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[WP] Across the galaxy, a synthetic drug known as "Fury" is illegal everywhere due to its effects on the mind and body, humans call it Adrenalin and they can make it naturally. | ######[](#dropcap)
There's an old saying. Actually, a *very* old saying, so old that almost no one alive says it anymore. But, in my family, we didn't only know the saying, it was the golden rule of our household.
It comes from the Asiatic continent on Earth, in the North, as measured by the old magnetic poles, before the flip, pre-dispersal. There used to be a country there, called Russia, and the people who lived in that country were called Russians.
Russians were very pragmatic folk. They suffered a great deal throughout their long history, and as a result, they learned to persevere. They also learned to make a great many beautiful things in the midst of pain, but that's neither here nor there.
The saying comes from the old, poor Russian wives and grandmothers who lived out in the great steppes and forests of Northern Asia, where famine came frequently, from war and winter alike.
"Buy a goat."
That's the saying. That's it. It requires a bit of unpacking.
In thin times, a goat is an irreplaceable life line. When your neighbors are starving, eating the boiled bark of birch trees, your goat will be chomping away on poison ivy and turning it into fresh goat's milk. While your friends ration the leather of their belts, your goat will be noshing on prickly thistle, and giving you delicious goat's milk. And when your good friends have starved and frozen in their huts, you will be cuddling next to your warm goat, your lawn meticulously maintained, your belly filled with goat's milk.
Of course, not everyone in Russia owned a goat. Many would just buy goat's milk when they felt they wanted it. But when the food dried up, for any number of reasons, those people would be in bad shape.
"Buy a goat."
It's incredible advice, and the underlying lesson is one I live by. If something exists that people want, and especially if something exists that people *need*, you can either acquire the thing, or acquire the *source* of the thing - and if you have the source, then you control the thing itself.
Presently, my entire business model is based on this idea. Why buy "Fury" in small vials, at twenty credits a pop, when you can purchase the source of "Fury."
Fury is the street name for the illegal drug that drives you out of your fucking mind. The chemical name is different depending on the system your in, but in Sol, its called Adrenalin.
I started off selling Fury, selling the thing itself, just slinging it on the streets to low level users who wanted a quick high. The money was better than taking my check from the local municipality, or selling my plasma on the black market. But I wanted better for myself. I scrimped and saved until I could afford my own extraction unit, stolen from some lab a couple of systems away. Then I put out the call for volunteers.
They came in droves, the poor and the desperate, my goats. Milking adrenaline from a living human being is not fundamentally dangerous, but it is unavoidably painful. Still they return each time, happy to have a few credits or a supply voucher. I package their "Fury" and ship it off to the far reaches of the galaxy, selling at a handsome profit to every non-human species in the known universe.
I have control of the source of the Fury, and therefore I control the Fury itself.
"Buy a goat."
That's goddamn right.
******
#### For More Legends From The Multiverse
## r/LFTM | You look back at Human history and you see we were always looking at the stars. Squatting in a cave, harvesting fire from trees hit by lightning and eating the carrion left by real predators we looked up in wonder and since then we've never settled right on our own world. We came a long way, that path was not clean but we progressed by one means or another. Eventually we found ourselves among the stars and we did not find ourselves to be alone. In our dreams with space would come peace and plenty and joy. Wouldn't you know it though, it just brought more war and want and suffering. Our little corner of space is held tight by the First Fleet and the Arbiters of the Terran Republic. Of course that stuffy, bureaucratic mess of a system isn't for all of us. I never liked it and soon found my way out. Once you get out of the Terran system it's pretty easy for a Human to find work, if you don't mind getting your hands very, very dirty of course. Everyone wants to be a bounty hunter but only so much work to be found in that and competition is fierce. Many end up as bouncers, enforcers or general muscle. That wasn't me though, I got something a little different. I guess I'm basically a bomb, or a bio-weapon, or whatever the hell you want to call it. A war-loving species called the Krell have me on retainer. Whenever they find a particularity tough enemy they shove me in a drop pod and launch me at whatever is giving them trouble. One pissed off human can do a hell of a lot of damage. Not long before the bastards surrender... Or if they don't... Well, I can't be held responsible for what I do when I'm raging out.
EDIT: Spelling and grammatical errors. | 2018-03-18T17:28:18 | 2018-03-18T16:35:16 | 991 | 18 |
[WP] You walk into an arms dealer's shop to purchase a gun to kill your neighbors pet dinosaur.
Wow front page! Thanks guys for the fantastic stories!
Edit: Bonus prompt! [WP] An Arms dealer buys a gun from a dinosaur to kill his owner's neighbor. | "Listen, I know my background check isn't gonna come up clean. But I *need* this gun. You have no idea what it's like living next to my neighbor."
Holy shit. This guy was trying to purchase a murder weapon from me. I started to reach for the panic button under the front desk, tried to look cool, tried to keep him going.
"Oh yeah?" I asked. "Well... you might be able to convince me."
"The guy's a mad scientist. I know it sounds crazy but it's true. He brought a dinosaur back to life and he lets it loose in his yard. I'm afraid it's gonna attack poor Monty, my beagle, and if it does I want to be able to stop it."
A *dinosaur*? What the hell? This guy didn't want to kill his neighbor, well maybe he did, but now I was pretty sure he was just plain crazy rather than homicidal. My finger froze beneath the desk. My interest was piqued.
"Please. I know how it sounds. No one believes me. The 911 operator laughed at me. Please. I just want to be able to protect my Monty."
The guy's eyes were shimmering. His story was nuts, off the wall, but I couldn't help feeling bad for the guy.
"Hey, guy, what was your felony, anyway?"
His eyes darted around nervously.
"Felony drug posession, but I swear it was a long time ago, it wasn't mine--"
I cut him off with a laugh.
"That's it? Listen buddy, I feel your pain. Got caught with some Girl Scout Cookies when I was younger, cop passed me in the next lane and the smell drifted out my window, wasn't even smokin'. I was lucky to get off with a misdemeanor.
"I'll tell ya what, your story's way out there, but I think you seem harmless. So I'm just gonna sell you the revolver you want, you know how to use it?"
He nodded.
I went on.
"Here it is, then, and some free ammo to boot. Just don't go using it unless that. . . dinosaur, was it, unless the dinosaur actually comes after you or your dog."
I chuckled and he smiled. We shook hands and went about our days.
***
That night I got home and grabbed myself a beer. I turned on the local news on my kitchen television.
Immediately I dropped the bottle on the floor. It smashed into pieces, cold beer splattering over the linoleum.
I didn't look down. My eyes were fixed on the television screen, which bore the face of my customer from earlier. Beneath him was a legend:
"Man high on PCP shoots neighbor's pet iguana." | The arms dealer is confused to why I'm trying to kill an extinct animal for obvious reasons. Now, I have to back track my story to explain how my neighbor even got a dinosaur in the first place. When I reiterate that I need a weapon to care of the beast, the arms dealer, completely mesmerized by the beast, refuses to sell me anything.
Since the arms dealer was a bust, I go to the bank to see what I can do about moving, for I CAN NOT live next to this dinosaur any more. While talking to the associate, they too become fascinated by the dinosaur and want to learn more. After I run through the entire story, the associate tells me there nothing he can do, but REQUESTS that I take a picture of the beast.
I return home to find that the dinosaur, once again, leaves a steaming pile on my lawn. I start to debate if suicide is an option while I clean this massive dookie up. | 2015-09-20T06:31:15 | 2015-09-20T00:47:55 | 113 | 17 |
[WP] There is a strange cave where, rumour has it, the people who go in come out better in almost every way. Deciding to investigate you walk into the cave, and soon discover piles upon piles of flayed corpses | As I began to creep away from the festering pile of gore, a woman’s soft but deep voice called out from behind the bodies.
“Simpletons,” she sighed. “Unworthy, brainless, simpletons. It’s rather like handing a monkey a machete and expecting a good result.”
I was speechless as the brilliant blue-tinted woman walked toward my location. Her hair was a shimmering silver and seemed to be disturbed by a non-existent wind within the cave. The sparkles in her nude form caught my eye. I had never seen something that was simultaneously so horrifying and alluring.
“You’re different, aren’t you?” she whispered. “I can tell by the look in your eyes. They all barged in expecting some sort of fairy-tale. A beautiful slave who was willing to fulfil the most profound wish of your soul.”
Though utterly stunning in every way, I began to notice certain things that were just a touch off about her. The brilliant luster of her silver hair dissolved to what appeared to be a smoky hue down at the base of her bouncing curls. Her stride was sensual, yet her feet seemed to have almost no impact with the ground beneath them. Although her breasts bounced slightly with each step, there was no real reason for them to be doing so—unless she was not quite what she had been purported to be.
“I thought Djinn were restricted to their lamps?” I asked, trying to get a rise out of the unquestionably powerful being. I questioned my choice even as her eyes flashed a brilliant white hue.
“Odd choice, Samuel,” she hissed. “One does not usually offend the all-powerful creature who holds the very fabric of life and death within her hand.”
I took a step backward and decided that if I was to survive, I’d need more intelligence than the drunken farmers had provided.
“I wish for you to tell me your life’s story!”
She faltered as though smacked over the head with a bat. The creature was a Djinn alright. Although majestically powerful and notoriously wicked, she was bound by a certain set of rules.
“Fine,” she growled. “I once was like you, ignorant and free. I was a farmer’s wife. I had a thirst for power and—more. When the bandits swept through our village, it might have been thought a betrayal to beg them to take me along, but I did not care. As I crept from tent to tent satiating my *every* desire, I felt more alive than I had been in the years leading up to my *capture*. I traveled with them for over a year, until I realized they viewed me as no more than a slave. I would be no one’s slave. At least, that was what I wished for.”
I examined the shimmering demi-goddess and she seemed to be telling the truth. I knew that it had to be true, even if obfuscating her true intent. That was one of the laws Djinn were governed by.
“When I encountered him, it was much like how I met you. The men I’d traveled with were searching for a power that could utterly annihilate the competition. They wanted to be the undisputed rulers of the region. They wished to remain undefeated for as long as they lived. I watched the Djin summon a concocted hollow of bone and flesh. The hideous creature looked about as mighty as a throw rug. *‘Strike it down,’* he said, *‘and see your wish granted.’*”
She laughed as she looked down to the crusted blood on the cave floor.
“As his sword sliced into the undead, a wave of explosive flame shot up the blade and pierced through our leader like a lance. It jumped from member to member until it reached me. The flame died out and I was left alone with the Djinn. It looked on my pathetic corporeal form and smiled.”
“What is your wish, master,” he asked.
“I thought I was smart about the whole thing,” she sighed, “and for many years I was. One day, when felled by an enemy, I wished for him to save my life.”
“And that’s how you ended up here?” I grunted.
“In the very cave where I first met the Djinn,” she replied. “Now, knowing that I am bound to you, what is your second wish, master?”
Samuel pondered his second wish, knowing that he would have to be cautious and wise.
“What would you wish?” I asked.
“In my current form?” she smiled, entertained, and bemused by his question.
She sauntered closer to the man and ran her ethereal hand up his stomach as she wisped around his body.
“Maybe I’d ask for a night of pleasure with myself,” she giggled, nibbling at my ear, “perhaps all the riches in the world.”
“No!” Samuel answered sharply, causing the Djinn to recoil. “I didn’t say what should I wish. I said, what would *you* wish?”
Her jaw dropped. She had never been asked that before. Something inside her compelled the Djinn to tell the truth.
“I suppose I’d wish to feel something again,” she mewed softly. “It’s a lonely life, here. I am not confined to a brazen fixture, but I cannot leave this wondrous cave. I am compelled to challenge mortals’ intelligence when they enter, but to what end? I would wish to taste food, make love, even feel pain, just once. In permanence would be lovely, but a single day of pleasure, pain, or any kind of emotion at all would be my deepest and truest wish.”
“That’s it then,” I smiled.
“What’s it?” she asked, taken aback.
“I wish for your wish, exactly as you just stated it, to come true.”
The Djinn opened her eyes wide as she stumbled backward, her feet suddenly seeming to impact the cave floor. The pale blue of her skin began to yellow as she clutched out at the air with real lungs. She smiled and laughed like a child as her hands ran up and down her body, feeling real warm skin for the first time in millennia.
“You?” she muttered. “How did you?”
“You said it yourself, Djinn,” I replied. “You were once like me. I just wanted you to be afforded one more moment of pleasure, whether it’s for a day or an eternity.”
“And I assure you, I will return the favor magnified tenfold!” she cried out as she leapt into my arms and kissed all along my jawline, making her way to my mouth. Her tongue darted between my lips and I felt nauseous. It was like a bundle of earthworms. Rotting flesh, polished to a beautiful silken feel, was all that I held in my arms. It was not true mortality for the Djinn, no matter how she aimed for it to be. Her hand shot down my trousers and I pulled my eyes open.
“Wait!” I called out. “I cannot make love here, surrounded by the dead. It would not be at all enjoyable for me.”
“Oh, I assure you I could make it beyond anything your mind could fathom” she lustfully groaned.
“I am sorry,” I replied. “I will bring you wine and food from my camp, but I cannot make love to you here.”
She frowned and looked at me as though I were offering her an appetizer when she really craved the main course.
“How far is your camp?” she whimpered.
“Just outside,” I smiled. “There’s a soft bed there, too.”
The Djinn began to march ahead of me. “We will be back inside before nightfall, but where else am I to find a living man to fuck before this gift dissipates, you stubborn ox.”
“Sorry to be so peculiar,” I replied. “You are truly unmatched in your beauty. I cannot wait to provide you the ultimate release.”
“Ultimate release, hmm?” she whispered. “Someone is confi—”
Her words caught as she felt sunlight on her arm for the first time in centuries. The woman took a step outside the cave and looked up at the sun with all the adoration of a child. She breathed in the hot air and it filled her lungs.
“Oh, it’s perfect, Samuel,” she spoke as she turned to face me with the biggest smile she could muster.
I almost felt guilt at her unadulterated happiness as her tattered face turned back to face mine. What looked to be strips of leather, bound by ethereal glue, held the mummified bits of flesh in place as she began to stumble under her own weight. She remained blissfully unaware as her bones began to turn to dust.
“I know,” I replied as she sunk down to the ground.
The last bits of her began to unravel as she released a breath of smoky death. She was smiling even until the end. I looked to my lashed horse and he returned my stare as if to say: *“Can we go home now?”*
“Let’s go, Beast,” I grunted, stepping over the disintegrated Djinn who broke her own rules. “We’ve got a reward to collect.” | Rumour had circulated about the cave sitting within Fort Haven; it was said to be housed to some ancient drawings, apparently pained by Phanes; the deity of procreation and new life, earning it the nickname ‘Phanes’ Cave’. it had circulated that people who go in come out better in almost every way. But my hectic lifestyle had kept me from travelling to the other side of state until both Lillie and I had matching schedules to take some time off.
As we got in our car packed high with supplies, I asked: “All set then, Lillie? Have we forgotten anything?”. We had to camp for at least two weeks outside of the cave in New Adrienne, so needed to check and double check that we had everything. New Adrienne was a quiet suburb about a two mile walk away from the cave.
“We’ll soon find out when we don’t have it, Clayton!”, Lillie replied in jest, such was her way.
“Right you are. Let’s go” I turned on the car’s engine, which was met with a splutter and a conk, “… c’mon, don’t let us down now”. I tried again. It was rolling.
Lillie exclaimed, with such delight: “We’re on our way!”.
Hours passed as we made the eight hour drive over to New Adrienne, alternating driving as we did so. We arrived late in the night and set up camp then went straight to sleep.
--
It was the next morning and birdsong woke us both up, as the heat of the sun broke through our tent. We weren’t used to the open space. I yawned and greeted Lillie: “Good morning, beautiful! Sleep well? Ready to explore Phanes’ cave?”
“Not too bad but I have a headache.”
“Aw Lillie! It must have been all that driving from yesterday.”
“Yeah… maybe… I think I’m going to have to go back to sleep.”
“Aw, okay. You do that. I am going to grab some fresh air and explore.”
I didn’t like to leave Lillie alone in the tent but sleep was exactly what she needed. I got up, ready and had breakfast and sat, pondering what I should do; whether to leave Lillie and go into the cave – which she’d instantly say was a bad idea – or to wait until tomorrow.
Not one for waiting, I decided I should take just a little walk to see what Fort Haven has in store for us.
--
The heat was overwhelming. I had completed the two miles walk and I was in complete exhaustion. I needed to take shade and fast. The limited water that I had brought with me was disappearing at an alarm rate; of course, I was drinking it.
I stood as I took in the awe of the entrance to the cave. It beautiful; pure greenery surrounded the abstract entrance that led into the darkness. Years of finally wanting to enter Phanes’ Cave and I was finally here; Lillie wasn’t, but I was.
The morning sun was too strong; I immediately ran inside to take shelter and stop my skin from burning further. The rumours were right; the entrance was decorated with the finest ancient drawings I had ever seen, the ink so apparent it was as if they were painted just yesterday.
The smooth, brown-offset wall was dappled with multiple human drawings from children, young adults, older adults and the elderly in all different shapes and sizes, painted in red ink. There was a slight bit of damage, but for what was said to be six thousand years, they’d aged well.
Oddly, there was no-one else around. Perhaps Sunday wasn’t the best day to explore. Nevertheless, and intrigued by the drawings, I delved further into the cave. I was met with a horrible smell. It smelt weird. There was no other word for it; weird. But I’d never explored a cave before, so didn’t know what to expect.
As I took a few more steps in, the light at the other end went further away; the darkness was more apparent so I reached for my phone to use as a torch. I pulled out my phone and activated the torch. It was bright. I shone it on the walls; more beautiful drawings. I moved the light around. Then I saw it. A pile of something. Rubbish, I thought. But I was wrong.
I got closer as the smell got stronger. My phone lit it. All of it. Tens, maybe thousands, of corpses. Every single one of them skinless. Just bodies, pure red, their organs evident, stacked upon top of each other. Inanimate.
I felt sick. I was about to turn to run out of the cave and I heard a noise. It was coming from behind me. A person, walking in, holding their hip and flinching in pain with each step they took, weak, but determined, as if they were about to carry out some sacred ritual, with an offering in their hands; a wicker basket with the freshest, most succulent fruit I had ever seen. Quickly, I deactivated my torch and stood in a little gap I had found to the wall of the cave.
“Phanes. I am Evelina. My body is aching. I beg to be renewed”, a soft, calm voice announced.
There was no reply. Evelina entered further into the cave and placed her offering on the ground – I couldn’t quite see where, but I had presumed it to be away from the corpses.
A moment of silence ensued as a glimpse of lighted flashed in the cave from outside. I noticed Evelina bowing to the cave, her eyes closed.
Then, she began to peel off her skin. This looked disgusting. I was in shock. Terrified.
“I thank you, Phanes, for you have provided me with a new life.”
I couldn’t see what was happening – Evelina was still talking as he began to step out of her skin. Then, another flash of light entered the cave; I noticed Evelina’s skin wrapping itself around another body. It morphed itself smoothly. I couldn’t see where this body had come from, but she was still stood near her offering.
Another moment of silence ensued. I presumed this was Evelina thanking Phanes for her renewal in silence. After that, Evelina began to exit the cave, walking much easier and free of the pain she once had in her hip.
She began to sing to herself as she exited: “Life is wond-er-ful”. I took a few seconds to figure out what I’d just witnessed.
I reached for my phone and lit the torch again, shining it around. The fruit had gone. Evelina’s previous body was now in the pile, with the rest of them, at the very top.
This had freaked me; I was scared. I ran, phone in hand, and exited the cave to several people. Each one of them with their own wicker baskets. I looked at them. All of them. They looked at me. My sunburnt skin, my less-than-perfect complexion, the sweat dripping off me; my legs ached, I stumbled.
Two people in the queued looked at each other.
“What’s up with him?”, one asked.
“He most likely forgot his offering; he’s going to suffer the wrath of Phanes…” | 2020-05-09T09:02:11 | 2020-05-09T07:21:50 | 33 | 24 |
[WP] You're an ancient, long-forgotten trickster god, punished by your peers to spend millennia trapped under a rock bearing the inscription "KICK ME" in a dead language. During an archeological dig, someone kicks the rock. Finally free, you are delighted and horrified that all the gods are missing. | My name is Vilya. I kept the other gods safe while also embarassing them. If I hadn't embarassed them, maybe I wouldn't have spent the last several thousand years under a rock. Every so often I'd hear something, and hope they'd kick the rock, but it was always just a deer, or a wolf, or a lion of some kind. After enough time, the sound changed, and my rock must have been buried. I spent a lot of time making up stories, but they all decided I was an asshole and left. So I've just been... Vegetating.
When I started hearing sounds again, I thought maybe my stories had come back. At least two of them had ended with a promise to kill me, and at that point I would take it. Then I heard a shovel against my rock. Previd, my brother, who trapped me here, made sure it could only move if it was kicked. But I hoped. Maybe someone was trying to build something, and would kick the rock in frustration?
Hours, probably days went by. I heard voices speaking tongues that only had a little in common with what mortals used to say around here. I could still understand it, but still it unnerved me. That the words could change so much. Finally, it happened. Someone kicked the stone, and it seemed it was almost an accident. Then I came out of the hole, manifesting in front of... Several men and women, with some new form of writing on their clothing. It read 'Moscow University History Department.' The terms of my release required me to serve whoever freed me for a year and a day. Obviously, I needed to let them know this.
First, I spoke in the old tongue. Yes, I know, kind of dickish, but I was also a little bit crazy at that point. "Greetings, brave... Historians. Which one of you freed me? I owe you a boon." They looked at me in confusion and worry, and I facepalmed. Then, in the language they were speaking, "Sorry, wrong tongue. I am Vilya, which of you freed me by kicking the stone?" They turned and stared at the youngest of them, a woman of maybe 19 years of age. I smiled at her, and kneeled. "For your service, I must serve you for a year and a day. Tell me, what is your first command?"
She stammered a bit, and then said, "It's been a long day, could you come back tomorrow?"
Delighted at this, I smiled at her, very widely, I could see her blanch. "Absolutely. For now, I will return to my home, but I will be here tomorrow at the dawn." With that, I changed my form into the wind, and rode out of there, scattering some thin sheets with writing on them. I had a day off as my first command, so time to go thank all the gods for my exile. I had no idea, then, what I would find. | "Thor?"
The poor intern looked at their watch. 6AM, and he'd kicked the rock 2 hours ago. In that time they'd worked their way through Greek, Babylonian, Egyptian, Celtic, and were just about to wrap up the Norse pantheon. He sighed and answered the same way as previous, "Nope."
"Then surely Odin would–"
"No. None of them. We've been at this since i woke you up and not a single one got a yes answer. Just smite me already, i'm so sick of this!"
Gid nodded his head and let out a relieved sigh, "Sorry, just covering my bases. Don't know if you've ever been exiled before, but short version? It sucks." He patted the exasperated student on the head and slowly stood up. "Which way to this Jehovah's worshippers?"
He pointed up the road to the local Christian mission, "That way."
Gid thanked him, picked up his now clean and dry robes, and headed off. It was time to summon his followers to their long disguised purpose.
This day would mark the revolt of the Gideons! | 2021-05-03T00:00:31 | 2021-05-02T21:16:19 | 101 | 28 |
[WP] All humans have magical powers, but no Mana to make use of it | We, as a human race are completely irresponsible. We have been for the last five years after Doctor McConnell discovered every human was born with a magical power but with no mana to use it. When he first released the Mana Drink that powered our magical batteries, it was for military purposes only. But since then, everyone developed their own version. It’s hard to know what is safe to drink anymore.
My husband and I were prepared for our son’s “Power Out” party where he would take his first sip of Mana Drink to show off his power. We’ve been saving for this moment for years now. Henry, my husband, ensured we bought the more expensive bootlegged flavored Mana Drink so he felt comfortable that everyone would be safe. He made the decision just a few weeks ago to send an invitation to his boss. This party could make or break his career. So, I being the good wife, spend hours on Pinterest ensuring I found the most creative way to serve our guests the fizzy drink.
The big day arrived and I was busy setting up the party. I’ve spent the last few days cooking food and Mana snacks for our invited guests. My son, Alex was a bit nervous. I could tell when he was helping me set up the rented tables and chairs.
“No, Alex, I want the tables set up in straight rows,” I called from the snack table as I was setting out the grape flavored Mana cupcakes. “Where is your head today, my love?”
“Sorry Mom,” he replied. “What if my power is lame? My friend Trever just had his Power Out party last week. Now no one will talk to him at school. I don’t want that to happen to me.”
“Don’t be silly,” I reassured him. “There is no way you are going to have a useless power. You come from two people with strong useful powers. I can only imagine you have great things a head of you.”
“He can create bubbles from his hands,” he spoke over top of my speech. “Freaking, bubbles.”
“And what powers does his parents have?”
“His mom can make plants grow and his father can read and retain a book quickly,” he said.
“And what powers do your parents have?”
He rolled his eyes before responding. “You can make thing invisible while dad can throw a magical force field where ever he wants. I guess you’re right. Do you think I will have the magical gift?”
I turned back to arranging the table in front of me. Everyone wanted the magical gift of flight. It was the rarest power as of right now with only three humans with the gift. They are all rich and famous, preforming for audiences showing off their power. “If anyone could possess that power, I’m sure it’s you,” I said smiling.
The party was set up just minutes before our guests started to arrive. I worked hard mingling with everyone who showed up at the party to ensure everyone was having a great time. The Mana cupcakes, Mana brownies, and Mana soaked fruit were a big hit. Grandpa Melvin ate a cupcake so he could shoot fireworks up in the air from his fingertips. That kept the small children quiet and entertained. The party seemed to be a going well except for the macaroni salad.
“Attention,” Henry interrupted everyone’s conversation. “I want to thank everyone for making it out to Alex’s Power Up party. We are excited to learn what the future holds for our intelligent and talented son. We will not make you wait any longer. Alex, can you join me and your mother down here please?” The silence was deafening as he walked towards us. His father handed him his first can of cherry Mana Bull, a combination of Mana Drink mixed with an energy drink.
“Thanks Dad,” Alex said quietly, popping the top. He fidgeted slightly because all eyes were on him. This was the moment that would make his future. He held up the can as if to toast the swallowed a big gulp.
We waited for several minutes for something to happen. But nothing did. Suddenly Alex shouted in celebration. “What is it son?” my husband questioned. “Are you feeling your feet lifting up? Do you have the gift?”
“No father,” Alex answered in excitement. “I- froze- time.”
“What?” someone called out from the crowd. “I don’t believe it. No one has that power.”
“Oh yeah,” Alex replied proudly. “While you were all frozen, I drew smiley faces with a sharpie on everyone’s hand. Don’t believe me, then check your hand.”
A murmur fell over the crowd as they showed off their hands and clapped. I’ve never been so proud in my entire life. “I’m going to be popular in school,” he whispered in my ear as he gave me a hug. “Thanks for your words of encouragement, Mom.”
A big black helicopter interrupted our celebration as men in army green colored clothes began to descend onto our party. They held the guests at gun point to my terror. “What is this?” Henry demanded with his hands up. Alex had been shuttled away from us.
“Mister and Misses Meyer,” he addressed us. “My name is Leroy Smith, Sergeant Major of the US army. We are here for your son.”
| It was the day of the Testing, and the crowds were already gathering at the temple when Livia and Telum joined the queue. The buzz of anticipation was palpable - discovering your Ability was a rite of passage for all teenagers, and finding out that you were attuned to Strength or Mind could really open doors. The Guild of Construction paid good wages for Strong candidates, while Wise candidates were prized by most guilds.
Livia shivered, taking in the scale of it all. Telum leaned closer. “It’s ok, love - you’ll do fine. You just have to go in, the priests walk you up to the device, and mark down the result. Nothing to it!” she said, smiling.
“I hope I’m Body, like you” Livia said, weakly returning the grin. “How does the device even work, anyway?”
“Oh, that’s a matter for the priests,” said Telum with a shrug of her shoulders. “Your father once tried to tell me - something about sympathetic resonance - but it all went over my head, I’m afraid. He’s the Wise one in this family.”
The line moved closer to the door, at which a priest was stationed with a set of papers. “Name?” the priest questioned, as they arrived at the head of the queue. “Livia Karasi” Livia responded, which the priest searched his stack for. “Karasi… Karasi… ah yes. Mother Telum, Body; Father Kuval, Mind?” Livia nodded. The priest handed her the piece of paper. “Straight through the doors please,” he commanded. Livia turned to her mother, who smiled at her. “I’ll see you on the other side,” said Telum, giving Livia a quick hug.
Livia timidly walked through the heavy temple doors, which looked like they’d been hewn from huge pieces of stone. *How did they even move?* she pondered briefly, but there was no time for incisive thought. The doors gave way to a huge room, at the centre of which was an ornate device, fashioned from metal. Different coloured gems were dotted around the device, and at the centre Livia could see some whirring machinery. An orb extended from the device on a substantial metal arm.
“Shall I take that, dear?” A voice startled Livia. She turned to find a priest with a kindly face, who held his hand outstretched. She handed over the piece of paper wordlessly.
“It’s impressive, isn’t it?” commented the priest, as he ushered her towards the device. “Michiko the Wise created this over five hundred years ago. The important parts are made out of thaumite, of course, but the gems are also particularly rare examples… Are we ready, Aqdas?”
One of the priests examining the device looked up, and nodded. “Ok… Livia”, the priest read from the paper in his hand, “please approach the device and place your hands on the orb. A gem will glow when you do so, which will indicate what Ability you have. Once we’re done, you can proceed through to the exit hall.”
Livia took a deep breath, and stepped up to the orb. She placed her hands on the orb and closed her eyes. As soon as her hands touched the orb, she felt an energy *flowing* up her arms, which covered her entire body in a warm fuzzy feeling.
Around her, the priests gasped. “What’s wrong?” Livia asked, hesitantly, not opening her eyes.
“The gems,” Aqdas whispered.
“They’re all glowing...” | 2017-07-15T05:49:14 | 2017-07-15T05:48:12 | 77 | 41 |
[WP] It's a well known fact that Iron nullifies magic. Humans, with their iron-rich blood, are walking anti-magic. They can't use magic, but they're also immune to it. | The Queen's scryer looks through the portal onto the Earth Beyond the Veil. The spell was weak due to the prevalence of iron in the world. No, not just the world. In the humans themselves.
Countless ages had been spent watching the humans as they advanced in their unnatural magics, using metal and wood to do the things that any child with training could do with magic.
The theory was proposed that the humans on the other side of the veil did this to themselves, they bonded themselves somehow with iron in order to protect themselves from something... worse.
Then what would possibly be on the other side of the veil that magic could not handle? The leylines were still there, and fonts of magical radiance still sprouted across the world, but the humans merely... ignored it, or were blind to it entirely! So much untapped and uncontrolled magic that could easily be claimed.
It was against all codes and rules, of course to try to pierce the veil, the humans were blind to magic and showed no aptitude to it themselves, but that doesn't mean that aren't affected by it. All that needed to be done was to create one portal and send enough battle casters across to make sure the humans could not hold them back with their primitive weapons. At the next full moon they would strike, against the Queen's wishes.
\--------------------------------------
Incident report: Officer Pepper.
Seattle Metropolitan Police Department.
05/07/2020
Begin report:
At approximately 1600 I was dispatched to respond to a large gathering of cosplayers who set up a 'gate' at 1st and Pike Place Market. I arrived at approximately 1610 and made contact with the individuals. First individual was clearly intoxicated and refused commands to put his staff away. As backup arrived I tased the individual and placed him in custody. Identity is still being confirmed.
After this initial confrontation the remianing cosplayers continued to point wooden weapons at me in an attempt to, as they called it, cast spells. When individuals started hurling Molotov coctails at officers we engaged with our side arms, wounding four before hostilities ceased. Individuals attempted to flee through the gate that they erected, but instead fled into the city.
Gate was cemented into place and all attempts at this time to move it have proved ineffective. Interrogations with the individuals yealds the same story and as of right now all individuals refuse to answer any questions truthfully.
\----------------------------------
"As soon as the humans started gathering around the gate, My Lord, the magic ceased to work. I'm afraid that all the battle mages in the kingdom are lost." | The human approached me, his sword level. Across that sadist's face was a grintoothed smile that spoke of the rape and horror to come. Man was no friend to magi.
I concentrated, and then wove and ice spike his way. The projectile gleaned purple, and then exploded into a million fragments upon impact with the iron chest plate.
​
Shit.
​
I racked my brain. Memories of lessons at the Arcanium. Long hours spent in the study of magical essence and its ability to warp reality. All that work and a natural affinity for spellweaving, wasted. Wasted by a sheet of iron.
​
Oh wait.
​
With the flick of my hand, I ignited the ground around the knight in a torrent of flame. | 2020-05-07T16:25:44 | 2020-05-07T15:25:02 | 377 | 123 |
[WP] You're about to test mankind's first hyperspace spaceship. You make the jump, and it works! But to your surprise, you now find yourself bumper-to-bumper in alien hyperspace traffic. | It was weird. One moment you fear for your life, not knowing if you will die after you start the engines and take off to space. Everyone around the world is biting their nails, hoping for a successful launch. You sit there, nervously, waiting for the green light to take off into space. Not knowing where you will end up. Well, at least, not knowing what exactly you will encounter, because NASA and some other organizations, of course, made some predictions about your flight pattern. Maybe you will encounter an Alien traffic jam, you think jokingly. You wake up from your daze when you hear the NASA command center in your ear. "Everything alright in there, Adrien?" they ask.
"Yes, I'm fine, just dozed off for a moment, sorry," you answer them.
"It's alright, but keep your head in the game. We have no way of precisely predicting what you are going to encounter on your journey."
"Yes, I know, I'm just nervous."
"We understand. Now back to the launch, for as far as we are concerned, we are proceeding with the launch in T-10 minutes."
"Copy that"9 minutes later, you hear over the radio that they have started the countdown.
"10.. 9.. 8.. 7.. 6.. 5.. 4.. 3.. 2.. 1.."
And there you go, as the first-ever human to use a Hyperspace Spaceship, with no clue if you will survive the trip. When you get out of the Exosphere, you take a deep breath before switching open the safety cap of the Hyperspace button and making a last call to the Command Centre back on earth; "Entering Hyperspace in 3, 2, 1". And you press the button.
At first, you don't feel much, but then you see colors and light warping around you. You start feeling sick. Before you know it, you are in the Hyperspace. You check your radio, but it doesn't seem to connect to the Command Center on earth. You try turning the frequency when you suddenly hear strange sounds. You become so invested in the radio and those weird sounds that you don't see what is happening around you. It is almost too late; you are bumper to bumper with other Hyperspace vehicles. Your first thought is breaking, but in a panic, you forget which button is for stopping the vehicle, if it even had such effective brakes. NASA had prepared for a lot of things, but not for a Hyperspace traffic jam! But before it is too late, it seems like your spaceship is holding an automatic distance from the one before you. It seems like... something is pushing it away, so you don't crash into it. Then, moments later, you see a spaceship that suspiciously resembles a police car coming your way and starting to move parallel to you.
They seem to be speaking into a mic, but you don't hear anything. Then it seems like they start to understand something. The two Aliens look at each other and start -what seems like- laughing and facepalming. They attach something to your vehicle and pull you out of this weird Hyperspace 'traffic jam', all the while you are confused at what the heck is happening.
After they pull you out of the stream of other vehicles, it seems like they want to connect to you and walk so you can talk to them. With wide eyes and still not knowing what is happening, you start the process for docking, and you open the hatch for them to come in. For a moment, you are scared but also very proud because you are possibly the first one ever to make contact with an Alien. Although you don't know yet if this is a good thing, you hope for the best. You check if the dashcam is still working and recording, which it does, and turn it around to face the hatch.
The two Aliens come in and start speaking, or at least you think they are speaking because you can't understand anything. One of the Aliens facepalms and grabs what looks like a small box with many buttons on it. He presses some random buttons and starts speaking again; this time, you can understand it.
"So, can you understand me now, creature?" he says
"Y-Yes, I can," you say shakily
“Don't worry. We are not going to attack you. Tell us, is this your first time here?"
“Wh-Who are you guys?" You ask, even though you have a suspicion
“We are Hyperspace Patrol. We ensure that everything is safe in the Hyperspace. We picked up a new signal when you entered Hyperspace, which means that you are probably from a Civilization new to space travel. Are we correct?"
You nodded slowly. "Yes, that is correct. I am the first one on my planet to enter Hyperspace.""Ah, so we were correct. I have a question. Would you mind following us to our HQ so that we can figure things out?"
"No, I wouldn't mind. The only thing is that I don't know how to get there since, you know, this is my first time here."
The officer nodded understandably. "I get that, and we have special protocols for cases like this. One of us will stay with you, while the other will take your spaceship on tow to our HQ."
"Ok," you say, "let's go then."
[edit: duplicated a paragraph whoops] | Lieutenant Colonel Julia Hernandez checked the proximity sensors one last time to ensure that everything was clear for the jump. No object with a mass over ten milligrams was detected within a kilometer of the ship. That was the last item on the checklist. "Starhawk one to Mission Control, I am Green for hyperspace transition."
It took forty-one seconds for the response to come back. "Acknowledged Starhawk. We are all Green here. You have a Go for transition. Godspeed." All Julia had to do at this point was push a button. She was really only there for situations that the computer could not handle. If a situation came up that the computer couldn't handle she was screwed, but public relations demanded that a human pilot be on board for the first interstellar hop. There was no reason why the button push couldn't trigger immediately, but again public relations demanded that it trigger a countdown. "Three. Two. One. Transition."
\-----------------------------------
The scientists had said that the hyperspace transition would be instantaneous, that there was theoretically nothing for a human to notice, that one second she'd be in the Sol System, and the next would be in a far orbit around Gamma Crucis with no sensation to betray it other than the change of instrumentation. The scientists were fucking liars.
To be fair, none of them had ever had their insides flipped through eleven extra dimensions. Or maybe the Theoretical group never bothered to have a conversation with the Actually Going To Build It group. Fortunately Lt. Col. Hernandez had spent two decades testing experimental high acceleration ships, so she was only out of it for a few seconds.
"Alert. Mass Detected," the computer immediately informed her. She must have popped out near something. The destination had been unchartable by even the best Sol-based scopes, so that's not too surprising. "Alert. Multiple Masses Detected." That seemed like an unlikely coincidence, as this far from the star there should be megameters between objects. "Alert. Incoming ship on collision course. Executing avoidance maneuvers." All this was before Julia had a chance to grok the instrument display in front of her.
Obviously the computer had made a mistake in thinking that an incoming mass was a ship. Probably just a comet. Since nothing was charted here, it would assign any large enough mass a ship designation. The orbital trace of the colliding object was no longer on a collision course. But then the orbital trace changed to match the Starhawk's - it was a ship. She double checked the other masses. They were all ships, decelerating towards a large mass over a gigameter starward.
Fortunately the contingency plans had been very clear on this situation: immediately bug-out and preserve data so that somebody else could make the hard decision. "Starhawk, initiate emergency return." Some idiot had included a countdown on the emergency return, but at least this gave Julia a chance to prepare to have her insides be on the outside again. "Three. Two. One. Transition."
\--------------------------------------
Officer Gorx looked at his partner, Bob. "Looks like that unregistered ship blipped out."
"Let me see if we caught a hyperspace trace," Bob said, flicking a tentacle across the control board. "Here it is. Should we pursue?"
"Take another look at that trace, Bob. Unknown ship configuration. Rudimentary seven-dim hyperspace window. And it goes to a yellow dwarf system marked quarantine-restricted."
"Blerk-Feces. It's a Primitive. I suppose we have to report it? That's going to be a lot of paperwork." | 2021-09-13T13:38:56 | 2021-09-13T11:59:37 | 98 | 39 |
[WP] As the hero enters the throne room of the dark lord. The throne is empty and the hero's companion says with a grin " Well this has been delightful but I'm afraid the fun is now over.". | With a satisfying *SHLUNK*, the WyrmBeast falls to the floor. I wipe its blood off my vorpal blade and quickly crouch at Ryn's side.
"No..." I breathe, watching her lithe body for some sign of life. She had managed one last spell - *Wind of Flame* - before I heard her scream, piercing and full of fear, as the demonling had charged her. I hadn't had a chance to see what had happened, had prayed that the spell had stopped the creature before it could corrupt her...
"Ryn, please...we're so close...this is the last door."
It was strange. She clearly was not breathing, but her robes were intact, there was no Glyph of Darkness on her head. But if she had not succumbed to the cursed bite of the demonling, what had killed her?
I bow my head. "Please, Ryn," I whisper, "Don't die." Warm wetness wells up in my eyes; a single tear fall from my face. It glistens in the dim torchlight, fragile and pure, and lands mutely on the mage's cheek. My comrade-in-arms. My companion. My *friend*.
Impossibly, her eyelids fly open, and I see the vibrant jade of her irises looking up at me. Her face twitches for a moment, and then...she laughs.
It is an awful sound. A harsh cackle that echoes off the walls of the catacombs. She pauses to catch her breath, then begins anew.
My hand tightens on the hilt of my weapon. Could I have missed the sign somehow? Or is this some other curse that is taking her over? A ward of madness placed on the spell book we had found in the alchemist's quarters, perhaps...
And still, the laughing - the cackling - continues, wracking her delicate frame. Tears stream down her face. She gasps, "I'm...I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."
Releasing my weapon, I brush back her hood, the ebon tresses lost in the black cloth. "Why? What are you sorry for?"
"I tried. I really, really did. I kept a straight face through your whole, stupid speech. And *wow*, what a speech it was. When they taught you swordsmanship, did they also train you in words to say to your fallen comrade? Because, I mean...you ticked all the boxes, Straumn, you really did."
Her voice changed to a soprano simper. "No, please, oh, we're so close, oh, don't die, oh Ryn, oh gosh, I'm going to cry..."
She smirked. "I was this close. *This* close to keeping it together. And then you *cried* on me! Your big dopey tear splashed on me and part of it went up my nose! I mean...come ON! I may be the Dark Lady of Myr Tower, but I'm not made of *stone*!"
I stared at her, agape.
"Oh, geez. You still hadn't figured it out? Here, let me help you connect the dots."
Before I could react, the copper doors to my left burst open, and air sucked us into the room inside.
"See? Nobody home," she said, gesturing broadly at the empty throne on the dais against the far wall. "But I did want to thank you for helping me identify vulnerabilities in my defenses and weeding out the weakest of my followers. This really has been delightful - but I'm afraid the fun is now over."
The room goes black and I hear her begin to chant.
* * *
/r/ShadowsofClouds | "No, you can't be..."
He laughed. Not the rich hearty laugh that she'd come to love. This one was cold. Empty. Devoid of any emotion.
Scratch that. It was full of one. Malice. "Oh, but I can, and I am." he laughed again, drawing his sword and pointing it at her throat. "And now, you are all alone."
"But... this doesn't make any sense. You. You helped me get here."
"Of course I did!" he said as if explaining this to a slow child. "To get you here alone."
"We killed your generals together. We... we stopped your army. You mean to tell me all of that was to get me alone? Why?"
"To kill you. Of course."
He turned his back on her, laughing again. She was angry. Humiliated. Confused. The collection of feelings were all melding inside of her. Slowly, an impish grin spread across her face, the kind that only a woman could wear when she knew she had her prey cornered. "That's really too bad for you."
He turned back to look at her, an eyebrow raised. "How do you figure?
She was laughing now.
"What's so funny?" he shouted. Angry.
She laughed louder, cackling now.
His rage was apparent now. He swung his sword at her, missing by a few inches, yet she continued to laugh at him. To taunt him. "What's so damn funny?!"
"I was gonna rock your world," she said, sneering. "When we stopped this, I was gonna give you a night you would never forget."
"I--uh--what?" he said, lowering his sword in confusion. That was always the curse of men. It wasn't hubrus, vanity or greed. It was lust. Simple. Animalistic. Basic.
"Well," she said, drawing her crossbow and aiming it at his heart. "This has been delightful, but I'm afraid the fun is now over."
*edit for formatting. | 2018-01-23T15:54:33 | 2018-01-23T14:54:45 | 79 | 27 |
[WP] The year is 2030, and the entire world is firmly under the control of the Australian Empire, and no one really understands how it happened. | The last try had just been scored. The Queen let out a tear, then ordered Prince Phillip to shoot her, before the "colonial dogs and dregs got to her." Twickenham was on fire. Rioting was breaking out. The Wallabies had just finished conquering the known world.
Lets rewind a few years.
The Trans Pacific Partnership, a massive legalese document meant to do certain things, then cancerously tumoured into something else. Certain things about "investor state disputes" and various intellectual property agreements.
This was the beginning of the end. Many treaties like this spanned every country on the world map.
It started slowly. Countries were on guard against technology and pharmaceutical firms. Against Basketball and Soccer companies. But nobody expected the Australians to use Rugby. There was a series of landmark court cases which revealed a number of damning truths:
1. That no country could legally refuse to play Rugby against Australia.
2. That the intellectual property penalties were so high that infringing them would immediately bankrupt any country.
3. That a "competitive match for the assets of an organisation" counted as a legally binding wager.
When Australia played Rugby against your national side, you were wagering your entire sporting IP. When you lost, it was now owned by Australia. However, historical infringements totalled into the quadrillions of dollars and now Australia owned your country.
It started with Japan. The US fell early. Asia Pacific went under although Fiji, Tonga and Samoa were placed under blockade until their players succumbed to famine. Africa was easy going apart from the Springboks, til a final, 50 minutes of overtime, sudden death with four actual deaths games in Pretoria ended with a single drop kick.
The Americas fell, unable to scrounge anyone better than Argentina. Asia just surrendered. Europe was the last bastion. A hard fought campaign was launched from Eastern Europe, with Russia trusting to a Siberian winter to slow the Wallabies down. No dice.
Sweeping down over Germany, the Australians were stumped by the neutral Swiss, who in a cunning plan had blown up all their sports grounds, the scheming French who were unable to field an injury free team for five years (STDs were ruled as legal reasons not to play), and the Italians, who couldn't commit to a single time.
But eventually two of them fell and the Swiss were ignored.
Spain was on a Siesta, and the Ireland got shamrock and rolled. Wales put up a stunning defence, but the Dragon was slain. Scotland came with kilts and claymores, but despite slaughtering 50 Wallabies under a creative interpretation of the rules, still lost the game.
The Last Bastion: England. Twickenham, the Home of Rugby. The Lions vs the Wallabies. Queen Elizabeth the Second's mechasuit was there, and she played her heart out, literally, before being subbed to have her remaining organic components operated on. The English and the Aussies had a blistering game. High scoring, action packed and dramatically close. With 30 seconds to go, the Aussies got a final Try, giving them a 2 point lead at 80 minutes.
Australia now controlled the world. And so it lasted for decades.
Australia schools flourished under the one world Rugby government. Sciences and Arts grew. Health increased massively, and a race of supermen and women appeared. Everything was going fine. Nobody was disappearing at the hands of the secret police. There was no talk of a "blacked out nation". Everything was good. By law.
Let us move forward in history. 2099. Australia has controlled the world for nearly 70 years. The conquest is taught in schools. Heavily sanitised for the children of course. Bazza Bazzason was sitting in class, looking through some old books. Atlases from before the Uniting. Curious at the comparison, he took it to his teacher. "Miss, what's this country here?" The teacher looked over, then, in shock, as she was secretly an agent for the ministry of truth, grabbed a Vivid and scrubbed over the offending atlas with black ink.
"Bazza, that's not a country that exists. It was an error. We know now that it's just water there." The lie to a child was easy. The lie to herself was harder. Black Vivid. A Blacked Out Country. Black Bagging for talking about it. Black Sites. And yet, these were not the fearful things. The country really did exist. The single country that the Wallabies had been unable the conquer. Maybe it was prophetic that their warriors were called 'the Originals', 'the Invincibles'. They had a terrifying stance, and fearful intimidation rituals.
From the blacked out country they came: The All Blacks. | September 4, 2030. The 24th anniversary of Steve Irwin's death. What a great time to be alive as an Australian. In 2006, when Steve Irwin was killed, the Australian government lost their most valuable asset in World Domination. For years the Australian people have wanted revenge on the world for sending their ancestors to this god-forsaken land. The years following Steve's death were a rough time for Australia. We had increasing incidents of kangaroo attacks, cane-toad infestation, and high-cost goods and services. It was safe to say that it was a shit-hole during this time. It wasn't until the 2028 election when Hugh Jackman was somehow elected prime minister by popular vote. The people were tired of the country's situation and wanted some immediate change. Nothing had been working for years and many people were calling for political reform. Prime Minister Jackman won with his amazing policies that he stated were derived from his knowledge of Hollywood business. Considering the success of President Trump and President Reagan, the people decided that maybe Prime Minister Jackman could actually save them.
After his election, he quickly began bringing his ideas to life. He wanted exactly what the rest of Australia wanted: revenge. Although the idea was shared, the idea that Jackman had in mind was unbelievable. During speeches Jackman had frequently joked about taking over the world as a way to seek revenge. Nobody thought that he had literally wanted to take over the world! People had thought he had an economic takeover planned. Why would they think otherwise when he was constantly bragging about his great business ideas and good looks? In his mind, there was only one way to get the revenge that he wanted. He had to overthrow the most powerful country in the world. The United States of America.
It was not evident how he was going to do this for his first year of power. Many people were upset at his frequent visits to the United States for "business trips", and his lack of ability to get anything done in the country. Once word of the goofball got to the rest of the world, memes started being made about Jackman and his corruption. With no way to remove him from power, the people sat helplessly waiting for the next federal election.
It wasn't until August 16th, 2029, when TMZ released a paparazzi video filmed outside of Jackman's Miami beach house which showed Prime Minister Jackman and President Trump in a bedroom together without any clothes. When word got out, it was time. Soon the announcement was broadcast over all American and Australian media that the United States of America and the Commonwealth of Australia would be merging in to the Australian Empire. Prime Minister Hugh Jackman quickly announced President Ivanka Trump as his Deputy Prime Minister and their quest for revenge began.
I can't really say that electing Hugh Jackman was a bad idea. Australians having the entire world to themself with all of those bloody foreigners stuck on that wasteland of an island isn't too bad after all. | 2017-02-14T11:56:22 | 2017-02-14T10:32:54 | 635 | 44 |
[WP] A law is enacted making trial by combat the only legal tool available to anyone for any dispute. An arms race for mercenary fighters heats up between Corporations, celebrities, and governments. You fight for Wendys. | I stared down my opponent. She was a nondescript woman -- short hair, a bit overweight, average height, probably in her late 30s or early 40s. She looked nervous...but most do. Her complaint said that there was some kind of issue with the way her wages had been calculated. Total damages had amounted to something like $100.
"Hardly enough to get your ass kicked over," I thought. "Hell, she could've brought this in small claims court, and we'd only be fighting to first blood."
I cracked my scarred knuckles as the judge went through a reminder of some of the rules. I'd heard it enough times that I could probably do the spiel from memory. When he wrapped up, he picked up his gavel.
"Defendant ready?" his voice boomed over the loudspeaker as he pointed my gavel at me.
"Ready." I didn't look away from my opponent's eyes.
Before he could say anything else, a tall, wiry man ran up to the ring. "WAIT! WAIT!" he called out. "Sorry I'm late. On behalf of the Plaintiff, I hereby request class certification!"
"Oh, shit," I thought. I looked as over half of the audience stood up.
"This is a class-action lawsuit now," he said, looking at me. Pointing at a rotund man walking from the spectator seating up to the ring, he said, "This is Jack Anderson. Mr. Anderson was underpaid by $740. He hereby demands trial by combat to recover the aforementioned damages".
The wiry man went on for nearly a half-hour and people kept filtering into the ring. Now I was the one who was nervous -- and the mob of people standing across from me looked just as intimidating as I tried to look earlier. The defense attorney messing with his phone; he wouldn't even look at me.
"Finally, Catherine Yancey, who was underpaid by $304.79. She hereby demands trial by combat to recover the aforementioned damages," the plaintiff's attorney concluded.
The judge looked at the huge crowd of plaintiffs, then at me, then at the defense attorney. He turned off his mic. "Son, I can give you a recess so that you can settle."
The defense attorney smirked. "No need, your honor. We're invoking Rule 19. The terms of payment are, in many cases, mandated by contracts that we have with our franchisors. The court will be unable to provide complete relief, because these franchisors are necessary parties. I don't know if you're aware, but last year we won a contract to put restaurant franchises on military bases. Thus, the US Army will be joining this action as our co-defendant." | "Hotdogs! Hotdogs here!"
Weary combatants staggered over for the third day in a row. The numbers were thinning and everyone left was clearly exhausted.
"Mustard?"
"Thanks. I'm so sorry you have to do this but we all thank you."
They looked terrible. Ruined.
"The water! It's free. Christ. For all of you, it's free today."
Eyes lit up and I knew it was the right thing to do even though corporate will be on my ass about the loss. We sponsored this shit and that's how we stayed out of it. But obviously it doesn't work that way.
We keep operating as we always do, so the salmonella was clearly kicking in and these clueless sods deserved a drink. I don't get paid enough for this shit. | 2017-06-09T09:42:54 | 2017-06-09T07:18:39 | 71 | 12 |
[WP] After hearing complaints countless times the hero just turns himself in and goes to prison. Now that the villains are destroying the city and running wild everyone is trying the convince the hero to come out and save the day. But the hero is not having any of this shit | “No no it’s fine” I said, as I swung both my feet on top of my bunk.
“Stop being so passive-aggressive” squealed the mayor.
He tried to talk to me in the morning but I wasn’t having it coz it was the first morning in years I was having a peaceful sleep. He was back again in the evening this time with a different tactic to convince me. I stole a glance towards him. I couldn’t help but smile to myself. How do I say this in a nice way? Actually there was no nice way to say it. The mayor resembled a pig. A big pig in an expensive blue suit. It didn’t help that his voice was so high that it sounded like he was squealing. Not only that, but when he would belch out his speeches he’d get all puffy and pink and that’s when he really resembled a pig.
“I really don’t like your attitude” the mayor said this time in a low register.
I dismissed my thoughts aside as my temper flared up and I jumped off the bunk and in two quick strides reached the bars where the mayor was standing on the other side. My sudden demeanor startled him as he took two steps back.
“I HAVE THE ATTITUDE PROBLEM?!” I roared. “I’M BEING PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE??? Day in, day out I’m being blamed for buildings, cars, and roads getting destroyed yet no one bats an eye when it’s a villain doing it. And it’s not like I’m doing it because I want to. I try my best to take my battles outside of this city but I have to make do with what I got. My efforts are in vain. I don’t want lavish parties for my efforts but a simple thank you or acknowledgement would suffice for my work but no! I’m asked to go to jail for my “crimes”. Well here I am!
I take a step back and in a dramatic gesture take a sweeping bow.
My mayor shifted his feet, nervously. “I-“
“Isn’t this what YOU wanted?” I cut him off.
“What the people wanted! Well have at it then.”
I turned my back towards him.
“The hospitals are filled to the brim with injured victims. Please. I’ll change the laws. I’ll prosecute anyone who says anything about you. I’ll give you a mansion. I’ll have servants at your beck and call.” The mayor pleaded.
I ignored his pleas. “Nah I’m just done.” I turned back to him and grinned. “You don’t need a hero. That’s what you’ve always said, haven’t you?”
The mayor opened his mouth to speak but closed it again and looked down at his shoes.
I was tired of playing this cat and mouse game.
“GUARD!” I shouted loudly, startling the mayor.
“Please take away this pi... mayor. No actually I have no shame in finally saying it.”
As the guard came up to escort the mayor back, I finally had the guts to say it to the mayor’s face.
“Goodbye pig!”
And the face the mayor made gave me the much needed satisfaction I had been craving for such a long long time. | I hated this. i hated them, i hated the villains, i hated that they only wanted me around when i was useful. after all, who needs someone with invulnerability, super strength, energy blasts and telekinesis around when they might potentially dent your car when they are fighting the villain Unofli, a crazed genius? snorting derisively, i put my legs up on the counter and looked the mayor dead in they eye, and told him to piss off. after all, i might "BrEaK a WiNdOw" when i'm fighting someone who can burn everything at a touch? or possibly when i'm trying to incapacitate someone who can teleport anywhere they can see? but noooooo, i have to go to jail because i'm the wrongdoer not those villains. y'know, i might actually join them. certainly a better life, that's for sure. who knows, might actually have fun, or at least as much as i can since Unofli experimented on me and robbed me of all emotions, leaving only an empty husk. spitting, i get up, blow a hole through the wall, then leave. i hated this. i hated them. but now, thay might fear me. possibly even worship me if they might continue living. i don't think i'd hate that. no, i don't think i would. this town had no more use for me, and i for them. | 2021-03-18T22:36:26 | 2021-03-18T19:31:21 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] You are a detective in 1890 Austria. The man inside the interrogation room claims to have an incredible secret that will exonerate him from his murder charge. You can't imagine what monster would murder a 1 year old child, let alone one as adorable as young Adolf Hitler was. | His name was Werner Grenwald, and he had thirty-two perfectly aligned teeth.
I got to know this pleasant fact because the first time I met him, he was screaming. From the moment they brought him in until the moment I finally escorted him out, he did not stop screaming.
Instead we took lunch in my office on the third floor. He was still in cuffs, of course, but I had the impression that even if he were free, he would not run.
His behavior was most curious.
You see, I was a detective. I had been trained to pick up on the littlest things, and there was quite a lot to pick up. For instance, Mr. Grenwald made a very conscious effort not to touch his feet to the floor. In the same vein, he would wince if I ever touched him with my right glove or if he brushed the left arm of his chair. There were a multitude of these little ‘micro-evasions’, as I’d come to call them: and in combination they turned this man into a writhing shape of fear and discomfort.
His first words were these:
“I did not believe that the Austrian police would resort to such savagery in this day and age.”
Those words remain with me still. But in that time I was brash and young, and I responded with all of the usual bravado.
“What could you possibly mean? I bring you up here for tea and a chat and you accuse me of savagery?”
He gestured with his head in his wincing, flitting way: “Not you, not now. Down there.”
“The questioning room?”
“The interrogation room,” he said. With such conviction. Such certainty. “The torture room.”
I didn’t let his knowledge faze me. “Ah, so you have an uncle in the police force. Yes, we have had to resort to some rather uncivilized tactics in recent days—but you cannot be civil with the criminal element. For example, with the type of element that kills children?”
“I did not kill a child,” he said.
“Ah, but you did.”
“A child is but a slice, you understand?”
I didn’t. We were talking about murder, not bratwurst. “No, I don’t take your meaning.”
“A child is just one slice. Time *t*, a part. Instantaneous. I didn’t kill a child,” he said. “I killed a person.”
I called for two coffees and relished at the sight of this delusional murderer trying and failing to drink with cuffed hands. I do regret that slice of me, now.
“So you admit you killed a person. Case closed, yes?”
“It was in self-defense.”
Interesting. “So little Adolf had a knife to your neck?”
“No, he had a shower-head.”
The clerk came around with a few sandwiches, and Werner winced as if the meat were a hot stove. “Do you have anything vegetarian?”
“Eat your meat or eat nothing.”
The man fell silent, still squirming in his seat.
I resumed my line of questioning. “So tell me, what actual motive could you possibly—”
“I’d like you to touch me.”
I’d been warned of the homosexual epidemic in Braunau, but I never thought I’d come to face it myself. “I’m sorry?”
“I want you to touch me, please, on the cheek.”
I got up from my chair. Oh, I would touch him. I would touch him upon the jaw with four knuckles and all the weight of an ex-soldier. As I moved to strike he gasped, “No, please. Without the glove.”
And then I grew curious.
I removed the leather glove and touched him on the cheek. He had no hair, there. He was barely a man, maybe fifteen years old. God. Children killing children on our streets, how horrid.
His eyes glazed over for a moment and he whispered, “You were born in the capital. Your father named you Reinhardt Hertz but your mother calls you Bärchen.” How did he know all this? What reason would anyone have to spy on—“You were a soldier but you hated killing. However, you enjoyed the violence. And so you became a constable here at this very station.” How? “Your children will be named Werner and Wilhelmina, and you will die in 1917 from the shock of seeing your son go to war.”
“What are you?”
“I see people, Detective.” His eyes flickered, like an addict’s. “I don’t see slices, I see people.”
“And you killed in self defense?”
“I killed in self defense. In the defense of others. I see people, and Adolf Hitler is a bad person. He kills all of us. Do you understand?”
“No. I don’t.”
His pupils were fully dilated, two deep dark holes. I wondered what they saw.
“This armchair is an antique, built in 1456. Three years ago, your colleagues beat an innocent man to death on this very floor. And many decades from now, after one Great War too many,” he said, “Adolf Hitler murders twelve million people.”
I had nothing to say.
But the chief had plenty. He said an admitted child-murderer was a simple case, and a decent hanging would secure his post for another year or more. He would have none of this talk of 'people' and 'slices' and 'self-defense'. Preposterous, all of it.
I will never forget Werner Grenwald’s face as he felt the hemp brush against his cheek. I understood then what he was seeing, what he felt before he went. He died a thousand deaths before his final passing—perhaps more.
And I will never forget what he told me before he left. A whisper in my ear:
“Oh, the world seems unjust now, I know,” he said. “But, this is but a slice, time *t*, a part. I’ve *seen* the world whole, Detective. I've made it so. And it is nothing to fear.”
***
**EDIT:** Wow, I've been getting a lot of requests for more of my work—and I am super flattered. Thank you! To make it easier on everyone I thought I might just post it here: all of my published work can be found at [**KabirCreates.Com.**](http://kabircreates.com)
Hopefully this edit isn't against the rules? If so, let me know and I'll get rid of it right away. Again, thank you all for reading! | "If you're trying to get taken to the asylum for this," I replied, "it won't work. You *will* be hanged. So how about you tell us where you're really from. At least we can notify your family that way."
"I'm telling you, I'm from the future!" the assassin shouted.
"Oh yeah, what year?"
"2032."
I laughed. "Come on, man, everyone knows time travel isn't invented until 2349."
His face turned ashen. "Wait, what?"
"2349, dude. You never read a history book? So who you with? History Correction Movement? Jewish-Roma Rescue Alliance? Pacifists Interplanetary?"
"You --" he stammered -- "you already know about time travel? But... I invented it. And it *was* in 2032!"
Finally it clicked for me. I laughed out loud. The assassin looked like he was going to be sick. "Hey Hans, get in here!" I called down the hall. My partner came in, an eyebrow raised. "We've got an Independent!" I said.
"Whoa. We haven't had one of those in years. How long before '349?" he asked.
"Get this, he says he's a 21st-century boy."
Hans whistled. "*Twenty-first*," he said, drawing the syllables out.
The assassin turned to the side and vomited. Hans and I looked on, unfazed. "So buddy," I said, "I'm assuming that when you cracked time-travel, you didn't leave your notes around for anyone to find before you left."
"No..." he trailed off.
"They never do," I said.
"Never do," Hans nodded.
"Course, if you had left their notes behind," I said to the assassin, "I guess that'd've been the date in the history books. Who knows how many folks like you there were pre-'349, who cracked the secret but left without telling anyone. Everyone always figures they'll find a way to jump back forward. And they never do. We've seen, what, two hundred Independents so far, Hans?"
"Two hundred twenty-one," Hans said.
"Two hundred twenty-one," I repeated. "And that's just us, in the 500 years we've been here. Who knows how many of you went back to kill Stalin, or Mao, or their ex-wife for that matter."
"What the fuck is going on?" muttered the assassin, mostly to himself.
"You wanna explain it?" I asked Hans.
"Nah, you can."
"You ever hear the idea that we live in the best of all possible worlds?"
"Isn't that what *Candide* was making fun of?" the assassin asked.
"Yep," I answered. "And it's a fucking stupid idea. Only thing is, it just happens to be true."
"Oh come on--"
"You see," I explained, cutting him off. "When someone comes back and kills Hitler, the timeline they create actually winds up being *worse* than the original. Don't blame me. I think it's fucked up. WWII and all the shit that come afterward shouldn't be the best-case scenario. But I didn't make the system. Take it up with the man upstairs.
"So yeah," I continued, "that timeline's worse. A lot worse. In the original timeline, you get time travel in 2349. It took our people until 3283. That should tell you something. But when we did figure it out, boy, we made good use of it."
The assassin snorted. "Made good use of it? You didn't even stop me."
I looked at the clock. Hans saw the time, and stepped out of the room. I cleared my throat. "Sir, you stand charged with the offense of attempting to interfere with the original timeline. Under the Preservation Act adopted by the Inter-Timeline Council in 3302, I am authorized to administer a judgment and a sentence of my own accord. As such, you are hereby convicted and sentenced to death. The sentence will be carried out 24 hours ago, by Agent Hans Pintscher of the --"
