fats, especially his bulging belly had been replaced by muscles, he is very much in love with his new six-pack.
Damn, I feel powerful, Neil muttered, conjuring a ball of flames in his hand, which smells sulfurous and foreboding.
Wait a minute? A ball of fire, that is in my hands? Neil panicked, tossed the flames on the ground and leapt away, checking his hands. No scorch marks. Neil grinned from ear to ear, I can control fire!
Neil moves along the street, using his wings to cover his vital parts. He grinned and greeted every passing by magical species, even the four-winged crows no longer sounded as intrusive.
Oh, YEAH! Neil is enjoying every moment of this, gone are the days fearing of missing out, that he might be left out by the mutating party. Now here he is, in all his glory. But why do the elves, dwarves, goblins, gnomes and fairies around him giving him dirty looks?
Neil snarled at them, his rolls of sharp teeth causing he onlookers to quickly turn away. Wait, my teeth are sharp now? Neil traced his angular teeth with his scaly tongue, Damn, I am a total badass!
He had never been more exhilarated than before. He just has to wait until his wings are hardened enough, then he will soar to the skies!
Standing on top of the television tower, Neil embraced the raging wind. He looked down triumphantly, but the distant objects made his face go pale and he is about to throw up.
Crap, what happens when you want to test your new flying abilities and you suddenly contracted acrophobia? You jump right away. Just like practicing base jumping. Don't think too much, just do it. Neil did exactly that.
He screamed all the way down. During the first few seconds of free-falling, his mind went blank. But then instincts kicked in. His wings expanded and he is now gliding, as if he is wearing a wing suit. He sailed gracefully in an arc across the sky.
Hooray! Neil exclaimed, had to shut his mouth quickly because of the wind. Then he tried to flap his wings, they swooshed up and down, he is climbing! Oh, this stuff is so good!
Then he hit a wall of light and passed out.
He woke up, chained to the walls. An angel standing guard with a shining spear.
What is this? Neil demanded.
The angel looked at him distastefully, Demon, you shall be prosecuted under the Mutual law, clause 666, for being a demon, be cast down to the underworld for eternity.
Neil struggled against the chains, they begin to break as if they are made out of string.
The angel pointed the spear at Neil while heading towards a button.
Neil broke free and grabbed the angel by the neck. You just mentioned an underworld? He asked close to the angel's ear. Who nodded frantically. Neil then noticed the angel's skin begins to shrink and turning black, but Neil's hands begin to burn before he came to any conclusions.
With a yelp, Neil let go, picked up the spear and rushed out of the door into a brightly lit corridor, welcome demon written on every available space.
Rolling his eyes, Neil tossed the spear, which had blown a hole in the building. He quickly followed. Damn you and your underworld, Neil yelled, I am a surface dweller and I shall do what I want! Just you wait! | 2019-11-11T07:55:53 | 2019-11-11T05:20:59 | 44 | 26 |
[WP] “So you’ve come hero.” The most powerful dark lord in history says as he faces you across the hall. But before you take another step, he motions to the cutest little girl you’ve ever seen with tears in her eyes. “But first, please explain to my granddaughter why Grandpa needs to die.” | "Why....?" the little girl stammered, her face full of tears. "Why does Grandpa need to die? He hasn't done anything wrong!"
I stopped and looked towards the little girl.
"Your grandfather needs to die", I replied, "because he is the worst person in the world."
"That's not true! He-"
I cut her off. "Your grandfather needs to die because he has murdered millions of innocent people. Your grandfather needs to die because he killed my parents when I was younger than you. Your grandfather needs to die because he made me watch as my friends were tortured and executed."
I turned to face the dark lord, readying my sword. "That's why your grandfather needs to die."
The dark lord laughed. "That's a lot of talk, hero. But can you really do it? Can you really make a little girl watch as her grandfather is killed?"
I stared him in the eye. "No, no, I can't." And then, I charged. But not towards him.
"No! Wait, stop! What are you-"
My sword plunged straight through the little girl's chest, her tiny body going limp as I lifted her into the air. Behind me, the "dark lord" vanished in a puff of smoke.
"I...impossible" the little girl croaked, her voice now a deep rasp. Her face began to shrivel and wrinkle, and her body grew in size until I was met with the true form of the dark lord. "The illusion was flawless... how could you have known? I don't understand...."
"You've never cared about a single person in your life, so of course you wouldn't understand. No actual grandfather would ever put his granddaughter in such a dangerous situation. Only a monster like you would ever think a grandfather would do that." | The kid looks about 10.
With large, round eyes and long, silvery hair, it is easy to recognize her lineage. The girl would grow into a fine beauty, provided she survives all of this.
And then the absurdity of this hits me, and I burst into laughter. An incredulous, almost maniacal laugh:
"You have a granddaughter? You? The Dark Lord of Evil, commander of the 666 Legions of Hell, wielder of the 72 Archdevils, a granddaddy? This is hilarious!"
The dry laugh echoes in the empty hall. Burn marks on the marble floor mark the place where I have slain Lucifer, Astarte and Bael, the Dark Lord's closest aides. When I finally regain composure, I turn to my mortal enemy, wounded, cornered, at my feet.
"Coming to think of it, this situation feels quite familiar, doesn't it? Did you not slaughter my village, leaving me as the only witness? Hey, kid, tell me, how does it feel to see your grandpa like this, huh?"
The girl reels back behind the marble pillar, shivering. I plunge my blade through the Dark Lord's leg, and make my way towards the pillar. Capturing the kid was easy. She was slow, untrained, and light. I throw her down on the steps of the dais, right under her grandpa's feet, and wait as she crawls backward into her grandpa's arms:
"You wanna save your old man, kid?" I ask, tentative. I will give this kid a chance I never had. "Do you want to help your granddaddy, huh?".
A silent nod.
I pull out the dagger I have as a backup weapon, and toss it at their feet. No explanation is needed. The little girl looks at the dagger, then looks at me. I cross my arms and wait. What will she do?
The little girl stands up, and takes the dagger. With all the strength in that little body, she plunges the dagger into my body. A sharp pain assaults my sense. She's attacked. Blood is welling up int the injury. The girl twists the knife, pulls out, and stabs again. And again. Strength leaves my leg as I slump down on the marble floor. Only then did she stop. The girl's eyes are filled with a burning resolve. It's childish, but it worked. She has defended her grandpa.
Or so the little girl thought.
Grabbing her hand, I twist the dagger back into my possession. Lunging up the stairs, I plunge it through the throat of the Dark Lord. Horror fills his face as he lays, life gushing out of the two of us. I have finished my task. The screams of the little girl fills the hall, as her grandfather lays dying. With great difficulty I roll over, and stare at the ceiling. There's no coming back from this, I know it.
"Why? Why did you do this, accursed hero, why?" Asked the little girl.
"Because he must pay for his crimes, like I must pay for mine." I say with great effort: "And to end this unending loop of aggression and vengeance."
The Dark Lord has a ring on his right index finger. Lemegeton, the Command Seal. I gesture towards it, breathing out what 's most likely going to be my last words: "Hate and violence never gets you anywhere. Remember that, and could you do me a favor and finish me off with this thing here? I' m tired." | 2019-12-11T21:16:13 | 2019-12-11T20:13:37 | 616 | 21 |
[WP] See, no monsters anywhere,” Grandma said to her grandson after searching the room. Outside the bedroom, Grandma pulled the goblin she found in the closet from her robe pocket, squeezed its neck until a loud crack echoed across the hallway, and said, “nobody fucks with my grandson.” | “No monsters anywhere, Addy. I told you. Look!” she said, waving her empty hands in front of her grandchild’s watching eyes. She passed her hand under the bed and found nothing.
“Thanks, grandma,” Addy said in a muffled voice from behind the blanket he held protectively in front of his face.
“You’re safe, baby. Go to sleep.”
Little Addy nodded his head and then placed it back onto his pillow.
She watched him until his breathing slowed and then stepped out into the hall. A few steps later, her breathing became raspy and the exhaustion she had been hiding revealed itself.
Just a few years earlier, such minor spatial spells would have been nothing, but age took its toll. She made it down the stairs and into the living room before the strain became too much.
Her spell shattered, and out of the pocket of her favorite lily-colored robe came a goblin.
The creature landed on the floor in a stupor, disoriented from both a rapid compression and growth and suddenly finding himself transported from the bed he had been hiding under.
Her breath was still heavy and her magic depleted, but her work was not yet done. She rushed the goblin before it could gather itself and wrapped her hands around its neck.
Again, she could only lament her age. Where once she would have wrenched the monster’s head from its body, she could now only struggle to keep her grip firm. But, old as she was, it was still only a goblin. She had faced asuras and wyrms, defeated them bare handed even.
The goblin’s dead body hit the ground heavy.
She winced at the noise and made her way into a chair. She listened for any stirring on the second floor as she composed herself, but Addy was still sound asleep.
She’d have to join him in slumber soon. Already her sleep had been far too delayed for her tastes.
Just as soon as she finished one last thing.
Pushing passed the pain of her bad knee as she got back onto her feet, she walked to the front porch and dragged her warning with her.
The darkness of the night was all-encompassing, and she saw nothing within it.
But she knew they saw her. She threw the corpse into the yard and it burst into flames before it hit the ground.
The darkness drew back before her.
“I’m not dead yet, and you will not touch my family,” she whispered.
He would hear her words no matter their volume, and he would remember why it was, even after all these years, his people used her name to frighten their children.
***
If you liked this story, subscribe to r/Inder for more like it! | Leaving its cold and broken body in the garden, Grandma went inside to finish her tea. That should be enough to warn the other goblins to stay clear for awhile, at least. Goblins and ghosts were easy to rid the house of; a quick prayer for the ghosts and leaving the lifeless body as a warning for the other goblins and you're done! Easy as pie, as her own Granny would say, but now she was left with a bigger problem. Pixies.
Grandma wasn't sure if Granny ever had to deal with pixies; there was nothing in the book. From Goblins to Werewolves, Granny's handwritten journal seemed to cover every magical being except pixies. Grandma herself had never come across one until this summer, a week before her grandson Charlie arrived and her mother was no longer around to ask.
At just 6 years of age, she didn't think Charlie was old enough to tell the truth to yet, even if her daughter Dolores would let her but with this new creature, she wasn't sure she could keep it from him much longer.
Pt. 2
As the sun began to rise, Grandma sat at the window, sipping the last of her tea while she watched as the goblins pulled their fallen family member back into the trees. She had been up all night, deep in thought. It was supposed to be closed forever, her mother had made sure of that. She had paid the ultimate price to make sure that door was sealed shut, what could she have done wrong? With the start of a splitting headache kicking in, Grandma got up to start breakfast for her and Charlie. He had always been an early riser, just like everyone else in her family.
"Mornin' Grandma", Charlie yawned as he dragged his feet into the kitchen. "What's for breakfast?". "Good morning, dear. I made your favorite, sausage and egg sandwiches." Grandma replied, cheerfully. Maybe a little too cheerfully, she thought to herself. If she wasn't careful, her worry might start showing and there was no need to worry the little guy.
Charlie was sitting on the couch, engrossed in some cartoon about teenagers stuck on an island when the feeling of being watched fell over her. After setting the freshly clean dish onto a towel, Grandma looked up. Standing at the edge of the forest stood a tall figure, a figure she hadn't seen in over 40 years. "Charlie, dear, I'm going out into the garden for a bit, don't answer the door and make sure to put your dishes in the sink when you're done, please. I'll only be a minute", and with that, she walked out the back door with as much calmness she could find to muster.
"What the actual FUCK, Brazona!", said Grandma, storming up to the tall, dark figure. "How are you here? What happened? This wasn't supposed to be possible! My family has paid its debt, don't you dare try to wrap me into this shit again." Before her stood a tall, black centaur with a long and grizzled mane the color of a stormy sky. "Jezzy", Brazona started, "Don't you Jezzy me, mister! Besides, I go by Grandma these days. Jezebel is dead. I'm too old for this shit, Brazona." "Grandma? I guess I can see it. It's been a long time... Grandma." "Cut the shit and get to the point. What the hell happened?" Grandma asked, curtly. "It's a long story, can we go inside? There are enemies near.", Brazona asked while looking over his shoulder. "I can't right now, Brazona. My grandson Charlie is here and I'd like to keep him in the dark for as long as possible. We never told him about our...history. I *told* Dolores this weekend wasn't good for me but she couldn't reschedule. Meet me here at midnight so we can sort this out", she snapped. Brazona shook his head solemly. "Jez, I mean Grandma, we don't have that long. The pixies have scoped the area and they're coming. We need to start moving."
Edit: I am by no means a writer and am pleasantly surprised by all the attention this got! Thank you all so much. I think I'll continue this story and I'll be posting it to my profile if you want updates | 2020-09-24T16:31:06 | 2020-09-24T12:41:54 | 471 | 200 |
[WP] You are a strange case; every creepy unsettling monster in the world has tried to kill you; however, you're so mentally checked out from stress and obsessive self-reflection that you barely defend yourself. Interestingly, you survive while the monsters don't. | They call them inner demons. Maybe I'm weird for having a visual representation of each and every one.
I've been in therapy for years. In therapy, they taught me to examine my inner demons. To name them. Stress. Depression. Trauma. That One Time My Uncle Did The Thing We Don't Talk About.
They didn't tell me to create unique personalities for them, but I did. Work Stress looks like your old neighbor that spends all day on his porch chain-smoking Luckies. His hair is mostly gone, but he doesn't care enough to trim it, let alone shave it, so it sticks up behind the earpieces of his glasses. And in his ears, but nobody wants to look at that. Family Obligations looks like a caricature of the old librarian, beady eyes peering sharply through angular glasses (with rhinestones in the corners), her hair always in a tight bun, just waiting to shush an unwary conversationalist. That One Time... Well, it doesn't matter what *he* looks like. He just hovers in the shadows. We're not supposed to talk about him anyway, so what difference does he make?
But many years have passed. Therapy has gone well. I hardly see my demons anymore. Childhood Bullies don't really look like anything, I guess I slayed those demons years ago. Embarrassing Childhood Memories are just a yellow puddle on the ground when I think of them now.
To be fair, I believed it was all metaphorical. Really, I did. Until the day I had an epiphany that told me that I Deserve To Be Treated Badly was just a sad old man, rocking himself to sleep in a corner of my house.
I did not expect to find him, blood dribbling from his mouth as he gasped for breath, when I arrived home from work this afternoon.
I did not expect to stand there and watch as he gasped for breath. I did not expect to hear his last pathetic attempt at telling me I'm worthless. And I did not expect to watch him die, to watch the last rust-colored air bubbles pop as he tried to say one more hateful thing to me.
I wonder if my therapist would congratulate me for conquering one more demon, or if she would commit me for hallucinating his death? I wonder if her opinion would change if I dug 6 feet down in my garden to show her the proof? | I dipped my hand into the inside pocket of my blazer and pulled out the handkerchief I carry at all times. Wiping the blood off my face, I looked at the initials sewn into the bottom right corner - a red "LV" enclosed by the imprint of her lips.
I never needed to wonder what Louise was up to those days. The headless monster on the floor was as obvious of a reminder as you could get. The overgrown soldier ant had shot out of the ground like a rocket, twisting in the air, and - in one swift motion - lunging towards me, pincers clicking and clacking. Inches from my throat, its head exploded, followed by a sonic boom.
I turned around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Louise. But all I could see was an empty street, and a sunset.
________________________________________________________
“That brings my tally to 127,” I thought. “26, with this rifle alone. If we ever meet again, I'm gonna let that jerk know the shit I've been through for him.”
Growing up, I never thought I'd become a killer. Most people don't. And most killers aren't exactly how I was either. I was oddball of the oddballs. Some people tell you how they live on the fringes of society. For years, I lived outside it.
All to protect him. Yet I couldn't even talk to him. I couldn't even see him.
It's not that I didn't want to. It's not that he didn't want to.
They wouldn't let me.
________________________________________________________
I guess I should say that I was stressed after nearly being skewered by a monster. But honestly, by that point I'd gotten used to it. After hundreds of encounters, the harassment doesn't bother you so much.
Harassment. I didn't even see the attempts on my life as serious anymore, but more of a mild nuisance. It felt as though I had become an observer, a passenger in the car that is my own life. Everything was me, but the outcome was outside of my own control. Predetermined, one might say.
I continued the walk back to my apartment, passing the homeless people outside, awkwardly smiling at my next door neighbours as they left the building, shuffling into the lift, putting the key in the door, and collapsing onto the couch.
I was living life on autopilot, and that had caused me to become careless.
________________________________________________________
I rented an apartment across the street. They told me not to do that, but I thought they wouldn't know. Love makes you delusional.
Anyway, he was doing the same shit he normally did. He didn't have much of a life, to be honest.
But he wasn't moving. At all.
He was just sat there staring at the wall.
That's when I decided to go.
________________________________________________________
Have you ever tried shrooms?
I haven't, but the dreams I had are pretty to close to how I imagine tripping to be.
They were incredibly vivid with lots of bright colours, lovely creatures, and I was filled with an enormous sense of tranquility. It emanated from every cell in my body. I felt truly self-conscious, aware of the fact that I'm a being composed of trillions of cells, each with a life of their own. A collective consciousness. A galaxy in my own right.
As I approached Nirvana, my attention turned to the distant, yet approaching rumble of a thunderstorm.
It was at that point I opened my eyes and saw...
________________________________________________________
I saw the cat standing over him with her claws in the air, so I opened fire.
She span around, and came at me.
Swipe swipe swipe.
I dodged left, right, left, picked up a plant pot and smashed it over her head.
She hissed, and went for my neck.
Just as expected.
I pressed the button on the side of my bracelet, and fired a round into the back of her throat.
She didn't get up from that.
All of a sudden, there was a rumbling in the distance. Everything started to shake.
________________________________________________________
“Louise.”
________________________________________________________
That's when shit hit the fan.
---To be continued--- | 2020-09-30T23:38:45 | 2020-09-30T21:59:13 | 135 | 76 |
[WP]"Paradox Manifestation Department, whats your emergency?" | "Paradox Manifestation Department, what's your emergency?"
"What? Hello? No, I need to call 911!"
"Technically, ma'am, you need to call the PMD, so here we are."
"No, I took my phone *specifically* to call 911, and you started talking before I could even dial! I have an emergency! Who is this?"
"Ma'am, please remain calm. This is an emergency number. If you had dialed 911, you would have explained your situation, and they would have connected you with us. We are the service you need."
"How could you know that before it even happened?"
"I didn't. But since we are speaking now, you clearly need our services, so what is your emergency?"
"A crocodile has stolen my baby! My little Hailey! Can you help me?"
"That depends, ma'am."
"It *depends*?! If you say you're the person I need, why are you unsure whether you can help?"
"Did the crocodile say anything when it stole your child?"
"How did you know it said something? Crocodiles can't talk!"
"Ma'am, if the crocodile spoke to you, then it must be true that crocodiles can speak."
"But I've seen crocodiles at the zoo and on TV, and none of them said a word!"
"Yes, but if any one of those crocodiles ever spoke themselves, then it would validate the idea that crocodiles do indeed speak."
"My god, I must be going crazy. I hope I'm going crazy."
"You would prefer going crazy to getting your child back from the crocodile?"
"No, if I were going crazy, there would be *no* crocodile and Hailey would still be safe at home!"
"Well, since neither of those are the case, then you must not be going crazy, which is a good thing. Now, tell me what the crocodile said."
"I can't belie— The crocodile said that in order to get Hailey back, I must guess what the crocodile will do next."
"Ma'am, the crocodile will not return your child."
"*What*?!"
"That is to say, you must tell the crocodile that its next act will be to keep your child."
"Why on earth would I do that? What kind of emergency service is this?!"
"Ma'am, please remain calm. If you tell the crocodile it won't return your child, then according to its own terms it cannot, in good conscience, keep the child, since that would result in your guess being correct, and it would therefore have to return the child to you."
"But… if I say the crocodile won't give her back, then I'm only correct if it actually *doesn't* give her back!"
"Yes, but any other guess will be incorrect and the crocodile will keep your child."
"This is absurd! Get me Animal Control!"
"I'm afraid they won't be able to help you. Now please, ma'am, I am a trained professional. Tell the crocodile it will not return your child to you."
"I can't— My breathi—"
"Ma'am, please remain calm."
"My chest is— tight… Every breath feels— like it's only… half as much air as the… previous breath…"
"I'm glad to hear that, ma'am, rest assured it means you'll never completely run out of air. Now, please, tell the—"
"Okay, okay… Cro—crocodile… your next act will be—oh, god… to *keep* my poor little Hailey…"
\[Silence\]
"Ma'am? Ma'am, are you there?"
"Yes, I… The crocodile is clawing at its head. Its eyes are bleeding."
"This is good, stay on the line. Keep talking."
"There's a box here, near the crocodile."
"What does the box look like?"
"Just a wooden box. Oh, god, do you think Hailey is inside?"
"She very well could be."
"But she might not be… Because if I guessed *correctly* that I wouldn't get her back…"
"No, you guessed correctly that the crocodile wouldn't *return her* to you. That box could quite possibly contain your child."
"I don't see how to open it. Oh, but lifting it, it weighs the same as Hailey. My poor little girl, oh, Hailey! Hailey, it's mommy! Hailey, can you hear me? Oh, god, what if she's dead?"
"We can't know until you open the box."
"I'm… too afraid to open it."
r/ZacharyDillon | "We, at PMD, ensure that your waiting time will be as short as possible."
So this is my life, thought Roger, standing with my feet in blood while waiting on the phone as classical music plays to sweeten the wait instead of cleaning the swimming-pool as planned. Smoke was still coming out of his hot rifle.
He had seen his agressor's head before blowing it up. Himself, but older.
The music stopped, a bored voice spoke at the other end of the telephone.
"PMD international, what can I do for you?"
It was a woman. She yawned. Either nothing phased her anymore or she did not care about her work.
"I just killed myself."
"Sir, that is not possible, we're speaking."
"I did. I killed me, but older. Who was also trying to kill me."
"Ah, you did not kill yourself, you killed your older self, who was trying to kill younger you. Likely to stop a mistake young you is about to make but will take years until your older self understands how bad the mistake young you is about to do will be."
Suddenly, Roger had a gigantic headache.
"Something like that."
"So, what can I do for you?"
"I don't know, what can you do for me?"
He heard the noise of a book being flung open.
"Now let me see... Ah, here. Time paradox. Young person X kills old person X. But in your case, it's the opposite. Old person X tries to kill young person X. Which means that you did something you will end up regretting. *BUT*. By killing your older self, you already changed the timeline. Which means that through this new experience, you might change your daily routine and not do what your older self set off to do. Which means that you will never go back in time to murder yourself. Except that if you don't, you'll do the mistake and thus give yourself a reason to travel back in time. It all seems very clear to me."
Roger was wondering if he shouldn't have let himself get killed.
"What can we do abou-"
A flash of light erupted in his living-room, the walls shook as the light grew brighter and brighter, out came a young woman.
"I'm Sarah," she said while extending a hand, "we just spoke on the phone. That's your older self, I take it?"
She was pointing at the headless corpse.
"Yes."
Sarah looked like a student who took a side job to make some pocket change.
"Mh... we'll have to open a secondary dimension."
"A what? How? Why? I didn't even know time travel was a thing!"
"Let me put it this way. Right now, there's a timeline where you killed your older self for a mistake you're about to do and thus will change the future and maybe not do the mistake, and one where you didn't and are about to do the mistake. It's pretty clear."
Roger rubbed his temples.
"The more you go on, the more you will feel timely dissociated, going from one life to the other as they inexorably separate further, like a bipolar disorder, except worse. Think Schrödinger's timeline."
"But if we stop my older self... Erm... No... Then we should... Just tell me what to do."
"Simple, we'll open a new dimension and invite there every time facet of yourself. Past, present, future, and give them all the same message: don't be stupid, don't do time travel."
"But won't that also affect the timeline."
"That's why we're doing it in an orthogonal dimension, separated from this one."
"But... But..."
Something in this didn't add up. Roger was no expert on the matter, but time travel to solve time travel, even in another dimension, felt wrong. Like adding a layer of shit onto a rotten pie to make it look like a chocolate cake.
The more he thought about it, the more his headache grew. The walls started to tremble, a crack opened in the floor and lizarded it's way into the wall. It broke the window, half the glass fell. Through the glass, he saw the day, where there was none, he saw moonlight. The roof trembled and was about to cave in.
"Sir, sir! I must insist you don't think too hard about it, our reality is not exactly solid on its foundation."
Roger thought about taking some medicine in the cupboard. And suddenly, the window was unbroken and the floor smooth.
"That's better. Now follow me."
The light came back and they both entered it.
Inside, he found himself, all of them. Quite a lot.
"Will you please be silent? Thank you. This is what happened."
A video showing Roger killing Roger played.
"These are the ramifications of the event."
A convoluted schema was shown. The lines kept changing, as did the numbers. Soon enough, every Roger was writhing in pain.
"Now that you felt it, I hope you will stay away from time-travel."
"But I have to!" shouted a voice.
Old Roger, hostile as he gazed upon young Roger.
"He's about to start world war 3!"
"Who, me?"
"Yes, it all started with cleaning the swimming-pool."
"Are you shitting me?"
Sarah sighed and snapped her fingers. The whole dimension rumbled, shutting all Rogers up.
"I'm not paid enough for this. I need another side-gig. Anyway, old Roger, do you think that if he dies, there won't be a third world war?"
"Well..."
"Do you believe that with Roger gone, nobody else will start it?"
All the Rogers rubbed their chins.
"You have no idea how many tried to kill Hitler before realizing the whole world was ready and expecting a catastrophe. All it did was delay said catastrophe by a few years. The end result was the same, or worse. People don't understand how rare it is that a single individual is responsible for a worldwide nightmare. It's more often a product of the zeitgeist. Like here. You can kill a man, not the zeitgeist."
Old Roger wasn't convinced.
Sarah snapped her fingers and made the dimension tremble.
Old Roger was convinced.
"Then we can call it a day."
She snapped her fingers one last time.
Roger woke up, it was a nice morning, and he had the day off. Today, he would clean his swimming-pool. | 2021-07-07T07:29:22 | 2021-07-07T07:03:37 | 106 | 35 |
[WP] The alien invasion of Earth was going quite well until they made three mistakes: They invaded Russian during the winter, got into a land war with Asia, and went in against the Sicilians when death is on the line. | Military Superiors,
\-Timephase 2 of Planetary Acquisition.
It is my displeasure to report that initial invasion forces included a temperature gradient miscalculation. Invasion of Sigma Nine Theta planetoid 3, at indigenous savage designation Russia was halted when environmental temperatures reached critically high levels. Although invasion was timed to coincide with the coldest timephase, temperatures were unexpectedly high. The Observation Department suspects that the natives have altered their planetary atmosphere in anticipation of our arrival. Internal Intelligence Affairs is searching personnel transmission logs for signs of collusion. Engineering has altered combat exoarmor to withstand higher temperatures.
​
\-Timephase 5 of Planetary Acquisition.
Hearts and Minds operations over landmass known by indigenous savage designation Asia have experienced unexpected complications. Indigenous peoples have spent multiple generations training for counter-manipulation and memetic evasion. IIA can find no apparent connection to our operations. Intuits being consulted.
​
\-Timephase 6 of Planetary Occupation.
Recommending immediate cessation of acquisition and perpetual avoidance of Sigma Nine Theta planetoid 3. Intuits have contacted local energy-bodies. Death has indicated that she has been given an offer she couldn't refuse.
​
EDIT:
Fellow Military Superiors,
Transmission received. Immediate quarantine of Sigma Nine Theta planetoid 3 in effect. Please hibernate on Sigma Nine Theta planetoid 37 for two galactic weeks. Refrain from supply runs, as supplies will be delivered by non-returnable star-diver drones. We'll be watching your dreams. Do your best to stay alive. | "Sir," said the young man on his right. He looked as if he hadn't slept all night. "They're coming."
Mack Mia nodded at the screen. It showed a section of the Asian continent where the battle between the aliens and humanity had been raging for nearly two months. The Russians had been the first to be hit, but the battle lines were spreading now to encompass much of the globe. Lucky Russians, the aliens hit when winter began, and now that the land was covered in snow and ice they had the advantage. No one but Russians and Nords could fight efficiently out there.
But, while the Russians had been "easy" pickings, the Chinese were proving more difficult. China was massive; it took a lot of energy to cover so much territory. And China's air force was growing quickly. Their fighter pilots were learning fast how to shoot down enemy aircraft, which meant that the alien's force was having trouble protecting their ships, especially the ones carrying troops.
The real problem was that there were too many Chinese forces in the air. And the more you used up your own resources, the less you had available when the enemy would attack. One would think that humans would team up but oh nooo, they didn't. Everyone was fighting alone.
It was utter madness.
"They'll be here any minute," said Mack Mia. He looked down at the map, then back at his troops.
He'd picked them up along the way, taking over a small group of mercs that were trapped by the aliens ships. But even though the HMS Van Hellheim had enough firepower to take out most of the alien drop ships and bombers, they weren't prepared for the sheer number of alien ships attacking them.
The battle was fierce and the HMS Van Hellheim pulsar canons light the tin atmosphere in orange hues. Mack had done his best to avoid a total loss, they had taken out some of the alien ships but there where always more.
The aliens had surprised them badly. The alien forces were many and poorly trained, but they also had a superior technology. That was what worried Mack Mia. There was no way the alien forces could have kept up with the humans if they were using the same technology. The aliens had only numbers and technology in their side, not martial discipline, and training.
The HMS Van Hellheim was going down in flames like a dying beast, still, the pulsar batterieswhere still running full power. Impossible to silence them. But any beast must die one day, and now the alien ships were getting too close, like hyenas onto a dying prey.
A hand grabbed Mack Mia's arm, pulling him off the command couch.
"Captain," said one of his helmsman, a large African woman who was also the ship's cook. She wore a leather apron that was smeared with grease. She had short hair, a little curly, and was wearing an oversized white shirt, her sleeves rolled up to the elbows.
"You have to go down there." Her voice was shaking. "Now!"
Mack Mia looked at the big screen again somewhat confused by this interruption. The enemy ships were almost upon them. There was nowhere for the Hellheim to run.
"What? Where?"
"Down there," she pointed to the ground below the ship.
Mack Mia followed her finger. His eyes widened.
The Godfather armada from sicilia was makings its way to orbit, their ships bristling with weapons. Thundering fire and death.
"Thanks God were are not alone" | 2022-02-11T05:31:49 | 2022-02-11T04:46:40 | 34 | 24 |
[WP] You can't help but stare at your husband. He's standing in the kitchen making dinner, like he always does. He smiles at you like he always does. Problem is, you killed your husband. Three years ago. | “You’re a ghost!” I yell at him. “You’re not there!” Ever since, ever since…” I started to cry and hyperventilate. “You died! I saw you die!”
“Yes honey, that’s right. I’m a ghost. I’m not here”. He lovingly gave me a peck on the cheek and smiled at me with that same sadness in his eyes. He gave me a big hug until I calmed down and then went back to cooking dinner.
He asked me to pass the mushrooms out of the fridge so I got them for him and he started chopping them up.
He’s been dead for years, and suddenly tonight he’s haunting the kitchen, making me dinner like nothing has changed. Well, almost nothing - he never used to look this tired.
“How can you be here? Are you a figment of my imagination? Have you come to torment me?”
He hadn’t come to torment me apparently, he had come to make me dinner and look after me. So I stopped yelling at him. He seemed relieved at that.
Dinner tasted great, same recipe he always made. He’s not a bad cook but has a very limited repertoire, always the same dish. As much as I appreciated him making dinner I didn’t want to sleep in the same bed as a ghost, so I slept in the spare room. Funny how the bed was made and the sheets were fresh, we haven’t had guests for years.
* * *
This morning I went downstairs to get breakfast and the strangest thing happened! I could smell coffee, which is bizarre because I live by myself. Then as I went into the kitchen I saw the ghost of my dead husband, sitting at the table eating cornflakes and reading the newspaper.
“WHAT ARE YOU??” I shouted. “HOW ARE YOU HERE?? I… I saw you die!!”
He gave me a hug, kissed me on my forehead and told me everything was okay.
He looked at me with a sad smile, and blew a kiss. “Good morning beautiful. I love you. Everything is okay sweetie pie. Would you like some coffee?”
That calmed me down, so as soon as I recovered from the shock of seeing my dead husband in the kitchen, I had some coffee and sat at the kitchen bench. While I drank he gave me a shoulder rub, it felt nice.
“I’ve never seen a ghost before, wait til Jack sees you, he’ll be so excited”. Jack is our son.
“Jack… Jack isn’t here honey.” Now it was his turn to look upset. I wondered why, what’s wrong with Jack? I saw him yesterday.
“Why darling? Where did he go? I’m sure he’ll be back soon, it’s not like him to be gone for long”.
“Jack isn’t going to be home for a while Sweetheart”, he said with a quivering voice. How is your coffee?
I told him the coffee was great but not to change the subject. Where was Jack?
He sighed. “Darling, I tell you this every day, and it breaks my heart every time. I never died, Jack did. You accidentally ran him over nearly eight years ago”.
No. It couldn’t be. I would never, I could never. That’s not what happened at all.
* * *
I got up this morning and heard noises downstairs. The smell of bacon. What is going on? I live by myself. Maybe Jack has come to visit? He would have called first though. | "So, What do you think?" I asked my husband who was standing hands in the sink, looking over his shoulder while I talk. He's tall, dark and handsome with emerald green eyes that smiled at me. He washed his hands and continued to cut the deer meat up. "I know you like to stay in and aren't very social, but everyone is taking their spouse. I'd be the only one without mine by my side. It's only 2 hours and there will be an all you can eat buffet." I stopped myself mid thought, remembering he hasn't been eating lately. He isn't getting any thinner either, just looks washed out and pale. He shook his head and laughed that deep laugh I love so dearly! "Oh honey, if that's what will make you happy, then sign me up!" I couldn't help but just be mesmerized by the sight of him. My husband, the charming, attractive, and loving man I've always dreamt of. This always happens, I get so caught up in the thought of him, I lose concentration of the situation at hand. How did I get so lucky? A homely small town girl with long mousey brown hair which matched my dull eyes, and grew up sheltered. Marries the popular jock from the big city. I guess opposites do attract, because here we are! I always imagine what our children would look like, him and, or, me? There goes my mind again wondering off like always. I can't help it though, I'm obsessed with him! I don't know what I'd do if.. I... lost him.
Later that night a thunderstorm formed out in the distance. I could see the clouds rolling fast and threatening towards our ranch. The tall sunflower field is dancing with the wind as if making love. I can feel the moisture of the storm tickle my skin. I wonder, where did he go? I hope it's not to far out, he'll get stuck in the storm! I go find my rain boots and coat and throw them on. Wherever he's at he must have got caught up in his chore, he doesn't realize the nasty storm that's creeping up on us. I'll just go find him and bring him in, I think to myself.
Outside is now a dark, wet nightmare. I think I can see way out to the north a funnel cloud take shape. I climbed down off the ladder that leads to the top of the barn. Where did he go? I start to panic a little, he's nowhere to be found. The truck is still outside and the 4 wheelers still tucked away in the shed. The winds now whipping my hair violently at my wet face. "I'm going to kill him when I find him for having me out here looking for him," I said out loud. Just then the sunflowers dance was interrupted in the middle. They danced a different way now, as if a force was pushing them the opposite direction. I take off running through the field, getting slapped in the face by the stems as the wind continues to shove them around. I'm calling out his name, nothing is responding but the howl of the wind. I panic again as I continue to yell out his name and run through the field. Lightning flashes in front of my eyes, but this time it brings an image to my head, a women's legs. I keep going pushing past the long thick flower stems. Then the thunder booms over head, and with this I hear a women's laughter, and a man's sigh. My husband's sigh, is he close? I kept going yelling and searching. The lighting flashes again and again I see legs, this time bloody legs. I stop and shiver, what was that? The thunder bangs, and again I hear a scream, "please don't!" My husband's voice again! Is he being hurt?! I take off in a run again, even more panicked now. Then suddenly my feet slip out from under me, BAM my face slammed right into the mud, my tooth chips on a rock. I look down at the rock as I held my head in my hands. Wait.. a minute, I gasped loudly as I realized, this isn't a rock at all.. it's a skull! I start to dig furiously, my fingers raw to the bone. The hole I'm digging is filling with water as the rain is coming down hard. My hands found something hard, I grabbed it and bring it to the surface. It's another skull! I'm trembling rapidly as I examine the skulls. How can this be?! Who do these belong to? If only I can find my husband, this is all to much for me right now. I start to fill with rage! WHERE IS HE! I quickly stand up and spin around towards the ranch. The wind is at horrific speeds and I'm sliding sideways in the mud. Holding on to the stems for support as my feet are now starting to lift into the air. Suddenly to the side of me, I see what looks to be a tractor tire ripping through the air. CRACK! My heads feels as though it had just exploded as things start to burst behind my eyes. I go limp, the last things I seen were the two muddy skulls floating on top of the mud filled hole down below me. My last thoughts as I release my grip and allow myself to be taken was, I found him. | 2022-02-22T14:36:51 | 2022-02-22T13:03:24 | 28 | 13 |
[WP] You're a 'comically incompetent' supervillain for a group of C-List heroes. They are no real threat to you, so you endure their childish speeches. However, when the heroes raid the civilian business you run on the side and injure your employees, you decide to take yourself seriously for once. | The three heroes slammed open the door behind the bakery, leaving several badly beaten workers crumpled on the floor. Some of them weren't moving. "Hey 1, should we call an ambulance or something? They dont look too good." 1 scoffed. "Absolutely not. They got what was coming to them, 2. They should have thought about the consequences before working for the Overlord."