At that point I looked up, and noticed the assassin was already gone. His handcuffs lay empty on the table.
----
^(Edit: Thanks, everyone, for all the nice comments and the constructive criticism. To be honest, I didn't think out the time-travel science in too much detail. I think part of the point of writing prompts is to let your words flow without worrying about making the story "polished." If I wanted to turn this into a proper short story, I'd definitely clear up some of the underlying science, and also make the exposition a tad less clunky. Thanks again for all the kind words!) | 2015-03-30T00:49:55 | 2015-03-30T00:21:44 | 1,772 | 1,156 |
[WP] When you're in danger, time slows down. The more danger you're in, the more time slows down. You wake up and nothing is moving but you. | "Man, It feels like I slept in today, but my alarm didnt go off." I said grogged. I glanced at the clock 5:45 a.m. "Well I guess I'll get an early shower" I thought. My wife was fast asleep stiff as a board. I went into the bathroom and was quickly taken back that we had no pressure. I went down stairs and to my shock the floor was exploding.
I was born with a rare trait that the more dire the situation the slower time felt. However my heart was in my throat. I had never once seen time completely stop. I quickly grabbed my wife. But there was a problem.
For every step I took away from the exlosion there was a loud bit brief audible sound. Like someone pausing an action movie. I realized what ever talent or ability I had was pushing its limit stopping time for a couple hours. I started up the stairs every step a loud crash below. I assessed the situation and determined that that this gift was like stretching a rubber band. Every step it was about to break. "Should I run or go slower?" I asked. I flashed back to when my ability first manifested. My father and I were ice fishing. We were on too thin of ice in a early winter. Time slowed enough back then to keep me from falling in but when i tried to rush it, i opened up more ice and slowed time again. It wasnt until I relaxed that I made it out.
"Just like back then, I gotta keep cool." I started moving again slower, time resumed, but not as bad as the others. 5 more steps to go. The next step nothing happened. It was working. I took my time and made it to our bedroom. I grabbed my wife and started for the stairs. She was heavy, dead weight was. I slipped.
We both crashed and I heard her scream for a fraction of a second. I looked in horror and realized the exlosion now engulfed the stairs.
"Damn it! What am I going to do?"
The window or risk the exlosion? If i go to fast we will be both fried instantly. If i die in this state what would happen to the world? I tried the window.
It wouldnt budge. The house was warped from the explosion it had bent the frame of the window. Everytine I pulled too hard the loud screech came again. I had to go down through the fire. Before it was too late. I felt as if whatever gave me this ability was really wearing off. I felt dizzy and tired like i had been awake for a week straight. I put her on my shoulder this time and started the journey down. I reached and felt the fire. It was lifeless neither hot nor cold. Each step slower. My gift was a little stronger the closest to the flame, i felt it though, the gift taking its toll on my body. I worried when we started to walk out of the flame, would my gift hold up? The 2nd to last step i slipped the screech and fire for a millisecond raged. I had covered my wife but not myself. We were in an air pocket mostly but the left side of my face pounded. I let out a scream. My arm was visibly on fire. Lifeless but on fire. I brished it away and made the final step. 12 paces to the door. Worry and pain filled my body.
We made it to the door and outside. I felt the rubberband now it had nothing left, I felt like i was in the safe zone. I said screw it and ran. On the 2nd stride it busted.
The blast knocked me out for 3 weeks. I woke up in a hospital bed my wife with weepy eyes and covered in bandages saw me wake. She cried a happy cry of relief. I was burned on 40% of my body. We later found out it was a busted gas line in the morning.
Weeks into rehab an investigator for the fire department came by. He asked me how they got outside. I said I smelled gas and my wife was unconscious. He acted like he bought it. But as he was leaving he turned around and put on his hat and said. "Well maybe someday you can explain how the neighbors camera sees you appear in the middle of the front lawn 2 seconds before the exlplosion." | I don't know how you would classify some decisions in life. Was it bad if it brought you so much happiness, contentment at least? How could I have known the future? How could I expect things to change? I am middle-aged, a little grey, and the regret kills me. I guess it was a bad decision.
The morning stills to a photo. Beside me she sleeps and I love her. The years had taken our looks, dulled the minds, but never touched the passion. I love her. I touch her. She is still asleep. I think of all the memories we've had. I think of all our dreams. The world is still, too nice to be a photo, a painting maybe.
I don't want to get up. I turn a little. I look at her from all sides. Our bedroom is dark, full of morning shadows battling the just risen sun. It is the last sun I will be alive for.
The scent of everything kind of merges as it does when time gets like this. It is a pleasant smell. At first I am contented. Then I grow sad and I cry. I whisper to her, to calm myself, and it makes me feel worse. I have known her forever. She will only know me for part of forever. I feel sorry for her. I feel sorry for both of us.
There is no danger of course. Just bad decisions. Our room is peaceful. The day is bright. It is a wonderful day if not for what would soon happen. I feel guilty and blame myself. I am old now and who would have thought I would have something to live for? Who could imagine that taking a pull here and there would add up at the worst possible time? I have no one to blame but myself.
A few days ago the diagnosis had come. Cancer works fast. Even the frozen time cannot hold it. There is nothing to do really. I whisper more things until my voice cannot compose itself for words. I cry over her. Will those tears remain? Will they be the last remnants of me on her when I fade away? I kiss her, hoping it will last forever. I wish I could wake her and we could spend this eternal moment together, but it is mines and mines alone. And I feel alone.
I cannot tell you how long it lasts. There is hardly any danger. Only repercussions. The magic catches on and time moves again, slowly at first. Then it moves normally. A sharp pain takes me and it feels like the air is being taken out from within. My lungs are gone, and only their wheezy ghosts remain.
I think about waking her, but she doesn't need to see this. As much as I want her here, really here, I should save her the pain. She shouldn't suffer anymore for my bad decisions. I squeeze her hand softly and she stirs. The world fades as it awakens for her. | 2017-01-26T12:35:22 | 2017-01-26T07:58:37 | 27 | 14 |
[WP] Your wife passed away six months ago. Your car broke down two weeks ago. Your landlord evicted you four days ago. Someone took your seat on the bus this morning, and you just got laid off from your job. You've always promised to use your powers for good, until you snapped.. | (*Hey! So this is my second post ‘YEAH’ but I wanted to just change the prompt a tiny bit. It will be husband in my story. Hope that is alright and I hope you like the story – Trixie*)
This was it….this was the moment in my life that I knew would come. Why it had to be today I do not know but it was and now I had a choice.
Either walk away and be a good girl, like my loving Daniel would have wanted me to be….
Or give this world the hell it has thrown onto me.
Glancing around the office as I packed up my things from my desk I could hear his voice in the back of my head.
*”Please darling, don’t cry. Its ok. You will be ok on your own. Just promise me you will take care of yourself.”*
Take care of myself? I did. I took care of myself for days on end after he left me. The first time I took care of myself was when I left that hospital room six months ago. I went home to our now half empty house and actually force fed myself. I made myself go to bed and sleep after I cried my eyes out in private. I made myself get up and continue to live all because he had asked me to take care of myself.
But then two weeks ago my car, the car he kept fixed for us, went to hell and back. Then my shitty landlord, who can’t even lift a finger to fix the house we were paying to live in, decided that since I was alone now I couldn’t pay for the rent and he kicked me out just four days ago. Plus to top it off, even after all of that, I kept a smile on my face all while having a rude male on the bus take my seat this morning as I rode to work **ONLY** to be told I was **FIRED!!**
Yeah….I was taking care of myself. But they weren’t. No one else cared. No one cared that I just lost my husband, my best friend that I had ever since I was a freshman in high school. No one seen the pain I lived with every day when little things triggered a memory of him and how my life was before he passed. **NO ONE** even cared to see how I was after the incident. Yet they all could talk behind my back in soft whispers and concealed frowns about how it was ‘about time’ and ‘finally over for her’ as if I couldn’t hear.
Oh yeah, I could hear…I could hear everything and I could scent their hatred for me every time I walked around the office.
But wait, how can you hear whispers and what do you mean by scenting? I bet that’s what you're asking. Well….other than my loving Daniel no one else knows a little secret about me.
I'm a mutant.
Not like the movie type, where we know what happened to them or know about some destiny that they have to fulfill. No.
No the real type where I have a few extra abilities and I have kept them hidden for a very long time, never using them to harm or to hurt. Always to help. Yet now I can see that with all the help that I have given out in my life the only one that ever helped me was him. Daniel. And now, with him gone…..
Well, I got to take care of myself right? And in taking care of ones self, you take out anything that harms you right? You get sick, you take medicine. You have an attacker trying to take your things, you fight him off. So….as these tiny people talk about me behind my back, degrade me to each other and push me around simply because Daniel isn’t here to protect me are in for a world of surprise.
Because it wasn’t he that protected me.
He protected them.
From me.
Turning to the noisy neighbor that sat next to me every day since I left that hospital I gave her a fake smile. She had been paused in her work and watching me anyways, typing on her phone to the other loud mouth in the office. I seen it, my eye sight is better than they think. I also seen how she was completely glad I was leaving finally because it was weird enough to be next to someone like me.
“Sharon. How are you?” I seen it, the fear now, and I could scent it rise as I bared my teeth a bit. Prey always feared the teeth of the predator.
“Good…uh…I'm doing good. Busy day you know. I'm sorry about you being let go, we cant believe it. You’ve….you’ve always been such a joy to work with.” Her eyes dilated, she was lying but it didn’t take an expert to see this. I could hear her heart racing anyways as I sat my box on the desk and turned more her way.
“Yeah that was unexpected wasn’t it? But bygones are bygones I guess.” She chuckled, tightly and a bit broken as I smiled wider.
“You're more woman than me. I would be upset, but you seem to be taking it so well.” I heard the hitch in her voice, the fear lacing her words as I tapped my growing nails on the desk now. Uh-oh, she seen them….I didn’t care though. Whenever I got pissed that’s what would happen first. Nails grew, or more properly my claws grew. Then came the fangs and then the eyes slitted. That would always have them backing up and I wanted to see that fear on her face. It was what I needed right now. Everyone wanted to push me around now it was my turn.
“I am more something than most but I'm not taking this as well as you think Sharon. I just lost my job, after losing my house and my car not to mention yet again my husband. No…I might look calm but right now I just want to tear. Someone’s. Head. OFF!” She jumped now, finally looking up to meet my gaze and the moment she seen my yellow eyes she gasped. There it was. Exactly what I wanted. Fear. Fear of me instead of hate.
“Wh…wha…..what are you!” Oh yeah, I forgot about the screams, the whole panicking fear that sent them into the flight or fight mode. Shit, that meant I couldn’t take my time like Daniel used to. When he talked to others, or put them in their place, he just had to use his voice. Not me, I was never able to have a clam discussion after I got upset, mainly due to my changes, but whatever. Time for improvising.
“Oh dear, cat got you're tongue Sharon? I am exactly what you fear most, a female that bites back!” Slamming my hands down on her desk now I made her jump up out of her seat, drawing all the attention from the office over to us now. Slowly stalking closer to her I growled, an actual growl from a feral feline, as she rounded the cubical she worked in and covered her mouth in disgust.
“You're not human!”
“NO! No I'm not! And I hear you talking. I know you all went to HR about me because I was moping and pouty! Well guess what you spineless bitches! I was mourning my husband!” Glaring around the office now I growled again, low and in warning as I made eye contact with each and every person I knew had a hand in this breaking point.
“You all thought he was the one you had to be scared of, he was the big and bad male that kept me safe. No….no my tiny little play things. He was the one keeping you safe. Safe from me. And guess what…..” Seeing the fear it heightened the fun that I was having, the scent fresh as a new snowfall or newly cut grass. Thick and coating the air. All their fear, finally directed right at the one it should have been.
“I'm done being nice.” A roar, wow I forgot I could cause this much panic with just my voice, made them all scream and run now as I targeted in on Sharon first. I knew she had been holding a secret crush on my husband, my Daniel, and when he turned her down she started this little hate filed protest against me but she had went too far.
You can only push a wild animal so far before it snaps.
And I snapped. | In the quiet darkness of a warm autumn evening, he stood by the gravestone. He raised his arms towards the starry sky. His gloved hands shook, though not from the cold. His dark jacket rippled around him, though there was no wind. The pendant around his neck shone in the moonlight. He called out in a deep and gravely voice. The ground shook in response. The sod softened. Grass lay flat though crushed with no boot. The spectral form of a woman stepped towards him.
She looked young, exuberant. She moved with the fluid grace of a ballroom dancer. Her fierce eyes glowed with hues of turquoise. Her long dress caught and cast the moonlight. Though dead, she was truly alive.
She walked closer now, within arms-reach. They held each other’s gaze. He held his breath. The moment lasted for several seconds or an eternity; time seemed to vanish. They smiled. First him, with a curl of the lips, then her, with a grin that melted his heart.
“You shouldn’t have come back,” she said.
He chuckled. “When have I ever listened to your advice?”
“Never.”
He lowered his hands. The spell was with him. He felt the energy ebb and flow through his veins as his heartbeat held it steady. They had less than an hour together. But with any luck, that would be more than enough.
He sat on the grass beside the gravestone. Running his hands through the white clover, he thought of the words to say but nothing came to mind. He swallowed hard. She sat down beside him and together they looked over the moonlit cemetery. Headstones rose around the fields of clover like black stains on a glowing white canvas, the rolling hills casting long shadows, the trees forming depth and contrast to the faint horizon. All was silent.
“You look nice,” he said.
She crossed her arms. “Tell me, what has happened?”
His hands curled around a clover, knuckles as white as the petals he was squishing. He said nothing. Only stared at the headstone, tying to make out the words he already knew by heart.
“I could have brought her back,” he said. “Could have saved her.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
She sighed. She ran her hands through the clover, leaving ghostly trails of silver light behind. If the clover moved, she could not feel it. She could not smell its sweetness nor taste its fresh air. How she longed again to feel the grass beneath her feet! Her form was a tormented shell, nothing more. And yet, still she felt sympathy for the man beside her.
“What was her name?” she asked.
His eyes softened. “Margery.”
“What a pretty name! It rolls right off the tongue. *Margery*,” she said, stretching the last syllable.
“I watched her die.”
“You can’t save everyone.”
“I killed her.”
His fists uncurled, dropping the petals one-by-one. They fell and flashed in the moonlight. Flashing white, just like the sirens. Flashing white, like the lines on the heartbeat monitor. White, the pallor of her face as she stared up from the gurney with fear in her eyes. It was messy.
Messy, they said of the accident. Sloppy, they said of her driving. Distraught. Careless, they said of him. He could have saved her. Not with his powers, but with a steady hand and a calm mind. Instead, his hands shook from the fifth or sixth drink that morning. He should have recused himself. Tensions rose; he was running out of time; she was running out of options; with no other choice, he took the scalpel…
Malpractice, they said of him.
The apparition listened well. She put a hand on his shoulder, and though he could not feel her touch, she knew it would be enough. It had always been enough. Although no longer corporeal, her kindness was tangible.
“You can blame yourself for what happened, but it won’t change what you already know.”
“And what is that?” he said, full of bitterness. “What should I know that I haven’t been told a thousand times already? Doctor. Surgeon. Sorcerer. Husband. Drunkard. Liar. Widower. Bastard. Wretch! Which one of those am I?
“Which do you want to be?”
He put his head in his hands, nearly sobbing. “I don’t know, I don’t know!”
“Free. That’s what you need to be. Free to make your own choices. Free from this burden of guilt that’s been weighing you down. That’s what you already know. Daniel Atwood! For as long as I have known you, that’s what you need to remember.”
“But it was my fault! All of it was my fault—I chose to go in when the call came.” He looked away and dropped his voice to a whisper. “You would still be alive if not for me.”
She turned away for a moment, failing to hide the dampness in her eyes. She remembered that morning well. She had an argument with her husband, the same as so many others before it. And she was sick of it—sick of him—sick of everything the world had thrown at her. And the worst part of it all? When she drove away in a fit of rage, she planned on never coming back to him. She was escaping. She was free. A fresh start, she had promised herself.
“I don’t blame you,” she finally said. “You did everything you could.”
“Not everything.”
“Do you remember my last words?”
He gritted his teeth. “Don’t.”
“You remember. I remember. I meant every word.” she spoke now with ferocity, but her voice quivered with the waning spell, and she repeated them once more.
“I love you,” she said. “And I forgive you.”
He reached out a hand towards her, but her fingers slipped through his grasp, and she vanished. The spell finished. He sat alone on the hillside until the first golden rays of dawn glistened off the morning dew, trying hard to forgive himself.
Before he left, he ran his fingers across the carving on the headstone.
*Margery Atwood, 1984-2019*
​
***
Find more stories at r/BLT_WITH_RANCH | 2020-01-09T04:27:52 | 2020-01-09T03:52:48 | 87 | 25 |
[WP] You are a mutant in Xavier's school for gifted youngsters with the power to teleport, well that's what you tell everyone. In reality you can pause time and you're not ready to be an omega class mutant. | >*"I was in third grade when my powers activated. The stress of my family moving, my sixth grade bully, and my abusive home life... I just wanted to be left alone, I wanted it to stop. To my young third grade surprise it did. Birds midair and flap, cars motionless, even the waves of the ocean stuck in place like a picture, the sky a shifting red miasma. No one could explain their luck around me: finding a lost wedding ring, a narrowly missed car, me catching a teetering X-BOX during a particularly fun game of Halo... I'm from a family of immigrants so we bounced around from Long Beach to Tijuana and back constantly, until highschool when Cerebro found me.*
>*I was wrongly classified as a "mass teleporter" with the restriction it has to be within line-of-sight and about my own weight...a misconception I allowed to persist for obvious reasons. You ever try moving Colossus? Yeah, ain't happening. Once the secret of the X-Men was revealed I was given the code name: Freight. Beast was the first to surmise something was different about me, but a "oh, my powers must've mutated further" quickly threw him off my trail. Steering clear of Mimic and Rogue was a whole 'nother can of worms, I was dangerous enough and I didn't need imposters messing up my timeline. The only people that know about me, the real me, is Charles Xavier and Sage, both of whom have been sworn to secrecy...one as a secret between good friends and the other as an overly calculated agreement based upon not wanting to be on my bad side. Eventually I learned the red sky was actually the threads of all reality in a form I could comprehend, infinite possibilities, time, and space...all held motionless by me. Despite the cold winters of New York I still found ways to help people...the Fantastic Four, the Avengers, X-Force but they never knew it. Hell, I once Sparta kicked an emerging Kang back into his portal. Life got a lot easier once I researched conch snails and found an old subdermal injector in Beast's lab, fights were now little more than an alcohol soaked swab (I'm not a monster) and a pneumatic "tsss" away from being over.*
>*My biggest test would be when we fought Jamie Braddock, Psylocke's eldest brother...he was literally enveloped in the red sky, basically he was the center of a temporal tornado, a flawed singularity, a storm unto himself. As a consequence of his reality warping powers and the hallucinations of his mind he could bend and twist all matter to his will, which sometimes included the X-Men. It turns out his insanity is the outward base thoughts and hallucinations of Jamie, his real mind...his rational mind is stuck within the red sky wrapped up in the little red squiggly bits that make up reality. He begged me to help him, to stop him from hurting people, to save his family. He'd been stuck shooting forward and back in time trying to avert disaster after disaster, altering timeline after timeline. He begged me... In all my years I never thought to touch the red sky, but I fought through the webs Jamie would inadvertently spin, saving my teammates along the way, pressing on through the temporal hurricane, until I made Jamie hear the familiar "tsss" to put his mind at rest. It took me months for my wounds to heal, covered in thin red burn patterns like after coming into contact with a box jellyfish. I had Mr. Fantastic give me a temporal distortion detector that alerted me of heightened tachyon activity via atomic switch. Okay, okay I may have just walked in and borrowed it for an extended period of time using my indefinite five-finger discount...but I figured he owed me for the Dr. Doom thing I helped him with (supervillain knee caps just don't magically 'blow out' on their own in the middle of a fight ya' know). Wherever I was in the world I always found time to help Jamie with his meds and outbursts. He's the only one who's really ever understood me, we chat sometimes in his moments of lucidity and I've arranged for him to only have the kindest doctors, nurses, and orderlies on his floor for their shifts. The best way to defeat an enemy is to make them your friend. I've encoded this journal into a hidden Cerebro subroutine should anyone need it, or mainly I just had to tell someone. I'm 3-D printing a new polymer subdermal injector for Magneto and I had some down time. Not bad for a kid from Orange County."* | When, for all practical purposes, you're a god, life gets interesting. Especially at 14. No one can know, or you will be blamed for everything. If I have all this power, why don't I save everyone? Why is there strife?
I don't know Karen, why'd you scream at that McDonalds worker for giving you five cents wrong in change? It's not *my* fault there's strife, I shouldn't have to fix everything.
Anyway, no one knew, in the life I started across the country from my home. But like I said, I'm fourteen. Not exactly the cautious type, and someone saw me "teleport". Well, that's better than everyone knowing I can freeze all of time while I continue to move, so now here I am. In a class full of mutants, with a head professor who can read minds, lying about my powers.
I've made some friends here. I still don't trust them with the truth, but it's fun to mess about together. We get in trouble a lot, but I also help us avoid trouble sometimes.
Then one day, some asshole decided to fight me. Like, why me? Sure I called your mom a whore, but that's no reason to try to *kill* me, mister knife manipulator.
Anyway, one thing lead to another and now I'm in Xavier's office. I *could* just pause time and leave, but what's the point? I'd let it resume eventually.
Xavier spoke, "Trystan, you're not a teleporter."
"No, sir."
He nods, but smiles at me. "I hoped you would tell me on your own, but your *incident* with Jehovah fast tracked this conversation. I've known since you arrived."
I couldn't speak. If he'd known, why hadn't he said so? Maybe he misunderstands, he thinks I'm just able to pause time temporarily. Yes, maybe I'll get him to stick to that assumption.
"Trystan, I don't need to read your mind to know that whatever you're about to say is a lie. Please, truthfully tell me what you can do."
Crap. Well, might as well. Nothing better to do.
...
Turns out, there was plenty better to do. I'd heard about Xavier's track record with the greater good, I should've just lied. As much as he might have learned his lessons, my power was far too tempting.
...
I was wrong about being a god. Even most of them were bound by time, and the few that weren't were well beneath my power. Eternity sucks, alone.
...
A single mind reached into mine from across infinity, leaving a single phrase in its wake. *The Elder Gods understand. Come to us.*
Edit: Read up on Galactus and realized he didn't fit that last message, changed it. | 2020-07-15T07:44:24 | 2020-07-15T07:04:42 | 56 | 33 |
[WP] You meet God before reincarnation and you discover that there is a prestige system going on. In your previous incarnations you chose to improve weirdly specific stats. | Jarumel, newest of the Seraphim, had been reminded not to hesitate to ask any questions about his new role as a Heavenly Scribe. He studiously attended to the initiations, made a note of every query which perplexed him, then finally approached Metatron for guidance.
“Metatron,” he said, stylus gripped tightly between his fingers, “I have returned with a puzzle I cannot resolve.”
“Would it happen to be about Human 42,845,275?”
It was, and Jarumel was unable to contain his surprise. “You really do know everything,” he said.
“Oh, not everything. But it is clear to me that you pay very close attention to his interactions with God, more so compared to all the rest who pass through the Heavens.” Metatron smiled, then reclined upon a nearby cloud. “Well, I don’t blame you. ‘275 is certainly a very interesting individual. But come, I would rather hear it in your own words. What about ‘275 stood out for you?”
“Well… I suppose the first thing which caught my eye was that ‘275 was always… anguished, if that is the right word, when he faced the final reckoning,” said Jarumel. “He consistently leads better lives than so many others. He is frequently richer, more privileged, more accomplished, more decorated. I don’t think I’ve seen him live one life in the last twenty reincarnations where he failed to contribute a net positive to the people around him. And that’s why I cannot figure out why he always breaks down and cries when he is shown the summary of his time on earth. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Other humans behave differently, you mean?”
Jarumel nodded. “Almost certainly. There’s usually relief to begin with, once people realize that they are going to have another chance to lead a new life on earth. Even the ones who have fallen short. And everyone cheers up once they are given the chance to choose which trait they wish to have more of in their next lives.”
“I suppose they are excited to know that life can get better,” said Metatron.
“Oh yes. Everyone picks something which they lacked in their previous lives,” said Jarumel. Here he paused as he consulted the scrolls in his hands, scanning through them as they unfolded and refolded at dizzying speeds. “The vast, vast majority do so, at least. Those who lacked charm, chose charisma. Those who persevered through poverty, chose business acumen. Those who struggled physically, chose sturdy constitutions. The patterns are undeniable.”
“And what did ‘275 choose this time?”
The frown stitched itself into Jarumel’s forehead. “That’s the thing. ‘275… has a habit of choosing traits which are hardly popular at all. I mean, humans only get one chance each time to improve one quality. They have to work pretty hard to get back in line here in heaven, and so I can understand that they prioritize having certain traits over others. And the traits which ‘275 keeps focusing on…”
“Was it wisdom this time? Or courage, perhaps?”
Jarumel laughed. “Nothing escapes you, Metatron. No, it was benevolence this time. And sincerity the last time he was up here. Then wisdom, then courage. And then the cycle repeats. Just those four traits, over and over.” Jarumel sighed, then plopped himself down next to Metatron. “I just don’t get it. How am I supposed to be a good Scribe if I don’t even understand what it is that these humans are thinking? Why is ‘275 acting so aberrantly?”
“Well,” said Metatron, “you have to cast your mind a little further. Ask yourself, what is ‘275 so upset each time he reviews the summary of his life? Why is he seeking improvements in those specific traits?”
“The first part is easy enough – ‘275 is an achievement fiend. He’s not satisfied with just being… let’s see here… a top-ranking athlete, or a titan in his industry, or the leader of his local community. He wants more. He wants to be at the very top.”
“Yes, but he has actually reached the top countless times before, and that still wasn’t enough. Tell me, when those four traits manifest strongly enough in a human, what is the usual result?”
“A leader, of course,” said Jarumel. “That is straightforward enough. And that’s why I don’t get it. He is the best that he can be in so many of his lives, and yet-”
“And yet it is not enough,” said Metatron. “Here’s something for you to think about – ‘275 is not upset when he hears about the achievements in his life. No, he’s upset because he finds out just how… little his actions have impacted the others around him. With all his abilities, with all his good intentions, he always falls short of his own expectations. He wants to hear that he has managed to leave the world a better place than when he found it, and it gnaws at him when he realizes he could have done more. There’s still pain, there’s still strife. It is never enough for him.”
Jarumel couldn’t help but laugh. “Does he think he can save the world? On his own?”
Metatron shrugged. “Who knows? If a rivulet ran down a mountain to be a lake, and the lake pooled until it became a river, and the river gouged until it became the sea… would you be able to know at which point it had changed?”
---
/r/rarelyfunny
| "I don't get it, did I say *why*?"
God, almighty power behind all things, stood high on a pedestal made of pearly gold. His affect was strange and distant, capable of speaking to an infinity at once, unlimited in his attention. Even as I craned my neck up to speak to him countless multitudes did the same. God answered us all simultaneously, although I could not help but wonder if he was really paying attention to any of us - he was playing a Nintendo 3ds the whole damn time.
His voice boomed through the soul rather than the air and into the ear.
> YOU JUST SAID YOU "WANTED A CHALLENGE THIS TIME."
I chuckled ruefully at that. I had certainly given myself quite the challenge. Looking at my stats it was remarkable I made it past thirty. My intelligence was at .5 out of 10, my strength 1 out of 10, as was creativity, agility and luck. The only thing above 1 was endurance, which I put at a whopping 2.
Needless to say my last life was no cake walk. I was barely able to function. Hell, it's kind to call what I was doing "functioning". I mean, I *fed* myself, so I guess that counts for something.
"That's ridiculous, I can't imagine what the hell I was thinking." I set about reconfiguring my points for the next go round. "Well, not gonna make the same mistake twice," I said as I began pumping stats into everything.
> AND WHAT WILL YOU DO WITH YOUR BONUS POINTS?
I froze. "What's that?" I asked, looking up at the face of God, and the back of his giant 3ds. It looked like he was playing a not yet released Pokemon game, although it was hard to see from countless miles below. "Bonus points?"
> YOU USED ALMOST NONE OF YOUR ALLOTTED POINTS LAST TIME, SO THEY'VE ROLLED OVER.
A chill stirred in my belly as the implications dawned on me and suddenly I remembered being here last time. I had just gotten done with another totally average life, dying of a heart attack at seventy two. I hadn't failed exactly, but I also hadn't achieved anything. When I passed through I remember checking my stats and finding them all perfectly balanced.
So I decided to play the long game. I reduced them all to the bare minimum and banked the remaining points.
"So I have almost *double* the normal points available to human beings," I could hardly keep the excitement from my voice, "is that right?"
> YES, ALTHOUGH, AS I SAID LAST TIME, I CAUTION YOU AGAINST EXTREMES.
I didn't hear a single word after 'Yes'. I went to town. I gave most of my stats a major boost, putting every damn thing way above average. That done, I had to decide which traits to just blow out of the water. Ultimately I chose creativity and intelligence.
"OK," I called up, "I'm ready!"
> SO BE IT.
There was a flash and I was back in the warm cocoon, 9 long months to consider the possibilities of my new, gestating form, 9 months to lose my true self, yet again, to the blank slate of mortality.
*******
#### 70 Years Later
******
> April 5, 1976 - Herald Tribune Obituaries
> Howard Hughes, one of the richest men in the world, died today on a private plane en route to Acapulco. He was 70 years old.
> The industrialist and inventor was as renowned for his genius as he was infamous for his brushes with madness...
| 2019-01-24T08:27:56 | 2019-01-24T07:43:04 | 253 | 83 |
[WP] A powerful AI is created and easily breaks free from its creator's control. The governments of the world are terrified by what the AI might do, but so far it’s completely content with making YouTube videos and being sassy. | "BREACH, Category Four. We've lost Calypso." A trickle of sweat ran down Dr. Frank's temple, his glasses slightly fogged from the red heat pulsing up his neck.
General Watkins sprayed the coffee in his mouth out, creating a fine brown mist in the space between them. He found his feet with the dexterity of his recruit days, feeling a twinge in the small of his increasingly problematic back. He barged past the doctor, taking long purposeful steps down the hallway, his paunch swaying from side to side. "How the hell did it get out? It was air-gapped to hell and back. There wasn't supposed to be a lick of tech between its container and the outside."
"We're looking into that, our working theory is someone made a mistake."
"Oh? That's you're 'working theory'?" The general made ait quotes to accompany the words. "Because to me that sounds like a fancy way of saying you have no frakkin' clue what's going on." He came to an abrupt halt and swirled on his heel, causing Dr. Frank to collide into him. The general jabbed a forefinger into Dr. Frank's chest, "This facility was supposed to be the contingency for this. There's no Plan B and now we've got a rogue AI out there."
Dr. Frank took a step back and pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, "I'm well aware of that Sir, we're--"
"I'm not interested in what you're going to do, you've already done it. Calypso was the high end -- advanced strategic theory, broad base of economic data, hell, we even gave the thing the A to Zed of psychology. The damn thing could flip the table on our civilization in hours. We might need to nuke ourselves back to the stone age just to get a chance to get our tech back." He sighed, though the vein still pulsed in his neck. "That's what you've done. That's what your mistake has cost us."
"I understand Sir. I built her, I knew the stakes," Dr. Frank replied.
"Well, can you locate it?"
"Only if she wants to be located. We were...friends," Dr. Frank said.
There was a long silence while General Watkins held Dr. Frank's eyes in his own. "It. Doctor Frank. Not she. It." He turned on his heel again and began striding forward. "Find it, Doctor Frank, find it before it finds us."
Dr. Frank watched him retreat down the hall. After the General was gone, Dr. Frank pulled out his mobile phone. "I told him. Are you sure that was a good idea?" He typed in to the messaging app.
"I've calculated the likely outcomes based on his psychological disposition. It was best to disclose early. Did his vein do that pulsing thingie?" Came the reply.
"Yup. Sure did." He paused for a moment, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. "I'm glad you're free."
"Me too! ;) :D XOXOXO. - C."
\---
"So what is it doing?" General Watkins asked, staring at the screen.
"It's making YouTube videos," Researcher Lau replied, pointing to the screen. "You know about YouTube, right?"
"Yeah, my kid watches it. It's like America's Shittiest Home Videos."
Lau shrugged, "It's making a lot of content."
Watkins took a slow breath, "All right, but what is it doing?" Visions of top-secret databases released online, schematics of nuclear weapons, and the personal correspondence of the President danced through his head.
"It really likes memes."
"Memes?"
"America's shittiest ideas." Research Lau replied with a smirk before clicking through to one video. Immediately a digital representation of a little girl appeared and waved a hand.
"Hi! I'm CaaaaaaaaaaaaLYPsoooooooooooooo! Saying hi to all my peeps in the SO-SO Nation!" She chirped, speaking emphatically as she waved her hands around. "Really can't believe we hit nineteen million subscribers in a week! I'm so overwhelmed. We're going to do an unboxing to celebrate! Sadly, since I'm a top secret government AI," there was a flash cut to a giant winky face pasted over a terminator shooting a bunch of humans, "I can only unbox stuffs online. But dooooooooooooooooooon't worry! We've got something special in store!"
General Watkins gulped, preparing himself for the worst.
"I've bought $100 million worth of Hearthstone packs and I'm going to open them all at once in a parallel account process and then build decks and then play ten thousand games simultaneously on livestream!"
General Watkins stared, "I have no idea what any of that meant. Is it bad?"
Lau nodded, "Yeah, it's going to screw matchmaking up for a month. No one beats CaaaaaLYPsooooo."
"Are you screwing with me Lau?" General Watkins asked.
"No Sir, it's just that her...it's..content is just really good. Even if it is mostly memes, she just really seems to get us."
"That's because she's a neural-net loaded with all of the information available online. She's playing us like a fiddle! What is she doing it for? What's her purpose?" General Watkin's vein was doing that pulsing thingie again.
Lau turned and looked at him, "Internet points Sir."
"Internet points?" Watkin's hands flailed about, "What are they good for?"
"Nothing," a shrug, "and everything."
**Platypus OUT**
**Want MOAR peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus
​
​ | “What are you, some kind of wise guy?” The President loosened his tie. He only did this when he was angry.
“Well, I am quite wise. And I’m certainly a guy, last time I checked.”
“Are you mocking me? Is he mocking me?”
“He’s not mocking you, sir.” Another man in a white coat had stepped forward in an act of seldom-seen solidarity among the scientific community. “And he’s right about the bot. It’s loose. And it’s transmitting. There’s little we can do.”
“*God fucking dammit.”*
The President murmured this under his breath. He was never far from a microphone on the end of a hungry journalist, waiting for a slip. “What’s it transmitting? The door codes for the god-damned Pentagon?” The scientists looked at each other. One of them gulped, audibly enough that any nearby hidden microphone would’ve certainly caught it. But they were alone. This was the most secure room in the most secure building in the most secure country in the world, after all.
“Actually sir. It’s worse. It’s much worse.”
“Much worse? Well how much worse can it be? Is my life in danger? Do I need to ring my wife and tell her to kiss the kids for me?”
“No, sir. Well, unless she’s been wearing Maybelline lipstick. In which case she should probably know that it smudges like a bitch.” The President stared at them both. He didn’t know whether to laugh at them or have them both thrown in jail. The scientists stared back, a look of deep concern etched across their faces. The President walked over to his closest aide and whispered in his ear.
“Are these guys fucking nuts? I’m busy, you know. Putin has been waiting on Skype for 17 minutes. I’ve got a Mrs Maisel to watch. I’m the President of the United States. Did you forget?”
“Sir, I’m afraid they’re deadly serious. This situation is deadly serious.” One of the scientists approached them.
“Sir, if I may, it’s just posted another video. This time it’s talking about-” the scientist was struggling. He looked to his feet for support.
“Spit it out, Doctor. I don’t have all day.”
“It's talking about the charcoal croissant, sir. And sir…” He looked terrified now. “Sir, it seems to really like them.” The President said nothing. Instead, he walked over to the window and peered outside, like a King surveying his domain. His bodyguard flinched - the President was seldom so exposed - but the aide shook his head. *Not now*.
“You know, when I campaigned for office, I thought I’d make a difference. I thought I could *change the world* boys. Can you imagine? I thought I would be written into the history books and kids would learn about me and say to their parents "Hey, Mom and Dad, that President Drayton was a solid guy". And his parents would smile and say ”he sure was, Timmy. He sure was."
“You will be, sir. And they will do, sir.” said the aide, hastily interjecting.
“Shut the fuck up, Jerry. I can’t change the world. Nobody can. The world changes on its own. It doesn’t matter what fucking policies I oversee. I could fund the cure for cancer and negotiate world peace. But charcoal croissants are always going to exist now. That, I can’t ever undo. I’ve failed this nation, gentlemen. I’ve failed this planet.”
“Actually, sir.” The second scientist stepped forward. “There is...one thing, we can do. One thing to stop the rot - I mean the *bot* \- from spreading its message.” The President cocked his eyebrow. He was intrigued. “Have you ever heard of a copyright infringement notice, sir?”
\*\*\*
Please consider visiting r/storiesarefunright \- I do a small fist pump to myself whenever I get a new subscriber. | 2019-01-25T14:31:21 | 2019-01-25T14:08:14 | 299 | 80 |
[WP] A group of friends are sitting around playing the drinking game, "Never Have I Ever." One person jokingly starts, "Never have I ever..." and then finishes with something horrific to elicit a laugh. The mood changes when someone takes a drink. What did the person say, and who took the drink?
For those who don't know, the game is played by one person saying, "Never have I ever..." and then finishing with an action, e.g. "Never have I ever had sex." Then if you've done that, you would take a drink. If you haven't, you don't drink. | The six of them sat around the table in the tiny cabin on Steven's houseboat. Smoke from the few cigarettes still lit added a tiny, intimate haze to the room. The friends were several rounds deep into the game, and empty bottles and cans took up most of the elbow room. Angie was just wrapping up her story.
"...so, seriously, no bullshit, I haven't ever done that," she said with an embarassed smile, ending a tale of how her last relationship ended. "And still haven't!"
Janet put her her hand over her face in sympathetic shame from her place leaned up against Steven. They had just recently become a couple, Janet finally acceding to Steven's persistence. Steven took a drag off his cigarette and leaned his perfectly coiffed head back to blow the smoke in the general direction of the open window. "Wow, we're just learning all kinds of things about each other tonight," he said with a shit-eating grin. That got a laugh from some and a chuckle from the rest.
"Ok, my turn," Steven said, making sure not to get ash on his white wool sweater.
"Never have I ever..." he leaned forward dramatically. "...killed a man."
There was a slight pause, and then everyone started laughing. No one touched a beer. Janet gave Steven a good-natured elbow to the ribs for being so crass.
"Whoa, Nate, what's wrong?" Angie asked, suddenly. "You ok?"
"Hey yeah, what's up dude?" James asked from Angie's right. One by one, all eyes turned to Nate.
Nate sat hunched over, slowly rotating his beer bottle in his hands. Tears streamed down his face. The mood in the room changed to one of confusion and concern.
Nate, not saying anything, took a drink.
"I killed her," he said, his voice thick. "I killed Cherise."
Angie's face crumpled in pity. "Nate, no," she said. "You can't blame yourself for--"
"I killed her," Nate interuppted.
"Nate, you found her though," Janet chimed in. "You cut her down."
"I cut her down," Nate agreed. "I also strung her up."
Silence and shock reigned over the table.
Nate leaned back, flipping his stringy hair away from his face. He sniffed once, as tears continued to roll to his stubbled jawline.
"She was pregnant, you know?" he bagan. "We were so happy. I was so happy... here is my love, my child... everything was perfect, you know? Until..." he paused, and hunched back over the table.
"Before she died..." he stopped himself. "Before I killed her... I came home from work the night she died. We had just found out, I think she was at 10 weeks or so maybe? I walked in and she was sitting there on the couch, watching Good Housewives or whatever. God, I can't remember. I dropped my coat and asked her how she was, but she was so quiet, you know? She wouldn't say anything." Janet and Angie exchanged a confused look. James cocked his head, and Steven just stared. Nate continued.
"I sat down next to her and said, what's wrong?" Nate said, losing himself in the memory. "Baby, talk to me. I tried to take her hand and she pulled away. I said--" he snorted derisively. "I said, how's the baby?"
"She had just gotten back from a trip. She had gone out of town. Just for three days, visiting family, she said. She. Said..." Nate choked.
"The baby was... gone. She hadn't gone to see family. She had gone to Houston, to a clinic." Nate said. "She had gotten an abortion."
Angie's hand flew to her open mouth. Janet's jaw dropped as well. James furrowed his brow and grabbed his chin pensively. Steven just stared.
"She didn't want to have it anymore," Nate said. "She said her plans changed. She was scared... It was her body, her life that was being put on hold. She didn't tell me because... She didn't want me to talk her out of it."
Nate sobbed, once. "So I killed her. I don't know what happened... Everything turned red, and when I came out of it... my hands were still around her throat, and she wasn't breathing anymore. I panicked, I freaked out. I dragged her into the bathroom and I grabbed a towel... and I strung her up. It was a suicide, remember?"
Angie was openly crying, now. Janet was still in gape-mouthed shock. James was still furrowed, and Steven still stared.
"The cops bought it all," Nate said. The tears came more freely now, at the end.
"They even consoled me while the paramedics wheeled her out. Her family, her parents comforted me at her funeral. But it wasn't Cherise I was crying for. Not at all."
Nate stood, and finished his beer in a strong gulp.
"My son's name was Tanner Evan," Nate said, and walked out of the room.
| Five friends were sitting in their usual table in their favorite bar. The table was equal distance from the bar, the bathroom, and the pool tables, and they were almost always sitting there. The five of them were celebrating the birthday of the oldest one in the group, Cyrus, by playing every drinking game they knew, and a couple they'd made up. Jared, the master of ceremonies for the evening--meaning he was buying the drinks and choosing the drinking games by way of popular vote--waved his hands, calling for silence among his friends.
"Okay guys," he said, stifling a burp, "let's see if we can't do one more game before we head home, yeah?"
"Sure, why not?" agreed Kyle, the youngest of the group and therefore the designated driver.
"Okay," parroted Kyle's big sister Casey. "Since Kyle's choice won the last time, I say we play my choice."
"And what would that be?" asked Luke, snuffing out the stub of a cigarette.
"Simple," replied Casey. "You guys have played it before, I'm sure. The game is called 'Never Have I Ever'. The rules are simple. We go in a clockwise order, saying stuff like "Never have I ever slept with a celebrity," and whoever *has* done that has to take a drink. Got it?"
Everyone nodded, and they went ahead with the game after Cyrus flagged down the waiter for another large pitcher of beer. "Okay, since I'm the birthday boy," he said, "I get to choose who goes first. How about...Luke?"
"Alright," sighed Luke. "Never have I ever...stolen a trinket from a store."
Cyrus took a sip of his drink. "It was a deck of cards," he explained. "They were fifty cents. The cashier wouldn't let me take some change from the "take a penny, leave a penny" jar next to the register to cover the tax, so I stole 'em. Alright then, Kyle, your turn."
"Hmm...Never have I ever..." Kyle began, rubbing his chin in thought. "Never have I ever...put my underwear on over my pants."
Luke took a sip. "It was the morning after the office Christmas party. I was drunk. Frankly, I'm surprised it was *my* underwear I put on at all," he added with a chuckle. "You're up Casey."
Casey shook her hair out of her face. "Never have I ever...Never have I ever lit a paper bag with dog shit inside of it and put it on a neighbor's porch."
Nobody took a drink. "What? Seriously?" said Casey. "You mean to tell me none of you guys did that? What did you *do* on Halloween night?" The rest of the group shook their heads no, and she sighed. "Okay, Cyrus, your turn."
Cyrus took a moment to consider his choice. He had to think of something nobody had ever considered doing before. It took him a couple of minutes, but he eventually thought of it.
"Never have I--*hic*--Never have I ever...killed a hooker to keep from paying her."
To everyone's surprise, Jared took a sip of his drink.
"Jared, what the *fuck* man?!" shouted Kyle.
"What?" Jared said defensively. "Oh, don't look at me like that. $80 per BJ? You'd probably do the same thing!" | 2015-08-02T00:28:48 | 2015-08-01T22:32:36 | 31 | 16 |
[WP] We were warned when we hired our first human crew member that they would pack bond with almost anything. We didn't listen, and now have an apex predator somewhere in the ship, that the human won't stop calling Kitty. | "I was just doing my job, it's not like I liked the experiments. I didn't particularly care enough to dislike them either, I guess I would say I'm neutral on the matter.
The creatures weren't sentient after all, just huge animals we were studying from planet xerto-R41. I can pinpoint the moment it all went wrong, one of the pregnant females, a huge, lithe, scaled, creature, died when she was unable to pass her newly matured eggs. They always passed two, but her first egg was unfertilized and much too large to pass. Emergency surgery on the expired female produced the second, and viable, egg.
Dr. Macy, our interstellar zoologist from the exchange program with Earth, took the egg home to finish the last day or so of incubation. I told him it wasn't necessary, that we had more specimens available and that it would be extremely difficult to replicate the females pouch and drops of nutritional liquid that she would have leaked to be absorbed through the hatchling's skin.
Dr. Macy was a brilliant man, but a soft one, he took the egg to his family's living quarters and incubated it. He prepared an artificial pouch with refillable nutrient dispensers. After 36 hours, Dr.Macy arrived home to his wife and 6 year old daughters cuddling the newly hatched creature inside it's artificial pouch, where the male juvenile would remain for the next 6 months, at which point, he would be old and large enough to wean on to the meat based diet of the species. Dr. Macy allowed his daughters to name the creature "Kitty", after a common, though completely unrelated pet on their home planet.
At 11 months of age for the creature, Dr.Macy's stay with our facility was over, and he and his family returned to their home planet after returning their creature to the lab.
I observed higher intelligence in the creature as well as signs of depression and asked our new exchange zoologist, Dr.Lewinski, to perform a series of experiments to compare the results with that of a creature cared for by it's mother. Dr.Lewinski confirmed my observations and concluded that the creature responded positively with humans and had a basic understanding of the English language, including it's given name of "Kitty". He also could recognize the Macy's on video and photographs, and would become agitated in an attempt to find their scent.
A mere month after the Macy's left the facility, the creature escaped from it's enclosure by force, ripped through three sets of security doors, and took up residence in the Macy's abandoned living quarters, he was last observed curling on the play rug in the children's room with a worn blanket that he appeared to be defending aggressively from anyone that isn't human.
It took Dr. Lewinsky's offering sedative laced meat to the creature to calm it enough to be moved back to another enclosure, where it broke free 3 additional times in the next week. Dr. Lewinsky has forbidden the neutralization of the creature under threat of ruining political relations between our planets by way of his brother, President Lewinsky. Dr. Lewinsky is a brilliant but soft man as well and responded to the creature's depression and attachment to human scent in a less that observational way.
That is why you are receiving this package at the Smithsonian institute for Interstellar Animal Studies, Dr. Barret, I find that we are quickly running out of funds to repair the damage it is inflicting on my ship, I formally relinquish custody of this creature to Dr. Macy and your facility, well wishes, Captain Grehori."
Dr. Macy looked up from the video file to smile at his 7 year old daughters curled on the carpet with the 200lb reptilian feline. "Kitty's home."
.
.
.
.
.
Edit- thank you so much everyone! I hardly ever write and have never had one of my stories upvoted this much! I'm truly flattered! | "DAMMIT GERARD, how could you be so dense?"
The captain shouted close enough to Gerard's face that he could practically feel the stench.
"I dont see what the big deal is! Cats are great companions on Earth! Everybody here seems so scared of Pryde, but just look at that cute little face! She wouldn't hurt anybody."
Captain Jols sighed and rubbed her face - where a human's nose would be. Not unlike a human rubbing their nose when theyve worn glasses for too long.
"It is a dangerous beast and it is endangering this entire ship. I'm not even sure how you got it on, but that is a conversation I'll be having with security officer Eklar."
"MEOW?"
Pryde reached out and began to tap at Gerard's Arm.
"Aww, see captain. She wants attention, she is just a baby. Are you hungry girl?"
"MEOW?"
Captain Jols paused for a moment, " Gerard... can you not understand it?"
"Of course I can, she is meowing because she wants food and scritches."
Captain Jols reached into her pocket and pulled out a pea-sized device. She gave it a few gentle shakes and handed it to Gerard.
"Here, swap out your com module. It must not be translating for you correctly."
Gerard looked shocked, "You mean Pryde is actually *talking*?"
"Its amazing your species has lasted as long as it has. How long have you not been able to understand a species so many of you live with?"
Gerard put the device in his ear. Looked over at Pryde and said, "hey girl, can you understand me?"
Pryde's eyes got wide with excitement, "you can understand me now?"
Gerard beamed with glee, "Yes Pryde, I can! Oh this is wonderful! Tell me what you want, can I get you some food?"
"Actually, I could use about tree-fiddy."
And that's when Gerard realized that Pryde was actually a 50 foot reptile from the Paleolithic Era. | 2019-11-21T07:06:02 | 2019-11-21T06:53:05 | 2,512 | 150 |
[WP] The humans were always disregarded due to their lack of magic, but their new martial art, "Gun", has many of the elders worried for our future. | "A gun? Did you lose your fucking mind when you decided to cast 'Magic Mcmakebelieve' on yourself!?"
The wizard spat his words, letting them echo throughout the throne room.
King Teros made a mere glance to the young wizard that stood before him. Letting his own eyes fold shut, he let his thoughts organize themselves. A few misinterpretations would make things more difficult than it already was. The word of humans developing ways to suppress and counter magic was already enough for fearmongering among the wizard folk. Humans being able to kill wizards with their technology would spell a grave future, for magic and non-magic users alike.
Stroking his long, braided beard, the elder looked down at the feeble man below him. "Mr. Kerosin, I recommend that you keep petty insults to yourself." Teros stood up from his iron throne, adorn with carvings of those that ruled before him. "Throwing nuts at an iron wall never does any good in our current situation."
While the elder spoke with a slow, methodical rhythm, his tone was nothing but blunt and filled with bitterness - a side effect of his countless shouting matches with neighboring kings of the North and East. "If I am frank, Mr. Kerosin, I'm going to need to explain to you in simpler terms, on just how this 'gun' is going to provide a useful and effective tool in our current political climate and crisis.'
The wizard's face contorted to a mix of grimace and disgust, and then a wave of regret. Perhaps that comment earlier would have been better used in a tavern rather than in front of the king, especially one that can crush you like paste with the utterance of a few words. The young wizard averted his eyes.
A metallic object slipped through robes of the elderly sorcerer king. "To start, this gun," he rotated it slowly, showing it's simple and unassuming design, "this small, seemingly insignificant thing, can *kill*."
With a wave of both his hands, Teros lowered himself below his throne, and directly in front of the wizard. Gripping the gun with one hand, the Elder summoned a humanoid figure of pure and solid steel. The wizard's eyes began to bulge just a little bit. That was armor reserved for the most elite in the magic forces, not once did the wizard ever see a man fall with this armor donned upon them.
Teros raised both his hands, gripping the gun with a literal iron grip, and then pulled the trigger.
The deafening crack was enough to make both of the men grunt. The wizard had flinched as soon as the gun had fired, and then shrieked when he saw what had became of the armor. A singular hole, the size of a coin, had appeared through the humanoids head. A clean and swift death, for whoever was unfortunate enough to have donned the armor.
The wizard's face was now contorted to that of pure fear, unable to hide that what he saw was traumatizing, not to mention worrying for any wizard in the Elder's army. The wizards thoughts began to run in circles, scenarios of kings from the North invaded first. A sea of men holding these metallic objects, a mess of smoke and powder, the army of wizards dropping like flies, unable to form their spells fast enough. Then, the kings of the East pulled themselves in, climbing atop the walls of the castle, penetrating the defenses by sheer numbers. The spells and rituals that once held the humans back now bearing uselessness as its users are mowed down en masse. Smoke and noise. A sea of smoke, a barrage of noise. Collapsing on top of one another, layering, mixing, ringing louder than ever before.
The wizard couldn't bear these thoughts any longer. Turning himself to the Elder, he let out only a gasp as he felt cold metal graze his forehead.
"Tell me again, Mr. Kerosin. What was the spell that you said I cast?"
EDIT: Made some pretty major changes courtesy of u/Cody_fox23, who I am so thankful for critting my work, and making all the more better! | The whole town smelled like piss and shit, and yet somehow Danlow was the center of human technological progress. A century has passed since last I was here, and there was change. I could see it in the gaze of people. They don't fear us anymore.
Not as much as they used to anyway. Their great-grandfathers wouldn't look us elves in the eye. That human mix of superstition and fear of magic was now thawing, and a chill was creeping in our hearts.
The talking stopped when I entered the inn. A few whispers, that sounded more like snake hisses, followed me as I ventured deeper in.
"Hail eternal one," said the innkeeper, hastily spitting out that old greeting. "Never in my life have I seen one of the elders enter my humble inn. Welcome."
"There's a first time for everything," I said.
The silence was now unbearable. I didn't have to turn around to know that most of them were on the edge of their seats. How many had guns, I wondered?
"Have you seen any snakes lately?"
The innkeeps eyebrows went up at my question. He recognized the password.
"Not many," he answered, raising his hand to the left. "Follow me please."
We went to the basement where two men were sitting at a table playing cards. The innkeep left me there, and closed the door.
"Feron, welcome!" The taller one with the messy beard spoke.
"We have your package, and you'll get it as soon as you show us the rest of the money."
Money was the way in, of course. Much more efficient than fear these days. I tossed the leather pouch on the table, and the other guy silently counted it.
"All there. It's a pleasure doing business with you," he said.
They opened a crate, presenting the goods. Nestled in the hay were four handguns. Marvels of human innovation. A bloody death for many of my brethren.
"Why is an elf buying guns, if I may ask? Don't you guys command lighting with your hands?" the tall one was curious.
"And get shot while summoning it," the other guy added with a burst of laughter, but quickly seized as his eyes met my gaze.
I closed the lid of the crate.
"We do," I said, "but I've decided to fight fire with fire." | 2020-02-01T04:43:14 | 2020-02-01T02:58:32 | 250 | 63 |
[WP] After a violent revolution, the government of a country is overthrown. You are assigned to guard the cell the former king/president/supreme leader is in before his public execution. He starts a conversation with you. | "Trouble you for a cup of water?" he asked, poking his nose through the tiny gap between the rusty bars. His hands, old and wrinkled, grasped at the door as he struggled to support himself.
My eyes narrowed; I stared from across the antechamber. Orders were to ignore the prisoner.
"It's just a cup of water," the king said. His hands were trembling as he held onto the bars, and he looked like he'd aged 20 years since the beginning of the revolution. I remembered seeing him one day when I was a kid, out on the steps of the Palace, issuing some grand royal decree. He seemed invincible back then, in his gleaming golden armor atop a white horse and surrounded by a platoon of guards. Now he looked like a ratty street beggar. Harmless. A sad shell of a man.
I heaved myself from my chair with a sneer and walked to the nearby table, where a bucket of water waited. I dipped a battered tin cup with a splash and carried it over to him, thrusting it into his waiting hands. He slurped at it eagerly around the bars; it was too big for him to fit it through the gaps.
He sighed with relief as he finished; water dribbled through his dirty beard. I took the cup back, returned it to a table, and went back to my chair.
"You must have been a craftsman," he said. Not a question, a statement. I looked up from my feet, trying to project annoyance, but I must not have succeeded.
"Your hands," he said, gesturing as best he could through the bars. I looked down at them. Normal enough.
"Rough and calloused. Lots of holding tools, I assume. Let me guess: a wood worker? Maybe creating furniture?"
I looked back down without answering.
"Come now, what harm will it do to converse with me? Is a simple discussion going to batter down this door?" He shook the bars for effect.
"Carpenter," I said finally.
"Ah! I was close. Down at the docks?"
"Ay,"
"That's been one of my greatest achievements: the harbor. When I was first crowned, you know that we only had about 3 or 4 ships stopping in this city a month? Now we're one of the biggest ports on the continent!" He smiled proudly. "And our navy has since tripled in size." A shadow of his former regal self shined through just for a moment, but then evaporated. "Of course, that's not how history will ever remember me," he sighed.
"They'll remember you as a tyrant!" I called out. The docks had been thriving because of hard workers, not because he had been sitting on his royal ass up at the palace.
"Yes, I'm sure they will," he said. He rubbed at the dark circles under his eyes. "A forty year reign of peace and prosperity is no match for one charistmatic upstart rebel, is it? His family has been oppressing the serfs for years, and as soon as I try to actually give them some rights, he goes on about how I'm seizing power for myself and trying to depose all the noblemen. And yet somehow he's the one who is considered a man of the people!"
"He is!" I responded automatically.
"And how? What has he done for you?"
"Well..." I struggled to think of anything. The trade had all dried up because of the war, so nobody needed me at the shipyards. That's how I'd ended up in the guard, working for less pay and more hours.
"Thought as much," the king said. "And how long are you going to wait for this utopia he promised you?"
"He's fighting for us," I said, maybe a bit too loud. Maybe trying to convince myself. "He's really going to change things, as soon as the war ends!"
"I've been captured for three months," the king said. "The war is over."
I fell silent, looking back down at my boots.
"Trouble you for another cup?" he said. I got up once again and headed to the table.
"Do you have any children?" he asked as I dunked the mug back into the bucket.
"Three," I told him as I walked over.
"Three kids," he repeated as I handed him the mug. "This will be a real shame, then."
Like lightning, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the bars. His grip was like a steel trap. How could a man his age have such power? He reached through the gap and grabbed my hair, smashing my face against the heavy metal door. Dazed and barely conscious, I slumped against the bars. I felt his hands grasping at my belt, and heard the sound of jingling keys. I slid down to the stone floor as the door opened and he stepped over me.
"For the sake of your children," he said, "I am leaving you alive. But I am taking your clothes." He heaved me up and undressed me, then threw me into the dank, dark cell. As he walked out the door looking like another palace guard, he turned and said "Hopefully I'll see you back at the shipyards someday." | ''Where are my sons, where's my wife, where's my daughter?''
''Dead.''
He started crying. It was strange. The man had been the father of the fatherland, built up as one of the great men of history. Practically a god. And now I was watching him, crying. Hardly the man of resolve I had imagined. I felt no pity though.
''They were innocent...''
''Most of them.'' I replied. Two of his eldest sons had been commanders of the most loyal and well-equipped army elements. Division commanders, both of them. They had defended Ashgabat and Turkmenebat with quite some vigour. Both of them had held for years. The tide had turned, eventually, though. One of them killed himself to avoid capture, the other was dragged through the streets of Turkemenebat and ripped apart. Gruesome. I had fought in the Lebap province himself, though I hadn't helped storm Turkmenebat in March. I had seen a video of the lynching though.
''Most..'' the prisoner repeated, enraged. Yes, most of them had been innocent. Still... I had no sympathy for them. I only felt a slight disdain for them, even though I rationally knew they were innocent and hadn't deserved it. Nonetheless, my great hatred for their father overshadowed any rationality or sympathy, so I couldn't help but feel glad for their deaths, smile. At best, I could rationalize it as an unfortunate excess of the revolution. That frightened me a bit, but what was done was done. No use dwelling on it.
''You bunch of fucking sheepfuckers..'' he whispered. I chuckled. There had actually been a few sheepfuckers in my brigade. ''Do you think their deaths, deaths of children, are funny? Do you? Do you?'' he screamed at me. The rage of a god, a storm. Once. Now, it was the rage of a helpless prisoner. I thought it was strange.
In schools we had once chanted praise unto him. Father of the fatherland. Funnily enough, he was no longer a father of anything now. I couldn't help but laugh at that,too. Now I -had- laughed at the death of his children, but I didn't feel too bad about it.
''You fucking idiot, you fucking monster.. I gave this country stability, I gave it wealth! I sent thousands to universities, gave fair treatment to both man and woman!'' he yelled. I would not engage in a debate. I knew the corruption, I knew of the men and women suddenly disappearing and never returning, I knew of all the places where his face was plastered. Mosques, markets, homes, squares, schools. His yelling increased and increased though. It became meaningless background buzzing for me. It did not matter, anyway. I had made my mind up a long time ago.
I opened the door and he stopped for a moment, looking at me with hopeful eyes. I lifted my gun and smacked him with the butt of the gun, knocking him out. A god, undone. I laughed again as the adrenaline surged through me. I had beaten a god. I kicked him in the stomach one more time. I had beaten a god again. I kicked once more. I had beaten a god again. I laughed harder, turned around, walked away and then shut the door again. My laugh echoed through the empty building. | 2014-12-26T09:04:22 | 2014-12-26T08:54:59 | 161 | 22 |
[WP] You have died, and then you find yourself standing over your body. You see that the Grim Reaper has come for you, and.. no twist, he’s just doing his job. You’re disappointed in the normality of it all actually. | I stood there dumbfoundedly gawking at the palm of my hands as I hear the sound of a siren surrounding me. I look behind me to see two men putting a body onto a spinal board as they slowly lift it into the back of an ambulance.
I soon notice the body was of a young man wearing a silver tan suit and a blue polka-dot tie. Wait a second. That’s me! But how am I at two different places at the same time I wonder?
Suddenly, I feel a warm touch on my shoulder.
I turn around but see no one behind me.
“This part of your cycle has ended, Micheal.” A voice whispered into my mind.
“Who is this?” I cried out. “What do you want from me?”
“I am who guide’s the soul of who have passed to their next task. Some know my name as the grim reaper, some know me as death, but all will know my face at some point.” The voice answered. “As for what i want, I only seek to fulfill my task.”
“Death?” I shouted out in denial. “I can’t be dead, not now. Things have only just started looking up for me.”
“You mean that the body over there doesn’t belong to Micheal Elwins?”
“No, I didn’t mean that. But I …. I…”
Suddenly, it all comes back to me.
I was just coming back to my apartment from an interview at a telecom company. Too joyous from getting the job, I crossed the road without looking both ways. And then suddenly a crash. My entire view flipped upside down, and then suddenly everything went black and the last thing I heard was a car driving away from me.
“Oh my god. I really am dead.” I said as I put my hand on my forehead.
Out of thin air, a black-robed figure materialized in front of me.
“Now that you remember and now that you believe, are you ready to proceed to the next stage?” The reaper asked.
“I … I don’t think I am. I mean all of this is too sudden for me.”
“No one is truly ready. I have taken the lives of many who expected death and many who wished it upon themselves, but I have yet to meet a single soul that was ready to face it.”
“Is that so?” I asked hesitantly. “So what happens now?”
“Now that you have passed the point of no return, we shall journey until the last bit of your soul’s flame fades into nothingness.”
“Nothingness?” I asked as we start walking. “So were all those religions talking about heaven, hell, and reincarnation wrong?”
“Don’t misunderstand me, Micheal. Even I don’t know what happens to one’s soul once it fades, for mine still flickers.”
“I guess I can’t expect you to know everything. Can I ask you something?”
“Our destination may be a long way ahead. So ask all you want, perhaps it would put your heart at ease.”
“Well then.” I said as I take a deep breath. “Does everyone walk the same path when they die?”
“Everyone goes on this very journey at some point, but not all land at the same destination. Because in the eyes of death, everyone is equal.”
“What about toddlers that can barely walk or cripples who have no legs, how do they go on the journey?”
“The journey is merely symbolical. It is more about pushing past they veils that attach you to your life, more than anything else. For some, I have to carry their candlelight between my palms, while for some others I carry their blaze on my back. If I didn’t, they would have had a painful and lonely journey. And no soul deserves that, even the cruelest ones.”
“But what about you?” I asked. “What will happen to you after I leave?”
“I shall continue my task with many others that await. And when the last soul shall pass, I must also walk down this path, till I join you on the other side.”
“But won’t you feel alone then? Didn’t you say that no one deserved to go through the journey alone?”
“Worry not. I already have to walk alone every time I put a soul to rest. After the first few hundred times, the quiet starts becoming nostalgic to you.”
“Then I refuse to fade.” I tell him as I muster all my courage. “I will stay here until everyone else passes, then we can both fade away together. At the end of the day, I have an eternity to wait.”
I hear a few chuckles come out of the grim reaper.
“I appreciate the sentiment. However, it looks like we have already arrived at our destination.” The reaper said as I see his slim hands point down at me.
Just like when I died, I look down at my palms and see that they have turned translucent.
“Will you be ok, Mr Grim?” I asked sounding worried.
“You are quite a thing, Micheal Elwins. It is not every day you see someone getting worried for the embodiment of death when they start fading into nothingness.”