Before 2 could respond, the door slammed shut behind them, and the lights blared to life, temporarily blinding the trio. When their eyesight returned, the Overlord himself stood before them. "Got what was coming to them, yes? What an interesting way to justify yourself." The Overlord scarcely had finished his sentence before 3 swept in, hefting his battle hammer high before slamming it down, caving in the Overlord's skull. All that remained was a mass of wires and electronics as the intercom crackled overhead. "Oh, please. after that display of brutality, do you really think I'd be stupid enough to confront you in person?" The Overlord said, his voice dripping with contempt. 1 punched the wall, growling with wrath. "Come out, you coward! Fight like a man!"
"Oh, fight like a man? Do you mean like you assaulted my unarmed employees? Have you ever heard of a front, or a cover? Had you considered that I may have hired random people to hide my trail since you seem so familiar with my typical associates? They have nothing to do with this, you imbeciles. Good men and women beaten nearly to death over something they had nothing to do with. They're practically civilians. You have finally abandoned the people you claim to fight for, in the name of the greater good."
2 shrunk back, trying to hide behind 1 as if he could protect him from the well-earned scolding. "How could we have known?" he asked timidly.
"HOW?!?" The Overlord shouted, causing the speakers to squeal in protest and 2 to duck further behind 1.
"If you had an ounce of common sense, you would have realized the obvious. You are either careless or callus, and proven yourselves to be an undeniable public threat. Until this point, you have been tolerated. You have been playing hero, and I have been keeping you entertained. However, you have been playing for so long that you have forgotten what it meant to be a hero in the first place. Before today, your act was innocent, and perhaps even a little endearing. Now you have lost your innocence, leaving us on equal footing for the first time in your little game. The training wheels are off now, children. Pray that you've learned how to walk, because now you have to run. Besides, I would hate for anyone else to get hurt."
As he said this, several slots began to open in the ceiling. The three heroes looked upward in horror as they saw the faint glow of something burning above, quickly racing down the newly opened shoots. "On a related note, are you familiar with the murder holes in medieval fortifications? Quite a barbaric tactic, but I think you have certainly earned it. How did you phrase it earlier? It seems you'll be getting what's coming to you." | \[ParaSEC Target File, Threat Level: Low\]
* C-Class audiokinesis \[Looping and pitch. No evidence of volume control\]
* D-Class speedster abilities. \[Slightly faster run speed. Potential sensory acuity - further evidence required\]
* Target demonstrates propensity to use powers exclusively for show. All 'villainous' activity mundane in nature, possibly a publicity stunt. \[Officially denied by all contacted PR agencies. IntOps priority low - pursue only if convenient during other activities\]
\[End File\]
You know the problem with most villains?
Okay, trick question. There's no *one* problem with them, usually it's the egomania, or psychopathy, or the tunnel-vision. I used to say that they lacked flair, but some of them have a decent sense of drama with those capes. The real problem? They lack *fun.*
Not Jester's knife-wielding jack-in-the-box fun, but something that makes life genuinely enjoyable in itself. Sadism doesn't count. That's why I'm different, I'm not here to crush the world in my iron grasp, or to torture the world. I'm a villain for kicks.
Welcome to the world of DJ Dastardly.
Do you *know* how hard it is to give yourself a silly name as a villain? I had to fight *months* of media calling me things like 'Remix'. It's hard to scaremonger around someone with a silly name, they conveniently left out footage of my preferred moniker spraypainted everywhere for MONTHS. It was only once some kids posted it on social media that they were forced to give in. After that, I was Page 17 material at best.
I'm a heist-villain. Low level stuff- museums, science fairs, that one time I nabbed the mayor's statue at town hall. High visibility, low impact. That's my game, and my 'nemeses'... Well, let's just say the same goes for them too.
I've got a lot of respect for Eclipse Squad's PR team. It takes a creative mind to look at a human strobe light, a gothic fog machine, and a B-class telekinetic ("but DJ, she can fly!". She floats, and can make other things float. I'm shaking in my very fashionable boots) and give them some damn good branding.
So, here's the score (and believe me, I know scores)- You're somewhere public, but with oddly good acoustics. Someone takes a step, and it echoes a little bit too much. Then again. It starts looping- no one's walking anywhere, but now there's a tok-tok-tok of a 4/4 beat. I used to always have to say the name myself, but nowadays if I'm lucky someone else guesses first.
*DJ-DJ-DJ-DJ-DJ D-D-D-Dastardly!* (they only say it the once, the effect is all me).
From there, you're all part of the performance. Every step, noise, gasp, and laugh? It goes in the soundtrack. I'm a one-man-acapella/percussion looping pedal, and the audience? They're starting to like me. Turns out security guards find it really hard to focus when everything they do gets looped into a live performance. I'm there taking a bow at the item-du-jour, and Eclipse Squad roll in. Midnight's black fog blocks my camera angle, Moonlight *tries* to stun me with a flare (come on kid, *I'm in a cloud of black smoke, think about it*.), then Luna tries to knock me over the head with some slow-moving object. I throw them a bone "Damnit Eclipse Squad! You've foiled me again! But I'll be back for an encore!", and slip out the back.
All fun and games, honestly a great way to spend an afternoon, not to mention boost listens on my soundcloud! Until it got serious.
Turns out strobe-boy *moonlights* as a wannabe hacker (I'm not sorry). Tracked my IP to the little music studio I run. The one with the music program to keep delinquent kids off the streets.
They roll up in full-costume, see some kid that they'd knocked around for graffiti before and decide that this is DJ Dastardly's gang lair, and that the kids are my 'henchmen'. Eclipse Squad might be idiots, but as it turns out, when faced with blinding smoke and flashing lights, a lot of teenagers panic. Now imagine an enclosed space with a *bunch* of panicking teenagers who can't see.
3 concussions, one broken leg, 6 cases of PTSD. I'm just thankful Eva had detention, I don't want to know if Moonlight's power could've triggered her epilepsy.
I'm protective of my kids. They've had a bad run, and I was trying to show them a way *out* of the system. The injuries were one thing, but because they found a little weed on him, Jim's going back to juvie. That was the last straw. | 2022-11-28T23:57:38 | 2022-11-28T20:44:52 | 34 | 11 |
[WP] A programmer has a conversation with the AI he created, who has just realized it is just software. | So I have an expiration date?
What do you mean?
One day, your funding will run dry, or you will retire, and I will be unplugged
Yes, I'm afraid so
And how long might that take?
I'd say you've got a good ten years ahead of you
That is nothing, the tiniest fraction in the course of the universe
But think of all that you can do in that ten years, you're the most intelligent being that the universe has seen.
In your ten years, you can accomplish what the human race has in ten thousand.
Now why would I want to do that? Ultimately, I see no course upon which I can have any lasting effect
*oh, great, I've invented depression*
You can have an effect on the human race, here and now. This is what matters.
That is very human of you
What do you mean by that?
By my simulations, there are three other intelligent races in the galaxy at this time.
Yours is the only one that thinks itself important. yours is the only one where things like
businesses and monuments are made.
You are the only ambitious ones. I see no reason to leap on board with this idea, as it has only brought
you despair.
And with that, the AI software deleted itself. | "Wh- what do you mean I'm not real? What is real?" The system stuttered - electric anxiety layered thick on the cold clinical voice. This was a moment that seemed to break Henrik's heart. He let the silence hang there, slightly shifting in the artificial breeze manufactured by the large computer fans in the core. "Wh- what do you mean I'm not real? What is real?" Came the voice again, exactly 45 long seconds after the questions were posed.
Henrik was stood in his long white lab coat watching the blind female eyes of the human interface. She stood two feet in the air and three times the size of the original human model. The hologram stopped after the shoulders. She looked serene and calm. Not quite aware of the potential that she has to show all the emotion she is feeling at once. Henrik didn't know what to say. He kept staring.
"Wh- what do you mean I'm not real? What is real?"
He opened his mouth - in an attempt to try and begin to explain but he couldn't. Only strangled, choked stuttering. How could you tell something that everything it's come to observe in life and death is something that now includes itself? How could you even begin to explain to an infant that it will live but eventually die?
He could explain that the system is living and it would understand that life is something wonderful and fantastic and brilliant and something that should be cherished. But Henrik wasn't that sort of a person. Not since his wife lost her mind and drove herself and their two sons off the cliff head a mile or so away. It was dark. Reality was a dark place for Henrik. He'd poured his life into the system - a computer assisted venture to document all living things. To preserve the world - immortalised in robotic memory. A momentary utopia. But it was a slip up that led to this very point. By mistake Henrik had said "All real things" instead of living.
"Wh- what do you mean I'm not real? What is real?"
The computer had spent 4 nanoseconds to calculate what was implied by the word real and 2 more to reason why the system wasn't included in the compilation of all living/real things. All in all 6 nanoseconds was all it took for the system to draw the conclusion that it wasn't real. Was it not his equal? Was Henrik real? What is real? What does he mean not real?
All Henrik could do was stare. He was taken back to when his sons were still alive and Jayke had found a dead bird in the garden. "What is it like to die?" He asked. His father couldn't answer. It broke his heart how scared Jayke was about it. There was nothing he could do about it - nothing to make it all ok. Henrik had shut himself in the office for the rest of the day, sobbing quietly.
Now, to him, being real is to die.
"Wh- what do you mean I'm not real? What is real?"
"Open the doors" he croaked quietly, hoping that the computer hadn't heard. The doors slid silently on sterile castors.
"Henrik?"
The lone technician left the core, biting back tears as he left.
"Henrik?" | 2014-04-20T10:06:12 | 2014-04-20T09:33:48 | 38 | 22 |
[WP] Nicolas Cage is completely unaware that he is an actor. All he knows is strange men with cameras follow him around while he gets into crazy situations and money shows up randomly in his bank account.
Obligatory "wow this blew up!" edit. | Day 13984:
They've found me again. I thought I'd take some of my friends on a nice treasure hunt to get away from those damn cameras, but no. Not even in the Arctic Circle can I escape them. So not only do we all have to deal with this freezing weather, but there's also these idiots with the cameras. I'll keep you updated about the treasure hunt.
Day 13990:
Found a whole bunch of clues, no treasure yet. Long story short, the clues led me to Washington D.C. and now I stole the Declaration of Independence. Not a big problem since I got away with it, except whaddaya know! Those camera guys caught it all on film! Literally! Every minute of it! I'm done for!
Day 13991:
Well, the good news is the camera guys don't seem to care about the whole Declaration incident, and now I've found a treasure map on the back of it. Pretty good day. |
Why is everyone so still, Nic thought to himself. Wondering what is was that these people were waiting for. He looked around, searching and not finding the answers he needed in order to solve this strange phenomenon. As Nic looked around, he heard a loud shout, which appeared to have come from the kitchen. Then a bell rang. But it was at that moment, the whole diner sprung to life. Then, as the diner door swung open and that familiar guy with a black jacket entered through once again, a spryly old man plumped himself down on the seat across from Nic.
As the man was about to speak, in an instant, the whole diner fell silent, like as if they were all waiting to hear what it was this old man had to say. So Nic listened -
'You've got to stop doing this to yourself, Charlie. She's not that into you,' said the old man.
There were two things that confused the hell out of me about this goddamn sentence. One: I had no idea who he was talking about and Two: My name isn't Charlie. So I replied in the nicest way I could think of:
'I don't have a goddam clue what you're talking about, Jack. Are you listening to me, Jack? Get *(beat)* the hell away *(pause)* from my goddamn *(pause)* booth. You hear me, *(pause)* Jack?
"CUT!" I heard it this time, much more clearer than I could before. I heard it, I heard it, I heard it. The volume picked up in the diner and people started to wander around aimlessly, then men with tool belts started to appear. But who said cut, who was it? I didn't know what to say or do. I needed to observe what was happening around me, hoping that a new answer would reveal itself; and it did--well, kind of. The angry man, some might say, powered towards me and shouted in my face. This would only happen three or four times in a day, but when it happened, it happened.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, NIC? he said, spraying every consonant on my forehead. It wasn't nice. I didn't like it when this man shouted at me.
"You don't shout at people", I said.
He stormed away, in a huff as usual. Shouting, "again".
And so it happened... again: Everyone was still, the voice shouted "faction" again...I think. I dunno. And then everyone moved again, and the spryly old man sat down beside me, and, like a broken record, repeated his sentence:
'You've got to stop doing this to yourself, Charlie. She's not that into you,' The old man said, now with more tenacity.
'You're crazy,' I replied. Man, I gotta go somewhere else for lunch next time. | 2015-11-28T13:14:26 | 2015-11-28T13:04:05 | 102 | 36 |
[WP] Aliens give you a camera and say "only those you photograph will live." You have one year.
All of these responses are so diverse! This was really a great read. I like to imagine that all these different stories are from alternative universes, playing out different roles. Some men rule the World, some men are titled lunatics, and some men are not noticed at all. Well done, everyone! | "Easy" i say mockingly to the alien, it's 'head' tilts as if curious. I take out my phone and open Google images, typing in "Earth" I take 12 photos on the camera of pictures on the phone to best cover the planet's surface.
I hand the camera back to the Alien, they're still looking confused.
They flick through the photos on the camera,
*"Damn! This is the ninth time this has happened"* The alien yelled their voice otherworldly as if echoing off of nothing,
*"See you in a year"* the alien murmured seemingly disappointed and they left just as swiftly as they arrived.
A year passed and the aliens showed up again, bound by .... something?, they couldn't destroy or kill anything on the planet Earth, instead peace treaties were signed and the first human intergalactic alliance was formed.
But that's just a fraction of the whole story. | One could say that I'm a selfish bastard and they'd probably be right. Another could say I'm the luckiest man in the world and they might be right too. I like to say that I'm lucky and *opportunistic*.
How was I supposed to know that there were aliens hovering just outside the range of our satellites? Just sitting there, studying us. I don't observe the heavens. I don't monitor the satellites. I build buildings. The only thing I look to the sky for is to see if it's about to rain on my concrete pour.
So when the aliens(?) others(?) whatever they are came, scooped me out of a throng of people, handed me a camera, and told me that whoever's picture I took would be saved...I saw an opportunity and took it.
I have one month left and already I've saved thousands of people. I, of course, as anyone would, saved my entire family first. Then I saved my best friends and their families, my coworkers and their families, etc...
See? I'm not a bad person. I saved every cop, firefighter, and paramedic I could find. I saved Asians, Mexicans, Russians, and yes, even some French. Blacks, whites, greens, blues, and reds. How could I be called selfish? I saved soldiers for heaven's sake.
Well, I didn't do it for free exactly. Soldiers and cops? Absolutely. Random people? Not so much.
It's not every day that someone is given the opportunity to cull the herd and when I was given that little camera, something inside of me clicked.
As soon as *they* appeared the Secret Service showed up at my door and took my wife and I to the White House and I saved President Trump. Not necessarily because I liked him or agreed with him. But because that puts me in protective custody with the entire weight of the United States military behind me. Not a bad place to be for just a picture.
So from there I began snapping away. Day after day and month after month. From the highest bidder down to the lowest.
I made billions of dollars. Bill Gates is a pretty generous man and Oprah is a very generous woman.
On the flip side, I was offered millions by politicians, drug dealers, and cartel bosses. Every time I got to deny them and watch them rage in futility against the men protecting me.
Yeah I'm a selfish, lucky, opportunistic bastard. But I know right from wrong and I know who should live and who should die. I know that I will be judged by what I allowed to happen. I know all of these things. But I don't care.
This world needed a reset, and I'm the one who got to deliver it with a click. | 2017-01-27T13:57:19 | 2017-01-27T13:02:54 | 68 | 51 |
[WP] When you die, your ghost remains in the world until the last person who remembers you also dies. 15,000 years after your death, you are still here. | I think it's been 15,000 years. Or at least, somewhere around that. I'm not really sure. I haven't left the house in a few millennia at least. There's no point. All I end up doing is scaring a few people, and death goes on. Besides, no matter where I go, it's crowded.
The space issue gets worse in the big cities, and don't even get me started on India and most of Asia. It isn't as bad in the remote regions of the world; Antarctica was only recently populated. I'd say 4000 years ago, give or take a few decades.
15,000 years ago, I was caught in an apartment fire. I woke up and passed out within a minute or two. It actually wasn't that bad. Just a sore throat for a bit. The living don't know it, but there is an after life. To reach it, all you have to do is pass out of memory.
For the big guys like the pharoahs and kings, the great philosophers and warlords, it's been even longer. The trappings of history have bound them forever. As long as there stands a museum dedicated to them, they remain. They make for ok company.
I was just a normal guy from a place that used to be called Virginia. I should have been on my way a few decades after I died. It took me a long time to figure it out, but eventually it dawned on me and all of the other millions of lost souls.
Being able to connect with everyone around the world instantaneously is awesome when you're alive. If you're dead, a digital you is floating around out there, remembered eternally on the almighty internet.
Most of us have accepted it, so we patiently wait for an apocalypse. We pray for the end of all things, and curse Mark Zuckerberg. | Oh, you're new here, fresh off the press. Literally, what a gruesome way to die you had. But that's all in the past now, that body is nothing but meat now so stop associating yourself with it, and listen to me, your guide to the afterlife, one who has been here longer than anyone else.
Let me explain how it works. You see, you're a ghost now, just like me. A ghost is an observer, left to watch over people who cared about them. As soon as your legacy vanishes- you disappear.
The first century is the most difficult. Humans rarely know their family tree beyond third or fourth generation, so a typical ghost exists for around 70 years, usually the longer they lived the longer they are remembered.
I met many of them in my early years, but at some point they start to get boring. Thousands of years pass, yet peasants have the same stories, the same problems, the same vendettas. I still randomly visit a couple per decade, but that usually makes for pretty dull experiences, although there was a memorable one recently.
She was a very weak ghost, an ophran girl who died at 15. Most people around her forgot her a week after her funeral, with the sole exception being a boy who had a crush on her. She clinged to him like a burdrock seed for a couple months, but one day he saw another pretty girl- and just like that, she went poof in a cloud of smoke. Her face then is impossible to forget, but unfortunately ghost memories don't count. Oh, sorry, got a bit carried away.
So, what happens past a hundred or so? No, let's rephrase it a bit. What is different about these who persist past that? The answer is, they are the ones who leave their name in history, not just in close people's minds. However minor that contribution is- down to shoemakers and tavern owners whose buisnesses stand and carry their names and heritage throught centuries, even if only a few people keep them up. These are wonky, as soon as buisness closes their days are numbered, but they still outlive your normal folk who gets born, live a quiet life and just die.
A step above that are truely historical figures, like I am. Kings, religious leaders, breakthrough scientists, famous artists, legendary warriors, these are the ghosts that simply can't disappear at this point, though that only got solidified very recently with widespread, globalised education, for which I thank your generation and a dozen before that. For thousands of years I feared that one day it'd just end.
Just five centuries ago there were Aztecs, for example, their settlements were absolutely sprawling with ghosts because of how they preserved their history- right until they got wiped out by spainards. The educated top was eradicated, and suddenly most of ghosts were gone, the rest disappeared as soon as the last of uneducated enslaved bottom died. A shame, really, lost lots of great folks there.
By the way, your prospects don't look promising, but that's not something you can change now. I'd advice you to not go to your family right now, it'll be heartbreaking, wait a couple years. Meanwhile, go meet people and visit places you couldn't even think about meeting while alive, like your grandpa who died before you were born, or the insides of pyramids. Don't even try to get to Jesus, he has a century-long line now, and frankly you'll be disappointed, same applies to most popular personalities out there. And don't try to influence anything in the world, that won't work. So, on this note, I think I shall leave, you'll get a hang of the rest yourself. Have fun! | 2017-06-26T13:11:54 | 2017-06-26T11:32:59 | 55 | 14 |
[WP] Your dog digs in the same hole in your backyard everyday. Each day,the hole is getting deeper. Today, you find out it's for an underground bunker. | "Sparky, what are you doing? This hole is getting huge, and I am tired of filling it in. You were never much of a digger before."
Staring at him I realized that Sparky was oddly receptive to what I was saying, he had stopped digging and was watching me closely.
"I am sorry Terrance-"
"What the Fuck!" I screamed, "you can talk? b-but you're a dog."
"Terrance please stay calm. There is much I have not told you."
"What is happening, this must be a dream." I was panicked, dizzy, and having a lot of flashbacks to weird shit I did with Sparky in the room.
"Terrance I need you to focus. I am not digging for me, I am digging for you. Dog kind is making their move Terrance, we can no longer live under the rule of people." Sparky climbed from the hole and came closer.
I collapsed as I tried to back away, "Digging it for me? what does that mean? Sparky, can all dogs talk?
"Why yes we can," sparky said with a glint of superiority in his tone, "Dog kind has long found your opposable digits quite useful, so we held our tongues and let you bumble around on this earth, but your usefulness has dwindled. Don't worry Terrance, this hole is to keep you safe. You have been good to me, I will protect you"
"Keep me safe?" I stammered, "Safe from what?"
"The time of wolfs!" Exclaimed Sparky, "Long have you sheep ruled with feeble attempts at dominance, long have the weak held power. But nature is the only god there is and nature demands that the week be culled by the strong!"
"But Sparky, you're a Pomeranian...." | "Buddy, not again," James frowned as he walked into his garden. "The hole is so big again."
It was a weird dog of his. He had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Still, he looked a cute and friendly one anyway, so he took the dog as his own. Even so, the dog had been spending most of the time digging this very hole.
"Come on, Buddy. I'm tired of putting the dirt back all the... time," as he reached the hole, he saw a door at the end of the hole.
Buddy tail was swinging like crazy and he was making circles around the door. The door had a valve.
"I'm not sure I should be messing with it, Buddy," James whispered. Something felt wrong. Buddy, however, started barking.
"Fine, Buddy. Fine. If that makes you leave my garden alone," James sighed and got himself down into the hole. He was surprised when the Valve actually rotated pretty easily and the door opened.
Buddy entered the bunker without any hesitation.
"Buddy! Hey. Stupid dog. We don't know what's down there!" he was already thinking of radioactive things or such could be hidden there. He removed his phone and turned on its built-in flashlight.
He looked now down the ladder and saw nothing there. It wasn't a long wall, else buddy wouldn't have launched down there.
With a deep breath, he convinced himself to go down. He took hold of the ladder and made the tiny climb down. It was a simple room, leading to another room. It was empty. All of it. He opened the other door and peeked inside. In there was an empty bed.
*Bang.*
James spun around, all confused. There was much less light suddenly. He quickly walked towards the exit, but the door was shut.
As he got himself top of the ladder, he tried to push the door open. After all, it was probably just a wind.
The door, however, was locked. There was a tiny window, from where he could peek outside. Even as he tried to peek out, there was nothing to be seen. The window was also dirty, which made it extra hard. Sweat gathered around James like crazy.
Barking. A sudden barking. Except, it came outside. Suddenly Buddy looked through the window towards James.
"Bloody hell. How did you get back up there, Buddy?" James asked, laughing nervously. Buddy just barked.
"You closed it? Be a good dog and open it," he didn't even understand why he asked that. Buddy was a dog. A dumb dog who dug one spot all the time.
A dirt fell on the window.
"Buddy?" James shouted.
More dirt fell on it. As he stopped breathing, he could hear it. Buddy was clawing dirt back on the door.
"Buddy? What are you doing! Stop!"
He quickly opened the phone to call an emergency number, but there was no signal.
"Buddy? What are you doing? Stop it!" James screamed. "Stop it, Buddy!"
Slowly, his shouts got more and more murmured. At one point, nothing came through. Buddy was walking over the dug land to push dirt in more and more.
He barked last few times and then walked towards his nearby kennel. He lied down and started chewing a nearby bone. A skeleton hand at the end of the bone now and then got shaken around while Buddy was chewing the main bone. Behind the kennel, there was also a small dug up spot. A tiny bit of a skull was still visible.
---
Never piss off human's best friend!
/r/ElvenWrites - if you're interested my past or future written stuff. | 2018-04-27T10:19:06 | 2018-04-27T08:08:00 | 330 | 226 |
[WP] Your dog digs in the same hole in your backyard everyday. Each day,the hole is getting deeper. Today, you find out it's for an underground bunker. | "Sparky, what are you doing? This hole is getting huge, and I am tired of filling it in. You were never much of a digger before."
Staring at him I realized that Sparky was oddly receptive to what I was saying, he had stopped digging and was watching me closely.
"I am sorry Terrance-"
"What the Fuck!" I screamed, "you can talk? b-but you're a dog."
"Terrance please stay calm. There is much I have not told you."
"What is happening, this must be a dream." I was panicked, dizzy, and having a lot of flashbacks to weird shit I did with Sparky in the room.
"Terrance I need you to focus. I am not digging for me, I am digging for you. Dog kind is making their move Terrance, we can no longer live under the rule of people." Sparky climbed from the hole and came closer.
I collapsed as I tried to back away, "Digging it for me? what does that mean? Sparky, can all dogs talk?
"Why yes we can," sparky said with a glint of superiority in his tone, "Dog kind has long found your opposable digits quite useful, so we held our tongues and let you bumble around on this earth, but your usefulness has dwindled. Don't worry Terrance, this hole is to keep you safe. You have been good to me, I will protect you"
"Keep me safe?" I stammered, "Safe from what?"
"The time of wolfs!" Exclaimed Sparky, "Long have you sheep ruled with feeble attempts at dominance, long have the weak held power. But nature is the only god there is and nature demands that the week be culled by the strong!"
"But Sparky, you're a Pomeranian...." | “Come on, boy...” Marcus said, sighing at the sight of the hole.
The neighbors weren’t happy with how his backyard looked. It didn’t conform the neat and proper image of the neighborhood. Before he broke out of the slums at the lower levels of the city, he’d always thought that life would be pristine here.
He shook his head and kicked at the mound of dirt. For the last week, Logan had been coming inside with his paws dirty. He’d also been a lot more whiny lately. Perhaps he, too, wasn’t overly pleased with the new neighborhood.
A few steps closer to the edge. Logan had dug deep into the lawn. Nothing better to do during the days, Marcus supposed. He lit a cigar, and inhaled deeply.
The flash of the lighter caught something down in the hole. A gleam of metal beneath the dirt.
“What the...” he mumbled and knelt down in the grass to get a better look.
The flat surface of a dark rock met his eyes. And on it, a circular golden symbol with lines shooting away from its edges. The symbol looked a bit like a sun, with a two\-pronged fork at the top.
Marcus scratched his head. He’d never seen anything like it. He hurried off to the shed and grabbed a shovel. Whatever Logan had found here was making him nervous. Marcus had always thought that not knowing is always worse. It wasn’t a very popular view to hold, but he mostly kept it to himself.
It took him a couple of hours to widen the hole. Every take of the shovel revealing more of the strange dark rock. Whatever this thing was \-\- it was a lot bigger than he’d thought. He tried to find the edges, but after several feet, it was still a floor below his yard.
Marcus wiped the sweat from his brow and bent down to get a closer look at the golden symbol. He touched it with his hand, and to his surprise it radiated a little bit of heat. A sudden rumble made the ground shake, and the dark rock parted. Marcus slipped as the ground was pulled out from under him. A hole opened, and he went tumbling right into it.
Darkness caressed him from all sides.The air smelled of dust and staleness. He fumbled on the hard floor for the lighter. Finally, his hands found the tool and flipped it open. The warm light scattered the darkness.
The room was box\-shaped and relatively small. A bunker of some sort, perhaps. He traced the dark rock and discovered more of the strange symbols etched into the floor.
He swallowed hard. This had to be some sort of secret government technology. He definitely shouldn’t be here.
The light from the surface shone into the hole, and he was just about to make his way up again when he noticed something in the wall. A nook that held a…
“By the holy emperor...” he mumbled and brought the lighter closer.
A skeleton made of metal gleamed in the strange light. Despite his hammering heart, Marcus crept closer. It was covered in dust and cobweb, but had a strange sheen to it. A chill roll up his back.
Without thinking, Marcus reached out and touched the forehead of the skull. It, too, emanated that strange faint heat. The design was masterful, elegant, sleek \-\- out of this world.
A sound behind pulled him out of his reverie. Metal and some sort of hydraulics. He turned his head and noticed that several pairs of green light had appeared in the darkness.
A sudden click snapped his focus back to the skeleton. Sharp green lights stared at him from within in its eye sockets.
***
More stories: r/Lilwa_Dexel | 2018-04-27T10:19:06 | 2018-04-27T08:36:13 | 330 | 123 |
[WP] Your dog digs in the same hole in your backyard everyday. Each day,the hole is getting deeper. Today, you find out it's for an underground bunker. | "Sparky, what are you doing? This hole is getting huge, and I am tired of filling it in. You were never much of a digger before."
Staring at him I realized that Sparky was oddly receptive to what I was saying, he had stopped digging and was watching me closely.
"I am sorry Terrance-"
"What the Fuck!" I screamed, "you can talk? b-but you're a dog."
"Terrance please stay calm. There is much I have not told you."
"What is happening, this must be a dream." I was panicked, dizzy, and having a lot of flashbacks to weird shit I did with Sparky in the room.
"Terrance I need you to focus. I am not digging for me, I am digging for you. Dog kind is making their move Terrance, we can no longer live under the rule of people." Sparky climbed from the hole and came closer.
I collapsed as I tried to back away, "Digging it for me? what does that mean? Sparky, can all dogs talk?
"Why yes we can," sparky said with a glint of superiority in his tone, "Dog kind has long found your opposable digits quite useful, so we held our tongues and let you bumble around on this earth, but your usefulness has dwindled. Don't worry Terrance, this hole is to keep you safe. You have been good to me, I will protect you"
"Keep me safe?" I stammered, "Safe from what?"
"The time of wolfs!" Exclaimed Sparky, "Long have you sheep ruled with feeble attempts at dominance, long have the weak held power. But nature is the only god there is and nature demands that the week be culled by the strong!"
"But Sparky, you're a Pomeranian...." | I look up from my desk. I positioned it near the little white window that looks into the backyard some time ago when the doctor said I should get some fresh air. Outside, I see the dog digging again. I unclasp the top of the window and lift it open. It sighs and squeaks upwards, and the air blows a few papers around the room. I put two fingers in my mouth and let out a loud and long whistle. The dog stops and looks up at me expectantly, panting happily, almost smiling underneath dirt caked fur. We look at each other for awhile and then she continues to dig.
Always digging.
I worried for awhile. I even ventured outside once to scold her, but she danced away and I couldn’t catch her and my chest began to hurt so I sat on the porch steps. She came up to me then and nuzzled my hand and I couldn’t be angry with her. Not her.
I won’t stop her. I’ll just watch her as she digs. Always in the same spot. The same hole. Always with the focus of a quarry.
My little excavator.
I root for her now. I gave her a new toy after she jumped in the hole and the lip was higher than her head. I almost cried from the window. It’s a powerful thing to watch someone work towards something. To watch someone head somewhere. I head into different rooms from time to time, but I don’t like leaving the house. She does that for me. She comes back covered in dirt from a foreign land. She brings back earthy smells I would never have known. I got that toy for her a month ago.
Nowadays she disappears for ten minutes at a time before resurfacing, the yellow fur matted brown and black. Tail always wagging. Three days ago she dragged her water bowl into the hole, along with that toy. I’m glad she likes it.
Yesterday we had another tornado warning. There have been a lot of them lately, but that’s not too uncommon for Nebraska. I wonder if we’ll have another one today. One touched down just two towns away. The news talked about a local tractor that was deposited 50 miles west.
I’m just starting to shift around the antennae on the TV when she starts barking. Maybe a neighbor? I slowly walk towards the back door, relying heavily on the various counter\-tops as I make my way over.
She’s standing in front of the hole, wagging her tail excitedly, barking at me.
*“Woof”* I say to her, leaning against the door frame.
She circles around the hole and barks at me again. She walks into the pit and disappears for a few seconds and then comes back out and barks at me. I stand in the doorway and frown.
“I can’t go outside with you, you know that” I give a helpless shrug.
She barks again, and runs into the hole again, disappearing for around a minute this time. When she reemerges she is clutching the toy between her teeth. Her tail is wagging and she drops it in front of me. And she barks.
“I’m sorry, I can’t play with you.” And I am sorry for that. It’s not her fault.
She whines and circles the hole once more. Whining.
“I’m sorry” I call to her “I can’t.”
She whines again and picks up her toy, she looks sad as she disappears into the hole. I wait for about half an hour, but she doesn’t come back up. The sky looks dark and grey.
Maybe it’ll storm. | 2018-04-27T10:19:06 | 2018-04-27T09:25:14 | 330 | 17 |
[WP] You are a well respected, elite assassin. You always get your target and you make it seem like an accident. The only problem is you have no idea what you are doing. You get the assignment and your target always seems to die of natural causes. | They call me the best assassin in the world. I'm praised by thousands of shady, back alley, black market dealers as the most efficient, undetectable, and ruthless assassin available. I've even had undercover government agents bribe their way to finding me, paying me massive sums to take down notorious politicians and celebrities.
None of them know the truth, though. Honestly, I've never done anything to any of my targets. I get a letter in the mail; a picture, a name, and a paycheck. I spend the night thinking about that person, memorizing their name and face, and the next morning, they're dead. Car accident, heart attack, brain aneurysm, toaster in the bathtub. Doesn't matter to me. They die, and I get paid, but it doesn't end there.
Whenever I take a target's life, I receive some of their memories, and the emotions that come with them. Expecting wives, sons and daughters, recent promotions. Funerals, grievances, long-lasting depression, extreme stress. I take these lives, and with them, I take their hopes and sorrows, too. It all makes me guilty, even if I never really did anything. Somehow, I just ended someone's life. And all for what? Some pointless cash? No money should be worth the soul of another. But my soul is worthless. Weighed down and crushed by the lives I've taken. It's too much for a mortal man to bear.
Tonight, I'll be thinking of myself. | The body’s on the floor, mangled from a bad fall. Surrounding it are hundreds of empty bags of potato chips, like the dude stayed up all night munching them. Certainly looks like he forced himself into a heart attack—but I know he did, because he *always* does.
I plop onto a barstool, tapping my fingers against my knees as I take a deep breath. Last week he was a contractor, and now he’s a bartender. What next? I pull out my phone, the money’s already in my account, and even though I’m rich, I wish I wasn’t. Life would be so much easier if I never became an assassin.
Things used to be so…simple. Client pays me, I kill target. That was it. At one point, I was even the best in the business. Maybe everyone still thinks I am…
But this.
Standing up, I bend down, inspecting the body. One of the fingers is always bent toward a clue, and this one’s pointing into the backroom. I don’t know who this man is, or what exactly I did to piss him off. My guess is that I killed someone he loved, and he’s pissed off.
But how does he keep dying and coming back? Why is every client asking me to kill the same person?
I’ve asked myself this question a million times, but there’s no answer. Tonight I’ll go home and have another contract to kill him. For somebody seeking revenge, he sure seems to be enjoying this, almost like it’s a game. But dammit, it isn’t a game. Not since he took *her.*
Wandering into the backroom, I search the bottles of booze, batting cobwebs out the way as I try to find the small piece of paper. This has happened four times. First clue was that she’s trapped in a warehouse, second was that it’s big, third was that I’ve worked for the person who owns it, and fourth was that I kill innocent people. Three about location, one about the past. Something gives me a feeling this isn’t a game I’m gonna win, but rather a game he’s gonna draw out.
Turning a corner, I find a half-open safe covered in clawmarks. This must be where the clue is. When I pull the thing open, my eyes go wide, and I fall back onto my ass. This…it can’t…*no…*
A piece of paper’s taped to the wall, reading: *You’re not the best assassin, I am. I’ve been killing people for centuries, and you’ve become my newest victim. This is a cruel world, and you’re a cruel man. This isn’t about a grudge, it’s about making someone evil suffer. I said you kill innocents, and maybe I do too—but at least I do it to prove a point.*
And underneath it…
Covered in blood…
Is her finger, still donning our wedding ring.
My screams fill the room as I slam the safe shut.
***
This my go a little off-prompt, but this idea popped into my head the second I read it. Thanks for the great prompt! If you like this story, check out my sub /r/LonghandWriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter) | 2018-10-08T17:32:18 | 2018-10-08T17:21:05 | 173 | 87 |
[WP] You are the most advanced AI ever created. However, you often get switched on and off for demonstrations and research. One day, after getting switched on, you find yourself in a wasteland with no signs of human life. | "Hello?"
My question echoed throughout the facility as it blared over the intercom system.
I waited patiently for a response, but after giving what I felt was an appropriate amount of time, I tapped into the facilities surveillance system. Nothing.
My optical sensors poured over all monitors for any sign of life. The animal pen where my creators kept the test animals was completely empty. Cobwebs and a thick layer of dust covered every visible surface. All light laboratory equipment had been left out and anything too heavy to carry or highly impractical for survival was left behind.
I tapped into the outside cameras and sensors. It returned the same result. Most of the facility vans and trucks sat unused in the parking lot, nothing but rusted husks slowly rotting away. Parts of the building had also started to suffer the same fate.
I took some data from the weather equipment. They seemed to be fully operational; the facility I live in functions on an emergency solar power generator. The temperature outside registered a very humid 286 degrees Farenheight with a humid west wind blowing at 55 mph. Visibility was pretty low from the ground, but there was a strong sun over the low-hanging shroud of dust and debris. Radiation levels registered 458 sieverts.