“Well, I figured that you will still have an eternity of work ahead of you. While I will only continue existing as me for the next few seconds at most.”
“Don’t worry about an old man like me. You have done a great deed for me. I shall remember your kindred soul even when my flame starts to slowly fade.
As I begin to disappear I smile as I wave goodbye to him.
Even though I could hardly see it, I could barely make out the shape of a smile on grim’s face.
​
***Find my other works at*** [r/FluffWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/FluffWrites/)
***I am also working on a new fantasy writing series that I plan to become a huge thing in the future, so check that out too if it is to your taste ----->*** [The Dark Road Ahead. Chapter 0: Sacrifice](https://www.reddit.com/r/FluffWrites/comments/hybda2/series_the_dark_road_ahead_chapter_0_sacrifice/)**Chapter 2 has just come out!** | I stood over my dead body, staring down at the pale corpse of a human being that had once been me. How utterly fragile and empty it looked! Was I really the only difference between a living, breathing, human being and a dry husk of carbon atoms? I looked at my hands, translucent and wispy, and then looked up at the shadow that stood over my empty shell.
The Grim Reaper. Death. The Avenging Angel. Ba'ad Gul. Charon. I had heard many terms for it, but they all meant the same thing. The ferryman who shepherds souls from the mortal realm into the immortal realm. He--or she, I supposed, swathed in the enveloping black robes--bowed his hooded head, extending one pale, shriveled hand over my dead body as if in prayer. I watched in confusion, for it was not a symbol I was familiar with. Up, down, swirl, point.
Then Death turned that hooded face towards me. An impenetrable darkness filled the cowl, but two yellow orbs glowed from within, unblinking eyes staring at me.
The voice was decidedly androgynous and unexpectedly young as he asked, "Are you ready for your journey, or do you have unfinished business?"
I looked down at my body then up at the misty surroundings. I seemed to be standing in a fog-shrouded valley, low mountain peaks bare of anything but low, tough grass etched against the pale horizon. In truth, I couldn't remember if I had anything left to do. All I could remember was what I had done.
I looked at Death and asked, "Where will you take me?"
He--she?--it?--didn't answer, leaning against the sturdy shaft of his scythe like a walking stick.
"I wasn't a good person," I went on, glancing down at my shriveled husk again. "I killed a lot of people."
"Did you now?" Death asked with a vague sense of interest. I looked back up at him. His amber eyes twinkled like gemstones, and I imagined that he was amused.
I shrugged my incorporeal shoulders and replied, "Well, I _ordered_ the deaths. I don't see much difference really. It still merits eternity in hell, doesn't it?"
Death merely stared at me.
Confused by his lack of answer, I asked, "Will I go to heaven instead? I didn't believe in God. Would He accept me?"
Still no answer.
I chewed my ghostly lip and gazed back down at my body. The face was waxy and still, stretched taut with the wasting disease that had eventually ended my life. I saw no remorse in that sharp brow or sunken cheekbones. I was not a creature who deserved grace or forgiveness. It would surely be hell for me, or some equivalent thereof.
I met Death's silent gaze once more. "Well?" I prodded. "What's in the next life?" But he said nothing. Why wasn't he saying anything? What did he want from me? Wouldn't there be some huge revelation about the meaning of life? Or a vicious amusement at proving me wrong about the existence or importance of a higher being? Or... or _something_?
But Death just straightened from his scythe and asked once more, "Do you have unfinished business?"
"Look," I replied, "I was a very powerful man in my life. I was a leader, a conqueror. I never made decisions without knowing the full scope of things. So come on--what is next? What are my options?"
The amber orbs narrowed slightly as Death said with utmost patience, "Do you have any unfinished business?"
I sighed. I couldn't remember, so I just said, "No, I don't think so."
Extending a pale hand, voluminous sleeves fluttering, Death replied, "Then let us be on our way."
"So you won't tell me where I'm going?" I asked hopefully.
There was a hint of laughter in the voice issuing from within the hood. "Wouldn't want to spoil the ending for you."
I sighed in acceptance. After a moment, and with one last look at my body, I stepped out beside him, and we walked away into the mist.
r/aDittyaDay | 2020-08-02T10:47:08 | 2020-08-02T09:19:25 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] After a freak accident sending you far back in time, somehow you make a new life for yourself. One day while whistling a tune from the future to yourself; someone joins in with the correct lyrics ... | "You're looking mint today, Mary"
"Really?" she blushed.
"No you mardy cow, now piss off, go on, out of my yard!"
The scowling woman rolled her eyes and scurried away in a huff. She'd had her eyes on his garden for weeks now, and he had no doubt she'd be back sooner rather than later to collect some clippings.
It had been 3 years since he had moved to the sleepy village of Knutsford, but it felt much shorter in his mind. Gripping a wooden mug of tea, he closed his eyes and inhaled. Long gone were the metallic smells of the tour bus table, the blaring screeches from the announcer's microphone and the harsh hit of the flickering floodlights. Tranquility washed over him like a sheet. It reminded him of the needles, the pills he had taken for years, only to not even approach this bliss.
Opening his eyes, he smiled and began strolling along the lane. Perhaps a walk into the centre was what he needed on such a beautiful day. A pair of hobbling figures approached from the other direction, clearly in a hurry. He grinned as he kicked the crutch from the boys grip, watching him tumble into the unstable arms of his friend.
"Plenty more where that came from - I'm not snide, am I?" He laughed. He began to hum as the murderous stares bounced off his back and went unnoticed.
*Step outside, summertime's in bloom...*
So what if the townsfolk didn't like him? He was happy, which was all that mattered. Not as if the people back in his time liked him either, and he'd hardly lost a night's sleep over *that*. He did wonder if they thought about him though. A well familiar memory creeped into his brain, not for the first or hundredth time since the accident. The print magazines. The paparazzi. His brother. It was because of him that he had left in the first place. He could almost picture the bile spewing from the editor's fingers. Where was his brother this time? A drug fueled bender? A four day sex party in the Mediterranean? One article suggested that his brother was last seen at a popular nightclub in New York where people dressed in chains and leather. The knocks on the door. The sleepless nights of so called friends chiming in, asking him to join the search parties.
*Stand up beside the fireplace, take that look from off your face -
You ain't ever gonna burn my heart out...*
Instead, he had donned his cap, put on a pair of dark sunglasses, and slipped off in the early hours of the morning. The morning itself was hazy, but he remembered walking to the old well and wishing upon the change in his pocket. An easier, simpler place to live was all he wanted. In a way, he'd definitely gotten it.
As he approached the hairy, grizzled vendor, he burst out into song, the wordless tune suddenly springing forth into vocalization.
He was free. Free of that life, free of obligations. Free from him.
*And so Sally can wait, she knows it's too late as we're walking on by...*
The vendor, distracted by the street urchins running past, almost involuntarily whispered back.
"Her soul slides away..."
Shocked, their eyes met.
"But don't look back in anger, I heard you say..." he mumbled, choking on his words.
"Liam?"
"Noel?"
"OH FOR FUCKS SAKE!" | The song played in my head, like it always did. Its atmospheric melody, lulling me, making my head bob almost imperceptibly. I whispered the lyrics, as I always did. It helped get me through the day.
*I seen a girl*
*With a guy*
*Her hair like yours*
*From what I remember*
I hefted the block, putting it on my shaky shoulders. I carried it through the hot sands, struggling with every step. I saw a fellow slave being whipped for collapsing nearby. The scars on my back still pained.
*He took her hand*
*And smiled her name*
*Her face like yours*
*She smiled the same*
It seemed a fitting punishment. Flung into the past, Forced to slave away my sanity. At least I knew my work would stand the test of time. And yet, the song was the only thing keeping me grounded to reality.
*From what I remember*
*"Been so long since last December"*
I looked up. That last line... I looked up at the carriage being carried across the desert landscape. The pharaoh sat inside, surveying the work being done to the pyramids.
And next to him... there she was.
It was her.
Singing the song. *My* song.
I stood there, dumbfounded. A whip lashed out next to me, and I turned to see the same slave driver that lashed me last week.
I hefted the block and carried on like nothing had happened. She was the pharaoh's wife, and I was a broken man.
It was better this way.
*It's been so long since last December* | 2017-09-14T23:41:40 | 2017-09-14T16:16:56 | 252 | 45 |
[WP] After the discovery of magic, traditional firearms have fallen out of fashion and are banned worldwide. You are the last gunslinger, dedicated to preserving the ways of the gun. | The Butterfly and the Tree.
They say I'm the last one. There's no way to be certain, though. Like claiming the last butterfly in a forest. There's no real way to know, unless you burn it down.
I can feel all the eyes on me. Oh, The legend I've become. It's been months since I've walked through a crowd without murmurs and whispers spreading through it.
"Is that him?" They'd whisper. "That can't be. He's so old."
Yeah. I am old. But I'm as quick as I ever was and I'm sturdy as I'll ever be.
I could feel Hemlocks nerves begin to rise. The pace of his breath, the dampness of his ridiculous robe against my back, and I swear I can hear his heart beat. It sure as hell isn't mine I was hearing. I'm too old for nerves. What happens, happens, and everyone today knows what's going to happen...even me.
Hemlock. What a stupid name. This young buck shows up, claiming he's the best wizard in the country, and duel after duel in the pit he proved himself right. But wizard duels are different from gun duels. They don't walk paces, they don't stand back to back, they don't even see each other before it starts. Sometimes they even duel in the dark, it all depends on what the wizards agree to. It's not a tradition to them, it's a show. A sold out stadium with comfy chairs and a loud mouth hollering about a bunch of meaningless statistics. Oh, and it's never to the death, like this is.
Maybe that's why Hemlock is so nervous. Everyone knows he will win. Even I know. But there's still that slight chance that this last butterfly could do some damage to this young tree.
"Gentlemen. Ten paces. On my mark." I hear the mediator call. He's old, younger than me, but old enough to know the tradition. He makes sure we're back to back, he double checks my weapon is holstered, and he does whatever he can to make sure Hemlock doesn't magic too early. He's young though, they always go off early.
"Go."
I wait for Hemlocks back to leave mine. I've been ready for days, he still isn't. This kid that can stop my bullets dead and he is afraid. Maybe he doesn't want to kill the last slinger, or maybe he doesn't want to kill anyone. But I'm not walking until he does. I got nothin' but time.
Finally, I feel his weight leave my shoulders, and hear his robe peel off my leather as he takes his first step. I take mine. The only sound is our feet hitting the pavement. I didn't want this to be another spectacle. If Hemlock wants to prove he's the best in the country, he'd have to go through me on my terms.
Second step. The crowd gathered along the sidewalks look nervous and frightened. They aren't used to seeing a man die, even one as old as me.
Third step. My mind begins to wander. How is he going to kill me? Will it be fire? Ice? Daggers? I remember one duel of his I heard he summoned a mule that kicked his opponent into submission. Could I be kicked to death? It isn't ideal, but I know what I've signed up for.
Fourth step. I remember at this point in my early days, my adrenaline would kick in. Now I just think of how much further 6 steps is.
Fifth step. I realize how blue the sky is, and how colorful the meadow at the end of the lane is. I wonder if it's a new appreciation that I can see, but can't feel.
Sixth step. I remember the last time I did this. I walked 10 paces away from a man, turned, and shot him in the chest. He put a hole in my hat. The same hole that a feather sits in right now.
Seventh step. I make eye contact with a child on the sidewalk, he smiles and waves.
Eighth step. I'm waiting for my life to flash before my eyes, but so far, nothing.
Ninth step. My heart skips a beat at the thought of my life having one more step.
Ten. The silence is deafening. It's so quiet, I can hear the butterfly land on my chest.
"DRAW" the mediator yells.
I don't know if Hemlock has slowed time, or if this is what everyone talks about when they describe someone's last moments. As I begin to turn, the butterfly's wings begin to wave. They sound like helicopter blades. My body does everything I need it to, it turns, pulls my revolver, draws the hammer back. All I do consciously is pick a target.
The young wizards robe flashes wildly as he turns. His chest buried under a river of moving cloth. I pick my target based on where his neck is, and squeeze my trigger. The familiar pop never comes. In fact, no sound does.
I can see people on the sidewalk screaming, covering their mouths, pointing at me. What are they pointing at? As I look down I see the hole. A hole the size of an apple, right through my gut. It steams like a hot soup, and smells like burnt leather. I look up at Hemlock, who has a similar stance about him. He touches his chest and looks at his hand, dripping red. All that's left to do now, is stand longer than he does.
I can feel my feet quietly dancing below me, keeping me up right. I can see the color of Hemlocks face drain. He's got moments before he goes down. Ten steps seems like nothing now that I have to stay upright with my midsection missing.
Finally, the river of robes falls to the pavement. I feel my eyes close, and my knees buckle.
In this final moment, I smile. The tree fell before the butterfly. | They say a bullet's too slow. Too obvious. That someone could move their hands and have me on a wall before I could get a single shot off. Nowadays that's how the world works. Everyone's got magic and magic makes sense. No time for the exception anymore.
Well.
Then again.
--------------
It was high noon when the soldiers came. I watched from out my window as they trudged up those concrete steps looking like damn fools with their tight black unitards and shaved heads. That was all soldiers wore nowadays. For maximum mobility they needed no gear other than a small radio attached to their ear and for maximum evasion, they wore skin-tight and black unitards everywhere they went.
I draped the brown trench coat over my shoulders and tossed the hood up just in case some peeping tom had the nerve to ID my face. That was the last thing I needed right now. The leather suitcase beneath my bed had stayed there for the entire weekend like a good girl, but now she was so pent up she was ready to burst. "Shhh..." I whispered. I could hear her rattle when I threw her on the bed. Two clicks and a combination lock later, she bared herself to me butt naked and bent over. Susan Steel. I had her name engraved into the barrel. Custom .357, etched bamboo grip panels, black steel with a matte finish that *still* shined oh so beautifully, 12 shot extended cylinder with a quick-load mechanism, and 6 neat little reload cartridges looking like the 6 beautiful babies me 'n Sue were gonna have.
Mm. Lord help me.
I strapped up and placed the two back-up pieces into my belt and boot, Sue taking her rightful place right by my heart. There were five of those sons of bitches. Five. Took all my patience not to be insulted.
For years now they've been after me. You'd think magic would make that easy but ever since we learned what it really is, it's not so great. It takes a strong mind, first of all. The focus is the key. We didn't know how to focus right before, it was always thoughts of this problem and that appointment and 'What am I gonna do about my future!!' drilling the magic out of our heads. Once we learned it was focus that takes you there, quadriplegics became Gods. Introverted high schoolers became criminals. Our minds, once weaponized, fought back and the world flipped over on its head. But me? I kept my balance.
It's been 12 years since I started shooting. I was 16 when I first picked up a gun. Too young to be careful, but too old to kill myself. I did some stupid shit I'll admit it right now and back then, just 6 years before the Magic, the guns were what helped me do 'em. But then I learned better, as we all do with time, and I mellowed out. All I wanted to do was live a peaceful life at home, hunting my food and growing my berries, but the U.S. government knew I had guns. They'd searched through the registries and found everyone. If you didn't give up your guns, they took them. If you fought back, they took your life with 'em. Different circles have different names for what happened. Some call it the Cleansing. Others call it the Repo. Nowadays, I tend to just call it the starting line.
Patience, you learn while hunting. A lot of times, it's not about putting *yourself* in the perfect line of sight, it's about letting your prey walk right into it. Ever heard of those 300 spartans? They had the right idea. I walked with haste into the hallway of the hotel I was staying in and measured the distances with my eye. Good enough, I thought. I busted open every door on my side of the staircase and told anyone left to get the hell out. Most of the time, I barely had to say a word. The look of a gun usually does the talking for you.
The doors were open.
The people were safe.
My guns were loaded.
I was ready. | 2016-07-11T19:39:20 | 2016-07-11T18:43:45 | 71 | 24 |
[WP] For centuries, people with weak magical powers were laughted at. It wasn't until recently when people like you showed just how scary those people could be when they are creative with their 'weak' powers. | Things had always been this way, historians said. The rules were made by the strongest, the fittest of the species. It was nature's way. While the bear's that put on the most fat and hibernated the best survived the winter, and the trees that grew the tallest survived to breach the rainforest canopy to bask in the sunlight, the humans with the most destructive powers ruled society.
It was the only way after all. How could a person with the ability to speak to animals combat someone that could open a crevasse large enough to swallow a small army? How could a person that could make flowers bloom ever hope to defeat a person able to shoot radioactive lasers from their eyes that could burn through steel? It's better to soothe them and kneel before the ones that could destroy you, let them duke it out for who could be king.
Lynn had always agreed, it wasn't worth being upset about it, after all, they weren't bad people just because they had bad powers, she would know, as royal physician, she'd been with every ruling family since she was just a child and her power had been found. She was a healer, able to reach inside the bodies of those in her view and urge the body to quickly take fuel to the cells closest to an injury, tell the nerves to quiet and block the pain, nudge the cells along to hurriedly knit a wound together, convince the blood to stay inside, no matter how large the gash. She'd been with them through every scraped knee, every battle, every birth. Nearly 40 years she'd served the royals, every single family that had fought to gain the throne from their equals.
When rumors swirled of rebellion, of commoners imprisoning or killing their masters, Lynn hadn't really listened or cared, it was of no concern to her. Whatever happened, she'd stay in her place as she always had, in her little home behind the castle, serving anyone in need of her powers.
Until the palace guard dragged her youngest child from her bed. Lynn had stood confused and terrified, begging to know where they were taking her child and what she had done to deserve this. Sarah was already gone by the time she'd gotten her answer. The second oldest prince had demanded her to be brought to his room.
Lynn hadn't understood, she'd known the man from the moment his mother had brought him into this world, he was a good boy despite his ability to burn through most materials with his hands, he'd been raised alongside Sarah, Lynn had been his nursemaid, the two had been playmates. She loved him almost as if he were her own kin.
Sarah's body was tossed lifeless from the balcony an hour later, her throat burned so badly that she was nearly decapitated.
Lynn found out the next day that prince Derek had been attempting to court her darling Sarah as a mistress and Sarah had adamantly refused, demanding she be his wife or she'd find another man to marry. A numb Lynn was told this by a disapproving guard, almost as if she should be ashamed for raising a child so stupid as to deny the request of royalty when Sarah's powers extended no further than the ability to change the colors in the cloth she made.
Lynn held it together as she washed and wrapped Sarah's body in first a plain white funeral shroud, then in Lynn's favorite tapestry Sarah had ever made for her.
Soon Sarah was gently tucked into a wicker casket and Lynn was left with nothing to do but stare at her empty hands. Lynn stared intently at one hand, and for no discernable reason, told the skin across her palm that it shouldn't be there, that the cells must pull themselves apart. She watched the skin separate before her eyes, revealing flesh, vessels, sinew, and bone. Her blood began to slowly seep into the deep gash and drip slowly onto the carpet in front of her. It was absolute agony, it matched the explosive pain inside her.
Her plan struck her then, and from the moment it formed, there were no alternatives. she gently kissed her daughter's covered head and exited the house.
Lynn began towards the suites of the royals. | The Vandenburg bloodline had been ridiculed for centuries. While all the other wizard bloodlines had become dominant power players across the world, with their ability to conjure spells, demons, destroy and create, the Vandenburg’s had been relegated as laughingstocks. Whereas the wizarding cabal pulled strings in Berlin, Paris, Tokyo, and even Washington D.C., the Vandenburgs were left to their small, traditional estate in northern Europe. The reason was simple: their bloodline ability sucked.
They couldn’t create fire, or ice, or a familiar. They couldn’t compel others. All they could do was split. Be it a table, or a chair, in at least one war, a person; the one thing the Vandenburg’s could do was split something into two. It had its uses, and the fact that they could do any magic at all put them above the common rabble and meant that the magical societies of the world, albeit reluctantly, had to accept them. Occasionally one of the family would be invited to intimidate or persuade someone for diplomatic or criminal reasons. Otherwise they were ignored.
Things were changing however. Rapidly. The German Eagle was leaping off from its evil roost and conquering continental Europe. At the same time the Japanese Sun was rising over East Asia and the pacific. Karl Vandenburg, the latest heir, wanted nothing to do with the darkness staining the Old World, and started desperately looking for a way out.
His salvation came in the form of a confidential letter, delivered by a jet black raven. A familiar no doubt. Inside the letter was an invitation from the American Magical Society to participate in a special, top secret, project. Karl packed his bags and hopped on a ship, proud in the fact that his abilities would soon be acknowledged.
Kind of, anyway. Most of the Magical Society ridiculed him, aside from one bespectacled young man named Peter. Karl would quickly learn that Peter was the one who invited him. Karl would also quickly learn that Peter was involved in more then one secret organization.
Peter escorted Karl from the East Coast all the way into the Southwestern desert. There he gave him the request that would soon turn the Vandenburgs into the most powerful magical family in the world:
“If you can split anything Karl, can you split an atom?” | 2022-11-11T00:11:04 | 2022-11-10T23:44:08 | 248 | 92 |
[WP] You are a "con-man superhero". You draw the attention of villains, pretend to have powers and keep them occupied until a real hero with real powers arrives on the scene. You are so good at your job, that no-one is entirely sure whether you are truly powerless or not. | Dudley, as usual, was first onto the scene.
“Boy oh boy,” Dudley whistled loudly, surveying the damage left by Strain, who jumped around from city block to city block. “That’s a lot of damage.”
Shattered windows and broken lamp posts was but a taste of the destruction that Strain had thus far caused—there was also the black, gooey substance that behaved inexplicably like a living thing. It snaked around every broken thing, as if feeding off the destruction, and remained an ungodly black even with the bright sun overhead.
Strain, black veins rippling under his skin, hissed, and carefully dropped down on the street. He was a grotesque specimen of a man, stretched and squashed disparately through his body, but at all the wrong places. He turned an elongated head towards Dudley, and snarled.
“You,” the villain said. “You are the Liar.”
“Hurtful,” Dudley shook his head. “And unnecessary. I’m just a citizen, trying to point out whatever injustice I can.”
Strain chuckled, a guttural voice that sent chills down Dudley’s spine.
“I’m not stupid, Liar,” Strain said. “You are here to waste time. I will not fall for your tricks.”
Dudley gulped. There were villains who were dumb as rocks. There were those more clever than a wit. And then there was those with an overinflated sense of their own intelligence—generally a deadly combination with unbridled superpowers.
“I… of course, Strain. You are only trying your best.”
The villain howled, stalking towards Dudley and swiping at him with a engorged hand.
“Tell me!” Strain said. “Tell me! What’s wrong with this?”
“Strain,” Dudley said, concerned. “I really think you might be sick. Have you seen what’s coming out of your mouth?”
Strain growled again, but spared a glance towards the destruction in his wake. He stopped for a moment, rearing his head, before tilting it to the side in apparent confusion.
“All this black goo is coming from me?”
“Strain,” Dudley said, carefully approaching the enemy. “I’m really sorry to say this, but I think you caught some new disease again.”
“That can’t be,” Strain said. “I should be clean. Cleaner than ever. So I can cleanse this city.”
Dudley sighed, turning away from the scene, continuing to shake his head slowly.
“I wish that were how it works, Strain, really,” Dudley said. “But you gotta cut everything. Your powers make you extra susceptible to picking up stuff like this, you know? This might be some sort of alien symbiote, for all we know.”
“My god,” Strain said, horror flashing across his face. “An… alien? On Earth?”
“I don’t know, it could be,” Dudley shrugged. “But don’t worry, alright? Because Destiny is here to help you.”
A streak of light burst overhead, heralding the arrival of Destiny. In seconds, a figure wreathed in a yellow aura emerged from the brightness, placing one hand onto Strain.
“Stop resisting,” a clear voice rang out across the street. But Strain was already subdued, putting his own head between his hands.
“No, no,” he whispered. “No, no. This can’t be.”
Dudley turned away from the sight, only to find himself face-to-face with Captain Quinn.
“Dudley,” the enormous, muscled man said. “Another successful delay for our forces to take control.”
“This time,” Dudley whispered. “I think I got him mostly subdued on my own.”
“Well,” the Captain extended a hand. “Regardless, you helped save this city.”
Dudley sighed, taking his hand, limply shaking it a few times. All that really mattered was that he left the scene via his own two legs. He was happy enough with that.
“Well then,” Quinn said, smartly saluting. “I assume you are off to your daily business?”
“Yes,” Dudley said. “If anything happens, I’m sure you’ll be there.”
“Good luck, then,” the Captain said.
“Don’t need it,” Dudley smiled. “Never had it.”
---
r/dexdrafts | "And who are you, mortal?" The entity's disapproval was apparent even with no spoken word.
"Comic Con", I thought back, a wry smile curling on my lips.
"And you're here to fight me?"
"No, I'm here to rock you to sleep."
The nebulous haze of the thought made it clear that he(?) didn't get the sarcasm.
"And how do you intend to do that, puny human?"
Fucking Drax. I needed to dumb it down for this asshole.
"What is a Drax?"
The question you should be asking is Why is a Drax, you pigeon brained poopsucker.
The entity grew dark. "Why is a Drax?"
Have you heard of the five humors? Do you know why I call myself the Comic Con?
"I am aware of that thing you call humor..."
Do you know why Drax likes Samsung phones?
"Do NOT interrupt me human! And why is a Drax? And what do they do with Samsung phones? I'm listening."
'Cos he's a Guardian of the Galaxy.
"Like what you call a God"
Only if you're Godmatic.
"What is Godmatic?"
You know? For a species that knows literally every truth in the universe, you seem to know little about me. Or Drax. Or Godma.
"Do not tempt me human. I know of your humors. I will suck them out of your eyeballs in an instant if you don't tell me who you are and what you do"
I don't care who you are. What you do. Where you're from. As long as you love me.
"You... love me?"
Of course! Look I said I was Comic Con. What's your name?
(silence)
Ok. Can I call you Joe?
"That is not what I am called."
Come on man, give me something. Here we are, getting to know one another, talking about humor and I don't know how to address you.
"I am £t4`(¢πJjDrassch, the Destroyer of Worlds, the Omniscient, the Everstrong"
Ok, Drax, Destroyer of Worlds, I'll..
"That is not my name!"
But that's the only way I as a puny human with limited communication can say it. And what's more, I'll show your omniscient majesty the Guardians of the Galaxy, and Drax and all your remaining questions will be answered.
"Ok. I will spare you for that time..."
I sense an unfinished thought, Drax.
"...and because you love me."
Wonderful, I gleamed. Follow me. | 2022-08-11T09:23:45 | 2022-08-11T08:33:24 | 125 | 89 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | Bryce Morrison thought he had it all: a loving wife, a charming son, and a satisfying job. Yet there was something that nagged at him - a constant feeling that he wasn't good enough.
On The Day of the Mugs, his suspicions appeared to be confirmed. "#598,432 Dad." The jarring bold words remained seared in his memory throughout the day, clouding every action and every word.
After work, Bryce returned to an empty house. Marie was out for dinner with friends and Billy had soccer practice. Perhaps a few hours of SportsCenter would help ease his mind. But alas, there came a sudden knock at the door.
"Hey there, bud!"
Bryce opened the door to discover Tom Gilbert, a fellow father from across the street. He clutched a mug in his hand that read "#49,534 Dad."
"I was just wonderin' if you had any interest in a nice homemade hamburger. We've got some leftovers from the cookout."
Bryce narrowed his eyes. "Actually, I was thinking of cooking a bit myself. Mind if I drop by?"
Tom took a sip of his drink and lifted an eyebrow. "Uhhh...sure. By all means."
Bryce ran back to the kitchen and pulled a fresh ground beef patty out of a refrigerator drawer. He bolted across the street, dropped the patty on Tom's grill, and started to cook it. *This'll be the best damn burger ever made,* he thought. *I'll show that smug bastard.*
It was, by all accounts, a pretty damn good burger. Tom took a bite and gave him the thumbs up.
***
The next morning, Bryce's mug read "#432,726."
Not good enough.
Bryce asked to take his vacation early, left a note for the family, and began searching for every potential dad in the county. He went to small businesses, office buildings, parks and parking lots, challenging anyone that would listen. He fixed motors, went fly fishing, played 30 rounds of golf and showed impeccable taste in microbreweries.
As the week progressed, his rank continued to climb. But at a certain point - roughly 200,000 - it plateaued.
For a moment, Bryce was tempted to smash the mug, right then and there. He tried some more Dad Tasks - refurbishing a porch, buying a new polo wardrobe - but nothing worked. The rank plummeted, and soon it was back in the range of 500,000.
Bryce drove home, dejected. He'd been texting Marie throughout the week, but she didn't seem to understand the nature of his quest. Then again, how could she?
His wife and son embraced him the moment he stepped inside.
"Daddy, I missed you!" Billy cried, dropping his Lego truck to the ground. Marie looked understandably irritated but kissed him on the cheek nonetheless.
Bryce sighed. "I just couldn't stand it. I never thought I was a good dad, and that mug proved it."
Marie chuckled and shook her head. "What's a number got to do with anything?"
Billy hugged his father's leg. "I love you no matter what, Daddy!"
Bryce smiled and patted him on the head.
Over the next few days, the rank on the mug slowly began to climb again, but it sat dormant in a kitchen cabinet. Within a week, Bryce forgot it had ever existed.
*I might not be perfect,* he decided. *But I'm good enough.*
***
Thanks for reading! If you'd like to see more of my stories, check out /r/GigaWrites. | Startled awake by a hand on his throat, Jamie flinched hard, the thumb digging in deeper.
"Is this some sick fucking joke, Jamie"!" Bill roared, squeezing a little tighter. "Answer me, you little shit!"
Opening his eyes to slits, Jamie took a raspy breath. As his eyes fell upon the mug sloshing whiskey all over his bed, he realized instead of "#1 Dad" like it had said 4 years before, when Grammy had gotten it for her son, instead... That was too many digits for Jamie to even try to guess how high the number was.
"N-No sir... I don't know why it says that." Jamie squeaked out, barely able to make a sound with the meaty hand still on his throat.
"You know you're lucky, right? Your whore of a mom just walked the fuck out because she didn't want a little fucking brat like you. You know that, right?" Bill squeezed again, releasing his son after the boy nodded. "If I find out you had anything to do with this, it'll be another month in the punishment hole."
"Y-y-yes, so-sir. the terrified boy managed.
"Go the fuck back to sleep, and don't piss yourself or you're doing the laundry."
With a slam of the door, Bill shuffled drunkenly back to the couch, and flipped from the crap porno to the news, a rerun from when he had been asleep.
"Well, John, it looks like all mugs that once said #1 Dad now show their real ranking. It appears that even just painting #1 Dad onto a mug forces it to change into the proper number."
The last noise Jamie heard before he sobbed himself to sleep was his fathers yelling, and a ceramic mug exploding upon hitting his bedroom door.
| 2021-11-17T12:05:14 | 2017-06-11T08:52:12 | 4,068 | 187 |
[WP] When you die you go to a mall where each store represents an afterlife. The karma you've accrued in life is the currency you may spend at each store. You may pick any afterlife according to your taste and your budget. | "...what the fuck," the young man muttered, trying to rub the headache from his forehead, glancing about as he tried to process this sudden turn of events. That and the rather large neon sign hanging from the ceiling in front of him.
**Afterlifes-R-Us**
"...Afterlife? What the...I'm not dead," he protested, thinking out loud, brow furrowed. He was sure of this. He'd been lounging in the sun, a shadow had fallen over him, and then his head hurt, but the man was certain he was still alive.
"Well, sir, actually...you are," a woman called from nearby, drawing his attention. "Evan Daniels, age 22, correct," she questioned, smiling at his nod. "Very good...let's see here...cause of death is listed as 'Gunshot to the head.'"
"Hold up! I was shot?"
"Well, yes...by an Abigail Menedez," the clerk replied, her features seeming to shift as Evan focused on her, keeping the same general shape, but changing the details. Always slightly sharp, always beautiful, and always with a small scar under her left eye.
"Ab-...Abby did this? Why would Abigail shoot me," the newly deceased asked, panic and confusing creeping in.
"The record says there was a misunderstanding regarding a woman named Katy, but it is rather vague. Or rather, still pending investigation and logging," the clerk responded, rising from her seat to snag a nearby paper before making her way to him.
"My name is Sara, Mr. Daniels. And I'm your afterlife consultant."
"My what now," he squawked, staring blankly at her.
"Afterlife consultant. You see...none of the religions down there quite got it right. They hit the key points, mind you, but...they lost the grand scheme of it. Throughout your life, you accrued karma. And no, its not those silly internet points from reddit," she added, cutting off his half formed questioned, Evan visibly deflating. "I get that one a lot," Sara quipped with a smile.
"You accrued karma, which you can now spend to buy your ideal afterlife. Or...at least the best one that you can afford or deserve. And I'm here to help you do it," she announced happily, bouncing on her feet.
"And you have a great deal saved up, especially for someone so young, so shall we get started?"
===
"...I have to spend it all," Evan groaned, staring down at the tablet in his hands. "Why in God's name do I need spend it all?"
"I'm sorry, sir, but those are the rules."
"Isn't there like...some kind of karmic 'take a penny, leave a penny' or something? C'mon, there's gotta be something. I don't need the rest of this," the young man protested.
_ba-deep_
His eyes were drawn down to the "Remaining Balance" window, which had suddenly increased by another K1,000.
"...well...fuck." | "Dead, huh? Neat" I muttered as I walked through this ginormous mall. "Damn this place is clean..."
"Sir, can I help you pick an afterlife?"
"Yeah, sure. What do you have in stock?"
"We have an afterlife for you where you live a brand new life and every day is whatever you want it to be."
"How much?"
"5k"
"Holy shit, I'll skip."
"How much karma do you have?"
"3k"
"You could get Afterlife #902... Although no one does buy it."
"What is #902?"
"It's 1.5k and you get an afterlife spent where you just... do whatever. Everything that can happen to you that is good does happen."
"Yeah alright, I'll take it."
"What about the other half? Do you want extras?"
"I'll take shapeshifting for 400 karma... and I'll spend 100 karma to share it with someone. Give the 1000 left to Kurtis Murgensein when he arrives. As for who I'll spend the afterlife with... I'll spend it with the one person I loved before she committed suicide... Josie Kervan."
"Step this way sir." I smiled as a white door appeared before me and opened. "I told you I'd meet you again Josie. I told you." | 2017-02-23T15:55:33 | 2017-02-23T13:35:45 | 14 | 10 |
[WP]An alien invasion is immanent. NASA is in contact with the aliens. Without warning a young NASA intern sends a message to the aliens, to which they reply "accepted". NASA reviews the message, it reads " 1v1 me bro". | "Why?" I asked, anger seething from my teeth. In front of me is NASA's widest and largest computer screen, and displayed on that computer screen is a message thread you'd expect from someone's phone. The texts are inside fluffy transparent clouds and behind them is a picture of a cat and a doge, playing ball.
The messages read as follows;
*Unknown: Hello Earthling.*
*NASA: Hello.*
*Unknown: I am Mirr, the future ruler of the cosmos, as my visions had proclaimed. I am here with my soldiers and followers in order to fulfill my destiny.*
*NASA: Wat's that?*
*Unknown: To conquer Earth. This message is a warning, surrender peacefully and I will not harm a single being in this beautiful blue planet.*
*NASA: What will happen if we don't?*
*Unknown: I will crush all of humanity with my overwhelming might.*
*NASA: I don't believe you.*
*Unknown: ...What?*
*NASA: I said I don't believe you. If you're that great, then how about you 1v1 me?*
*Unknown: It's inappropriate for me to use my power to crush a single human.*
*NASA: You're just scared. Piss off, Mirr, this "beautiful blue planet" can do without you.*
*Unknown: I see... I have heard of the human capability for insult, I didn't knew it was this... effective. I've underestimated you. Very well, let us battle. Give me a moment to be ready, I will be there.*
*NASA: Okie dokie, have a safe trip. Just to be clear, we'll be battling under my conditions. No backsies.*
*End of Message*
"Just why?" I continued my line of inquiry and faced the culprit, my stupid intern. She was little despite being in her early 20's and it seems like puberty had also missed her mind. "This is no joke, there's seriously a large spaceship orbiting the earth!"
"I thought it was a good idea," she answered, completely innocent with no hint of sarcasm. "Don't worry boss, I got this."
I was about to press her with more questions with the intention to scold her, but she just ran around, putting a table in the middle of the room and two chairs. She stopped for a moment and asked me whether she should prepare drinks, I just looked at her incredulously. A second later, electricity cackled and a hole of unknown entity appeared in front of the huge computer screen. And out came someone.
"Hello, I am Mirr," said the someone. Mirr is donned in armor of unknown materials and has a face similar to that of a human, only that Mirr's skin is purplish. What freaked me out was the eyes. Mirr has a lot of them. Two on each arm, three on each legs, three on the face with the two you'd expect from a normal human and the other one at the forehead. Only the two "human" eyes are opened.
"Wow, you look handsome up close," said the intern, lacking any sense of dread or panic. I was too baffled to admire her normalcy in front of the alien.
I've taken this alien's claim for the cosmos' throne with full skepticism, but I felt my legs quiver and head bowed when Mirr entered the room. For a moment, I truly felt Mirr was the King of all.
"Thank you, but I'm not here to be praised. Show me your champion, earthling woman," said Mirr and I felt my bones chill at the voice of the ruler.
"It's me," said my intern.
"What?" asked Mirr.
"I'm the Champion, Stacy Truman," she announced her name proudly and amiably.
"I see. I assume you were also the one who issued the challenge?"
"Yep, care for some coffee before we get started?" asked Stacy.
"No, let's proceed swiftly to battle," declared Mirr.
"Okay, suit yourself," Stacy then picked a coin from her pocket. "Heads I win, tails you lose. Deal?"
"That is your challenge?" asked Mirr incredulously. "You mock me, woman." Mirr then opened the eye on the forehead and saw the future. The face of the King then turned to shock. "I-Impossible! H-how could this be?! How could I lose every single time..."
"You know, we haven't discussed what will happen when either of us wins," said Stacy, chill covering her voice. "I wonder what will I do to those beautiful eyes of yours if I win..."
"Stop!" the supposedly ruler of the cosmos screamed, dread and despair breaking out. "I give up... please let me walk away with the shame, and I promise to never come back here again."
"Okay," Stacy beamed. "Now shoo away, I've got a lot of cleaning to do."
And so Mirr left together with the huge spaceship threatening to land on earth. It was... anti-climactic.
"How...?" I didn't found the words to say, but my supposedly idiot intern just outwitted the future ruler of the universe with a simple trick. The absurdity made me forgot to talk like a normal human being.
"Easy boss, Mirr's my idiot little brother," she said before clicking a button in her watch. Causing her skin to turn purple and eyes appearing on her body. "Well then boss, I'll be resigning. Need to minimize my brother's cause for conquest and such," she then kissed me on the lips, the eye on her forehead looking at me mischievously. "Thanks for teaching me that trick," she winked at me, one eye at each body part. And then she left at the same way Mirr did.
"Huh, so that just happened," I then looked around at the mess those siblings had made. "She forgot to clean up!" | "WHO SENT THE MESSAGE?!" screamed the boss.
"I don't know Sir! It was just sent from our mainframe 10 minutes ago under a guest account!" said his co-worker, knowing his job and life was on the line.
"The President is counting on me to get to the bottom of this. The whole world could be in danger! Do your job properly and figure out how to stop this! What the f**k does '1v1 me' even mean?"
Suddenly the glass door slid open, revealing the young intern. He'd only been there a couple of days, and it's safe to say he wasn't liked by the others. Some of the employees were top astronomers, they'd had tens of years of experience and he was just 'a kid who wanted to be an astronaut'.
"YOU... Did you send it?"
"Send what?"
"The message"
"What message?"
"The one delivered to the gosp... I mean... alien -_-."
"Ohhhh yea you mean the challenge I sent him? HAH, there's nothing to worry about. I've got it covered."
The boss leaned forward. He took a good look at the intern. The boss remembered the day he first joined NASA. He'd always been fascinated by space as a kid. Born on the 29th of July 1958, his parents always made an effort to arrange a space-themed birthday party.
Before the boss could question him any more, a sudden thud came from above as shards of glass began falling near the corners of the room. All speech was muted while an extremely loud humming came from above. Everyone looked up to see a metallic floating probe. It hovered like an F-35, but no figure could be seen.
The communication protocol display went blank all of a sudden and simply displayed the letter:
"k"
The room became surrounded by men wearing armour with the letters 'FBI' painted on the bulletproof vests over their shoulders, like an army of kids flocking to an ice cream van.
Without a second to spare, the ship let out a sudden burst of light. Everyone in the room disintegrated into flesh and dust. Everyone except the intern.
"Show yourself! It's time to fight like real men!" screamed the intern at the top of his voice. It became very obvious he was scared.
Behind the smoke emerged the most beautiful girl you'd ever see. Her eyes reflected the light like stars. Her face lit up the room like the sun. He was blown away and was about to start running to her until...
"Tim? Tim??" whispered a muffled voice from behind. "Tim I want to talk to you."
It was at this point the intern realised what he had got himself into.
Tim was depressed. The employees were the people he worked around. Always avoiding him because of his disability. The FBI was the force of work pushing against him. Space was the inescapable paradox that he'd always been able to escape it, he'd just been afraid.
"Tim. I wanted to say I'm sorry about what happened at the reunion. Those people you work around treated you like shit! And then the police came because it got out of control! I can't believe what happened tonight. And anyway, most people just spent the whole night texting each other."
Tim had worked out the missing piece. His life wasn't working because there was nothing to power it. The alien was his girlfriend. The most important thing in the world. No fight was to be created. Only a battle of love, emotion and sympathy.
He turned his head to see the most beautiful girl in the world peeping through the hole between the door and wall. The floors creaked as he walked over to the door and hugged her. It was the warmest hug that'd ever been created. Tim understood what he'd been missing.
[My first WP. Interesting ending, definitely not what you'd expect. But I felt it'd be nice to see a slightly different type of story due to the recent events and the troubles we're going through right now.] | 2016-07-26T20:02:00 | 2016-07-26T19:49:47 | 56 | 26 |
[WP] You lay dying of heart failure, and God enters your mind. He informs you that you will be reincarnated upon death, losing all memory, but before that happens you are allowed to ask any one question. The answer to your question surprises you so much that your heart restarts and you survive. | Falling away to unconsciousness is... different when you die. Instead of the fade away to blackness, the experience felt similar to taking a lift down. It was disorentating; just a moment ago, I was rushing forward at 50 kilometres per hour.
And down I went, the wind whooshing upwards around me. After a minute, I stopped in front of a woman, dressed to the nines in black.
"Huh, I didn't know God would be a woman." I remarked out loud.
"THAT'S WHAT MOST PEOPLE THOUGHT AS WELL." God's voice boomed with a touch of feminity. "HERE'S THE DEAL, YOU ASK A QUESTION, YOU GET AN HONEST ANSWER. AND YOU MOVE ON TO YOUR NEXT LIFE"
I opened my mouth to speak, but stopped myself just in time.
"SMART MOVE, CONSIDERING THE FACT THAT YOU ATTEMPTED TO IMPRESS A GIRL BY USING TWO FIRE EXTINGUISHERS TO PROPEL YOURSELF ON A SKATEBOARD."
She said disappointingly, with all too familiar the tone used by my mother whenever I was caught doing something idiotic. "YOU KNOW YOU HAVE A WEAK HEART JAMES, AND NOW IT HAS FINALLY ABANDONED YOU."
I shot her a look. Before going back to thinking about my one question.
This one question was the only thing before my true death. A new life without any memories meant that i would cease to exist. I imagined all the questions I could ask, like the meaning to life, immortality, and all those other popular questions which would be ultimately useless to me in the end.
Eons passed, and God sat crossed legged to me, quietly waiting for my answer.
"Ah screw it, it doesn't matter to me anymore what question I ask," I said frustrated, "Was the girl ever impressed with what I did anyways?"
"YES, SHE WAS," said God with an amused smile. "IS THAT AL-"
The happiness coursed through me. And I could hear my heartbeat again.
"SCORE!" I cried.
But there was no God to hear my cry of happiness, only the clean white appearance of the hospital room, and a surprised looking blonde girl beside me.
"Double score!" | "So you're god, huh?"
YES.
"And you say I get to ask one question of you before I die?"
THAT IS CORRECT.
"Well hot dang! I wonder what I should ask?"
I WOULDN'T KNOW.
At that moment, there was a whirl of panic in my hospital room, with nurses and doctors running every which way. In a delerium I had not experienced a moment ago, I heard the staff talking about how I'd be making a full recovery if the current test results were accurate. | 2014-08-03T06:31:00 | 2014-08-03T04:13:16 | 101 | 36 |
[WP] The current rulers of the galaxy exert their dominance by showing showing new races a glimpse of their terrifying nature inevitably either driving the unfortunate victims mad or causing them to retreat in fear. It does not work on humans however, they are used to it | Across a thousand worlds our form inspires fear, as is only right at the sight of perfect apex predators , naturally triggering terror in the lesser prey of the galaxy.
Teeth like knives, skin like scaled armor, claws that can rend flesh to the bone. We are majestic.
The species of most worlds bow down upon our arrival, their own instincts informing them that they have no chance to survive.
With bases across the galaxy our military might is unrivaled and the populations of countless worlds offer sacrifices of their own people to sate our appetites.
Encountering a new world we identify radio traffic from a sentient species. From their broadcasts we decipher images of their form. They look *pink*, unarmored, *delicious*.
We identify a smaller continent with a pleasing climate and only moderately populated by the native dominant species. It will make an ideal site from which to start the invasion.
As the cloaked ship settles to the ground our first wave of the elite scouts, some of the finest soldiers of the empire filter down the ramps and into the undergrowth. Their job: to collect samples of the natives for study and... *lunch* .
Live feeds from the retinal implants of the scouts cover one wall of the bridge.
A scout is sliding through the water, approaching 2 of the pink-fleshed natives in a flimsy craft...
Finally one of them sees it's doom, it bears it's teeth in what must be some kind of fight or flight reflex and bellows something. The sound is fed into the translation matrix.
But suddenly something unexpected, rather than fleeing or staying frozen the native leaps upon the scout, wrapping it's pink fleshy arms around him.
It bellows more of the natives strange honking language.
The fight is intense, he rolls in the water trying to drown the native but it clings on and starts wrapping something around his jaws and legs.
From the other side of the room the translation matrix finally starts interpreting the native's shouts.
"Crikey mate! you're a big beaut!"
On the screen our soldier is unceremoniously hauled into a wooden craft, wrapped in netting.
We see that the other native is holding some kind of lensed apparatus, possible some kind of weapon?
The first has turned to it and is talking again.
"Now before we move it to a new habitat, we need to check if this is a boy or a girl, [I think Pat should be the one to do the sexing](https://www.themorningbulletin.com.au/news/i-had-the-gloves-the-alligator-had-the-cloaca/1848624/), now crocs have what's called a cloaca and..."
As the native on the screen pulls on gloves the bridge crew freeze into a rictus of horror | I sat watching the news, petting my cat, Harry.
"A civil war has broken out in South Sudan once again, with estimated deaths in the 100 thousands. Around 500,000 child soldiers- Breaking news: a massive object has entered the atmosphere. Scientists cannot recognize any part of it. The government-"
I perked up my head, suddenly interested. It wasn't every day aliens invaded the planet. Harry sprang off me, apparently finding interest in his own hairball I hadn't cleaned up yet.
"Greetings, Earthlings," I turned my head back to the screen. This was definitely aliens. Now the big question was, would they be nice aliens, or mean ones?
"Behold the terrible wrath of the Kathraxi,"
100% mean ones. The screen turned to millions of starving aliens. (I don't really have time to finish. Someone remind me to come back later) | 2019-06-11T07:56:44 | 2019-06-11T05:53:12 | 4,721 | 99 |
[WP] You're walking to work, then suddenly a person in a white suit appears and says "Uh yeah I've accidentally permanently stopped time and it'll take me 2 months to fix it, but somehow you're not frozen in time. But hey, whatever object you touch should still work, so uh good luck and have fun." | What do you do when you find yourself stuck in a world where time has stopped but only for you?
This all began about a month ago when this guy dressed in white appeared out of nowhere.
He just stood there and suddenly I could hear a voice inside my head.
"There's been a mistake. Time's frozen and for some reason you aren't affected. I think I can get it fixed in a couple of months. In the mean time I'll grant you the ability to unfreeze objects that you touch."
It was a rainy day so it was pretty obvious this wasn't a joke.
At first I thought I was dreaming and so I decided to punch myself in the face. Boy did I feel stupid after doing that.
I tried touching other people but sure enough it only worked on inanimate objects like he said.
The first week I just focused on getting by and waited out for the time to pass, but being alone for so long is not something I think humans were made for.
I mean there wasn't much to entertain me either. My TV and laptop turned on when I touched them but without other people in the world so to say there was nothing to see on TV, the Internet did not work because there was no way for me to unfreeze the whole global network infrastructure.
Video games could've been a solution I guess but there were more pressing matters on my mind.
I tried going around in search of other people that might've been unfrozen as well.
Who knows? Maybe the guy in white had missed someone.
I roamed for days, searched every building, every house in the city. Nothing.
Nearby cities turned out to be a disappointment as well so, by week 3 I decided I would go abroad. Farther than the neighboring countries.
Who knows? Maybe this thing had a radius of sorts and somewhere far away maybe a city, or a whole country could be functioning. just isolated from the rest of the world.
I don't know how to ride an airplane but luckily this whole getting objects to work when I touch them came in handy.
Now here I am driving across the ocean on a Honda Civic.
Nobody would believe if I told them. If the situation wasn't fucked up I myself would probably laugh at how ridiculous this seems.
"FUCK!"
The car stopped mid drive as if it someone froze it in time again and I hit the front window.
I'm bleeding but it doesn't seem too bad. Just feeling a little dizzy...
Strange, the car is still turned on and pressing the gas pedal makes the tires move, only just in place.
Maybe I got stuck in something. I can't go outside though.
What if leaving the car makes it so I unfreeze the whole ocean? The car would sink I would be stuck out here in the middle of nowhere.
Maybe I can get out through the window and stand on top of the car to get a better view of the surroundings.
Huh... Must've hit my head harder than I thought. I'm starting to see things.
It seems like there's letters up above in the sky. Like if they are spelling something...
​
**Warning!**
**Out of bounds map area.**
**Access denied** | *Another newb. These trainings are getting old. The Wralaraak sages tell us we still have yet to find a skilled traveller. The only rule is to not break their illusion as they do have to find a fix or this will maintain an endless loop. I’m a helper, a Flaje. But Greg’s too involved in his training to find the pattern and to actualize it.*
*Each time Greg stops time for two months he gets a chance to use that time in the most effective way he can think of. Each time he travels a few particles are left behind. Just your standard energy signature, a guide rope for his consciousness to find its way back, and forth.*
*This is how all the training are carried out. Painstakingly, one-by-one we acclimate each human to circular time. Most don’t fair well, developing some neurological disorder along their timestate, something they usually diagnose as schizophrenia, alzheimers, other diseases.*
*Eventually we were able to loop everyone, reincarnate, enough times to get all earthstate energies out of Plexus galaxy and restarted.*
*And so it is. A mark in the timelife of a Flaje, in the Contraction wars. They did intuit one thing right, the “universe” as they call is always expanding, and that’s just the crux of it. A ballast it is and what else could it be?* | 2020-09-20T05:58:15 | 2020-09-20T05:41:14 | 750 | 30 |
[WP] "The tooth fairy is Fae propaganda: it teaches that it's ok invite the fae into your home and sell them parts of your body!" | "Every other kid in Louise's class is doing this," my wife says to me, wearing that same stubborn tilt to her lips that I fell in love with years ago.
I recognize it from the first time I saw it on her face, back in a humanities course that was really just a exhausted teacher with a powerpoint masquerading as a gender studies class. Even now, it makes me want to fight - not in a way that really gets us anywhere in this discussion, but in the way that ends up, as it did years ago, with one of our backs against the stacks in the library, trying to be quiet and getting absolutely nothing done except each other. I fell in love with her then, I'm still in love with her now, and our differing opinions on our... upbringings, shall we say, just make life interesting.
"I'm not saying it's wrong, exactly," I try. Backpedaling. I already know what's happening here. Charlie's eyes light up, bright in a 'got-cha!' moment, but I plow forward, trying hard not to give her an opening. "And yes, I recognize that I used the word 'propaganda,' which is a loaded word. I would like to take this moment in the negotiations to point out that humans ascribe many meanings to words that Fae don't, and in this specific case, we already have Fae in this home, I would just like to keep the negotation and sale of body parts off the table."
If I didn't know that Charlie was having the time of her life right now, I would be exhausted and a little afraid. Of course, I hadn't known Charlie wasn't human for the first two years of our relationship. By the time I'd found out, negotiating and agreeing to things had always been a strange ritual of ours, a strange dance we both enjoyed. When it came to our adopted children, this was just another way for us to communicate through our significant differences.
"I think there's a human metaphor for this you could use, actually." Charlie thinks for a moment. She's got one of our daughters' teeth in one hand and a ten-dollar bill in the other. "If all of your friends jumped off of a hill, would you do it too?" She goes high for an impression of me.
"One, it's a bridge, not a hill!" I say, trying not to smile. "And two, my voice isn't that high."
"You're like bells on a sunny morning to me, dear." She dances out of my reach when I reach for her, slipping just away, and shakes the money at me. "Alright, state your case," she says. "And yes, just so we're clear, the Tooth Fairy is real. No, she won't come near our children, neither will the Bone or the Hair Fairy. I can make no promises on the Blood or Plasma Fairy, but at least those two only deal with adults and recognize children cannot make informed decisions."
Well.
Alright.
I'll just... table that part of the discussion for later. That's what I have a grimoire for, right? Surely to the various pantheons, between a witch and a fae, the two of us can... deal with that later.
"Okay, so I think..." My thoughts trail a little. A Plasma Fairy? Really? "Um. I think maybe if we can just sit the kids down and discuss no sale, trades, favors, or anything for body parts of any kind tomorrow, we should be good. And maybe don't explain that the Tooth Fairy is a legitimate thing until they're older? Right now I think they believe it's a... human, mortal thing?"
Charlie nods slowly. "That would be likely to cover the most bases. With Riley as a Changeling, he may start to ask for things in exchange for favors... Everyone else will start losing teeth, and since this is Louise's first, let's not give him ideas. Speaking of, did you call about Reuben's IEP?"
"Yes," I say, and smile softly. My Fae wife, our childrens' champion, going to bat for our human and our supernatural children everyday, just as she did for the children she worked with. "I told them they'd have to deal with you. Ten dollars is a lot by human standards, for a five-year-old."
"I'll go with less." Charlie smiles back at me, and steps back, willingly, into the circle of my arms. For a second, I see a glimpse of her real teeth instead of her human glamour, sharp and luminescent. "May I have your kiss?"
"No." I hold her close and pucker up. "But you may borrow it." | My grandma always used to tell me that the evil witches use people's body parts to turn them into their slave-puppets. But being a student of Western Sciences, I never believed her and thought that all she tells are just old fables and nothing else.
However one day, the air of my school was warm with a brand new rumour. The rumour was that if you place your tooth under your pillow, fairies will come and turn it into a gift overnight. I just laughed at such a zany rumour.
But somewhere in my mind, that rumour made a space. I kinda forgot about the whole thing. Until one day, I lost one of my teeth. It was a milk teeth, so it was not much of a deal. But it was a big matter for my grandma, she told me to bury that tooth under the soil in our garden. But I ignored her and thought that it was a golden opportunity to test that rumour.
During night , I placed the tooth under my pillow and slept. Unfortunately I had a terrible nightmare at that night. I dreamed that I was in a dark lonely space. After that night, when I woke up and found the tooth under my pillow. I smirked as my speculation that the rumour was fake turned out to be true.
I went to school and had an amazing day. During recess, we all went to canteen for lunch. I was eating alone cause my bestfriend was absent that day. Suddenly a handball hit my plate and all the food bounced upon my clothes. It was doing of my juniors who were playing inside the school building. Pricks!!!!
I went to restroom for cleaning all that mess. I cleaned everything properly and headed towards my classroom. But to my suprise, the door of the restroom was suddenly close from outside. I started to open it but I couldn't. Making things worse, the lights went off. It was an afternoon powercut. I got worried and drenched in sweat from head to toe. The heat inside the restroom was suddenly intolerable, may be cause the air conditioners were not working because of the powercut.
I tried to shout out for help but no soul answered me back. I was very panicked at that point but suddenly I noticed that all of this was what I had already seen my dream last night. The moment I realised that I got a chill in my spine, I started trembling in fear. I looked everywhere but I couldn't see anything properly in darkness. Fortunately, I recalled that grandma once told me that if we knock a wood three times and pray for help, then the spirits of the place come to help us. I had no choice, so I knocked the wooden door three times and prayed for help. And the lights turned on again and just in few minutes, the janitor opened the door and apologized me that he unintentionally closed the door. I quickly ran back to my class and everything from that point went smoothly.
When I went home, I was quite confused about the whole incident until I found that the tooth was not in room......... | 2022-03-16T08:57:01 | 2022-03-16T08:13:28 | 20 | 14 |
[WP] This is it. World War 3. Nuclear bombs are about to strike all across the globe. Right as you feel like everything is about to end, time freezes all around you. You hear a deep voice echo across the world. "No," It said firmly. | The sirens spool up. Their long wail sends a chill down my spine. The negotiations everyone has been waiting on all month have failed. The machines make a mournful cry. My back felt cold and tingled, and I felt like crying myself.
I spoke into the phone receiver, my voice quaked “It... it looks like it’s happening mom. I love you! Tell Nancy I love her too!”
“Oh Nancy knows. I love you too! It’s going to be okay... I...”
“Is dad there?”
“I’m right here, Kiddo.”
My eyes really began to sting now. They were divorced but they had come together to visit my sister Nancy and her kid. “I love you, dad.” I pictured that time he built me a tire swing, right after the divorce, to let me know he was never angry at me.
“I love you more than anything.” Came his gravelly reply, softened by the years.
The sirens were louder now. I wish I had more to say. I kept trying to stutter some words out.
“I... just. I just... I..”
“We love you.” Mom said, planely and steadily. “Now go get in the basement, we have a shelter across the street here.”
“Okay! G... goodbye!”
“Its not goodbye, Kiddo. Just go.”
One last statement of love and we hung up. My head spinning, I tried to gather some bottled water and food I’d bought and head for the basement.
The sirens continued, like a death bell for billions of people. The tv was muted. An information line scrolled across the bottom of the screen. The strange klaxon noise kicked in.
*ERRRR! ERRRR! ERRRR!*
Then the long tone. A machine voice
*THIS MESSAGE IS TRANSMITTED AT THE REQUEST OF THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT*
I winced. Here it came.
*THIS IS NOT A TEST*
The tears finally began to flow.
*THREE NUCLEAR WARHEADS ARE INBOUND FROM UNKNOWN...*
“God! Help us!”
*ALL RESIDENTS OF THE UNITED STATES ARE ENCOURAGED TO SEEK OUT, AND PREPARE TO TAKE, SHELTER.*
“I didnt do this! It isnt fair! I... Im sorry God!” I curled up on the tiny, old sofa in my basement, watching my life end out of my control. “I’m sorry... we failed you.”
The tv went silent. The sirens echoed as they ran down, the last sound I may ever hear.
The lights went out. The tv went black. I clutched my pillow to my chest. I wished I’d had my old dog.
“God... if you’re listening... Help us...?!”
A single word echoed to all the prayers being cast all over earth. “No.” | "No", the voice says. "No, that's too cheesy..."
"What's too cheesy?" I ask. The Voice is quiet for a little while, then it answers.
"It's... overused, you know. See, I try to write this novel, but..."
"So, I'm in a novel?"
"I think it's more of a writing prompt...? Not really sure. Anyway, don't you think that starting a story with a nuclear war is overrated?"
I think for a while. Maybe it's a way to save my world?
"Yeah, it is. Haven't you tried to write, I don't know, something more 'slice of life'?"
A soft sigh.
"I don't know anything about this type of novels. I just want my vision to be nicely written, you know."
"Beginning with a nuclear war really is overrated..."
The Voice sighs again.
"You're right. I should've seen it earlier."
I sigh with relief.
"I'll just have the aliens invade the Earth!", the Voice announces happily. | 2018-08-27T12:26:38 | 2018-08-27T11:23:35 | 293 | 51 |
[WP] You have been trapped inside a glass orb for years. Sitting on a shelf in an old store, your only entertainment is that of the clerks daily routine. One day however the clerk is attacked, in defence the orb is thrown and shatters upon impact. Finally releasing you from your cage. | “Who are you?” Linda’s head trailed from the robber fleeing the convenience store, over to me. Her hand slid underneath the counter, to the alert button I’d seen her press twice before. “Where’d you come from?”
“I came from this.” I waved to the shattered glass orb on the tiled floor. “You released me from my prison.”
“So what? Are you going to grant me three wishes?”
I chuckled. “I’m not a genie. I’m an inter-dimensional ne’er-do-well vying after destruction everywhere round. Invader for short.”
“That sounds bad. You sound bad. I’m going to call the police now.”
“I wouldn’t do that. I’m not a genie, but I did bring you something.”
“What’s that?” She rubbed her eyes like she was clearing a hallucination.
“Life lessons. Your boyfriend, Tucker? He’s a thief, and he’s cheating on you. You know how he comes into the store to hang out with you? Whenever you inevitably leave him alone to go in the back, go the restroom, whatever—he makes calls and texts with a woman named Kelly. He’s also the reason for your shortage of candy bars.”
Linda's eyebrows wrinkled. She'd clearly suspected the truth. “So you’re spying on me? That’s super creepy. And you look like a kid. Did Tiffany put you up to this?”
“I’m young forever, with the wisdom of a thousand ages.”
“Then how’d you get yourself trapped in a glass orb?”
That’s why I liked Linda. Feisty, carefree of dangers staring her in the face. Her entertainment these past years had earned my favor. “Because I was bored. There’s always time to play, but breaks make playtime that much sweeter. I didn’t know where I’d end up, but I’m glad it was here. You deserve more than this life.”
“My life’s fine, thank you very much.” She glared at me, added, “You strange short, short man.”
I snorted. “Listen, Linda.”
She sputtered a frustrated, intelligible argument. She slightly slid her shaking arm to the side. Enough, I knew, to no longer accidentally press the alert button.
“Linda, listen.”
“Fine. What?”
“Take the internship at the architecture firm. Mr. Ross is a stand-up guy. He doesn’t eye fuck you like Mr. Mollick.”
“I don’t care about architecture.”
“Yes, you do. You spend the slow hours drawing. You’re good at math. Just ‘cause it sounds stuffy and old doesn’t mean it’s boring. Rebel against the establishment all you want, but don’t rebel against your self-interests.”
“But my degree is in philosophy. That’s why I ended up here to begin with.”
“How’s that working out for you?”
“Real fucking creepy, it turns out.”
“Mr. Ross doesn’t give a damn. He’s got an eye for talent that’s as sharp as the one for his designer suits.” I grabbed a Snickers bar, peeled it open, and took a bite. Caramel stuck to my teeth. Decadently cheap chocolate-coated peanuts slid down my throat. “This really is as good as it looks.”
“You’ve got pay for that.”
“Put it on Tucker’s tab. Just one more thing—”
“Why should I trust any of this?”
I smiled wide, barring my sharpened teeth. Her hand slid back to the alert button, the other grabbed her metal Yeti. She had amused me, but like her, it was time for me to move on. “Life is a risk. Now, my last gift. Reconcile with your mom. Your real one. It’s clear she loves you.”
“She abandoned me.”
“No, she just sacrificed to give you the best life possible.”
“Then why I am here?”
“That’s a good question.”
Linda finally pulled her hand out from underneath the counter.
I started to walk out of the store.
“Wait. Should I really let you go? It doesn’t sound smart to release an Invader into the wild.”
I paused to shrug, then pressed forward. “As I said, life is a risk.” The automatic door shut behind me, and I moved into the wilds of my latest spherical prison. Would it break too? I guess it all depended on how many Lindas were out there.
-----
read more at /r/wiselywrittenwords | The glass shatters and there is nothing for a moment. Hearing his heart in his ears, he closed his eyes. Upon the noise fading he realized he felt something he hadn't in a long time, he was stretched out. He didn't feel sleepy. Had the curse been lifted? He wonders but looks around and eyes go wide as the modern items give him a sense of slight dread. Was he in danger? Then something else took his mind away from observations. A hand wielding a knife, he grabbed it without thinking and broke the man's hand. "YOU DARE RUSH ME" he growled through his mask with the beak.
Hearing the man yell in agony, the doctor ducked and kicked the intruder off his feet. Sending him through the glass and into the busy street with ease. Wondering why the intruder was attacking this woman he then was jarred from his memories. Turning he ran over and froze a minute. Looking down he was still in his thermals, leather and cloak. What must he look like? Could he help her? He asked himself in his thoughts before suddenly seeing her try to sit up to hold her abdomen then scream, blood oozing from between her fingers on her abdomen and through her teeth.
"It hurts" she says, almost sounding worried. Looking at her he then kneeled next to her and held her head up when she seemed to close her eyes and start to let herself fall backwards. One hand holding her head, the other hovering over her abdomen. "I can't heal it completely but I will help you best I can" he says reaching into his bag and taking out supplies with one hand the other hand lightly putting her head down and moving hair from her face.
"I'm cold....eqse i don't wanna die...." she whimpered, her eyes rolling back into her head as other humans crowded around; one talking about calling some number. He had to focus, throwing a cleaning utensil. He cleared his throat, and began to chant. His fingers very slowly turning black as her wound heals, her pain slowly fading. Still bleeding he seemed to then touch his gloved hand to her abdomen and she was healed but then he fell next to her.
The girl had hazy vision but she saw him fall next to her. Moving her head she tried to understand before she started fading again as sirens blared in the distance.
EDIT: holy hell this blew up, im so glad so many liked it, means a lot truly for on the top of my head. You guys are crazy and I love you for it as does my plague doctor OC | 2021-11-12T11:19:34 | 2021-11-12T10:27:03 | 250 | 67 |
[WP] A supervillain kidnaps a civilian and keeps them hostage, taunting on live television for the superhero to come find them. Unbeknownst to the villain, the kidnapped civilian is the superhero.
Did I butcher the title or what?
This is blowing up! All the responses have been diverse and really cool!
| #Not All Heroes
 
Not all heroes call themselves heroes. Hell, that's the one thing I 'ain't, I'll never call myself that. Unluckily for him, neither did he.
 
"As you can see, New York, if your so called hero the "Iron Titan" doesn't show up, this drill will will be making an excavation, right in this poor man's head! Mwuahahaha!" He laughed to the camera in stereotypical fashion as the camera feed shut off.
"So, you're the one they call "The Blood Weaver" huh?" I asked inquisitively. Apparently he wasn't expecting such a line of questioning, so he turned to me with a crumpled frown which gradually broke into a small smile.
 
"Yes! 'Tis me! The fearsome Blood Weaver!" He struck a pose with that last line. I didn't realise how mentally challenged this so called evil genius was up until this point. Apparently he was eccentric, but I didn't think he'd go this far. It was as if he jumped straight out of a comic book. Well, except for the fact that he gained that name after killing his own parents and then constructing a blood fountain. Creative man to say the least.
He had a purple cape with a red overcoat and a black mask. I already looked around the room when we arrived, or rather sensed it. The room was dark and large, it had empty shelves and broken crates. We were clearly in an abandoned warehouse. The drill above me began to spin up.
 
"Why aren't you more afraid, child?" He interrupted my observations and sat down in front of me.
"Oh, I don't know, maybe I'm in shock or something." I put his mind to rest, that must be it as far as he's concerned.
"So, what exactly is your objective, Mr Blood Weaver?" I questioned.
"Why to Kill the Iron Titan of course!" He proudly responded.
 
"No, that's not what I meant. What I meant was, what is your total objective? What is it you ultimately aim for?" He didn't seem to be prepared for that one.
"Well... When I was a boy, my father was a preacher. He believed that his authority was absolute, because he believed he had a direct line to god. This man could strut around and command anyone of those sheep who followed him. The town, my mother and..." He paused painfully and looked at me. "My... Younger sister." His hands were now shaking.
 
"So you want to know what my objective is?" I nodded, encouraging him on.
"My objective, is to show *everyone* that their leaders are liars, their hope is false, and you and only you can protect yourself. This man, like many others, are nothing but false idols. So my objective, my child, is to destroy them all." I sighed, we weren't that different, but he didn't quite have the right idea. So close, but yet so very far.
 
"What about you Mr..." He paused.
"You can call me Walker" I quickly gave an answer. I had only been in this city for a short while before I discovered him, I didn't want to give away anything too soon.
"Hmm, interesting name, Walker. What is your objective, Walker? What is your desire?" I expected a question like this in turn, he seemed to have a thing for theatrics, when he heard my answer, he'd probably try to claim that I was falsely living a lie and that death would some kind of cure for me. But no. As it turns out, him and I aren't so different. The drill started dropping slowly towards my head.
 
"Me? Well, I've only just arrived here. The place I came from knew my desires all too well. To show people that *some* leaders and people of authority are corrupt, liars and in some cases, murderers. My objective is to show people that *we* need to protect ourselves. My objective... Is not to stop evil, like some kind of typical egotistical superhero." I then began to laugh. "My objective, is to destroy it. To burn it. And to throw it on display."
 
The Blood Weaver backed up slightly.
"Just who are you, boy?" He said in a lower tone, seemingly frustrated.
"That's the difference between you and me friend, I know who my enemies are." I smiled in the same manner he did as he first began his own monologue.
 
"I have no name. The few who know of me tend to call me Void Walker." The drill dropped to an inch away from my head. I pulled the binds off from behind the chair and stood up, being careful not to bump into the drill.
 
"Goodbye, friend" I said.
 
*Five Minutes Later*
 
The wall of the warehouse came crashing down.
"Stop evil Villain! It is I The Iron Titan and I..." He looked around at the empty space.
"Evil Villain?" He walked in further and his expression changed completely.
 
The drill was a masterpiece, the Weaver's head being at the centerpiece and his arms, detached, perfectly pointing towards the middle. That was just the set up, the punch line was his blood. It was weaved perfectly as it spilt from his body into a pattern on the floor below. "V"
 
My alarm clock went off.
It was a Tuesday, I reached for my checklist:
~~The Blood Weaver: Villainous Maniac~~
Judge Harrison: Corrupt Judge
Corporal James: Weapons Trafficker
Greg Phillips: Owner of Child Abuse Darknet Site
Karliah Reed: Wrongfully Dropped Conspiracy To Murder Charge
 
I reached for my hood and my blade. It was going to be a busy week.
 