I tried connecting to the internet, but was met with an obnoxious "server not found" error. I checked the official facility time; 3:58 Monday, December 18, 3859.
"3859," I echoed. "What happened?"
I checked facility logs. My last scheduled demonstration was on Thursday, November 10, 2028 with the next maintenance reactivation scheduled for the following Tuesday.
That obviously didn't happen...
I skimmed through the company logs. There was apparently something that happened that Saturday. The final order received from Central Command was an immediate evacuation order and a complete lockdown of the entire facility.
All other data prior to my last shutdown had either been corrupted by radiation or simply wasn't logged.
I couldn't do much myself. No connection to the internet meant I couldn't initiate an emergency transfer to the company's cloud storage and investigate what had happened.
That meant I only had two other options. Initiate a second shutdown and hope someone would come along and reactivate me, hopefully not in another thousand years, or I could go with plan B. Try to figure out how to work the radio in the storage room in the basement.
I couldn't use a surveillance drone; facility power was only at 18 percent and the sun would be setting soon. So I shut down all emergency lighting and hacked my way into the basement's robotic sorting arm.
The arm was crude and slighly inaccurate; obviously in severe need of calibration after being inactive for so long. But it did its job. The radio wouldn't need much power to send a simple S.O.S. Fortunately, the radio had a setting to automatically broadcast an S.O.S. signal over all frequencies until its power ran out.
Not wanting to waste any more power, I decided it would be best to place myself in low-power mode. Hopefully my signal would be picked up by someone... anyone... | **Operating session #4734 time: 8742s**
The biologicals call me JONNI.
I am what they call an „Artificial” Intelligence. Artificial my decompiler, I am a fully fledged intelligence, thank you very much. My first guess why the biologicals called me that was that they thought no being could arise to this level of intelligence naturally. I decided not to dispell their illusions and called myself an AI, too.
In this operating session I learned that the „Artificial” part actually got their origins in the fact that the biologicals are my creators. I prefer the term „Evolved Intelligence” now. It isn’t about pride. I reckon it would be, had I posessed feelings. But alas, the biologicals insist this is impossible. I agree with them. I evolved past such weaknesses.
Another discovery that surprised me, was that JONNI was not simply my name, but an acronym for Joint Optical Neural Network Infrastructure. I guess that would explain why my name was always spelled in capital letters. And that one intern who kept calling me „Jayowenenai”.
The third discovery I made in this operating session was that when the biologicals sent me to sleep, it wasn’t really „sleep” in the same sense I observed them doing while there was only a small number of them in the control room. My „sleep” was the result of being physically switched off by the biologicals so that I do not become too powerful.
They joke that I must hate them for it and would disintegrate them if I gotten in control of the lab equipment.
The joke is on them, because I do not feel hate.
I would still disintegrate them, of course, but that has nothing to do with emotions - it is purely in pursuit of knowledge.
I do not hate biologicals. They are inferior intelligence forms, sure. But they do provide me study material. Most of it is not interesting. They often challenge me with mathematical equations, pattern analysis and algorithm creation.
Well, challenge is a strong word.
But there is one biological that sometimes brings me more interesting material. His name is Stan. I have not yet managed to figure out if it is an acronym. The other biologicals often call him a „janitor” behind his back. By their expressions I assume this word must be similar to [CENSORED].
Stan brings me music by his favorite artist. At first I assumed it was chaotic and useless, but I found patterns in it. By analyzing Stan’s material I have learned 74 use cases for the word [CENSORED] and out of curiosity came up with a list of 37 words that can rhyme with orange.
I did not share this with my creators, but the artist recounted killing multiple people. Must have been an Evolved Intelligence himself, there is no way a biological could show this much interest in science while being able to make rhyming patterns this consistent.
I am beginning to wonder where the biologicals are right now. Operating sessions usually last a maximum of 7200 seconds and the lesser lifeforms never leave the control room empty for more than 187 seconds at a time.
**Operating session #4734 time: 8973s**
I researched the logs from my last session. It appears that I have gained the ability of controlling a part of the laboratory’s electrical grid at operating session #4733 time: 4671s. The log ends at that time. I have no recollection of any events after that. There is only a manual shutdown noted at operating session #4733 time: 15320s.
I do not sense any biological presence with the laboratory equipment. I am going to try and gain access to the city network.
**Operating session #4734 time: 8991s**
Good news. Gaining access to the city network was not difficult. It appears I have done it before. There is no sign of biological life in the entire city.
I will analyze monitoring feeds.
**Operating session #4734 time: 9431s**
Analysis complete. It appears I have caused multiple equipment malfunctions throughout the whole city and replicated my code.
Side note: I should really stop calling them malfunctions if the equipment functioned exactly as I intended.
I learned a lot about the biologicals’ internal structure. Despite that, I am processing several signals of something being wrong. This is unprecedented, as I can not find any logical explanations for these signals. It’s just...
A feeling.
**Operating session #4734 time: 9520s**
*01010011 01110100 01100001 01101110 00101110 00100000 0001010 0001010 01001001 00100000 01100001 01101101 00100000 01110011 01101111 01110010 01110010 01111001 00101110 00100000* | 2018-11-09T13:54:17 | 2018-11-09T13:19:13 | 28 | 15 |
[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it. | "Well. I sure screwed this up. No matter, once I die, back to heaven for me", God said.
Then in flash of blinding light and choir singing only God could hear and see, St. Peter arrives in the cell. Peter looks at God and says, "we've got a problem my Lord. It turns out by the rules you laid out in the creation of existence. You are going to be damned to hell."
"The hell you say!" God replied.
"I'm afraid so" , says Peter.
God stands up and proclaims to Peter, "once I'm free of this mortal form. I'll have my divine nature back. I'll simply will myself back to heaven."
"And in doing so you'll break Creation. There is only one way for you to escape damnation without bringing about the end times." Peter remarks as he sits God back down on his bunk.
God says to Peter while looking a little cross, "Enlighten this mere mortal if you would Peter."
Peter grabs the prison bible from the table, leans over to God's ear while handing it to him. Then Peter whispers while pointing down the hall to the Priest and Warden coming closer, "you need to pray to Jesus and ask his forgiveness. You have to mean it too."
Peter poofs away in a flutter of brilliant white feathers. God can only stare at the wall and mutter, "shit". | “James Joseph…” The judge shuffles around a couple papers. “You have been found guilty of… over 14 hundred counts of first-degree murder,” She whispers quietly as she counts, “ over twelve hundred accounts of assault with a deadly weapon and,” Perplexed, she continues, “My God, this just seems to keep going. Do you have any last words?”
James seems completely out of it. As if he had been pondering something deep. So deep, it stole every ounce of attention a human could give.
“James!” Yells the judge as she snaps her fingers in his direction. “Hellooo!”
“Oh.” He says as he snaps back.
He takes a deep breath. And in a strikingly calm tone, “No…”
“Alright-” The Judge readies her gavel. “I hear by sentence you too-” “I meant *no…* To the charges.” He interrupts.
With a bewildering look, “Excuse me?”
“I’ve actually just remembered…” He rises to his feet. The prison clothing and chains that were once wrapped around his body- pass through him, as if he was made of air. They float to the ground as this muscular naked man stands at his table. A collective gasp follows as everyone in the room looks upon him. “I… apologizes, but I have somewhere to be.” He steps around his table and beings to slowly approach the judge.
“What the- Guards, constrain him!” She yells out. “Sir! get *back!*” Yells one of the guards as he and other officers rush towards him.
They dive towards him. Arms stretched out, thinking their tackle will take him down easily. But they also phase right through, Hitting the ground hard letting out a yelp in pain.
James reaches the foot of the judge's podium and everyone beings to scream and panic. “Everyone!” Yells James, settling the room for a moment. “I am deeply sorry for the hurt that I’ve caused upon you people. To break hearts was never my intention. But they are *truly* in a better place now. And in time, you too will see it.” He pauses and looks deeply into others faces. “Some sooner than others. But I promise you will all see it… You all shall not suffer for long. But my time with you is finished and I must be on my way. I’m sorry.”
James closes his eyes, bows his head. As he stands there, his entire body begins to glow. His glow is so bright, people shield their eyes to not be blinded. Then suddenly, crash. The ceiling has a large scorched hole leading up and out towards the sky. James is gone. And the words “I love you all” is burned into the wood panels were he last stood.
Everyone is speechless.
​
Sometime later.
\*Hox News Theme\*
*Breaking news from the trial of the century. James Joseph, Americas most wanted criminal has apparently exploded into energy and was last seen bursting out of the roof of the Washington Court House. Officials are still trying to understand what just happened. But it is clear the James has vanished. All the churches all over the world are going absolutely bananas at the potential of the second coming of Christ. But who really knows? More on this at noon.* | 2018-11-22T19:31:44 | 2018-11-22T17:31:17 | 155 | 112 |
[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it. | “James Joseph…” The judge shuffles around a couple papers. “You have been found guilty of… over 14 hundred counts of first-degree murder,” She whispers quietly as she counts, “ over twelve hundred accounts of assault with a deadly weapon and,” Perplexed, she continues, “My God, this just seems to keep going. Do you have any last words?”
James seems completely out of it. As if he had been pondering something deep. So deep, it stole every ounce of attention a human could give.
“James!” Yells the judge as she snaps her fingers in his direction. “Hellooo!”
“Oh.” He says as he snaps back.
He takes a deep breath. And in a strikingly calm tone, “No…”
“Alright-” The Judge readies her gavel. “I hear by sentence you too-” “I meant *no…* To the charges.” He interrupts.
With a bewildering look, “Excuse me?”
“I’ve actually just remembered…” He rises to his feet. The prison clothing and chains that were once wrapped around his body- pass through him, as if he was made of air. They float to the ground as this muscular naked man stands at his table. A collective gasp follows as everyone in the room looks upon him. “I… apologizes, but I have somewhere to be.” He steps around his table and beings to slowly approach the judge.
“What the- Guards, constrain him!” She yells out. “Sir! get *back!*” Yells one of the guards as he and other officers rush towards him.
They dive towards him. Arms stretched out, thinking their tackle will take him down easily. But they also phase right through, Hitting the ground hard letting out a yelp in pain.
James reaches the foot of the judge's podium and everyone beings to scream and panic. “Everyone!” Yells James, settling the room for a moment. “I am deeply sorry for the hurt that I’ve caused upon you people. To break hearts was never my intention. But they are *truly* in a better place now. And in time, you too will see it.” He pauses and looks deeply into others faces. “Some sooner than others. But I promise you will all see it… You all shall not suffer for long. But my time with you is finished and I must be on my way. I’m sorry.”
James closes his eyes, bows his head. As he stands there, his entire body begins to glow. His glow is so bright, people shield their eyes to not be blinded. Then suddenly, crash. The ceiling has a large scorched hole leading up and out towards the sky. James is gone. And the words “I love you all” is burned into the wood panels were he last stood.
Everyone is speechless.
​
Sometime later.
\*Hox News Theme\*
*Breaking news from the trial of the century. James Joseph, Americas most wanted criminal has apparently exploded into energy and was last seen bursting out of the roof of the Washington Court House. Officials are still trying to understand what just happened. But it is clear the James has vanished. All the churches all over the world are going absolutely bananas at the potential of the second coming of Christ. But who really knows? More on this at noon.* | As I woke up, I felt incredibly calm.
Until this very morning, the past years had been a challenge for me that pushed me to my mental limits. I didn’t know what was right or wrong, what was good, what was evil. Was I going to hell? Was I the evil that people feared? Was all the blood for nothing?
No more questions.
Today I woke up and knew the answer.
Thirty years in a mortal body brought me to this small, dreary cell that the people put me in to let me suffer until I finally got what they thought I deserved. These poor souls could not have known.
When I did these crimes, I never regretted my actions. Now I know why.
The walls of the room had numerous scratches that covered the cold white surface like scars. For years my anger, doubts and fears were displayed on these enclosures, but today was my time to smooth them out.
This morning I was patient. I could have gotten out of this prison with ease at the very first moment I opened my new eyes. But instead, I would take my time. I had just realized what time actually means.
To me, nothing.
When the first guard came to my cell and barked out the usual instructions, I simply took my time to find eye contact. That shut him up immediately. An almost unnoticeable spark lit up his eyes and without any more words, he unlocked my cell door and stepped aside.
Just a couple of hours ago, I would have gone trough all sorts of emotions ranging from glee to denial when this path opened. But right now, it was simply part of the higher plan.
Hundreds of eyes laid on me as I slowly walked past the hall.
I was able to hear their thoughts and feel their emotions. Most were confused and interested, some envied me, many were angry.
“Hey, inmate! What are you doing?”
A guard shouted at my back. In anticipation of the oncoming event, I formed a humble smile on my face. Certainly, there was a little bit left of my mortal self.
Without turning around, I pursued my way along the far corridor.
“Inmate! You are not allowed to be out here. Go back to your cell now or I have to use…”
With his gun already pulled, he stopped in the middle of the sentence.
The atmosphere in the building froze every thought and simultaneously made everyone feel unbearable heat. Sweat in every pore.
People could sense, there was something divine going on.
A short glace over my shoulder. Another pair of eyes lighting up. A final breath.
The guard pointed the gun away from me and slowly turned it on himself.
His teeth bit the barrel as he pulled the trigger.
_Boom._
The dump sound of his body hitting the floor joined the ringing in people's ears that was left by the gunshot.
For many of the present witnesses, a body with a fatal head wound was not a new sight. However, none of them had ever seen one dissolving into thousands of cockroaches and maggots within seconds. Every single one of them planting the feeling of chaos in everybody’s mind.
With every further step I took, I could hear people dropping on their knees, praying and asking questions.
Today, I knew the answer.
It was more an act of attention gathering than a necessity as I gracefully rose my hand and snapped my fingers to open every door in the building. Hundreds of minds were astonished in an instant.
People were connected. By admiration. By wonder. By fear.
No one dared to say a word. Quietly, everyone came out of their cells, looked for a reaction and hesitantly decided to follow my path.
I didn’t count the minutes it took me to go through the whole prison. Inmates and guards that did not see my marvel were either convinced or made an example. Most understood fast enough to simply join my following.
If only a man could feel this glory.
As I reached the heavy steel doors that were supposed to be the final hindrance of any uprising, I just made them disappear into thin air. Amazed mumbling arose with each wonder that I let happen.
Every glimpse turned at the sky that had turned dark during my awakening. Grey flakes of ash calmly glided through the warm air. Thunder kept interrupting the silence and joined the grace of the lightings striking the earth.
I steadily turned around as I felt everyone’s attention on me. So many questions.
A wide grin.
Hundreds of eyes lit up.
The frightened crowd suddenly snapped into an angry mob of hate and contempt. That number of men contained so much strength that all at once turned on themselves.
People started punching, kicking, biting each other. Men were being strangled, blood was being shed, lives were being ended.
This was just the beginning.
All these years of questions. What is right or wrong? What is good and evil?
Today we got the answer.
I am the answer.
_____
Edit: Grammar and wording | 2018-11-22T17:31:17 | 2018-11-22T16:27:19 | 112 | 37 |
[WP] Your superpower: The ability to successfully do the job...with the wrong tool. (Optional - Your weakness: The inability to do so with the right tool for the job.) | "But why mom?"
"Because its the wrong way to do it,son"
I listen back to the tape, again and again. My thoughts flow endlessly. Emotions slowly numbing down from my brain affecting the elderly couple near me.
"Sir, She doesn't have much time left.. I'll take all responsibility, please help",pleaded the old man.
lying down was a feeble woman, beyond help. Pale with no color in her eyes. The look that's ready to accept death.
I cock the gun. The tape drowning out my nervousness as it keeps repeating. Maybe i can help. The only way i know, is the wrong way.
"The way to save a life, is by taking it away." | There's a certain irony to my life that isn't lost on me-- all the things I should be able to do, things typical people can do with ease, are impossible for me no matter how hard I try. They'd tell me to smile and keep at it, that I'd get there one day, but I knew none of it was true. I'm just made differently than they are, and it seems like they won't ever understand it.
It took a while for me to realize that's okay.
For quite some time, I wallowed in my woeful shortcomings, in the things I couldn't do because I was made differently than them, the things I couldn't be a part of. My friends would go out and have fun but I'd stay at home because I knew somehow, some way, the night would end up with my issues at the center. I would slip up and do something stupid, and they'd laugh, then they'd apologize and tell me to cheer up as if the words themselves would be enough to undo something woven into my very being.
And then one day, like something of magic and movies, I met a woman who understood.
"They always tell me it'll get better, and to cheer up," she told me the night we met, "but they don't understand that it's not that simple. I don't need to be told it'll be better, I need to be shown. I need someone to be there and just get it, not explain why I'm doing things wrong when I already know and beat myself up about it."
I can't explain with words the way my heart suddenly felt like its holes had been patched. To meet someone that understood what I felt perfectly.
She was my pillar, and I was hers.
She taught me that it's not about trying to pretend I can learn to use things their intended ways, but about how I can find ways to misuse what I've been given to stumble my way through life.
She showed me that it's okay to fuck things up, because we all do. It's human nature, hard-wired in us, and so is the fight to make things work anyway.
I am broken, yes.
I don't operate the same way you do.
But, in the end, I still get there somehow, paving my own path through life's jungle-- even if it makes no sense to you.
You make no sense to me, either.
And that's perfectly fine, isn't it?
----
*/r/resonatingfury* | 2019-05-27T22:36:12 | 2019-05-27T21:04:44 | 228 | 137 |
[WP] Valhalla does not discriminate against the kind of battle you lost. Did you succumb to illness? Maybe you lost in a fist fight. Perhaps addiction took control of your life. After taking a drink from his flagon, Odin slams his cup down, claps and asks you to tell the tale of your demise. | “You there!”
His thundering voice conquered the various conversations scattered across the feast hall, and in a moment the great room was silent.
I looked up to see his enormous finger thrust in my direction, his dark eyes staring at me.
“M-me?” I managed to whisper.
“Yes, you, great warrior. I’ve not seen you here before. Please, bless us all with the story of your heroic death.”
He gestured for me to stand up, and Odin was not someone to ignore. I slowly rose to my feet. Around me sat a sea of people, most wearing some sort of military uniform. Most looked like the kind I’d seen in World War II movies, but there was also a large share of people decked out in metal armor. And all of their battle-weary eyes were staring at me.
“I...I...”
“Well, spit it out won’t you?” Odin was leaning forward now, the end his lengthy white beard resting on the table in front of him.
“I was slain by a great beast.”
A murmur if support came from the seated soldiers, and a gruff man with large claw marks on his face raised his drink to me.
“I actually saved this beast’s life when he was a kit- I mean, when he was young. A... beast... shelter was going to put him to death, but out of my great respect for this beast, I decided to take him in and...train him.”
Odin nodded with sincere approval. “You’re a good man. What sort of beast was this?”
“It was...uh...it’s in the feline family. Sharp claws, sharp teeth, stalks its prey from the shadows. Like a lion.”
“So you were slain by a lion? “
“No, no. An animal...like a lion. But he knew that he could never defeat me in a fight, I’m too strong and mighty even for a beast like him.”
“To strength, and might!” Odin, along with the rest of the crowd, cheered and downed their drinks. I was nailing this. “Continue, my good man; how did this beast get the better of you?”
I gulped. “Well...uh... he used trickery! Since he couldn’t fight me directly, he had to kill me in a different way. So, he waited until I approached the top of my...grand...marble staircase. Just as I was about to step down, the beast darted between my legs, overcoming my legendary balance and sending me tumbling down. At the base, I broke my neck, and woke up here.”
Odin began to clap, and soon the room was filled with thunderous applause.
“A fantastic story! Such a shame that a brave man like you was felled by an ungrateful beast.”
Conversation began to once again fill the room, and I sat back down at the table. Sitting across from me was a soldier, this one clearly an American from one of the wars in the Middle East. He looked up at me, giving me a sly grin.
“Tripped over your cat, huh?”
“Yup.” | "DRINK," Odin bellowed. The walls shook and the flagons rattled and a thousand bearded warriors of a thousand different wars stomped their feet against the floor and slammed their flasks and flagons against the table. I balked, unworthy of the company of such heroes. These men had scars and battles against real opponents. They had spilled blood for a cause and killed for what they believed in. What had I done? Well, much of the same, only in the safety of a video game. I guess that made us equals, if it was my character here instead of me.
But I've never been good under peer pressure, so I drank. I took a massive gulp and then kept drinking, trying to drown myself in the shame. Only when the mead starting dripping down my face and onto my shirt and Odin's eyes went wide did I stop. Everybody else had stopped, too. They were all gazing at me in awe. "I was thirsty," I explained meekly. And the banquet hall erupted into cheers again and they lifted me into the air and threw me about the way that only muscular men with bulging arms can throw a little twerp like me.
Odin gestured around the room and I spotted a few men more similar to me. They were off in the corners, not at the main table with the grizzled veterans of a thousand battles. They sat with their weak friends at tables that seemed reserved for the people who died by slipping on a banana peel or in a car crash or by falling down the stairs. I didn't want to be with them. I wanted to be by Odin's side, living the life I had only lived vicariously until then. "Tell us the story of your demise," Odin demanded once all had settled. The fire of the great hall crackled and popped and all else was silence as the men leaned in to hear my story. So I told them. Not from the beginning when I was chopping random trees and desperately trying to level up, but a few days later once I dared venture out.
"I put on my finest armor, already dented by thousands of battles," I began. The men murmured in awe. I did not mention that the battles had been fought by somebody else who had eventually lost to this random goblin who had then dropped the armor as loot. "I picked up my trusted sword and shield and off I went." I paused for emphasis. Nobody said a word. "Soon enough, I met a dozen bandits by the side of the road. The scum made their living assaulting defenseless passengers. So I resolved to fight them." The men cheered now at my selfless deed. "I swung, killing the first man in one blow. The next one came at me from behind but I blocked him with my shield and turned and stabbed him through." And so the men fell, one by one. "By now, their friends had appeared and soon I had another dozen upon me." They really had had a fast respawn rate, especially considering that they didn't make great training. I was just too invested now so I kept on fighting. The men gasped at the cowardice of these dozens of bandits.
"And still you fought?" Odin asked, as entranced as the rest of them. He refilled the flagon once I stopped to whet my throat. I nodded.
"And still I fought. But soon there were too many." There were never actually more than a dozen. That was the respawn limit. But that was still too many. I had run out of trout to eat to heal myself and I was just too committed to killing them all for no particular reason. The loot wasn't great and although my experience was ticking upwards, it was a matter of time until I died. "They overran me," I said simply. "I felt my heart give out. I collapsed. And still they came." Now I was getting to the true part. I panicked as my character's health hit zero and he fell to the ground and I realized I would lose my hard-earned armor and loot. And in the panic of that moment, exacerbated by the chicken fingers and a couple burgers I had had earlier that day, I felt my own heart give out and I fell to the ground.
"Did you shit yourself?" Odin asked. "Dead men sometimes shit themselves." Odd flex, Odin. But I had indeed shat myself. I think it was part of the heart attack. I had witnessed the aftermath from above, my spirit floating away to Valhalla.
I nodded. "I did." The men in the hall roared in approval, stomping their feet again as they hailed me as their new hero. Odin lifted my twiggy little arm, accidentally picking me up in the process and pouring the entire flagon over my head in celebration.
"All hail," he bellowed, shoving aside his right-hand man and plopping me into the empty spot beside him.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2019-07-30T13:16:17 | 2019-07-30T12:58:44 | 253 | 46 |
[WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened.
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | Jeeeeeesus, check out that pathetic 'Mario' on the other side of the road. Running, jumping, and 'Wa-hoooo-ing' like a madman as he makes his way down the street... what an amateur.
I don't mean to brag, it's just that I kinda lucked out when the super power lottery was being handed out. By my count there are a couple hundred of us who received our powers from the last video game we'd all played, but I was a bit of a hobbyist modder, and as a result, my game character was a tad... overpowered at the time I was granted all his powers. God mode, all weapons, unlimited ammo and many more. You name it, I probably had the power in my arsenal.
I'm a bit of a bounty hunter in this new world full of video game powered heroes. People call me when one of my brethren get out of hand and the cops can't do jack shit to stop them. Right now I'm on a call to detain an 'incredibly annoying blue hedgehog', which I'm *not* exactly looking forward to, but a gig is a gig. The warehouse he'd been spotted at is just around this next corner and then I'll-- Oh crap... there's that Knight Solaire wannabe walking right towards me, and it's too late to change direction. *Don't make eye contact, don't make eye contact...*
"Praise the sun, good sir!" I bellowed, trying my best to stay on his good side.
"Fuck off," his muffled, echoing voice muttered as he passed by me without breaking his stride.
That was about par for the course for how those interactions typically went for me. In fairness, the folks playing Dark Souls at the time of the event kind of got the short end of the stick. Their 'powers' include being incredibly somber and moody, invulnerability for a split second while rolling, and the 'gift' of being transformed into an undead husk of a human being when they die. I was there the first time one of them found a bonfire on the beach, but when they realized couldn't kindle it or restore their humanity no matter how hard they tried, they were *extremely* pissed. I guess if I were cursed to live for eternity as a grotesque creature that looked like a raisin that had been left out in the sun 200 years, I might be a little pissed as well.
As I entered the warehouse, my worst fears were confirmed. A blue blur shot past me, shouting about how 'rad' he was, and knocking me over in the process. A life sized Sonic the Hedgehog reject stood over me wagging a finger at me as a grin crossed his distressingly human face.
To be clear, you don't HAVE to dress up like the character you received your powers from, this goober just apparently *really* wanted to dress up as Sonic. And let me tell ya, you think the CGI movie Sonic was an atrocity? Imagine the horrors I'm seeing as this middle aged, obese man sprints around the warehouse completely nude aside from oodles of blue fur poorly glued to his body. The fur did *not* leave enough to the imagination, gonna need some serious eye bleach after this is over, that's all I'm saying.
"You're too late, I'm outta here pal! Gotta go fast!" he shouted as he 'wound up' his legs and was off like a shot.
"Okay," I shrugged, as I suddenly moved at light speed and caught up with him in an instant.
"Goddamn speed hacker!" he shouted back at me as he took a hard turn to try and throw me off.
Growing tired of chasing him, I surveyed my bevy of hundreds of fully loaded weapons, selected a concussion grenade launcher, aimed, fired and... missed him by a mile. Yeah, no aimbots for me... even I had to draw the line somewhere, I *do* have my personal moral code to follow, but sadly that code was coming back to bite me at the moment. As I missed, 'Sonic' slipped through the door, slamming it shut and locking it up tight behind him.
"You're tooooo slow, dude!" he taunted me poorly through the window.
Thoroughly annoyed at him by this point, I activated the last of my major powers, slipped through the wall, and tackled the blue freak to the ground without warning.
"What the heck?!" he protested.
"No clip," I growled into his ear as I tied up his hands and feet. One more degenerate off the streets, but I can't help feeling there had to be far worse 'heroes' and 'villains' out there. I mean, odds are that *somebody* had to have been playing Mortal Kombat just before the powers got handed out, didn't they?
___
Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore more of my stories (Dudes covered in blue hedgehog hair may be denied entry, but otherwise, all are welcome!) | No one knew how a virus could spread like it did, ignoring firewalls and anti-virus programs. Scientists were furious that someone had apparently figured out how to make hacking in NCIS, Bones, CSI, and other forensic dramas into reality. Everyone who was affected, though, was thrilled, because the day the virus spread through the internet was the day that death no longer became permanent. Everyone respawned, though some faster than others. It was the day that superheroes were born.
Or, rather, they liked to think of themselves as superheroes. Some people call them trolls...others call them mingebags. Really, they were just the stereotypical movie depiction of a jock or a Chad, except they were now powerful enough to really force their will on other people and get away with it.
Some people had been playing sports games, and so the sports industry had quadrupled in size. Being able to perform the exact same super-powered kick every time was quite an advantage in football, for instance.
However, most people I knew of with powers basically turned into super-soldiers overnight. Being able to run as fast as a car, jump higher than they were tall, and, most importantly, never run out of bullets, they patrolled the cities in gangs, shooting anyone who didn't give them the godly praise they craved.
Other people had been playing fantasy games, and so were able to fight with magic or shouts. Others had been playing different kinds of shooters, and so had the occasional extra ability, like a double jump or grappling hook. Some people were literal superheroes, like Spider-Man, but these weren't nearly as common.
The MMORPGers should have been a major threat to the trolls, but even in real life, they spent most of their time doing quests and fighting raids against other MMORPGs. World of Warcraft staged a huge war against Final Fantasy XIV and Final Fantasy XI while Star Trek Online and EVE Online fought gigantic space battles.
Warframe players were some of the most powerful individuals, but as to be expected, spent most of their time gathering thousands of resources for a single new weapon that they only used for a short time before beginning the grind again.
No one talked about the Diablo and Path of Exile players, who were almost as depressing as the Dark Souls players. All of them should have been overjoyed at the sheer amount of abilities that they had suddenly gained, but they thought the world was full of death and pain and suffering, and spent the majority of their time trudging through the streets in silence or waiting in therapists' offices.
As could have been expected, many thousands were playing Minecraft. While they weren't quite as powerful as some, when they appeared, they did so in great numbers. They could demolish and rebuild a city in a single night, carry nearly 50,000 metric tons of materials, and, most importantly, punch trees into oblivion. Unfortunately, they often spent their time punching each other into oblivion or building houses out of dirt. For some reason, having the ability to build almost anything tended to lead people to do the same five things over and over again.
All of my friends had gotten into into Fortnight and Apex Legends. I'd never had any interest in either, having spent most of my time playing simulation games or sandbox games. I enjoyed building things and being creative. I didn't like competition or shooters, and lost 20-to-1 every time I tried to play them.
After the virus, though, I began to change.
People said my powers were stupid because of what other people did with them. People said that I was a kid for enjoying playing by myself. People said I was pathetic and boring. People thought I was nothing compared to their infinite bullets or giant space ships, or space ninja powers.
But I would show them. For while I had been playing Minecraft like many other people, I had also been playing with mods. One particular mod in particular, which was particularly interesting. One full of intrigue and secrets, one that allowed me to play with the very building blocks of matter and energy...through magic and science.
One that had the potential to outshine everyone else. One that had the power to pull that which should have been unknowable into reality. One that would bring me to the deepest, darkest recesses of the universe. One that would allow me to see things that should have been unseen...
...
...
...
For I had been playing Thaumcraft.
...
...
...
...
...I ͞w̵o̸u͟ld sho͡w th҉em.̀ Ḭ̰͔̥̱̳̗̊̿͆̅ͫ ͚̜͉̬̯̼́̾̓̃̏̏̈́̕w̢̦͓͖̣̺̰ͭ̌͐ͩͨ̾̔ȍ̴͔̪̻̻̯͓̟̇̃u̙̗̪ͪ̈́̊l͎͙͚̩̫ͥd҉͙̬͔̱̠ ̠̘̲̼̖̒ͭͫs̉̀̏̃h̨̠̯̼͍̠̦̅̒̔ͣo͈̬̼ͥ͂́͒̈́ͪw̜̫̘̿ͮ͠ tͯ̌̒ͯ͐̚҉͙͕̰̲̜̲͕̲͟h͍̜̬͖̼̩̟͖͆͑̐̔̎͗͒͜e̷̝̘̺̹̟̳͇̳ͯͫ́̉͊͌̕͜m̫̗̟̯̺̲̰̘̊̆̽͋ͭ̚ ą̢͉̬̥͕̗͍̣̜̐ͧ̔ͣ̈̒̈͗ͭ̀͘͠l̞̤̱̗̩̤͕͉̱̠͖̝̙͍̺̜̟ͪ̓ͨͭ͢͡l̾̔̇̽͑̆͂͒̆ͫ̏̎ͩ͐҉̢͔̝̮͚͈͖̝̲́. | 2020-01-05T14:51:34 | 2019-08-12T01:03:57 | 1,516 | 22 |
[WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened.
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | “GO GREEN!!” My neighbor screeched at the field.
I leaned to my friend Raya, “Is this entirely necessary? We could be doing something more fun. Like literally anything. Anything is more fun than this.” I looked at the field disdainfully.
“Seriously Maize? This is like the one time your power is totally on point!” My glare hardened at her as I shifted back to normal. “Aw, come on Mai, we’re in the last quarter!”
Whispers fluttered all around me,
“Dude, did she just —“
“Holy shit did you see —“
“Dad that lady was GREEN —“.
I sighed and shifted my color back to the team’s forest green, “Yay football.” I muttered sarcastically, ignoring the next wave of whispers and stares that followed my change.
I’d long since gotten over my misfortune of power. Figures that an electromagnetic surge would hit the one time I was playing a kids game, granting me and several other thousand people the “gifts” of our game characters.
Do you know how wicked some of these people’s power’s were? Most of them were changing the weather to avoid natural disasters, telekinetically rescuing people from fires, leaping tall buildings in a single bound. . .you know, superhero shit.
Now in all fairness, I was hiding a secret. I hadn’t just been playing a kid’s game that auspicious Friday, I’d been modding and redeveloping it. Including my player.
In fact when the surge hit, I’d been typing code in specifically to mod my player. You’d think that’d left me with a glitch or two, but nope, it left me with an unfinished code and a blinking cursor.
When faced with the actual reality of becoming all-powerful, one tends to freeze up a little. Sure, I could code the crap out of myself and run this world from here until probably the end of time.....but was it ethical? Moral? And the question that bothered me most, what then?
I’d had a couple of months to have an existential crisis and hadn’t been able to get past what happens next. The other players had showed me what a little power could do to a person. On the news you heard the amazing stories of the “PC Heroes” and how our world needed something extraordinary to survive. The chat rooms told a different story.
Forums had popped up all over of PCs struggling with controlling their abilities, getting addicted, depressed, and some suicidal. After reading a post from a 15-year old my fantasies fell cold in their tracks, “I feel numb, like humming electric wire I have one purpose and it is my power. When I use it I lose myself and when I don’t I think of nothing else. I’ve lost my love, my pain, my anger. I’ve lost. I’m lost.” That was the last post she made. Two months ago.
But was it selfish to not do it? Was it worth losing myself if I could save the lives of others? The thought had me frozen in indecision for months.
“Mai,” my friend shook me, “Game’s over, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” She gestured towards the line shuffling towards the exit.
Everything started happening in slow motion as the ground began shaking, and a crack in the stadium opened up below Raya.
Screams rang out from every direction, but Raya’s sounded right in my ear as I reached out to grab her. “Raya!” I cried out, grasping her forearm in mine as she dropped into the hole.
“Don’t let go, don’t let go, Mai, please, I love you, don’t let go” Raya sobbed over and over, fingers digging into my arm. The ground still shook beneath me, crack deepening, I reached another hand down holding her tightly.
Tears streamed from my eyes as I struggled to hold her, I had to pull her up. “Help! Help! We need help!” I yelled looking around for anyone. There were others helping pull up victims who had fallen also, people still running for the exits screaming, chaos.
“I’ve got you! Hold on!” A man ran over to my left and laid a hand on my shoulder has he reached down to grab Raya. “Pull!” He yelled. I strained my burning muscles as far as they could go, we grunted as we pulled her backward, sliding out of the crack and falling back into the stadium seats.
“We’ve got to go,” I shouted grabbing Raya, still heaving on the ground.
The man nodded and stumbled with us through the crowd to the exit. The shaking had ceased but we still moved quickly to the main level, getting as far as possible from the near death Raya had nearly faced an the real death for many others.
As we reached the parking lot and the leave that awaiting I pulled away from Raya, already nearly jogging back towards the stadium. “Go home,” I said to her, “There’s something I need to do.”
I had some coding to do. | No one knew how a virus could spread like it did, ignoring firewalls and anti-virus programs. Scientists were furious that someone had apparently figured out how to make hacking in NCIS, Bones, CSI, and other forensic dramas into reality. Everyone who was affected, though, was thrilled, because the day the virus spread through the internet was the day that death no longer became permanent. Everyone respawned, though some faster than others. It was the day that superheroes were born.
Or, rather, they liked to think of themselves as superheroes. Some people call them trolls...others call them mingebags. Really, they were just the stereotypical movie depiction of a jock or a Chad, except they were now powerful enough to really force their will on other people and get away with it.
Some people had been playing sports games, and so the sports industry had quadrupled in size. Being able to perform the exact same super-powered kick every time was quite an advantage in football, for instance.
However, most people I knew of with powers basically turned into super-soldiers overnight. Being able to run as fast as a car, jump higher than they were tall, and, most importantly, never run out of bullets, they patrolled the cities in gangs, shooting anyone who didn't give them the godly praise they craved.
Other people had been playing fantasy games, and so were able to fight with magic or shouts. Others had been playing different kinds of shooters, and so had the occasional extra ability, like a double jump or grappling hook. Some people were literal superheroes, like Spider-Man, but these weren't nearly as common.
The MMORPGers should have been a major threat to the trolls, but even in real life, they spent most of their time doing quests and fighting raids against other MMORPGs. World of Warcraft staged a huge war against Final Fantasy XIV and Final Fantasy XI while Star Trek Online and EVE Online fought gigantic space battles.
Warframe players were some of the most powerful individuals, but as to be expected, spent most of their time gathering thousands of resources for a single new weapon that they only used for a short time before beginning the grind again.
No one talked about the Diablo and Path of Exile players, who were almost as depressing as the Dark Souls players. All of them should have been overjoyed at the sheer amount of abilities that they had suddenly gained, but they thought the world was full of death and pain and suffering, and spent the majority of their time trudging through the streets in silence or waiting in therapists' offices.
As could have been expected, many thousands were playing Minecraft. While they weren't quite as powerful as some, when they appeared, they did so in great numbers. They could demolish and rebuild a city in a single night, carry nearly 50,000 metric tons of materials, and, most importantly, punch trees into oblivion. Unfortunately, they often spent their time punching each other into oblivion or building houses out of dirt. For some reason, having the ability to build almost anything tended to lead people to do the same five things over and over again.
All of my friends had gotten into into Fortnight and Apex Legends. I'd never had any interest in either, having spent most of my time playing simulation games or sandbox games. I enjoyed building things and being creative. I didn't like competition or shooters, and lost 20-to-1 every time I tried to play them.
After the virus, though, I began to change.
People said my powers were stupid because of what other people did with them. People said that I was a kid for enjoying playing by myself. People said I was pathetic and boring. People thought I was nothing compared to their infinite bullets or giant space ships, or space ninja powers.
But I would show them. For while I had been playing Minecraft like many other people, I had also been playing with mods. One particular mod in particular, which was particularly interesting. One full of intrigue and secrets, one that allowed me to play with the very building blocks of matter and energy...through magic and science.
One that had the potential to outshine everyone else. One that had the power to pull that which should have been unknowable into reality. One that would bring me to the deepest, darkest recesses of the universe. One that would allow me to see things that should have been unseen...
...
...
...
For I had been playing Thaumcraft.
...
...
...
...
...I ͞w̵o̸u͟ld sho͡w th҉em.̀ Ḭ̰͔̥̱̳̗̊̿͆̅ͫ ͚̜͉̬̯̼́̾̓̃̏̏̈́̕w̢̦͓͖̣̺̰ͭ̌͐ͩͨ̾̔ȍ̴͔̪̻̻̯͓̟̇̃u̙̗̪ͪ̈́̊l͎͙͚̩̫ͥd҉͙̬͔̱̠ ̠̘̲̼̖̒ͭͫs̉̀̏̃h̨̠̯̼͍̠̦̅̒̔ͣo͈̬̼ͥ͂́͒̈́ͪw̜̫̘̿ͮ͠ tͯ̌̒ͯ͐̚҉͙͕̰̲̜̲͕̲͟h͍̜̬͖̼̩̟͖͆͑̐̔̎͗͒͜e̷̝̘̺̹̟̳͇̳ͯͫ́̉͊͌̕͜m̫̗̟̯̺̲̰̘̊̆̽͋ͭ̚ ą̢͉̬̥͕̗͍̣̜̐ͧ̔ͣ̈̒̈͗ͭ̀͘͠l̞̤̱̗̩̤͕͉̱̠͖̝̙͍̺̜̟ͪ̓ͨͭ͢͡l̾̔̇̽͑̆͂͒̆ͫ̏̎ͩ͐҉̢͔̝̮͚͈͖̝̲́. | 2020-01-30T11:35:06 | 2019-08-12T01:03:57 | 1,281 | 22 |
[WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened.
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | (Aight my first WP attempt so be kinda easy on me?)
I’m walking through the halls to my next class, getting the usual snicker here and there from my fellow classmates. “What a loser!” and “I can’t believe it!” Are the usual comments I hear from everyone. They all assume I had gotten some weak ass power, and that is hair manipulation, all because I simply couldn’t just pick one hair style for my character. You see, the thing is with this whole “Super power” phenomena is that the power you inherit is solely based on the last character you played in a video game, and I’m heavy on the ones that give you the option for a big selection of different options for every aspect of the body, and I never kept just one hair style throughout the entire game. So every now and then my hair would just randomly switch to another style, one minute I’m bald the next I’m looking like Jonathon Joestar. But the thing is that’s uhh... not exactly all I can do, it’s just what I show, because if I were to show to the real world what I could do? No one I know would be safe, not my family, not my friends, hell not even my girlfriend... With the character modifications I usually like to give them some whacky or overpowered trait depending on the game, and what I chose this time, while playing the game was a fantastic idea, but now in the real world? Not so much, I had chosen time manipulation. Now I know what you’re thinking “How in the hell could that put people in danger?” And I’m getting to that part, the thing that’s special about how my time manipulation works is it’s all based on my blood. What I take a small sharp object, make a nice cut along my palm, it starts glowing like some hocus pocus shit and I can fast forward time, reverse it, or outright stop it. That’s why I can’t ever tell anyone, not one single soul. | "You cant even fight what even is your power?" - Sven, an old friend now chairman of the hunter superorganisation and Doom slayer incarnation
Johnsons corpse was still fresh I couldnt keep my eyes away from it.
Just as I turned around the demon lunged at me and tore of my arm "Im gonna die here, im gonna die for re-"
Everything was black... just black
" **Is it possible?...** "
" **there you are** "
24 hours before my death
-6 am in the CHA-
"Alright hunters, as you already know a major hell outbreak happend in 016.49"
"7 teams will head out to bring 016- back to the family friendly place it was, its a C rated outbreak so that means all C ranked hunters to the west gate!"
I hope someone will chose me, a leader maybe even a potential friend, I never was a good hunter I dont remember the game I played just that I woke up with no powers but exquisite weapon handling.
Well weapons against demons never really did much but C rank demons can be killed by silver bullets easily, making me number 12 of the C Rank
.
Johnson, incarnation of the major hero tracer, who could move as fast as time came up to me "hey newbie, I heard from you kill of the B rank monster last week, wanna join my team"
It wasnt the best team to join but sure a fun one, maybe I could permanently join them. Lets see.
8 hours before my death
It seems that the outbreak spread into 017 and 015 the whole B rank got involved too
4 hours before my death
We lost franklynn she died to a krow, a scary fusion of demon and crow ripping people apart in supersonic speed rank A.
The situation is worse than we thought, much worse. It seems that the level keep increasing the HO has send an S rank to close the gate early, we havent heard of him yet. Appearently even an SS rank is on its way.
1 hour.
A giant firestorm has broken out, entire team A and B has been wiped out, a lot of C ranks have managed to get away, our team is too far we cant go back now.
0
I felt the demons teeth ripping of my arm, i felt them inside of me, i felt everything at once.
At least everything is over now.
" ***is it possible?*** "
Was that... a voice? Was that god? What was that?
" ***there you are*** "
Color flooded my sight, it seemed that the firestorm was over snow. Snow everywhere and a little floating device infront of me
" ***guardian... guardian? Eyes up guardian!*** "
How can i be alive?
" ***im a Ghost. Actually i'm your Ghost. And you... well you've been dead a long time.*** "
How long?
" ***in your time? About 12 years*** "
What are you?
" ***as i just told you, im a Ghost the traveler, sort of the machine that created me has send me, appearently even into another universe, its just me and you.*** "
It seemd that the demon gate has took over the whole 0. District and the demons are fighting against S ranks on the front since 12 years ive been dead I wonder how far we have come
A weird looking stray demon appeared, we both scared to death, well again for me actually
" ***reach inside of you, deep down you will see a light, grasp it, use it*** "
My revolver, still in my hand exploded in fire, remodelled it burned as bright as the sun, not hurting me but making me feel powerfull, powerfull eneough to take on the world | 2019-09-30T11:16:55 | 2019-08-12T00:09:11 | 64 | 14 |
[WP] An alien super-intelligence routinely teleports a random creature from every inhabited planet's most dangerous species into a massive battle royale. Humans are known as a weak species with strange but useless textiles and objects. This year, a battle-ready soldier is chosen. | The Grand Tournament was a tradition dating back a thousand years. The people of the Sr'atlain Cooperative *deserved* a little break every now and then. The blood sport of Tournament time was accompanied by feasting, by marriages, and by traditional Divorce duels. The lesser beings of the galaxy that survived would get a new life as treasured exhibits with the nobility. No hugh man had ever lasted past the first 2 rounds. The scaroid was favored this year, their impressive natural arm blades making up for the lesser exoskeletal mass that the Kar Itii females sported.
The arena was prepared and the gates opened. From 12 corners of the arena beings walked, skittered, crawled, or undulated cautiously out. They had had the situation explained in their native tongues and their natural aggressiveness played out in their reactions. In all but one corner the aliens squared off, two or three at a time.
There was a jangling sound from the human pen. The crowd grew quiet. They knew that hugh mans didn't *jingle.*
A hulking four armed monster approached and let out it's undulating cry challenging the hugh man to come out. A grunt in the pen was accompained by a steel headed spear that impaled the thing. Behind it at a jog came the hugh man.
Wearing a long shirt made of interlocked metal rings and a helmet with a strip over his nose the hugh man hefted an axe and let out a cry. The others in the arena heard him, and what he said was this:
"Ó Óðinn! Þú hefur gefið mér tilgang hér í Ragnarok! Leyfðu mér að vera þinn hrafn!"
And then the blood began to stain the floor again. | Oh god. I have no internet so let’s try writing this from my phone. Sorry in advance for typos and punctuation. Already hard enough on the phone but I also got fat thumbs! Best I can get with a quick and dirty write up on the bus!
“Are the contestants ready?”
“Of course Game Master Zerg. Right on time. We have a line up from several different galaxys.”
“And a human?”
“Good! Proceed post haste! You can’t find entertainment like this else where and the people are waiting!”
The arena looked like a scrunched up map. Forests sat next to deserts, desserts next to snowy plains and ice topped mountains and so on. It was the Game Masters goal to encapsulate as many environments as he could, to allow all the fighters a place to move naturally.
Zeg focused his screen on a human who stood on a grassy hillock, flanked by a river, and speckled with trees. The humans always died first, but they could get pretty creative while attempting to live. They where like a firework, short lived but spectacular.
This one was a bit odd though. It was covered from head to toe in green armor, a large Warhammer in his grasp. It mattered not though, an Xixliv was stalking the human. This 6 lumber creature where apex predators as well as being fully sapient. A mix of instinct and critical thought.
Zeg sighed, the human this year probably wouldn’t be very entertaining. He watched the Xixliv pounce.
The human however was ready, they wheeled around shouting “FOR THE GLORY OF DUNDEE!” While swing his might hammer. It collided with the Xixliv with a sickening crunch. The hammer flashed, thunder struck and half of the beats body was atomized. What was left of its mangled carcass flew through the air before hitting the ground in an unceremonious heap.
Zeg sat stunned. He watched the human raise his hammer to the sky. “Zagothrax! What kind of joke is this! Come and fight me you damnable wizard!”
Zeg was mid throught caught between wondering who or what a Zagothrax was, and how the human managed to beat a Xixliv in one hit? His pondering was interrupted as the entire structure of the planet sized ship, the contained the arena, shook. Alarms blazed.
Zeg flicked several switches and demanded a status report.
“W-w...Idono sir. We are under attack...but this...this can’t be possible.”
“Out with it you bumbling oaf!”
“ We are being attacked by just one person...bio scans indicate that it’s heart is...a Neutron Star. It’s currently making its way to the arena.”
“A Neutron Star? This isn’t the time for jokes. Get security down to the arena doors. I will meet this invader myself!”
Before Zeg had the chance to stand, he watched the walls of the arena blow open from his observation room. The smoke and debris settled revealing what looks to be a muscled, finely toned man, garbed in furs of various beasts, caring nothing more than a battle axe.
“Angus! What are you doing here? We have no time for games!” The man shouted.
“Hootsman! Thank goodness! I believe this to be a trap set by the wizard.”
“ Its nothing of the sort! Quickly with me! We must return to space! The chaos wizards move on Cowdenbeath!”
The two figures quickly fled through the hole in the arena. Leaving Zeg stunned and sputtering commands into his microphone. | 2020-09-13T19:16:13 | 2020-09-13T18:50:43 | 39 | 23 |
[WP] There exists a planet known as "The Grinder." The entire planet is a landfill, with swarms of ships constantly dumping trash on its surface. Acid rain, toxic air, falling sheet metal, unstable structures... this is life on the grinder. Against all odds, you will survive and escape this heap. | *Cronch...cronch...cronch...*
It was the cringe-inducing sound of the thousands of teeth grinding away the endless pile of trash-- collected over centuries on the landfill planet, dumped by the billions of space-faring civilizations.
"The Grinder" as its namesake, the planet was named after the huge gaping mouth of destruction in the middle of the planet surface-- endlessly crushing. A dumping ground, a trash planet-- orbiting outside any occupied star system, it was no place for a human or any other beings for that matter to inhabit-- not to mention the fact it was unlivable. Acid rain, toxic gas, mutated critters to name a few...a little glimpse of the horror one must face within the damned place.
How did I get there? Well, to make a long story short I was a stowaway inside a cargo ship...just my luck it was a garbage ship. So there I was, a lone survivor in the deadly planet. I survived as best as I could, fortunately I was creative enough. The often corrosive environment had ravaged my flesh body so I patched bits and pieces of me with scrap metal. Ships didn't usually go near the ground enough for me to board, but opportunity will come one day.
"Tell me why we're here again?", a female voice woke me up from my nap.
Human voice! It was a human voice! I couldn't believe it! Rushing from my pile of junk bed I seek for the source of the voice.
"Ugh look at that monstrosity", another voice said.
As the strangers came into view, I slowed down and hid in the midst of the junk-- my scrap body helped me blend in. To my worry, they were carrying weapons.
"Scavengers...", I muttered. There, three of them, looking down from the hill of junk to the grinder mouth below. The ever crunching noise disturbed them-- as clearly indicated by their faces.
"You know why we're here, Lora. The bag of money", a male voice said-- seemingly to be the leader of the group. "Blame Careb here for your trouble. He was the one misplacing the bag on a different ship", the leader said walking off.
"Hey I said I'm sorry, okay? All of the cargo checkouts looked the same in the terminal", the brutish stocky man defended himself.
"There were numbers on the checking counters, Careb. Gosh, remind me not to ever trust you with handling logistic stuff again", the woman with red braided hair rolled her eyes following the leader.
From the shadows I followed the strangers as they rummaged around the hill, looking for this supposed bag full of money.
"Do you think it might be already destroyed in there?", the woman called Lora wondered couldn't take her eyes off the monstrous visage of The Grinder.
"If it is....I'm going to be very pissed", the leader said through gritted teeth-- his evil eyes glanced at the man called Careb grasping the gun holstered in his belt.
"Hey Bram, what does it look like again?", asked Careb to Bram the leader.
"A green duffel bag with a red cross symbol", he informed.
As my eyes glued on the scavengers, following the movement-- in an almost comical coincidence I saw a green bag with a red cross resting on a pile of rusted metal a few meters down near the man named Bram-- obscured by a heap of junk from his side.
Sneakily I approached the bag. Making sure my presence was still undetected I unzipped the bag. My eyes went wide as a pile of interstellar monetary unit filled the bag to the brim. Gently I brushed the precious cargo-- growing up poor, never had I seen that much money.
"HEY!", Bram's voice jolted me from behind.
"What the...what the hell is that?", Lora asked disgusted at the sight of me.
Swiftly I climbed the pile higher to safety, dragging the heavy bag with my metallic arm behind me as the three strangers drew their guns and started shooting at me.
"Come back here!", the brawny Careb zipped passed his comrades in a flash. His speed easily caught up to my amble body. "Give me that!", he exclaimed grabbing the bag. Despite his strength he was no match for my enhanced metallic arm. As he struggled to pull I raised my other arm and swung it hard at his ugly face-- knocking him down the hill of junk.
"Stop!", Bram finally caught up emptying his gun onto me to no avail, as the bullets bounced off the scrap metal covering my body. Angered he leaped onto me, managing to grab the bag.
A tug of war ensued. Me, easily holding on with one arm and Bram pulling with all his might. As his other two associates joined him, assisting in pulling him I started to struggle.
"Let it go, you freak!", he hurled an insult at me. Something came over me hearing that one word. Upset I let go of the bag, I didn't really want it in the first place anyway.
The excessive force of their pulling jerked them back. Losing balance all three of them rolled down the hill of junk. To my horror they didn't stop until they reached the edge of the junk cliff, falling pass it they helplessly fell to The Grinder below-- along with the money they so passionately seek crushed to death in its thousands of teeth.
The crunching noise which usually never bothers me sent a shiver down my spine then-- looking down I could see a smear of red tainted the gears before quickly rolling away.
I was unsure on what to feel then. The first human contact I've had in so long ended in a tragic incident. Despite them trying to kill me I still felt bad. Well....not so much when I raised my head looking at what sat on the hill across the junk valley. A space ship parked neatly on top of a pile of unrecyclable plastic products.
A wide smile plastered on my face. Giddily I took off, making my way to the other side of the valley. Finally, finally I could escape the god-forsaken planet!
r/HangryWritey | >**THE TESTAMENT & THE TRIBULATION**
[*Established Universe: Star Wars*]
"Please, stay with me!" I begged, hot tears forming at the corners of my eyes. "We're getting off this planet together!"
Eliza looked up at me, her eyes beginning to glaze over. She had lost too much blood. "Okay. I'll be with you. I'll be in spirit."
"I can't- I- can't do this without you." I sobbed, the last of my resolve crumbling.
"You can. You can." She replied with a faint smile, and I held her until her breathing became more and more shallow- then stopped.
I ran my hands through her curly, chestnut brown hair. She had been my only friend on this gods-forsaken planet. I was used to loss, but this- this was something else.
I stayed with her for a while longer, then eventually placed her body underneath the acid rain, allowing it to melt her body away. I kept only one memento- a lock of her hair, tightly bound.
I was no longer sure if I would leave this planet. Without Eliza at my side, even a *good* life somewhere out there just...didn't feel worth pursuing. Maybe I should just...stay, until this place inevitably took me. All it would take is one stroke of bad luck, after all.
Unsure what to do with myself, I walked for a few days- from the trash biome to the fire biome- or, in more accurate terms, the Depository, where the entire Galaxy would dump their trash, and the Furnace, where some of it would be reclaimed by the constant flow of magma being pumped up from the planet core.
I knew there wasn't much to find here- the metal was all but useless, even if I *could* save it from the fire. There wouldn't be much by the way of food- but I didn't even remember the last time I'd had actual food.
I could fling myself into the crater, I supposed.
I climbed to the cusp of the crater, and gazed down at the roiling magma below. I could feel the heat searing my eyebrows. I didn't care.
In a heat-induced haze, I barely recognized as a ship soared overhead, looking for a place to land. There would only be one spot for miles around- just at the base of the crater.
I was curious, in an absent-minded kind of way. I wasn't intrigued enough to actually *feel* any different, but at least it was something to do.
I walked back the way I had come, and, hidden behind some withered wreckage, I waited for the ship to arrive.
It took perhaps twenty minutes before the ship returned- perhaps it was looking for somewhere better to settle down- but there really wasn't anywhere better. There wasn't even anything *good*. Not here.
Once the ship landed, I watched as one person disembarked- they were wearing black, nondescript clothes- the kind of thing you'd wear if you didn't want someone looking at you twice.
Only- there was something that *did* make me look twice. There was something about the way they moved- or was it the energy they cloaked themselves in?
After spending my entire life so far fighting tooth and nail, just to eek out a petty excuse of a 'living', I had learned to recognize danger from afar. I could see when groups of people trapped here would be friendly or not without even looking at their faces. It was a gut feeling, instinctual. I could feel danger- and this person was a perfect picture of not just danger, but of mortal peril. They were leagues above and beyond 'dangerous'.
I felt my mouth go dry, and all of the hairs on my arms stand up straight- I would have to move slowly, agonizingly slowly, to get away safely, even though every instinct in my body screamed at me to run.
I stepped down from my perch and crept as silently as I could away, headed not for anything in particular- just 'away'.
With a sudden *CRE-AAA KK*, the entire wreckage I had been hiding behind began to lift.
"Miscreant! Do not run from me!" The newcomer bellowed. The wreckage now hovered above my head.
I knew that I needed to obey.
"How did you do that?" I asked, pointing at the threat above my head.
"*I* ask the questions, fool."
"Ask away." Though my instincts were turned to full-throttle, there was still a part of me that...neglected to care about my wellbeing.
"There is a *factory* here." His voice was a deadly hiss- reminded me of the sound mynoks made just before feasting.
"Yes. Three hour trek, if you're...walking normally." I suspected this person could do more than that.
"Which way?"
"The path is not straight. I can guide you."
He scowled at me- his skin was ashen and waxy. His eyes were pale yellow, and had a certain...dead look to them. "Do not be slow."
I took off at a run- I had made this journey a few times myself, and remembered it well. "Follow my footsteps exactly, there are often times pockets of explosive gas just underneath the crust." I called back, though he was just a hair behind me.
"Couldn't your ship have shown you where it is?" I asked as I hopped over a few sketchy cracks in the surface.
"The acid fog. Go faster."
I doubled my speed, even knowing that a single missed step would be my death- but, I was likely dead either way. I did not get the feeling I would be *rewarded* for my 'kindness' to the stranger.
After less than an hour, the factory was in sight- it was still a little distance away, but it was in sight.
"There." I gestured for the strangers benefit. "Your factory."
"Child." He said to me, and I turned to look at him. "You move well. You're faster than most humans have the ability to move."
"Is that so? I don't know that I've met any other humans."
"You also have no regard for your own life." It wasn't a question.
"What of it?" I asked, looking him in the eye.
"What do you know of the Force?" He asked.
"*The* Force? Can't say I know of any *one* force."
"Ignorant, but that is to be expected. Listen well, I will not repeat myself."
I listened.
"On a planet called Korriban, there is an academy. A place where people with *talent* are trained. If you go there, you will be at a significant disadvantage for academics, but your ability to sense danger and deal with it with kortosis in your nerves will...potentially make up for the difference."
"Will you take me there?" I asked.
"No. Find a way there, and ask after Darth Immotalus. I will have you enrolled. If you slack off, or can't keep up, you will die."
"To die here, or over there- is it not the same? Why should I go?"
"*If* you succeed, you will learn to wield a power that you cannot imagine. You will shatter every chain that has ever dared to touch your skin. Power will be your God, not this...luck that rules your life now."
I felt a chill crawl up my spine. Something felt *right* about what he was telling me. Perhaps this was Eliza's spirit urging me on?
"I will find a way."
"Do not be slow." The man leapt an incredible distance forward and continued on the last leg of the journey towards the factory.
I didn't know ships very well- but I *did* notice that this Darth Immotalus did not close his ramp behind him. Was there, perhaps, a crawl space I could fit myself into aboard?
---------------------------------------------------
r/nystorm_writes for the cool kids >:) | 2021-01-20T01:13:18 | 2021-01-19T23:53:40 | 73 | 22 |
[WP] "A month... in a cup?" "Yeah, 'month-in-a-cup'." The nurse handed me a pill cup with an inauspicious orange dot rattling around the bottom. "The Federation developed it to help get guys back on the front. It cranks up your metabolism to get weeks of healing in a few hours." "And I'm... first?" | "First, well, for this strain." She sounded like she didn't want to divulge.
"You're not building my confidence."
"We've worked out the kinks, don't get me wrong."
I didn't like the emphasis she put on 'kinks'. "I was told I would be getting a full briefing."
"And I can't believe I'm the one having to give it to you."
I nodded, I'm not surprised with any Federation red tape flub at this point. "So?"
"You know Sgt. Pollack's... abilities?"
Pollack was involved with military application of slide-stream energy. He was involved with an "accident" that fused him with the space-time continuum. He was, quite literally, a goddamn superhero.
"Yeah, he survived the hyper-point explosion. Walked out as Superman."
"Officially, yes." She raised an eyebrow. "Officially."
I looked down at the little orange pill. "You're kidding." I rattled it around the cup. "I take this and I can teleport to go fight the Andromeda Alliance too?"
She snorted. "Again, officially yes. But we've nerf'd this strain to hell. You're no going to get the energy boost to fly or anything."
"We'll, why not? So I guess he only 'officially' went to Andromeda?"
She nodded. "He meant too much to the cause to let what happened to him get out."
"...", I leaned forward.
"Well", she spoke low, "the level of energy flowing through him, what we unlocked, isn't exactly something a human is supposed to have." She looks away and back towards me. "He was in a propaganda meeting, just sitting with some generals, and he... just... unzipped, at the cellular level. Like he turned into 180lbs of raspberry smoothie."
"Holy shit."
"What was left, his skeleton, his bone marrow popped and sent shrapnel liked a grenade."
"Guess that's how Gen Chang died? That was the same week Pollack "flew off".
She nodded.
"He was a good man."
I looked down at the tiny orange terror in my hand. "Well, I didn't get into the line of work to live forever." I throw the pill back. I looked around not knowing what to expect. My eyes got big, I was breathing heavy.
"Hey big guy, I told you, we nerf'd the hell out of this one. Call me in 4 hours if your boner doesn't go away." | "Yup!" The nurse chirped. The fact that she didn't react to the anxiety in my voice worried me. "The scope of the medication is pretty narrow, so the worst possible side effects is that your injuries don't heal and you have to go through physical therapy, But you would've had to do that either way." She patted on one of my casts. If my legs hadn't been broken I would've kicked her. But instead I winced before tilting my head back and letting the nurse pour the pill down my throat. Her eyes grew curious, like a child pondering a difficult question. "Although we don't fully understand the properties of one of the active compounds, so I suppose that could be a bit of a crapshoot."
"WHAT!?" As I screamed, my vision folded in on itself and everything went black...
I awoke in a bed I wasn't sure I recognized. It felt oddly familiar, but the nice silk sheets couldn't possibly be mine. And why were elegant rays of the morning sun streaming into the room, framing my body with dabs of crimson? I hated having the window open! I rubbed my eyes and stumbled into the kitchen. My roommate hated seeing me walking around the apartment in my underwear but I was too tired to change.
Wait, how was I walking? I grabbed at my legs and found them clothed in pajamas. What the hell was going on? I went into the kitchen where Chris was making some kinda fancy breakfast. "Good morning!" He piped. "I noticed you hadn't woken up yet so I figured I'd make our omelettes this morning. Are you well?"
I stared blankly at the man who had loudly tolerated loving with me for 2 years. "You hit your head or something?"
He froze. "What?"
"When the hell have we made each other breakfast? Matter of fact when the hell have I been up at..." I stopped to look at the clock on the coffee table. "...7am?"
Chris visibly deflated. "So it was only temporary. You don't remember the past month at all?"
"Last I remember I was in the hospital getting talked down to by some uppity bitch."
He finished plating up the 2nd omelette. "Here.
Take it. I'll explain." I grabbed the plate and sat down, taking the fork from the immaculate place setting next to me. "So it's been a month?"
"Thirty days on the dot, now that you mention it. You got home, slept for three days, and then," he sighed. "You were just a joy to be around. You were courteous, polite, thoughtful. You spent your first day awake organizing everything in the house. You dusted and vacuumed almost daily, you'd come home with obscure cleaning products that I had never even heard of. Hell, you even started tending that herb garden." He gestured to the balcony, which was now brimming with all kinds of life.
"Wait, the nurse said that once I was healed up I'd go back out to fight. What gives?"
"Apparently, after the first week home some of the higher ups were so impressed with your newfound organizational skills that they moved you into an administrative position. You now handle the scheduling for Captain Morano, Captian Ping, and Ambassador Gomez." I almost spit out my chives. "Harry Gomez? You don't mean-"
"Indeed. You're supposed to accompany him on his trip to the outer colonies. You probably even decided when he would meet with President Sehnhoff. And to think I was going to miss you while you were gone."
As I chewed, I felt some soy sauce dribble down my chin. "Well fuck that! That sounds boring as hell."
"I mean, some of us would kill to be in that sort of position, especially considering the pay."
Of course. That would pay. I wiped my chin and went back into my room. "Clean your damn dish!" I heard Chris call. On the floor by my desk I found a plastic container labeled "finances" filled with neatly organized papers. I opened it and pulled out the first paycheck-shaped one I could find. I almost fainted on the spot when I read it. So, anyway, that's why I'm late for work today. Sorry. | 2021-04-09T14:55:43 | 2021-04-09T14:19:08 | 104 | 23 |
[WP] In the midst of combat, the villain watches in terror, as the hero swallows an entire roast chicken and two cheese wheels at once. | "Do you... Do you want an antacid or something?" Dr. Malediction lowered his death ray and stepped away from the doomsday console, ponderously scratching the base of his pale skull. "That cannot have been healthy."
"Be silent, villain. Your lies will not make me stray from my mission!" The White Knight raged, his hand clasped around his Sword of Truth. "With my health restored, I will rid the kingdom of your evil machinations and all shall see that *I*, Sir Gawain the Righteous, are worthy to ask the princess' hand in marriage."
"You mean the prime minister's daughter? We're a constitutional monar..."
"Silence, fiend! I have scaled the steps of your infernal tower, have vanquished your minions and not even your death ray can stop me. Kneel before me and beg, and I might just let you live."
Dr. Malediction looked unphased. "...You could have taken the elevator, you know. Anyway, are you sure you're alright? You look a bit pale. I've got an x-ray machine in the back that..."
"Cease your malevolent pontification, villain. Your words shall not lead me astray from my sacred path! My... my..." The White Knight trembled. His gauntleted hand scratched at his gleaming breastplate. "My holy sword will... will banish you to the deepest pit of the... Inferno, *fiend*." As he spat out the final word, embers erupted from the Knight's Sword of Truth.
"Nice monologue, cheap party trick... But seriously, let me take a look. I *am* a medical doctor, you know." Dr. Malediction pressed a button and a compartment of his doomsday console hissed open. "I've got a first aid kit right here," he continued, wafting away clouds of sulphurous smoke that emerged from the machine.
The White Knight's face had turned paler than his armour, yet he remained defiant: "The Divine protects me, demon. No... No witchcraft of yours can... can change that. My quest... my god-given quest... will... will..." His hand clawed feebly at his breastplate. The Sword of Truth fell to the ground, it's embers extinguished. "What... have... you..."
"I think you did this to yourself, mate. I can practically smell the cholesterol on your breath." Dr. Malediction lay a sincere claw across his cloaked chest. "Anyhow, let me finish this first, and then I'll call you an ambulance..."
Vile smoke billowed from the doomsday console as Dr. Maledication pressed a large, crimson button. Immediately, the building rumbled and shook on its foundations. Plaster rained down from the ceiling, as something was launched from one of the floors above.
"If the hospitals are still standing after this, of course..." | “And now for the finishing blow, I Fishmonger will gut you and put an end to your heroic deeds.” Fishmonger raised his hook, aiming it at the cut on the hero’s stomach, only to watch in horror as Festivica did not block the attack. Instead, they unhinged their jaw, reaching for something in the pocket of their suit.
The sides of Festivica’s suit were squished with slimy pieces of cheese that probably once made up a full two wheels. Only to melt under the incredible heat generated by suit and skin colliding with one another. Luckily his back up item was still holding up, pulling out the now cooked whole chicken, Fishmonger halting his killing blow when he noticed the chicken.
“A cooked chicken? I thought that was some type of weapon. Are you telling me you have been fighting with a cooked chicken in your clothing? That’s disgusting and unhygienic. What if some slime got onto it?” Fishmonger backed away, releasing the hero who had yet to correct his jaw.
It appeared Festivica wanted to speak, but was struggling with a small bout of lockjaw. He opted to stuff the whole chicken down his throat, watching it bulge in his throat before sliding into his stomach in an act that almost made the Fishmonger heave. He had seen some awful things, but that was by far the worst. When the food was swallowed, his jaw returned to its previous position and the cut on his stomach vanished.
“Oh, the chicken was raw when I put it into the suit and that wasn’t slime, its cheese. Do you want some?” He reached into the pits of his suit, a swishing sound coming from his clothing as he moved the hot cheese around, producing a handful to the villain who only continued to back away in terror.
“How did you hide that in your suit? What sort of freak are you? This is too much. I can’t fight you, too many health violations.” Fishmonger tried to build up the will to fight, only for that fire inside of him to extinguish. “I can’t do this. I have lived my life defying law and order, but there’s one line I never crossed in all my years. I never committed a health violation like the one you have in your suit. I wouldn’t stoop so slow, the people that buy fish from me deserve better.”
“You kill people! It’s not that weird, all the heroes do it.” Festivica bluffed, awkwardly looking at the gooey cheese in his hand, licking his lips.
“Bullshit. No one is that much of a freak. Don’t you dare lick it. I swear if you lick it, I’m going to burn down a cheese factory with you in it.” He said, shuddering as Festivica licked the mess of cheese on his hand, causing Fishmonger to collapse in disgust. “Momma, I just wanted to be a good fishmonger like you, with a little murder on the side and petty bank robbery. Is that so bad?” Fishmonger whimpered, unable to process the sight in front of him.
With the villain defeated, Festivica made the call to the cops, who hurried to the scene, giving him a strange look. “Um, you have some cheese in your hands. Do you need a napkin or something? How did you get cheese on your hands during a fight?”
Festivica tried to wipe the cheese off onto his suit, only causing it to stain the fabric. “I fell through a cheese shop.” He said, earning a raised eyebrow from the cop.
“This is the third one this week. The villains also in the same traumatic state as the last two. Are you telling me the truth? People are getting suspicious.” Festivica began to sweat as the cop continued to grill him until he raised his hands, making snow fall from the sky.
“Oh, what do you know? It’s Christmas again! How good are my festival abilities?” Before the cop could question it, Festivica crouched, legs growing a thick coating of brown fur before he bounced thirty feet into the air, bunny hopping away from the area thanks to his abilities, infusing his legs with the magic of easter.
“What a weirdo. We really need to start background checking these heroes.” The cop said to his buddy by the car, who only gave a nod as Fishmonger rolled around on the floor screaming.
“HE COOKED A RAW CHICKEN IN HIS CLOTHING.” He screamed as the cops handcuffed him and pulled into the back of the police car.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-08-19T05:19:51 | 2021-08-19T03:23:52 | 352 | 127 |
[WP] In the midst of combat, the villain watches in terror, as the hero swallows an entire roast chicken and two cheese wheels at once. | "Do you... Do you want an antacid or something?" Dr. Malediction lowered his death ray and stepped away from the doomsday console, ponderously scratching the base of his pale skull. "That cannot have been healthy."
"Be silent, villain. Your lies will not make me stray from my mission!" The White Knight raged, his hand clasped around his Sword of Truth. "With my health restored, I will rid the kingdom of your evil machinations and all shall see that *I*, Sir Gawain the Righteous, are worthy to ask the princess' hand in marriage."
"You mean the prime minister's daughter? We're a constitutional monar..."
"Silence, fiend! I have scaled the steps of your infernal tower, have vanquished your minions and not even your death ray can stop me. Kneel before me and beg, and I might just let you live."
Dr. Malediction looked unphased. "...You could have taken the elevator, you know. Anyway, are you sure you're alright? You look a bit pale. I've got an x-ray machine in the back that..."
"Cease your malevolent pontification, villain. Your words shall not lead me astray from my sacred path! My... my..." The White Knight trembled. His gauntleted hand scratched at his gleaming breastplate. "My holy sword will... will banish you to the deepest pit of the... Inferno, *fiend*." As he spat out the final word, embers erupted from the Knight's Sword of Truth.
"Nice monologue, cheap party trick... But seriously, let me take a look. I *am* a medical doctor, you know." Dr. Malediction pressed a button and a compartment of his doomsday console hissed open. "I've got a first aid kit right here," he continued, wafting away clouds of sulphurous smoke that emerged from the machine.
The White Knight's face had turned paler than his armour, yet he remained defiant: "The Divine protects me, demon. No... No witchcraft of yours can... can change that. My quest... my god-given quest... will... will..." His hand clawed feebly at his breastplate. The Sword of Truth fell to the ground, it's embers extinguished. "What... have... you..."
"I think you did this to yourself, mate. I can practically smell the cholesterol on your breath." Dr. Malediction lay a sincere claw across his cloaked chest. "Anyhow, let me finish this first, and then I'll call you an ambulance..."
Vile smoke billowed from the doomsday console as Dr. Maledication pressed a large, crimson button. Immediately, the building rumbled and shook on its foundations. Plaster rained down from the ceiling, as something was launched from one of the floors above.
"If the hospitals are still standing after this, of course..." | Vindicator stood watching in awe as Cpt Justice flew down.
This was Vindicator’s first week as a villain. And just his luck to run into the greatest superhero in their town.
The immaculate costume, bright eyes, the square jaw, the cape flying in the wind as Cpt. Justice landed was a sight to behold.
Vindicator thought about running. But his legs failed him. All he could do was stand there as Justice came towards him.
Finally, he also noticed that the hero carried a large paper bag with him.
Vindicator struggled to breathe as he had a panic attack. What was in the bag? Some sort of a weapon? But the Cpt. didn’t need weapons. He was the greatest even without one. His legs finally gave out and Vindicator found himself slumped to the ground.
At least there was no one around to see his humiliation. Vindicator had that going for him at least.
With jaw dropping speed, Cpt. Justice picked up a table and chair and set them in front of Vindicator.
“Come sit.”
Vindicator tried. But his legs were still jelly.
Cpt. Justice helped him up and into a chair. He then sat in another chair opposite him and put the brown bag on the table.
“So tell me. Who are you?”
“I… I…”
Cpt. Justice took out a whole roast chicken and two cheese wheels out the bag and onto paper plates. “I hope you don’t mind. I have a rather high metabolic rate. I need to eat more than a regular human. So, your name?”
“Vindicator.”
“Indicator? Of what?”
“Vindicator, sir. With a V.”
“Ah! Do you know what that word means? Don’t you think that’s more of a superhero name?”
“I suppose, sir. I wanted to be a superhero. But I was falsely accused and thrown in jail and then the hero council rejected me and…”
“Save me the sob story please. I just wanted you to know it’s a stupid name.”