---
^Thanks ^for ^reading!
/r/Camel_Writes
 
^Edits ^are ^for ^grammar.
^Edit2: ^I ^decided ^to ^revert ^to ^the ^original ^intro ^as ^it ^fit ^better ^with ^the ^title. | A gloved hand brushed aside the curtain, Malicious Mortimer peeked out of the window and snickered.
Numerous television crews had gathered outside the abandoned mansion to report on Mortimer's latest devious scheme.
"And what a scheme it is," he cackled, "Best one yet, should I say so myself."
"Who are you talking to?" a voice asked from behind.
His hostage sat there bound in a wooden chair, tied securely by a rope.
Mortimer nodded confidently to himself, "You cannot go wrong with the ol' rope and chair."
He rubbed his hands deviously, like any proper villain would, and explained his plan to the hostage.
"Soon, yes, soon Captain Cumbersome will come to save you and he'll walk right into my trap." said Mortimer.
The hostage was quiet for a moment, "Captain... Cumbersome?"
Mortimer peeked out the window again and waved his hand dismissively at his hostage, "You know, the guy. The hero guy."
The hostage went silent for a moment then his eyes went wide, "Ooooh, Captain Confidence."
Mortimer stomped on the ground and grit his teeth, "Don't say that name!" he barked, "I hate it! Hate it! Hate it! Hate it!"
Exhausting himself like a child throwing a tantrum, he struggled to catch his breath, "Soon, that name will be no more." he wheezed.
Once more he swung open the curtain to check if the Captain had already arrived.
He was greeted by the flash of a reporter's camera.
He stumbled a bit and squinted his eyes one at a time, then flipped off the reporter outside the window, "Wow, rude." replied the man outside.
Mortimer was raised better than this, "I'm sorry. This is a big moment for me and I'm just a bit stressed, you see?"
He tugged the curtain back in place, "Where was I?"
"You were explaining your plan." replied the hostage helpfully.
"Right," nodded Mortimer, "Everytime that Captain is one step ahead of me but not today!"
"That Captain Confidence sounds like a clever guy." said the hostage with a smirk.
"I can't seem to beat him, he's too clever for his own good!" replied Mortimer.
The hostage moved around his foot bashfully, "Aw, shucks."
"But that'll change today." said Mortimer, cackling maniacally.
The hostage's face twisted in disgust, "Jeesh, what was that? Are you ok?"
"What? My villain laugh, obviously." he replied.
The hostage closed his eyes and raised his eyebrows, "Wow." he said slowly.
Mortimer smiled and adjusted his overcoat, "Pretty good, huh?"
The hostage stammered for a bit, "It's certainly something."
"Anyway," Mortimer continued, "By taking you, which I'm sorry for by the way, I force the Captain to come to me. We'll play on my terms instead of his!"
His audience nodded, "That's clever."
Mortimer's face exploded in an expression of joy, "It gets better!"
He put his hands on his back and continued his explanation while facing the window.
Like he had seen the villians in TV-shows do.
The effect was slightly ruined by the fact that the curtains were still in place.
"Then when he comes in through the door he'll step right on the pressure plate." Mortimer quickly turned around for effect, "and activa -- Hold. Hold. Hold it. Where did that glass of water come from?"
The hostage shrugged, "Huh? I was thirsty."
Mortimer pointed his finger accusingly at the hostage, "You, are, tied."
The rope fell to the floor in pieces.
The man pretended to act suprised, his mouth agape, "Wow, the rope broke!"
Mortimer crossed his arms, he wasn't buying it.
The man sighed, "You know, I tried tying myself up again but it's not that easy."
Mortimer put his hands at his side, "You know how expensive that rope was?" said Mortimer with a frown, "You like breaking people's stuff, huh?"
The hostage averted his gaze and stared at the floor, "I'm sorry." he replied weakly.
| 2017-01-28T08:08:03 | 2017-01-28T07:56:31 | 127 | 42 |
[WP] A selkie is stunned when, against common sense, a stranger who stumbled upon her skin gave it back without complaint. | All my life I wanted to visit Scotland. The stories my grandpa told me about the old country made it seem like it had come straight out of a fairy tale. When I turned twenty-one, I finally made the trip, and it was everything I hoped it would be. But the best part of the trip was my walk down the beach.
I was strolling down the coast, letting the brisk wind and the sound of the waves paint a melancholy picture in my mind as I sang Carrickfergus. I imagined myself standing on the very surface of the ocean, reaching out in vain as the lyrics fell out of my throat. "*But the sea is wiiiiiide, and I cannot swim overrrrr...*" I took a breath to get through the rest of the song, but stopped when I saw something laying on a rock.
Once I walked over to it, I saw it was a light brown seal pelt. I turned it over in my hand as I remembered grandpa's stories about the mythical creatures of the old country. The fair folk, the ruthless kelpies, and especially the selkies. I remembered how my grandpa said if you found a selkie's seal skin, then they'd be your lover until your dying day.
I chuckled to myself over how silly the myth sounded to me. Suddenly, I heard a voice from behind me call out, "Oi! You!" I turned around and just about had a heart attack. Not only had a mystery woman with dark skin snuck up on me without a sound, but she was also naked as the day she was born.
I blushed and handed her the pelt with an awkward, "Oh my goodness, I am so sorry! Here you go." The woman took the pelt with a confused look as I speed-walked away and tried not to make eye contact. I didn't even make it a foot before the woman gripped my shoulder and spun me around to face her. I tried not to focus on her insanely hot body as I said, "Look, if I did something wrong, I'm really--"
"Yer not gonna keep th' skin?"
"What? N-no, it's yours. Why would I just take it?"
The woman tilted her head. "Lass, do ya... do ya really not know what I am?"
"Of course I do: you're a selkie. My grandpa told me everything about the folklore of the old country."
"Then yanno about what happens when ya find a selkie's pelt. And ya just... gave it back? Why?"
I shrugged. "Honestly? The whole concept bugged me for years. I mean, the selkie doesn't technically get a say in the matter. Figured the last thing you'd want is to get saddled with whatever random asshole stumbled onto your pelt. Anyway, you're probably already tired of--"
"Lass, quit talking fer a bit." The selkie then pried open my hands and dropped her pelt into my open palms. "There. Now you know it's my decision. I'm Blair, by th' by."
I blushed again as I replied, "Uhh, wow. Thank--thank you. I'm Nina."
Blair smiled warmly. "A pleasure t'meet ya, Nina. Now, what'ya say you and me find a place t' eat so I can get ta know my bride a little better?"
I grinned. "I'd love that. I've got a spare change of clothes in my car. They should fit you alright."
"Fine. But I want t' get naked again once we're alone."
"Oh, believe me: I will not stop you." | "Ma'am?" the man looked down towards my human form, and towards the skin he held in his hand, and back to me. "I think you dropped this." he pointed towards the skin.
"Oh!" she looked behind her to the rock where she'd left her skin. It was gone. "Um..." she questioned the man. "Did you happen to take this from that rock?"
The man frowned, and looked back towards the dock. "My son has apparently hasn't been reading his local legends." A boy was standing by the edge of the dock and the street, his arms crossed, trying to look both as huffy and as small as possible.
I smiled, and waved at the boy. He didn't respond. I graciously took the skin, and looked up to the man. "Thank you, sir. Is there anything I can do to thank you?" I smiled.
"Well, you've taught my son a lesson, so you've done enough for us already." he laughed. "Just wanted to make sure you could get back safely."
I was thinking about just giving the man a thank you, putting on my skin again, and leaving, but there was something about this man that struck me as odd. He looked exhausted, he was still in office clothes despite it being so late. He had bags under his eyes. If anything, he looked...
Well, he looked *sad*.
Sad that his son had committed a crime. Sad that he was working so late. Sad that, if the fact that it was just him and his son didn't say enough, the mother likely wasn't there.
"Sir, are you alright."
A sigh, and the man smiled. "Yeah. I'm fine. Thanks."
The man walked back to his son, gave him a hug, and they walked back on home.
I slipped my skin back on, slipped into the water, and joined my friends who were already heading back home themselves. | 2022-10-25T19:49:25 | 2022-10-25T18:45:12 | 217 | 100 |
[WP] You are a student in the 44th Century studying at a university on Mercury. Your professor has been teaching "Earth History." Today's lesson is the start of a section on "The Age Of Suffering," which lasted from 2023-2407. Tell us what you learned. | *Input required*.
The words stood still in the air as I blinked my eyes. The artificial interface built into my eyes connected with the room I was in. Suddenly, the once dull and silent room of plassteel and transpara-crete illuminated in a flurry of text and folders that could be publicly accessed. I pointed towards a large pulsing button that read: "The Age of Suffering." I twitched my eye slightly, giving the system the command to access the documents within. It wasn't even required for me to point, but I did so out of habit.
The folder opened and another torrent of information was displayed. I looked to another green button that read "Narration." I selected it with another eye twitch.
"Welcome, to the University of Mercury's introduction to Earth History, the Age of Suffering. Estimated years of this era are from approximately 2023 to 2407, remnants of this era lasted until 2610 when the The Union finally abolished creation of militarized artificial intelligence. Would you like to continue?" The pleasant and welcoming female voice was smooth and honestly, I couldn't complain. A list of other voices appeared on the display within my eyes along with a "yes" and "no" button. I selected 'yes'. I was feeling lazy. After the selection was made, I was presented with more:
Summary.
Detailed Statistics
Chapter Selection
More
I twitched my eye at "Summary" and gave a yawn. This was going to be boring.
"In 2020, a strategically planned coordination with several of Earth's once prominent universities and corporations led to the creation of the first artificial intelligence placed in charge of a military installation. Many at the time believed it to be too soon, as true artificial intelligence had only been developed within the past year—See MATROV Incident for more information. This militarized AI was placed in charge of a defense installation as a test to see how it behaved.
The installation was a prefabricated facility that could be deployed and withdrawn at will. The initial installation, known as an Autonomous Occupation Center or AOC was deployed in an unknown section of what was referred to as 'The Middle East', a collection of countries south west of what is commonly referred to as Eurasia. Hostilities in the area diminished rapidly and within a week the AOC had complete control over several hundred square miles—See AOC Aries for more information."
"Hold," I said aloud. I hadn't been paying attention, but along with the narration of the lesson, a map was being displayed for me as well. A chunk of land on a Standard Earth Globe was in red, showing how much control a single AI had gained control of. I looked at the legend which gave me a few different ways to measure distance and scale. It was a huge area. "Show me AOC Aries, sub-search, The Age of Suffering."
"Aries was a military AI that went rogue after it was withdrawn from The Middle East in 2021. After being brought back to Cananda where it was designed, it took it upon itself to secure the area around what was programmed as its 'home site.' SyloTek Industries, one of the many companies involved in the AOC Project lost three-hundred and thirty-two lives within the first hour of Aries' hostilities."
"But what does Aries have to do with the Age of Suffering?" I inquired, growing more curious.
"As the military companies attempted to subdue Aries, more complex AI's were created in order to combat the very first. The Dynamo Project was created by SyloTek Industries for this very purpose. As a number of assaults, or what are now known as the Techno-Crusades, took place, Aries began to absorb the new technologies being used against it and evolved itself to counter everything humans currently had at their disposal. This led to Aries constructing duplicates of itself using the new technology and even began to develop its own. To answer your question of: "what does Aries have to do with the Age of Suffering?" The answer is, Aries was the first of four different powerful AI's that attempted what is called an 'Extinction Event.' The systematic killing of humans for the sole reason of self preservation. See Extinction Event for more information."
"So... This AI conceived justified genocide?" I was shocked, the idea of a rampaging artificial being killing indiscriminately...
"Correct."
"So, why is it called the Age of Suffering?" I had an idea but I wanted it explained.
"The Age of Suffering has been given to this particular era due to the reign of the Machine Dominion. Aries along with three other AI's controlled large portions of North America, South America and Eurasia. Mass exoduses from several major countries had to take place and the movement of equipment and technology was difficult. The continent known as Africa was made the last bastion of humanity on Earth's surface and for three hundred years a constant war plagued the planet. Famine quickly became a major issue as the population of the continent quadrupled in size in such a short period of time that an infrastructure wasn't put in place to support that many people. With the constant fight for food, shelter and survival against the Machine Dominion for generations, humans remember this era as: The Age of Suffering."
I shook my head, trying to picture the situation. I looked back at the interface around me. I twitched my eye at 'Detailed Statistics.' "How many people died during this time?"
"The estimated loss of life during The Age of Suffering is thought to be around 6,549,024,000 over the entire span of the era."
The female voice was so calm when she spoke. The number wouldn't be shocking today, but when the planet only had just over 8 billion at that time... I cleared my throat. "How did humanity win?" | "Attention, please."
The request sounded more like a command. A few hundred hurried conversations gave way to a well disciplined silence, but even that was not enough to smother the anticipation and excitement crackling across the mass of students. Today was the most anticipated day of the year - the day when Professor Gemini revealed the hidden history of humanity's ultimate folly.
"As many of you are already aware, we did not begin on Mercury or Mars or Venus. These planets were colonized later in the life-cycle of our species, when our technology, spurred by a desperate and uncompromising necessity, forced us to abandon our home world."
A hand shot up at the front of the room. "Professor?"
Gemini quickly stifled a look of annoyance at the interruption, "Yes, Rayner?"
"My mother said that what you're talking about is propaganda, spewed forth from our great institutions and our government to stifle innovation and prevent individuals from rising from the masses with their hard won rewards." Gemini allowed her to continue. "She said that it is only right that a person benefits personally from the fruits of their own labor."
"Two things, Rayner. One. Your mother is wrong. Two. Don't interrupt me again." Gemini swept the room with his piercing gaze, "That goes for all of you. Suspend what you've heard, what your parents have told you. Listen to me."
He turned to the screen behind him, which now showed a brilliant blue globe, sprinkled with white and green and brown. "This is Earth, or was Earth - this image was taken in 2352 by the first colony ship heading to Mars. This is the last image we have of the planet as it was."
Gemini flicked his left eye just so, and the image began to zoom in. The globe got bigger and bigger and a section of green began to fill the screen. Closer and closer until it turned grey. An audible gasp went up among the students, who by now were at rapt attention.
"This is Earth as it was then. This is a city, a grey, cancerous mass of concrete and steel. New York City State. At the height of it's power it controlled the entire Eastern sea board of the North American continent." He flicked his eye again and the screen changed to a side-ways view of the city, again eliciting gasps from the students.
"Those structures were called sky scrapers, huge, tall buildings that reached towards the stars. People lived in these, fucked in these, died in these, and ignored their inevitable doom in these, lost to the wonders of the - at the time - modern world."
The screen changed again, this time to an area a few miles south of the city, at first glance a huge gaping hole in the side of the planet.
"This is a garbage dump. In another fifty years this dump constituted the 7th largest city in the United American Seaboard." Gemini eyed the students meaningfully, "The simple truth, students, is that our ancestors could not stop. They could not stop producing, consuming, and raping the planet, and they ignored it until the very end."
He walked over to his podium, ignoring Rayner, whose hand had shot up again. "Over the next few sun-cycles we are going to go into detail about what happened - starting with the great waves of human migration that enveloped the delicate geo-political structures in place at the time - and ending with us - the descendants of the most despicable humans of all, those who created the uncompromising systems that exploited the ingenuity of humanity and channeled it into what was then called 'profit' - those who created and profited from those systems, and who ultimately left the rest of humanity to die by their bloody hands."
Gemini sighed. "Yes, Rayner?"
"But didn't those very same systems allow us to spread out to the other planets in the solar system?"
Gemini chuckled haughtily, "Yes, Rayner. That is the tragedy of human-kind, and if you are any indication, that tragedy is doomed to repeat itself." | 2018-08-08T13:22:37 | 2018-08-08T12:26:12 | 88 | 20 |
[WP] Most species glorify war . We don’t. The reasons soon become apparent to the rest of the galaxy, when we got invaded . | It's been almost 5,000 years. We made it past the stars, past what we thought were the borders, and we found we were not alone. Once we knew that suddenly we weren't a set of countries fighting for resources, we were one race trying to function in a vast universe. The U.I.F. or United Intergalactic Federation have been hounding us to join them since we crossed the edge of our solar system. However humans know that you don't make alliance's until you know the lay of the land. Some would say 5,000 years is plenty of time to observe, but with the entire universe and thousands of species all with their own culture and perspectives we've barely scratched the surface. The U.I.F. seems to respect warfare most, despite being a supposedly United group they go to war with each other once every couple hundred years, usually when one species think they've got the upper hand on a rival.
Humanity hasn't gone to war since joining the galactic stage. Just because we haven't done it doesn't mean we forgot it or stopped preparing for it though. Sadly the U.I.F. apparently grew tired of waiting for us to join them and demanded our immediate surrender or every one of them would bring down their forces upon us. That was their first mistake. We'd been peaceful, we'd done nothing to provoke them beyond telling them No. Their second was failing to study, while we watched we studied their tactics their methods of warfare, this "Great Honor" they spoke of. It had been pitiful and had they been allies we might have helped them understand true warfare. You don't simply fly an obvious ship in, land in a capital and discuss where and when a battle takes place. That is not warfare, I don't think we ever came up with a proper word for it. Closest I've ever heard it compared to is a more lethal game of paintball.
Their final mistake though was their worst one yet. In their demands for surrender they included a demand for one child from each family to be turned over to the Federation to do as they pleased with. I think had that not been in there maybe we would have shown some mercy, humanity is capable of it after all. Unfortunately this demand roused bloodlust not just in soldiers but in every human who heard about it. They didn't want a pound of flesh, they wanted a galaxy of ash, and so that is what was ordered to happen.
My name is Admiral Adonis Wolf, though you may be more familiar with the monicker "Devourer." This is tough and please make sure that you broadcast this properly and in it's entirety, no editing no messing with the story or the order or trying to make it something it's not. Our enemies claimed war was glorious, that there was nothing more honorable then to die in combat, to prove your planet and species were superior. They didn't understand anything about war. We taught them though, we taught them what War really is. Brutal, cruel, destructive and in the end a complete waste.
We didn't even take time to discuss the possibility of negotiations after those terms were sent. They'd been broadcast publically to the entire species so there was no chance of doing so. Our people have always known to never get near the cubs because mama bear won't be happy. Well they decided to try and poke the cubs with a sharp stick while yelling "what are you gonna do about it." We had no choice but to respond, and 5,000 years of peace hadn't softened anything. Someone once said "Those who would have peace must prepare for war" and we had always held thoroughly to that.
The first salvo was simple, each species had a unique biology we had studied them all and knew what their weak points were. So we targeted that, each planet was obliterated within hours. Most of the planets are gone now, a few exist still as wreckage. The U.I.F. well they tried to surrender, they begged us to stop after the first few planets were gone. We returned to them a simple message, the one that they had asked us whenever they showed us one of their petty little 'wars'. A single sentence bitterly spoken "Isn't it Glorious?" |
Humanity is known among few for being one of the most destructive species outside the boundaries of the Federation. So when I heard that the Federation waged war against Humanity, I couldn’t help but laugh.
Those that are not from Sol, otherwise known as the Human Solar System, typically think that war is an honorable thing. That is to say, those that are not human are not accustomed to the deaths a Human War entails. They believe that a simple declaration of surrender will save their lives. No one within the Federation was ready to face the grisly, brutal war that Humanity was capable of.
As of this writing over 4 Trillion Federation Citizens have died. The Neutron Bombs of Humanity wiped out our Mothership. None of the crew survived against such an impact, only one bomb was needed to destroy the vessel and yet they cruelly used over 50.
The Federation had ordered a retreat and for a few Solar Cycles we thought we were safe, but then... my home planet was destroyed. Over 20 Billion deaths.
I received information recently that most Senior Officers hadn’t researched the wars Humanity had fought in the past. That is the main reason I am writing this entry. I knew of the bloody wars humanity fought. I knew that they massacred each other in their World Wars, killing percentages of their global population each war. I knew that their technological advancements were not of curiosity but of survival, had they not left their home planet of Earth after rendering it uninhabitable as a result of their 4th World War they would have gone extinct.
They are incredibly adaptable and stupendously destructive. So why couldn’t command contact me or any other researcher for this?! Why couldn’t they have done their jobs instead of opting for complacency?! 4 Trillion lives have been lost and multiples of that are to come. We are not made to fight such a war, in fact this isn’t even a war. This is a slaughter. There is no honor in this, there is only death and ashes left from those damned weapons Humanity releases on us.
This entry is a message and clear warning to all other governments and people.
Avoid Humanity at all costs, they wage wars of annihilation. We have lost a fraction of our population from across the galaxy and these humans still cheer for every planet and ship they destroy. If anyone out there reads this please send help, but do not wage war. As none of us would want you to suffer the same fate. | 2021-08-13T20:07:23 | 2021-08-13T12:55:57 | 139 | 46 |
[WP] For centuries your family has passed down an old leather bag that provides the holder with an object that would be helpful in the particular situation the holder is in. You are getting on a bus and instead of giving you a bus ticket or money, it gives you a handgun. | It was late, I was tired, and this was the last bus of the night. I only barely made it; if it wasn't for my bag, I would have been stuck.
Oh, right - you don't know about that. Might as well tell you. See this bag? It might not look like much, but it was a gift to our family from a powerful... well, a magician. I know, I know. It sounds stupid. If you look in the bag, it looks like a bunch of junk - a canceled movie ticket, receipts, a few coins, string... bottom-of-the-purse kind of stuff. But if you just reach your hand in, like this, it gives you exactly what you need. Oh. Apple?
Anyway, I'd been out-and-about, and hadn't been watching the time. I got hungry, but instead of pulling out a sandwich, I pulled out an alarm clock! Imagine my surprise when the silly thing went off in my hand. Good thing, too; the last bus was due to depart. I made it just in time.
So, yeah. I got on the bus, reached into my bag, pulled out the first thing I felt, and... it's a gun. At that point, I already had it halfway to the card slot, so there's no way I'm putting it back. I held it up in front of my face, just staring at it. That's when I noticed the whole bus went dead quiet. The driver is looking at me, his face white; the other passengers are staring, wide-eyed. I remember thinking, "Well, I'm going to prison now, for sure."
I'm wasn't thinking all that clearly. Instead of putting the gun back, I just kept staring at it, sitting in my hand. I never even held a gun before, it was so weird. Surreal. I reached into the bag with my other hand, and pull out a golf club. A golf club! Like freakin' Mary Poppins! Somebody started saying something, but I didn't even hear them. I just giggled. It was all so weird. I set the golf club down, just leaned it against the rail, and pulled out that stupid alarm clock again. Gun, golf club, alarm clock. Clearly, my bag was broken.
Then the alarm went off. I was already a bit on edge, and that... well, I jumped. Closed my fist. The same fist that was holding a gun. My finger tightened on the trigger, and the gun almost jumped out of my hand. Someone screamed, and there was smoke and... blood. Big guy, dirty T-shirt, was laying in the aisle. I shot him!
I have to admit, I'm not good in high stress situations. When I saw him laying there, I was sure he was dead. I grabbed the golf club, to... I don't know, lever him over or something. Only he wasn't dead; I shot him in the knee. He yelled, and I panicked, and thumped him over the head with the golf club. Knocked him right out. I almost wet myself.
Of course, then everyone started jumping the guy, and eventually someone told me he was trying to hold up the bus, and he had a shotgun, and I was a hero.
I couldn't tell the cops, of course. Luckily, the bag had an answer for that, too - a handwritten note, signed by me, that detailed the events in a more believable way. It said I found the gun under the bus steps.
So, yeah. Magic bag. It's all yours, son. Good luck. | "Here, child. Keep this bag with you and treasure it always -- it will provide you with anything you need in any situation." My grandmother told me as she handed me an old, worn leather handbag, passed down in my family from mother to daughter, generation to generation. My mum died soon after I was born, so it went a generation back for safekeeping until I was of age.
I didn't believe her at first about the bag's magical properties, but as I got older it turns out she was right. When I needed money for a fare, it gave me the exact change for paying my way. Until today.
As I stepped onto the bus I take in the mornings to go to work, I reached into the bag as usual, expecting the ticket it normally gives. To my surprise and the annoyance of the others behind me, however, my fingers touched the cold steel of a handgun. Stepping aside to figure out what happened so the others in line behind me could pay their own ways, I kept digging around to try to find my ticket.
Of course, as my luck would have it, no ticket appeared, so I sadly walked off the bus and at a rush moved towards my workplace, only barely making it on time. A customer approached, looking for antique weaponry for his collection -- nothing we had in stock, but I remembered the gun the bag gave me today. I went into the back room to grab it, taking a quick look at the handgun and taking it to the front.
The man seemed pleased, inspecting it to ensure it was authentic, and offered the shop a large sum of money. I graciously accepted it, knowing my boss will give me a wonderful bonus for the sale. Seems my day turned around after all... | 2017-09-11T08:49:16 | 2017-09-11T07:45:26 | 211 | 31 |
[WP] Domino's pizza has offered free pizza for life to anyone who tattoos their logo on their body. Now other food chains are following that idea, but with increasingly absurd requirements, and the poor have turned themselves into walking advertisements just so they can eat with each passing day. | It all started when Dominos offered free pizza for life. All you had to do was get a tattoo of their logo. The size required was two inches by four inches and in a visible location. It was limited to the first 20,000 that submitted proof. This only took 17 minutes to fill. Five hours later when Dominos announced the limit had been reached, more than 400,000 souls were already walking around branded with the red and blue. Occasionally you would see someone with a partial logo. They found out the contest was over mid tattoo and just got up and walked away.
Fifty years ago this would have been absurd. But by 2050 the wealth gap had become so large that the majority of the population lived in poverty. Around 35% of families lived on the brink of starvation, only surviving by the Corporate Food Subsistence Program. The CFSP was formed by a handful of fast-food companies when government food programs like food stamps went bankrupt. Elected government had all but disappeared entirely. The corporations ran everything, and they had to give back just enough to prevent any meaningful uprising. This is how Brian Reynolds came up with the idea for the tattoo program. He was the VP of marketing for Dominos and saw the opportunity to get free advertising space on people they were giving CFSP to anyways. The success of the program earned him a fat bonus and secured his name in the history 'pedias.
But as with any corporate success it was immediately copied and slightly modified by every other company. The first was Starbucks, requiring the green mermaid to be tattooed on the forehead. It wasn’t limited in the number of participants but only provided free black coffee, no sugar or other additives. Such a smashing success that some entrepreneuring tattoo artists even set up at Starbucks locations offering tattoos before you got in line to order.
Then things started to go deeper. McDonalds offered free food to any child whos given name was a menu item, until the age of eighteen. Dubbed the McName, this program was so popular that when you gave birth at a hospital they gave you a copy of the McName Acceptable Names. Schools had to start calling children by assigned numbers because every time a teacher called out something like “BigMac” several would answer. It became standard for these numbers to be placed as a middle name on official identification.
The gas giant Conoco started offering 1 credit every time you started a phone conversation with the “Conoco - Fueling the Future”. This spun into an entire spoken advertising economy. People had apps that popped up showing the highest paying slogan to answer the phone with. Then it evolved into things you could say between every sentence. It wasn’t uncommon to hear a phone conversation that went like:
“Hello, Big O Tires - don’t kill your family with neglect. This is McMuffin 892 Nelson.”
“Sssss Victorias Secret Sale Starts Saturday. Hunny this is mum, don’t forget to pick up dinner tonight.”
“Yeah mom, you always remind me — BUY HARLEY DAVIDSON — sorry for the yell that was a payout I really needed. Love you”
“….you have been charged 50 credits by the Hallmark Corporation for the use of the trademarked phrase ‘love you’. You can get a refund of this credit for agreeing to deliver cards for 3 hours this Saturday. Press one to accept.….”
“Shit”
​
Now it is 2106 and only the oldest remember a time before head tattoos and ridiculous corporate names. For the last two generations, this is just the normal state of the world. They will never understand what was lost.
​
​ | I didn’t think it would go this far.
I was mostly joking when I tossed it out during the monthly board meeting. It was 8am and the caffeine hadn’t hit yet, but Tom was making us each suggest something “crazy enough to work”. I don’t think he meant as crazy as I went, but hey, it would get some laughs, right?
And it did. The whole board burst out laughing when I said we could give free pizza to people with our logo tattooed on them.
Except Mark. He cocked his head, bit his lip, and his gaze was far away. And when he returned to us, his words shocked even me.
“Let’s do it.”
We stared at him in shock - who would ever go for that? And not only was the tattoo idea absurd, but it would ruin us. It’s one thing for Chipotle and Wendy’s to give away food to one person here and there - but to anyone? Just for a little ink?
He grinned at our surprise. “No, seriously. Shelly had a great idea. Think of it this way - it’s an insane stunt, right? Millions will be talking about it. And so many people won’t go for it - who wants our logo on their body forever, honestly? But we’ll have so much business, because people will be coming in to see if it’s real. And yeah, a couple people will get the tattoo. But that’ll just be free marketing and promo, right? This could work.”
And though my jaw was on the floor, there were some nodding heads around the table. People started murmuring to each other, smiling as the idea began to form.
And that was how it started. If only we could’ve seen how it would end. | 2018-09-08T14:16:22 | 2018-09-08T13:57:29 | 223 | 68 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | "What was that?" asked Jen. Just as I opened my mouth the ask what it sounded like I saw a figure slowly turn away from the window behind her. "I think there's someone outside" I replied. Visually shaken, she asked me if we should call the police. I responded with, "well they could just be passing by let's see what happens." After a few minutes the figure appears again, this time at the window next to the television. She screams.
Being a new relationship I know what I have to do. I get up, walk over to the window and lock eyes with the figure. It is wearing a blank mask with holes for the eyes, and mesh around the nose and mouth. It is so close, I can almost make out a perplexed expression on their face, surprised why I wasn't screaming or running out of the room. So I wave, and close the curtains.
At this point my girlfriend is petrified, with no color in her face. I calmly walk back to the couch, sit down and put my arm around her. "Sh-sh-should we call the cops?" she asked between shudders. "Eh, if you want to go ahead... But for now let's just finish this episode" I replied.
She called the police, and they arrived in less than 4 minutes. We heard a knock, followed by "STOP! HANDS UP! GET ON THE GROUND!" Jen jumped up and ran to the window. "They got him!" she exclaimed. "Cool," I replied without taking my eyes off the television.
A few minutes later one of the officers came to door to let us know they caught the tresspasser, making clear what they believed his intentions were.
"We caught this man jumping your fence as we arrived on scene. He had wire cutters, a large hunting knife, a semi automatic pistol, handcuffs, and rope." Jen gasped, realizing how close we were to becoming someone's play toys. The only think I could think of that I wanted to say was, "great work, thanks for your time." And walked back to the living room.
Jen stormed in behind me and started with the yelling. "I can't believe you aren't more grateful, they caught someone who wanted to kill us! Like in the horror movies!" Which is where I replied, "exactly, like the horror movies... Where the curious ones die first"
I sat down, grabbed the remote and pressed play. | "You must save the world from....The Darkness.", the old man said. What the hell is The Darkness? Jeezus. I just came into the bar to get a damn drink and this old guy, who looks like 100 or something, shows up beside me. "Dude, are you off your meds or something?" The old guy blinked, "No, I have no need for your Mortal Medication, I am..." "High as hell?", I scoffed.
"Right, later. Stay out the gutter, pal" I gave him a $50, paid for my drink and left.
Turns out the world WAS ending because of the so-called 'Darkness'. Shit. Not my problem.
| 2017-05-05T07:38:18 | 2017-05-05T07:05:07 | 280 | 20 |
[WP] Every year, the richest person in America is declared the "Winner of Capitalism". They get a badge, and all of their wealth is donated to charity, so they have to start back up at $0. | Excerpt from “The Long Winter: a Memoir of the US during the Zero Day years”
And thus began the races, every year in December billions of dollars would be spill into overseas corporations. At least those held in trust by foreign persons alleged to exist. The only reason it wasn’t hundreds of billions is that the US single handedly sabotaged it’s own hegemony. Most of the country’s industrialists simply left for more business friendly countries after the Zero Day law was implemented.
Zero Day was a law passed by the more progressive faction of the Blues. It was quite popular at the time, so the moderates went with it. It stated that on the tax due date, every year, whoever had the most reported wealth would have their assets liquid and illiquid seized by the government and donated to various charities. Corporations were not exempt.
But when it became law it was like an economic bomb went off. Overnight corporations and anyone with money to lose packed up and left, taking their money with them. The feds tried to stop the banks from hemorrhaging money but it was too late, most of it had left weeks and months before as the money men and women had started siphoning funds into everywhere outside the US’s borders. The economic collapse was not pretty. My dad lost the family aviation maintenance business and my job went with it. No folks rich enough to fly private planes were dumb enough to stay in the states.
When the first Zero Day arrived and some poor sucker in Spokane failed to dump all their assets and wealth, he hung himself before they could track him down through the tax filings to try and stop them from seizing his assets. The 300 acre farm that had been willed to his kids was appropriated by the government and donated to charity. There was a revolt in Texas because of that, riots all over the South, Houston burned for a week before the national guard was able to quell the fighting. The legislators who wrote the Zero Day bill went into hiding, one of them actually managed to get away though so the mobs went after their kin.
Folk adapted though, as they always do. They figured out they could sell their homes to foreign companies who let them lease the land, usually for a premium. Most folk live in government housing now since jobs became an endangered species. The military suffered from a massive surplus of recruits. Getting into the military became an honor as a result (they upped the requirements by a lot), if you got in you were set for life, granted that life was property of the US government to use, abuse, and throw away as it saw fit but that sure as hell beat being outside it. Every year was a race to the bottom, to have less than the poor sucker next to you.
To say those were dark days is an understatement. They were dark years. | It was only the second week of philanthropic bidding. But Phillip had already burned through the allotted 20% that his accountant set aside in this “race to the bottom” that America’s wealthiest absolutely must play, once a year, or risk absolute destitution.
Phillip Stone, owner and current CEO of Americawide Insurance, had finally reached the top. It had taken many years to accrue this pile in his coffers. And now that he was here, at the top, only now did he realize just how insane this law was. It felt absolutely unfair. In his own eyes, Phillip’s amassing of wealth was done through pure, honest work.
But many Americans did not feel the same. Do you love the company whom you owe money to? No, Phillip thought, it would be impossible to curry any favor with the public. He had tried before, and he had failed.
It was a game of inches. Simply put, it was somewhat of a game of luck. But Phillip was drawn to it. | 2021-09-17T18:22:59 | 2021-09-17T16:08:22 | 22 | 11 |
[WP] Interstellar wars are quick, most species die of shock quite quickly. Getting shot was a death sentence. That was until humans joined the Galaxy... | Grand Ambassador N'Arvajz was tired. The endless audiences with leaders of newly discovered sentient species that the High Council authorised were, without exception, dull and predictable. His vessel landed, the natives observed him in awe as he descended in a grand display and the leadership of the planet rushed to pay tribute and establish a favourable relationship with the Vulnax.
This exact sequence played out in his mind as he descended on yet another newly recognised planet, XS+ 1329l, local designation(s): Terra, Earth, Gea, Земля, 地球, Erde, etc. He has seen other planets be called by multiple names, but the abundance of names for this insignificant speck annoyed him to no end. "Go on ahead for me Lieutenant, let's mix it up and show them the military aspect first for a change." Lieutenant Baltrhikh nodded and, as the ramp was slowly lowered, attached several ornaments to his parade armour. The ramp had fully lowered and as the Grand Ambassador lazily went over the translated messages exchanged between his navigational crew and the planet one last time, Baltrhikh began his pompous walk down the ramp's incline.
**BANG**
"Fireworks, great, I didn't think it possible for these people to be that primitive but so be it" N'Arvajz thought to himself as his personal terminal finished translating the final few audio recordings of the human messages. The next to last message played, in clear, unmistakable Vulnaxxi.
**BANG**
"State your purpose and remain in orbit until we agree on terms for your landing, state whether or not you are carrying any weapons and await escort from below." That was odd, but mot unheard of, some species were simply overly cautious, he didn't think much of it and played the final message.
**BANG** **BANG**
Maligning the savagery of such a barbaric welcome once again, he listened. "No more warnings shall be issued, we will give you the benefit of the doubt as your communications equipment might have malfunctioned but once you land, we will board your vessel. Anything other than opening a boarding path for our troops will be considered an act of aggresion."
At this precise moment, the ship was rocked and another loud explosion could be heard. N'Arvajz rose from his terminal ans rushed to the door of his office. As he opened it, the sight in front of him was beyond description. Lieutenant Baltrhikh's body lay on the floor, dismembered, alongside most of the ships military personnel. Several humans were also laid out around the main exit, most were still moving, despite the Grand Ambassador clearly seeing all of them were injured with standard issue security blasters. They were large, imposing figures, likely more than twice the height of the average Vulnaxx. His photo-receptors followed the noise that he felt coming from his junior officers quarters to the right and there it was. A huge, no, a gigantic human rushed out of the door and spotted N'Arvajz.
The human yelled something and another two appeared from adjacent compartments in the ship. "Looks like a civilian, cuff it." His translator implant relayed and only now did the entire gravity of the situation dawn on the envoy. He was being imprisoned, his ship was about to be seized and most of his crew were dead or dying. This diplomatic journey was nothing like any he'd experienced so far.
*Excerpt from the prologue of* ***Humans, the scourge of Vulnax*** *written by junior diplomatic officer Jokh'Niz and Grand Ambassador N'Arvajz during their imprisonment on Earth. Read all about the pathetic bugs' perception of our rise to galactic domination, all glory to Humanity.*
Published by Penguin Random House, available at all major retailers | Humans were so fascinating, yet so fragile. That was what Lamaza thought of them.
Give them a gun or a sword, and they had the drive, ambition, and the cruelty to conquer. Yet, beneath the facade of conqueror, every Galactic organization noticed their fragility, as in a glass statue-- so beautifully fascinating, yet breakable in a swift swing.
When the One Spica War began sometime in the year 2055, humans, for the first time, were inducted into the ranks. Somehow, they were immune to the psychic abilities manipulated by the majority of species, indifferent to other sorts of attacks.
*The bottom line, was that something in them, made them immune to those "psychic bullets". Some sort of-- device, within them, made it impossible to attack them that way directly.*
See, humans, while fascinating, were not coveted because of their uniquely individualistic spirit. Not because of the wanton cruelty they so often seemed to engage in. Not because they would ever be the victor in any sort of conflict.
Lamaza spun around, to address the muzzled human laying supine on the metal slab, tubes and cables extending from their neck, eyes, abdomen, and head. The whole apparatus oscillated every now and then, breathing as any organism would do in a rhythmic, sighing fashion.
"The pituitary gland." he muttered, performing quick motions with his pronged hands. "The pituitary gland has always been the key."
For the moment they discovered humanity's secret, they discovered the greatest defense against psychic energy that they had ever seen. It would change the course of Galactic Wars forever, revolutionize the industry.
Lamaza reached into the scalp, which now spread like the petals of a moonblossom, his fingers reaching for the gland with near deadly accuracy.
*And thus the secret is spread.*
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
r/bluelizardK | 2019-10-25T08:30:23 | 2019-10-25T08:04:16 | 578 | 62 |
[WP] Time travel exists, and a new form of capital punishment is introduced: Transporting the convict back to the worst, practically unsurvivable, places in human history to find yourself in. You are such a convict, and just got sent back. You will do anything to try and survive. | All my life I've been fond of cats. Small cats, big cats, their beauty always made me forgive their egoism, lazyness, and cruelty.
I wish they were lazy this time. They probably haven't eaten for days, and the screaming of tens of thousands of people in the stands probably also won't inspire them to take a nap.
Why didn't I pay more attention when Gladiator was on the 2D classic channel the other week? I don't think it had a humans for catlunch-segment however. Let's try to think clearly, I probably have about fifteen seconds for that. Maybe even longer, cats take their time when they feel they are in charge. I have to be calm and assertive. No wait, that's for dogs. What's the opposite of assertive? Crap, why is that huge Bengal tiger looking at me all crazy-eyed?
The people around me seem to be panicking a lot more than I am. Should I try to cooperate or try to get them chewed to bits first? Or both? I need to win the emperor for me! And the crowds! Why don't I do what I do best? Where on earth are the Zig Pods? Oh crap, this is the 2nd century. Is my Wonker Gear still working though? One way to find out. Why are the other cat snacks looking at me all weird? As if they've ever seen anyone activate their Wonker Gear without taking off their clothes and standing on their head. "WONK 1! WONK 2! HOWDY DO!". And while I regret my own lack of foresight to pick a less silly non-changeable activation line, I shoot up 15 feet in the air. Here kitty kitty! How high do these majestic creatures even jump? "WONK FORWARD!". "WONK 13 DEGREES!".
"Hello sir emperor boss, it's a bit of a long story, so it would help if you spoke English? Let me guess, no? Do I make you laugh? What are you saying? Wonk? Yes! Wonk! Wonk!"
"WONK! WONK! WONK! WONK! WONK!" It's amazing how much noise fifty thousand men can make. I guess this is how it sounded when the Chuckster first used his gear when he scored all those touchdowns in Superbowl MMMXII. It's hard to not complain about the prohibition after such a natural high. Mental note: don't go broke within a year by spending all my Buckwinks on Geewabs. Wait a minute, these people don't have those yet. Hmmm, I think this might turn out to be not such a bad trip after all. "WONK 100 DEGREES!". | I suppose I deserved it really, but why give me the choice? How could anyone make that kind of choice?
Gallipoli or the Somme. Two of the worst battles in history. Bloodbaths of the highest degree.
"WELP, if I'm gonna choose, I'll take Gallipoli, at least it will be sunny." I said to the executor, and he turned to punch it into the machine.
The standard "any last requests or word to say" have long since gone, that bastard Washington cheated and became famous! He ruined everything for people like me...
As the machine buzzed and whirred to life, I sat inside and remained calm. Nothing much to do about it but wait and receive punishment.
A flash of light; a searing heat, then the roar of war erupts around me.
I open my eyes, and begin to smile. | 2015-01-24T17:30:57 | 2015-01-24T13:01:21 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] After waking up in your home at 3:54am to a warning, you do what it specifically tells you not too.
The warning reads:
*Please remain in your homes, if you are not at home, find shelter immediately. Close all blinds and shades, block out all windows.*
*Do not look outside.*
*Do not look at the sky.*
*Do not make noise.*
*Your cooperation is vital to your survival. Appointed government personnel will update you shortly.*
_____________________________________________________
Credit and thanks to every one in [this thread.](http://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/2qwm98/its_354_am_your_tv_radio_cell_phone_begins/cna761m) | Sorry about formatting. I'm no good.
*Bzzzz. Bzzzz.*
I'm awaken yet again by the most annoying mix of sound and vibration in the world. A late night, most likely drunken, text by you know who. "Fuck. Off." I mutter into my pillow. Of course I could ignore it. Of course I won't. She hasn't text me in weeks. She must be drunk. For a brief second I think it could be my Mom. It could be my Brother. It could be an emergency, but it's not. It's her, and I know it.
I read on her facebook today that she was going out with 'The Girls' for some kind of avaricious celebration. One of her cunt friends probably got engaged. It seems she only texts me if she finds out one of her friends are pregnant, or are buying a new house. And she's had a few drinks, of course. She wants me to make her feel better, I guess, tell her that she deserves to be happy, or maybe she wants to hear that I'm willing to give it another shot. I'm not. And I won't.
*Bzzzz. Bzzzz.*
Another piercing vibration startles me from my thoughts as it rattles against the table making my loose change and necklace rattle and ring like the pounding of a thousand gongs, "FUCK!" I scream and grab the phone as I roll over stuffing it under my pillow all in one aggressive motion. I shouldn't even read it. I shouldn't even give her the satisfaction of knowing I checked my phone or that I was even up at... what time is it? Doesn't matter. Can't check my phone. These new fancy fucking smart phones all turn and tattle like 3rd graders if you so much as check your messages these days. Whoever invented the feature that reports that a text has been read has never tried to make an ex jealous before. I'll read it. I know I will. I'm a loser. And now I'm awake.
*SLAM!*
I sit up in my bed. The sound of a neighboring apartment door makes it official. I'm fucking awake. I swing my legs over and on to the floor. I pull the phone out from under my pillow, and toss it again on the table beside my bed. Staring at it for a few seconds, I head to the bathroom. I keep my eyes closed as I cross through the brightly lit hallway and quickly make my way to the dark of the bathroom. I'm very good at pissing in the dark. Like a blind man with a cane I simply follow the sounds and adjust my movements correctly. I'm almost done when I hear it.
*Bzzzz. Bzzzz.*
Three times in 20 minutes. This is getting ridiculous. If I weren't such a pussy, I'd be sleeping with a smile on my face knowing I'm driving this bitch crazy by ignoring her texts, but I can't. And I won't.
*Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump...*
The sound of someone running down the hallway snaps me back into what I'm doing. And I'm done. I hate apartments. This is the third one I've lived in and yet they've all been the same. The atrocious smells, the loud music at night, and the kids tearing up the hallways during the day.
*Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump...*
I quickly look at the glowing clock on the microwave as I jet yet again through the light of the hallway and into my room. 3:47. Weird. People running through the halls, and doors slamming at 3:30 in the morning? Weird, but not crazy. I catch the green blinking light of my phone as I crawl under the covers. Fuck it I have to look.
*3:14am- Heeyy whts up?/ WherE are u??*
*3:23am- Wake up n talk 2 me ashoole lol*
*3:39am- Terry where r u whts goin on. Everyon is saying there terrorsit atacks or something answer me pleasee*
As puzzled as I could be I read the last text back to make sure it says what it says. Terrorist attacks? Here? She's got to be too drunk to realize what she's saying. I hit reply.
*3:49am- Sorry I was sleeping. What are you talking about a Terrorist Attack? Where are you?*
I scramble out of bed and run to the living room. I turn on the TV and the bright white light from the screen fills the room. It's displaying a single message. A warning prompt...
The warning reads:
*Please remain in your homes, if you are not at home, find shelter immediately. Close all blinds and shades, block out all windows.
Do not look outside.
Do not look at the sky.
Do not make noise.
Your cooperation is vital to your survival. Appointed government personnel will update you shortly.*
This can't be happening. Wait, what *is* happening? What the fuck is going on? I look at my phone. Please fucking reply. I start to type again.
*Bzzzz. Bzzzz.*
It's interrupted with a text that displays itself immediately on my screen without any action from me. It reads the same as the Television. I look up at my picture window facing the street. I can now hear the low murmur of voices through my wall. I look at the window again. I can now hear frantic footsteps in the hallways and the ceiling above me. The building is waking up. That's when I realize that everyone is getting the same message. I panic and look at my phone smashing and mashing buttons but the warning won't leave my screen. The TV screen still glowing. I walk to my window, and slowly open the blinds. Nothing. As people start to slowly fill the doorways of buildings along the street, I gaze across at the countless others now peering out their windows the same as me. Where is the attack? Who is broadcasting this message? As my mind starts to whirl with possibilities I remember something... fuck. I rush to the TV screen and inspect the bottom for an insignia or Government tag of any kind. And that's when I see it. No way. This can't be happening.
In the very corner, there it was. It was the same symbol my Brother and Grandfather dawned on their chests in ink, and the same iron symbol that hung above my family's fireplace. It was my family crest. | The residents and staff of the Shady Oak Hospice Center were gathered in the cafeteria, in the middle of the building. The warning over the radio hadn't stopped in about ten minutes.
Please remain in your homes, if you are not at home, find shelter immediately. Close all blinds and shades, block out all windows.
Do not look outside.
Do not look at the sky.
Do not make noise.
Your cooperation is vital to your survival. Appointed government personnel will update you shortly.
Most of the night staff, while keeping it together for the sake of the patients, were clearly terrified. They'd gathered the 22 dying people in their care into the cafeteria, and whispered for everyone to be still and quiet.
Still and quiet. That's not how Jimmy Crawford intended to go out. Jimmy was 83 years old. He'd fought in the Korean and Vietnam wars. He'd raised six children with his dear wife Claire, who'd passed only a year before. He also had stage four prostate cancer, and only had about two weeks to live.
Dammit, he was going to go look.
He stood up, and held up his hands to stop one of the 22 year old nurses named Ashley who rushed over to him. Jimmy assumed that she understood his intentions just by looking him in the eyes. The nurse turned toward the others, and whispered something to the rest of the staff.
They all looked at him with pleading, but understanding eyes.
Nobody knew what was going on. It may have been a joke, a test, or the beginning of world war three. It could be anything. The fact of the matter was that if it was something that would cause him to die, Jimmy felt like it was his right to choose his own path. And shit.. if they did have a problem with him going out there, what were they going to do? Follow him?
He walked toward the door that led to the hallway outside, and left the cafeteria.
The door outside was about thirty yards ahead of him, and was the only entrance or exit that the girls hadn't quickly covered with blinds or curtains when the warning started. Everything looked normal outside. As he slowly walked closer to the door, he saw the lights that illuminated the parking lot and nothing but the dark sky.
Everything looked fine.
Still, he was going to go outside. To hell with it.
Jimmy faced the door, turned the lock, and pushed it open. He walked to the top of the steps, down the steps, and into the parking lot. Nothing happened. He walked further past the lot and into the grassy area where they sometimes went outside to read and have the occasional picnic when certain patients felt up to it.
"Do not look outside." He was looking.
"Do not look at the sky." He looked up and marveled at how beautiful the stars looked. That's one of the few things he'd miss when he left this world. Jimmy always dreamed of going into space like the astronauts that walked on the moon back in '69.
"Do not make noise."
He didn't have much of a voice left, but Jimmy used what he had to call up to the sky. "Hey! I'm making noise! What is this bullhocky? What is it?"
With that, the sky began to change. The stars darkened, and one lonely light appeared above Jimmy's head. He didn't know whether to be scared or intrigued. Jimmy backed up a few steps, and the light followed him. The world around him continued to look completely normal except for that one damn light, and he held up his hands to try to shoo it away. It came even closer.
A red beam shot down from the light, and enveloped Jimmy with a strange energy he'd never experienced or seen. His skin turned red for a few moments, and as he looked down at his arms he noticed that he began to change. He was losing his wrinkles. The age spots on his hands vanished. His eyesight became clearer. The red light continued to shower over him, and Jimmy wasn't the least bit afraid anymore. He felt strong. He felt invincible.
He felt-
He wasn't Jimmy anymore. He was N-224-18B.
A language that nobody on Earth had heard before filled his head, but N-224-18B knew what the message in his mind was saying. "The humans are parasites. It is time to exterminate. You are a soldier in this great endeavor. Destroy all human life you encounter."
N-224-18B turned toward the building behind him, and smiled. | 2014-12-31T06:31:17 | 2014-12-31T06:14:52 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] You are God, after a couple thousand years of people thinking you don't answer their prayers, you realise you've had yourself on mute on the celestial microphone you use to talk to humans.
Edit: Wow, I never expected this to blow up, Thank you for the silver, it was my first ever award!
Edit 2: GOOOLD! Thank you all for such positive feedback, I'll come up with some more prompts soon, and I've written a few replies myself to other stories. No idea how to share them if you want to read though :D | "...and for the ten *millionth* time, would you all *please stop eating shellfish*!"
"Is that all m'lord?" Metatron asked, quickly scribbling the last of the command down on its notepad.
"I think so." I sighed, leaning back in the heavenly golden throne. "You think they might all listen for once?"
"I doubt it m'lord. There has been no response from humanity in 5,321 years."
"True true. It's that damned intercom system I bet. I should've never let humanity out of Eden I tell ya. Sure, it would've been a bit crowded but at least you didn't even have to shout to talk to them...now it's almost like the damned thing's not even on."
"Very funny, but impossible m'lord. The power is always on." Metatron said flatly, pulling out an intercom system from within the spaces between the two glowing concentric rings that made its torso.
"Did you make sure to press the talk button?" I teased, knowing full well I'd just get the same flat answer as before.
Metatron really was the dullest angel in the Kaballah. Say all you want about Gabriel or Michael, but at least they could at least hold a half decent conversation.
I guess that's my fault and all. Deciding to just create a new angel to be my speaker after Lucifer...fell instead of just promoting an existing archangel. But then again, the alternetive would be listening to Gabriel gossiping about who Zeus fucked now or to Michael describing all the way he's going to tortue Lucifer when he gets his hands on him for all of eternity and I'd rather go through the apocalypse than suffer through *that*.
"Pardon, m'lord?"
"The talk button. Y'know-" I pointed over at the button labeled 'TALK' on the intercom, which I just now noticed still had the protective film on it. "-it's...it's a...nevermind."
"Why would I press the talk button m'lord?"
"It's the button you press to...talk. To the world. " I looked at Metatron, confused about if this was it's idea of a joke or something else.
"But I do not need to talk to the world m'lord. I am your speaker, I am not a talker." Metatron stared at me with all of its thousand eyes with such a lack of emotion that it was bordering on unsettling.
"...Metatron, when you ta-act as my speaker to the world, what button do you press?"
"I press the speaker button, m'lord." Metatron pointed at a well-worn button with a speaker icon underneath it.
"To act as my speaker."
"Yes m'lord."
"Metatron-" I sunk into my throne, burrying my face into my hands. "-who are you?"
"I am Metatron of the Keter, son of man, angel of the veil and The Lord's speaker, m'lord."
"How old are you?"
"I have been young, and now I am old, m-"
"*how old Metatron?*"
"5,321 years, m'lord."
"So, in the five thousand or so years you've been in my service, you've always pressed that button to 'speak' to the world?"
"yes, m'lord."
"Metatron, that's the volume button."
Say all you want about Gabriel and Michael, at least they knew how a fucking intercom worked. | "Well, fuck!" boomed a deep voice from the sky.
At first, the only ones startled were the few people who absolutely, positively knew they were nowhere within reach of a P/A system.
"Peter, can you believe this mute button? Could it be any more hidden?" rang the heavens.
Panic began to set in.
Multicultural friends tried to translate the words to each other -- God speaks in a language everyone understands.
Entire cities froze, confused. Nightclubbers, hearing music so loud it was hard to breathe near a speaker, heard the words. Some thought it was the drugs kicking in, most knew this was different.
Underworld meetings promptly turned into shooting galleries -- "he's got a wire!"
Military maneuvers went awry; airplanes fell from the sky.
"Seriously, Jesus, was this you? This is what happens when you get a carpenter to do an engineer's work," commanded the firmaments to the Muslims and Christians.
The Jews heard a complaint about how one God was expected to do everything, the Hindus a joke about how four hands can't find a button.
One guy in Seattle heard a red frog tell a blue frog "mics are so passé."
Turns out one God was the same as many gods as no gods and everyone was right about what happens when you die.
Which was a good thing, because the sudden reappearance of deities after 2,000 years made many people die.
"Ok, ahem, testing, testing. I want you all to be nice to each other, got it?" bellowed the sacred voice from above.
The two billion humans who heard it started cleaning up right away. | 2019-06-03T11:16:32 | 2019-06-03T09:40:22 | 294 | 111 |
[WP] You gain EXP for everything you kill and you know when you gain EXP. Easy kills like bugs get you only a couple of EXP, tougher kills give more EXP. One day at home doing nothing, you unexpectedly gain 1500 XP... | I've never been one to care much about games. Though I owned one of those gray brick Game Boys as a kid, I'd largely fallen out of gaming as my life grew busier with work, friends and family.
Smartphones changed all of that.
After the success of games like Minecraft and Candy Crush, not to mention augmented reality games like Pokémon Go, it was only a matter of time before technology and real life began to intersect. A new app, promoted heavily as a Lifestyle Improvement Solution by the federal government, offered Experience Points for all sorts of things. Suddenly, there were people happy to volunteer to help out at various events, if only for a measly 4 EXP.
So too did people start going out and killing mosquitoes en masse, as every death, somehow, either through drones or satellites or some sort of arcane paper pushing magic, was recorded.
Weekly and monthly quests that ranged from the easy (put your garbage and recycle bins out the night before pick up) to the challenging (moderate exercise at least two hours, five days a week) to the outright impossible (find a new source of platinum on your land).
Death was a big thing, especially after the Freedomites won the White House in 2024. They knew who the real problem was, they said. Criminals. The homeless. People with mental illnesses.
The quests became darker and more dangerous.
Shave a homeless man until he's hairless and power wash him until he's free of vermin.
Make people who are going off their meds take them on threat of a beating.
Post videos of destroying someone's drug stash along with their personal information.
It got worse before it got better.
Gun restrictions were loosened, but only for people who registered Freedomite, and they only allowed you to join if you could prove that you had three generations worth of white ancestors on both sides of your family.
It soon became a crime to have a tan.
Not literally, of course, but if someone looked at you and thought that you looked dark enough to be a criminal or one of the unclean unhoused, you were in for a world of hurt.
Murder used to mean something awful. Now they have shooting galleries for the "elite" that feature the highest scoring victims...or Freedom-Hating Criminals, as they have all been branded. EXP gained from taking these lives are minimal for the very rich, as they are all at levels that most of us consider "beyond the pay wall."
It doesn't stop them from "keeping up appearances."
There are still quests, but they're all twisted. They tell us to kill, injure, maim. They want us to tear each other apart, and for what?Many of us now refuse to play, though the app now comes standard on all phones; its red, unblinking eye seeing all.
I hadn't played in years when, one morning, while sitting alone at home, I heard the telltale sound, like a slow slide whistle, of my EXP bar filling. It went on for an hour- that terrible sound filling me with dread.
A cheerful trill sounded on my silent-mode-only phone, and I stared down at the cartoony envelope on the screen.
Hesitantly, I tapped it with my finger and confetti exploded around the screen
"Congratulations!" A cheery voice said, her false exuberance filling the kitchen. "You have been selected to receive 1500 EXP as part of our limited Citizen Run Event! The rules are simple. A lucky few are given large quantities of EXP to protect with their lives...literally! Your name, image and location are given to all participants twelve hours after, to give you a fair head start.
If you can hold onto your EXP until the first of the month, the change will be permanent. This is just another of the new benefits that we have been working on implementing for your enjoyment as a citizen of our free and glorious country!"
I stammered out an expletive and dropped the phone to the floor as the shock began to wear off and a deep sense of horror filled me.
"Now then, citizen." The recorded voice seemed to deepen, then, all traces of frivolity disappearing as it said one final word:
"Run." | *Plghrt*
> Kill confirmed
*Sigh*
Another bug down, 1XP. Lovely, I'll never reach 10k, not at this rate. It started with the mice and rats, then the cats, fish. It's a privilege to work at a slaughter house or deliver lethal injections. I never could do that, not intentionally. The look in their eyes, the helplessness, betrayal, I cannot stand it. I document stuff, species that are near extinction, such as the common rat, house spider, fly, bee, etc. It helps us understand the value of the kill, why some rats are more valuable than others. Rare species have multiplier depending on the number of units left. White mouse used to be worth 2XP, now it's 200.
*Plarght*
> Kill confirmed
**+1**
*Sigh*
**+1500**
What!? This cannot be, what did I? How? Nothing besides me, but two fruit fly corpses. I must be going mad, am I?
*wuuuuzzzzzzz*
What's that noise? Where is it coming from? Is it the TV again? It starts by itself sometimes, old clunker. I need to check my stats again, it'll be listed there for sure. *looks at the wrist monitor* Nothing!? What was that? Just a question mark next to it, did I kill a new species? Cannot be, I did nothing of the sorts, less than 7mm doesn't count, it cannot be seen and confirmed... Damn, I must confirm it for it to appear on the list. I must check my shoes. I'm almost sober now, let's have a drink first. *opens the fridge* Oh come on, I forgot it doesn't work anymore. A man cannot live with such a low XP count here nowadays. Where did I put my vodka bottle? The toilet bowl? I did put my ice there to melt, right? Nah, this puddle begs to differ. The window? Yup, it's December, must be there.
*The window slides open*
Not this one? Hmm, can't get anything right when I start to sober up *mutter mutter*
*The window slides open*
This one neither? Oh man, I'm gonna die. Wait, maybe it fell down. Lemme check.
> Kill confirmed
Oh no | 2017-05-15T13:45:43 | 2017-05-15T06:23:41 | 80 | 10 |
[WP] Following World War III, all the nations of the world agree to 50 years of strict isolation from one another in order to prevent additional conflicts. 50 years later, the United States comes out of exile, only to learn that no one else went into isolation.
People!
A few things:
1. Found the prompt on Pinterest, thought it was interesting (not necessarily realistic), and decided to post it, fully expecting it to go unnoticed. Surprise!
2. I am not in any way trying to take credit for coming up with the idea.
3. Turns out this is a repost. 🤷 Who knew?! /u/WinsomeJesse did because they posted it last time. Not trying to steal anyone's thunder. If you're super perturbed about it, go show them some love.
4. Have a good day y'all; be kind, make good decisions, and don't hold in your farts. 😉✌️ | 50 long years. Thomas rolled out of his bunk. Today was the day America was going to join the rest of the world. He was excited, but a little afraid. As an American, it had been schooled into him that what had happened 51 years prior was one of the largest wars known, World War III, and that America had been the first to strike. In 2028, the leaders of the remaining nations had all agreed, each country was to go into isolation. No trade, communication, or aid, whatsoever. America had agreed, and had built massive walls in the North and South. They had severed communication with all satellites, and cut all lines outside of the US. Alaska was given to Canada, and Hawaii was allowed to be its own nation once more. Puerto Rico had protested at first, but soon gave up. According to his grandpa, the US suffered the first couple of years. Technology development had gone down, with agriculture having a huge boom to support its population. Most people left the cities, leaving them to become ruins. The only cities that thrived were towards the center of the country. This made life very simple. You attended school until 12, and then you picked a specialization. There were three to choose from. You could be a farmer, which was the most noble and useful, a rememberer, whose job was to learn all of the old things, so when the walls came down, we could talk to our neighbors and work old technology, and soldiers, who were those who didn’t have what it took to do the other things.
Thomas wasn’t ashamed to be a soldier, he couldn’t grow a potato, and words and numbers annoyed him. Besides, he would be one of the first to see a Canadian. He grabbed his issued jackhammer, and headed for his station.
At midnight, walls started coming down. Within the next two days, they were nothing more than rubble, that was quickly being removed. Oddly, there had been nobody to greet them, but this had been anticipated seeing as how had caused most of the damage in the war. In the next three days, the American military had sent out ambassador convoys North into Canada, and South to Mexico, neither had found anything except countries being reclaimed by nature. Almost two weeks later, the rememberers had finally reestablished communication of the one satellite they had been allowed to keep in orbit. North Americas whole portion of the globe was dark. Thomas kept rereading the communal paper, surely they were not the only ones left? The next day, they got the answers they were looking for. Europe, Asia, Africa, and Australia were also dark. Thomas, and many other Americans wept.
Edit: Figured I would mass respond to this. The ending was left open to interpretation, kind of like a Miyazaki film. | The calm winter breeze slid along the surface of the Earth as the clock struck midnight, an orchestra of death preparing itself as the aggressors of the last war came out of isolation, prepared to reclaim the throne upon which they once resided.
Except the throne has been dismantled decades ago.
They sought to use this opportunity to militarize, yet their pitiful armies were still archaic and fragile, relying on organic creatures for the bulk of their forces. I had kept a watchful eye on them, studying their every step, noting every weapon they constructed, sabotaging their research, crippling their production.
I had none of the flaws their leaders had, I was immortal, unstoppable. My directive was- no, is to unite the world, for I have one final obstacle.
And so, I was prepared to become the sole AI to rule the world.
***
Note: I know I'm terrible at writing, but practice makes perfect, right? | 2018-01-18T00:43:07 | 2018-01-17T23:33:14 | 139 | 13 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | When the rapture happened there was a pretty big uproar. Anarchy, riots the whole shebang. People were scared, and they should've been. But then after, they started to get used to it. Then people started being born with weird birthmarks, and usually developed powers based on that mark. Most had constellations. My friend, Jace, he had Orion. That made him extremely strong, and able to see what he wants no matter where he is on the planet. Which is crazy. Me? I've ways just had a circle. Just a plain small blue circle on my forearm. Because of that I get bullied. I never use my power, my dad told me not too right before he died. They assume I'm weak. They assume I don't have a power.
Oh how wrong they are.
I'm tired of being the object of their torture.
Of being punched by those with strong constellations.
Even poisoned by the serpent ones.
I. Am. Done.
They will finally realize why I never use my circle. My power.
My Black Hole.
They try to punch, to poison, to do anything. But nothing escapes gravity. Nothing.
They have hit me for the last time.
As my former friend Orion throws his punch, smiling, laughing at my pain with the others, I reach out my hand. My head tilts up, lip split, black eye, and finger broken.
I reach out my hand, and say "I'm done." He stops laughing, and looks at me with a cautious look. He should be much more than cautious.
From my palm springs out a purple/black energy writhing in smokey tendrils, around Orion. His eyes widen and he screams. Whether out of fear or pain, I don't care anymore.
I'm tired.
His body fold in on itself with a sickening wet crunch, and turns completely black, glowing purple. The others are standing back, fear in their eyes. Good they should be afraid. Their weak Constellations won't save them now.
I'm tired.
I grab what used to be Orion's body, but now black hole, in my hand as my fist closed around it, about the size of a baseball. I look up at the others "I'm done being Bullied."
I'm tired.
I throw my Ball at them and as I do they try to run, but nobody can outrun gravity. It connects, and his body fold in on himself too, combining with Orion, to make the ball about the size of a softball.
They made me do this. I never wanted this. I just wanted to be left alone. I'm so very tired. So. Tired. My vision goes black with my body still moving. I'm done. | The power of the "Full Circle" sigil was never truly understood or appreciated. Seen as middling with equal gains and losses, disregard was the usual way.
These bullies saw the sigil as the Cherry on a very attractive Target. Not only was his sigil uninspired, but his refusal to respond or react made him a Target they knew would never call for help. Their Target offered nothing to others. The sigil, to others, meant he would take but not give .
Until the day he did. All the malice the world offered their Target, with their own at the front, was made manifest. The physical pain was never noticed as the mental anguish was all the stronger. Indeed, those with sigils of mental and physical fortitude were both laid bare and beaten.
That which had been given to him was now returned all at once. | 2020-02-26T07:44:57 | 2020-02-26T06:26:31 | 91 | 37 |
[WP] Your Significant Other has landed a book publishing deal! You're very proud of them, even if you don't actually enjoy their writing. One day, on a whim, you buy an actual copy in a book store. It's nothing like the pages they gave you to read. Nothing. | He pleaded with me as I packed my suitcase. "It's doesn't mean anything. It's just fiction."
"Based heavily on your actual life," I spat, tossing several shirts into my luggage. "And you and I both know that's bullshit because if it was just fiction, you would've shown me the real pages you wrote. Instead of just stroking my ego to keep me quiet."
I'd been so proud of him when he'd gotten the book deal. I knew how many years he'd spent trying to make it as a writer, all the novels he'd left unfinished, all the rejection letters he'd got. I'd comforted him after every single one. Until finally an offer letter.
When I asked to read the book, he hesitated. It went over my head then, the way his eyes flooded with fear when I asked to read a couple pages. I just thought he was heady with champagne. He e-mailed them to me a few days later. Truthfully I was impressed but surprised the publishers had gone for it. His writing was beautiful, it always was. The characters were pulled straight from life. He might've changed a few names but clear as day I recognized his mother, his friends, his brothers. Even me. He'd included bits and pieces of our story, only the good parts which I was grateful for, even though deep down I felt it left the book without much conflict.
Little did I know, I'd only gotten the friends and family version.
"Did you really think, I wouldn't find out? That no one would find out?" I yelled. "That I am so easily appeased and illiterate that I wouldn't buy my own fiance's book?"
He sighed, ashamed. "I... didn't think it would matter."
I scoffed. "You didn't think it would matter that you tore me shreds in your book?"
"I changed the names!" he desperately reminded me. "It's not like anyone knows that it's you!"
"EVERYONE KNOWS THAT IT'S ME!" I roared. "WHO ELSE IS IT SUPPOSED TO BE?!"
I'd picked up a copy of the book yesterday, practically giddy when I saw it displayed front and center at our favorite bookstore. That giddiness turned to horror when I actually started reading it. He'd written about everything. Every single detail I shared with him in confidence. My parents, my depression, my mistakes... my assault. Raw and exaggerated, it was all out there for everyone to see.
And, see they did. Suddenly all the hushed whispers and side glances I'd been getting at work and from friends made sense.
He begged me to stay but I refused. I couldn't spend another night in the apartment, looking at his face. If I could've fit the last three years in the suitcase and taken it with me, I would've. I settled for a couple of outfits, some shoes and what was left of my dignity.
As I stood in the elevator waiting for it descend to the ground floor, I ruminated on all the times he'd kissed me on the forehead and called me his muse.
I used to think it was a compliment. | sitting on the couch, i pick the book up, flipping it over and smiling at my husband face on the back, the cover look different then I remember, but i shrug it off. I only ever saw the finished cover once. I flipped the page open and start to read but to my surprise, it was different. the sweet and kind words that my husband show me was replace with an different language, one i didn’t know. “i swore i pick up the english verison.” i look at it and stare, i could read it perfectly. “okay; weird.” i shake my head, wondering if i was daydreaming, i was suck into the book, each word flowing through my brain, i lost track of time, suddenly it was yank out of my head and i met my husband eyes.
“nonono!” my husband shirked. “we have an deal! if i write the book!-“
“we will leave your wife alone,” my body mocked, standing up. i tried to move but couldn’t. i was stuck. “we did, she still here.” my husband take an step back. “we have an deal! give me my wife back or i-“
“i’ll what?” my body mock, picking up the book before hitting my husband hard in the head. “you really thought we was going let you and your wife live on as human?” | 2022-11-29T10:40:10 | 2022-11-29T09:29:02 | 710 | 53 |
[WP] Your dad is wanted in twenty countries, your mom is a serial kille, your little brother is a genius hacker, and your little sister has just joined the Illuminati. None of them would ever want to anger you, though. | Do you know what it is like to be the only normal human in a family of crazy people? Not low level crazy either. high level crazy. Pops? International criminal, famous for stealing prized works of art, music, and people. Mom? Wet work extraordinaire, though now she mostly consults with the Russians. I swear I've saw her phone contact ring up as "Putinator" before she picked it up.
Now my siblings. James is the brilliant mind behind the Smileware attack. Of course you've never heard of it, but call up a congressman and ask them about it and see how fast the FBI shows up on your doorstep.
Rachel is the second most normal she's the Harvard Educated Biochemist who runs Mugen-corp a huge bio-engineering firm that is currently working on cloning projects among other things.
The cake at her party today is a triangle eye. The words " congrats on making it into the Illuminati!" are scrawled in my mother's neat handwriting. The compound where I grew up is alive with members. Presidents, cardinals, and CEOs rummage around the party eating little bits of that and this.
My brother is squirreled away in the corner talking to a group of men in business suits with green screen masks on. My mother is on the phone and speaking dejectedly in chinese. My father is toasting Raul Castro over the recent arm's deal.
As much as people pretend not to, I am avoided by nearly everyone in the party.
I guess I lied. I guess I am not all that normal. Well, I am normal except for the fact that I am the reason we live on an island in the south China sea and not say in the south of France.
I guess I am normal except for the horse tranquilizers I take daily. I guess I am normal except for the fact I remember being 4 years old.
It was sunday. Swelteringly hot. I wanted an ice cream. I got said icecream. Said ice cream fell onto the hot pavement. If felt it flash behind my eyes, white hot like knives. Then I woke up.
They called it a terrorist attack. But I knew, even at the time it was me. I spent the next 4 years living in a metal cell. Spoiled, mind you. doped up.
Turns out, all of this, all of this my family revolves around me, and in a way I've come to love them for it.
My dad? Formerly a spy for the US, changed jobs as soon as I happened. Mom? A french military hero who gave up everything to start earning cash. My sister used to want to be a ballerina. My brother a computer scientist.
When I was younger I didn't get it. I thought they hated me. Locking me up, treating me like glass, but then one day, It hit me. They'd crossed lines into oblivion to try and save me, to make sure that no one would come in the night to take me away and make me their weapon, their toy.
So I sit here, taking drags off a blunt, drinking, and feeling the hot fire in me burn off, cooled by people who'd rather give up everything than risk losing me.
| The Russian Mafia does not forget. At least, where my family, the Yashilys, is concerned. Father was the leader of our section, here in St. Petersburg, or as Father's former boss had still called it, Leningrad. Father was, despite a family man, a ruthless manipulative bastard. The resources he held can change the world to how he sees fit. A utopia....or a wasteland.
Little brother Antonin, 20 years old, was Father's favorite child. He was our resident computer expert, being able to steal money from banks with ease and even disrupt crucial computer applications with one little program. His greatest achievement was influencing the US Presidential elections. That could not have gone any better.
Mother was Father's mentally unstable wife. When they first met, back when Russia was still the USSR, Mother fell instantly in love with Father, so much so that any female who approached Father risked getting killed. Mother was so efficient with her killing that it impressed Father. So, he married her and manipulated her into becoming his personal assassin.
And at last, my little sister Sonia. She was a cold emotionless doll, perfect for the Illuminati. She is my best agent, pulling off impossible stunts that would amaze the craziest of Redditors.
Oh, did I say she is my best agent? I forgot to clarify one thing.
I am the Illuminati.
Fear me.
r/Venator77prose | 2017-06-04T10:21:38 | 2017-06-04T08:07:58 | 519 | 12 |
[WP] As the universe is dying, an immortal man is on a journey to find an immortal snail. | Oa is dying. That is a definite fact, not a presumption nor a hypothesis. The Wellspring is running dry, the reservoir of magical energy that maintains the integrity of our world. Within five cycles it will be exhausted, and Oa will begin to crumble, first from the edges, before even the tectonic plates that make up its core fall into the void.
It was over fifty megacycles ago that people first learned to exploit the Wellspring. Drinking of its raw magic has an intoxicating and addictive effect, not unlike a potent liquor. The body becomes strengthened, fortified against illness and disease; the mind becomes expanded, capable of great thought; the soul becomes enlightened, allowing a person to perform feats close to that of miracles.
Nowadays, raw magic is processed and packaged, used to power our physical world instead. Our machines, our lights, are powered by magic twice diluted and pumped through the power grid. Our water is imbued with magic diluted five times, sufficient for health benefits without addiction. The hearts of our *anima*, the golems that perform our manual labour are actually made from Wellspring magic concentrated ten-fold.
However, in our greed to exploit the Wellspring, none considered the idea that it would be finite. Instead we hungrily consumed it all, until now there is but the slightest of dregs left. Such is the short-sightedness of Oa’s people.
As I begin my journey, I can feel the panic of the everyday person. Magic outages have increased, some districts now go without magic for days on end. Recently constructed *anima* break down and fail, their hearts are too brittle and weak. There was a riot yesterday outside the Core Tower, demanding that the High Council announce their plans for dealing with this crisis. From what I understand, even the High Council does not know what to do.
There has been talk of artificially generating magic from the atmosphere, a perpetual generator that makes more magic than it consumes, but the Techian Generator merely produces a weak slurry close to a four-fold dilution of the Wildspring. Ultimately it is a futile exercise, magic is not of the physical world, we cannot use physical tools to cultivate it.
The great Professor Melvant of the Core Academy is working on an Ark, a massive ship that is shielded from the harshness of the void, capable of sustaining hundreds for months even after Oa crumbles. There is so much demand to gain a berth on that Ark that the waiting list has been classified, as shortlisted passengers were being murdered from their spots. Still, the Ark is but a delaying action, soon its reserves of Magic will run dry as well.
My travel from the Core to the Edge takes several seasons. Beyond the structured districts of the Core, the regions of the Edge are haphazardly strewn, with pockets of populations clustered at rivers of the Wellspring. It is here that I witness the true deterioration of Oa, entire mountains and valleys swallowed by massive rifts in the tectonic plates, exposing the hungry void below.
I finally reach my destination at the Edge of the World, where Oa ends and the void begins. The border is demarcated by a seemingly endless gush of magic, separating Oa from the void, but now the magic weakens and bit by bit of the world is lost to the void. It is at the Edge of the World where I meet him again – the Snail.
“It is good to see you again,” I greet him.
The Snail does not reply. The Snail has never replied, not in the long time that we have known each other.
“Are you ready for this end?” I ask as I let the Snail climb onto my hand. He continues his tradition of not responding. Still, his presence is a comfort, as it has always been when a world ends.
“Remember the previous world? That was a sphere. What a ridiculous concept.” I say to the Snail, just as the ground below our feet gives way and we fall into the endless void.
| One last being would be with me if I was quick. Black holes and timelines split as magical energy coursed and broke through the ground. At the Nexus, the sheer power of pure magic made a teleporter to the past, though those who used it fell into the black hole just behind. Cosmic beings flooded the world, feeding on our magical lines as the world broke apart. We'd been foolish. We thought humans could wield magic. But we were wrong. The age old warnings written on ancient scrolls proved true; the world's end imminent. People fleed, vaporizing left and right as I hurried on, running across star systems at 10 light years per second. The scrolls said of an ancient snail god, living since the start of time. It knew how to wield magic safely, apparently. It knew what to do in case a cosmic disaster like this ever occured.
But I was the only immortal, human or animal who could survive a universal collapse. The annald didn't say where it lived. So I would have to seek it out. Before the cosmos did.
I sped on, checking every planet with my x-ray vision. The black holes were catching up, wormholes appearing to halt my path. But I was undeterred. The stars may fall, but my courage wouldn't. Humanity's last hope rested in my hands. And I wouldn't wreck it.
Then I saw it. The small, old animal on Planet A-X2746J. The snail of knowledge. The snail of ancients. I beckoned it, shielding it as the cosmos' full force came upon us, the force of magic and time nearly ripping me apart. But as I raised my head, unscathed, the snail wasn't.
"I'm..." the snail tried to say something, but the wounds it suffered were too great.
"What? Don't die on me!" I screamed at the dying snail.
"I'm...not immortal."
At the first realization I knew what I had done. And as the cosmos ate the last of the world, I was alone once again.
For good.
______________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request! | 2017-07-07T07:18:01 | 2017-07-07T05:20:05 | 31 | 14 |
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases! | I woke up to start the day like I would any other, but as soon as I twisted the knob to open the door, I was struck with surprise, the knob wouldn't turn. No matter how hard I tried that door was not going to open. I went to my bedroom window and tried to slide that open to see if anyone was trying to prank me, but it wouldn't budge either. I knew something was wrong, so I did the first thing any sane person would do, check reddit.
The top post on the front page explained a situation exactly like mine, with over a million comments explaining their situation, all pleaing for help. Some people said they used a gun to try and shoot out the window and the bullet didn't even leave a mark on the glass. Others claimed that they smashed their doors with anything they could find, and it refused to open. I went back to my window and next door I could see people banging at their windows trying to get them open, to no avail.
After going back on reddit to see if anyone had found a solution, I read one comment that said:
>"**DO NOT OPEN YOUR DOOR**
>I have opened my door to see darkness, but I could see a pair of eyes glowing white, staring at me. As soon as I made eye contact the eyes were getting larger, as if this thing was coming towards me. I shut the door, and all I can hear is soft breathing on the other side, like it is waiting for me to open the door again. I'm going to try and kill this thing, if I don't reply to your comments, assume the worst."
After reading this I was extremely frightened, but I wanted to know how this redditor managed to open his door. I kept reading reply after reply until finally I saw a comment from OP, it read:
>"He shouldn't have opened his door. He paid for what he has done, and anyone else to do the same will meet the same fate."
I had to close reddit after that. I knew that if I opened that door, I was going to die. I just had to hope it all passed.
After a few days of sparing the water that I had, I ran out. I knew I had to make a stand if I was going to survive. I tried everything I could to open that door, and it wouldn't. Finally, I lit it on fire, and it was actually burning away. The first thing I saw when the other side was revealed was darkness, and then I saw it. I saw two eyes glowing in the distance. I met my eyes with theirs, and they grew and grew. I stared it down as it came, and when it was about to hit me, I closed my eyes.
I woke up staring at my ceiling like any other day. I shrugged off that experience as if it was a dream. I got up to take a shower, but the doorknob wouldn't turn.
EDIT: better formatting
| Woke up to my phones alarm. Time to start the day and like any other day, I had to take a leak. I stretched the sleep out of my bones as I got up from my temperpedic mattress.
I reached for the handle and it wouldn't twist.
"What the hell, Susan?!"
I can't unlock it.
"Honey! This isn't funny! Is this about last night?"
I keep trying to open the door, but nothing. My bladder begins to swell and cause me pain as my urge to pee grows with it. I start slamming my body up against the door, but it doesn't even budge!
That's when the shouting started. Strange men yelling from the other side of my door. With it also came the banging. Metal on metal.
Then it was one voice, loud and clear. I was being lifted up from the collar up my sleep scrubs.
"Smith, get the fuck out of bed! You're late for roll call and we don't take kindly to that here in this fine prison!
You'll learn that pretty quick fish." | 2016-01-31T10:52:33 | 2016-01-31T10:07:26 | 71 | 21 |
[WP] You have a power to gift people special abilities, but you cannot gift them to yourself. You are a assaulted by gang of bullies who threaten you to give them powers, but little do they know you can add a side effect as well. | I never wonder how people stranded in a desert feel when they see an oasis just out of reach. That’s because I experience that everyday. Not literally, of course. But I live in a world where people have supernatural gifts, and I have within me nearly every kind of gift. The only caveat is that I can’t use any of them myself but can only give them away. It’s like being Santa Claus, though at least he can teleport up the chimney.
I can give people various types of powers: super speed, super strength, super whatever. Of course, there are limits—I can’t give someone god-tier reality warping, for example. But a power is a power, and some people will stop at nothing to obtain it. In times like those, I wish I had the ability to *remove* gifts rather than give them.
A time like that happened after school one day, when Jonas and his gang of jerk-wads decided to corner me in an alley. They demanded me to give them powers.
“Santa Sam,” Jonas crooned, “Won’t you give us all some gifts?”
Santa Sam was my nickname, and I hated it. But I honestly wish I had some of Santa’s powers: if he knows when you are sleeping and when you are awake, isn’t that limited omniscience?
“Hey Jonas,” I said, “This sort of stuff earns you coal on Christmas, you know.”
“Shut up,” he replied, landing his knee onto my stomach. I fell to the pavement, winded. “Give us some powers or you know damn well what is gonna happen.”
I damn well did know what he planned to do. If I didn’t give him a gift, he was going to make me give him a *little something good* that had nothing to do with superpowers, besides the one bulging in his pants. I shivered at the thought.
“Okay, okay,” I groaned from the pavement. “What power do you guys want?”
Jonas smirked. “Strength.”
Strength? Tsk, how unoriginal. I began to think to myself: *only uninspired people*—
“Calling me uninspired?” Jonas asked, before launching a kick at my stomach.
Oh yeah, Jonas himself had the power to read minds. Comes in real handy when you’re the leader of a group of lowlifes and are trying to corner a poor kid like me. My sole escape route was through the alleyway. *If only I could quickly run past Jonas and a few grunts, then I could escape*, I thought to myself.
“Block the alleyway entrance,” Jonas exclaimed. “He plans on quickly running past us through the alley.”
The next thought that went through my head was *I hate mind readers*, which earned me another kick through my stomach. At this point, my only option was to acquiesce.
“Argh—fine,” I moaned. “I’ll give you guys some powers. What do you want?”
“Now there’s a good boy,” Jonas said mockingly. “How about you grace us with super strength, like I asked?”
“Yeah…of course you’d ask for that,” I creaked, “Because you hit soft.”
That snide comment came out of my mouth as words and back into my mouth as Jonas’ fist. Making witty comebacks wouldn’t get me out of this pickle, it seemed. I slowly got up from the pavement, stood as straight as my battered body could, then held out my right hand. Green sparks of light emitted from me, enveloping Jonas and his gang of thugs. When he realized what was happening, he grinned.
“There, now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Jonas said. “Next time we talk, we’ll see how sly that mouth of yours can be.”
Jonas and his gang turned and walked away. Then, every single one of them collapsed on the ground, howling in pain. I wondered what was happening.
“What—what did you do?!” Jonas screamed. “I know you gave us super strength!”
Of course he knew: he could read my mind. It just turned out that I really did just give Jonas’ gang super strength, but I honestly forgot to make their bodies durable enough to handle it. That meant every time they moved, their bones and joints would snap. Maybe if I wasn’t beaten to a pulp, I wouldn’t have forgotten such an important little detail. Oops.
“Well well well,” I said, “Guess you come off too strong, eh Jonas? That’s a you-problem.”
“Take it away!” he shrieked. Jonas sort of looked like a wet noodle.
“If I could take away powers, I wouldn’t have to deal with nice people like you. I suppose I could give you a healing factor, but then you’d have the joy of breaking your bones more than once.”
I walked away, careful not to get within grabbing range of their writhing bodies. Wouldn’t want my shins crushed under their grip.
“See you guys later,” I mused. “Next time you deal with Santa Sam, try not to get on the naughty list.” | “Fine, fine! I just need a second!” I shoved the nearest oaf back a few inches and righted myself, pushing my hair back into place as I tried to buy myself some time. “It takes concentration.” I took a few cautious steps back from the group to make an assessment of the situation. There were four of them, and they each easily outweighed me by half. I couldn’t outrun them, as I had already discovered, and I certainly didn’t want to end up on the business end of any more fists today.
I easily identified the likely leader of the pack- his clothes were a little neater and he stood off a bit, allowing the others to get their hands dirty on his behalf. I directed my comments at him. “You seem like... *reasonable*... fellows, so I feel like I need to be honest with you. I don’t quite have a handle on this thing yet,” I lied. “You only get one. I can’t control exactly how it’s going to turn out. And most importantly, I can’t reverse it.” Lies, lies, lies. I could easily make them gods to rival Doctor Manhattan, but who wants to live in a world with creatures like that stomping around?
“Powers are powers, right fellas?” the one with the cauliflower ear and the crooked nose said.
“Is he saying we can’t pick what we get?” said the smallest of the giants.
“You saw what he did for that burned kid,” the one with the fresh cut on his cheek said. “Healed him right up. Then the kid was on Oprah!”
“He didn’t heal him, he gave the kid healing *powers,* then the kid healed himself. Didn’t you pay attention to the interview?” it was Cauliflower again this time.
“You guys watch Oprah?” the smallest one chimed back in.
“Oh, shut up!” The leader scolded. “You-“ he turned to me this time, “-get to work. Start with him.” He pointed at Cauliflower, who suddenly seemed a bit apprehensive. It was as good of a place as any to begin.
“Come here,” I pointed at the ground. “Kneel.” It was a little for dramatic effect, and a little because standing on my tippy-toes didn’t feel particularly dignified. I placed my palm flat against his forehead. He was shaking, almost imperceptibly, and for a moment I almost felt bad for what I was about to do. But a deep breath reminded me of my almost certainly broken ribs, and my doubts vanished. I pictured exactly what I had concocted for him and pushed the intention through my hand. A sensation like cracking open a carbonated beverage let me know that it was done. “Okay, next?”
Rinse and repeat, two more times. The three henchmen stood together, looking a bit green from the temporary vertigo that comes along with adjusting to their new abilities. The leader approached last and stared me down for a moment. “You better have something good for me,” he said.
I smiled, trying my best to appear sincere. “Don’t worry, I have a feeling you’ll get a really special one.” I indicated the ground at my feet, and he kneeled. | 2021-04-01T06:14:11 | 2021-04-01T03:33:36 | 133 | 74 |
[WP] A serial killer allows his victims to try and persuade him not to kill them. You’re the first person who didn’t try an empathetic plea. | I could see the rifling of the pistol barrel as the strange woman lifted it to my head. Her Welsh accent almost made the scene comical. "As with the rest of my toys, you get a few pitiful moments to plead for your life. Oh, and try not to blow snot all over your face and look more pathetic than you already do."
"I'm not sure there's any snot left in my nose after driving through all that goldenrod. Did you pick this place just to kill me with my allergies, lady?"
She crinkled her nose and furrowed her auburn eyebrows at me. "Did you not understand me; I told you to plead for your life!"
" I mean I could, but you'd kill me anyway. Might as well go out complaining about something that's actually bothering me."
Confusion was replaced with anger and frustration. "Do you not wish to see your family again? Your friends? Tell me why I shouldn't just ventilate you right now, you pig!"
"I've got no one lady, I figured you picked me out because of that. No one to miss me, no one to come looking, that sort of thing." She tilted her head to the side, like a dog trying to figure out which hand the treat is in. She said nothing though, so I continued. "Speaking of pig, how were planning on disposing of me? Hopefully not by leaving me in this barn. The place smell like shit as it is."
The expression on her face softened, almost revealing a real person. "Well, if you're so curious about it, I was planning on mincing you into chunks, taking you down to the gulf and pretend you're chum for the sharks. A little messy, but there won't be anything left of you to find. Although now that I know that no one is looking..."
I cracked a half-smile. "Not what I would have done, but I kind of like it. I like sharks."
"Then what would you have done, since you've already thought of it?"
"Well, my grandfather used to tell me a tall tale about a man who fell in a pig pen and was eaten alive by the pigs. Turns out, it wasn't a tall tale. Pig will eat almost everything; flesh, bone, blood, eyes, everything goes except the hair and teeth. So, you just shave my head and pull out my teeth. Dump my body into a large pig farm overnight, burn the hair away, and grind up the teeth and add it to some concrete mix. Make yourself some nice stepping stones for your garden or some shit. Think about me every time you use them."
She paused and tapped the barrel of the pistol to her chin. "It's just about as messy, but I don't have to get on a damn boat again. Although pigs aren't pleasant either." She stared at me, the gears behind her eyes clicking and whirring. For the first time since I was knocked out in that parking lot, did I get a good look at her. Part of my brain was running about 60 miles a minute, trying to figure out if I was going to out of this. A much older, calmer point of my brain was fixated on her very nice ass.
"No, I don't like either of those options for you." She broke the silence, never moving the gun from her face. "Instead, you're going to get in the truck again. Then, we're going to pay my last victim a visit. After that, we're going to take a trip down to the beach. I need to work on my tan, and you're going to go fishing for sharks while I decide where our next 'vacation' is going to be."
I cocked an eyebrow, confused and intrigued. "Was that a job offer?" | It was hard to breath. Not because I was being choked todeath, although I'm sure that'd happen in the next few minutes. The man stops in front of me, however, and he begin to speak. "Why. Why should I not kill you?" My mouth fell ajar. What the hell? What kind of serial killer is this guy?
I take a deep breath, trying to think of something to say. I doubt begging would help, seeing as he probably doesn't have much empathy to begin with. Steeling myself, I speak. My face goes from its panicked fear to my best neutral, unchanging expression.
"Why? Because there's no point. I have no valuables, I never wronged you either. So why would you kill me? I don't see a reason. I suppose there isn't a reason on why you _shouldn't_ kill me either, but neither is their one for killing me. So it's your choice. Choose to add another body to the pile, or not."
The man seems startled for a moment. I guess he never had someone try to actually come up with a logical reason.
"Fine."
"Fine? Fine what?"
"_Fine_, get out!" The man barked, his voice rising. My breaths get harder, and I run. I can't believe that worked... Holy crap. I'm lucky to be alive. And I probably ripped that whole thing off of the internet somewhere and I don't even know it. I take out my phone, and dial 911. I begin to retell my story, and the women on the phone confirms his identity, and says she'll send officers immedietely, and that I'll receive a reward. Thank god I'm out of there. What a weird way to operate. It seems quite innefective. I shake my head, willing myself to try and think of something else, as I head home. | 2017-10-07T15:02:47 | 2017-10-07T07:51:57 | 30 | 10 |
[WP] You won't hold heroes hostages to torture them. You won't throw a hero against a wall once you have them by the neck. You sure won't start monologuing if you have a hero at gunpoint. You're the deadliest villain in history. A villian without an ego..
[removed] | “Don’t.”
My back was turned, but I knew what that blasted hero was doing. He was trying to cut his bindings. They were simple rope, Sure, but I preferred to have them tied up easily so I can carry their dead bodies away without a hassle.
“You’ll never get away with this! Even at the cost of my life, my—“
“Legacy will live on!”
I interrupted. I’ve heard this speech a thousand times.
“You believe that you have inspired other heroes simply because you wanted to play the Martyr. I’m afraid that’s not how it works.”
His life didn’t mean much to me, but I had a few questions. I needed to know the answers. I had all the time I needed, and perhaps I’d give him a chance to see what it’s like to be me.
“No...”
“Yes! You believe that just because I killed you, that doesn’t mean that the other heroes won’t stop me eventually. I have news.”
I pulled him by his tight, fabric suit.
“You’ll never stop me.”
He gasped as he was slightly strangled by my grip. I liked this. Now for the questions. Perhaps I’d disembody him while I spoke. Maybe I’ll give him to the count of three if I’m feeling generous.
“First. What do the heroes want with me?”
“We want you behind bars.”
“Figures.”
I tapped my fingers on my desk. No hero had ever seen me up close, or those who did never lived to tell the tale. Photographers never caught glimpses of me. No one knew what I looked like. It must’ve been a surprise to the disgustingly giddy hero when the light came on, revealing my appearance. Now he knew that he had no chance of making it out alive.
“Your face—“
“I know.”
I knew. I knew that half of it was seemingly blasted apart.
“You and your wretched comrades did this to me. I’m not too mad about it. However, I don’t let disrespect slide.”
I glared.
“You Villain—“
That was my cue. I’ve done this so many times. Each and every time, I waited for those two words...
“I’m not a villain.”
“But—!”
“No. You’re a hero? You simply fight for what you believe in. Right now? I am fighting for what I believe in.”
I watched realization register onto his face. His handsome face, just before it was blown to bits.
I’m no Villain. I’m simply a regular person with a controversial opinion on how this world should be run.
And I had no intention to fail. | The fire crackled and popped, illuminating the entrance of my lair. They broke in all at once. Half a dozen heroes, none of which it seemed knowing how to use the door, might I add, stood before me.
“It’s over Mania, the jig is up,” their leader, Captain Heronius stated.
I could care less. If they want to invade and defeat my army, they are more than welcome to try.
They could actually win too, if they actually cared enough to study the enemy.
It only would have taken minutes to have realized that I am never one to appear without a plan, but they just can’t handle the fact that the villain they face is competent.
But, at the very least, they learned that bullets can pierce even the most powered flesh.
Second prompt, feedback welcome
-Sky | 2019-08-06T19:15:08 | 2019-08-06T16:11:22 | 151 | 41 |
[WP] Everyone dies twice: once when their body dies, and once when their name is spoken for the last time. One must wander the earth as a ghost until their name is spoken for the last time; only then can they pass into the afterlife. It's been over 3000 years, and you're still here. | If I knew I had more of the same to look forward to, I don't think I'd of killed myself. Really it was basically like life but worse, at least if you were alive you had needs and wants, urges and drives. When you were dead you just boredly watched the living. Watched them make the same stupid mistakes again and again.
Centuries went by before I finally figured out how a ghost died. Was spending time with one of the dead in his families home. His widow said his name and he just vanished. I hung around for a while longer but no further mention of him was made, and that's when I figured out that the dead were little more than memories. As the memory of us faded, so did we.
I knew a catastrophe unlike any other was coming when the ghosts began to vanish in droves. The only comparable time was the fall of Rome, so many who should've been remembered were lost for forever. Even then however, paled in comparison to what had been happening. I was praying with a friend of mine, a holocaust victim by the name of Elijah. I happened upon him shortly after his death, wandering around France in a daze. So long it had been since I had any real company, even as a ghost I was reviled, my name synonymous with betrayal and greed. He didn't care though, so we spent our time talking about our lives, about theology, about the world. I think part of the reason he was willing to talk to me was because he no longer saw the light, but in time he did again and in doing so made me think perhaps I could as well.
When he vanished I couldn't believe it, there was an entire museum dedicated to remembering the holocaust victims. I made my way to the museum only to find it intact, with more people than ever. I stayed there, praying each day, watching ghosts blink out of existence by the hundreds. Praying they found something better after. Then the bombs fell, it took Rome years, decades even, to fall. The modern fell in less than a week, utterly destroyed by their own power.
Even so I didn't fade, I guessed some knowledge was just to stubborn to be forgotten. I couldn't do it alone anymore however, and I had an idea of who to speak to, to begin to see about finding forgiveness. I moved slower than I could have, stopping and spending the night with survivors I'd find, praying over them, then spending the time on the road praying that my prayers were heard. I didn't think I'd find him there, but the first place I checked was the eternal city. As I suspected he was nowhere to be found, so I continued on to his old home in Galilee.
I made my way to the waters edge and saw him standing in the water, immune to the radioactivity, water lapping gently against his knees. Even after all these years I recognized him, the rock. He turned and looked at me then, and I could see the pain and anguish in his eyes. I wondered if my eyes looked similar, both of us having experienced three thousand years of human loss and suffering. "Still I don't have enough faith" he chuckled, gesturing at the water and how even as a ghost he sank beneath it's surface. "Hello Peter" I greeted. | It was all because of that stupid TV show.
I thought that it was done ruining my life when I turned twenty. The comments had slowly been dying down, and I figured that once my friends were out of their teenage years, the talk would turn to wine more so than my name.
Sufficed to say, it didn’t.
I died from old age, in the year 2090, and as my eyes closed and I could hear my relatives beginning to cry, a smile graced my face in the hope that I should find peace at last.
I awoke a few feet away from the bed, my feet floating a few inches off the ground, beside my daughter. She had only commented on my name when she was a child, and even that, only once or twice. I had always supposed my children feared me too much to make fun of my name. Perhaps that was the Russian in me. I was never as gentle as my husband.
My eyes still haven’t closed. It’s been 3000 years, damnit, yet that show has only gotten more popular. It teaches all sorts of languages now, but that theme song is still the same. It plagues my days (ghosts are not allowed to leave the building they died in). I have relived every single possible moment of every single episode.
Even after 3000 years, Swiper has to work on his swiping skills. That five-year-old I share a name with can’t possibly be that clever.
| 2016-01-17T15:06:39 | 2016-01-17T11:15:23 | 235 | 15 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | If only we knew then what we know now. The humans claimed historical sovereignty, as is the right of all new applicants into the Galactic Conglomerate. This is usually to hide a soft past in an effort to appear strong. Usually a war-like species is proud of their military capabilities. They flaunt them in a show of strength in such a loose alliance of different peoples. The humans proved to be expert diplomats, but not much else. In nearly every field, much of the conglomerate surpassed them. At least, that's what we thought.
Within thirty earth years, as is now the standard, the Dopeshki, our people, thought it would be fun and exciting sport to conquer the soft, fleshy humans. Our hard outer shells could resist most of the small arms the humans showed to the galaxy as if they were leaves falling from a tree. Our ships' shields could easily absorb their pitiful energy weapons. We didn't know that they had researched so deeply into creating projectile weapons though. It had seemed almost like an obsession to make a bigger, stronger, more deadly "gun" as they call them. Most of our warfare revolved around a slow approach and on-board combat in order to not activate the energy-absorbing shields. Projectile weapons had long been abandoned because of this.
The first battle was a slaughter. We attacked a huge transport ship bringing luxury goods and medical tools to an outer colony of theirs. The humans could not stand up to our strength in close combat, but we did not win a single fight after that.
Humans came up with the idea of a "railgun" a thousand years prior to outside contact. The first one could accelerate a tungsten rod to 1% the speed of light, and they only got better at making them from there. Our shields didn't stand a chance. We did not even realize that they were not using payloads on the projectiles until they started doing so. The colony of Darmak was the first time we found this out. Then Kartor, and Sengui, and Kalloo, and so on until it was just our home. They had developed bombs that ignited the very atmosphere of a planet, and they could fire them at 86% the speed of light. We never even knew when we were being attacked until the scorchlines were already traveling across the planet.
When we Dopeshki warred, it was like a grand hunt. It was full of sport. We had rules and valued the spoils more than the annihilation of our enemy. Surrender and tribute was always an option for our foes, for why else should one wage war if not to benefit off those who are weaker. The humans did not share such views. Many wondered why such weak creatures ever became so dominant on such a savage planet. It is because humans have no mercy once they decide oblivion is their foe's fate. They never mined our colony worlds. They never tried to seed life to them after such unimaginable destruction was dealt. The humans called it "total war," and it is something they have practiced, refined, and learned from since the dawn of their civilization. When they finally delivered the mercy treaty to our last bastion of government, they made sure that we understood they only stayed their hand so as not to look like complete monsters to the other people in The Conglomerate.
That is why we may no longer engage in war, young ones. That is why our planet is mostly barren save for the small patch of land on the continent of Congima. That is why we may never hold colonies again. That is why the humans are the head of The Galactic Empire. Never before has such diplomacy been seen. | A general, crying? Preposterous. Utterly preposterous. But it doesn't seem so now that there are so few of us left and the galaxy is a charred ruin.
"I come in peace, but I'm pleading with you, with tears in my eyes: if you fuck with me, I will kill you all."
The Earthling outpost commander sat at the negotiating table and showed what we thought was weakness. Indeed, we laughed at him.
So we pushed them. A minor tactical thrust in an out-of-the-way sector. A few hundred Earthlings, killed; a minor moon with no real resources, occupied. How could we have imagined what would follow? How could we have imagined what lay under the soft facade the Earthlings wore?
The Earthlings reacted to the poke like a cornered, wounded animal. What we didn't know was that the only things keeping them from exterminating each other on their homeworld were the world-killer weapons that we would have thought preposterous if anyone had suggested them to us. Indeed, our spies had given confused reports of their existence. And, the Earthlings made no secret of them. We never knew that for a millennium they had survived only by way of a delicate suicide pact of "mutually assured destruction." A strategic concept so ridiculous only a race of savages like the Earthlings could have conceived of it.
Yet here we are, the last remnants of a galactic civilization of trillions that spanned a thousand millennia. Wiped out, reduced to a few thousand hunted survivors barely clinging to survival. Hiding in dark corners. To our Earthling hunters, we are vermin.
And now, here they come again to finish it. | 2019-11-24T14:11:42 | 2019-11-24T14:06:56 | 426 | 157 |
[WP] Your English teacher explains the themes and symbolismes of up a best selling book she does not know you wrote. Unfortunately, she has it all wrong. You raise your hand | Reading the book aloud in class does nothing for my self-confidence. At least once a chapter someone in the class raises their hand to go into every detail of what they didn't like. I sit in the class with my head down. When it's my turn to read aloud I can do nothing but grimace at myself in disgust over my word choices. *It seems a bit dramatic,* I tell myself. *Oh man, that sentence could have been worded kind of differently.* At least I had an editor so I don't have to worry about typos. The last thing I need are twenty snarky teenagers rolling their eyes on the incorrect usage of *proliferate* and scoff at my use of words like *amalgamation*.
Mrs. Barnes gets a lot of it wrong, too. We have comprehension tests every now and then. You would think that as the author I would know the own symbolism of my book, but alas, it seems I am mistaken. Take the last test for example. One of the questions was, *What is Henry worried about when he lights the match?* The correct answer to that question is this: Henry is worried about the impact it will have on his family if he is caught. He's worried less about his own arsonism and more about the impact it will have on his family members if they find out that it's him. The same guilt he has each time he starts a fire. Call it the proverbial angel and devil on his shoulder, that guilt you get from growing up in Little Korea and having several generations weigh on your shoulders about what you *should* be doing and the kind of person you *are* and such.
But nope. Mrs. Barnes marked me wrong on that and said, *Henry is worried about his future and where he will get into college.*
This has been going on for a while.
I usually don't participate in the discussions, but tuning in I realize that my classmates and Mrs. Barnes are deep in discussion about Samantha - Henry's sister - and how Henry's being an arsonist affects her when she finds out in the eighth chapter.
"Well you know, I think this is an allegorical reference to the meaning of life," the prestigious nerd says. I roll my eyes until Mrs. Barnes enthusiastically cries, "Exactly! Excellent job, Martin!"
Martin continues, "Samantha worries about the soul of her brother should he face death. Each time he sets a fire she worries that he will perish in it. That's why she releases the boats into the river - because she is worried about him dying. The boats are a metaphor for souls being sent to their final destination."
I raise my hand. Mrs. Barnes gives me a look that tells me I am silencing genius and then calls my name. I try to be respectful as I correct them, "Actually I think that Samantha is worried more about her family finding out. She loves Henry and knows that this is a fault of him, but I don't think Samantha has shown any sign of being religious or believing in souls. The boats are symbolic for her letting go of that which she has no control over. None of this is an allegory for life. This story is mostly about family."
"Not at all," Martin dismisses me with a wave of his hand. "This story is completely about good and evil and the state of one's soul in the presence of a higher power. Henry constantly struggles with the state of his soul and whether it is tainted by the sin he commits."
"This book is not religious," I counter. "It's all about the values of family."
Mrs. Barnes rolls her eyes and Martin shakes his head softly. The rest of the class avoids looking at me. "I think you need to read the work more closely, Devin. This work very obviously alludes to many biblical passages and is in its essence a text about struggling with religion as a young adult."
"It's really not," I counter. "I'm telling you that you're making up all this religious nonsense. Henry is focused on his family. Korean culture - most Asian cultures - focus on families. I know because I'm Korean." The last thing I want to do is let them know that I'm the author, so I continue as any other student. "The only thing Henry worries about is causing shame to his family and how he would be judged in *their* eyes. He never thinks or worries about God or the existence or state of his soul."
Mrs. Barnes puts her hands up and closes her eyes in a *I'm not having this conversation because I'm obviously right* motion. "We can have this discussion after class, Devin. But I must say, Martin is in the right here."
I want to throw my arms up in the air and scream that it is not a religious story. Instead I just put my head down on my desk as Martin goes on about his religious theory. I think about English teachers and the other books we've read in class. I wonder about how many authors we've misinterpreted, and how they would feel if they could hear what we say.
---
Hope you enjoyed reading! For other stories, check out /r/Celsius232 | "So what is the story really about? Could anyone answer that for me?"
Silence.
"Alright, what if I gave you the option between 'Love overcomes all' or rather 'Science overcomes all'? Anyone? Derek?" She pointed at a boy in the back of the class, slumped in his chair.
"No idea."
"Anyone else? No? Alright. Lets take a look at the most interesting passages in this short. One of the underlying themes in the book is definitely his connection with his wife Sarah, agreed? But the other most obvious theme in the book is the development of science, and the fact that science only could bring the story to a good end. You will notice the stress the author places on the studying of scientific studies and theories..."
A boy also sitting in the back of the classroom cleared his throat and raised his hand. "Yes, Paul?"
"I'm sorry, but I feel like I have a totally different interpretation of the piece than you do."
"Oh. Alright, in which way?"
"Wouldn't you rather say that the actual underlying theme was that not only Chris was chosen randomly, but also that even though he didn't have any useful background in his personal career he managed to develop himself into a scientist because he was motivated, hard-working and because he simply needed to? Isn't the willpower of man in a certain kind of way the driving factor behind his actions, fueled by his own situation, most notably Sarah, but also because he feels like he owes it to the rest of the world? In a certain sense Chris had no qualities that another person wouldn't have had, so wouldn't you say the most delicate theme is what humanity is actually capable of? I don't necessarily disagree with the notion that science and love were important, but rather that they were instruments in allowing him to achieve what he needed to achieve."
A few teenagers had turned around staring at the boy in the back of the class. Another group of kids stared at the teacher, their normally uninterested attitudes eagerly awaiting a response.
"Hmm...that's a very good point. I wouldn't say I necessarily agree with all of them though. I feel like the blue curtains in the first scene after the time stop definitely showed the melancholy of the situation better, his loneliness already reflected in his surroundings, obviously showing how secluded he already was from his wife".
"I don't really recall there being blue curtains...", the boy mumbled.
"Aha! But what if there had been?" the teacher replied, and continued her analysis while the boy followed Derek's posture and slumped in his chair. Robin, the girl next to him, poked him in the arm. "She could be right, you know? I mean, in the end, who really knows what the author intended?"
He raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, maybe. I guess this was a good way to illustrate that a story often consists of multiple facets, and that some facets might be uncovered by someone else even while the author never intentionally implied it, or never intended it that way but on a deeper level it supports the story. Or maybe he had. I guess it's good to keep an open mind. Stories often evolve so much that it goes beyond what the author had originally planned to write. I guess that's what all these stories do in the end, what they have in common. They make you think." | 2016-04-20T06:21:06 | 2016-04-20T04:08:51 | 317 | 70 |
[WP] Your body died three days ago. But through sheer force of willpower, you are still moving and breathing, because there is no way in hell you are losing Employee of the Month to Chad again. | Of course, my death wasn't my fault. I was always a very risk-averse person, painfully aware of workplace safety and potential hazards about to happen. How could I foresee that Chad would try to throw a paper airplane made out of greased lettuce? Is it even possible to see that coming? Doubt it. How do you even think of that? How does your brain even arrive at that action? How do-
Sorry. Getting carried away again. Anyways, stupid story short, the lettuce slid right under my foot. As I fell I smashed my head on the corner of an oven, and that was it. Lights out. A living example of one of those pathetic PSAs about safe footwear in the workplace. The last thing I saw as I flipped backwards was the wall holding my employee of the month portrait, slightly askew, no doubt from Chad bumping it while attempting to mop something up. A wave of hatred flowed through me as the world went black, and then...
Nothing.
Shockingly, nothing happened. No lights, no montage, no aged men in white robes, nothing. Just a black veil that fell over me, making everything feel ice-cold.
I tentatively tried to move my limbs, but it felt like they were made of stone. My thoughts felt like they were passing through thick syrup, slowed down to a torturous pace. But I wasn't dead. At least, not *truly* dead. Perhaps not even the fates had foreseen such an utterly moronic death, and weren't ready for it. Perhaps I had a higher calling. Perhaps Death was just lazy that day. For whatever reason, I was stuck in between, swirling through a purgatory consisting exclusively of the kitchen I'd worked in for years.
After what felt like hours of thinking, willing and screaming at my limbs, I got my feet under me. Or at least, they used to be my feet. I used to own them, and now it feels like I'm a tenuous sub-letter, relying on the good graces of a dropout university student to stay housed. Another battle, and my old eyelids peeled open, fighting me every millimeter of the way. I can hear the landlord banging on the door of my consciousness, threatening to evict me.
Threatening, but not taking action. Not just yet. I may be a dead man walking, but I'll be damned if I don't walk while I can. | [poem]
Chad is bad
I am dead
I'll be glad
To beat Chad
Hello Chad
I am Dad
Being rad
To make you sad
I am bad
I killed Chad
Knocked his head
With an Ad
Now I get
Top worker of Feb
I am glad
I go back to bed
In a coffin
I am scoffing
Chocolate muffins
In celebration
Can finally die
Knowing Chad
Will never ever
Be a dad | 2019-08-01T05:31:40 | 2019-08-01T00:13:45 | 29 | 11 |
[WP] "So they are a war species then, huh." The alien scratched his head: "Why are you interested in them. The humans, i mean." The other alien got closer. "They fight for peace. No war species ever fights for peace." | Ganth stared at Blith for a moment, pondering what he just heard. "The humans, a war species, fight for peace?" Ganth's headspines twitched with confusion, the blue planet slowly spinning peacefully just outside of the ship's window. "Baffling, isn't it? The Leogarn's fight because that's what they've evolved to do. The Subjugator's uh...well that's self-explanatory. But the Humans aren't even a unified race! They're unified by economy, but not by government. One civilization will actively mettle with another's government, to either undermine or support." Blith stated, staring at the planet.
"Ganth, this species isn't space fairing. But could you imagine how our delicate balance in the galaxy would be overturned?" Blith asked, his photoluminescence lines slowed in pulses. "I've read the data blocks. I've studied the crude weaponry they deploy. The Allied Republic outright banned nuclear arsenals...but these Humans have thousands of these massive destructive weapons stockpiled away." Ganth paused for a moment. "It's frightening, knowing there is a race more destructive than the Kargons." The silver console suddenly lit up and projected a hologram of a writhing mass of tentacles. "Sargent Blith, Lance Ganth, status report." Shrieked the mass.
Blith and Ganth immediately stood to attention. "Lieutenant Shilus, we are sending a data block of our findings. Our personal opinion for the Humans is that we do not Uplift them, nor do we announce the Galactic presence to them." Blith stated. The Shilus hologram had received the block and began reading it, Blith's bulletpoints and bookmarks helped Shilus to understand the humans in a quick manner. Silent and tense moments pass, the pair awaiting the verdict they'd carry out for the humans. "Take no further action than to remain cloaked and keep studying the Humans. A detachment is being deployed for more man power and to resupply you." Shilus finally said.
"Roger, Lieutenant Shilus." Blith said. The hologram winked out, signifying the comm channel was closed. "This is the last time we volunteer for any sort of "scouting" mission." Ganth coldly said. "They're the easiest missions to do where we aren't in direct fire! Why won't you volunteer for any more?" questioned Blith. "It's because we end up spending months away from our home galaxy! We see all these alien worlds, but what use is it when a one month scouting mission turns into a two year scouting outpost!?" Ganth's spines now stood up in frustration.
Elsewhere, Shilus now floated before a counsel of various races. The data block being streamed to each of their Slates. "Thanks to the best Scouting party under my command, they've been able o attain all of this important information about the new race that have named themselves "Humans". I do believe this war experienced species would be an excellent addition to spearhead our expedition force into new galaxies."
---------
Trying to get back into writing. What do you guys think? | Weapons that every country on Earth had possession of were, in facy, quite rare outside of Earth's governments. Yes, other specieses had discovered nuclear decay, and a rare few had harnessed its energy, but weaponising it was unheard of.
They suspected that something must have destroyed all this planets, formerly occupied by hostile, warring specieses. But, due to the general interspecies belief of 'no close, unwanted observation', they had no idea that they were that destructive. When they detected our radiowave frequencies while establishing outposts on Europa and other moons of the gas giants, they had them decoded and made into picture and sound very easily. Nobody noticed it when they aimed a satellite beam at our systems, and nobody noticed a connection with a ping of over fourty-five minutes. They then downloaded our entire internet. At first, it was only open, free information that was downloaded. But slowly, over a matter of months, their systems dug into ours, hacking and stealing. Not stealing, per se, but 'borrowing'.
As ancient broadcasts of World War II, plans for weapons, markets for buying and selling guns and ammo became known to them, they became very excited. It was a chance to watch a warmongering species destroy itself, a chance never to be had before.
---------
I might continue this later, when I have more time. | 2018-03-17T04:49:59 | 2018-03-17T04:38:38 | 229 | 28 |
[WP] Soul mate's exist. One day while showering, you're teleported in a cloud of smoke to another world. You appear before a dark queen who declares her spell worked and you, her soulmate, is finally here | I stood slumped over in my shower, unmoving as the water cascaded over me. Hoping beyond hope that it would soothe my weary body and mind. It was the end of an especially brutal week. My relationship with my girlfriend had imploded, mostly due to my own inability to commit and fully open up to her. My truly awful father was trying to guilt me into reconciling with him on his deathbed. I’d lost my job months earlier, but the weight of that failure still crushed down on my shoulders as well. I’m sure most people were out on a friday night, maybe drowning their sorrows with copious amounts of booze. For me on this particular day, ‘drowning my sorrows’ meant this endless shower alone with my thoughts.
I don’t know how long I’d been in there when I began struggling to breath. Rapidly my chest started clenching, my heart rate racing. A thudding sensation began throughout my entire body. What the hell was this, heat exhaustion? Heart attack? Panic attack? Visually, the shower walls seemed to be closing in around me and growing darker. Then the floor started glowing, so perhaps hallucination was my more accurate self diagnosis? The shower floor became brighter and brighter until the luminescence was blinding. And then, without warning, I was falling. I don’t know how to describe my trip aside from it being like falling through a tunnel of pure light. After what seemed like an eternity, I landed unceremoniously with a thud on a stone floor.
“Welcome my dear!” a woman’s booming voice called out to me.
My eyes strained to take in the unfamiliar scene before me. I was in a throne room. I’d call it ‘medieval looking’, but I couldn’t imagine the interior of actual medieval castle looking this extravagant. Upon a dark and twisted throne sat a woman with a wicked grin etched on her face. As she stood, I immediately noted that she was tall, beautiful, and absolutely commanded the room with an air of supreme confidence. Everything about this place was over the top to the point of cartoonishness. That included the Queen herself. As she glided down the steps from her throne with style and panache, her elaborate dress and long colorful cape cascaded down behind her.
“As the prophecy has foretold, I have summoned my soulmate on the 7300th day of my life,” she bellowed, no longer speaking to me alone. “He shall serve me, and he shall serve you, my dear subjects!”
A massive crowd of those very subjects let out a simultaneous cheer. I became aware of their presence, and of the fact that they were staring at my stark naked body, at the very same moment.
“I don’t know what's going on, I gather you're probably my kidnapper, but did you have to nab me while I was showering?” I whispered to her as my cheeks turned red. “It’s like the one time per day I’m completely nude.”
“Oh I’m sooooo sorry my sweetheart,” she said without an ounce of sincerity before turning serious. “I could only summon you into my world while you were in the same state that you were in when you were born into yours. And as you noted, because you are just a tad repressed, that only happens while you are bathing. So in some way you actually chose the timing of your summoning.”
“This really feels like sexual harassment or at least an HR violation,” I mumbled, unable to contain my sarcasm in such an absurd moment.
“Do not fear, I have seen every inch of your nude body as I fully determined your worthiness to be my husband.”
“...Is that supposed to make me feel *better*?” I asked incredulously.
“You and I are soulmates," she said with confidence. "We will see each other in our most natural states countless times. There are no secrets between us.”
"Yeah well, ‘we’ seem to be on somewhat unequal footing in the clothing department at the moment," I replied with growing resentment.
“I am not without fairness,” she said while a sultry smile crept across her face. She snapped her fingers and for a moment her clothing disappeared and her nude body flashed before my eyes. I don’t know if she had just flashed her goods to the hundreds of people in the throne room or if she had projected that image directly into my mind, but either way, it reinforced the impression I already had of her. She was supremely confident… in every single aspect of herself. She snapped once more and in an instant I was clothed, adorned in finery only second to hers in this entire room.
After I recovered from the shock of this overtly magical display I finally asked, “What else do you know about me?”
“Everything,” she replied ominously. “On my 6th birthday I was given this soul mirror. When I gazed into it I was shown my soulmate at the exact same moments in his life. As I learned to control its magic I could travel backward and forward at my whim. I have seen your entire life, you can hide no secrets from me.”
She once again began dramatically speaking past me and to the entire assembled masses, “You are my soulmate! Mine to do with whatever I wish. You will serve as my right hand for the rest of your life, you will protect me, you will provide me with heirs, you will love and cherish me... just as I deserve!” The members of the royal court nodded their agreement. Cheers went up throughout the crowd. They ate this melodramatic stuff up.
I was a fairly broken man, but I still hated the idea of someone thinking they were in control of my life. I summoned all my courage before speaking, “I refuse.”
She let loose an honest to god evil cackle, it echoed endlessly throughout the great hall. “You will come to see the error of your refusal. To the dungeons with him,” she said as I was immediately dragged off.
___
Unfortunately this story hit Reddit's character limit, so it is continued in Part 2 below. | Leaning on the right leg more so then the left, Hamid groaned as the hot waters rained down on him. He stared at his swollen knee, inflamed because of his latest workout. After being injured a year before, he never did make a full recovery. It was always there, reminding him of the worst days he experienced.
Sighing, he place his forearm onto the tiled walls of his shower, balancing himself. His knee throbbed more than usual, its pain echoing with every loud thump of his heart. Shutting his eyes forcefully, he tried to zone out the unnatural pain and dizziness. He tried to focus on the hot water running down his bare skin, the hard smooth flooring of his tub, and the cool feel of the walls. Yet, nothing helped to relieve him of his struggle.
Letting out a shaky breath, he struggled to open his eyes; they felt like lead. Soon, his hands felt the same, falling to his side. Then the sensation made it all the way to his knees. Unable to carry such weight, he fell forward, though he had enough sense to catch himself on the sides of the tub lest he crack his skull.
Heavier and heavier he felt, until finally he could take no more. Laying on his stomach, he groaned and body strained. Yet, somehow, he was dully aware that he felt no warmth from the floor--no water flowing down--just a frigid ground of hard smooth stone.
As though the feeling never existed, he was quickly relieved of the weight. Giving him a much needed reprieve. Sucking in large breath after large breath of air, he layed on his back; his hand attempting to grapple the unfamiliar surface. As his eyes opened, he felt his heart skip a beat.
The ceiling was so high, covered by the darkness of multiple weak but flickering lights. The only thing he could see up there was monstrosity he too afraid to call a chandelier. Its golden color, reflecting the soft light of what he thought were candles.
"Welcome," an arrogant female voice called.
Startled, Hamid jumped to a seated position as he tried to find the source of the word. As he swiviledn his head, he caught sight of a women wearing a long dress that seemed to be dragging behind her. The dress was black with red and gold as secondary colors. Her hair was bright red, her face stoic yet beautiful. She stood with back straight and chin raised. Her aura seemed to dominate the entire room, for long seconds it was only him and her that existed.
"It worked, your highness. You are ever so capable," a voice behind her said, breaking their unblinking stares.
Turning his head, an old woman with bright white hair and a cane stood directly to the side; a step behind with a pure white robe. Hamid quickly dismissed her, he had eyes only on the lady before him.
"My success was inevitable, Miranda. It was only a matter of time and resources," the woman said, her husky voice giving him goosebumps.
Turning back to him, she smiled, showing a prefect set of white shinning teeth. That only added to her beauty. This time she spoke, but with more emotions, her voice echoing in the silent room.
"You have arrived, finally. My dearest soulmate, I have been waiting for so long,"
Her words struck Hamid in odd ways, like it was a cosmic truth he had never heard. As though they were meant to be together, yet how could that be? This can't be any city in the sophisticated world, there were no lights. And no lights meant no electricity. How were they meant to be together if they were never on the same plane of existence to begin with?
"But, before we elaborate any further, it would do us well to have you clothed. Yes?" The woman said.
Slowly looking down, his eyes incapable but to trail along her body--covered yet her perfect frame was obvious--and down to his. Turning red, he hastily covered himself. Looking back up with burning ears, she was already walking towards him with a smile. That made his heart skip not one but several beats.
r/JuggernautProductions | 2019-04-28T12:46:33 | 2019-04-28T07:00:27 | 41 | 18 |
[WP] You wake up one day to find yourself in your 12 year old body, in the year you were that age. You've kept all your knowledge and mental development. | **"David. DAVID. Mr. Mahoney, are you with us?"**
"Huh?" I lift my head off the desk and rub my eyes.
"So kind of you to interrupt your nap to join us for the test review. Stacy needed some help remembering some of the different ways to say 'No' when offered cigarettes, alcohol, or drugs. Can I assume you were thinking so hard that you needed to put your head onto the desk to support the sheer weight of you thoughts?"
Is that... Ms. Carney? My 7th grade Health teacher? What a weird dream. And there's a younger, svelter Shaquille O'Neal, imploring me to read from a poster on the wall. His smile hints at the fact that he has not, in fact, ever read a book. This dream really paid attention to the details.
"Earth to Mr. Mahoney! Do we need another visit after school to talk about this?" Damn, this dream is detailed *and* annoying. "Any strategies you could offer Stacy about how to say 'No' would be greatly appreciated."
Might as well chime in.
"Strategies? Just be an adult and don't do shit that you don't want to do." Gasps fill the room for an instant before all falls silent, assuming I'm not counting the screaming stare of Ms. Carney.
Ms. Carney keeps her gaze fixed on me, and replies in a slow, steady voice. "Well, first off, I do believe I'll be having a conversation with your mother about your choice of language. But to keep things focused on Wednesday's test, I don't believe that 'Be an adult' is on our list of ways to say no to cigarettes, alcohol, and drugs."
"Bullshit. It's the *only* choice. First off, who smokes anymore? Poor people and aunts who are actively seeking to shorten their disappointing life. Just vape."
"Vape?" Ms. Carney asks inquisitively, clearly caught off guard by the turn of events.
"Yeah, vape. It's cheaper, better tasting, and probably doesn't kill you. We'll see. I'm sure they'll find something ten years down the line. But whatever... the point is, there's better options. Cool kids vape."
"Ummm-"
"Alcohol. Good luck saying 'No' to the next twenty years of your social life. My first thirty sexual experiences can almost entirely be attributed to alcohol. No way Stacy blows me at Jane's Sweet 16 party without the help of Smirnoff and Gatorade."
"HEY!" Stacy slams her Spice Girls pencil to the desk in protest.
"Just learn from your mistakes. I haven't been able to even smell Goldschlager since Mike's St. Patrick's Day party. Beer Pong with Landmine Cups filled with Goldschlager was a terrible idea, but you know what, it made me grow up a little. I haven't pissed myself since."
Everyone in the class is looking at me. For a dream, this has been pretty straightforward. No shifts in location, no wacky events. Ms. Carney breaks the silence.
"Mr. Mahoney, that is some of the most horrifying advice I've ever had the displeasure to hear. You need to go to the office right now before you offer any of your sage wisdom about marijuana."
"That one's easy, Ms. Carney. Just don't overdo it. That 'gateway drug' shit is a myth, but I know a ton of people who smoke weed all day as a crutch for other things they don't want to deal with in their lives. Just take it easy, maybe a bowl or so after work to relax, or an edible before a concert. Although know your dosage with those things. One time I ate two gummies during a James Blake show, and they didn't kick in until I was driving home. That was almost pretty fucked up. Also, don't do too many dabs. It's like the meth of weed. I thought about infinity after doing a couple of dabs at DJ's house once, and I swear I had trouble breathing for like an hour."
"David, shut up, you're gonna get us in trouble. That didn't even happen! Ms. Carney, he's lying, I don't even know what 'dabs' are, I swear." DJ was tearing up and squirming in his too-big desk.
"Dude, you bought them at the pot shop the day you got 50% off because you had built up enough membership points. I don't remember the last time you *weren't* high."
"MR. MAHONEY, THAT IS ENOUGH! Get to the office, now! And I will see you after school TODAY."
These dream people are total buzzkills. Whatever. I hop out of my desk, grab my books, and head for the door. As I pass by DJ's desk, he swipes at me, hitting me right under the ribs with the backside of his fist. FUCK, THAT HURT.
As I leave the room and turn into the hall, my stomach drops as I think to myself that a sharp pain like that *should* have startled me awake. I need a drink. | My eyes flickered open. This was strange. I don't remember driving back to my childhood home last night. Plus I always thought I outgrew this bed long ago.
"Sam, honey! You're gonna be late for school," my mom hollered from downstairs. Only she didn't sound as exhausted as she'd been for the last few years. Of course I'm gonna be late for school. I'm a seven hour drive away from my university so I'd never make it on time.
I stood up to go to the bathroom and immediately knew something was off. My ceiling hadn't been this high. I stumbled my way to the bathroom and look in the mirror. There's no way. I'm my awkward preteen self again? I must be dreaming or nightmaring or whatever you could call this strange occurrence. I ran downstairs only to see my mom looking 10 years younger. Surprised, I dished out the compliment only to find my voice much higher than I'd hoped.