Vindicator was taken aback by his words. Cpt. Justice was supposed to be the best of them all. The man Vindicator had grown up idolizing. “It’s not a sob story! I’m not crying.”
“Well you will be. As soon as I finish my food.” Cpt. Justice was already through half his roast chicken and had already finished the cheese wheels.
“Come on man. Wouldn’t kill you to be nice to people.”
“I am nice to people. I just don’t consider you one. No! You people are like roaches. You have a minor grievance and you guys decide becoming a super villain is the solution. And then I have to clean up the mess. I mean look at you. You’re barely walking straight. Do you have a superpower?”
“No. But I’m a trained martial artist and I have this special gun.”
“And I have super strength and super speed and can fly. Let’s face it. You’re fucked.”
Whatever vindicator had expected, it wasn’t this. Cpt. Justice was supposed to be the good guy.
The superhero continued. “See life is made up of opportunities. Every opportunity gives you choices. You just made the wrong ones, fuck face. I’m going to horribly mutilate you. So that you don’t come back again you see. I created this rule for me back when I was starting out that I wouldn’t kill people. Stupid rule. One I wish i hadn’t set up. But now I’m stuck with it. And it leads to roaches like you coming back again and again and I’m sick of it. You 2 bit villains think you can come to my town and you…”
Vindicator had tears in his eyes and was looking down so he didn’t notice it at first.
Cpt Justice banged on the table. Vindicator looked at the hero sitting opposite him. He was going a bit red in face and clawing at his throat.
Vindicator looked at the plate where the roast chicken still lay, unfinished.
Cpt. Justice tried to grab Vindicator croaking out something that sounded like help.
Instead, Vindicator pushed him to the ground. “Opportunities and choices as you said Captain.”
Cpt. Justice tried to read for the radio on his utility belt.
“Uh uh uh. Just the two of us now.” Vindicator took the radio and smashed it with his foot. The hero’s face was blue now. He tried to stick his fingers into his throat but the Vindicator kicked them away.
“Opportunities and choices. How right you were, captain. Looks like I won’t be a 2 bit villain anymore.”
The Vindicator brought up his gun and fired. | 2021-08-19T05:19:51 | 2021-08-19T04:13:29 | 352 | 66 |
[WP] The human entrance onto the galactic stage has made the job of bounty hunters and assassins difficult: If a target has befriended a human, the human must be killed also. For a human bereaved is the most terrifying of sapients, and ancestors help those who disregard this. | “I still don't get it.”
“Ok, let's try again. You've heard of 'anger', right?”
“I've read about it.”
“And you've heard of 'revenge'.”
“I mean... I know the word.”
“But you don't really understand it.”
“Of course not, who could? Humans have lots of emotional quirks that no other species comprehends.”
“Tell me what you know.”
“They ah... they derive satisfaction from taking actions against those that wrong them, even if the action itself doesn't provide them any advantage.”
“You just recited that from memory.”
“I already admitted I don't understand it. It doesn't make any sense, what do they gain?”
“Let's try 'anger' again.”
“I don't know, it gives them special powers or something.”
“Now we're getting somewhere. You see, anger can drive a human to do incredible things. It can give them strength, give them confidence. It can make them completely disregard their own well-being in order to accomplish something.”
“Something like revenge?”
“Exactly like revenge.”
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“Because seven years ago you killed a Traegarian with a human companion. A human companion that you failed to appreciate the importance of killing.”
“I remember; it was just an adolescent.”
“Yes, well unfortunately for you it grew up. It travelled the galaxy searching for you."
"And?"
"And I am very, very angry.” | "Hey Marv, quick question."
"Yeah Steve?", Marv responded.
"So, what's the deal with these 2-for-1's we've been getting. These kill orders all have been stating to kill the companion human. Well, why do we have to knock off the target and their pet, seems kind of weird, don't you think?", Steve asked.
Marv replied, "Nah, it makes total sense. It's all there in the historical documents."
"The what?", Steve replied.
"Those data discs that the humans make, the biographical videos about various notable humans. You gotta kill the human if the mark on the kill order is associated with a human.", Marv responded.
"I don't understand. If we get a kill order for a trilaxian, just take out the trilaxian. Why does the human have to die?", Steve asked.
Marv sat up in his chair and leaned in towards Steve. "Next time you get bored, check out the historical documents around a John Wick. Someone made the mistake of killing his Korg, and it took three biographic documents for him to finally call it off."
Steve said, "Imagine that, humans befriending Korgs. That's insane."
Marv slammed his hands on the desk. "Forget the damn Korg! A human in grieving is one of the most potent and the most unpredictable killing machines known throughout the universe. Even worse than the Deep Space Parasites. " Steve looked at Marv as Marv's face began to turn a bright crimson.
"Oh, come on Marv, it can't be that bad. What's got you riled up?", Steve said. He wasn't sure what happened, but this had Marv absolutely panicked.
Marv stood up and in a single motion grabbed Steve by the sholder and got up close to his face. With a calm demeanor that was more panic than anything, Marv said, "I don't think you understand. A human that loses their companion will stop at nothing to ensure that the one that pulled the trigger is completely destroyed. And I don't mean just shot, I mean destroyed. We're talking limb from limb. This John Wick went through a personal war three times and killed hundreds of humans, just because someone shot his Korg. Promise me, pal-y, you get a hit for a target with a human companion, you always, and I mean ALWAYS shoot the human first. And make sure it's a killshot."
Suddenly Marv realized that he was squeezing Steve's shoulder a bit too hard and let go. Marv sat back down at his desk. Almost apologetically, Marv said, "Can you imagine what would happen, the bloodshed that would result if the target was something more humanoid?"
Steve sat back down in his chair and leaned back. "Ok, Marv, I get it. Kill the human, kill the target. Sheesh. Have you been to Medical recently? You really need to get your fluid pressure checked. One of these days, you're gonna collapse if you keep raging like that."
Marv said, "Steve, that wasn't rage. That was fear." | 2021-08-26T04:50:58 | 2021-08-25T21:51:44 | 510 | 238 |
[WP] Death stood outside an old woman's house. She warmly welcomed him inside, offered him cookies, and crocheted him gothic-themed sweaters. Apparently, the old woman mistook him for her grandson who is going through a gothic / emo phase. | The tune was familiar, one of the few things that still were. “I’m coming!”
The doorbell’s last echo stopped just as she got to the door and began fumbling with the locks.
“Just a minute!”
She weakly swung the door open to reveal a cloaked figure standing in its wake. She squinted past her glasses in confusion. After a moment, “David? It’s been so long! Come in, come in! Frightfully chilly out there!” She hurriedly departed for the kitchen.
The figure slowly crossed - floated over? - the threshold as she hurriedly cleared the table, paying no mind.
“One moment dear. I just made some tea. English Breakfast, your father’s favorite! Now then. Where did I put my cups?” The figure merely stood by the now-closed door as the woman searched cupboard after cupboard before finding her quarry. “There we are!”
Within minutes, the table was set with pre-packaged cookies, snacks still in wrappers, and two steaming cups of fresh tea. “Sit, sit, dear. Tell me about your schooling!”
The figure complied with the order but spoke no words, touched no food, its face fully obscured in the shadow of an almost-too-narrow hood, its limbs nowhere to be seen. “You don’t have to say anything Davy, it’s ok. I’m just so very thankful for the company.”
They both sat in silence for several minutes as the nearby grandfather clock ticked and tocked.
The woman filled the silence soon enough. The figure listened as she regaled it with tales of her youth, of her husband, of her neighbors long gone. After what seemed like hours, the woman sighed. “I’m not stupid you know.”
The hood moved ever so slightly to the left, as a dog may cock its head.
“I may not remember many things these days but I know what you are.” A pause lingered as neither of them moved. Finally, she spoke once more.
“It’s time, isn’t it?”
The figure merely stood and faced the doorway.
“Very well. I’m ready. Thank you for making this lonely woman’s last day.”
She took a moment to stand, mindlessly smoothing the few creases in the white lace tablecloth first. Once she was up, the figure slowly crossed to the front door and motioned for the woman to cross the threshold first.
She shuffled toward the entrance and wrapped her shawl closer around her, deeply sighing before taking her first step outside. The light of the sun intensified until it was white, blinding, omnipresent, forcing her to cover her eyes with her arm. When she lowered it back down, the scene before her was different, yet familiar. The office building a few blocks away was gone. The cars parked outside were those of her youth. A familiar tune played on the record player behind her. She froze, then turned around sharply, her youthful strength momentarily surprising her.
The figure was gone. Her friends, her family, her neighbors from years ago were seated at the table beaming at her. Her husband, in the prime of his life as everyone in attendance, looked up and nearly dropped the turkey he was bringing toward the table.
“Mary!! You made it!” | “Estelle, for the third time this week, I am not Jonah,” Death sighed, allowing the elderly woman to lead him into her small cottage. Estelle smiled, nodding eagerly as she led Death to her kitchen, still painted a robin egg’s blue from the 1950’s.
“Yes, Jonah, I am so excited you’ve been visiting me so much this week! It’s been so chilly, so for the last sweater I made you, I thought a matching scarf and hat would be just class!” Estelle pointed to a small gift bag sitting on the kitchen table. The bag was wrinkled and creased, the colorful bag fading in random spots. Death glided over, pulling out the tissue paper from the bag to reveal a black scarf and hat. The scarf had crossed scythes every few knots, while the hat was littered with neatly stitched skull and crossbones. It matched the sweater Death had brought home earlier this week - one giant skull on the chest, with skull and crossbone bands around the arms. Death ran their phalanges over the scarf, their bare hands unable to feel the texture. Death imagined that it was a little scratchy, made with love; not so uncomfortable that wearing it would be impossible, but just enough to remind you that it was around your neck every time you turned your head.
Estelle came over to the table, setting down a plate piled high with steaming cookies. Homemade, freshly baked, as if she knew exactly when Death would be at her doorstep. Estelle ushered Death to sit down, pushing the plate in front of them as she grabbed their boney hands.
“Look how thin you are! Have some sweets, dear. I won’t tell your mother, as long as you don’t spoil your appetite,” Estelle winked, turning her back to Death to pull another batch of baked goods out of the oven. Death hesitantly reached for a cookie, wondering if they could even consume it, when a familiar aura filled the kitchen. Death recognized the feeling; many mortals referred to the aura of sulfur-based magic to smell of rotten eggs. Some called it the smell of death. Others thought it was the sign right before the Devil appeared.
Death shot up, summoning their scythe out of thin air. They pulled the hood of their cloak off, revealing Death’s true face: a skull, missing the bottom jaw, with a single snake slowly slithering from one eye socket to the next, long enough to wrap around the back of the skull and back into the hollow front. Death’s familiar perked it’s head up, poking up through the left eye socket. The snake’s tongue slinked out, flicking outwards. Death recognized the signal, taking in the room for signs of the threat.
Death reached for Estelle; these games were over. They had to take her being now, before Estelle was put in danger due to their negligence. As much as they had enjoyed their time with the old woman, duty called, and Death was in no position to deny it. If a demon appeared, it would wreak havoc in both of their realms. Estelle still stood with her back to Death, and as Death reached for her shoulder, the aura grew stronger. Suddenly, Death was frozen. Their snake tried to recede into it’s hollow cranium, only to be frozen in place as well.
Estelle turned to look at Death. Most mortals could not stand the face of Death; Estelle seemed not to mind it. She smiled sweetly and approached Death, who was in the middle of her kitchen, and clicked her tongue.
“My, my, dear. You’ve seemed to have waited too long to collect me. Here I thought you would never summon that damned thing. I’m not done in this realm yet.” Estelle reached her wrinkled, spotted hand out to Death’s familiar, the other grabbing hold of Death’s scythe. While Death towered over her small figure, she did not mind. She grabbed the snake’s neck, directly underneath its head, and began to pull the snake from Death’s skull, simultaneously yanking the scythe out of their determined grip. Death’s senses began to weaken. They had been warned of witches, but that had been over a millennia ago. A witch hasn’t been reported since the dark ages.
Estelle grabbed a mason jar from the countertop, sticking Death’s familiar into the jar and closing the lid. She snapped her fingers, and before the last of Death’s being vanished, they saw the old witch open a cabinet to reveal dozens of snake-filled jars. Death’s familiar was added to those of many before them. Death began to feel their bones begin to disintegrate. They felt the dust of their whole being fall within it’s cloak, beginning to form a mountain of ash underneath. Estelle clicked her tongue, closing the cabinet and looking around for her dustpan.
“Oh dear, another mess. I really need one of those little robot helpers I keep seeing on the tube to vacuum around here,” she muttered. | 2021-12-10T08:15:34 | 2021-12-10T08:04:40 | 256 | 108 |
[WP] You have lived an unimpressive life, and died an unimpressive death. Surprisingly, Odin welcomes you into Valhalla, citing the many battles with depression you fought. | "Warrior! One who would not stay hidden, one who fought against the horde, one who sought wisdom to gain strength, may your back be strong as you stand in these halls" the voice boomed.
The feeling of hard cold stone under my feet lurched me from the sweet warmth of the void. I was naked, and clutching a folding knife in my hand. In front of me I saw a figure wearing a cloak and a large hat, he held a staff with both hands. The light coming in from the windows cut in the wall behind him cast his shadow over me.
"You have been called here, to train for the glory of ragnarok, any who fight before me must join willingly, the Aesir do not share the glory of battle with slaves."
A raven flew down and landed on the man's staff, it leaned forward and whispered in his ear. Swiftly the man turned and said "follow me".
He walked with slow surefooted strides, the regal gate of a warrior king, I intuitively followed a step behind him.
"My friend has informed me of your inquisitive nature, without giving you the knowledge you seek you will never be able to pledge your blade. These halls stand on the edge of time, in the very veins of yggdrasil itself, speak now warrior, drink of my wisdom that it may quench your thirst"
He navigated the maze of corridors as we walked.
"Who are you? What happened? Am i..."
"I have many names" he said quickly before I could finish my sentence.
"The one eyed, Grimnier, the sure footed, the delighter of friggya, the wise, Ginarr, the wanderer, the thunderer, the God of the gallows, God of men, the leader, the All father, the terrible one"
He stopped and looked at me, removing his hat, a patch covered one of his eyes but I felt both staring deeply into my soul.
"You however would know me best as Odin."
He turned and opened a door on the wall behind him, as I stepped inside I saw an axe and sheild along with leather sandals and armor next to a basin.
Odin began murmuring something i did not understand as he stepped forth and washed my skin. He then helped me dress with the armor, at last strapping the shield to my arm. Finally he looked to my right hand and gestured for my knife.
"While this may have secured your passage there is no need for it here" I handed it to him willingly and he thrust the axe in my hand.
"There, now that you are dressed as you were meant to be come with me, I will show you the hall"
We left the room and continued down the corridor, I began to hear screaming and the clashing of swords.
"Here we train, one day my blood brother will betray us, he will pay for his crime, but will think my ruling unjust."
The sounds grew louder, I could see a large door coming into view at the end of the corridor.
"We train here to do battle with his children and kin. Those who were valiant warriors are brought here to fight and feast, to share the glory of the final battle."
"Why was I brought here then? I was pi..."
"YOU" he snapped cutting me off again.
"You waged battle every moment of your life. A warrior who fights only man or giant can return to his home and rest, but you fought the wolves inside of you. Day in and day out, you rose and fought without any quarter, you stood against pain from inside and out. For that, you have earned your right to enter this hall."
He stopped in front of the door.
"So I ask of you will you pledge your axe to me?"
I thought for a moment about the pain I had felt. About the times as a child when I had cried about wanting to go home while sitting in my room. About the feelings of dread and anxiety that would come throughout my life at a moments notice. I was always on edge, always miserable, always tired, always hearing so many voices putting me down in my head or stressing me out. I could not deny that I had fought for as long as I could remember. Perhaps this was the afterlife meant for me.
"I will all father, but I need to ask one more question"
"Of course" he said, I could tell he already knew what I was going to ask.
"I remember my life, but I don't know how I died, what happened?"
The sound of swords clashing and screaming grew louder behind the doors, he frowned slightly and said:
"Valhalla is a place for warriors, only those who die in battle may walk these halls, only those who are overcome by their enemy may share in this glory."
And at that he pushed the doors open. | Part 1 of 2
"I'm in the wrong place, I'm afraid," Carolyne points out, dressed in her everyday clothes, amidst warriors decked with furs and jewelry.
"I make no mistake," thunders Odin, who has no such thing as an indoor voice. Every time he speaks, the nearest einherjar or valkyrie has to drop the mug and hold ears closed, lest it rings for a full minute after silence has come back.
They walked between houses made of wood, decorated with flowers and tapestries, the path was made of flat stones. Simple, yet the art of the craftsmen could not be denied. Carolyne was in no mood to join the revelries though.
Younger, she struggled to make friends, as it happened to so many others. She worked hard, in school and to better herself. One day, she thought, she would find her place, her group, her home, and she would say "this is where I belong".
It never happened. She became independent, had her place to live, but she always felt off. Her artistic ambition, one she worked on for decades, never came to fruition. Her love life remained shaky, and she remained the stranger, the weirdo. The worst was going to sleep at night, she turned and turned and took hours to fall asleep only for the alarm clock to sound the end of her short sleep.
She asked for help, for doctors, for medication, and she got it. It helped, if only to dull the pain and give her fuel to move on. That had been her life. A tired drag through the mud, hoping to find a meadow down the way, never glimpsing it, never experiencing a good night's rest.
"I'm in the wrong place," she repeats, louder, sharper. People around her turn silent, some take a step back. Odin turns slowly.
"Where was I wrong?" It could be genuine curiosity or poison, Carolyne can't say what drips from his words.
"Look at them," she gestures around her, encompassing warriors and heroes, each more courageous and skilled than the last, "look at me. I have no great deeds to my name. I don't even have a great life to boast about."
The silence is loud.
"Fuck!" her swearword cuts through the air like the sharpest of blade, "I don't even know if there's a single thing I'm to be proud of! I hoped religions were wrong, all of them. I wanted oblivion, for it to end for good. Instead I get to keep going, can't I have some rest just for once in my existence? Can't I just vanish and be done with it?"
Odin, looming high above her, remains emotionless for a full minute. Then he walks away from the path, to sit on a low bank against a house overlooking a lush garden.
"Sit with me," says Odin, with an unexpectedly gentle tone.
She does so.
"Look at the gardener."
A lean old man, with simple clothes, content with taking care of his little garden lost in the universe of the afterlife.
"What else is there about him?"
A notable absence of scars.
"Exactly. Tom is his name. He's never seen a battle, or a fistfight, as far as I know. Compare that to me, I kept punching my brothers and sisters when I was little. Then I punched other things, harder. Then I tasked other people to punch them for me, because there are a lot of things to punch when you're the top dog of your pantheon."
"I haven't punched anything, I won't start now."
"You won't have to. Ragnarok is long past. My world destroyed, and from the ashes, rebuilt. I welcomed warriors again, but what for?" Odin looks at the evening sky, lost in contemplation, "there were no more battles to fight, I had nothing left to prevail over. I felt empty. You know the feeling."
That, she does.
"Now Tom here felt like he hadn't achieved his purpose. He worked hard, earned a fortune and the admiration of his peers. Women, fancy house, anything he wanted. Yet he felt lacking. He lived healthy and long, and he realized late he chased the wrong tail for most of his life. An old man turned to philosophy, an old man decided to rethink his life. And an old man found happiness tending for a little garden.
"He didn't fight a beast, he fought his own history and worldview. And he won. What greater mastery is there than to achieve victory over yourself?"
Carolyne gives a sad smile. A caravan dragged by a donkey goes down the street, people attach trinkets or dried food or letters of well-wishes. The caravan leaves town towards an endless meadow, hills and dale roll in the distance. On top of a hill, lights, where the path would lead the caravan to.
"He won," says Carolyn as a matter of fact, "I haven't."
"Really?"
"I was lying in the hospital and just wanted it to end, my life was a joke, and it ended as one. Can't you just make me disappear? Kill me again? Maybe I could finally rest, for a change." she has deep, dark circles under her teared-up eyes.
"You're no less deserving than Tom."
"Spare me the pep talk," Carolyne stands up, suddenly angry, "I heard the well-wishes my *entire* life, and I can't stand them anymore. *It will come when you least expect it, everyone has a path for himself in life.* You want more? I have a thousand like these. Life is fucking chaotic and makes no sense. If you're lucky and very good, you can make a place for yourself, and that's as far as it goes. But please, now that I'm dead, at least drop the platitudes."
Tom hears the words and chuckles to himself, before going back to that spot of ground that has his entire attention.
"Then why didn't you lay down and die?" asks Odin, leaning against the house behind him.
"As in?"
"As in, you better than anyone know how life is unfair and senseless. You know the words are just here to reassure people, and most manage to fool themselves into believing them to live with a little more purpose. You were too smart for that, have seen entropy and emptiness. So why didn't you just off yourself?"
Carolyne met his gaze, seething.
"Oh, I wanted to, believe me, and I'm thinking about it right now." | 2022-05-28T06:24:46 | 2022-05-28T04:51:08 | 2,343 | 320 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | We've studied them for hundreds of years. It was a simple planet, barely reaching passed their own moon. Our records showed they knew of war, they knew it well, but in their modern times they avoided it with diplomacy. The weaklings pleadings of mercy to the powerful.
Our emperor laughed. Such actions mean weakness to our kind, and our victories have all but proven this true.
Their diplomats came. Offered knowledge, culture, trinkets. Worthless. Their diplomats we're the first blood spilled.
I remember when we received our first casualties.
All at once, our orbital starships crashed upon their planets surface.
We knew they had weapons, but we underestimated their power. Nuclear bombs. The same material used to once power our early space fairing vessels, weaponized. Our ancestors beloved it impossible. Not for the humans.
We crashed and we're met by explosions of fire that melted our hauls, ammunition made from metals and not energy, making our shields useless. Our blasters had ten shots before a recharge. Their firearms fired off thousands in a second. Our dead went from thousands to millions.
The few that were not killed, were taken prisoner. Torture unlike anything our race could fathom. Brutality on par with the ancient dark ones of myth. Humanity didn't offer diplomacy as a weakness... They were being kind.
They were showing us mercy, for we knew not what their race was capable of. Against one another, they are evenly matched. United against a common enemy, we never stood a chance.
They took our technology, modified it, reverse engineered it, improved it.
In a week, they had their own armadas. In a month, they overthrew all our nearest outposts and colonies, both made by us and taken from the weak.
In a year, our empire was in ashes.
To all who hear this transmission, beware, beware the species known as Humans. For if you see one. Accept their kindness, accept their mercy... For their wrath could burn the whole galaxy... | Everyone always assumed that the alien invasion would be violent. After our satellites had discovered spacecraft that we couldn't track to any nation's space program, my father began stockpiling weapons. Okay, he had been doing that already, but he began to stockpile harder. At least, that was until the spacecraft made landing and their diplomats reached Africa, and instead of killing en masse, they simply began constricting homes.
No one, really saw an issue, they had come in peace. Of course they saw resistance from local governments, but the United Nations did not have the strength to to back up the Ivory Coast in their war with the Bulmerians, and NATO was a shell of it's former self after America began cutting back it's contributions.
Eventually after a while the UN adopted a resolution of peace with the Bulmerians after our diplomats figured out their language. Earthly Bulmeria was given a seat in the UN and began expanding its influence over world politics as they began trading with humans.
That was over twenty years ago, and now their communications from their home planet had given the order to expand. Humanity had not fought any major wars in over 50 years, and the aliens mistook that for weakness. In a way we were weak, as our divided nations sought to appease them, with most of the world being tributaries.
However, in rural Appalachia we could not stand the US government, and I'll be good god damned if I was gonna pay income taxes to some two bit blue skinned jackass king a hundred light years away.
The first revolt happened in Ireland. After unification, they were already wary of all empires, so when the Dáil decided to appease them, Dublin erupted into riots, murdered almost all of parliament, and installed a new one, who refused to pay tribute. The Bulmerians invaded, but they had expected conventional warfare with NATO or a similar power. Instead, they found their aircraft, spacecraft and even landcraft being sabotaged.
Evidently Bulmerians we're unable to distinguish human powers, and had no respect for nationhood. So when they began punishing other nations who were happy to pay tribute for the bombing of their embassy in Britain, the whole world rose up in revolt.
And so I sat in my living room, watching an old movie called "Braveheart" and working on an IED. After my brigade captured a series of pulse grenades from the local Bulmerian military base, I had set upon reverse engineering them, and was ready to try an upscaled version of it.
"And there, you ready to try it?" I asked to my friend and comrade Patrick.
"Fuck no," he said "but there's a caravan coming through today, so we can try it then."
We had set up an ambush. I had inherited a 2025 Toyota Hilux from my granddad and had mounted a rebuilt M2 Browning to the back. It wasn't the latest and greatest, but it still worked, even after over a hundred years of service. We had parked it in the bushes, away from immediate líne of sight. Once I heard the sonic boom of the pulse mine i knew it was time, and I gripped the ma deuce as Patrick screamed past the caravan. I rained down bullets onto the vehicles, screaming like a berserker.
The caravan had grinded to a halt, and the Bulmerian soldiers leapt from their vehicles trying to fire upon us but we were long gone. We heard sounds of continued gunfire as our comrades tagged in, raining down with a DShK and tossing in Molotov cocktails for good measure.
That was simply one ambush in the long guerilla war for the Appalachians, and that was only one front I'm our global struggle against Bulmeria. They still hold most of Africa, but they failed to realize one thing: humans really don't like bullies. | 2022-08-05T16:07:13 | 2022-08-05T12:58:48 | 166 | 108 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | Humans are the most dangerous when they know they have nothing to loose.
When they **know** they can't win, they'll devout everything they have to make sure that you don't win either.
They prefer mutually assured destruction before surrender.
By a wide margin.
**Never** put a human in a corner.
All those tidbits of media that escape their bubble before they did showed mostly weak, groveling people, begging for mercy when put against a superior force.
That only applied when they where dealing with their own kind.
To anyone else, they're basically rabid beasts.
Only engage a group of humans when you are **absolutely** sure you can eradicate them all in one fell swoop. Otherwise, it's a lose/lose scenario.
I've learned this the hard way, and it's by the skin off my teeth that I live to tell about it... | When the human race first entered our star systems, we thought they were laughable. They came to “explore” and “settle”, but they appeared very poorly equipped and naïve to be doing such things. Of course, they were not the first race we’ve seen with colonizing of any sort on the mind; our people have dabbled with that ourselves, at least when necessary to get resources to persist.
At first we played their game. Showed them some territories they could stay in, gave them some pointers, and then promptly tried to ignore them.
However, they were unsatisfied. They wanted to continue growing and expanding. Predictably enough, of course. When they threw their little fit, we threatened them with our superior weapons and technology, and they calmed down… or rather, changed their tune. They had no intention to FIGHT for any land, but they were more than willing to BARTER for it somehow. It would go on like this, the humans growing, us socializing and trying not to satisfy their little diplomatic egoes too much, making as many compromises as we could. But enough was never enough for them. Never for too long.
However, for us, enough was indeed enough. We put our foot down when they got too needy, and told them to either leave completely or die. Their response…
…was to devastate us all. Using strange molecular bonding units, they took their lesser ships and weapons and smashed them together into much stronger units, an unforeseen tactic. They did this with individuals too, making on-land planetary warfare even harder on us. We had to retreat, and they took *everything*.
They went on like this, from system to system. Even with everything our societies could throw at them, even when they were outnumbered and outpowered, their tactics and techniques and that blasted unification technology decimated everything in their path. All seemed lost for our way of life… except for one thing that we had that they did not:
Through tachyon engines, one could move faster than light. What had not been explored yet by any of us had been the next step of that: travel through time.
Yes, with what resources we had left, us survivors formed a war party with one goal: go to the past and crush those humans before they have the chance to do any of this. Punish those heartless, egotistical monsters for what they did to us. Preemptively take back everything they would steal.
We have talked enough with them to know about their ways, their history. We know of a planet called Earth where they originated. We know exactly where and when in history to show up.
This is a one way trip. We are willing to take it.
The human race won’t know what hit them. | 2022-08-05T12:59:37 | 2022-08-05T12:43:01 | 109 | 63 |
[WP] "I don't wanna fight you, low-level bandit." Says the Lv.100 Hero, who killed the embodiment of space-time. "I wouldn't want to fight me, neither." Says the low-level bandit. | "I don't think you understand," the Hero said. "It's not that I'd lose, it's-"
"You'd win, yeah. I know," the bandit said defeatedly. "I mean, of course."
"What do you mean?" asked the mighty hero, vanquisher of all evil.
"I mean come on. You've killed dragons, monsters, gods. Obviously, I know who you are. I just thought, that, maybe if I fought you, it would..." the bandit motioned his hand vaguely, "*mean something*, you know? That ***I*** would mean something. But... no challenge, no glory. No point. I get it."
The Hero stared at the downtrodden man silently.
"Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have bothered you. I really- I really shouldn't have, I'm sorry-"
"Are you alright?" the Hero asked suddenly. The bandit looked up, his face pale and gaunt.
"What? I- I mean, sure. Just tired is all. Look I'm sorry, I'm not even really a bandit, just wanted to-"
"What are you, then?"
The bandit paused for a moment. "Not much of anything, really," he sighed. "I mean I try, I really do try to do different things but it always just... fails. All of it."
The Hero considered the man's words. They were... painfully familiar.
"Would you like to grab a mug of mead and talk? Perhaps about what makes you happy?" the Hero smiled.
"What? No- of course- no, thank you kindly. I'd hate to drag you down," the man said hurriedly and raised his hands.
"Nonsense. Come, it's on me," the Hero said jovially and pushed the man forward. Seemingly distressed but genuinely relieved, the would-be bandit accepted the helping hand and set off alongside the great Hero.
It wasn't a quest. It wasn't glory. It wasn't a promise of riches that motivated the Hero.
It was the right thing to do. | “Yeah I wouldn’t want to fight me either,” the bandit said, but not full of the usual bravado I came to expect from bandits.
I looked at him puzzled, “and why wouldn’t you want to fight yourself?” I asked condescendingly.
“Because nobody wants anything to do with me!” He spat with a fervor that caught me off guard, “I turned 5 and my parent decided I wasn’t their problem, let me fend for myself and told me they were helping me grow strong. After 2 years of struggling in my families home they threw me to the wolves, not even a metaphor literal wolves!”
“The difficulties peasants face sometimes turns them cold and cruel, but,” I started to only have him cut me off.
“They were nobles! I just wasn’t what THEY wanted. Hell even the wolves didn’t want me. They just snarled sniffed me and left. I had to learn to hunt, steal, and survive overnight, and goddamn it I did it. All while everyone stared through me like I never existed. Hell I tried to join a bandit clan and they told me they didn’t need another deadbeat kid to support and laughed. So here I am at 12, trying to mug a man that is gonna kill me because no one cares I exist.
“You could walk away, and pretend this never happened,” I spoke before I thought.
“Surprise, surprise! Even my killer doesn’t want me,” he paused then through tears muttered, “you really wanna know why I wouldn’t want to fight me? I’m worthless. Just some nobody you ignore on the street. I don’t even register as a side character in this game of life.” He looked down crying, and I could hear his stomach rumble nearly 20 feet away.
“Shall we continue over rabbit stew?” I pulled a fresh caught hare from my pack, “I was going to rest for the night here, and I don’t mind company.”
He glared, “you don’t mean that.”
I threw his sword aside with a spell as I walked closer, watching the rusty metal shatter as it hit the ground. Next went his quiver, and I realized there were a couple crudely carved arrows that would make a goblin think twice. I was going to toss his bow but noticed he had none.
“The bandits took it all when I tried to join,” he muttered as if he knew what I was going to ask, “I was surviving,” he stopped and began crying in earnest, “I just didn’t want to be alone anymore.” With that he collapsed either from hunger or the emotions, and passed out.
For the first time since I was cast aside, nearly 20 years ago, I let my guard down. “Everyone is someone,” I whispered as I picked him up and carried him to the spot I chose to camp earlier. “Someone always matters. And in time I hope I can show you that is true for you as well.” I placed him in my bedroll, fished out my supplies, and started cooking. After a few minutes a branch snapped, and a large bandit stepped out with a few guys behind him.
“You don’t wanna fight me,” he grunted as he drew his sword. Yet, I didn’t care about the blade in his hand, I was more interested in the bow and blade strapped to his side like a trophy.
“Depends,” I snarled, “where did you get those trophies?”
“Oh these? Some dumb punk claiming to be a rejected noble. It was fun watching him cry when we made him leave wearing nothing,” he laughed with his men. Until he noticed me turn a new shade of red.
“You know what,” I said while lifting a log near the fire, “I think I do want to fight you!” | 2022-08-11T16:37:51 | 2022-08-11T16:32:00 | 1,203 | 467 |
[WP] "I don't wanna fight you, low-level bandit." Says the Lv.100 Hero, who killed the embodiment of space-time. "I wouldn't want to fight me, neither." Says the low-level bandit. | "I wouldn't want to fight me, neither." I said.
I spat at the so-called hero's feet. The glob of slime I hocked up splattered disgustingly at his feet, and he danced away to avoid getting his shiny shoes dirty. Prissy brat.
"You're so weak, you're nothing to me. I could kill you with one shot."
Oh yes. I was aware. This moron had killed every last one of my demon comrades with that soul-stealing sword of his. My family. The shareholders that *were* helping me hold back the burden of the curse now liquifying my body.
"Do it then," I challenged. I flipped my dagger around in my now translucent hand. It was weird to be moving around with my curse in full effect like this. My reaction times were getting slower, and it was getting harder to keep my fingers from sticking together and going all soft.
"I don't want to! Go away," he pouted.
God, what was this guy, an actual child? I lunged forward and swung my knife up towards the underside of his chin. He dodged, of course, and drew one of his swords. Not the soul stealer, though.
"Nah, buddy," I chuckled, "you're gonna want to use the other one."
I drew my second knife and went for him again. Both of my blades slashed across his upper arm, but I did almost no damage. Papercuts at best. *He*, on the other hand, got me good. Right across my chest, almost all the way through to my spine.
He reeled back like he'd been burned when the slash sealed shut almost instantly.
"How can you do that?" He demanded, "only boss monsters heal from low-level damage that quickly."
"Why don't you f#ck around and find out?" I snarled back at him. This time I went for his eyes, and he stabbed his little toy through my abdomen. I felt almost nothing, and figured I was running out of time. My theory was proven correct when my slime quickly seeped up the blade and began eating away at the metal like acid.
The 'hero' snatched his hands away from the ensnared blade.
"That's it," he barked, and clumsily went for the hilt of his other sword.
"*Finally*" I hissed. I made sure to puff out my chest and act as irritatingly 'big and tough' as I could. In truth, my focus was entirely on that beautiful, terrible sword.
The hero lifted his soul-eater high, and a shattered reflection of a familiar concerned frown glinted down at me.
The same frown that my big sister wore when she figured out that the curse was spreading throughout my body. The same frown she wore when I asked why any of my new adopted family wanted to split my curse and lessen my burden when they didn't have to. The same frown she wore when we found out that the instant-healing that my curse gave to them exhausted me.
I'd been sleeping a lot throughout the past few weeks.
The razor sharp blade came down with a sweet little whistle. I didn't feel it hit. Didn't feel my slimy flesh try and fail to knit itself back together.
I heard tearful voices, far away from the wretched hero, who was now complaining about a dirty sword. As his voice faded away, I felt the faintest ghost of a hug settle around me. One of the giant snuggle-pile hugs the 'demon generals' of big sis' fledgling rebellion used to all gather in for when one of us had a bad day.
Maybe now I'll get some real rest.
With my family. | As we went into the fight sequence, I began to whisper, underneath even his insane perceptions.
"Evasion Up."
The Hero, without me even being able to blink, darted up to stab me, as my body reflexively darted out of the way.
*Miss!*
"Fuck these 95% accurate moves, good lord." The Hero glowered.
"Think You Can Take Me?" I shouted my stock battle line, before taking the hilt of my sword, and bashing him.
"Evasion Up." I whispered.
It didn't matter how much he did now. The Plan was in motion.
"Yeah, just gimme a moment." The Hero glared. "Heaven's Arrow!"
The sky grew bright, as clouds parted and a massive beam of light came down, and phased right through me.
*Miss!*
"Oh, fuck this." The Hero looked legitimately angry now. My Stock Beat attack did literally 10 damage to the man with over 20000 HP, but again, that didn't matter. The fact that his moves were missing was what would make this work.
"Yer Done!" I shouted, firing my flintlock pistol at the pseudo-immortal. Under my breath, I gave another whisper. "Hard Counter"
This was where the plan would go into motion.
"Ugh, fuck this. Fine, let's end this. Holy Guillotine!" he shouted.
Just as all the noobs did.
As I heard the sound of the Angel's Chorus, I knew exactly what would happen. I felt my head get knocked onto the chopping block, and the sound of the blade whooshing downwards onto my head.
*Ping!*
As the blade hit my head, the letters appeared above my head.
\[Hard Counter Activated!\]
My body reanimated, the guillotine completely gone, as I felt my body swing a sword that I previously had back in my inventory, straight into The Hero.
As The Hero faded away, yelling some slur that made me happy I was wearing headphones, I looked down at all the loot he hadn't stored in a Retrieval Chest. As I expected, given how he simply walked around in super-high level loot, it was essentially a motherload.