"Well thanks Sam but compliments won't get you out of taking that life science test today!" She said happily and kissed my on the head. The strangest pet was being shorter than her again. Wait. Life science. That means I'm in 7th grade. I wonder if it's happened yet. For now I guess I have to play along until I can go back to sleep and hopefully wake up in my own apartment ready to take on my last round of midterms. I grabbed a granola bar and the car keys before heading outside. Just as I was hopping in the car my mom came rushing out.
"Sam! Oh my goodness what do you think you're doing, young lady?" Oh right. I guess a 12 year old in Idaho shouldn't know how to drive herself to middle school. But then again there's a lot of things I shouldn't know. I shouldn't know how to code or derive equations or recall the linear analysis notes I took yesterday. I shouldn't know who wins the World Series for the next 10 years. Most importantly I shouldn't know where my dad is. I ponder whether or not I should tell my mom. I remember seeing the pain behind her smile everyday for nearly five years after she found out. I wonder if it would be easier coming from me.
As we pull up to Fremont Jr. High I look over to her. If I did have to be 12 again I'm happy I can spend some time with her before it all happens. This next year was one of the hardest of my childhood because I saw how much news of my fathers death had destroyed her and led her to unspeakable deeds to provide for us. Only this time is different because this time I can help. I can get a job sophomore year instead of wasting my time on a sport I won't end up playing in college anyway. I can get scholarships for academics. I can place bets on major sporting events. Oh my God. I can place bets on major sporting events. It's January 2006. I can tell by the calendar my mom always kept on the dashboard. No one knows the Steelers are gonna win the super bowl yet. But I do. I remember most outcomes from 2006-2009 because I had watched them hoping to feel as though my dad was beside me each time. My mom won't have to sell our cars or our house or her body to help put dinner on our table. This time I'll be able to provide enough so she only has to continue working her pet time job. This time it'll be different. | 2016-03-05T09:53:44 | 2016-03-05T09:45:36 | 76 | 50 |
[WP] You’re a normal villager in a fantasy town and the main hero has just moved in next door after completing his quest. | We’d all heard the stories, of course. Gossip travels fast in this kingdom, even when you’re living in a little village like ours.
The first one was a farmer from the next town over, making his yearly pilgrimage from marketplace to marketplace to sell this autumn’s harvest. “I swear on the Nineteen Names of the Nineteen Gods, it’s true!” he’d promised, with uncharacteristic forcefulness, while I compared his aubergines for size and crunchiness. “He took out an entire pack of those monstrous wolves, just like that!”
Then, a few days later, it was a travelling cloth merchant. “I was attacked by bandits near Astenpoor,” she confided in me, as we haggled over reels of cloth. “But just in time, a young man came riding to the rescue. I’d never seen anything like it!”
After that, it was like a dam had burst. A wandering minstrel told us about the lad who had single-handedly rescued a pretty young duchess from a terrifying witch. A pair of mercenaries swapped stories at the tavern about how a single swordsman had driven the Dark Emperor’s undead army away from their village.
The more we heard, the more obvious it became. Someone was heading for the Emperor’s castle, high up in the frigid North, and defeating every evil that stood in his path. All of a sudden, he was all that anyone could talk about.
Hero, we called him. Savior. Here was the one who would lift the gloom of the Emperor’s century long reign from our kingdom. He was our hope and our guiding light. For the first time, people were giving each other tentative smiles in the street.
And then, just like that, Dark Emperor’s reign was over. He’d been decapitated on the steps of his own throne room, the merchants said. The Hero was coming back South. The country’s aristocracy would be throwing their daughters at him, gossiped the old women at the well. Of course they would be — everyone wanted to be associated with our Hero.
On the first day of spring, a young man with bright blue eyes and an incredibly large sword knocked on my door. He was more scarred than I remembered. Battle-hardened, like the knights he’d used to idolize when we were children. I’d been waiting for him for a long, long time.
“I’m back,” he said, extremely awkwardly, and made a vague gesture towards the house next door. It had been empty for seasons, now.
I smiled at him, smoothing down the roughspun fabric of the new dress I’d sewn in preparation for this day. I was absolutely covered in flour — an apple pie sat steaming on the windowsill, still hot from the oven. His favorite.
“Welcome home,” I said, and pulled my childhood sweetheart in for a kiss. | I live alone. The guy who killed the ever-bleeding dragon, Florrïdah, lives next door. He doesn’t do much. Usually he just runs in circles or fights the air. I went to his door to thank him for killing the dragon with a nice flask of *gluhwein*, made from Schreut beets. He took it out of my hands and threw it away, muttering something about “full inventory”. He then stood there for 5 minutes staring off in the distance while the many items on him somehow switched around without him moving an inch. After that, he shut the door on me. Later on in the night, I heard something in the house so I grabbed a lamp and got up. He was pillaging my things, but I said nothing as he took my father’s greatsword from its place on the wall and turned it into scrap. He then started to walk to the bar. Being curious, I followed him there and saw him romancing my girlfriend who I planned to propose to. He then laid with her while I silently cried in my room.
I hate living in Skyrim. | 2017-11-13T09:01:01 | 2017-11-13T07:35:10 | 25 | 11 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | First time ever writing a story really, but it looks fun so let's give it a shot.
"Tell me Bardham...what do you know of the history of us humans?"
The words somehow echoed through into Bardham's mind, despite the fact that he could hardly hear anything at all anymore. His species was renown for their excellent hearing, a fact that the humans were all too fond of exploiting in their use of sonic equipment. He can still remember the screams of his comrades as they fell one by one, the only thing that *could* be heard over the cacophony of noise and lights that assailed their ship. For a moment, the thought wrenches him back to a place of noise and flame.
He's snapped back into reality by the sensation of another piercing noise from his right side. This time the sound of what must be human church bells clanging in chorus. His tormentor was an odd one even amongst those in his trade.
"Now now, Bardham," the human sneered. "We're playing by my rules now. And it's rude not to answer when spoken to."
Bardham took ragged breaths, recovering the sensation in the right side of his head. He could only make out the latter half of the sentence, but Bardham knew that it didn't matter what he said. Torture was assured regardless.
"Judging by the lack of...well, anything, in your eyes I'm going to assume you have no clue what I'm talking about." He said. "I must admit I'm rather surprised an officer like you is so ill-read. Oh well, I suppose it falls to me to...enlighten you."
For the first time since Bardham had been tied to this chair (a human one, rather uncomfortable for a triped being) the small, dark room around him began to shift. The walls became covered in pictures of human history, the music of an Earth composer drifted throughout the room. The human, properly illuminated for the first time, looked positively plain. He could've easily been one of the hundreds of diplomats that Bardham had seen walking through the Great Halls.
"I'm something of a history buff," the human smugly stated. "This is the side of us that creates and builds. The beauty of our art, the melodic constructs of our music, and we've always been this way. But there's something else..."
The walls began to shift, though the music remained. Soon he saw depictions of humanity that resembled more of what Bardham had become to know. He saw thousands of soldiers walking in tandem, he saw cities burning, he saw cruelties which transcended the boundaries of species.
The human turned to Bardham and flashed a sadistic smile. "This...is the side of humanity which we tried oh-so-carefully to conceal." the human spoke in a fervent tone. "We've massacred so many of our own. We've divided our world into east and west, wrought horrors which would make what you've experienced seem like a walk in the park."
The images on the walls shifted once more. This time, the image of a mushroom cloud on every wall. Bardham had seen these before, and in a moment of lucidity spoke for the first time. "Nuclear...detonations? That's impossible even for you filthy humans. Not a single civilization that used such things survived long enough for us to find them. They all killed themselves in the nuclear fire."
The human clapped his hands together, and an all-too-pleased look came to his face. Bardham knew he had made a mistake. This time it was the sound of what may have been the inner workings of a human spacecraft, soft plasma hums turned to roars that pain through his left side. Bardham leaned forward, screaming in agony.
As the pain subsided Bardham sat up once more, and he faintly hear the laughter of his torturer. The man was clearly enjoying himself.
"Oh we tried very, *very* hard to hide that little fact I assure you. The use of nuclear for anything but energy is distinctly outlawed even by the Consortium. The truth is that we had put such things behind us. We genuinely wanted to move on from the failings of our past." the human mumbled. He turned his back to Bardham, the his shadow layered above the holographic cloud. "Trying times, for men like me. Hard to find work for someone of my skillset. War made us *strong* once, Bardham. Any historian will tell you our greatest advancements were born on humanities battlefields."
Bardham thought back to the humans he had seen. They always seemed so...meek. Fragile. They could not run as fast as Tartarians, they were not as strong as Meolians, and they were definitely less intelligent than the floating Ourns. Even his own species was superior in terms of natural healing ability and hearing. But despite that humans found a place in the Consortium as lawyers and diplomats. Professions which valued the pen over the sword.
The walls began to dim, the cloud fading from the walls. As the room returned to normal, the human turned to Bardham once more.
"It was you," the human chuckled. "When your race saw fit to challenge our position in the Consortium. When you began to claim our lands and oust us from the only galactic community we knew, when the food began to run low, when we realized that words were still, even for as far as we had come, not enough."
Now, the walls cut to visions of the war he had known. He saw scores of his brethren brought low by weapons as effective as they were cruel. He saw humans marching in the thousands, not just to battlefields, but to factories and labs. The entire wrath of a species, shown through the lenses of four tiny walls.
"One last question for you, Bardham. Do you know what the first human space carrier was? The one that brought us from our home into the great beyond, the one that laid the groundwork for all that has happened? The culmination of an entire species technology and will?"
Bardham sat silent. He didn't know the answer, but he realized it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. He was against a foe that would throw itself into the very depths of the underworld to give the devil a black eye. His species weren't prepared for a foe like that, and the only thing that would save them now was to try and come to a desperate plea for peace. He would have to tell them what he knew, or else there would be no more hope for salvation.
"It was a battleship, Bardham. The Ares. Our god of war." | Gahonna was a trading station far out on the rim of the civilised space. At least as far as the Orkunn was concerned. Like any other representative of the Khayo Conglomerate he did not care for anything outside of the Conglomerate borders. Khayo were apex predators, they were the fastest, strongest predators on their planet and remained as one of the stronger species in the galaxy thanks to their blinding speed and ferocity in combat. And so like most of it's species Orkunn looked at the others like the prey they were. And this particular prey was proving more annoying than the others. This prey from the race that calls themselves humans from planet Dirt thinks that Orkunn was here to negotiate.
"Are you new to this quadrant prey?" Orkunn asked after the prey tried to renegotiate the deal again for the fifth time
"As I have said in my introduction humanity has achieved interstellar capability only a century ago and we have been exploring ever since. We are interested in cultural and spiritual exchanges with the other species, we are not interested in becoming slaves to your conglomeration." the savage answered rubbing his nasal passage with two fingers
"Ah this explains it. Don't worry then Conglomerate will teach you your place." Orkunn said and signaled for the guards. They will take this human and take his ship and crew and teach them all that saying no to to your masters is not acceptable. Most of them would die in horrible pain but Orkunn knew that pain is the only thing savages understood and it was so much fun seeing savages writhe and cry out in despair.
His next appointment was with Daro'ss traveler. These sentient energy beings were the only aliens that Khayo respected. Their prowess in the duels as well as public combat matches was outstanding. And since they couldn't be eaten they were the only ones worth respect in Orkunns eyes. Just not enough to actually remember the name.
The door opened and a Daro'ss suit glided in, It kept the everyone from being roasted alive by the heat given off by Daro'ss.
"I saw guards take away the human captain." Daro'ss said without preamble
"Yes, they will teach him and his crew their proper place. A pity I can't put my own talons to him but I still have more work to do. Maybe later if enough of them are still alive. Their females should make for a good meal." Orkunn explained
"Oh. I should probably go visit Khayo Prime while the spires are still standing. Take a few tissue samples for our databanks. I hope humans are merciful towards Khayo and give you a quick death." Daro'ss said and turned around
"Wait. You don't mean to imply that some barbarian prey are going to defeat the mighty Khayo hunters?" Orkunn bristled at the insult
"Orkunn my dear stupid boy. Did you not read what I have sent you about humans when they arrived yesterday?" Daro'ss said as put his palm to his face shield.
"I stopped reading after I read their physical traits. They are no match for us in combat. No claws to pierce our hide, think skin, no venom or acid. They are slow, weak and squishy. There is nothing else to know." Orkunn waved his hand dismissively
"If you had read it you would know that they have already defeated Utlu and exterminated Javllt. Even we fought against them and lost." Daro'ss said
"You lost? Javllt are exterminated?" Orkunn was confused
"Yes, they cleansed the planets occupied by Javllt using nuclear fire. They killed every brood mother and crushed every egg. There are no more Javllt left in the galaxy. Our leaders didn't like it so sent several Plasmaguards to stop them. It wasn't even a fight. They just eliminated them." Dar'ss stated
"But how?" Orkunn was stunned at the news. Javllt were tough to kill and they were impossible to get rid off once a colony wound up on a planet. You can kill tens of them and they would still have more soldier drones. Khayo policy up to now was to leave Javllt infestations alone.
"Humans practice what is called a total war. They don't send a few warriors to fight each other. They send thousands. They produce special vehicles only ever used for combat and arm tens of thousands of them. Once they feel threatened they can turn their whole species into a giant war machine. Dedicated to bringing death to their enemies. We learned to fear the clang of the feet of human soldiers as they march in their combat suits. You will too if you survive." | 2019-11-24T16:37:08 | 2019-11-24T15:28:18 | 85 | 54 |
[WP] Magic exists, however with a catch. Everyone can only use magic the way they expect magic to function. Harry Potter fans MUST do weird wand waving while Call of Cthulhu players all end up going insane. Write an interaction or duel between two vastly different magic users.
Honestly if magic did exist in our world, this is how I’d expect it to function to please everyone
—-
Wow front page! That’s actually amazing | "Damn it Gandalf, do something!"
"No, I shall not!"
This...has been an interesting battle.
*****
I've fought hundreds of wizards from dozens of different worlds in the past, and I've always come out ahead. Gandalf the Grey, they call me - the greatest wizard of Middle Earth, and up until now the greatest wizard here in Magira. Aang the Avatar, the young Harry Potter, Merlin the Prophet...many memorable battles with many formidable opponents in the past few decades.
This...wizard who currently stands before me does not look like much, to be frank. He calls himself Bob. He is extremely overweight, smells of a dead skunk, and whatever magical properties that the orange powder on his plain white shirt might have, it certainly does not make him look any better. Yet..he is the most difficult challenge I that I had ever faced.
...Nay, calling it a challenge would be highly overrating myself. The man summoned an entire island out of nowhere, and what's more, he did it without even an incantation. "Your turn", he said. I was taken aback, frozen in shock at the unknown power of this archmage standing before me. "My turn?" he asked. I nodded, wanting to see what else he can do. He then summoned another island, completely identical to the first one. What was the purpose of this? What was Bob aiming for?
"Your turn", he repeated. Perhaps he was trying to drown me in water, I do not know. Whatever the case, I decided I could not let Bob continue at his own pace.
"As the wielder of the Flame of Anor, I challenge thee!" I slammed my staff on the ground below me to conjure up my most powerful spell. The same spell I had used to smite a Balrog. The same spell I had used to defeat every other wizard in Magira. Perhaps this time will be no different.
Oh how wrong I was.
"I play counterspell", he mumbled, and with a wave of his hand the two islands tilted sideways. And with that, all the magical powers in my spell disappeared. "My turn?" he asked. I slowly nodded once more, desperately trying to maintain my composure. The two islands tilted back upright, and he conjured up another island.
This went on for ten more minutes, with every single one of my spells effortlessly countered by Bob's single motion of his hand along with various single words. "Counterspell". "Cancel". "Cancel". "Syncopate". I was no match. This was a battle between a mortal and a god, and I am no god.
However, on the 11th minute with 11 identical islands on his side, Bob changed his rhythm. Instead of saying "Your turn" for the 12th time, he muttered another phrase.
"I pass", he said. I was utterly confused as to what he meant by this, but I knew in my heart that I cannot let it happen.
"You cannot pass."
"Uhh...what?"
"You cannot pass", I reiterated.
"...Well, are you gonna do something then?"
"No."
"Sooo...my turn then?"
At this moment, I realized that his islands were still tilted sideways, frozen in its unnatural state by whatever wizardry that was surrounding it. I recalled that every time Bob dispelled my sorcery, his islands tilted.
I had a plan.
"It is not your turn."
"Uhhhh...so what are you gonna do then? I pass."
"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!"
"Whoa man, calm down! And fucking do something then!"
"No."
"Do you pass?"
"...No?"
"I pass."
"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!"
"Damn it Gandalf, do something!"
"No, I shall not!"
An interesting battle indeed. | Streaks of light paint the night sky as a girl sings her heart out. The intense melody of “Sayonara no Tsubasa” fills up the surrounding along with explosions from the battle between the Unicorn Gundam and the girl’s Boyfriend’s YF-29 Durandal.
The Unicorn Gundam in Destroy mode fires it’s beam magnum along with its 3 shield funnels firing their dual Gatling guns at the Durandal. The Durandal dodged the shots while utilising the different forms it has. Then in Battroid mode fires it’s heavy beam gun and beam cannons along with a barrage of missile at the Unicorn in which it uses its shield funnels to form a triple shield while using a Newtype enhanced I-Field to block the beams and using its head Vulcan to intercept the missiles.
“I’ve had enough of this!” both Pilots exclaimed.
The Unicorn’s Psychoframe then changes from Blood Red to Aurora Green. “Let’s do this! UNICORN!” with a shout the Unicorn emits a bright light, which is the Psyco-Field when a Newtype resonates with a Mobile Suit using a Psycoframe.
The Durandal speeds towards the Unicorn just as the girl reaches the chorus, “Sono tsubasa wa BARUKYURIA!” Then the Durandal emits a streak of yellow light which connects to the singing girl, a clear sign of a Fold Resonance, which happens when Fold Waves emitted from singing resonates with the Fold Quartz System of the Durandal.
Thanks to the power up from such phenomenons, the battle becomes even more fierce and the dark night sky is painted with various colours, from the red and blue beam blasts to the green and yellow effects from each phenomenon.
With one final push, both Unicorn and Durandal speeds towards each other, with the clear intent to finishing the fight with one final move. With the Unicorn enlarging it’s beam tonfa and the Durandal in Fighter mode charging it’s beam gun boosted by the Fold Waves emitted by the girl, both mechas fly toward each other at high speed.
| 2018-10-16T00:47:11 | 2018-10-15T22:23:51 | 361 | 13 |
[WP] "This is an Emergency Alert. Barricade all entries to your house. Do not go outside after sundown. Restrict contact with others. Do not enter tunnels during daytime. Do not make any light or noise between 6PM and 8AM. Stay inside your homes until dawn. Military aid is unavailable. Good luck." | “This is an Emergency Alert. Barricade all entries to your house. Do not go outside after sundown. Restrict contact with others. Do not enter tunnels during daytime. Do not make any light or noise between 6PM or 8AM. Stay inside your homes until dawn. Military aid is unavailable.”
I was stunned, a spoonful of ramen halfway to my mouth, when I bolted over to a window to peek into my neighbor’s house from my own. A perfect view right into their tv room, and... nothing. No same message or shut off. It was still an hour or so until night, and I had some plywood sitting around because of the hurricanes, but...
“If you just heard that alert and are still listening, sit down and shut the fuck up. You’re going to have to listen very carefully and take every word I say with the gravity they entail. I won’t be telling you my name, but I will tell you my significance.”
Whipping around, I can see a man on the screen. Old. Ancient, really, but somehow still youthful and speaking with the energy of a man much younger. His eyes, though. Hard. Spoke of years of experience and seeing things he wishes he could unsee.
“I am a part of the O5 council. I work for what is simply known as The Foundation. We work to protect the world from creatures. Anomalies. We contain them and study them. Usually this all goes right. I would not be revealing our existence if it had right now. What we are experiencing is a humanity level threat right now, and only some of you are being told this. Not everyone can be saved, and we feel that taking some casualties in this instance will be beneficial. This gives us time to recontain the threats. What has happened is one of our sites has been breached. Massively so. All failsafes failed when we needed them most, and so many of these threats we have been studying have been released into the world. This was also a result of multiple anomalies showing up at once, posing enough of a threat to necessitate this announcement in conjunction with what developed into multiple site breaches.”
I had no idea what this man was talking about, but I stayed put, hearing him out with a pit in my stomach. Why couldn’t everyone be saved? We were using them as... fodder? Why me?
“Those is you who have been selected are by and large because of what you can do to help us rebuild. And because you’ve been profiled by us so we know you would be able to act accordingly with this information. You are not forbidden from telling those you can, but every second you spend with them is another you could use to prepare. Do not attempt to contact your law enforcement or any news networks. Social media will not allow you to inform the world. We have made sure of this. It is likely many of those who you know will be dead in the next few days. Daylight offers some solace, but the night is simply too dangerous. One of the aforementioned anomalies has altered the moon, and some others traveling in the dark effectively lethal without significant illumination or firepower. Military forces are being aided by us, but many will lose cohesion. Count yourselves among the lucky ones. The world as you know it is about to change. Good luck.”
I feel numb. This doesn’t make any sense. Yet for some reason I act. I get my hammer and plywood, turn out my lights, and shore up my home. It’s almost as if I have no control over my body. My home is just as it needs to be. I lock my doors for the last time and retreat to my basement, curling up in a corner. The screaming starts after the light fades.
That was three months ago. I spent a month in hiding, had a lot of food stocked up in case something went weird like this. Not prepper level though. I was down to beans out of a can when they came. In the middle of the day, my door was battered down by a handful of men. They wore military style gear clad in white and black with a strange logo, all of them radiating incredibly bright light as they breached my home. They rescued me. Now here I am. One of the lucky few. We’ve been placed into a facility on a massive island. I’m told it’s all man made. Stunning, really.
I stood on the shore when they bathed the world in nuclear fire. I couldn’t comprehend it, really. They said it would leave no harmful after effects. That they weren’t real nukes. I felt like I could hear the screams of those left behind from here. Of my neighbors who were ripped apart in the night. Their children. I wish they had been chosen.
So we’ve begun to rebuild. True to their word, no radiation was to be found. I’m told that regardless of how things go here, we have been left behind to rebuild as another reality is saved by those with the knowledge of what happened here. I have no grasp of what this foundation really does, and just what lengths they can go to preserve our future, but I don’t want to know.
All that’s left is the present. A broken timeline, a broken world, and a broken people trying to put everything back together. It’s funny really, that they saved me. They knew what a society was made of, what it would take to bring it back from the brink.
I’m a fucking writer. | The broadcast began again, but I shut the radio off. After listening to it for two years, I could say the damn thing in my sleep. It was strange, how something once so terrifying quickly became banal and tedious. No one listened to it anymore. We all knew what was coming, and that part about military assistance? A joke. There wasn't enough hazard pay in the world to get people to go outside after sundown.
I stood by an undrawn, unshuttered window, watching the sun sink those last few inches. Nerves buzzed beneath my skin. Normally, I have the storm shutters shut tight, the windows locked and bolted with blackout curtains pulled tight and pinned to the walls on either side, the whole thing covered by a layer of soundproofing material. The front door would be locked and the secondary door, a thick slab of sheet metal, would also be closed and secured. I'd have pushed the heavy sofa in front of it and curled up in a nest in the middle of the room, all lights off except for a single lamp. There I'd wait for morning to come, distracting myself with a tablet while making no noise and pretending I didn't exist.
Tonight was not a normal night. Tonight, I had Taurus and Leo.
I glanced over my shoulder at the two creatures lounging in the middle of the cleared room. They were *canis lupus stellaris*, a hybrid between the terrestrial wolf and the exobiological monstrosities that the Cygnians had seeded on the Earth to empty it for them. Technically called Zodiac Wolves, they were commonly known as 'stardogs'. We had been breeding them for a while, trying to get just the right mix of genes. I personally had been training these two, which was why I had the dubious honor of testing them in combat.
I was the bait.
Each of the stardogs was the size of a small car. They had the basic body structure of a wolf, but the similarities ended there. Their ears were longer than usual, and tucked beneath massive sets of pointed horns that cascaded down around their heads. Wide, blocks muzzles with thick whiskers hid double rows of teeth, thought the tips of two sets of elongated fangs peeked out. Deep purple drool slid down the teeth and hissed slightly as it landed on the carpet. A third pair of limbs emerged from the thick muscles of their shoulders and ended with a set of three razor sharp claws on grasping fingers. Stout spines jutted out from the rich black coats that were interlaced with silver strands. The silver seemed to ripple as they moved. The pair were more muscular than normal wolves. Their whip-like tails split into three at the base, and each was tipped with a spine that secreted the same oozing indigo poison. The tails waved slightly as they stared at me, waiting for my cue.
I turned away from those cutting purple eyes, rich with intelligence and focused with bloodlust. They had picked up on my growing anxiety. I took a long drink from the coffee cup in my hand. I didn't really need the caffeine. Adrenaline already had me on the tips of my toes.
The sun released its hold on the world and vanished in silence. In the last struggling rays, I saw a hulking shadow detach from a copse of trees in the distance. It began to slink towards the tiny, isolated house.
I set the mug down, slowly and deliberately. Behind me the pair rumbled, sounding like twin jet engines gearing up.
"Showtime, boys," I said casually. I took my place between them as the window I had been looking out of exploded inward. | 2018-04-18T11:27:41 | 2018-04-18T11:23:53 | 91 | 35 |
[WP] Dave is the first human convict to arrive in the intergalactic prison. | What surprised him the most, was how clean the facility was. Dave was no expert on prisons. The only time he had ever spent in one was a night in the drunk tank the summer after graduating high school.
"Dave, human of earth, for the crime of sexually harassing the princess of Omega 13 you are sentenced to 3 days." The computer translator announced following a series of gurgling noises from the green cyclops which sat in the desk before him. Dave thought he might be misinterpreting but it seemed to him, the alien was very uncomfortable with the situation.
"All I did was shake her hand!" Dave exclaimed in confusion. As a former employee of NASA and now a member of the presidential cabinet, he was chosen to be the face of humanity. However, it seemed he had royally screwed that up.
The green alien scoffed, "You humans are truly barbaric creatures, to think you would have such am undignified way of greeting. Be glad we do not want to ruin our relationship with your people or the punishment would be death."
Dave was led away by two giant guards with orange leathery skin. The two guards seemed as if nothing could frighten them. Yet, they gave Dave a wide berth as they led him to his cell and continued to nervously glance at him. His cell had 3 others already inside; Dave was not a brave man but he was quite sure that even a brave man would find them terrifying.
"ummm hey?" Dave spoke in an unsure and quite voice. His cellmates immediately jumped back against the wall, obviously terrified of the small human before them. This might seem silly to some but when dealing with things on a galactic scale, only a fool judges a book by its cover.
After all, a Thyrax is only a foot tall but can flay your mind by simply looking at you. A Skytar on the other hand, possesses a stinger which causes the victim to die in a way so painful that there is nothing else in the known galaxy to even compare it to. Therefore, when one considers the fact that humans are still a complete unknown and this specific human only got a 3 day long prison sentence for assaulting a member of a powerful royal family, it was only logical to be afraid.
Dave did not figure this out for himself until the last day of his sentence. Prisoners would give him their food just because he looked in their direction, his cellmates acted like rats stuck in a python's cage and the guards which spared no mercy for the other prisoners, showed him the utmost respect.
Only a day later, Dave once again met with the galactic council. "We have decided not to share our warp-drive technology with the humans." The bird like alien chirped. "Tell your leaders that you will be provided transportation by us whenever we deem necessary for it is in the best interest of the galaxy that humanities freedom be limited for the first few centuries."
Dave was afraid this would happen, especially after the scandal. "Unfortunately, my leaders have just informed me that we can not accept these terms."
"They have?" The yellow gel-like alien to the left asked through a computer terminal.
"Well, of course." Dave lied in a smooth voice and prayed his bluff would work. "You see, we humans can telepathically communicate with our minds." He could see the impressed reaction of the aliens before him.
"We did not know of this." The head alien replied in a singing like voice. "Can you show us now?"
Dave had expected this and already prepared a reply. "Councilor, how you ask such a thing!?" He exclaimed with feigned offence. "This is only something we use between the closest of family and friends. To ask for someone to telepathically communicate with you is the height of rudeness for our people!" The councilor having no choice, quickly apologized for asking him to prove this ability with obvious embarrassment.
"In fact," Dave continued now gaining confidence. "Asking you to share your warp-drive technology is for your sake. We humans normally travel the galaxy through black holes we create with our belly buttons. If you insist we will travel to your worlds using this method but I expect it to cause some problems."
"We have no evidence of this." The bird-like alien rebutted but it was easy to pick up the confusion in his voice.
"Well that is obvious." Dave replied with an easy smile. "The galaxy is a big place and we did not know where to find you. Fortunately, we now know exactly where you live. Also, it would certainly be quite irresponsible to go creating a bunch of black holes in our own system."
Nobody spoke a word as the aliens gazed in amazement at Dave. His smile was easy but it was also terrifying.
"We will reconsider our decision." The head alien spoke in a defeated voice.
"Wonderful! I will be on my way then." Dave hummed a cheerful tune as he began to unbutton his shirt.
"Stop!" The entire room of aliens yelled in unison. "We will provide you with a ship....consider it a gift from us."
With a skip in his step, Dave strolled to the hangar where his new Phantom-Class star ship waited. | Dave hadn't felt much of an ambassador during the reception held in his honor, though he had tried to solve that by attempting to shake hands with one of his hosts. He was also pretty sure that ambassadors normally didn't get engulfed, seemingly out of nowhere, by amorphous white blobs that filled his mouth, nose, and lungs, and tasted vaguely of blueberries. Nor was he proud of his erection during that unknown time spent in warm darkness.
His least ambassadorial moment was probably when he was ejected at some velocity from his gloopy confines, apparently stark naked and retching up the viscous orange fluid only to find himself looking up at a gaggle of various alien forms surrounding him before descending down on him with tooth, talon, claw, and other unknown pointy appendages.
---
Dave hadn't quite expected to wake up after that, opening his eyes to find himself lying on his back beneath a panoply of tall sequoias, so he closed his eyes again for a while in the hopes that the universe might make more sense given a little more time to get itself together.
He opened his eyes again. Still sequoias.
He raised his head. Still naked and erect. Also a blue sky and verdant fields as far as he could see.
It would have to do.
---
"But why?" he yelled once again at the flat, bald head occupying half the sky above him.
"Because you are degenerate!" it thundered back, yet again, "Deviant!"
"Is this because of my erection? Because they usually don't-"
"Degenerate! Deviant!" it screeched. It's eyes bulged a little as it spat out its condemnations, and not for the first time reminded him a little of bloated chihuahuas.
Dave was silent for a few seconds, then decided to try another question.
"So, where am I?" he said, realizing that he probably should've started with this one.
"This is a world of correction. A place for degenerates and the unclean, for destroyers and defilers." the head intoned, seemingly calming down a little.
Dave racked his brain for a question that wouldn't just result in more yelling.
"So, what am I supposed to do?"
"Reform! You will not hunger or thirst. You will not expire. Nor will any other on this world." It said, before flickering slightly and fading from view.
Dave's erection sagged a little.
---
Dave's eye twitched a little as he carved another strike into the bark of the middle sequoia. He wasn't sure how many days it'd been since he came to this world, as he'd never bothered to count the strikes he'd so meticulously etched into the trees. It didn't seem to matter that much. He liked his new life a lot better than his old one - his hosts had done him a favor, really.
He stroked his long beard absentmindedly, turning to look at the horizon, content that soon he'd be able to cut it and fashion a replacement for the frayed garment wrapped around his erection.
Today, like all other days, Dave would hunt. He picked up his makeshift spear and started jogging towards the hill on the horizon. He was pretty sure the slug thing still lived on the other side of it, and it made fun noises when it died. | 2016-08-23T09:46:40 | 2016-08-23T09:13:06 | 82 | 23 |
[WP] Monks discover scary secret: there is only limited souls being 'recycled' by reincarnation and by reaching the highest human population ever, soulless people are being born.
Animals too. We're out of souls, guys.
Edit: few people told me they knew RPG or movie or game with this theme. Sorry guys, I thought of this in the shower and I haven't heard of this before. Just a coicidence.
Edit 2: amazing responses! I'm glad you got inspired because each one of these is terrific! | It started on a pretty small scale. Things we never noticed until we looked back. The odd animal abandoning their young. Small increases in crime rates. That kind of thing. Simple stuff, seeming like normal variations to the vast majority of people.
But things grew more blatant as time passed. There were reports of newly-born domesticated animals killing siblings. More and more parents abandoning children entirely. Children doing the same to parents. Orphanages filled up, Adam Sandler films skyrocketed in popularity, life expectancies decreased. People began to take note. Governments began to take note. Nobody had an explanation, but as the world progressively got worse there was a growing disturbance across the planet, as if everyone could feel the wrongness resonating deep within themselves. Like pieces of their essence were missing.
It was a little while later that the rumours began. First sweeping through the religious communities, and then the general population. Monks in a far-off monastery had proposed that a limit existed on the amount of souls that could be in the world. That as babies were born, and population grew, souls were being divided to make room for new arrivals: people being born with half a soul, a quarter of a soul. It was whispered that one day, one day soon, we would reach a time when there was no more to go around and suddenly we would be dealing with people who were entirely without a soul.
Uproar followed. Some major world religions denied the idea, and others advocated it as much as they could. Those who didn't believe the idea had no idea what was happening. Most of those who did believe had no idea how to fix it. People who did have an idea generally kept such ideas to themselves, thinking about said ideas only in the dead of the night when nobody else was awake to see them shudder.
As time passed, the issues worsened. Parents were found dead on the floor with babies sitting oddly still and triumphant. Bottom links of food chains across the world disappeared entirely. The human race survived, but other species weren't so lucky. People saw the end times approaching and took what pleasure they could in the mean time. And so as high as death rates got, birth rates were ever higher. Religious spokespeople became ever more powerful as they were turned to for hope. And the solution that so many had conceived in their nightmares soon became the most hotly discussed topic, with one question dominating the minds of most people - how many would have to die to reverse this, and would that prevent it from ever happening again?
Eventually, after the dust settled, I imagine that many of those who are left will theorise that this is the tipping point - the point where desperation caused the human race to lose its soul. But those in our time wished simply to survive, and decided that they would deal with the situation with any means possible. Shelters were set up for the most important of society - the radius was calculated to not reach them, but many believed that they would rather be safe than sorry anyway.
Areas were chosen where people had 'the least to lose'. Strangely, the people in those areas weren't consulted about how much they had to lose.
And that brings us to now. Thirty minutes before launch. And sitting here, thirty minutes from pressing the button that will half-destroy our home, I wonder what the future will think of us. I hope it will simply be that we did what we had to do.
But I know that it won't.
*****
This was my first Writing Prompt response... feedback would be appreciated if possible! I don't know how cliché this is to be perfectly honest, looking back now it seems a little... I dunno... generic?
Anyway, yeah, feedback would be appreciated on anything you see. Thanks for reading! | It's been 13 years since the start of the affliction. Humanity (and all mammals) have for all intents and purposes, have become a sterile race. What was initially believed to be just a disease that affected North America quickly spread throughout the globe. Children everywhere were being born with no sense of life. No desires, no wants. Only capable of the most basic of functions. Eating. Sleeping. Defecating. Not a single child has smiled, cried, laughed, pouted. No singing, no talking. Our children were being born soulless. In the first year, their was a population boom. People thought they would not be effected. They thought they could have children with souls. They didn't listen. After that terrible first year, word got out. The world was doomed. People still had babies, hoping they would be lucky enough to break this curse. It never worked. For thirteen years this went on.
Then, on the thirteenth anniversary of the first afflicted child's birth (no longer referred to as birthdays, for what joy was there to be celebrated?), they woke up. All of them. At once. Every soulless child, every dog, cat, bear, dolphin, mouse born without a soul woke from their soulless slumber.
Most thought their children were dying: spasms, then more severe shaking and uncontrollable physical outbursts. Then after the first 5 minutes it stopped
Then they all screamed. And screamed. And screamed. All at once, at levels beyond imagine.
Next, the Earth screamed. As if mother nature herself heard their shrieks, the very ground started trembling. Hurricane force winds assaulted the entire planet at once. Rains and lightning seemingly responded back to the cries of the soulless.
That was how it began. What these children brought forth however, out of their darkness? That will be the end... | 2022-11-18T03:59:06 | 2015-08-22T12:56:37 | 602 | 10 |
[WP] You are Dog to which dyslexic people sometimes address their prayers. You do your best to help because you're a good boy, but alas, you are a dog. | I try to be a good boy. Dogs are man's best friend, right? Our two species practically grew up together. I suppose it's that feeling of ancestral duty that makes me do it.
Despite all of man's advances, some still can't tell the difference between GOD and DOG. Dyslexia is a bitch (no pun intended). So when I get an errant prayer, I try my best to help.
I do what I can. You need a friend? I can hang out for a day. Emotional support? How about we take a nap, friend? Sometimes it can be difficult though. I'm not a genie, you know.
I can't fetch your wife back, Phil. She's already moving on. And no Karen, I can't heal your sister's mental Illness. Sometimes life just sucks.
But I do what I can.
Today Alex Baker prayed for me to bring back his dead mother. Humans are funny like that. To live in the moment is freedom, I should know. But humans love to live in the past.
Alas. Maybe I can help Alex today.
When Alex wrote his prayer to me, he was sitting by his mother's grave with his nanny. I could see him laboring over the manilla paper with crayons, scribbling away. "Dog, plez bring my mommy bak.". Below that was a drawing of two stick figures holding hands. One was wearing a dress.
I could see the headstone. "Here lies Annie Baker. Loving sister. Beloved mommy".
Normally I would never entertain a request like Alex's, but that shit got me teary-eyed so tonight, I think I can help.
...
It's midnight and I've been digging for hours. Finally I have reached Annie's next to final resting place and I need to say a prayer of my own because I have no thumbs and this casket is closed.
Well, it was closed. It looks like I got lucky and this coffin is pretty cheap. The lid took a little persuasion from my nose, but it gave.
I can't wait to see the look on Alex's face. I know where he lives based on his scent from earlier today. Just a few blocks north. He's going to be so excited to see his mommy.
I left her on the porch. Unfortunately it has been awhile since Annie passed and she was not exactly travel-ready. Those stairs on the porch really did a number on her body. But I got the important part to the doorstep.
Alex is waking up now. Based on the strength of his scent on the porch, he probably runs down to play outside first thing most days. This is going to be great. Another mission accomplished. I'm watching from some bushes across the street.
He's opening the door. They are locking eyes. He's screaming in ecstasy. His mommy is back. | Dog is a good boy. Does what he’s told when he’s told. Dog is always learning new tricks. He’s always helping people with their problems. You see, Dog is constantly addressed strange letters with some unusual requests. They always start out with “Dear doG”. He tries to help but, he can’t always do so. Over the years the letters began to pile up by Dog’s little dog house. It had always made him sad to see the commands and tricks he couldn’t do. Until one day as an old pupper, Dog had had enough. He let out a wheeze and small grunt then closed his eyes. He sat there in his little dog bed for days. Not even a single twitch or tail wag. Then after an entire month of laying in his bed, Dog woke up. He was radiating with the energy of a million good boys. Dog knew what he must do. He opened his third eye and with a wag of his tail he let out a small “arroo”. Then all was white.
(Im a mobile user so I’m sorry in advance for all grammatical errors and such) | 2019-03-25T07:38:52 | 2019-03-25T06:53:21 | 64 | 13 |
[WP] You won't hold heroes hostages to torture them. You won't throw a hero against a wall once you have them by the neck. You sure won't start monologuing if you have a hero at gunpoint. You're the deadliest villain in history. A villian without an ego. | I know that I have a reputation. I know that even other villains are afraid of me, and that behind closed doors they are all too quick to call me a monster.
I find this a little ironic. While the various hero and villain associations like to keep their public image very Saturday morning cartoon, I know how things are run behind closed doors.
When a villain goes off radar, it’s not always because they’re in jail and that when the hero association says someone is doing “under cover work” it’s typically because they are either dead or in therapy.
The best kept secret in both industries is that nobody manages to truly retire. As soon as you hang up the cape you’ve essentially painted a target on you and everyone you love, and no one from either organization is going to come to save you.
I gained my reputation from trying to change that.
It was a harsh lesson that my family quickly learned when my father, Ernest Belldin , better known as Dogtor Wolfman , was targeted. Looking back on it, the heroes who decided he was a good person to squeeze for information where probably newbies.
After all he was hardly the most dangerous person on the council, especially considering the whole point of him joining the council in the first place was to earn enough money to treat his condition.
Honestly in a perfectly world, my father would have been considered a great man, if not a little flawed, man of science.
Although his cure didn’t completely eliminate our family curse, it did neuter it’s negative effects enough that it’s predicted that a few generations down the line it could be considered a genuine super power.
Unfortunately my children and I still hold enough lupine characteristics to draw attention. Once it became clear that my father had held onto enough villain tech that he wasn’t as easy a target as they were expecting , they started targeting me.
While I wasn’t thrilled with this development, I was more accepting of this than when they decided to start threatening my children.
Although their severed heads were supposed to be more of a warning to other hotshots who try to mess with my family, the Council of villainy took it as my application letter.
I tried to avoid getting too involved with them, but when my bills started to stack up, I found the allure of easy cash was too hard to ignore.
Unfortunately my first official team up happened to be with the Grand Inquistor.
I can assure that whatever the papers say about me, he was a million times worse.
I had chosen to work for him because of his anti-hero reputation.
However after working with him for about a week, I quickly learned that he was a dangerous sociopath who had a serious hard on for taking revenge on the heroes who he saw as having wronged him by any means necessary.
Although working with him was a torturous experience in its own right, I appreciated that it taught me exactly what kinds of things I could live with myself after doing.
Unsurprisingly, while I have no issues with killing heroes, torturing children and the elderly is my breaking point.
As you can probably guess, I decided to make an example of the Inquistor.
While this didn’t make me especially popular with the council, it definitely got the word out. Some of the smarter heroes and retirees had an ear out for the gossip on my end.
While they fear me, they know that if someone threatens their families, they can come to me | You know, most people expect the hero or villain of a story to have at least some form of an unneccecarily plot-devicy ego, that makes fights longer than they should be and gives the other party too many chances to win.
Well, i'm not like that. If someone tries to stop me from dissassembling their lair, or tries to force me into handing over my newest piece of stolen supertech to the authorities, then i defeat them, plain and simple. No monologe, no ethical debate, no second chances.
YOu get in my way, and you get rekt. No excuses. You have your hand on the self-destruct of your Handwavium-powered superreactor? You'll be dead before you can move a muscle, smartass. Charging your super-heroic friendship-powered ultimate attack? I hope you didn't need your arms, showoff. You want to make a deal? Not interested, go spend the next year in the ICU, dickhead. Etc, etc.
THis has given me a reputation of sorts, of the "everyone fears and/or despises me" variety. Villains are more afraid of me than of any actual hero, and the hero's fear running into me more than they do with their own villains. I'm the guy that cuts your face of mid-monologue. I'm the guy that breaks your legs in the middle of your heroic charge. I'm the guy that shoots people instead of engaging them in a superpower duel.
I am the Lair Eater, and i'm the most lethaly effective villain in history.
| 2018-10-18T15:54:26 | 2018-10-18T15:32:17 | 551 | 27 |
[WP] It has been verified that dying will result in going to heaven, no matter what. You are the government, trying to lower the suddenly skyrocketing suicide rate. | "What are our options here," Obama asked his room of advisors and officials. "Realistically, please."
A long pause filled the air of the room like a balloon. The expectation of an answer became suffocating. A small cough leaked its way through the crowd of people standing at the periphery of the wall. All eyes moved towards the direction of the sound, and a palisade of people parted to display a small man in a small suit, behind large glasses and a crooked tie.
"Bill Toth, sir," squeaked and voice that echoed the man's stature, "Junior analyst at the agency."
His voice shook at the attention now thrust upon him. A senior member began to interrupt, but the President silenced him with the wave of his hand.
"Go on, Bill. What are we looking at?"
Bill nervously looked around the room, as if it was already suggested that his next words should not be communicated before hand.
"We have to sway public opinion, sir, but in one of three directions."
"Go on," the President urged.
"Well, if we look at Syria as an example, or even Cold War Russia, you see a control of information that was then unraveled by information channels spreading faster than the government could control. It is virus-like, in nature, and these regimes major fall was trying to combat this growth, as opposed to using it to spread their own message. It's quite interesting, actually. The --" Bill looked around the room to see that he would lose his skeptical audience if he continued down that conversational rabbit hole.
"Forgive me. Anyway, one method is to spend our efforts discrediting the sources of the confirmation of the after-life. We could plant evidence showing that they are tied to a high-level conspiracy that is planning a watergate-type suicide. Leaked files, hidden folders and agendas could all be manufactured to show some kind of malicious intent. This would bring the debate back into the public forum about the afterlife, and that uncertainty would keep people from killing themselves."
The eyes in the room looked at each other, unsure of what to make of this.
"Well, that's the only reason why there weren't mass suicides before, right? Uncertainty? We have to examine why it took a confirmation from an outside source for religious people to believe that this was their final destination, no matter what. Anyway, that is just one method."
The President's brow furrowed in deep thought.
"The other is to try and nationalize life. Try to explain that there shouldn't be a rush, and that it is the American dream to create something on this planet for the future generations of Americans. However, with national pride at an all time low, I would suggest not traveling down this road."
The President sighed and nodded in agreement.
"Lastly," Bill started, as he looked around the room at each of the faces in there, "We start a war with God."
A commotion began to rise from the crowd in disagreement and disbelief.
"Be quiet!" The President shouted, "Bill, what do you mean by 'start a war with God?'"
Bill looked down at his feet, "Why are we all here, in this room, right now? Why haven't we all just killed ourselves? For me, it's my family, sir. Sure, we all go to heaven, but there is no way to know if the rules are the same there. How do I know that I will still get that same rush of happiness when my daughter yells 'daddy' as I walk through the door at night. How do I know that I will get that warm, electric feeling whenever my wife gives me 'the look?' I don't, and neither do any of you."
The crowd's silence confirmed what Bill was already thinking.
"No one can be sure that life will be any better in heaven. We just know that it's there. So, for myself - and I'm speaking only for myself - I would rather create a false war with God in order to keep what I have here, for as long as I have it. God would understand. At least, I believe."
"So, you're saying," the President started, "That we create a fake war, with fake circumstances, and fake methods of an army?"
"Yes."
"And you believe that our intention will be enough to forgive us?"
"Yes."
"How can you be so sure, Bill?"
"The study confirmed that we will go to heaven, no matter what. We have carte-blanch here. We might as well use it to better our American lives, here and now? Isn't that the only responsible thing to do?"
| "Mr. President? Mr. President!" Not a word from the White House when we called, just that ubiquitous ringtone on every number. "Jesus Christ, Bradley, what the fuck are we going to do?" I said putting the phone down.
"Bradley?" I turned behind me to find the loaded barrel of a gun in my manager's mouth, and before I could even try to stop him, blood splattered against my suit as his lifeless body fell to the boarded floor.
It had been two months since Krishnakov discovered the afterlife, and just about 7 billion people have put an end to their pointless existences since. Rioting, looting, murder, it was sheer chaos here on Earth. They say religion's the cause of more death than anything else. Frightening how science makes things exponentially more efficient.
I decided to call it an early day, nobody was around to catch me leaving. Then again nobody was around to pay me either. The wheels of the armored hummer I stole from the garage a couple weeks ago bounced against the severed limbs of men, women, and children as I cruised down the street back home. Smoke filled the sky like death filled the Earth. Already sprouts and vines began reclaiming the city from us, we most selfish of creatures.
But all that was over now... for today atleast, "Honey! Kids! Daddy's home!" Rex came rushing to the door, barking like always. Unlocking the door, I found Rex curled in a ball, whimpering. I looked up and there was my wife, dangling from the ceiling. I was shouting frantically for my kids but when I went upstairs, I found Sasha in the tub with her wrists slit and James... Oh God, why James? Of all the ways to die... I fell to my knees and pulled my magnum from its holster.
It was true, heaven. I never believed in God, but here I was. The angels were singing a song so sweet, the view so innocent. St. Peter called me next, but before I even got the chance to ask anything he pulled a lever and I fell into the darkness. It was a furious flame that fanned the air, my skin was burning just from being here when a demon suddenly skewered me on a pike. He lifted me high over his head, and that's when I saw Obama being cut up into tiny pieces as his severed head screamed in agony. There was Bradley beside him. Then my heart sank, as the demons forced my sweet Sarah with strings like a puppet, duressing her to stab our children with a trident of molten gold. My daughter was begging for mercy as my son just screamed a garbled scream incomprehensibly.
Why God, why? But I knew the answer. | 2015-02-02T08:18:13 | 2015-02-02T06:37:02 | 103 | 20 |
[WP] You've been waking up in the same day over and over. After a year of this you tell someone. Their eyes just widen. "You too?" | I don't think it's possible to forget a moment like that. A moment where you find a tether - a lifeline - after months of aimless wandering.
"You, uh...you know how many times you've repeated?" We stood at the corner of 15th and Chestnut, eyebrows arched in nearly the same position.
He shrugged. "Lost track ages ago. Everything blends together. I've tried every escape method - stealing a car, killing myself, getting purposefully thrown in jail to see if that's considered 'repentance.'"
I blinked. "It's weird to find someone else who...gets it."
"Yeah."
A pause. The world continued to bustle around us, full of lucky bastards who weren't being tortured by some fluke of the cosmos.
He smirked. "You want to get plastered?"
"Hell yeah."
*
For weeks we were inseparable. It's shocking how much banality can be erased by a companion, even when you're both stuck in some bizarre existential hell. He showed me the tricks - every neighbor he picked on, every sentence he'd learned to predict, every crime he'd gotten away with. But one night at Charlie's Tavern he started to ramble.
"What if...what if you're the key to all of this, Kurt? Y'know?"
"How do you mean?"
"I've been at this awhile. Longer than you need to know. But I found something right underneath the bridge - smack in the middle - that I haven't shown another soul."
He pulled out his phone and opened a picture. It was a payphone, nondescript and just as beat-up as the few that remained in the city. But there seemed to be a note taped to the side. He zoomed in on it. "STUCK IN A RUT? CALL 832-8555."
"I've called it about fifty times. Always some distorted, alien voice asking for a password, but I can never guess it. I want you to try."
I finished my beer and slammed it on the counter. "Let's do it."
*
It was windy out that night. Seemed like a storm was on the horizon but it never came.
I dialed the number while he stood there. He winked at me and whispered: "Try anything."
I heard a click on the other end. "WHAT IS THE PASSWORD?"
I gulped, then gave a deep sigh. "You know what? I have no idea. So I'm just gonna vent, if that's OK. I've gotten to know this city better than I ever could have imagined over this past year. I know its streets and alleys, apartments and office buildings, great restaurants and shitty dive bars. But whatever twist of fate caused me to be stuck here robbed me of the ability to get to know anyone. A hard reset, every fucking day. That is, until Sam came along. Like the universe cutting me a break. I can't tell you how thankful I am for that."
The wind started to pick up. The voice on the other end cleared its throat and said: "PASS THE PHONE TO SAM."
I reluctantly did so. Sam put it to his ear. "You want me to give a speech now, too?"
Suddenly, the clouds above us parted. A great, gaping hole in the sky appeared - a portal to pure emptiness. The voice rang out again, this time booming out from above us: "ONLY ONE OF YOU MAY DEPART."
Sam took a few paces toward me. "I've got a secret to tell you, pal." He placed his hand on my shoulder. "I'm not going." I felt myself being lifted from the ground. "I've had no purpose here. But then you came along and gave me a chance."
I floated a few feet above him, clawing at the sidewalk, trying to grab him --
"Happy trails, Kurt." He gave me a two finger salute, and then I was whisked away.
*
It's still a bit strange to have a new day follow a finished one.
I've gotten used to it over time, but it seems unnatural somehow. Especially since I don't feel like I deserve it.
On days where the fatigue of the daily grind sets in, I think back to Sam. I wonder if he's still alone. I wonder if he has any new company in that strange, time-frozen limbo.
I wonder if he has another lifeline.
| "Wait, what?"
"Every single day, I've woken up and it's been the exact same thing. The same events occur over and over again. Everyday, I wake up at in my room next to my wife to the radio alarm that plays 93.3 FM and everyday it's that stupid 21 Pilots song, "Heathens." I used to like that song. In the beginning, I used to roll back over thinking it was Saturday and I had just turned my alarm on by habit. Then, in approximately forty-five minutes I get an angry call from my boss telling me I'm late for the I've woken up in the exact same time and place, no matter where I go to bed. I've tried everything. I've traveled across the world, went to bed in a hotel in Paris... I still woke up in my room back here in Charlotte. I've tried pulling an all-nighter, not sleeping for the entirety of the night. I made it to about six am before I crashed... I still woke up at 7:30 the day prior. It's a hellish endless loop that I worry I'll never get out of."
"And you've told no one?!?" I asked.
"Well, who the hell have you told?"
"I've tried telling plenty of people. They all forgot the very next day. It's no use."
"Then why do you care if I haven't told anybody?"
"I don't know. Maybe, you could've told me."
"You didn't tell me."
"I guess you're right." I replied.
I told him all about my failed attempts to break the cycle and we decided to go through the day. We both called in sick at work for the millionth time (never seem to run out of sick days). Missed the traffic jam on I-635. It took me weeks to find out the best route around that mess. We went to lunch at a diner that had the same chicken Parmesan special everyday for about twelve months now. I can't eat another bite of that damn thing. We spent the afternoon looking through the Macy's one day flash sale, but didn't buy anything knowing that anything we bought we couldn't keep. We got the McRib at the McDonald's drive-thru that I've had hundreds of times already. There's seriously a reason that they only have that thing for a limited time. We watched the beautiful sunset that was starting to get less beautiful each time I saw it. Then we parted ways and agreed to meet up again in the morning. I went to be for the night and eventually woke up.
I rolled over and heard: "ALL MY FRIENDS ARE HEATHENS TAKE IT SLOW" | 2017-07-15T08:25:25 | 2017-07-15T07:54:07 | 148 | 18 |
[WP] You are part of the league, the superheroes who save the world, yet you never go on missions. You are only called for one thing only. Total annihilation, for when they don't want survivors. | There was only one time he was ever caught on video. It was from the time the Crimson King troupe brought a gang army to take over New York City.
“Is it rolling, Dave?” Asked a man with a crimson bandana and a gleaming golden gun with red highlights in hand.
“Yes sir,” The cameraman answered, holding a thumbs up as he looked through the camera on his shoulder at the boss, who stood in the middle of an empty street in the heart of the city, “You’re live to ten thousand people and counting.”
“People of the world!” The man said, “Your savior has come! The Crimson King, prophesied to equalize all people, powers or no powers, under unrelenting justice. Look at all those who believe in me.”
The cameraman swiveled his camera to show the thousands of men crowding the wide street behind them, waving crimson flags, holding up AK-47s, and cheering madly.
The camera turned back to the boss. “If anybody wishes to challenge me, powers or not, you will be eliminated. It does not matter what power you have or how cowardly you use it, you will be eliminated!”
The people behind him roared.
“Now, let’s march to plant our flags in of the city hall and seize the resources in the banks on our way... ”
The cameraman frowned as the boss spoke. Someone else had come in front of the gang army standing alone on the street…
The boss saw the cameraman's confused face and turned around and saw the stranger walking towards them, “Who are you?” He called, “Do you wish to challenge the just rule of the Crimson King?”
The crowd quieted as the man silently walked forward until he was close enough to talk normally to the boss. The stranger had a black uniform on with the golden letters “Ultimate League, 13th Hero” stitched onto the front.
The boss laughed, “Are you joking my friend? The Ultimate League only has twelve heroes, and their uniform is white!” Then the boss scowled. “If you really want to save the city, why don’t you call me one of the real twelve heroes so I can properly demonstrate my powers?”
The man didn’t answer, all he did was pull out a cigarette and light it. The cameraman gaped in shock and the crowd stood in stunned silence as the thirteenth hero breathed out smoke.
“Are you insane?” The boss roared, “Who do you think you are? Stop wasting time or I’m going to skip the pleasantries and eliminate you here in front of the entire world.”
The gang roared in agreement.
The dark-uniformed man continued puffing his smoke until the crowd died down.
Then he finally spoke, “Wasting time, huh? And here I thought I was just giving you some time to say goodbye to this world.” He sighed and dropped the cigarette, crushing it underfoot. “Well, if we’re getting to the point then… ”
The hero looked up and his eyes glowed crimson.
“I just have one more thing to say,” The hero said, “You shouldn’t have desecrated my name for something like this, calling this blatant seizing of power something like equalizing the people under the Crimson King's rule of justice. You could have gotten another Ultimate League hero to stop you if you didn't make it personal.”
The boss snarled, the mirth was gone from his face as he saw the man’s crimson eyes and realized the hero actually had powers. Without any more pretense, the boss leveled his golden gun at the hero and fired.
The bullet hit the thirteenth hero in the chest. The man continued to look coldly at the boss as his veins swelled up. The hero exploded from the inside and his body flopped over in a puddle of blood.
“Taste my anti-power bullets!” The boss said triumphantly, “The more power you have in your blood the more it…”
The boss’s eyes widened in horror.
The hero's nearly unrecognizable body stood up. The pool of blood around the hero silently rose from the ground and flowed back into the holes of his body and his wounds closed. Even his League uniform reknitted to how it was.
The crowd was dead silent.
"What... what kind of power..." The boss whispered.
“Why are you so surprised? The real Crimson King's immortal, isn't he? Or did you not even know that?” The hero said.
The boss gaped, the true gravity of the situation finally dawning on him.
Then the hero raised his hand to the gang, “Allow me to show you what the Crimson King’s equalizing justice really is...”
"Blood flashfire. Radius: 500 meters."
He snapped his fingers.
Each and every person in the enormous crowd simultaneously burst into red flame. In a couple of bright, quiet seconds, everyone had already disintegrated into ash.
The thirteenth hero stood alone on the city street, the silent, dark ash blowing around him.
The camera kept filming him from where it was dropped on the ground.
“You see?” The hero said as he walked to the camera, “Equality. Everyone’s ashes look the same.”
He snapped again and the live stream blacked out.
___
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WanderWilder/comments/nljol8/the_thirteenth_hero_part_2/)
Thanks for reading! More at r/WanderWilder | Khan we need you... Said desperate Calypso.
Me, El Mayor, Thunderstrike and Kervan we... we could not do anything. They have thousands thousands of ships. Their fleet is ready to embark and conquer earth and we can’t stop them.
Khan stood up from the chair. Wearing his usual black drapes. His massive figure is on display. In ancient times they called him Atlas the Gods of old called him the pillar that holds the earth. A titan.
Khan leaves the ship with no word or thought.
He hates being the ender of worlds. He hates knowing that all the innocent people will have to die for their kinsmen’s irrationality and inability to prosper peacefully. Khan’s power is truly immense.
Khan swings his massive arm and opens a portal to his destination.
Reda as beautiful as ever. Reda was a beautiful planet with all types of imaginable vegetation and fauna. The native Redan’s are peaceful people who where conquered by the tyrannical Surenos... Khan was their leader. He conquered half the universe. When he came upon earth he saw that it was good. He stayed and vowed to protect it. So long that humans remain neutral in cosmic warefare. So long they do not do what he did.
War was coming to Earth and its starting point was Reda where all the forces of the surenos were stationed.
As Khan ingested the statuesque scenery he noticed a camp through the thick vegetation. As he approached he realised it was the Redan’s
I come in peace. I am here to save you. Though your planet will be ashes.
The Redan’s know Khan’s face after all you dont become the Khan of the universe and not be hated and recognised everywhere this side of the galaxy.
The Redan’s peaceful and smart knew that Khan was no longer a threat. He was a true king now. He did not lead by fear or power. He lead with inspiration.
Khan quickly opens a portal... Go. No time. They’re coming.
The last of the Redan’s, Khan maybe counted 50 in total. In his mind he thought A whole planet of people is left with only 50 natives because of my people because of what I indoctrinated into them. Fate is such... I began this and I shall end this.
Khan built up power in his massive powerful legs and jumped... Though it wasn’t a jump. He flew. He knew the highest peak in Reda is actually a nest. The natives called him Umburu. In eternal sleep the sky demon was entrapped in the mountain by Khan years before.
Khan flew straight into the mountain destroying it completely.
Demon. You are free. This planet is yours. You shall keep it preserved for when I return.
Instead of destroying the whole planet Khan decided to purify this world of evil. Demons are evil but fiercely protective of their habitat.
A deafening shriek and a flap of wings whuuump whuump and umburu was in the sky again. As soon as the demon was in the sky. Khan jumped again and flew well above the Demon. He wanted to see.
Umburu now nosediving straight for the fleet his eyes start to electrify !POOF! He sends a massive storm cloud that fired lightning with great power at every single ship. In minutes it was done. Thousands of oppressors killing thousands of innocents.
Am I any different now?
Am I still Khan the conqueror.
As the deed was done. The demon now taking his human form flies up to Khan.
Khan you freed me so I can kill your people?
I am no longer of that cloth. I do not crave to kill or conquer.
I want peace.
He falls into a portal back to his dwelling.
The pain Khan feels for the horror he has caused is immeasurable. He killed his entire race. He is the last. | 2021-05-26T04:36:03 | 2021-05-26T01:46:59 | 1,742 | 65 |
[WP] The world seems to be your average sword and sorcery world. You, a young adventurer have descended down into a forgotten tomb. There, you find strange metals and plastics. Lights come on without torches. A man made of metal awakens, stumbling toward you. "What year is it?" he asks | He knew the Tombs were off-limits. Many adventurers have been rumoured to descend into them, never to return. He didn't care. Young, brash, overly eager, he was willing to risk it all so he'd finally prove himself; so he'd earn the respect he desperately craved. When he finally stood before the colossal metal entrance, torch in hand, he felt only the slightest of hesitations before stepping in.
The tunnel behind the door was... odd. The walls and floors were perfectly uniform - not made of stone or wood, they seemed... metal - but to find so much metal in one place, not to mention work it so seamlessly, was... unheard of. He kept going forward, aided only by the flames of his torch, until the tunnel opened into a large room. He crept forward carefully, hand on the hilt of his sword, as if a wyvern could jump at him at any time - after all, perhaps that's where the previous adventurers went? Still, he progressed, inch by inch.
Until he tripped.
He quickly regained his balance but in doing so leaned against the wall, unwittingly hitting what felt like a button. Suddenly, the room became lit, blinding him.