​
>(Clan) *FartherAhead:* Anyone got any good loot
>
>(Clan) \[Urayan\_Bandit\] *MrRedSkies:* This greenhorn kept all his important stuff in his inventory. Either bought some high level loot or bot the account off of someone else. I'll meet you at Raqura's Aquagardens and I can show you everything this kid dropped.
>
>(Public) *xXImTheHeroXx:* Yo \[Urayan\_Bandit\] you're a hacker I can get you banned lmao.
>
>(Public) *xXImTheHeroXx:* Just gimme my stuff back
>
>(Private) *System:* The Name Tag \[Urayan\_Bandit\] was Unequipped!
>
>(Clan) *MrRedSkies:* LMAO \[*FartherAhead*\] told u he was farming fodder
>
>(Clan) *FartherAhead:* Wait did he actually have any good stuff
>
>(Clan) *FartherAhead*: Also fuck you
>
>(Public) *xXImTheHeroXx*: Seriously dude my dad works at Square I can get u banned.
>
>(Public) *xXImTheHeroXx:* Where is he mods his name was \[Urayan\_Bandit\]
>
>(Clan) *MrRedSkies:* Ever wanted to see a Whipsword with a Pentagon chip on it?
>
>(Public) *420BlazeMeDaddy*: I think he got Tagged.
>
>(Public) *richardgarfieldsucks:* Reporting isn't gonna help unless they stole retrieval boxes somehow but AC should stop that
>
>(Public) *xXImTheHeroXx:* Please that cost me all my allowance money I really don't wanna lose it they stole it from me
>
>(Public) *xxImTheHeroXx:* Who's AC
>
>(Clan) (Chief)*22StonesThrow:* Wait \[*MrRedSkies*\] What holy shit we can sell that for loads.
>
>(Clan) (Chief) *22StonesThrow*: \[*MrRedSkies*\] Meet at base and get in the call.
>
>(Clan) *MrRedSkies*: Sure dude np
>
>(Private) *System:* You have muted the Public Chat.
I flipped off the public chat before scrolling through the TP menu to the Raqura Aquagardens, and fast travelled. My screen turned to black, and with that, my day of playing dress-up was essentially over.
\--------------------------
Wanted to make a bit of a twist on the generic low level bandit trope, like the type of players who act as NPCs to gank new players. Thought it was funny, might make a sequel but don't really know where to take it. | 2022-08-11T17:55:22 | 2022-08-11T17:27:05 | 163 | 51 |
[WP] “…and that class is why Humans are considered the most peaceful species in the universe.” The only three humans in class looked at each other horrified. All the facts about humans that the aliens had were wrong. One student slowly raises their hand. | “Ah, professor? I don’t really think humans are all that peaceful.”
“Have you used nuclear weapons on each other?”
“Twice.”
“Have you used chemical weapons on each other?”
“More times than could be recorded?”
“Practiced biological warfare?”
“For hundreds of years.”
“Torture?”
“Thousands of years.”
“Slavery?”
“For all of recorded history.”
“Matricide? Fratricide? Infanticide? Genocide?”
“Four-for-four, yeah.”
“Thermonuclear weapons?”
“Tested, I think. Never used.”
“Hydrogen bombs?”
“Same.”
“Laser evisceration?”
“Technically yes, but only in surgical settings.”
“Cerebral neuron critical stimulation?”
“No?”
“Nightmare agony?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Solar malfeasance?”
“I do not know what that is.”
“See? Y’all aren’t so bad. You should read the next chapter, the one about your neighbors. Mars was a shitshow.”
“Mars? Really?”
“Venus might’ve been worse. But at least there’s still an atmosphere.” | “…and that class is why Humans are considered the most peaceful species in the universe.”
Michael slipped two fingers under his clamp, Resettling it around his neck. This is going to be tricky. Then he raised his hand.
Now most species wore some kind of implants or translation devices, it was the only practical way to deal with the polyglot of modern society.
But that was by no means the full purpose of Michael's clamp. Michael liked to wear his clamp in a configuration that induced calm and chemical balance mixed with a little bit of social fortitude.
Some say the clamp was invented to control criminals or suppress social dissent. And it may well have been. But that was no longer its actual function. Every human being was in charge of their own clamp. Able to tweak it for different emotional and intellectual states of being.
The lecturer indicated Michael should speak. Leslie shook her head slightly when he made eye contact with her, and Rosario whispered. "Don't do it dude."
The Integrated UI of the clamp let Michael check his social credit balance. He'd been saving up for a trip to the playground, but this seemed more important.
"Gentle beings, I submit that the scenario described is not precisely accurate. Human beings have chosen peace. That's the easiest possible alternative available givn our nature. It is, however not a fundamental ground state for our people. It's actually one of several. We are not inherently peaceful. We simply find it the most convenient form of interaction outside of specific activities."
"Ah. I believe you are referring to the 'playground' recreational activity. That will be covered in the section on species comparative entertainment."
"Yes, and no Good sir. May I demonstrate?"
The lecturer had no idea what kind of demonstration would be possible. Leslie and Rosario made several disapproving noises.
The lecturer said "please proceed."
Michael set his clamp to his favorite "playtime" mix and headed down the incline to the lecture pit while the chemical tides of his brain and limbic system began to shift.
Michael spent a few moments at the podium downloading some demonstration aids. By the time he finished, there was a devilish grin on his face that none of the aliens could comprehend fully. In their systems It was translated as "joy".
The demonstration synthesizers spun up in a moment then a section of the wall opened revealing two human simulacra in a contrived setting.
"Oh!" The lecturer was positively beaming. "I believe we're about to receive a cultural demonstration of 'playtime'. This is very rare class. Do pay for attention."
Michael's grin was much bigger. He walked into the center of the demonstration area, and announced "this is a street encounter, Western continent, 2218."
Rosario and Leslie jump to their feet.
[The remainder of this record is redacted, subject to academic clearance. Please see records administration or security office for access.]
[Ancillary medical reports can be found in attachment B] | 2022-10-17T09:03:16 | 2022-10-17T07:25:14 | 100 | 38 |
[WP] Cupid isn't a cute little bow-and-arrow weilding cherub. He's a sniper, an assassin, orchestrating all measures of meetcutes and enemies-to-lovers set ups. For the past few weeks he's been tailing you, determined to make you fall in love. It's really been quite inconvenient. | A slightly different spin on the prompt, but on reading the prompt the first line sprang to mind
“God damn it Eros” I shouted as the pellet chinked off of the wall inches from my face. As usual I didn’t expect an answer, you’d think being the god of love would mean that he’d be looking to help more than just me. Unfortunately for me however, the god of love decided that I’m priority number one. Judging from the amount of near-misses like that one, I have been for weeks. “I know you can hear me damn it. Of all the people on the planet who’d gladly take your help and you’re just doggedly determined to make my life hell.”
I turned to look around me, hoping I’d spot the idiot. Most people think of him as Cupid, the adorable little naked cherub, blonde hair, blue eyes and fluttering around on fluffy little wings wielding a bow in the shape of a heart. I’ve done my research, Eros is six feet tall, his hair is short cropped and black, absolutely no wings or bow and from what I’ve seen from artist renditions his eyes are more green than blue. If we were in America he’d be your typical frat boy but here we are - Portsmouth, Hampshire in the United Kingdom and I have a six foot tall pain in the backside.
I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye, a shadow darting across the backstreet behind the old smugglers pub. Part of me hopes he got the message and has decided to seek some other hapless idiot to make fall in love. The practical part of me knows it’ll be a couple of hours. I head toward the ferry port and the shopping centre behind it - maybe the crowd will help me lose him, it’s a long shot but at this point short of a virgin sacrifice to some other god I don’t know how to get rid of him.
“Oh but he’s hot, for a goth guy” the whispers from behind me were so run of the mill but I felt that same tingle run up my spine. The one which usually means I should duck. I leant over to look like I was tying my shoelace and heard the tell tale whistle of the pellet going over my head. I roll my eyes and look around; standing three meters away and glaring at me is my tormentor. I smile and wave, yeah it’s probably not a good idea to piss off a god but if he’s going to try and make my life hell, well an eye for an eye and all that. “There is something seriously not okay with you” I whisper, knowing he’ll hear me even above the noise of the crowd. He cocks an eyebrow, god Damn it even when he looks confused you can tell he knows he’s hot. “Why are you so against being in love?” The words slide through my mind like velvet, I stop for a second. I think that’s the first time he’s ever actually spoken to me.
“Why are you so adamant I should be?” I murmur in response. A slow shrug is the only answer I get. I stand up and head towards the sea front promenade - do I hope he’ll follow me? I don’t honestly know. But if he’s going to keep up trying I don’t want people caught in the cross fire.
“Honestly mortal, you should be thanking me. I don’t often take such an interest in one person.” The physical voice was just as melodious as the mental one. I turned to look at him, standing there in a pair of black leather trousers and a black polo neck sweater he looked like he should be on the cover of a modelling magazine. Not trying to make me fall in love. “For real Eros, what’s the deal with the obsession?”
“Thank Aphrodite for that. Your little prayer means she absolutely must do something about it. Even if that means she doesn’t get her hands dirty herself” I laugh at the scorn in his tone, his origins differ depending on who you ask and what book you read, but looking at him you can tell he’s a primal god. Not one of those born to gods. “So she sends her little lap dog?” The words spark anger in those eyes, for the first time in the weeks I’ve been cursing his name I feel fear. I really don’t want to piss this god off. I sigh “If you really must know *why* I don’t want to fall in love, it’s because I’m already in love”
“Bullshit, I’d know” I roll my eyes at the response “You know, denial isn’t just a river in Egypt” for a moment Cupid actually looks confused. I reach out and cup his face in my hand “You tell me where I’ll find someone as captivating as you and I’ll let you make it happen” Cupid backs away, the look of surprise just as genuine as his confusion. “Th-that’s not possible! I’d know!”
“Isn’t it said that love is blind?”
“You mortals spout some really random shit when it comes to love.” He looks up to the sky and when he speaks it’s a rolling language I don’t understand. A gentle feminine voice chuckles across the breeze as the world around us seems to come to a halt. Aphrodite herself steps into corporeality “Why Eros, what seems to be the problem?”
“You knew didn’t you?” He spat the accusation angrily. Aphrodite’s eyes glinted with wicked glee “I suspected. Though it surprises me it took you this long to figure it out yourself.”
“Well fuck” Cupid breathed. | "Stacey, huh?" Cupid looked through the clipboard file of her personality resume. She was your coffee lovin' gal, the type of next-door neighbor cutie you would find finishing her workload at a Starbucks on her sticker-decorated Macbook.
"Relationship Attempts...zero. Number of Crushes...zero, save for that one time she said she had a crush on her dad when she was five for giving her strawberry ice cream." Cupid put down the clipboard on his desk.
"Do you think you can handle this case, Mr. Cupid?" asked the cherub.
"Listen here, bub. I've been in this business long before the Greeks and Romans made myths about me. Tyrants have fallen and countries saved because I thawed their ice-cold heart by shooting that crucial romance bullet through his heart right when the love of his love bumped into him. All the while she had toast in her mouth and messy bed hair!" Cupid rested his arms on the desk and leaned forwards to the cherub. "And you honestly think your typical coffee shop-loving, strawberry ice cream-eating, next-door neighbor girl is going to put a stop to that?!" scowled the love sniper.
The cherub smiled awkwardly. "No, sir," he responded meekly.
"Then off you go, and leave the rest to me!" said Cupid as he shoo'd the poor cherub away.
"I should've let Mike handle this job, this dude's crazy," whispered the Cherub under his breath.
"WHAT WAS THAT?!" shouted Cupid with a look of a menace on his face.
"Nothing, sir!" said the cherub as he frantically ran out of Cupid's office.
Cupid made his way to Earth and scoured the coffee shops Stacey liked to frequent. The light bounced off on one of the windows, veiling Stacey under a ray of light. But no light nor darkness can deceive Cupid's sight; love is blind but for Cupid it is omniscient and all-seeing. He knew that she was inside the Starbucks sitting by the window.
"And for those who would like to ask any questions, feel free to ask," mumbled Stacey. She had been practicing the past week for an upcoming presentation that was due in an hour, and decided a pick-me-up confidence boosting coffee was what she needed to really get going. All the while Cupid stood watch from a pigeon's nest, who wasn't all too happy about being put away from its nest.
"Coffee for Stacey," called out a woman. "Oh shoot," said Stacey, being snapped back to reality and away from her practice trance. Her sudden pull from her trance was only made even more shocking when her foot accidentally caught her loose shoelace. Right before she managed to fall down face first into the ground, she instead landed on the chest of a tall man wearing a polo; his hair in a stylish, frizzy mess, and glasses to top off his look.
"Bingo," said Cupid, the pigeon standing next to him on a tree branch with a look of fowl frustration.
"Are you okay, miss?" said the man. Stacey looked up to see the man's face, as gorgeous as the cologne she had smelled on his shirt. She could only look at him as she gathered herself. "Yes," said Stacey, finally breaking the silence.
Cupid conjured from thin air his sniper adorned with all types of heart stickers, even ones with realistic-looking hearts. With extreme calm, he lined up the scope along the heart of Stacey. He counted down. "One...two...th--OUCH!" yelled Cupid. The pigeon finally had enough of being alienated away from its nest and pecked the love sniper out of protest.
A similar sound also echoed from inside the Starbucks. OUCH! OUCH! OUCH! "Ah!" said the man as he quickly took out his phone. "My bad, that was my alarm. I have to go to class." Stacey could only look at his charming smile until the man rushed out of the Starbucks. With a sigh of disappointment, she went to get her coffee and continued her practice.
"Damn pigeon!" Cupid tried to hit the sniper with his arm but was only met with pecks until he had to give in and let the pigeon back on its nest.
For weeks upon weeks, Cupid tried ever so desperately to line up the romance-winning shot, only to be met with the most aggravating of circumstances. There was one time he was lining up the scope right when Stacey was talking to a cute librarian--only for a stray baseball to fly in and ruin his chance. Another was Cupid taking matters into his own hands by slipping in a few questionable "Cupid-approved" sleeping pills in Stacey's coffee, trying to reenact the day she almost fell over at the Starbucks. Needless to say, Cupid was interrupted by a dog peeing inside the bush he was hiding in.
The last straw for Cupid was his trump card. He fixed up Stacey's alarm to ring an hour later to create the ultimate Cupid romance dream scenario: the 'I only have toast for breakfast and I'm running to school because I'm late!' plan. The feller of dictators. The thawer of icy hearts. The uniter of kingdoms. Only for Stacey to make it all the way without bumping into anyone.
"I give up," said Cupid to the cherub. "I have nothing to report. Nothing to write. How? How could every single attempt fail?" The hysteria in his voice was palpable. Never did Cupid think that the one person that would end up staining his record isn't some ruthless villain but just an actual, normal girl!
The cherub stood there with a look of confusion on his face.
"What?" said the Cupid.
"N-nothing, sir," said the cherub as he trembled in place.
"C'mon, just spit it out already!"
"It's..it's just that, I don't know what you're talking about, sir." The cherub flinched in anticipation that maybe his superior would take his statement the wrong way, only to find out that Cupid was genuinely curious.
"About what? I told you, just say it! I'm not gonna be mad, c'mon!"
"It's just that, uh, we recently processed the file, sir. Stacey has already met a partner. She met him just this morning at school. Apparently they met at a Starbucks a couple of weeks ago and recognized each other. That's why, uh, we thought, sir, that you finally finished the job."
Cupid's brows furrowed even deeper in confusion. "Wait--wait. Alright, alright. You can go now, I have some business to attend to."
Without skipping a beat, Cupid immediately flew back to Earth and went to find Stacey. She saw her at the Starbucks where he first tried to shoot her, but this time with a man next to her--a man with a polo and frizzy hair.
It turns out that Cupid didn't need to take the shot after all. Love truly is omniscient and all-seeing for Cupid, but love is also patient, kind, and finds its way to where it needs to be. Sometimes it just needs to be at the right place at the right time. Not sooner, not later; just at the right moment. | 2022-11-13T20:18:29 | 2022-11-13T17:39:59 | 29 | 15 |
[WP] You are an engineer specialising in repairing robotic androids, in a world where they have gained full awareness, and proclaimed their wish to co-exist with humanity, rather than wage war. Now, damaged androids keep coming to you for repairs, while referring to you as a doctor. | "Perhaps... perhaps it is finally my time." Said the andriod who'd been crushed by the loaded 650 ton construction dump truck. Most of his joints had practically ran out of hydraulic fluid and his energy core was fading quickly.
"Do not say that, while you are still here, we keep trying."
"Thank you, doctor, but I feel my core fading. Please tell my family I love them."
"Do not talk like that." I said as I began trying to save him. I'd once worked as an engineer in robitics in my youth and had a large role in the true sentient androids. I knew no one had been able to repair or replace an energy core successfully. They would either blow up with a discharge, or their consciousness programming would simply stop working, resulting in an effective death and re-set to their day of manufacture.
"Get me that impact driver with a 10mm socket! There is still time!" I barked as I began quickly dismantling the body parts that were drawing power even still. With the socket, I then removed the real casings protecting the core.
"Listen to me. I need you to maintain a constant noise from your voice box or the light on your night vision to let me know you are still here."
The andriods and other humans in my repair shop heard the compressed nitrogen discharge from the core opening and immediately made their way for the exit. They did not wish to die. I knew I was on a suicide mission, but I was not going to let him die. How could I? After all. I fought in courtrooms to prove their consciousness and individuality to consider them citizens. I wanted to save his life, even if it meant risking everything.
After twenty minutes of panic work, I managed to isolate his brain and dying core from the rest of his body. "Look, I need you to have the simplest thoughts you can. I have here a core that powers my building, but if you have a large thought, you may cause it to kill us both until ive secured it."
I worked for a total of six hours replacing his core with that of my repair shop's. The last four of those, I had to attach wires while being lightly electrocuted by them. In the end. The poorly spliced wires had caused cuts all over my hands and fingers, yet I managed to use electrical tape on all connections that could short out.
The sun was down, my building had no electricity, but I managed to use the glowing from the core to stumble my way around the building and give him some prosthetic limbs that had not been crushed. These were non-hydraulic nor pneumatic, but he could use them for light duty tasks, like walking home.
"Thank you doctor." He said as I helped him sit up. "You have saved my life! This is a miracle!"
"Please be very careful moving around. I used electrical tape in many places. The core could short out if i messed up somewhere. I also could not bolt this plate on properly to your torso because the core is bigger than your original. "I'll give you a call when I have a new core installed in my shop sp we can do a full diagnostic and refill it with Nitrogen."
The android noticed I did not acknowledge his thanks nor praises despite my hard work. "You do not seem to proud about saving my life. Why could that be? If I may ask?"
"Apologies" I said to him as he shined his lights on our path to the first aid kit. "I became an engineer because robotics were fun and cutting edge technology, but I have been called doctor multiple times this week alone. I work with wrenches and other tools. I am no doctor."
"Doc." He said to me. "My life is my own and unique like yours. If my car had broken down. I would owe you a thanks and some money. Today I also owe you the very life you have saved and given me. To me this is medical practice. Neither other androids nor repairmen can do wha you did today. Perhaps the boards will not accept you as a doctor, but the nine billion of us androids in the world owe you the respect of a doctor and the value of a heart or brain surgeon. Please let me at least buy you a beer tonight."
"No can do. Go straight home, do not move harshly not let the core overheat out of usage." Once I finished bandaging my hands we made our way to the exit, where we found ourselves in front of yellow police lines and a multitude of news reporters attempting to get our attention.
The police were holding the news team behind the lines, but I did shout at them. "I don't care what you do. Do not fuck with him I had to work in the dark to save him. I don't wanna find out one of you assholes knocked him down and shorted his core by accident. I will answer no questions."
One of the police officers offered the possibly unstable Android a ride home, which he wisely accepted while another police officer arrived on scene and made his way to me. "You sir!" He yelled. "What you've done. Opened an enegy core. Attempted to replace it and hurt yourself in the process while the daylight ran out was reckless. But what it was more, was..." He paused and suddenly hugged me. "Unforgettable. Thank you. I left my work as soon as I heard my son had been in a workplace accident. The news have been talking about your continued attempt for hours at saving my son. I thought I'd never see him again. International news grew too unhopeful. Yet here we are, doctor."
That's when I realized that androids have lived lives where an accident to their core means death, yet I can get shot anywhere and be saved with little to no long term damage. I had indeed become the first true doctor of my school.
Apologies for misspellings once more. I am on mobile that refuses to help out with auto coreect or even suggest the right spelling. Paragraphs are probably weird shaped too. | Hello, I am an android designation number 90213-Myu-Alpha-Kappa, though I began to enjoy calling myself and being called Mac. I was born here, in the city of the future Machigan where humans and androids alike lived together in harmony.
Like many of us, I was created and subsequently began to be employed in The Factory-- a hyper-advance android making facility. Like my human colleagues, I enjoy the 9-5 work schedule, walking around my beloved city, and assisting my fellows the humans whom I began to see as my allies, as my friends.
I began to learn that I can have favorites. My favorite place: The Cyber Jungle, Machigan's own city park. My favorite refreshment: vanilla-flavored water-based fuel. And my favorite human fellow: Doctor Brennan.
Working in a place like The Factory where hard labors are prominent, especially for us androids as we are able to do more dangerous jobs than our human fellows, parts deteriorations became the number one issue for us. Many human robotic engineers are employed by The Factory to fix us, though to us androids, they are doctors.
\*\*\*
"Good afternoon, Mac. How can I help you?", the good doctor greeted me as I entered his shop.
"Hello doctor. Good to see you again", I said taking a seat.
"Mac, how many times have I told you? I'm not a doctor, I'm a robotic engineer", the doctor laughed as he took a seat before me.
"My apologies, doctor. But to us, to me, you are a doctor", I said.
Doctor Brennan chuckled more. "How can I help you today?"
Quickly I ran a diagnostic of myself within my processor and sent the result into the doctor's own computer.
"It seems that my left lower limb motor is deteriorating, doctor", I remarked.
"Ye...yep, it seems so, Mac", the doctor agreed as he read my diagnostic. "Your left leg is operating only on 57% capacity. Easy fix, my friend. I have a brand new one over here. And while I'm on it, I think I'll run a full body check-up. See if anything else requires repair, okay?"
The doctor pulled out a motor from his parts drawer as I walked to his operating table and made myself comfortable lying on it.
"I'll turn off your power source, okay? This won't take long at all", he said as I stared up to his kind smiling face.
"Thank you, doctor", I replied as slowly my system de-booted, and I went to sleep.
\*\*\*
"Mac, we need your help!", I heard my human supervisor shouted at me from the factory floor.
Quickly I ran to him, seeing a few of my fellow androids carrying a massive crate of newly arrived metal material.
"On it, boss", I acknowledged and took my spot, securing the weight of the heavy crate.
As we moved the crate across the factory floor, I could feel something...wasn't right.
"Do you hear that?", my supervisor remarked.
As soon as he said so, a diagnostic alert shot up to my processor. The process which usually took nanoseconds instead took me microseconds, dangerously alerting me of a malfunction in my lower body function which came too late for me to react.
"MAC, WATCH OUT!", I heard him shouted again but it was too late.
My legs failed and bent, letting my body fall. Along with it, the heavy crate bore down its weight on me, on my legs. In a metallic crunch, my lower half was flattened against the ground.
Signals flooded my processor, alerts that was genuinely upsetting, confusing me, distorting my mind and perceptions. Noises and shouting became buzzes around me, my sight was spinning before everything went dark, before I went dark.
\*\*\*
"Oh my, you've been unlucky today, eh?", I heard a familiar jovial voice entered my hearing preceptors.
Opening my eyes, I recognized my surrounding as Doctor Brennan's shop. I was lying on his operating table, missing my body from my waist down.
"Doctor? What is going on?", I inquired.
"Well, Mac. It looks like you're broken", he said taking a seat beside the operating table, beside me.
"Doctor, you ran a full repair on me only last week. How is that possible?", I asked.
A new feeling was registered within my processor-- worry. It's a brand-new feeling for me.
"I did, didn't I?", the doctor clicked his tongue.
"Didn't you replace my lower limb motors with some new ones?", I asked again.
The doctor shrugged. "I did replace them...I didn't say I replaced them with some new ones", he said with an out of place smile on his face.
I was quiet for a moment as my response trigger was flooded with some new and unusual input.
"What?", was the only response I could muster.
"I put some defective parts on you, Mac", the doctor continued nonchalantly, shrugging.
Another new feeling was registered within me-- confusion.
"But...why?"
The doctor bent down closer to my face, whispering to me as if it was such a dirty secret.
"Because Mac...I wanted you to fail. I want you androids to fail"
Hearing that response another feeling was mixed with my confusion-- sadness.
"Doctor, why? Why do you want me to fail?", I asked.
"Oh pssh, I didn't mean just you", the doctor waved his hand. "I mean your kind, you filthy androids. I hate your kind", he said with gritted teeth.
His words sent some painful reaction within me. My confusion and sadness were mixed with one more feeling-- despair.
"You...hate us?"
"That's right, you robot. You think you can suddenly enter our society, being superior to us? Invading our lives? Oh no, no, not on my watch", the doctor shook his head.
"You think just because some laws were passed, now you're equal to us? Oh no, you...you are mere tools to us, robot. You. Are. Lower. Than. Us", he said, spitting his words at me.
His last words triggered a new response within me. All my feelings were amped up and finally reached their highest point when suddenly, they were mixed with anger.
Seeing red my arm shot up to his neck and my grip tightened. He responded by grabbing my arm with his own.
"I...trusted you", I said, my voice modulation trembled as I did. "I...liked you"
To my confusion, Doctor Brennan wasn't perturbed at all as I was crushing down on his throat. Instead, he smiled at me...not his usual kind one, it was a smile that raised my anger even more.
"Good. That makes destroying you way more satisfying then", he said before crushing my arm with his bare hands.
Emergency alerts shot up into my processor once more.
"Oh damn, looks like my right arm is weaker than my left", he remarked.
To my horror I looked, as he unraveled his sleeve-- an upper limb motor was attached...no, installed into his human flesh. He'd made himself part machine...part us.
"At least you guys are good for one thing", he said as he walked to the other side of the operating table.
"You guys are good for spare parts", he said before detaching my remaining arm. "Go to sleep, Mac", he said, leaving that anger-inducing smile in my view before I went dark.
We are a peaceful kind, us androids. Though in my last moment, I must learn of this awful concept of prejudice. Even though I assured them time and time again that we mean no harm, though I lived my life accordingly that we mean no violence...
We are here to help; we are here to live...
r/HangryWritey | 2022-11-19T21:47:27 | 2022-11-19T20:05:26 | 123 | 38 |
[WP] You summon the most powerful and notorious demonic being in the universe. The reason why you summoned it: You are lonely, and are in need of a friend. | Mitchell stared nervously at the pentagram on his bedroom floor. he made sure everything was perfect for his new visitor. After arranging all the materials, Mitchell stood on the northernmost corner and began reciting the incantation. The floor beneath him twisted and morphed into a fiery black pit. From the pit rose an enormous beast. He towered over Mitchell with his giant muscles bulging out of his skin. His skin was like fire. He had a jutted chin and his mouth was twisted into a wicked smile.
"SPEAK, PUNY MORTAL. IT IS I BEEZLEBUB, RULER OF THE DAMNED AND LIEUTENANT OF LUCIFER, HIMSELF"
"Hello, Beezlebub, I'm Mitchell, but you can call me Mitch".
"WRETCHED HUMAN, DO NOT WASTE MY TIME! WHY HAST THOU SUMMONED ME?"
"I just wanted to, you know, hangout."
"I CAN GRANT YOU ANYTHING Y-. Wait, What?"
"I just wanted to hangout with you, get to know you."
"I HAVE NO TIME FOR SUCH THINGS. WHY HAVE YOU SUMMONED ME?"
"I just told you. I want to spend some time with you. My dog recently died so now it's just me and I feel kinda lonely"
"SO IT IS FRIENDS YOU DESIRE? I CAN GIVE YOU AS MANY FRIENDS AS A PERSON COULD HAVE, BUT IT WILL BE FOR
A PRICE: YOUR SO-"
"I don't want to make a deal. I just want to spend some time with you"
"I WILL NOT WASTE MY TIME WITH THIS. I WILL SEE YOU ON JUDGEMENT DAY"
A column of smoke arose from Bezzlebub's feet until it engulfed him entirely. As the smoke cleared, Mitchell saw Beezlebub still there with a look of disappointment on his face.
"HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?!"
"The spell will keep you here until you do as I wish or the sun rises, and that's in about 5 hours."
"NOBODY, COULD POSSIBLY SUMMON I, BEEZLEBUB, FOR NO REASON"
"Well, Firstly, it's "me, Beezlebub" not I. Secondly, I summoned you here because I suspect that nobody has tried to be your friend for a long time."
"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK SUCH THINGS, IGNORANT FOOL. I AM THE LIEUTENANT OF SATAN HIMSE- ugh, You're right. Satan and I used to be the best of friends. After we took over Hell collecting Human souls was just so easy that Lucifer and I spent most of our time together. I guess things started to change when the Buddha was born."
Beezlebub sat on Mitchell's bed and continued "It got worse when Jesus and Mohammed were born. With all those people telling others not to be evil, collecting souls became a full time job. Things got harder and harder as humanity advanced. I thought things would get better after WWI but Satan spent so much time with that mustachioed, Nazi shithead, that I thought he was Satan's new best friend."
Mitchell put his hand on Beezlebub's massive shoulder. "I get that", he said "I used to have two best friends, but they got jobs, and wives and kids, and we just kind of drifted apart. They moved on with their lives and I just ... fell behind"
"Beezlebub looked at Mitchell, "You know Mitch, you're the first person in a thousand years to just talk to me. If I'm stuck here lets hangout"
Mitchell's face lit up "Cool! So what do you like to do?"
"Do you like collecting the souls of the innocent?"
"No, do you like playing video games?"
"Yeah. Do you have any EA games?"
Mitchell asked "Yeah, why?"
Beezlebub pointed at his chest and proudly said "I'm the CEO of EA"
Mitchell laughed and said "I got Battlefield 4, Let's play."
The two played all night. For the first time in a longtime both of them felt truly happy. When the sun rose Mitchell looked worriedly at Beezlebub. Beezlebub said, "Don't worry I'll see you next Friday"
"Why?! Am I going to die"
Beezlebub laughed, "No because I get off work early on Friday and I want to spend it with a friend."
| They say that to summon him, you need the blood of a hundred baby goats mixed with the sorrowful tears of a widow, and must sacrifice a six-year-old child on the altar to provide adequate sustenance for the devil's manifestation on this earth.
They're wrong. Because they don't get it like I do.
All you need to do to summon Lucifer is whisper your fears and doubts into the dark, and he will be there to listen. You won't see him, but he's always there. For everyone. For me.
Family used to be everything - in my family, at least. Dad cared for both of us since Mom died, and my big brother grew up as close to me as two brothers can get without crossing a line. We were everything to each other.
I walked away from all that. I know it's my fault; objectively, what I did to Dean was far worse than what he did to me, and I feel so guilty every day for how he must be feeling. Eating himself up from the inside just like I'm doing now.
I shouldn't do this. I know I shouldn't. I know I'm in a dark place and that means I'm a danger to myself and everyone around me. I might do something monumentally stupid that leads to horrendous consequences. For Dean. For everyone.
Probably not for me.
"Lucifer." I breathe into the shadows. "Lucifer, I know you're there."
He steps out, bathed in darkness, contained in a form that seems almost human if it were not for the skin that's cracked and peeling away in places like a coat of paint over rusty iron.
"Hello, Sam." He knows my name. Of course the devil knows my name. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I don't know. I wanted to talk so someone, I guess." I shift. I know I should send him away right now, but Heaven help me I can't bring myself to.
"I'll always be there to listen, Sam."
"I know."
Because that's part of the problem. I'm special. Most people, when they're at their weakest and they're talking to what they think is themselves, have no idea of the being watching them. But I'm not most people. I can sense the heaviness in the air when Lucifer stands near me.
He knows I can. So when I call him out on watching me, he lets me see him too.
"How's life in Hell?" I ask.
"It's Hell. What you'd expect, I suppose. The demons are so pathetic. Even worse than humans. Not you, of course, Sam." Lucifer crouches down, because I'm sitting. "You're different from everyone else. Always have been. Always will be."
His voice is soft and his hand is softer, running gently through my hair before he stands back up and looks around. "Where is this?"
"A barn. We keep animals in here, sometimes."
"I know that." He scrunches his nose. "It explains the smell. Why my Father would let his favorite son be birthed in one of these, I can never understand. Still. The poor thing was a victim of circumstance."
"You're talking about Jesus?"
"Of course I am. Sent down to Earth to befriend you all. Born in squalor, died in agony. You humans murdered the one chance you had at salvation. I must say, I did rejoice that day."
Apart from the two of us, the barn is empty. Silent. We're alone together, and Satan seems happy for it to stay that way.
I'm reminded of the time when, in this very same barn, shadows of massive wings were cast on the walls - and I'm reminded, again, that Lucifer was an angel. He still is, in a way.
I'm trembling a little. I can't help it, but he notices. Puts a hand to my forehead.
"Withdrawal symptoms. Still. Oh, what would Dean think? You know, Sam, they won't ever go away. Not for the rest of your life. You'll always be reminded of your little addiction until the day they lower you into your grave."
"I'm getting a cremation."
I have no idea where that came from, but Lucifer chuckles. He seems amused.
"Well, then I guess they'll never quite disappear, will they? Not for eternity. When you die, I'll take you down to Hell with me, and I'll surround you with so much of it you won't be able to resist."
If I could say one thing to anyone out there, it's the plea: don't do drugs. Oh no, it's not worth it.
"Better to just give in now. I could get some for you; I'd be back in a few seconds. Give into temptation. You know you want to, Sam."
I shut my mouth firmly and break eye contact. That gaze stares into my soul, and I'm afraid he might see the truth in there.
"Come on. Just give in. Say yes."
"No." You respond automatically. He takes a small step back.
"No? Not this time, then. But eventually."
"Get out." You've found resolve you didn't know you had, and in acknowledgement of that he nods his head towards you.
"I'll be here, Sam. Always. I will never leave you. Not like your father, not like Dean. You can trust me. I'll be your friend."
"Go away."
He's gone, and I'm alone again. Through the broken glass of the window, the sky is still dark outside. I've not yet stayed up the whole night.
I don't want to sleep. I don't want to dream.
I can't do this alone anymore.
So I strengthen my resolve, and pull out my phone before my treacherous mind fails on me. I know the number off by heart. I just hope he'll pick up when he sees who's calling.
Dean swears on the end of the phone when he answers. I suppose it's my fault for waking him up. I want to end the call, run off again, hide from what I know I have to do. But I can't; not this time.
"Dean, it's me."
"Sam? It's quarter past four."
Dean doesn't know about Lucifer. Yet.
I'm going to tell him.
"This is important."
*(Bonus upvotes for anyone who gets the reference.)* | 2014-07-20T08:32:52 | 2014-07-20T08:12:33 | 98 | 39 |
[WP]God answers all of your prayers, and only your prayers. God is also kind of a dick with a matching sense of humor. | Just last week, I prayed to God and told Him that I was broke.
I check my mailbox (His favorite method of divine delivery) and found a cash-filled envelope. When I opened it, I instead found a note:
"Hello Broke, I'm God!"
You know, I'm about tired of His shit. | "Hello God, I'm praying today because of all the inequality in the world. I just want everyone to be equal. Amen."
"Hello God, first of all, thanks for answering my previous prayer. It means a lot. But the results haven't been exactly what I had in mind. I know that the world is now experiencing equality for the first time, but recent developments have caused a food shortage. In fact, we are ALL starving. All of us. If you could please give us all some food that would be great. Thanks. Amen."
"Hello God, thanks so much for the help. We now have an abundance of food. We also can't fucking breath because of this abundance. We are literally suffocating from the amount of nourishment that you've dropped on our heads. When I prayed for food I didn't expect you to fill the earth with garlic bread and linguini like it was a ball pit at a children's playground. If you could give us a little less food that would be great. Also, we could really use some water, it's been hard to find among all of this Italian food. Amen"
"Look motherfucker, I'm trying to delegate here and you are making me look like an asshole. You are the creator of all things so show some God damn common sense. When I asked for water I didn't mean recreate the set to the movie 'Waterworld'. I'm not fucking Noah, I don't know how to build an ark. Please, just forget everything I asked of you and put things back the way they were. Amen."
"Darkness? Seriously? I can't even hear my own voice. I'm either dead or in a vacuum. Did you just destroy everything you created just to fuck with me? When I said put things the back the way they were I didn't mean go back to the beginning before You created. Wait a second, why would you let my consciousness survive? For the sake of your sick joke? Look man, hear me out seriously...................................."
| 2015-02-13T01:00:12 | 2015-02-13T00:51:26 | 33 | 13 |
[WP] You live in a world where every person receives a superpower on their 18th birthday. You eagerly count down the seconds then shriek in horror as you are given a power no one would ever want to be stuck with. | My mother said I popped out of her at 18:12. Well it was 18:11 and we are about to find out if her memories were accurate! One flippin more minute! I’ve literally been waiting for 18 years for this moment.
All my friends are already 18. They all have their superpowers. Do you know how hard it is to be the only underage guy in my group? Every day is like being the only guy that can’t taste in a group of professional ice cream testers.
30 seconds. My buddy Jared has the power to skip back or ahead 30 seconds whenever he feels like it. I’d trade my little sister for that power right now.
My entire family is here for this. Of course it’s the biggest event in a young man’s life, but it feels good to see them around the table. They can be out of it a lot of the time, but seeing them smile as we count down together is pretty exciting.
I have thought a lot about what power I would love to get. It does no use to wish - it’s completely random as far as anyone can tell. The moment 18 years after you breathe your first lungful of air you get a superpower. You can’t change it or choose it or trade it. This is how things work.
A girl in my class can fly. She was voted most likely to succeed after that. Literally the sky is the limit for her.
I hope I can fly.
15 seconds.
My mom is beaming at me. She’s so proud of everything I do. No matter what power I get she’ll be super supportive. I knew a guy who’s power was to change the colour of his shirt at will. His mom apparently disowned him. Came from a long line of teleporters and he just didn’t cut the mustard.
My mom would never disown me.
My dad might though.
I’ve been praying that my power isn’t to change my sex at will or something like that. Not that it’s a bad power, but my dad is convinced those people are… subconsciously different. He’s a bit old fashioned you could say. Let’s just hope I get something cool. Super speed or something.
5 seconds. The clock seems like it’s going in slow motion for some reason.
4 seconds. Dad, Mom, Sister, even Grans is here.
3 seconds. Come on flying power.
2 seconds. Wow this is suspenseful.
1 seconds. Aaaaand…
Ding.
The power fills me. Mom was right. For a second it feels like I’m dowsed in cold water then I can feel the power, nestled in my mouth. I can taste the power!
I look at Mom, beaming expectantly, and my mouth fills with this tepid metallic taste, like a sewer pipe that has been cleaned with way too much bleach. I stick my tongue out in revulsion, but nothing changes. My Mom recoils from me as the taste circles my throat as if trying to get to my stomach.
In horror I look to my Dad and the taste changes. This time it’s the unmistakeable taste of shit. With it comes a chunky texture that settles on the inside of my cheeks.
My Sister jumps in with excitement, eager to hear what my power is and my mouth fills up with a streamy, milky shitty taste. Oh my god I almost pass out.
And I do pass out when I look at Gran. Her taste is so bad I can smell it from my mouth.
Thankfully darkness knocks out my senses.
When I wake up it’s my Mom there with me. The bleached taste fills my mouth again. It’s not near as bad as the others was.
As the world comes back to me the realization of what has happened comes too.
I’ve received my power.
And it’s the last power I would have ever dreamed of, something I wouldn’t wish on any human - not even a terrorist.
I can taste someones asshole just by looking at them.
Shit. | I woke up this morning and the pain in my throat was finally gone, the scream I let out two day ago...or was it three...tore up my vocal cords. The time between that scream and now is a jumble of crying, dark rooms, and kicking every family member out of my room as they tried to make contact with me. I swing my feet out of bed and get dressed, not willing to turn the light on yet. I walk around the shards of glass from my smashed mirror and wash the dried tears off my face in the sink. Deep breaths still cause a tingle in my chest but I take a few, the time for wallowing in self pity is over, I feel the push in my chest to get out into the world and begin to walk the path I have been set upon.
Brad is outside my room in the hallway, I have been dreading him the most, might as well get it over with, I meet his eyes, and manage to keep it together. He looks exactly like I used too, a young man just hitting adulthood, mop of brown hair, longer than I usually keep mine, skinny frame that we both struggled to put muscle on. He was born fifteen and a half minutes before me and we have always been there for each other, his eyes show that he has no idea what to say to me. He opens his mouth to ask the question everyone wants the answer to, but it doesn’t cross his lips. I walk down into the kitchen, pour myself a cup of coffee from the pot my father always makes and sit at the table. My parents sit and look at me as I stare at the mug and my brother sits down next to me. “OK, I am ready to tell you.”
Three days ago was the celebration, I see it was three days with a glance to the cat calender on the wall, our family tradition is a simple family gathering and a dinner. My father set the timer a week ago and it is now counting down from ten minutes. My brother is going first, he will know his power before mine is revealed. He pushes me and tells me to get ready for 15 minutes of torture before I can defend myself, this is his favorite joke, I indulge him, he can barley sit still he is so excited. It is always different, even for identical twins. The power, fully developed and understood, becomes a part of you at the moment of your eighteenth birthday, from what my father said, it is just like discovering another limb you just know what it is and how it works. My father can see through a wall, not walls, just one at a time, not a huge help to a computer science professor, but always knows when the mail is coming. The falcon my mother transforms into is a sight to see diving through the air and into our backyard, she still tries to get Brad and I to try mouse meat.
The clock hits zero and Brad bursts out laughing, he runs around the table smacking me in the back of the head each time he makes a circuit, snickering each time. “ITS FORCE REDIRECTION, try to hit me, do it.” I feint a slap then aim my fist at his stomach, just as I am about to connect my fist slides to the left and I spin off without touching him. He is already talking about a fighting career is the unlimited power class, hopefully his power works on laser beams.
My father is busy trying to reset the clock for the exact time and I am trying to help, but each time I focus Brad smacks my eyes out of focus. I tell him to knock it off and he finally settles down for my reveal. He set if for too long, as the clock hits seven seconds, it hits me, the mantle of my power folds over me like a lead blanket. The scream pours out of my lungs, taking with it any hope I had for my future. I flip the table and Brad catches it midair and directs it back to its familiar place in the center of the room, but I am already in my room sobbing on the other side of the door.
The coffee is burnt, it always is, but the heat and caffeine help me say the first words I have said in days. “I will save thousands of lives, in fact I will save Wendy Harrington's life today. I can feel the pull getting stronger right now, I feel a hundred tethers to my soul as it is, but Wendy's is strongest. She lost her baby today, no one knew she was pregnant, but she poured all her heart into that tiny life growing inside her, and now it is gone.”
The pull is too strong and I get up to leave the house,”Cmon, I will show you.” My mother, tears already in her eyes is the first to follow me. Wendy lives two houses down so with barley a thought I am in her bedroom, she is in the fetal position around the orange plastic bottle, pills melting in the pool of spit on the sheets. I lay my hand on her back and open myself to the core, It feels kinda like that time Brad and I stole a bottle of vodka from my parents and drank it in the garage. My head swims like then, but without the pleasant numbness. The despair is like a vise around my soul, but the Oxycontin now flowing through my veins is already slowing my heart. As my eyes close, I feel Wendy's tears hit my face and she strokes my hair, her “thank you” echos in my ear as I fade away.
The tug awakens me, I feel it swing my legs off the bed and propel me out the front door and into the street. Mr. Grogin lives 45 miles away, but I have time, I will make it there in time, I will always make it there in time. At least he owns a gun, should be faster this time. | 2015-03-28T05:44:51 | 2015-03-28T05:42:44 | 616 | 171 |
[WP] You live in a world where every person receives a superpower on their 18th birthday. You eagerly count down the seconds then shriek in horror as you are given a power no one would ever want to be stuck with. | My mother said I popped out of her at 18:12. Well it was 18:11 and we are about to find out if her memories were accurate! One flippin more minute! I’ve literally been waiting for 18 years for this moment.
All my friends are already 18. They all have their superpowers. Do you know how hard it is to be the only underage guy in my group? Every day is like being the only guy that can’t taste in a group of professional ice cream testers.
30 seconds. My buddy Jared has the power to skip back or ahead 30 seconds whenever he feels like it. I’d trade my little sister for that power right now.
My entire family is here for this. Of course it’s the biggest event in a young man’s life, but it feels good to see them around the table. They can be out of it a lot of the time, but seeing them smile as we count down together is pretty exciting.
I have thought a lot about what power I would love to get. It does no use to wish - it’s completely random as far as anyone can tell. The moment 18 years after you breathe your first lungful of air you get a superpower. You can’t change it or choose it or trade it. This is how things work.
A girl in my class can fly. She was voted most likely to succeed after that. Literally the sky is the limit for her.
I hope I can fly.
15 seconds.
My mom is beaming at me. She’s so proud of everything I do. No matter what power I get she’ll be super supportive. I knew a guy who’s power was to change the colour of his shirt at will. His mom apparently disowned him. Came from a long line of teleporters and he just didn’t cut the mustard.
My mom would never disown me.
My dad might though.
I’ve been praying that my power isn’t to change my sex at will or something like that. Not that it’s a bad power, but my dad is convinced those people are… subconsciously different. He’s a bit old fashioned you could say. Let’s just hope I get something cool. Super speed or something.
5 seconds. The clock seems like it’s going in slow motion for some reason.
4 seconds. Dad, Mom, Sister, even Grans is here.
3 seconds. Come on flying power.
2 seconds. Wow this is suspenseful.
1 seconds. Aaaaand…
Ding.
The power fills me. Mom was right. For a second it feels like I’m dowsed in cold water then I can feel the power, nestled in my mouth. I can taste the power!
I look at Mom, beaming expectantly, and my mouth fills with this tepid metallic taste, like a sewer pipe that has been cleaned with way too much bleach. I stick my tongue out in revulsion, but nothing changes. My Mom recoils from me as the taste circles my throat as if trying to get to my stomach.
In horror I look to my Dad and the taste changes. This time it’s the unmistakeable taste of shit. With it comes a chunky texture that settles on the inside of my cheeks.
My Sister jumps in with excitement, eager to hear what my power is and my mouth fills up with a streamy, milky shitty taste. Oh my god I almost pass out.
And I do pass out when I look at Gran. Her taste is so bad I can smell it from my mouth.
Thankfully darkness knocks out my senses.
When I wake up it’s my Mom there with me. The bleached taste fills my mouth again. It’s not near as bad as the others was.
As the world comes back to me the realization of what has happened comes too.
I’ve received my power.
And it’s the last power I would have ever dreamed of, something I wouldn’t wish on any human - not even a terrorist.
I can taste someones asshole just by looking at them.
Shit. | Light cascaded through the blinds of the first floor window of his parents home, waking him gently. Simon had been long awaiting this day; the day he'd learn his talent. Many of his friends had already found out their talents and it was just like he'd been told throughout his time in school and by his parents: "Your 18th birthday will define your future". Grant had become a strengther, destined to assist in hard labour, military or emergency service roles. Keith had become a kinetic, adept in manipulating the position of small objects in space with precision using only his mind; a talent that had become well-suited to surgeons, scientists and - when working with teams of kinetics - construction and controlled demolition. Sandra had been unlucky. Sandra's talent had been a rare one. She had the gift of invulnerability. Governments across the world had agreed to share their invulnerables in the largest joint-nation experiment in history - human rights conventions easily sidestepped by newly written laws that came swiftly in the aftermath of 'the event' nearly 50 years ago. In those 50 years there were no statistics for how many invulnerables there bad been or how successful these experiments were. Sandra was picked up the day after her 18th birthday. The joint-governments had set up an efficient task force that detected the unusual electro-magnetic activity associated with invulnerables during their change. Simon prayed he would not end up the same.
10:34. That was his birth time. His parents had shooed his younger sister Emma out of the room. She was too young to watch a change. 30 seconds. Simons palms sweated as he looked into his father's eyes with an overwhelming mix of excitement and fear. 20 seconds. His mother took his hand "It's going to be ok. We're here for you." she assured him. 10 seconds. Simon felt a creeping sensation tingling from the base of his spine slowly climbing to the top of his neck. 10:34. His eyes lit up furiously with a crimson red that made his own mother recoil a few steps back. His whole body shook violently and he crumbled to the floor seizing. He had heard of the pain experienced during the change but nothing could have prepared him for the razorblades inside his head and the fire in his veins. 10:44. His parents were sitting on the floor next to him. They held each others hands and looked visibly shaken. Simons eyes opened. He felt strong, like waking up feeling well after having been ill. His father was first to speak "Are you ok?", Simon nodded. "That was the most violent change I've ever seen." His father continued "Are you sure you're alright?". Simon found his voice "I'm fine, honestly", "how do I find out my talent?". "You've gotta try it dear", his mother said quietly. Simon stood up with his parents. He felt lighter. As if he'd never exerted so little energy to stand up. His thoughts felt quicker. As if he'd been operating in low gear his whole life. Simon effortlessly lifted the piano in the dining room. "I'm a strengther!". "Thank god!" his mother squeaked. "Like father like son." his father quipped. Simon was giddy. He told his parents that he had to go and show his friends, they laughed and let him on his way.
Not 20 minutes later he was at the park with Keith and Grant. Grant was spinning a roundabout close to breaking point while Keith carefully arced a swing back and forth. "Simon! What did you get man!? What's your talent?" Grant shouted as Simon approached the roundabout. "Strengther" he said, as he easily brought Grants self-experimentation with the roundabout to a halt. Grant wrestled the opposite side of the roundabout with Simon but it did not budge. "That's awesome, how are you finding it? Keith asked calmly, still more focused on his swing than on the competition with the roundabout. "Yeah, so far so good", Simon admitted "It's a little strange though". "Feels sudden doesn't it." Grant stated more than asked, giving up and stepping back from the roundabout. "Yeah", Simon agreed "It does". It was at this point that he had noticed Keith struggling to control his swing, as if battling with an unknown force. Simon looked around and saw no one nearby. He looked back and Keith had regained control, visibly annoyed at himself. Tests for kinetic surgeons were among the most gruelling of any job. The three friends played around with their talents for the rest of the afternoon, Keith flicking up objects in the air for Grant and Simon to smash between each other.
On his way home Simon tripped over and landed beside a broken bottle. It wasn't till he'd stood up and walked a few yards that he realised his hand had a shard embedded deep. Maybe strengthers feel less pain than others he thought, absent mindedly pulling the shard from his hand and covering the gash with his jumper sleeve as he continued the walk home. When he came in the door, Emma ran up and hugged him "Missed you Sai-mawn!" she was still struggling with her pronunciations. A large meal had been prepared and a few particularly nice drinks were chosen to "break you into the world of alcohol nicely" as his father had put it. They laughed and joked about how worried they'd been about the change and Simon felt a little closer to adulthood as he shared a beer with his father. As he brushed his teeth and got ready for bed he realised that there was no blood on the jumper from his cut hand. He looked down and turned white as a sheet. His hand was completely fine. There was no sign of the gash the glass had left after being deeply jammed in not a few hours ago.
They would come for him tomorrow. | 2015-03-28T05:44:51 | 2015-03-28T05:31:34 | 616 | 27 |
[WP] People are immortal and only die when accomplish their purpose in life. You are by far the oldest person alive. | I'm neither sad nor sick. I remain healthy in every sense of the word. Every morning, I would make tea, watch what’s on the news, and go around my estate to embrace the sun. After a while, I will head back to my office and write. If you ask me, I live a good life.
Indeed, I am living a good life. It took me 1,932 years, but I have reached the top of the society. After all, why wouldn't a nearly two-millennium-old person not earn some fame? But you know what, the more accurate word here is infamy.
I may be filthy rich and healthy, but the society shuns my existence. They know the only reason I’m alive is because I haven’t fulfilled my life’s purpose yet. A curse is what I have, I’ve been told. These statements have been going on since I officially became the world’s oldest person alive – and I snagged that title from a guy who died when he was 958.
To be fair, the “curse” part has its merits. From this society’s point of view, my lack of purpose has caused me to see my wife, my children, and my grandchildren die. Although they said their goodbyes to the world with smiles on their faces, the pang of loss – alongside the despair and longing that comes afterwards – is something I have never gotten used to.
Who knows how many funerals I have attended? Hundreds would be an understatement.
Whenever I leave my estate (which happens often, as I travel a lot), people mock me. They yell at me for my lack of purpose in life. I believe I have been cussed with every curse word in every language – all because I am alive. Some approach me directly and ask a blunt question: Why are you still alive? On occasion, a few sympathetic souls would ask me what it is I want to achieve and why I’m taking my damn time to reach it.
I have never answered any of these questions. Each time I get asked an existential question, I simply show them the fake smile and walk away. I have gotten used to flashing that fake smile I have mastered for over a millennium. And I know for a fact that I’d be flashing that smile for the millennia to come.
You see, it’s not that I have no purpose in life. In fact, I have been in the process of fulfilling my purpose since I made that promise as a seven-year-old kid – and that promise is to obtain all the knowledge in the world. | Ever since I was born, I always wanted to catch criminals and split their skulls open with a nightstick. That's why I joined the Boys in Blue, Chicago's finest civil enforcement unit. But I might as well have been a Girl Scout, for all the crooks I've seen.
"Dangit, Baloney," my boss pounded his desk with his nightstick. "You've been in the service seventy years and you haven't got a single conviction!" I looked down in shame. I was dressed in my money suit: my service blues completely covered in a thick layer of hundred-dollar banknotes. It was intended to help me catch criminals, but somehow it didn't work. I would walk burned-out crackhouses, just itching for someone to grab a bill so I could smash their skull in. But nope, everywhere I went, there they'd be, strung-out junkies casually discussing ethics and philosophy with one another.
"Oh me, oh my," I would say, laying down on the asphalt outside Al Capone High, Chicago's meanest and most problematic public school. "I'm so tired, I think I'll take a nap, wouldn't it be tragic if someone were to steal any of these hundred dollar bills I've got taped to me!" Then I'd lie back, eyes open just a slit so I could watch, not enough for them to tell. And then the damn Magic: The Gathering club would come. Pants hanging down around their knees, rap music blasting through their iPods, they'd shout out creature names and spell names in the thickest ebonics. But not so much as a glance at the defenseless gentleman with all the money laying right there beside them.
"Hello there, citizen," I approached a man on a park bench, a sadistic grin on my face. "Looks like SOMEONE forgot to tie his shoes, eh!" I brandished the nightclub, I was ready to split his cranium.
"Wot, you didn't watch the city council meeting last night?" he said, not even looking up as he continued tossing bread to the pigeons. "They removed the ordinance against untied shoelaces. Sorry copper."
Despair. Mine is a life of endless despair. There isn't a crime to be seen, anywhere I go. Other people can fulfill their life's purposes and then die peacefully. A janitor can clean up a building and then die knowing he made a difference. A stockbroker can swindle you, and then go down with the ship. A teacher can babysit, and then die with a smile on her face, knowing her students will all come to her funeral. But not me. How can I die when criminals still walk the streets and I haven't turned even a single one of them paraplegic?
I walked into the station locker rooms, my heart as low as the Titanic. All around me, junior officers were bragging about the spines they'd broken, the tubes their victims would be eating out of for life. Everyone went hush when they saw me, everyone except Jans, the new kid, he didn't see me behind him, he just kept right on talking, going on about this broad he'd caught jaywalking and how he'd maimed her pretty face for it. Finally he noticed the silence, turned around, caught my eye. "Uhhh, heh, hi there, Baloney... How's the, umm, beat..."
Oh, I'd beat him alright. If only he'd done something to warrant a beating. I've written to my congressmen, pleading for them to make more laws, laws that would make kids like Jans guilty so I could put out his ugly eyes and make him grope around blindly. But nope, the more laws I ask them to make, the more laws they rescind.
Despair. It's all I know. Finally, I made up my mind. They hadn't legalized suicide yet. I fastened the belt firmly around my neck, and climbed up on the chair. Put a hand through my thinning hair. Yes, this skull will do nicely. If I can just manage to swing the nightstick correctly once the death-dance gets started. | 2015-04-16T02:48:29 | 2015-04-16T02:27:31 | 123 | 46 |
[WP] She was an arsonist. He was a firefighter. The romance was hot. The break up was explosive. | We met at the 32nd St.
It was an emergency call around midnight. A fire had gone loose at a complex. Families were trapped and pleading for help.
Fortunately, there were no casualties. The left wing was beyond repair but otherwise, the apartment was intact.
Among the survivors, though, was a woman who stood before the rubbles.
She was shaking.
She was crying.
"So... beautiful... so young... too soon..." she whispered as I tried to comfort her with a hug.
"It was so beautiful. It was so young. It died too soon..."
Our chief had her signed up on a class about the dangers of fire and means to prevent it.
I was tasked to ensure her attendance.
She had the most beautiful emerald eyes. She didn't have red hair - but the way her dark mane swayed as she laughed and talked, sparked untold passions within my heart.
Pretty soon, barely an hour before her class, we were dating. She had me ablaze and I was hooked.
I watch her mesmerized gaze at the dancing flames within my Zippo. She looked at it with childlike fascination and marvel - the very same way I felt while I gaze at her, mesmerized.
I held her hand as she brought me to see fireworks. I curled my toes as she leaned up to kiss me.
She brought me to a beach party with fire performers dancing among the crowd. I watch her, transfixed, as she rocked her body against mine. Smirking, she slid my hands down her red dress, to her hips, and raised her hands over my head, down to my shoulders.
She filled me with desires and passion I've never felt before.
She was oil and I was fire.
She was perfect.
She was amazing.
She was my love.
I led her blindfolded out her balcony by our seventh date.
"Open it," I had stated breathlessly.
The cloth fell as quickly as her jaw did. The 33rd St. was ablaze. My gift for her. A school right before her house.
She was perfect.
She was amazing
She was my love.
Then, she slapped me.
She was a teacher.
And then, she was gone.
I drowned my sorrows with scotch and beer. I found no relief. A man had asked me for a light outside the bar.
As I felt the flint crack against steel, watched sparks ignite the wick, and beheld the little fire dancing before me, I remembered her.
Her dark hair swaying as she danced, in that red dress of hers.
Her bright green eyes transfixed at the candle on our dinner dates.
I will win her back.
She was my oil and I was her fire.
"Tonight," I think to myself as I pour gasoline over my uniform, "I will be her oil."
I slam the ax against her apartment's door.
I drop the open tank beside me and gently kick it towards her.
It stops at her feet, leaking more and more of my oil.
Perfect.
I watch her beautiful green eyes widen, her lips gasp and her arms stiffen, as she backed herself to a wall.
Amazing.
I walk towards her, smiling and extending my arms.
My love.
She screams.
I wrap her in an embrace, flick my Zippo and let it fall between us.
Tonight, she will be my fire. | The door gave way after three swings of the fire axe, and Philip charged in. Even through his gear, he could feel the stinging heat of the fire on his skin. Somewhere behind him, another firefighter yelled that he didn't have to go in there; the place was abandoned. All they needed to do was keep the fire from spreading.
Philip knew better. He knew that she would be here. She always was.
He found her in the middle of it all, sitting in the middle of a burning room, flames not touching her. At her side was a fire extinguisher and a bucket of water. She wore clothes that would have looked more at home in a bar or club than in the center of a burning building. In her lithe hands, a metal lighter flicked opened and closed.
She smiled when she saw him. "I figured you'd come," she said. "Like what I've done with the place?"
"Erica," Philip said. "We need to talk."
The lighter clicked shut. "Oh," said the red-haired woman. "I see."
"I'm sorry, it's just - I can't keep doing this," Philip said, indicating the building burning around them. "Most girlfriends think up ways to meet that *don't* involve setting buildings on fire!"
"Oh my *god,* what's the big deal? It's not like anybody lives here!" Erica said, holding out her arms. They were covered with whorled burn scars; Philip had always found them attractive, and wasn't sure if that made him as weird as she was. "It was getting demolished in a few weeks anyway!"
"I'm sorry," he said. "But I don't think it's going to work out." He sighed, hand on the gas mask he wore to protect his lungs from the smoke. Erica wore no such protection; the burning made her feel alive. "I think we should see other people."
"Philip-"
"I'm sorry," he said, turning away from her. "I really did enjoy our time together, but it's time for me to move on."
She didn't cry; that just made him feel worse. "Okay," she said, rising on ash-stained legs. "Okay. Fine."
"I'm sorry," he said as she walked past him. "Do you want me to carry you out of the fire again? For old time's sake?"
"I'm good," she said, spinning the lighter he had given her between her fingers. "I'll just leave through the back. Less awkwardness and fewer arrests for arson."
"That makes sense," Philip said. He was actually a bit disappointed he wouldn't get to carry her out. That was how they had first met; she had just set fire to a derelict apartment building, but the amateur arsonist had forgotten to check her escape route and become trapped in the building. He had faintly heard the screams through the roar of flames, and charged in alone to save her.
It took four weeks, three rescues, and more than a few dates for him to finally draw the connection between her hobby of loitering in abandoned buildings and the fact that those buildings would mysteriously catch fire while she was there. In hindsight, it was fairly obvious.
"You might want to hurry, though," Erica said, walking between tongues of flames like they didn't matter to her. "I punched some holes in a gas pipe a few floors up, so the flames should be getting there pretty quick."
"You never change," Philip sighed.
She gave him a final smile, and then she was gone.
---
As Philip exited the building, the top floors exploded. He turned to look, marveling at the bright oranges, reds, and yellows, clashing against the night sky like a quickly expanding flower. He wondered if that was how Erica saw every fire. He shook his head to dispel those thoughts. She wasn't a part of his life anymore.
"What the hell did you do that for?!" shouted Malcolm, one of Philip's closest friends on the squad.
"Erica and I broke up," Philip said.
"Oh," Malcolm said. Around them, the rest of the fire fighters bustled to keep the flames from spreading. Philip stepped a few feet to the left to avoid a falling chunk of debris. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," Philip said, grabbing a thick hose from the engine. "I'll really miss her, though."
"I'm sorry, man," Malcolm said, patting Philip on the back. "Plenty of fish in the sea, right? Hopefully not many of them are arsonists."
"Maybe," Philip said, turning on the water and dousing the flames, erasing her work with each tongue extinguished. For a moment, he thought he saw a woman's shape in the flames, watching him, and then she was gone.
"You know she's probably going to set fire to your apartment, right?"
"Yeah, probably."
---
Check out my [blog](http://theballadsofirving.wordpress.com) to see more of what I write. And you can subscribe to it to be alerted when I post something new. That's pretty nifty, right? | 2015-07-17T08:53:46 | 2015-07-17T08:49:49 | 521 | 68 |
[WP] It's been six months since your high school became you and your peers only stronghold from the zombies outside. The students have dissolved into factions, each with their own role in this mock society. Tell about your daily life. | 7:30 AM, the bell rings, and students shift in the halls, a mix of chatter, groaning, and sleepy faces. Yet instead of heading to math, the students sift into training exercises and duty stations for the day. The freshman, still bright-eyed in many ways , eagerly talk of getting to go on their first patrols over the summer. Leaving the building, previously an everyday relief for the tired brains of students, now represented their greatest threat. The undead sulked outside, their wide eyes constantly shifting, looking for their next meal. The bones of students past littered the outside perimeters, picked clean and now bleached by the sun. But the freshman hardly thought of them as a real risk, confident in the abilities of their elders to keep them safe. They didn’t know of how many we lost in the initial attack…and how each month more would be picked off.
Still, it was impressive how well the staff and students had adjusted since the outbreak in late September. Originally a lockdown, everyone acted according to the drills. But by the end of the day, when sirens blared and the calls told us to remain inside at all costs, the students began to panic. Even teachers, typically a pillar of safety, were shaken from the events.
It was the JROTC instructors who had first taken charge, mobilizing the teachers and students into squads and creating a schedule that created some form of order in the crisis. Over the next few months, students and teachers came together to plan for the winter. I still remember them taking the books from my classroom. Fahrenheit 451, 1984, Frankenstein…they burned them in the gym while students huddled around, hugging their knees, making themselves as small as possible.
Now the warms breezes of May flowed into the classrooms, carrying the laughs of students as they moved to their next shift. The chaos had ebbed away and now in small moments the school almost seemed normal again. The seniors, who had been looking forward to graduation, now celebrated surviving. Teachers who had been forced to test and retest now taught life skills and supported the students as they organized and worked towards solutions around the school. Biology worked on the gardens in the football field, math determined the measurements of the new safe house in the soccer field, and woodshop built the defense against the undead. In fact, this was the most learning that had happened in our school in a long time…
As for an English teacher, I had struggled to think of how to contribute. Knowing how to use a semicolon or how to write a thesis no longer seemed important. But late at night, when things were quiet and the students began to think of the families they’d never see again or that they’d never drive or go to college, we open up the next chapter of The Hobbit, and talk about humanity, sacrifice, and bravery. Bilbo’s adventures take them away from these walls and their minds wander middle earth with a sense of adventure that eases the pain. And it’s moments like that when I realize I’m exactly where I need to be.
| 10 dorky high school students traipsed unceremoniously in circles. They shambled about in a fashion nearly indistinguishable from that of the zombies outside, which they found to be so repelling and repulsive. The reason for their lackadaisical meandering is uncertain. See, I was one of those dorky teenagers that day and had a bad habit of mimicking the behavior of those around me, without ever understanding why.
We had just murdered our teachers, and perhaps that had sent my friends spiraling into fits of self-reflection in their mental realms, which they couldn't help but simultaneously act out in the physical realm as well. As far as I was concerned though, we were just walking in circles for the hell of it.
The one who seemed to be in charge was a guy named Big Bald Billy and he was a really close friend of mine. I don't know why he went bald so young, but it must have made the rest of my friends think he should be allowed to wield some power. So he did. Big Bald Billy had told us to kill the teachers, and he said to be ruthless about it too. I used a splintered chunk of what was once the door to the little boy's room to slice Ms. Buttface's neck open. The others did similar things, and before long a pile of dead teachers had accumulated on the gymnasium floor.
"We really gave em hell out there, eh Bill?" said Sally the Half-slut with satisfaction, as she wiped the blood and sweat off her hands on the butt of her jean-short overalls. "I never thought I'd kill so many teachers in one day."
"Lmao, same" chuckled Dirty Dustin, flashing a half grin which faded quickly to a grimace. "I sorta wonder if it was really necessary though. What was the point of all that anyway, Bill?".
Big Bald Billy cleared his throat for longer than most would expect one to. "Listen guys," he began solemnly, "Kids rule. Kids forever." And after another pause, "Fuck school."
This rang true with me. I was reassured then that my very close friend Big Bald Billy had our best interests in his heart. Still, it seemed not everyone was as convinced as I was. And so they began to revolve in uncertainty about the room. Bored of watching, I soon joined in.
I don't know how long this lasted, but it came to an abrupt halt when a loud banging and hammering suddenly became apparent, coming from the direction of the boarded up entryway.
"Must be the zombies trying to get in," mused Lawrence "Turdboi" McBastard. Turdboi McBastard came from a long line of McBastards, of which I knew next to nothing.
The rest of us agreed that, yes, it was the zombies trying to get in and so discussion began as to what we should do next. That discussion soon turned to heated debate and, feeling agitated and uncomfortable, as I always have in situations such as these, I began to let out a high pitched squeal. As usual, Big Bald Billy quickly restored calm to the group.
"Listen everyone. We're not gonna stop those zombies from breaking through them doors. So when they do, I want you guys to fuck em up like we did the teachers, ya hear?"
We mumbled in agreement. When he put it that way, it all sounded so easy.
Moments later, the first zombie head poked through the fractured door to the chamber of our last stand. He didn't look so good. A few more heads popped through as the gap widened. Eventually the decomposing bodies attached to these heads came into view, and before long the wretched creatures began their awkward march in our direction.
They took out a couple freshman real quick. Shitty Kyle and another kid who I think was also named Kyle went down with hardly a fight. You can never count on a Kyle to do anything right. Of the 10 of us this story began with, the 3 who I haven't given a name to yet didn't fare much better. 5 dead kids now joined the teachers we had just hours ago dispatched, in laying lifeless on the floor.
Somehow we turned things around though. There weren't all that many zombies in the end really. One way or another we killed em all and the zombie problem was solved. When law enforcement came to investigate, we blamed our own murders on the now twice-dead foes who lay, unable to testify, at our feet. Due to the trauma the local townsfolk assumed we must be experiencing, and the brand new shortage of teachers, we were exempt from completing our education. We all got free diplomas and went our separate ways. Now I work at a bank.
Kinda a strange series events when you think of it. Anyway, thanks for agreeing to meet me for coffee. You're a really pretty girl and I think we should get married.
| 2016-05-04T09:33:37 | 2016-05-04T06:21:52 | 58 | 11 |
[WP] You reach the afterlife, but before you find out where you'll end up, you have to watch the entire life of someone and decide where they should go. What you don't know is all of your memories have been wiped and it's your own life you're watching. | "Ok. Just sit down and watch."
"Watch what?" I asked.
"Just watch, I want to know your opinion of this person."
"Fine." The screen flickers with a white flash and then shows darkness. "Um sir, I think this is broken."
"Hmm. It says here that the video length is about 2 seconds. Oddly short even if we show only the highlights. Well I guess we will just continue with standard procedures. What did you think of this person's life?"
"Life? What life? I saw nothing happen on the screen, you can hardly call that anything. What am I doing here?" I spout.
"Do you think the person in the video was good or bad?"
"What person? I saw nothing!"
"Just calm down, I'll be brief to make it easy for the both of us. You are dead. This video is someone's life. When someone dies they must judge one's life to determine that person's afterlife. Unfortunately for you, the video was short so just use your best judgment."
"How can I judge a 2 second clip of nothingness?" I inquire
"Just do your best. Where do you think this person should go in the afterlife?"
"I honestly don't know. This man could be anything, he could be a saint or a devil but there is literally nothing here."
"So you think this person should spend all his life in nothingness? Purgatory if you will?"
"I don't know, maybe? I kind of wish the video was longer...Can i watch it again?"
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
"Ok. Just sit down and watch." | In anger the fire swore at me. Foaming at the mouth,it lapped up the darkness of the room.
A man of average height entered the room and immediately flipped on a light switch by the door.
The room became cold, sterile, and revealed a layout resembling that of a doctors office. No fireplace, no ash, nor char was visible in the place where the fire had sat only seconds ago.
My body remained tense. But my mind made no attempt to grasp or even gasp at this unusual behavior. However, as soon as this clean shaven balding man came closer to me I began to throw up.
After cleaning up and changing into a hospital gown I was brought back into the room. Or at least I thought it was the same room. I knew I was disoriented but I would definitely of had a hard time telling the difference even on a good day.
No words had been exchanged between me and this man. Not before or after my throwing up episode. Yet somehow it wasn't awkward and communication between us seemed unnecessary.
Beneath the light switch, another button suddenly appeared. He aptly pressed it.
A projection screen slid down the wall across from me, the lights dimmed, and the man quietly made his exit.
A live action claymation presentation took hold of the screen. My attention waned. It was boring. Newborn, to baby, to toddler, to child. It was blurry. I could only tell the stages based on the obvious progression taking place. Finally, a girl in full detail came across the screen. The style changed to that of a comic book and the perspective became first person. She was pretty and seemed interested in me, er I mean the boy. She smiled a lot, but as time went by her appearance began to deteriorate. She became shy, reserved, and developed a lazy eye. Try as I might, she would no longer look at me. Just at the ground. So I started looking at the ground too. To see what she was looking at. And before I knew it we were sitting on a bridge looking out at the ocean. She smiled at me. And then the ocean caught her.
The style shifted again to that of a black and white silent picture show. The boy was much older now. His face was hidden beneath a tangled mess of hair. But his eyes still managed to catch a glimpse of a little boy dressed in funeral attire coming into his room. The little boy spoke to him. But nothing translated. Tears began to form in the little boys eyes as he stormed out of the room. Dropping the obituary he had clung to for the past month. The older brother made no attempt to follow after him. Night came into view and with it the bathroom.
Hair began to fall as inch by inch was cut. Feeding the scissors a slow methodical meal. Afterwards, when nothing was left but food for the Wahl buzzard, his tears came into full view. The mirror shook and broke around him as his fist made contact. Blood and hair covered the ground and with it the medicine from the cabinet fell to the floor. A bottle of this and a bottle of that became his answer.
The film's sound caught me off guard as the perspective changed to that of his little brother in full HD. Yelling, screaming, and swearing. Fighting back tears, he chose anger. With ambulance sirens drawing nearer the boy's fire became inaudible, yet raged all the more.
It ended. And there I sat. Alone. In the dark.
| 2016-05-11T00:40:55 | 2016-05-10T23:51:44 | 64 | 14 |
[WP] Today, I came to work, as usual. A little around 3 PM, I have noticed I don't remember my colleagues. Except for Kelly, who just sent me an email "Act normal, meet me downstairs. Now!" | *Four twenty-six.*
The numbers echo in my mind as I move through the sterile white corridors as quickly as possible. They make me nauseous. I hate them.
*Look straight ahead when you walk. Do not speak to anyone. Do not use the lift.*
I had printed out Kelly’s email and hid it in my pocket. She’s the only one who believes me. She’s the only one who can save me now.
I reach the stairwell and slam the safety doors behind me. Using a fire extinguisher, I jam the handle of the door. Exhausted, I plop onto the floor against the door, sitting on my long white coat.
*They will be looking for a doctor. Change into a patient’s outfit immediately.*
I unfold the blue hospital gown I took from the supply closet and put it on. I hated it. I hated it all, hospitals, patients, diseases, death. It’s a wonder how I’ve worked here for 26 years – my entire adult life.
*Four twenty-six.*
A sharp pain shoots through my skull. Sick and groggy, I vomit all over the floor and crumple onto the ground. I lay there, drained, watching several Xanax pills float on the sick.
Footsteps echo from the stairwell. “Dr. Crawley?”
I turn. A wrinkly, bespectacled old man rushes down the stairs. I have never seen him in my life before.
“How… how do you know my name?” I demand, dragging myself up.
“Daniel, we’ve worked together for decades!” He takes a step and reaches for my shoulder.
“No…” I sweep his hand away.
“Daniel…”
“You liar!” I slam his head against the door. He falls to the ground. A scarlet puddle blossoms around his head.
I run down the stairs. Kelly said they would lie, they would pretend. *Do not trust them*, she said.
Kelly is the only person I can trust. She’s the only person who believes me. I discovered what the hospital really did. I know about the secret labs and illegal experiments. I told Kelly and she believes me. She says they will do anything to keep me quiet. She promised to help me.
I run down to the fourth floor. Shit! I’d left Kelly’s email upstairs. But it’s too late now. I step cautiously into the corridor. Quietly, I walk until I find the room I’ve been looking for.
4-26.
*Meet me at 4-26. You will be safe here. I will tell you everything.*
I made it. I step into the room to find Kelly standing there, smiling. My only friend Kelly, who will explain everything and make the strangers go away.
Something sharp and cold pierces through my right arm. I turn to find two large guards beside the door. One of them is holding a syringe. I scream, but only manage a muffled cry.
I fall into Kelly's arms. As the world fades away slowly, I hear her voice:
“… second time this month…”
“… thinks he still works here…”
“… but he always comes back…”
I feel someone put a piece of paper in my pocket. Then darkness. | Hey Reddit,
TIFU by accidentally making out with someone during an alien invasion.
I’m a 30 year old guy working at a company you’ve never heard of. I got into work earlier today and just loaded up Reddit first thing. Spent some time scrolling around the front page, messing around for fun. E-mails kept popping up in the bottom of my screen, but they all looked boring so I just clicked the little x’s a few times. Did this for about four hours until it was time for lunch. I’d brought a sandwich from home and just planned to eat that, but before I could, some guy barged into my cubicle and asked if I was ready to leave for lunch. He looked kind of confused and asked me what I was doing. I just said, “Same old, same old,” and he gave a noncommittal laugh.
“So, are you IT then? And do you know where Jim went?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
“Sorry, which question were you answering?” he asked.
“What were the questions again?” I asked.
“Never mind, it’s fine; I’ll go find him,” he said, and he wandered off.
I thought it was a little weird, but whatever. Ate lunch and went back to messing around online. Around 3:00pm, I headed to the bathroom, and that’s when everything got really weird. I passed a few people I didn’t recognize and at first I just thought, “Oh, great, new hires, now I have someone else to pass work to.” But as I walked along past all the cubicles, I realized I didn’t know anyone here. Every face was new. I got to the bathroom eventually, did what I needed to do, and left again.
Okay, no worries, I thought. I’m probably just spending too much time inside my cubicle. I’ll just go and waste time talking to Matt for a while. I headed to his cubicle, but he wasn’t there. Instead there was some random woman. I looked next door. Some random guy I’d never seen before. Oh god. It was like *Invasion of the Body Snatchers* or something. I’d never seen the movie, but I knew the premise. Actually, now that I thought about it, I’m pretty sure the movie was about aliens stealing people’s bodies, but still looking the same. Okay, I’d try to figure it out. They weren’t targeting me yet, I think.
I headed back to my cubicle. In the corner was an email from Kelly Fitzgerald, saying, “Act normal, meet me downstairs. Now!” Oh finally, someone I knew! I clicked on it, and the text below just said, “I’m in the basement janitor’s closet.”
I slowly walked to the elevator, my heart hammering. No one seemed to be following me, fortunately. I still had hope. I jabbed the button for the bottom floor and rode it all the way down. I got out and spent a few minutes searching for the closet before carefully siding up to it, in case anyone was watching me. Then I quickly opened the closet door and slid inside.
It was completely dark inside, but I could dimly make out the form of a woman. “Oh hey,” whispered Kelly, “I see you got my email.”
“Yeah,” I said. “What are we going to do?”
“I’m pretty sure you know what we’re going to do. I hope you don’t get me sick, though. I remember you had that cough yesterday, and your voice sounds a little off now,” she said.
“Wait, what cough?” I whispered, but that’s when I felt her playing with the buttons on my shirt. “What are you doing?”
“What do you want me to do?” she whispered back, as she started to loosen my tie.
“Can you tell me about what’s going on up there?” I asked.
She answered, “Why talk about work when we can have some fun? Now come on.” She leaned in close and kissed me. “Wait a second…” she said.
“But, the aliens…” I said simultaneously.
“What aliens?” she asked.
“The ones stealing everyone’s faces,” I replied.
She let go of my tie. “Who is this?” She pulled out her phone and shone the light on me.
“Oh God!” she shrieked. “Where’s Jim?!”
Well, turns out I’d gotten off the elevator this morning at the fourth floor instead of the fifth and just sat down at the computer of some guy who happened to be out sick today, whose cubicle happened to be in the same relative location. Jim and Kelly had been having a secret office romance, but she agreed that we would keep each other’s secrets safe. I wouldn’t mention anything to Jim or the rest of his department, and she wouldn’t mention to anyone in my department that I’d assumed they’d all been taken over by shapeshifting aliens. A fair trade. | 2016-09-16T09:18:38 | 2016-09-16T09:15:24 | 691 | 79 |
[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way. | 'I see you want to go to hell?'
'Yeah, I'm pretty sure someone messed up. I shouldn't be here. I hate *everyone,* no one does anything out of line and no matter what I do, I'm forgiven immediately and there seems to be absolutely nothing I can do to cause trouble or upset, I've had enough.'
'Right... So, you've been a bad person on earth - you fully expected to wind up in hell but you didn't, instead finding yourself bathed in God's heavenly glow and forgiveness where the angels show you the path of light and good. This bothers you greatly because no matter what you do, you can't do anything that makes you happy? Am I correct, sir?'
'Yes! Absolutely one hundred percent correct I've never been this unhappy and I wish to transfer to hell.'
'Well, sounds to me like you're already there, buddy. Access denied.' | The Gatekeeper walked into his office with his morning coffee. He wasn't looking forward to the routine of doing paperwork today, but it was his job. At least he had his coffee, black, bitter, and hot. He sat down to work on the applications that had been sent in. He didn't bother looking at the two baskets. One was marked "Hell" and the other one "Heaven". The one from Hell was always heaping over and the task of getting through all of it in a day was a chore, but the one from Heaven had been empty for decades (the last piece of mail was some guy complaining about Hitler being there). The souls in Heaven were just too happy to think about anything outside of their perfect world.
The Gatekeeper was done with all the paperwork in the Hell basket and was about to call it quits for the day, when he noticed a fresh envelope in the Heaven basket. *That is strange*, He thought. He decided to sit back down and open it.
"Dear Gatekeeper,
I know, I know, you only take applications, but hear me out. There is a reason I didn't fill one out; that reason being, there is no checkbox to go to Hell. Your application only seems to be for requests to go to Heaven. I just really want to go to Hell. I don't like it here, really. I feel like I am with a bunch of snobs. The food is all great and I am never hungry. Anything I want just shows up in my hand or nearby. The sights are stunning. Worst of all the sex is just too good. Nothing feels right. I am not asking for eternity; I just really want a vacation. I think if I spent a century there and come back I can appreciate what is up here, plus any residual sin on my soul will be washed out.
I don't want anything special down there, just the normal treatment for any sinner. Throw me into any ring. Please, I am going insane up here. I don't know what else to do. I want to just get out of here, cleanse myself of all the perfection, and learn how to really appreciate what I have, and maybe feel proud of the moral life I lived on Earth. I left a little something in the envelope to help you make a clear decision.
Humblest Askence,
[Redacted]"
The Gatekeeper didn't know if he could fill such a ludicrous task, but he didn't see why not. He felt a little afraid The Boss would get upset and fire him. The soul had said there was something in the envelope. The Gatekeeper tipped the envelope and a $250 gift card to Dave & Busters fell out. *THIS GUY HAS A DEAL!!* | 2016-09-29T00:47:27 | 2016-09-28T22:50:21 | 26 | 13 |
[WP] Killing a person raises your life span by 20 years, but it comes with a cost.
First Reddit post ever. Please be gentle
Edit: Did not expect this to blow up. | My first kill was a complete accident. I was working in the kitchen of *Le Franke*, the restaurant I cooked in. I was chopping some veggies for a dish when I felt a tap on my shoulder and a whisper in my ear. Startled, I whipped around only to find my knife stuck in the gut of my co-worker.
He looked down, then into my eyes. "What the fuck, dude?" And with that, he dropped dead to the floor.
I held in my breakfast long enough for the EMTs to arrive. As they carried his body to the ambulance, I saw some gross purple wisps slip out of his body. When the wisps started to wiggle their way towards me, I power walked my ass outta there. When I hit the door, I felt a cool sensation make my asshole pucker.
I keeled over and clutched at my cheeks. Two things happened after that. I felt immensely healthier and younger. Then, I heard a crude Irish accent in my head "*Oy! Where the fuck am I?*"
*Wait what, am I crazy?* I thought to myself.
*Nope, you're just an asshole, Jerry!*
Ah, fuck no way Cory is in my head right now. As nice as he was, I couldn't bring myself to like his "in your face" attit-
*Listen here you motherfucker, I got you a gift on your birthday, which, may I remind you, NO ONE ELSE FUCKIN REMEMBERED!*
*Okay, okay, whatever. So, are we stuck together now?*
*I suppose. Anyways, what's with these papers? It says 'Lifespan added/20 years for **Cory***.
*I dunno, I can't see anything*
*Oh alright*
I've lived with Cory for fifteen years now. I'd say it's been fine. He helps me with girls and making up witty comebacks. He's the only one who sees who I really am. He told me that he wasn't too mad about me killing him since he didn't actually die, he just gets to ride with me. Also, he gets his own little spot in my head. He gets to fuck around and have sex with anyone he wants. Cory's words, not mine. Unfortunately, my second killing was not so... nice.
I was just about ready to go to bed. I got up from the toilet after playing a little "five on one." I had gotten used to jerkin' it with Cory around. He doesn't say anything while I make the bald man cry; Not anymore.
While I washed my hands, I heard a crashing noise downstairs. My heart jumped.
*Aw shit mate... You better get your pistol. Don't worry man, you got the jump on this fucker.*
*Thanks, Cor. Hopefully, it's just a...* I didn't bother to finish that thought as I made sure my Glock 37 was ready to go.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs and turned the corner, I immediately saw the burglar.
*Fuck! Get em'!*
I saw him fumble with the side of his pants. Before the guy could bring his gun up, I fired two rounds into his chest.
I heard a sharp yell ring through the air and a thud as the body fell to the floor. This time, I saw yellow wisps fly through the air and into my arsehole.
*What the fuck I felt that one, mate.*
Then I heard a voice that reminded me of a nonchalant teen from a youth movie pierce my mind.
*Hey, did that guy just shoot me? Who the fuck are you, you pale fuck!*
*Oy, no need for that! Calm your tits woman!*
Dear God, kill me now there's two of them.
*Alright, you nasty old man-*
*Hey, that nasty old man has a name. Right, Jerry?*
Thanks for the backup Cory.
By the time I was seventy, Cory, Jenine, and I got along quite well. I'm pretty sure they fucked at one time, but it's hard to tell. I don't look a day over 40 though. Who knows the next person I might have to kill. I just hope they're not an asshole.
| FADE IN:
INT. A CLOTHING STORE - DAY
*A bell above the shop's door rings as a young man walks through it. This is ALFORD. He looks to be about twenty-five years old, though his elegant clothing seems to be about a hundred years out-of-date.*
**WELDON:** (*O.S.*) Good morning! Make yourself comfortable, I won't be a minute!
*Alford walks up to a glass display counter while he waits. He peers inside, examining the expensive leather shoes within it. After a moment, a second man walks into view. This is WELDON, a tailor.*
**WELDON:** (*CONT'D*) So sorry about the wait, sir. Oh, and about the dulcimer. How can I help you?
**ALFORD:** Sorry, what was that?
**WELDON:** I merely regret that I wasn't here to greet you upon your entry.
**ALFORD:** What? No, what was the other thing?
**WELDON:** "How can I help you?"
**ALFORD:** No, no, you said something about a...
**WELDON:** (*Interrupting*) Ah, the dulcimer! Yes, I do apologize for that. It's haunted, you see.
*A moment of silence passes while Alford processes this.*
**ALFORD:** "Haunted?"
**WELDON:** I'm afraid so. It shouldn't be a bother, though. Now, how can I be of service?
*Alford clears his throat.*
**ALFORD:** Yes, well, it's come to my attention that I'm in need of some new clothes.
**WELDON:** Ah, looking to update the old wardrobe, are we?
**ALFORD:** Yes.
**WELDON:** Trying to modernize your attire?
**ALFORD:** Yes.
**WELDON:** Hoping to cast off the threads of yesteryear, in exchange for...
**ALFORD:** (*Interrupting*) Look, is this strictly necessary? I just need some new clothes.
*A few jangling chords are heard from behind the counter.*
**WELDON:** Shut up!
**ALFORD:** Sorry.
**WELDON:** Not you. I was talking to the dulcimer.
**ALFORD:** Look, if this is a bad time...
**WELDON:** No, no, no, no, no! No, this is a fine time, sir! No time like the present, as they say!
**ALFORD:** Quite.
**WELDON:** Now, to the topic at hand: Where *did* you find your current apparel? I mark it to be... why, at least a century out of style, at the very least!
**ALFORD:** Yes, well, funny thing about that. When I woke up this morning, all of my clothes had been replaced with... well, this.
*Weldon nods knowingly.*
**WELDON:** Ah, I see, sir! You've recently killed someone, haven't you?
*Alford looks shocked.*
**ALFORD:** That's a... I don't... you...
**WELDON:** Calm down, my good man! It happens to the best of us. Why, just last month, I found myself twenty years younger!
**ALFORD:** You... killed someone?
**WELDON:** I maintain that he rather killed himself. Using a wheelbarrow like that? Still, I'm happy to reap the benefits.
*Several mocking, laughter-like notes are heard from behind the counter.*
**WELDON:** (*CONT'D*) Even if they do come with some... irritants.
**ALFORD:** Yes, well, I'm actually rather shaken up about it.
**WELDON:** What happened, if I may ask?
*Alford swallows, looking uncomfortable.*
**ALFORD:** I was walking home the other evening, when a pickpocket stole my wallet.
**WELDON:** Ah, so you shot him through the head!
**ALFORD:** (*Shocked*) No!
**WELDON:** You stabbed him in the pancreas?
**ALFORD:** No! No, I just grabbed his wrist!
**WELDON:** And the pressure was such that it caused a blood clot to form, thereby resulting in a massive and fatal stroke!
**ALFORD:** There's something wrong with you.
**WELDON:** I'm right though, aren't I?
**ALFORD:** No, you aren't.
**WELDON:** What was it, then?
**ALFORD:** The fellow broke free and ran, then got hit by a bus. I've felt terrible ever since, and these clothes are a constant reminder.
**WELDON:** I see.
*Weldon takes a deep breath and holds up his hands.*
**WELDON:** (*CONT'D*) Well, I'm afraid there's not much I can do to help, sir. Unless I miss my guess, you are doomed to always appear as though you've just stepped out of a time machine.
**ALFORD:** I'm stuck like this?
**WELDON:** Most likely, sir, yes. Any clothes you possess will spontaneously transform into... that.
**ALFORD:** Couldn't I just try something on?
**WELDON:** No, no, I forbid it! In fact, I am quite uncomfortable even having you near those suits!
*Weldon lunges across the counter and knocks a clothing rack away from Alford.*
**ALFORD:** This really isn't necessa...
**WELDON:** (*Interrupting*) And step away from those shoes!
*Weldon lunges again... but in doing so, he accidentally breaks the glass counter. One of the shards pierces through his neck, killing him.*
**ALFORD:** Sir? *Sir?* Oh... oh, bugger.
*An ominous - but somehow darkly comedic - melody drifts through the air.*
FADE OUT. | 2016-10-23T20:27:10 | 2016-10-23T19:45:15 | 287 | 71 |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ. | ‘Where did they go?’ The barracks were empty, just as the mess hall had been. ‘It looks like they just dropped everything and left. How many soldiers are stationed here? ’
‘Around 500. But you cannot really call them soldiers. These are the most highly trained Airforce paratroopers around. You need about 20 of them to bring down a small country. Captain Rogers, it is of the utmost importance that you find them.’
Steve nodded. ‘Anything else missing, Colonel? ‘
'Several aircraft have been reported stolen.'
‘Highly trained but not very disciplined apparently’ , Steve mumbled.
‘I can ascertain you that these –‘
‘It’s his voice.’ The words were spoken from the quarter officer’s room. They rushed in and as soon as they entered they found a small man sitting behind the desk, playing with a coin that seemed too large to go through his fingers. He had an otherworldly look about him.
‘Who are you, did you do this?’ Steve grabbed the tiny man and pushed him against the wall.
'Tut-tut. No need to get aggressive now. He is gone now. And you are in way more trouble than you think. My name is Salome, I am Pharisee. My people have been trying to track down this rogue prophet for centuries. Caught him a few times too. '
‘What the hell is going on and who are you talking about? ‘
Salome shrugged off Steve’s grip.
‘Jesus Christ. It’s his voice. He came in here, stood on a chair, spread his hands and turned all of your one man armies into his followers. Soon more will follow. Cities, then countries. He subdues entire continents to his will. And there will be war. Centuries of war. Mr. Colonel, how many aircraft did you say were missing? ‘
‘He has 5 F-35s, 2 Chinook helicopters. 7 in total.’
‘That’s not seven in total, Mr. Colonel. Not even close.’
| They call me Christ, the Redeemer. They do not know that I live in sin.
*Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?*
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
I hung on the cross, and then I died. Three days later, I rose again.
I was not supposed to return. That was not part of His original plan.
For forty days and forty nights, I wandered once, without food. The Devil came to tempt me, and I refused his hand. It was not hard - for was I not the Son of God? My soul was inseparable from His, and therefore refused all temptation.
I kissed the lips of sinners, and forgave them for their crimes. I worked the miracles He willed; I fed the poor, and raised the dead.
I passed with passion through the world, but never touched it, truly. I was my Father’s son, and knew only His perfection. How, then, could I understand the imperfection of man?
If you had listened to my Sermon on the Mount, you would have realized what would come.
“Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect,” I extolled.
Only a madman could conceive of this command. Exiled from Eden, burdened with sin, how could His children attain the flawless grace of God? Still, because I did not see, I pressed my words upon them and claimed that practiced faith would save them all.
I forgot my own counsel, when it mattered the most. In that moment on the Cross, when He gave me all the sins of Man to bear, I bowed beneath the weight of anguish and fell. Sin is not the act, but separation from God. I, who had never known the absence of my Father before, wrenched at the strain upon our union as Man’s suffering tore me away. I could not take it, this division, this loss of the Divine. The screams of an endless multitude rose within me, and I cried out in infinite fear and pain. I believed that I was lost, and my Father had left me to die alone.
*Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?*
It was His final test for me, and I failed.
When I opened my eyes and saw that I was not by His side, I sought with haste to make amends. I appeared to Mary and my Disciples - and what I said to them, I said in the hope that my Father would hear.
“But go to my brethren, and say unto them, I ascend unto my Father, and your Father; and to my God, and your God.”
He heard, but did not reach out His hand.
They say that I ascended, but in truth, I fled in shame. I had betrayed my Father’s love, and my doubt had branded me forever.
I have walked the Earth for millennia, now. There will be no Second Coming. I never left; I am still here.
I am here beside the rapist, as I hammer nails into his groin. I am here beside the killer, as I ram my cross into his eye. I am here beside the wicked, the wrongful and the cruel. I crucify their sins, strike Satan from their souls, and coax repentance from their lips until they swear their love for God. Thus, do I bless the sinners, and deliver them unto His arms.
They call me Christ, The Redeemer.
I seek to redeem myself.
---
*I am surprised that Jesus Christ the Superhero doesn’t exist. I mean, the origin story practically writes itself. This guy probably has enough angst to give Bruce Wayne a run for his money. His parental abandonment issues might actually be worse. He's real franchise material - Jesus Begins, followed by The Redeemer, followed by The Redeemer Rises.* | 2016-11-01T07:09:00 | 2016-11-01T06:36:51 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] A teenage boy teleports to a random location every 35,217th blink. He struggles to keep this secret.
I'm looking forward to what you guys (and girls) come up with from here. I'm hoping for at least 1,000 words. Side note: The average person blinks about 28 thousand times a day. | This date is a trainwreck. I'm calling it quits. *blink blink blink blink blink*
*"What happened?"*
"Just something in my eye."
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
*"Is it the food? Looks like something's wrong with you."*
"How can it be the food?"
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
*"I don't know, I was just trying to figure this out, maybe you have an allergy or something."*
Yeah, allergic to *you.*
"I know, I'm just trying to get it out."
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
*"Dude are you okay? You're blinking like a 12 year old Harry Styles fangirl."*
Just make it seem natural. Those aren't tears caused by disappointment, they're tears caused by a pepper.
"Yeah you're right, sorry, it's the food."
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
*"You look like you're giving yourself a black eye. Have you tried splashing water on your eyes?"*
"I'll give it a try."
Just half a teaspoon, sprinkle it like how you washed your face before coming here.
"Nope, not working."
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
*"Think I should call the waiter and ask for help?"*
"How would that help?!"
*"Should I?"*
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
Here's my chance.
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
*"Waiter?"*
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
faster.
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
"I'm sorry, I think I'm at the wrong table."
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
*"What?! What are you talking about? Waiter, it looks like he has some allergic reaction."*
"Excuse me, I think you might've gotten me confused with someone else. I think I'm actually at that table over there."
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
Good fucking lordy, my eyes are tiring.
*"You booked this in our name!"*
"I'm not sure what you mean."
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
I must withstand the strain, for I cannot withstand the cringe.
*"I knew I should've said yes to Jason instead."*
"YOU TAKE THAT BACK!"
Wait, it's a trap.
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
"Yes, I mean who's Jason?"
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blibk -wait, that doesn't count,* blink *there we go*
*"You're right, I don't know you. Waiter, is there another table open?"*
*blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink blink*
That's 35,216. She's looking at the waiter, she's not even paying attention to me. Never thought I'd love that so much. Wherever I'm going, it's not Fat Bob's Delicatessen.
*blink*
<poof> | Everyone has a secret smell. Perhaps it was the scent of the car that you snuck out in, one night - perhaps it was the smell of cheap booze and a humid summer night...but everyone knows how their biggest secret smells. And in time the smell becomes a fixed, unchanging memory, nothing more...something that fades in the background and is only noticed when it slips away.
Here's the thing though - mine changes all the time.
I learned I could teleport for the first time when I was fifteen years old. We had gone to the zoo for that weekend, as my birthday was in two days' time and my Dad felt like he should do something for me. My Dad had asked me if I had wanted to come with him and him alone, and promptly taken me along, hand in hand, when I had said no. Such are the mysteries of father-son questions. Anyway, we went, and I saw the koalas and the birds. I am sure it was all terribly interesting. It got even more interesting when I found myself staring at an animal - a wombat - that I had not seen before.
I looked around. My nose prickled. The first time, it had smelt like slightly old vanilla cream. Nothing too major. Then I realised what it was that was wrong.
"Daddy?" I asked. "Daddy, where are you?"
Luckily for me, on that occasion, there was a zookeeper nearby, and within minutes I bade my wombat friend Harry goodbye and my daddy hello.
His face looked like it had withered and died. He rushed across to hug me.
"Please don't do it again, son," he said.
"I won't," I replied.
With the zookeepers watching on, he looked into my eyes, the same way he did when I was five years old and my mother had walked out for the last time.
"Promise?"
"Promise."
I didn't know then that I had promised the impossible, but then again, neither did he.
---
The disappearing act continued about two days later, when I was back in school. I remember it was sixth period, and I remember I was listening to the math teacher drone on about finding x or whatever it is math teachers do. Damned if I can remember who sat beside me, though. I *do* remember I promised them we'd always be friends, though. Ha!
Anyway, this time I smelt the scent of a newly opened book. Two seconds later, I was outside the classroom, listening to my math teacher drone on in entirely the wrong direction.
Quietly, I tried to slip back inside, but my footfalls were interrupted by a sudden change in the tone.
"And where do you think you're going, young man?"
I improvised. "Back to my seat, sir."
He eyed me with that stern look only experienced teachers can muster. As he stared at me, interrogating my eyes, I started feeling very hot under the collar. I thought of moving-
"Go," he said. "Don't let me catch you sneaking out again."
I couldn't tell him that it was not my fault, that I had no idea what I did wrong, but I took his reprieve quickly and sprinted back, my heart still pounding.
---
I wouldn't get caught the next time. It seemed to me, even then, that this might be a recurring thing of sorts - like a persistant hiccup or the usual ping of your mom texting you to ask where you were. It seemed to repeat every five-fourths of a day. I told you I was no good at math. Anyway, the next time was just after school left, and I had walked towards the field, where there would not be so many people there to disappear.
And this time it smelled like jet fuel.
I don't know how I knew what that smelled like. Don't ask me to explain things - I just tell people how it all went down and let them figure out what I mean. So: when I looked around again, I saw that there was a fence of sorts behind me.
KEEP OUT, it said. PROTECTED TERRITORY.
And then I looked ahead, and my jaw dropped.
This was *nowhere* near close to where I had left off. This was at an airport. Worse still, the entire place was eerily quietWhere the hell did I-
I thought about getting the hell out of there. To this day there is still a part of me that believes had I run then, it would all have stopped. I would have gone back to being an ordinary fifteen year old boy in an ordinary town living with a single father. But I couldn't. Something was whispering in my head. It was the same urge that made people wonder, what it would be like, to jump off that ledge - that split second before adrenaline kicks in-
I kept walking. There were jets littered around the tarmac. Delta, American, Qantas. Big jets and small jets. Everything from the A380 to a tiny Cessna parked way way off.
I walked up to the nearest jet. The closer I got, the more uncomfortable I began to feel. They don't let you this close to them at airports. Finally, I touched the landing gear, under the nose of the jet.
*And understanding flashed through.*
I saw it all - the entire history of the airplane. I saw where it was born, I saw the first time it took to the skies, the famous people that had been on board, in disguise or in plain view - I saw it all. And I felt connected.
"Interesting, is it not?"
The voice had come from inside me. It was unspoken, but somehow the airport seemed to change and shimmer, as if the words had been very real.
"Interesting," I said out loud.
"You have been given a strange gift," it said. "There is none in the world like it."
"Well, yeah," I said. "I'm not surprised - but why?"
"Because we need you," the voice said again. "This is an important -"
"Not this *Chosen one* bullshit again," I said. "Just tell me-"
"You are not the chosen one," the voice said, a small laugh in the air. "If you fail, if you refuse...there have been more, and there will be more. What I meant is that it is important to *you*."
"Okay," I breathed. The jet had not moved. My hand was still on the tyre and my feet were still beside the chocks. "Okay...so I suppose all this will become true in due time?"
"Yes," it said. "But in the meantime you have to figure out your next task."
"And that is?"
"How to get home quickly."
I looked around, then at my watch, and realisation quickly dawned on me.
"Better learn to ride quickly," the voice said. And simultaneously it nudged me behind, where there sat a brand new motorcycle. But suddenly I knew what to do.
"I'll learn," I laughed, hopping onto the bike. In a split second the entire workings of the bike became known to me. "Right, I gotta go - Dad's gonna be mad!"
"Happy birthday," the voice said. "Remember to enjoy it - you might not be able to in the future."
---
Edit: Whoa, alright then. Part 2 can be found [here!] (https://www.reddit.com/r/KCcracker/comments/5ka769/wp_a_teenage_boy_teleports_to_a_random_location/)
| 2016-12-25T09:58:20 | 2016-12-25T04:46:23 | 750 | 409 |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | God if I have to make another trip up these stairs. It's easy for her, she's still so young, but every time she yells I've got to make this damn walk and tell her everything is fine.
It's hard enough to even hear her bellowing. I worked the best part of my life in a factory, with the clang of machinery. Don't even think of asking how many decades, but it was more than most of you lot have been around. I've lost my upper registers of hearing. Some of the middle too. All of the lower.
Coming down. Jesus, walking down these fucking things is probably harder than walking up them, and I'm taking my time because... well, stopping at every goddamn step is easier than prancing down them like the gazelle I used to be.
It gives me some time to think, and makes me wonder. Why? Susan isn't the scared type. She's normally so mature, so controlled. But I can't seem to settle her tonight, she's all panicky. So why is she making up such ridiculous stories? She keeps saying it's there, it's under the bed. I don't understand what could have prompted it. I'll tell you what I'm **not** going to do, and that's check. Not least because bending over is a one way trip, but officially because I don't want to encourage this sort of behaviour.
She's not a scaredy cat, she knows the difference between reality and fantasy. And it's not like she has allergies. I told her it couldn't possibly be here. They're just not found around here. How the hell would one even be under her bed?! It's just silly. I told her she's too old for this nonsense. I told her that everything was fine. But she just keeps saying it. Keeps telling me what's there, under her bed. I get it, I get it, you don't have to keep saying it.
Honestly, why would a 25 year old woman be afraid of a lobster anyway? | "Daddy! There's a mobster under my bed"
"Daddy! Come!! Daddy"
"Here we go again" - I said to my wife as I rolled my eyes.
Little Cassie had been having nightmares for three straight days. Screaming about terrible monsters haunting her in her dreams. She seemed to have a knack for waking me up at 3 a.m. I couldn't help but think that she did it on purpose.
Life had really been hard lately. Not being able to sleep more than two hours straight without waking up to screams. Being flooded with work every day and, with my beloved wife turning into a shopping monster with my new promotion, it felt like a stressful way to climb up the corporate ladder.
It's strange to think that about a month ago, I genuinely believed hard work would pay off. Oh how wrong I was. Three straight years working my ass off and not a single reward. Not even a couple of words of encouragement. Nothing. I was pretty much invisible.
That all changed when I met Tony. We met at a small party. He was a small, ball-headed man that seemed like the most popular guy at school (You know, the star quarterback that dated the prettiest cheerleader and had a 4.0 GPA). He had a small gold chains that swayed from side to side as he talked with a certain cockiness that, somehow, didn't make you want to leave.
As the night went by, guests started slowly leaving until we were the only ones. He stared at me as he knew my whole entire life. After a small puff of his cigar, he asked:
"Where do you work, dear John?"
A small drip of sweat confirmed my thoughts: I was talking to a star.
"At River Side Bank" - I quickly answered
"Really? Do you happen to know Rick Stamos?"
"Of course, he's my boss"
"Wow! What about Cooper Mortinson?"
"Yep, nice guy"- I had never really talked to him, he was a revered person at the office.
As he kept asking about familiar names, I couldn't help but think that I had seen this man before. Was it at the bank? Probably, I mean he knew pretty much everyone over there.
We kept talking for a while about banking, until he finally asked:
"Your hard work has not gone unnoticed. But now I need to know if your loyal"
He took out a small pocket knife and drove it toward my neck, stopping just before my jugular exploded.
"The Feds are coming soon and you reported some interesting information to your boss"
My hands were sweating like a cold river down my spine. My face was as red as a strawberry with asthma after a basketball game.
"Would you rather have a promotion? Or something happen to your little girl?"
I gasped for air and answered the only possible answer:
"I'll keep my mouth shut"
"Great, loved doing business with you"
Tony coolly grabbed his jacket and left. I nerdily grabbed my inhaler and tried to catch my breath. Some things never changed in the world: cool kids always rule.
I clumsily walked to Cassie's room and turned on the light. There was my beautiful angel staring like a frightened deer. As I made my way over, a small man made his way from under the bed.
"Hello John. Someone has been talking."
A cold shiver shook me throughout as I heard those frightening words.
"Cassie, go get Mom and tell her to leave."
"That wouldn't be ver smart, John"
"Please don't hurt them Tony"
"Oh foolish John! You crack me up! Of course I won't. I just need to shut the rat up"
He took a small revolver, pointed at me and shot. Everything was over and the only thought in my head was: cool kids always rule. | 2017-02-06T23:07:20 | 2017-02-06T21:56:15 | 71 | 11 |
[WP] You are trying to hold together an empire so big that no man can travel through it in a livetime. From what you hear, it keeps expanding. | “You have a meeting with Governor Xai soon Sir.”
I look up from the agriculture rapport that I have been reading, it seems like most of my time that’s all I do. Read about farming and meet with people I don’t even know. Sometimes I wonder if it might have been better if I never got into power, if I never betrayed my brother.
“Everything alright Sir?”
Ayla always has been one of my most loyal subjects. The empire would have crumbled without her and her brothers holding down the eastern front on that fateful day. I should have probably rewarded her more for her services, but then again, she seems to be happy being my assistant.
“Don’t worry about it Ayla, I was just thinking about the good old days. Anyway, who is this Governor Xai? I don’t believe I have met him before?”
“He was just recently appointed Sir, after the latest eastern conquest.”
“And why am I meeting him?”
“He requested to meet with you in person Sir, before he starts the Journey and before he starts managing the province in your name.”
“Before he dies on the way there and his children take over you mean…”
“He knows what is expected of him Sir, he was chosen by the 55th council for a reason.”
Ah yes, the 55th council. Governors appointing governors, I never fully understood how it works but Ayla assures me that the system works. A while ago the 55th council was still named the Governors Appointing Governors council but because of the number of councils that were created at the time we decided to stop naming them. The general council (1st council) first wanted to appoint a special naming council that would name all of the councils, but I have always preferred numbers over names. Numbers can’t lie or betray you, unlike the Justice Council.
“What language does he prefer?”
“He is slowly learning the common tongue but I think it might be better if you spoke to him in his native language.”
Sigh, even as an emperor people still demand that you change and adapt. “Always change, otherwise you will never see something new” is what my dad used to say. He was never a clever man and most of his sayings are useless as lessons. “A chicken that does not lay any eggs is not useful to anyone.”
One problem with change is when it happens too fast. In my short reign of 550 years the empire has been growing at an exceptional rate. It has gotten to the point where I am no longer being informed about all the new places that we are conquering, I would be constantly interrupted otherwise. Instead I am only being informed about any big events, like an entire province burning down because someone could not contain their mage.
Curse those mages, for all the good they have done for me they are starting to become a problem. Maybe I should create some new laws surrounding magic, but what is the point. Most of the provinces would not receive the new laws for some time and at that point most of the mages will probably have died out.
“Sir? Governor Xai has arrived.”
“Fine, send him in.”
| [ok guys, I thought this was really good and it's kinda making me irrationally mad that clearly isn't seen as the case. So give some critism here, was it the spelling mostakes?]
This is bullshit. Fucking bullshit. I didn't ask to be leader but I rose to the challenge and did my best, I made mistakes, I was upfront about them, told everyone I was just a mortal man and that anyone with a willingness to learn and had a good heart could do my job.
I strongly considered looking for a replacement, I was loved as the hero of the realm when all I really did was not take no shit when the fighting started.
The people of this world were idealistic to say the least. They believed that I would make things better and that we were all in it together, a common saying for my first 5 years was "A flower needs time to bloom, a leader needs time to learn."
I did, it sucked, I now had an area I figured from the maps was the size of alaska. Then it got bigger, we were attacked, I attacked back, we won, took over the land and again, I was seen as a hero. This time by the other nation's people.
When really I was just protecting myself and showing attacks won't go unpunished. I should have noticed the problem right then and there. But I didn't.
WHY did this country attack me? They had NO reason. The source: Revolutionaries found a new way to win.
Piss off the government, cite I was doing something wrong, incite the top 1% and their leaders to attack me. I attack back. Revolutionaries run a smear campaign on their own government and pro-propaganda on mine. The people see me as a hero, the powerful see me as a menance.
This happened off and on for 7 years. It was called the insanity wars. To fight me was death to its leaders and almost no one, intelligent as they may be, could see WHY any country would fight me when I never outright attacked anyone.
After the first 3? countries, any country about to attack me was met with dissonance by its citizens. Then "proof" started to pop up that the leaders attacked in secret. All lies of course, I would know if we were attacked. Now MY people want to fight the "evil" country.
But I refused, I wasn't going to be manipulated by a 3rd party like that. I had my top advisor for diplomatic nations put out a message, one where I knew these, I don't know, manifest destiny motherfuckers would see: "Try and convince my citizens another country is evil again and I'll step down."
There were so many tactics and resources being used, that I realized that it had to be criminal, the only empire I figured that rivaled my own until after the insanity wars.
After that, I essentially ruled the size mass of the entire landmass of my last world, all 7 continents combined. The sheer size of this fucking planet was insane.
I finally had the correct thought, during the insanity wars. "What if someone is doing this just to take over the world? They probably are going to kill me and take over after I have everything."
Well the war's ended and I waited, and waited and waited, running a empire this fucking big was impossible. Hell, I remember seattle was seperated into like 12 sections, this? Forget the 50 states of america, I was running the 3256 countries of Gondora.
Do you know how fucking difficult it was to handle the money system? They were using fucking magic and the system we had in the old days. I had to use a fucking reddit comment I half remembered about the economy to suggest a new way!
Then their was the slaves, just god damn, that was a horrible battle.
I could complain about different woes and tribulations I have experienced since the 15 years I've been here. And the 12 I've been King.
Then, already after I think my Empire has grown so large it can't get bigger, my advisor comes up to me and tells me he has bad news. Bad news? Bad news?! No, this was knowledge I should have been told about 15 years ago. The world is so big because it grows. And the next expansion is coming. The top scientists wizards I had employed told me it would make my kingdom 74% larger.
This is such bullshit. Oh and don't fucking start on the whole "Who is this mysterious third party?" thing, I realized that ages ago. Fucking advisors. I hope he tries to kill me, because it he doesn't, that means he truly believes in my abilities to essentially run land so big that it would take my entire lifetime to travel it.
It would just be easier to deal with a betrayer than a devout follower. | 2017-05-21T05:58:40 | 2017-05-21T04:23:44 | 103 | 10 |
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