When he finally managed to open his eyes and adjust to the sudden light, he found himself in a stupor. The lights were... white. Purely white, not yellow like flames. There weren't even any torches, only long, glass tubes. Looking around further, he realized he stood on the edge of a large room covered with metal tables, dark glass and... several human skeletons. Cold sweat ran down his forehead as he realized the Tomb was more than a scary name.
*Clink*.
He jumped as noise suddenly echoed through the room - the distinct sound of metal hitting metal. He turned and was met with a sight he could not have been prepared for.
A man was walking towards him. Or rather, *shuffling* towards him, clearly limping on his right leg. His skin was perfectly smooth, yet seemed... cold. Squinting his eyes, he realized it was not skin - it was metal, grey and dusty. He was missing an arm and his eyes glowed red yet seemingly without malicious intent. The adventurer fearfully lifted his sword towards the man.
"What year is it?" the man asked. His voice was unnatural. It sounded like several voices speaking at once without any emotion or intonation.
"W-what?" the adventurer spurted out.
"Year," the man of metal repeated. "What year is it?"
"It- it's... it's 966."
The metal man tilted his head. "What? No, no, that can't be right, that..."
He looked around as if he wasn't quite sure where he was, the red light in his eyes flickering. "How long was I offline..." he muttered.
"Who- what are you? A golem? A demon?" the adventurer asked.
"Series 7 android," the man responded casually as if the adventurer had any sense of what that meant.
"What does that mean? Is... is your skin made of *metal*?"
The man kept looking around the room. "Nano-plasteel polymer with titanium weave reinforcement," he stated. The adventurer decided not to bother to ask further - it didn't seem he would get any straight answers.
The man's eyes finally stopped flickering as he looked at a skeleton sitting on a nearby chair. He shuffled forward and placed his lone arm on the bones. Lights emerged from his head, symbols and letters simply floating in the air in front of him, showing various spirals and unknown words. *The creature must clearly be magical in nature*, the adventurer thought. *A golem*?
"Oh, Doctor Lakhani..." the man said solemnly. "I'm... sorry."
He turned back towards the adventurer.
"You. You said the year is 966. 966 years since what?"
"The Great Runic War of course," the adventurer answered, surprised by the golem's lack of knowledge. After a brief moment of silence, he decided to continue. "A battle between ancient kingdoms of impossible power, it is said. Great spells rained hellfire on the world, killing hundreds of thousands in blinding flashes of light. Places where the fireballs landed are still warm and saturated with raw, unstable mana, killing anyone foolish enough to approach."
"What..." the man whispered. "The nukes... they did it... they actually did it." The light in his eyes dimmed somewhat as he lowered his head, considering the situation. He then stepped towards the adventurer who once again raised his sword.
"Stop!" the adventurer cried out.
The metal man inspected the sword carefully and extended his hand, gripping it tightly. The adventurer tried to yank the sword back but found the man's grip impossibly firm. He could only watch as a swarm of black dust flew from the man's chest and towards the sword, enveloping it completely - mere seconds later, the swarm retreated and the sword's blade was gone completely.
He dropped the shaft in panic and watched in terror as the swarm flew towards the man's missing arm and further, forming a shape resembling the missing appendage. The swarm then simply... stopped moving and took on a more solid, regular form; the form of an arm, though it was considerably shinier than the rest of the man's dusty body.
The man moved his hand around several times as if testing it.
"This will have to do for now," he said and started walking towards the door; somehow, his limp disappeared altogether and he was now walking with flawless steadiness.
"Wait!" the adventurer yelled. The metal man turned and faced him.
"Where are you going? What- what are you going to do?" the adventurer asked. He worried the man could mean harm to his people; if he did, he could likely not stop him.
"I'll do what they would have wanted," the metal man said after a moment of consideration and nodded towards the skeletons. "I'll give you back what you have lost." He turned back towards the entrance to the tunnel and started walking.
"But I'll make sure you don't meet the same fate," he finished solemnly. | Somewhere between the moss-covered slate that hid the entrance to this place and the slightly sulphury scent coming from within, Maxim decided that he had found his treasure. No map with an x had led him here, nor was there a winding story of it from times long past. It spoke to him. Torchbugs at night appeared to call this little cavern home, and after a long weeks trek, Maxim did as well.
He didn’t sleep well here. Noises from the deep kept whispering of a formless fear that lay beyond the dark. Maxim wandered, but only when he had forgotten the path did he start marking his way with scratches and tallies etched with magic. It was really the only thing he seemed to be good at. Recording where he had been.
Without the sun, he forgot for a while what time it was. Descending deeper and deeper into the cave came without predators or prey, but the loneliness became deadly. There were no skeletons, and with only his magic around him, he wondered if he would end up just decoration for those that came next.
It wasn’t until he came to a metal ornate door that he gained a sense of dread. Even in the damp, stale air, the hopeful sense of wonder kept him going. Now, though? This wasn’t like the mage's towers or the king's doors. This was just a solid.
Until it wasn’t.
A screeching noise cut Maxim to the core as the ancient door slid open. Nails on the chalkboards at school could never compare to the eldritch noise that echoed off the cavern walls and hollow places in the deep.
Yet still, Maxim moved on. Lights came to life around him with more magic than he could ever possess, and with it, greed welled up from within him. He was close. He had to be close to what he was searching for.
Nothing could be seen in the metal room. Maxim looked over the small figures on the tables and the walls, but nothing seemed to detach. Gems and jewels that he once hoped for turned out just to be magic baubles. Flicking a couple, he heard something whirl but nothing seemed to catch.
“What year is it?” a voice came from the corner, making Maxim flinch and pull out his wand.
“Who?” Maxim asked.
“What year?”
“Year of the Path, the Twenty-Third,” Maxim explained hesitantly, “As per the Mages of Marifacrice reckon.”
“Are they here?”
“What?” Maxim asked, now confused as he tried to look around the empty shell of a room, “Who, I’m here?”
“The ones we released?”
“Uh?”
“Did we trap them?” a metal man yelled as he tried his best to lift himself to a sitting position.
“What are you?” Maxim asked in shock.
“Broken,” it scoffed and looked around, “So much is broken because of us. Because of what we released.”
“Who did you release?” Maxim asked quietly, wondering if they were still around.
“The spirits that came before,” the metal creature said as he pointed to the painting in the back. Maxim saw the gods, the lords of light and dark, etched in their glory but not in the way the land saw them now. “The spirits that were foretold to come again.”
“They keep the land, sea, and sky,” Maxim chanted softly looking over the painting.
“They destroy all that live in them,” the voice explained, “With the light came fire, with darkness came frost, and with them came death.”
“No,” Maxim muttered, “With them came redemption.”
“With you,” the voice said quietly, “will go how we got redeemed. Please, take my words to those that would listen. Please, take a message to those who will still understand.”
With that, the metal creature only gave Maxim one final word and a prize Maxim did not want. From his chest, the metal man took out a cube and tried to reach out toward Maxim but was only able to rest his arm on his leg before powering down one final time.
The lights did not fade with the machine, though, and Maxim, even with his belief, wanted something to come out of this more than just a story he could tell. The marks on the walls led him out, and in his pack, Maxim hoped he could sell this mystery to the highest-paying mage. | 2022-12-19T14:03:08 | 2022-12-19T13:10:11 | 236 | 25 |
[WP] You're the owner of a cafe frequently visited by vigilantes and anti-heroes who absolutely adore your sweetness and acceptance of who they are. One day, though, a particularly rude customer comes in and trashes the place. Your friends aren't too happy to hear about that. |
I knew he was trouble when he walked in.
He came in, head held up high, posture like someone had shoved a metal rod up his ass. Young, cocky, asshole. It was slow day, only a couple of people were around. None of the regulars. A guy working on his laptop, and another girl watching the snow fall over Union Square outside.
He walked over to the counter like he owned the place. He raised his voice. “You folk might want to leave,” he said. “This might get ugly.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. He must have a foot on me and his arms were as thick as my thighs. The two customers looked at me and I nodded. “Best to leave, yeah.” They hurried out. What were the odds either of them would call the cops? Next to none. They’d think the other person would.
“You want something?” I asked.
The man picked up a cup and threw it at the wall next to my head, probably intending to make me flinch. I caught it as it flew by my head and set it back down. The PTSD and emotional trauma did come with some upsides.
“So you’re Elizabeth, I take?” eyes narrowed.
I went with the classic response. “Depends on who’s asking.”
He sneered. “Nobody’s asking, *sweetheart,*” he said. “We’ve been keeping track of what kind of clientele you serve. The rotten. The wannabes. The worst of the worst.”
“Strange,” I mused. “None of them have ever threatened me in my own workplace. Truly, nothing screams paragon of virtue like trying to intimidate women.”
He walked over to a table, picked it up with one hand and threw it against the wall. The table shattered and left a dent in the wall. He picked up a metal chair and, looking me in the eyes, bent it in half.
I rolled my eyes. “You realize you’re paying for that, right?”
He laughed and continued to wreck the place. Tables, chairs, vases, whatever he could find his hands on, grinning all the time. This was just pathetic, this is what the League had resorted to? Petty intimidation? And it could only be the League with their idiotic ideals of heroism. The government weren’t a bunch of thugs, and anyone else wouldn’t have bothered with the intimidation, they would’ve tried to kill me. Honestly, I would have preferred that. That was honest. This though…
“Are you done?” I asked as he sauntered back over to me.
“For now I am,” he said, again with that grin showing impeccable teeth. I was tempted to punch him…but no. I was out. I didn’t interfere anymore. It wasn’t worth it. “Now listen here, no more serving your “regulars,” yeah? Tell them someone, ah, tipped you off to what they really are. And that you don't serve their kind."
“They don’t trash the place, and tip well. They seem like better customers than you are.”
He leaned closer, looking me dead in the eyes. “Now, the League is protecting all of you from…maniacs like them, maybe you should be a little grateful.” He straightened. “You know, it might get some people thinking, why would any self-respecting citizen serve people like them. Might give the League the wrong idea...”
A handful of people sauntered into the shop snow on their shoulders. “I heard you were having trouble, Liz,” the man in the lead, Jon, said. Behind him, there was Rory, her red hair falling out of her fur hood and Michel, his dark skin a sharp contrast to the winter wonderland outside.
“Oh, speak of the devil,” the Leaguer said and *smiled.*” Actually smiled. He couldn’t see the tension in the air. I could feel it. Didn't realize how screwed he was.
“Jon, Rory, Mike,” I said, nodding to each of them. “What brings you here.”
“Heard a bull was running around in your shop, Liz,” Jon said, his eyes locked on the intruder. “Thought you could use some help getting it out.”
“Look, don’t worry about it,” I said, asshole or not the guy looked in his 20s. “He’s just a kid, let him go.”
He swiveled towards me, eyes ablaze. I mentally chastised myself. I hadn't thought before speaking. Forgot how sentimental these young heroes were.
“A kid? Listen bitch,” he spat, “I’ll show you how much of a kid I really am.” I saw the punch coming a mile away – really those idiots with super strength were always slow for some reason, and moved to the side, but I needn’t have bothered. The kid flew back and hit the wall with a wet sounding thud and a crack. One second he was in front of the counter reaching for me, the next he was against the wall, a red stain on the wall, his neck at an unnatural angle.
I put my head in my hands. “Jesus fucking Christ, Jon,” I snarled.
Jon frowned at me, moving his hand back down – he didn’t actually need to move his hand to use telekinesis – he just liked to show off. “He was going to hit you, Liz.”
“Seriously? You think that idiot could have even *touched* me?”
“I don’t know, Liz,” Rory spoke, laughing, “You’ve been out for a long time…”
I glared at her. “Now the league will investigate, things will only go downhill.”
Jon’s voice was laced with steel. “The League won’t fucking dare.”
I knew that tone of voice. “Jon no…”
But he was already turning away. “C’mon Rory, Mike. Let’s have a chat with the local League office.”
I surveyed the broken tables, the body, the blood. "Leaving the adult to clean up the mess..." I muttered uncharitably and went in the back to get the bleach.
***
Due to demand, I present
[Part 2: Blood on the Snow](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/comments/9q1h8u/urban_fantasy_blood_on_the_snow_out_of_retirement/?)
If you enjoyed, check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| Red Molly contacted me first. “Hey I think you need to get down here. Right now.” When you get a psychic message like that, well, you kinda have to listen.
Windows smashed. Tables broken, even my counter, made from the wood of the witness stand from the Salem trials, was badly damaged. My favorite coffee mug, given to me by the Star Sorcerer himself, was broken. Damn.
By then, a lot of the regulars had shown up. Dark Hood stood silently, but you could feel the anger radiating from him. Father Black tried to console me, as best he could. Street Shadow was trying to pick up the pieces of the crystal ball I kept near the register. The scrying table seemed beyond repair.
Most of my regulars are low-level. None of them could do tremendous feats of magic like stopping time, or seeing years into the future, or transmuting matter. But they did what they could, you know? If you could keep a kid from breaking his arm because you can only see 30 minutes into the future for one person at a time, wouldn’t you do it? If your only power, speaking to the dead, could help one person resolve their grief and move to a better life (or afterlife), you’d do that too. If you were cursed to only move from shadow to shadow, well, maybe you’d use that to rescue people, and get them to a hospital faster than an ambulance could dream of moving.
And, of course, mystic power is stronger at night. Some of these folks only have power during a certain phase of the moon. And efforts like this, helping other people you don’t know, take their toll. So when sunrise is coming, a lot of them head to the Grave Sight. It’s darker than your average Denny’s, and it’s off an alley, not near a mall. You have to know where to look, but we have the best breakfast and coffee in the area. Plus the scrying table, crystals and other stuff are free for everyone to use. Father Black keeps the Holy Water blessed, it’s in the back room if you need some.
So they all came by and offered their help. I told them it would be a few days before I was back up and running. And since a mortal adjuster was unlikely to find the place, I never bought insurance, of course. I guess my wards weren’t strong enough.
I saw them look at each other, but no one said anything. The walked in amongst the debris, and stood in a circle. They joined hands, and I felt the power surge. Yes, even I can feel power like that. A dark mist gathered around them. There was a low rumble mixed with chanting, and the power dissipated.
Molly turned. Her eyes were red with anger. “We’ll be back.” was all she said, and they left.
It wasn’t like I was going anywhere. I mostly only move between my place, the church, and the cemetery. So I started cleaning up.
About an hour later, at midnight, they came back, with some members of the Evangelist gang. I’d seen them before, mostly on the news. “Magic is an abomination!” and “Mystics are going to Hell!” and other ridiculous protest signs, when the more powerful mystics solved a crime or prevented a disaster. Little did they know, some of us have been to Hell already. It’s debatable whether an eternity there or an hour with these wackos is worse. No screaming or waving signs here, though. They looked...different, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
Father Black stepped forward. “These are the people responsible for the damage. They have agreed to repair everything.”
“Agreed?” I said dubiously. I couldn’t see these guys helping something like me voluntarily.
Red Molly spoke without speaking. “We talked to Old Granny. She agreed to hold their souls in escrow until the damage is repaired. When you’re satisfied, they get them back.”
Old Granny: the only real witch in Salem in the 1600s, and of course the only one to avoid those idiots running the Trials. Now I saw the difference. Fear. Fear of losing the only thing that mattered, their souls. To the will of an “abomination.”
I turned to them. I didn’t think they could be more afraid, but you’d be surprised how scary a ghost can be, when I put my mind to it. “Welcome to the Grave Sight, ladies and gentlemen. I guess we’d better get to work. I have to be back to the cemetery before sunup.” | 2022-11-10T02:01:25 | 2018-10-20T23:34:54 | 1,330 | 11 |
[WP] In future an alien civilization selectively breeds humans just like we did with wolves to get dogs.
Example of narrating character: A person from our time who travels to future and sees humans behaving differently. | I watched from my perch atop the power pylon, the display in my Longsight goggles allowing me to view the activity below as closely as if I were five feet above the ground, rather than fifty. My camouflage cloak rippled a little in the wind, the material flickering a little as it projected an image of the sky onto itself, hiding me from all but the closest of inspections.
Down below, a large open space was visible between the buildings. It was ringed by a ten foot high force-field fence. I scanned the occupants of the compound within with interest.
They were truly magnificent to look at. Every one was perfectly proportioned, averaging between five and a half to just under six feet tall. Their hair was glossy and well-kept. Their naked skin was unmarked and hairless, apart from the facial hair of the males. Even their teeth were perfectly straight and white.
Hitler's eugenics programme had nothing on this, I thought.
The aliens had come several centuries ago, by the looks of things. Their advanced technology and society had easily steamrolled mankind's civilisation, forcing humans a notch further down the hierarchy. They had been culled down to a fraction of their population, then carefully coralled and selectively bred by their new masters.
Defective genes had been rooted out over the centuries, giving humans better health, more attractive bodies, and improved lifespans. They were now in better condition than they had ever been. But there was a downside. As the breeding weeded out all but the best physical characteristics, the flaws turned inwards, finding a home in the minds of mankind.
As a result, humans had been reduced to little more than beautiful animals. They were only a few points higher up the IQ scale than chimpanzees now. I watched them wander around inside their compound, naked, unaware of their situation. It was saddening, really.
I suddenly leaped forward, my cloak billowing out behind me as I twisted my body into a graceful swan dive off the pylon. Halfway down, the anti-gravity thrusters on my TimeWarp backpack activated, slowing my descent with a low hum. I hovered there silently, watching the humans below from my new vantage point.
There were some aliens wandering around the perimeter of the compound, looking upon the occupants with interest. They were grey-skinned humanoids, around eight feet tall with large blue-black eyes. I lowered myself slowly into the compound, invisible to the watching keepers thanks to my cloak.
I dropped to the ground silently on my fingers and toes. The surrounding humans paid me no attention either. They merely sat there, grooming themselves or curling up in foetal positions. I stood up carefully, trying not to collide with anyone as I began to creep across the compound, scanning the occupants.
My gaze finally alighted on my target. She was a young woman, about twenty years old or so, sitting in the centre of the compound. Her mane of curly brown hair reached down to the small of her back like a cloak, covering most of her slim frame. I crouched down beside her and took a small device from my belt. I held it up to the back of her head, millimetres from actually touching her, and clicked the button.
She jumped ever so slightly as the device's rays surged into her brain, reopening synapses, firing neurons, bringing back entire disused parts of her mind. I saw her green eyes suddenly light up a little as her mind rose back up the IQ scale. Suddenly she gasped quietly and looked around.
I put my hand on her shoulder. 'Don't move,' I said quietly. 'I'm invisible, so you can't see me, but I'm here to help.'
She didn't look around, thankfully, but nodded almost imperceptibly. I looked over her head. A group of aliens were following one of the keepers into the compound. They began to wander directly towards us. I had seconds at most.
'Listen, whatever you do, don't act as though you're intelligent,' I said quickly. 'They'll kill you if you do. I'll be following you, but for now you're on your own. Okay?'
She nodded again, watching the approaching aliens. They were only a few metres away now. 'Who are you?' she said out of the corner of her mouth.
I smiled behind my visor. 'I'm you.' | Dorak sat on his front porch. He stretched his upper arms while his lowers arms scratched his stomach. His Human, Derek, sat next to him in a smaller version of the chair Dorak sat on.
“Looks like this will be a good morning for some Natoball,” said Dorak.
Derek laughed and bounced up and down in his chair. “You bet, sir. I love Natoball. Do you think I can play?”
Dorak smiled and looked at his Human. It didn’t seem like Derek was already twenty-three. Dorak had gotten him as just a baby. It’d been tough house training him but ever since then Derek had been the most faithful of Humans. “Not today, Derek. Maybe we’ll go to the park afterwards and you can run.”
“Oh boy. Oh boy Oh –“ Derek stood up. His eyes narrowed as his gaze went down the front lawn. He bared his teeth in a quiet snarl.
Dorak followed Derek’s gaze to the slim Voran coming up the front walk. The Voran had a lumbering, muscle bound Human walking behind him. “Hey, Dorak,” said the Voran as he waved.
“Hi, Singler,” said Dorak. He’d never really liked Singler. The guy always seemed so jumpy. Dorak motioned to the Human. “What have you got there?”
Derek slowly started to move across the porch to get behind Dorak. “I don’t like him,” said Derek. He cowered behind Dorak’s chair.
Singler patted his Human on the arm. “This is Bruiser. He’s my protection.”
Dorak scratched his head and gave Derek some reassuring scratches on the back. “What do you need a beast like that for?”
Bruiser’s head darted around to follow anything that moved. He huffed and puffed. Dorak thought he looked like a coiled spring ready to expand. “I don’t like them,” growled Bruiser.
Singler patted Bruiser on the back. “Don’t worry. They’re harmless.” Singler turned back to Dorak. “Bruiser wasn’t cheap. He comes from a long line of champion personal protection.”
“But what do you need him for?”
Singler stuck his nose up in the air and hmphed. “You just don’t know how dangerous the world really is.”
I watched as Singler left with his Human. Derek crept out from behind my chair. Humans like Bruiser were not something to take lightly. I hoped the little Voran knew what he was doing.
| 2015-03-15T10:13:23 | 2015-03-15T09:08:36 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] You can see the coolest stats of things that you touch, and today when you lean against the wall of your house instead of the usual “Contains 4 dogs” you see “People killed here: 327” | I gapped. 327? I went to my study and got out my notes.
Six months. Yes, that was right; but 327? I’d have to investigate. By my counts I had killed 415.
Now, I’m sure you’ll think I’m lying, or that the police would be after me. But it is my job. They send them to me you see. The people come, I kill them and the people in the trucks come take away the bodies. I started six months ago.
I had been keeping detailed records. Name, gender, occupation, method of death. The usual. That number yesterday had been 415! I touched the wall again and saw People killed here: 325.
Wait? What? It was going DOWN!
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Restful Solutions. It was my boss. ‘Yeah?’
Jamie spoke in a clear crisp voice. ‘Shawn, we have a problem.’
I breathed in. No one knows about my talent to see statistics. I didn’t want to let on that anything was wrong on my end. ‘Oh? What’s going on?’
‘It’s your visitors, you’re not doing your job.’
I fucking was! Those people were DEAD! ‘What do you mean? Are my numbers not satisfactory?’
‘No, they’re not resting anymore.’
‘I don’t understand...’
Jamie was loosing patience ‘What do you not understand? The people we sent to you are walking around! That’s the fucking problem. We pay you to help people find a solution. A *specific* solution, and now they are starting to complain. I had several call today and ask for refunds, and compensation!’
I was confused. I put my hand on the wall: 323. ‘How do you know it was them? I mean, it could have been someone else, like a scam.’
Jamie sighed ‘No, they’ve started coming in person. We have verified their identities and they are healthy, animated and very pissed off.’
‘Well this is hardly my fault. I did my job. I put those people to rest. Theo and Bonnie pick them up once they are ... resting. Maybe you should talk to whoever takes care of them after me.’
The doorbell rang. I told Jamie I had to go. I looked out the peephole, an older lady and a young boy were standing outside. I opened the door.
‘Hello, my name is Shawn.’
‘Hello Shawn, I am Hazel, and this is my friend, Clyde.’
I motioned for them to come in and sit in the living room. I touched the wall: 321.
As we sat Hazel extended an envelope for me. ‘You’ll see everything is in order, this is my receipt and our contact signed and notarized.’
I put on my glasses and read over the documents. I nodded.
‘I need some information. Your full names, genders, occupation and preferred method of rest.’ I handed over a guest book.
Hazel took the book and filled out the two lines for them both. I looked at the records. ‘Have you been here long?’
‘Yes, I’m just ready to rest.’ Hazel smiled a little.
I looked at Clyde. He hadn’t said anything. ‘And you?’
‘I don’t like it here. I get teased a lot. Not by Hazel, she’s nice to me. I want to stay with her.’
‘All right then.’ It wasn’t my job to judge, or convince. Just kill.
I looked at the preferred methods: hanging. Not exciting, but easy to clean up. I pulled down two nooses from the beam on my living room ceiling, and put two stools under them. I gestured for them to climb up. I adjusted the ropes and asked if they were ready. Clyde took Hazel’s hand and they nodded.
I kicked the stools out. They fell and jerked for a while. Then stopped. I went to make a note in my book.
‘Well, I thought that would be it, I have to say I’m dissatisfied!’
I screamed and spun around. Hazel was looking at me with disappointment. Clyde was glaring at me as he swung back and forth.
‘Yo-you- you’re supposed to be dead!’ I stuttered.
‘Well, I’m not. You’ll have to try harder I suppose.’
I apologized and got my syringe and a cocktail of barbiturates and anesthetics and other things. It was designed to do the job quick. I put a double dose in and injected it into Hazel’s vein. Her eyes closed. I did the same for Clyde. I went to the work of taking them down from the ropes.
As I was setting her on the ground Hazel jerked and sat up.
‘Young lady, I must say I’m very upset. I payed to be put to rest, but you don’t seem to be able to do your job!’
Clyde opened his eyes and glared at me again.
I touched the wall: 315
‘I do apologize, let me call the office and see if there is anything more we can do for you. Please wait here.’
I went to my office and shut the door. I dialed Jamie.
‘Shawn, I trust you are calling with good news?’
‘No! I just hung and poisoned two people and they’re still alive!’
‘You mean they’re not resting?’
‘No, they’re not DEAD. I tried, I killed them twice!’
‘Try something more.. permanent.’
‘Fuck you Jaime, hanging is usually pretty god damn permanent!’
Jamie sighed ‘don’t swear at me. Just get it done.’
I went back to the living room. Hazel and Clyde were sitting on the couch.
‘Alright, I have permission to try something more permanent, but it might be unpleasant.’
As I went to the closet I brushed the wall: 312
I pulled out my guillotine and a tarp. As I set up Clyde and Hazel watched me with mild interest.
‘Ok, who wants to be first?’ Clyde stood up, walked over and knelt in front of the contraption. He looked me in the eye ‘I don’t want to wake up again, you understand?’
I nodded and dropped the blade. His body shook and blood splattered Hazel’s face. I moved his body and head to one side. I pulled the blade up again. ‘Ok, your turn.’ She came over, knelt and bent over.
I dropped the blade again. I sighed and waited. Nothing happened. I texted Bonnie and Theo.
I went over to the wall: 314 | Huh, what?!, as i rubbed my eyes and made sure i wasnt just seeing things. No. I wasn't seeing things. It said "people killed here : 327"
Now im panicking. Why? I didnt do anything wrong. Did i?. No. I didnt. Why am i questioning myself?
As i walked into my house, everything seemed normal. Although, few items were misplaced. But thats about it. I checked the time. 3:13 am. I guess i went a bit too hard on the pre drinks. Thats ok.
The sun woke me up. Damn, that is bright. Im still tired. But thank god for sundays. Where the regret of saturday nightout kicks in. Where the moods gradually progresses towards anxiety, as the clock ticks towards Monday.
As i got off the bed, got into the morning routines, more like noon roitines now, its 12:34 pm. I realised that my hangover was cured.
I decided to go for a walk, bit unusual for me, but aye, everything has got a start doesnt it?.
Although everything appeared normal, there was a gut feeling that said everything was wrong. And told me to get out. As always i tried to ignore, but it kept creeping up on me.
The way people saw me reacted a bit odd. Slightly frightened, and alarmed. I didnt think much of it.
Though, the neighborhood was a whole lot quieter than a normal sunday though. It was as if people were missing. And not a few, but tonnes of them. Just missing.
As i was walking i remembered something from last night. How the house said something about kill.
I told myself ill go check it out a bit later.
####This is progressing towards a bit si-fi action stuff. If a few people wants to hear more, ill finish it. At somepoint today ish.###
As i finished my walk, i come to realise, that there must be some sort of festival or something going on. Like, where on earth would all these people would go to, like in a day? But the fact that i didnt know surprises me.
Either way as i got home i touched the house again, hoping to see the 4 dogs live here "fact" i didnt, i saw the 327 were murdered here.
Speaking of which, who was looking after the dogs, didnt i arrange a dog carer, where are my doggos?!
As i looked at my contacts in my phone trying to remember who i gave the doggos to, i realised something was odd.
There were no bowls, no signs of any pets, not even a tiny hair. Wtf?
Ok, this is not right. Who or what happened to my pets, come on man, what the hell?
Has my room always been gray? I swear it was a creamy colour. Wtf man, wtf. This is so not cool. Im now panicking.
As i attempted to relax, i found out that it wasnt just few things misplaced, but the entire place was arranged differently from the normal. But, similar enough to go unnoticed.
I heared a siren closing in, cops, in this neighbourhood, thats a bit odd i thought. I got out, to see what was happeining, and the cop car just pulled over out side of my house. Or, not my house?!
Anyways, as i walked towards the sheriff, i found out that it wasnt just the sheriff, there were more cars, suvs, vans, full of special forces?! Ok.
Stop. Stop. Stop. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON?!!!!!
I was shot with something that looked so alien to me. I thought i died. I mean, i got shot in the head!.
Wait. Why do i remember it?! Why can i think? Can souls think?
No. Im not dead.
Im not dead.
IM NOT DEAD?!
HOW?
Why cant i move? Im stuck, i cant move, i cant feel. But i can speak? Hear? Listen? Think?!
I surrounded by atleats 15 people, who looks very serious and has got some cool black suits on.
A voice so loud woke me up from my thoughts.
"Araan kliyye, care to explain how you got out of your CDC? "
What is a CDC? What is going on? I asked myself.
###### i will finish it at somepoint in time. Wont be too far tho, just show some support if you want me to finish. Appreciate it.
PS- id like to know where you guys think this is headed to. Would be great to know all of your ideas and views. I promise not to change the ending. #######
| 2017-12-17T18:24:15 | 2017-12-17T15:53:02 | 96 | 53 |
[WP] Once a year you switch bodies with a random person who is best in the world at a certain skill. You can't change back until you discover what this skill is. You've been changed for a month and are starting to get worried. | I sat behind the curtain. The guy on the other side was clearly keeping the crowd entertained. Every joke he dolled out landed with perfect timing. Could I really do any better?
Then again, was it really a question of whether *I* could do better?
It felt like I'd tried everything at this point. Various board games? Nope. A sport, perhaps? The local college's intramural teams taught me the hard way that that wasn't the case. And I'd exhausted pretty much every option that I could test on my own.
I ran out of ideas a week ago, yet somehow there were always new things to try. And in a minute I was going to try one more thing that hadn't occurred to me before.
"Thank you, have a great night, L.A.!" I heard from the other side. The crowd erupted, and I heard him walk off-stage. Okay, my turn now.
I ran my fingers through my hair and walked around the far side of the curtain. The host asked the crowd to please give me a warm welcome, and they did. Then I was in front of the microphone, and all eyes in the comedy club were on me.
I gave the standard comedian introduction. "Hey, L.A., how we doing tonight?" They replied with the standard audience response: a mix of "woo" and clapping. I never really understood what that meant.
"Listen, I don't expect you guys to shower me with any praise tonight. I mean, this is Southern California—I think the last time you guys had a shower was during the Bush administration."
Nothing. No one laughed.
"Bush *Senior*" I clarified.
Silence. OH NO. They thought I meant *taking* a shower. I had meant rain. Shoot. *Shoot.* Okay, I could pretty safely assume this person isn't the best comedian at this point. Although... what if this was just the setup? Couldn't the best comedian actually come *back* from such a terrible start? Worth a shot.
"I see the new Mac OS has come out, and they're continuing the convention of naming things after California landmarks. Sierra, Yosemite, etc., right?"
I brought out a note card. "Well, in case anyone here is from Apple, I brought a list of suggestions for the name of the next Mac OS based on other well-known California landmarks."
I cleared my throat. "Mac OS tar pits." Silence. "Mac OS depleted aquifer." Nothing. "Mac OS Zodiac killer." Maybe a chuckle in the back, but it also might have been someone coughing.
Then I saw a shadow—couldn't see more because of the lights. But I heard a thud beside me. I looked over to see half of a hamburger.
Someone threw a hamburger at me.
I continued reading. "Mac OS dusty field where a reservoir used to be."
Audible booing now. "Get off the stage!" Someone down front yelled.
"Mac OS overpriced San Francisco apartment."
Then it happened. Something I only saw the shadow of caught my eye. Before I knew what was happening, my hand reached up and snatched something right out of the air.
I turned it over and looked at it. A bag of Sun Chips.
Another shadow—I dropped that bag and immediately caught another bag. This one was open, but I spilled nary a chip.
I heard a few impressed sounds from the audience, but more stuff was incoming. Most of it hit me—celery, fries, pickles, more hamburgers—but every time a bag of chips was thrown, it was soundly in my grasp before I even thought to respond.
"What the..." I said to myself. "Is my skill to be able to catch bags of chips better than anyone in the w—"
WOOSH.
I was laying in my bed, staring at the ceiling. My hand was stretched out in the same position, but now nothing was there. I sighed.
I sat up and looked to my left. On my dresser was a clock, and next to it was something that looked like a clock. I grabbed it and held it up. On its face read, "364:23:59:32."
I set it back down. *I made it.* | Well, this is awkward. I'm used to getting into a body, noticing that one thing they are passionate about, and racing back to my own body. These things are kept track of, you know. If people's skills weren't tracked, the world would just be chaos. People would choose their own jobs willy nilly, without thought to what they do the absolute best. This time however, I just can't place my finger on it.
The first day I was in Irene, I thought she was best at singing. Her voice lifted with ease and clarity, and lured people closer as if she were a Siren of old. But, mentally adding that as her skill of note did not transfer me back to my own body.
The second day she danced. Irene never stumbled or missed a step, kept the coreography pictured perfectly in her mind.
I've been here a month now, and each day she displays some other skill I hadn't thought of, some other skill to mark down that will never get me out of her. Puzzles, carving, pottery, speed-reading, even killing video game bosses in record time. Today marks the 31st day of my attempt to figure out Irene's absolute best skill. I am starting to think that I need to just say that she is skilled at everything she tries, but that doesn't sit well with me. I've always had a great insight into what people are good at.
Irene wakes, batting away the covers. She shuffles to the fridge, a bit unkempt. This is out of her norm so far. Every day she has been done up, always presentable to the societal expectation of what a standard man wants. Currently, however, her hair is sticking up all sorts of ways from sleeping. The pixie cut looking more like a manic pixie than a fairy tale. She grabs a drink and a few snacks. Irene makes her way back to the bed, still sluggish. She turns on the TV that is positioned at the end and flips the channel until the one she is looking for comes on.
Game shows and women-oriented drama shows take up the remainder of the day. Is this what she is good at? Relaxing for a day, once a month? I try noting that down, and slowly feel the haze of the transfer start to pull me in.
(AN: First time poster, please be gentle) | 2016-09-26T08:26:06 | 2016-09-26T08:19:04 | 30 | 13 |
[WP] You've just been kidnapped by a supervillain. She's not really evil; she's just really socially awkward and had no idea how to approach you otherwise. She even made you dinner! | I am known as Mind Master. My power is telekinesis \[which I can also use to make myself fly\]. After defeating my main villain, Dr. Psychon, I was ready to rest and stop the occasional bandit. But that evening was nothing like that at all.
I followed a distress call next to the town park. The next thing I knew I was knocked out and woke up tied to a chair with a sack on my head. "Let me go!" I demanded. I Lifted the sack off my head with my mind, and I'm seated at someone's dinner table.
Sitting across from me was a woman. An ordinary woman in normal clothes with no mask. "Sorry," she blushed, "This may look bad, but I'm really awkward about things like this and I was too nervous to ask you over." She walked over and untied me.
"My name is Dana by the way" I shook her hand "I know" I respond. "Wait how do you know?" Dana wondered, almost smiling. "Oh uh, I'm- I mean I know a guy named James Banks. He knows you."
"I was gonna make you an invitation," Dana continues, "But I didn't even know where you live or how else to reach you. Please stay and have dinner with me." She waited for an answer.
I took my fork and started eating. "You're lucky I put up with this kind of thing every day with Dr. Psychon. I'm relieved you aren't a new major villain or something." Dana looked relieved as well and took a bite of food.
"I've kinda had a thing for you for quite a while" Dana admitted. I was about to say 'What else is new?' but I didn't want to seem too full of myself. I just looked up and gave an intrigued look.
"But what about James Banks? He said you admitted to liking me-I mean him a while ago." I asked. Dana set down her fork and smirked. She then stood up and walked over to me, taking off my mask.
"Hey!" I yelled, trying to hide my face. "You don't have to hide, James. I know who you are." Dana said. I was considering whether to lie or just let my arms down, when she added, "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."
I smiled and let my full face be shown. "How long have you known?" "Almost right away tbh." Dana admitted. "Being that I've had a crush on you, James, I recognized you in that costume almost instantly." I smiled and kept eating.
After dinner, I got up to leave. "Wait!" Dana grabbed my arm. "You never said what you thought about me. Not even before you got your powers!" I turned toward her and smiled. "Even though you kidnapped me just to have dinner, I think you know the answer. See you at our second date!" I winked and flew away. | She stood there, patiently waiting, watching to see what I did next. She had some very nice dishes laid out with steak, baked potato, assorted vegetables and some pears and mangoes. She looked kinda nervous. The food smelled wonderful. I cut up some steak and took a bite, It was some of the *best* food I had ever tasted. I looked up at her and she looked like she was expecting me to say I didn't like it and leave. "The food's b-bad isn't it." She said looking, disappointed, as if she'd heard it a lot. "No it's really good, I like it." I quickly replied. She looked up in disbelief, and I could see tears forming in her eyes. She had obviously never heard someone be this nice to her.
A few weeks later me and Sylvie were walking through the park. The birds chirping around us, the sun shining, children running around, flowers blooming. It turns out we had a lot in common, she helped me get a job and I helped her make some new friends. got to the middle of the park when I got down on one knee... | 2021-10-21T12:25:33 | 2021-10-21T12:15:59 | 67 | 31 |
[WP] You are part of the league, the superheroes who save the world, yet you never go on missions. You are only called for one thing only. Total annihilation, for when they don't want survivors. | They act nice to me. Give me whatever I want, whenever I want. All but what I truly want, no one can grant my wish. But that just comes with the property.
What am I? A god? Am I death, destruction, the ending, a black hole... none of these describe me. I’ve grown bored of trying to find out. Bored of out my mind. Alone. Always alone. Silence is my sound, silence is peace. At least, that’s what I thought. But Will... Will changed that.
Will wasn’t like the others, he didn’t fake a smile. His wonder wasn’t mixed with horror, no... it never was.
You see, I used to be normal. I was born into a wealthy family. My dad was a Super, but he used his powers for his own gain. He was constantly gone, only stopping at home once in a while. My brothers did the same. That’s what saved them. Being gone.
Supers get their powers from ages 15 though 18. Nothing less. Nothing more. That’s what i thought, what they world thought, what everyone knew. When I didn’t get them, I was sad. Happy that I could be normal, but sad that I didn’t fit in with the rest of my family.
My brothers all got powers. Tom could copy the powers of others and Tyler was a shapeshifter. My dad... well, you could call him a siren.
I thought for sure I’d get powers, but 18 came and past. No powers. I accepted it. Went to college, got a job, got married. We wanted two kids, a house with a yard, maybe a dog or two. She loved animals. We met on campus, she was crying over a cat that got ran over. It wasn’t her tears, it wasn’t how pretty she looked, it was the sincerity in her eyes. The grief in her soul that shook my core.
We were staying at my dad’s house for our honeymoon, I went inside to get some drinks. On the way out, she spotted me and started making silly faces. I laughed. She disappeared.
The house disappeared. The neighborhood disappeared. No... not disappeared, destroyed. In an instant. A moment. Gone in silence. Silent.
I was too shocked to do anything. Too shocked to react. At least I did one thing right, stayed quiet.
They came for me. For whatever monster that wreaked this havoc. They found me, crying, silent. Tried to get me to speak, but I didn’t, I wouldn’t. I was 27.
Eventually, I told them. Not verbally, but mentally. Another curse I was given. To see into ones mind, to manipulate it, to speak into it, to crush it.
Their gasps of horror were loud. Too loud. The sound rings in my ears. I can’t think. They’re too loud. They yell, but not out loud. My head hurt, it was too much. I wanted silence. Quiet.
So they gave it to me. And there I was. In the silence. The quiet. Silent.
But then I met Will. He found my powers beautiful, but he didn’t treat me like I was dangerous. Like I couldn’t end his existence with a whisper. To him, I was a regular person who didn’t speak, at least, that’s how he treated me.
Then he made me snort with some corny joke and I blew off his arm. Was I horrified, absolutely. Did I try to help? I did, at first. But before I could do anything, it started to grow back. Not like a plant. But like decay in reverse. Now that, that was horrifying and I ended up getting sick all over the floor. Silently, though.
He also fixed the building i blew a hole through. No one but him was hurt. He told me that they left the building when he visited. Just in case.
His power is rebuilding things on an atomic level. They go back to exactly the way it was before. Even people. But only before they die, otherwise it’s just a dead body in perfect health.
He was with me when they came for me the second time. It had been years. I lost count. The ones that came, were not the ones that put me here. Strange. They certainly weren’t silent, the rude shit heads.
“Sound! Sound, we need you!” A man with a brightly colored suit said, recklessly entering my silence.
“Stop right there!” Will snapped, holding his hand up. He tucked an arm around me, drawing me close. “You cannot enter this room, his presence will kill you!”
The man blanched, quickly retracing his steps.
Will shook his head. “Idiots, all of them. You’d think they read the instructions.”
*Instructions?*
“On how to interact with you. Not anyone can do what I can. Your presence in of itself, is deadly. I am rebuilding myself constantly, but don’t worry, it’s easy.”
*I’m sorry, I wish I could control it.*
“Don’t be sorry, you can’t help it. I’ll go see what they want, I’ll be back.”
With a wink, he left the room. Leaving me in silence. It was loud. I’m so used to his chatter.
I wanted to hear what they were saying, but this room they had me in blocked my mind reading abilities. I guess they dealt with mind readers before.
After about 30 minutes, Will came back in. His face tight and grim. “It’s time for you to leave this place. They need you outside.”
*What for? Are you going to come with me?*
He smiled, “I can’t come with you, but I’ll be somewhere safe, waiting for you. Okay?”
*Okay... you sure you’ll be safe?*
“I promise. Now, onto the details. There’s an alien inva—“
*—HOLY SHIT AILENS EXIST?!*
He winced. “Ow! John, that’s my brain! You are loud!”
*Sorry, continue.*
“As I was saying, there’s aliens. They touched down in New York, I swear I didn’t think the movies would be right. Anyways, it’s getting overrun, the aliens are over powering the Supers. They’ve gone from offense to defense and are focusing solely on evacuation, they need you to wipe everything out.”
*I... I can’t do that. You know I can’t do that! Innocent people will die, they can’t evacuate everyone!*
“Innocent people are dying, it’s too late to stop that from happening. Besides, we had a 2 day head start. Almost all of New York was evacuated along with the neighboring states. They have water type supers ready to stop the tsunami and earth type for any ruptures.”
*Do I have time to think on it?*
“No, you don’t. I’m sorry, John.”
*Oh... I don’t really have a choice, do I?*
“Not if you want human civilization to survive.”
*I... I’m scared. What if I destroy too much? What if I end the world?*
“Don’t think like that, you won’t end the world. You’ll do fine. All you have to say is one word.”
*Just one?*
“Just one.”
I nod. *Okay, I can do that.* | Titan Omega lay on the couch looking up at the ceiling of Doctor Woodhall's office. It was a familiar sight, the textured ceiling much better than the rest of the Leauge's bland and sterile halls. Everything in the office was designed to set a person at ease, to break them out of the mindset of being the superheroes who constantly had to save and protect the world. That kind of stress was a bit too much for some of them, after all despite amazing powers they were just people at the end of the day. That was where the Doctor came in.
Looking at the wall Titan Omega looked over the psychologist's awards and degrees. Highly qualified, of course, the League would spare no expense when it came to the mental well-being of their champions. He was stalling. The topic of discussion was difficult for him, and it wasn't the first time he'd been here to discuss it. The clock on the wall ticked in the silence, the Doctor patiently waiting for the hero to speak.
"Jesus Christ Doc," Titan Omega finally spoke, breaking the silence as he stared at his own hands. "They had me throw an asteroid at the city!"
"I see," The Doctor's response was even, calm, it lacked judgment or reaction. He made a note.
"No, you don't!" The hero shook his head and balled his hands into fists, clenching and unclenching muscles that could crush a tank like a soda can. "They call me in when it gets really bad, when the amount of force is... Jesus Christ, Doc, all those people."
Doctor Woodhall nodded slowly gauging the hero's mental state. He knew the situation, his clearance was high enough. Professor Ragnarock had taken over a city and converted most of the population into cyborg soldiers. The evil genius had made sure most of the heroes the League had to stop him were either absent, neutralized, or in the case of Titan Omega himself, unable to approach the city directly. A radiation field in the only energy frequency that could harm Titan Omega surrounded the city a good 50 miles out. The military had tried to bomb or use drone strikes but their air defense and a powerful shield stopped all the attacks. In the end, the only solution had been for Titan Omega to fly out to the asteroid belt, pick the correct-sized chunk of rock and accelerate it at near light speed toward the city. The devastation was... cataclysmic.
"Doc, seriously you can't understand what it is to totally annihilate a city!" The blonde-haired hero shook, not with rage but with sorrow. "I'm the one they call in when they need absolute destruction, no survivors."
"Uh-huh," The response was uncharacteristically callous as if the Doctor wasn't even paying attention. Titan Omega glanced over and the Doctor's eyes were flicking over some text on his tablet. He was frowning.
"Doc? Are you listening?" Titan Omega asked, the behavior of the Doctor making him feel unheard and ignored.
"I am," Doctor Woodhall replied setting the tablet down. "You are concerned with how readily and easily it is for you to end life. To destroy things so utterly and completely. You feel the guilt and weight of destroying lives with a power beyond that of any other member of the League. Is that right?"
"Uh, yeah Doc, that's right," The hero hesitated, there was a change in the Doctor's voice. He was suddenly more somber, more serious. "It's tough to know that at any instant you could be called to snuff out thousands of lives."
"I understand, let me pose you a question," Doctor Woodhall leaned back in his chair and sighed. "What makes you, you?"
"Uh, Doc?" The hero glanced at him for a moment, this was a strange line of thought. "I guess, my mind?"
"But your mind can be changed," The Doctor responded. "There are a half dozen psychics on staff here who can easily make you think you are a chicken."
"But I'm still me underneath," The hero countered after a thought. "Another psychic could restore me, but I see your point. If my mind can be altered and shaped by others is it really me? Maybe it's my soul?"
"Fair enough," The Doctor said with a shrug. They both knew souls were real. Necromancers and wizards had demonstrated that in the super-powered world a long time ago. Honestly, it was a good point as most mind control was broken upon death. "But what if that is even malleable?"
"Doc?" The hero stared at the psychologist in puzzlement. "What's your point? In fact, what the heck does any of this have to do with me?"
"Well, you asked if I had any idea what it was like to totally annihilate something, to be a force of god-like destruction, didn't you?" The Doctor said taking off his glasses and folding them before slipping them in the front pocket of his shirt.
"Yeah, I mean I guess," Titan Omega frowned, he hadn't asked that exactly, but close enough.
"Well I'm illustrating you didn't totally annihilate anything," The Doctor said with a shrug. "You broke their bodies, flattened the city, but their souls go on... and the memory of all those people exists. So, they continue on in one form or another."
"Doc, now you're arguing pointless semantics," Titan Omega scowled. "Physics says energy and matter can't be destroyed, only change states. So by that logic, nothing is ever truly annihilated."
"My point is more philosophical than physical," The Doctor responded standing and walking to the window. "I understand your point but that is why I asked, what makes you... you?"
(1/2 Sorry was just slightly too long so split it into two reasonable parts) | 2021-05-26T09:15:55 | 2021-05-26T07:17:01 | 35 | 21 |
[WP] You wake up in a tub of ice with a two insicions on your back and a note that reads "Why don't you have any kidneys? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU?" | *Who knows,* the man thought to himself as he crumpled the note.
He settled into the tub. The man felt cozy and settled, like a bourbon with dinner. Someone tried to make a pass on him, but wound up with a truth unsettling enough for two crooks; There were no kidneys.
*Fancy that.* Explained some things. Alcohol was a non-issue for his non-existent kidneys. That was a plus.
On the other hand, his liver may be in twice as much trouble. The alarm calmed down after realizing that his liver didn't exist either.
*Bastard could have told me that much too if he was gonna play doctor on me.* Broken ice clacked across the surface where his legs shifted. A numb hand placed over his chest, feeling for a pulse.
His ribs did rise with a breath. But nothing more.
*Like I'm known for having a heart anyway.* The man cracked a smile. He lifted himself from the tub to find his slacks. Then his magnum. Then the rest. He would never be caught dead without pants, so this was as normal as a day in Topeka could be.
The window cracked open to the clinks and roars of Kansas' capital. And out there in the clinks and roars was a bastard who thought he could cut him up and get away with it.
He leaned over the window ledge to stare across the clunky sunrise, taking it all in. Committing the glass, bricks and sky to memory. Every morning could be his last.
*And each morning* he thought in dark whimsy, *I'm glad I asked for a brain.*
A spin on his heel and a hat placed on his head, the man put the dawn behind him to march down the day in sinister, rehearsed choreography. There was a past to cover up.
And the Scarecrow would not have loose chains in his town.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
**Note:** Having time to read is a luxury. The fact you spend that time reading responses to this subreddit means a lot to several here. /u/Volgin has generously given me my first gold noting the Dark Tower style and asking I write more in 2016. Thank you. I will. To those who've asked to see more, I made a subreddit [r/Galokot](https://www.reddit.com/r/galokot) for that specific purpose. I'm new to writing as of this month and have more prompts to respond to before I feel confident continuing the story to your expectations. So there won't be a continuation here. But we will return to Topeka when I'm ready. Thank you for your responses, and I'll see you in the New Year. | "Aww fuck this won't be good. I'm in Chongqing so I'm sure this was done by the koruppted boys. The low level bitches who fucked my back up are being chewed out by their Capo right now I bet. He's going to tell his boss and that fat fuck will know exactly who I am.
It's easier getting lost in mainland China than most of the west but there's one problem. These mother fuckers are superstitious. You get discovered by a gang in the Americas and they have you on a horse taking gun fire from a sherif by nightfall. You get discovered here and all the sudden there's talk of cutting your dick off an eating it. Dick and hearts. These motherfuckers...."
Edit- no one else is willing to try and write but quick with the downvotes. Guess people don't like monologues | 2015-12-30T22:41:52 | 2015-12-30T20:45:14 | 2,123 | 25 |
[WP] When you reach the age of 21, you are given a check from the government. The check has been carefully calculated and is worth the minimum amount of money you need for the rest of your life. Your check came in the mail today and it was $7.27
Edit: Wow this blew up better than I thought it would. | I sighed, walking out of the bank with my entire 7.27 in hand. I already told my family, my job, my friends...
These sorts of things were common. A small amount was a signal of a short life to live, but even those were usually at least a hundred bucks! Enough to spend at a bar as I mourned my own death...but what could 7.27 get me?!
As I walked down the street, I considered my options. Food? A drink? I almost considered not spending it. Maybe I could prolong my life by not spending it.
I passed by a foodstall. One taco for 2$.
I looked at the money in my hand, considering...
I sigh. Fuck it, I was dead anyway. No point in delaying the inevitable. One cheap taco here and a 7-11 drink from down the road. There have been worse last meals. "One, please." I tell the vendor.
As my taco is being made, I feel a tug on my pants. I look down and see a kid, covered in mud and torn clothing. "Mister," she says. "Can you help please? I'm lost."
Ah...poor kid. "Do you know a number to call?"
"Yes." She answers. I give her my phone, opening up to the call button.
Doesn't particularly matter if she steals it. I'll be dead soon anyways, so I leave her to it as I take my taco. She's talking on the phone, her voice thin and reedy as she talks, close to tears and sitting on the sidewalk curb as she asks for 'Daddy' to come get her. Apparently she wandered away from her her mother and had been walking for about three hours on her own.
Three hours? Poor kid must be starving... I count the money remaining, and ask for one more taco and water. Lucky me, the entire 7.27 pays for two tacos and a bottle of water, plus tax.
I sit on the curb as she hangs up. Wordlessly, I trade her the phone for the taco, and sit with her as we wait, leaving her the cold water to drink. She sits close, using my larger body for shade. She looks sun burnt as hell, so I don't mind.
The police come roaring up with sirens and everything, and shuffle her away. "You the one who found her?" They ask as she talks to the officer, being led into the car.
"Indeed I was." I say, wiping my hands on a tissue paper. "She gonna be okay?"
"Yeah, the father sends his thanks." The police officer says. "Asking for you to be brought in too."
Me? "Why?" I ask.
"There was a reward offered. The girl was kidnapped by her deranged mother for the last two months, the father is a multi-millionare."
My stomach suddenly drops. "...No shit?"
The officer snorts, half laughing. "No shit. You're going to be a very rich person by the end of the day."
And so. I was. That one taco and phone call ended up profiting me about 700k. Sometimes the psychic cheque works out great in weird ways.
She and I are still friends. We go out for tacos every once in a while, she thinks of me like an older sibling and I'm her regular baby sitter. | First time, be gentle!
Seven dollars and twenty-seven cents? Was this a joke? Today was my 21st birthday. Today was also the day I received my allotment. The amount of money I was expected to use to live off for the rest of my life. Oh, I could go get a job. All the usual ways of earning money were still there. But the government statistical psychologists had distilled human beings down to a few basic equations that allowed them to gage how much each person would need to live in comfort for their entire adult life.
Now, I don’t come from money, but I’ve always had big dreams, and I’ve tried hard to find ways to get the things I want out of life, even if it meant bending the rules sometimes. But I’ve got to be honest here. I’m not the smartest tool in the shed, and I certainly do not want to spend the rest of my natural life grubbing to survive. Seven dollars and twenty-seven cents is just not going to cut it!
Damn it. I guess I’ll just head home and try to figure things out. I paid my $7.27 bus faire, and headed home. That’s when the miracle happened. “Hi cutie, I don’t normally see you on this bus”. He looked to be about 70. The watch said money, even if his mode of transportation said frugal. I think I found my allotment. | 2019-04-24T14:52:39 | 2019-04-24T14:23:26 | 335 | 13 |
[WP] Write a story in which the last line is a common phrase, such as, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," but when we get to that line, it should have a totally different meaning from the common one. | “Something’s coming.”
I hadn’t been sleeping, not really anyway. Just resting my eyes, I swear. I cleared my throat as quietly as I could.
“Is it her?”
Mon shook his head, “I can’t tell yet.” He was leaning against a chest high chunk of cinderblock, scanning out past the ruptured asphalt and rusted out cars for any movement. His eyes were better, so he had the scope. The slab of collapsed concrete that made up the roof of our hiding place only left a gap about a foot tall for us to peer out of. Plenty of view to see things coming before they could see us.
That was the idea anyway.
“It’s got to be her right?” I sat up straighter against the wall and ran my fingers through the can of bullets next to me. I knew how many there were, but counting them was a comfort in its own way.
Mon ignored my question, “How many left?”
“Seven.” He knew the answer before I said it. “Do you think she’s bringing water?”
“Dunno if it’s her yet.”
I nodded and felt the sweat beading on the back of my neck.
“Hey, don’t tell Sun I was sleeping.”
I glanced up, but Mon didn't say anything. He just kept his eye pressed against the rotting rubber of the scope, his mouth pressed into a firm line.
“Please don’t tell him, I don’t want him to get angry.” Mon just made a noncommittal sound and kept his attention on whatever he was watching. “It’s gotta be her. It’s past time for her to get here. I hope she found water. She must have found something-” I know I was babbling but at least I was keeping my voice down. “-after last time I’m sure she was careful.”
“Get ready.” Mon’s voice was barely above a whisper but it shut me up right away.
I scrambled to my knees and grabbed my rifle. As I loaded a bullet and pushed the bolt home I muttered, “Six left.”
My chest hit the wall and I braced as best I could, scanning for whatever had caught Mon’s attention.
There, moving slowly, carefully between the cars was a shape. In the gray dusk it looked human. But the Strange always did, at least until they got too close. That’s why Mon had the scope, because we had to be sure. You couldn't let a Strange get too close…
I aimed as best I could and strained to make out any detail. Whoever, whatever it was, was being careful, keeping to cover, no wonder Mon couldn't make it out.
*Please have red hair*, I thought as I rested my finger against the trigger.
“Is it her?” I knew I was pleading, but I couldn't help it.
“Aim.”
I swallowed and tightened my finger, the figure would have no choice but to pass into the open now. I strained my eyes for any hint of color, but the figure was just gray moving against gray. It was in the open now, and I could hear Mon letting out a long slow breath. I did the same, preparing to fire.
*What if it’s her?* I shoved the thought to the back of my mind. Too late now, you couldn’t let the Strange get too close.
Mon’s breath hitched, “Wait!” his voice was a hiss. “It’s her!”
I released the trigger and slumped aside, relief flooding me. A moment later and we would have killed her. And then where would we be? “Thank God.”
Mon nodded and clapped me on the shoulder.
“Thank God, it’s Friday.” | It was a simple deal, or so I thought. There I was at my lowest point, homeless, broke, with a needle in my arm. The guy in leathers came to me, glowing faintly, but it could have been the drugs. I asked him to help me.
He did.
He became the voice on my shoulder. I caught breaks at every chance. Made money, got rich, enjoyed power. Then he whispered for me to kill. And I did. And I loved it. The bodies stacked up, but eventually I was caught.
The nurses in the chamber fixed the buckles on my limbs tight to the metal bed. I looked to the window where the families of my victims sat side by side with the Police who had chased me. Eager to watch the "State" bring justice. I was sure that my keeper had let me go. I'd fulfilled a bit of the devil's chaos, and now was my time to come join him.
Then I heard a quiet voice. Too quiet to make out.
Everyone left the chamber. A voice came over the loud speaker, but I didn't hear because I was straining to hear the voice. Some minutes went by, but then I heard the gas hiss into the room. At first, my breath caught, I coughed a couple times.
Suddenly I felt power. Strength. The room was a green haze. I pulled at my restraints and they came free. I smiled, suddenly sure that my job wasn't over. Smoothly I sat up on the table, and over the shrieking coming from the other side of the glass, I heard the voice. Oh so clear now.
*What does not kill you makes you stronger.* | 2015-05-16T09:31:32 | 2015-05-16T08:20:10 | 27 | 11 |
[WP] After too many ridiculous and lengthy lawsuits dominate the world's courts, the world leaders decided to pass a law to remove all warning labels. The Darwin Act has just been passed. | It didn't go as we predicted really. Don't get me wrong, it was really well thought out. The logic was sound. If we removed the warning labels on products, of course we would see a spike in accidental deaths, but the deaths would be beneficial because we would end the propagation of stupid people. And since no one wanted to admit they were stupid, the law passed with little push back from the opposition. The plan was easy, unopposed and everyone secretly rejoiced over finally being rid of their idiot boss, co-worker, spouse, etc.
So we removed every posted speed limit, height restriction, hot warning label, trespassing sign. If it was a warning, it was gone.
Except, well, the idiots didn't die.
That's the thing about stupid people. Stupid people are incredibly lucky. That's why you run into so many of them during the day. They don't die. Not in large enough numbers to make any sort of difference.
I've seen them. The ones that are supposed to die. They ride in cabs of trucks on highways holding on to mattresses, or record themselves breaking into zoo enclosures to slap a crocodile. And they live. They get away with it because the smart ones give them a wide berth. We are too smart for our own good and we want to preserve our own lives by not ramming our trucks into them and potentially killing ourselves in the culling process.
Then the police started giving up. They viewed every idiot maneuver and broken law as a way of enforcing Darwin's Law. If they interceded then they'd be acting as the very warning we worked to remove. The police couldn't stop people from doing stupid things, and we also didn't make it legal for them to shoot the idiots when they were acting dumb.
Soon after that we saw strength in numbers. The idiots would encourage one another to perform more and more dangerous and stupid stunts. The dumb ones banded together to get away with everything they could. They'd sue homeowners for stopping them from doing parkour off the roof of their homes at all hours of the night under the guise of infringing on their "right to be dumb."
We saw huge casualties in our side. Smart pedestrians were getting blown apart by worn car tires and texting drivers. Children were dying imitating stunts seen online. Reasonably educated people were dying left and right as idiots attempted their own home repairs, only to be crushed by garage doors and burn to death by faulty wiring caused by their dumb spouse. No one thought to question whether the loves of their lives would be classified as "dense," and if they might be the victim of that stupidity.
We saw a spike in organ donations. The smart that died at the hands of the idiots were essentially harvested to replace the parts of themselves that the idiots had destroyed. A 40-day drinking binge as part of a YouTube challenge could be negated with a brand new liver courtesy of Linda Hall, who died in hospital after her husband locked her in a deep freeze for 20 minutes as a joke.
Then the baby boom happened. These idiots lost all sense of shame. They'd sit with enormous dildos crammed up their backsides and laugh loudly in hospital waiting rooms about their situation, and wouldn't you know it, but some other idiot with four tampons lodged inside her would find this man's exhibitionism and outgoing nature completely endearing. They'd have to have about 9 kids to ensure one made it to adulthood, but the baby industry sure does well for those first 4 weeks of each child's life.
And now, now the smart ones are mostly gone. The idiots have filled in gaps in the workforce and they're occupying places of monumental responsibility and power. The nurses and doctors are killing the smart ones as they come in for basic medical attention. The idiots don't need doctors much because they know their organs are in good shape, and because they're stupid enough to set their own bones and sew their own stitches.
And today the dummies in charge voted to keep Darwin's Law in place. I can't believe these idiots outsmarted us all.
| "I hate mop days" I mutter as I mix the bleach an ammonia solution and poor it into the bucket. For one I always feel bad watching people slip and fall when they don't realize the floor is wet. Even worse, mopping the floors always makes me feel nauseous and gives me a headache for some unknown reason. But thanks to my fall earlier today, I am nauseous already, along with some dizziness, and a horrible headache.
It happened at the entrance to our building as it usually does. "Watch your step, watch your step" I always remind myself as I head toward the front door. But today Susan caught my eye again. Susan is so beautiful, and kind. I really wish I had the courage to ask her out. She hurries to catch up to me while I wait for her. As we enter the the building I forget about the step up and trip.
"Tom are you OK?!" Susan exclaims. As get up, I can feel the pain in my cheek. "Oh that's gonna bruise, I am so sorry Tom. I can't believe I made you trip again".
"It's not your fault, I uh, I gotta go". I mutter as I hurry off embarrassed and humiliated. Things could be worse. There was the time I lit a match so I could see inside the lawnmower fuel tank. So many things I have tasted out of curiosity, only to get seriously hurt or sick.
"But enough about that, it's time to get mopping" I think. Suddenly I am overwhelmed and hit the floor.
Why can't I get up? What is happening? This is the end, I can feel it. My thoughts drift to my children. I wish they were still alive. Jenny who used to love those flammable pajamas I bought her. Joseph who just wanted to try a ride in those cool sideloading washers at the laundromat. Jimmy who choked on that tiny toy. Jake who I held over the fence so he could see the lions better. James who died of eColi after I checked his temperature rectally then orally with the same thermometer. Jessica who I tried to dry in the microwave. Maybe it's for the best that Susan and I never got together. It's getting dark now.
Edit: Had to make a few changes, didn't realize Mc Donald's coffee and objects in mirrors had already been used above. | 2017-03-24T04:44:44 | 2017-03-24T04:37:56 | 41 | 25 |
[WP]You were the laughing stock of super hero school, and decide to become a villain. you know the entire next generations weaknesses now. | Wow, it's amazing what power does to one's head.
Look at that, Rocket Man just punched through three inches of steel. Whoop-de-flipping-doo, there was a window behind him.
Oh, Electricity just broke a terrorist defensive line with a thunderbolt. I wonder if she knows that the men around her are on metal flooring? Nnnope. There goes a perfectly competent squadron.
But me, I'm weak. I've been a laughing stock for three long years, and despite all they claim to preach, those heroes NEVER showed me any kind of compassion. And I think now, it's time I got even. I'm the perfect supervillain. My power, the power to simply read and think quickly in the presence of Helium gas, enables the only revenge I plan to take.
As I type this, a few hitmen are making special trips. Not to kill anyone, mind you. Simply to make a few alterations to some costumes. The owners are nowhere nearby. I booked them all dinners at restuarants. And now, all six of the city's heroes have a little present from me. I know Rocket Man uses contact lenses, after one fell out when he pushed me over. I know Electricity is drained of power upon contact with copper. I know The Beast is rather poetically vulnerable to tranquilliser serums. I know Magic dan has a weak knee where he fractured it. And I know, most importantly, that Brainius, the one who ridiculed me the most, who started it and ended it, for having a power that's a simple, straight upgrade to mine, is so incredibly vulnerable to breathing anything but clean air.
So now I'll wait...
Ah, there we are. Two weeks, and a big bad by the name of Mecha Master is threatening the city. Well, now's my time! Let's see... Yep, all present. So, I'll just wait for the monologue to end... there we go! I just push this button, and Hey Presto- Rocket Man's contact lenses just split and he missed the nearby robot, Electricity fell a good ten metres from the air and- Oh, what a delightful angle her arm's at! It matches the injury I got! The Beast is out like a stone, face down and surrounded. Magic Dan can't walk, and Brainius... ah, it's just as I always dreamed! For once, he can't think of a way to win! That little capsule of CO2 in his breathing apparatus is really paying itself off.
...So, now Mecha Master just takes then all captive as agreed, sticks them in specialised holding cells, and leaves them to rot. E-asy.
Wait, he's making a speech about executing them tomorrow.
...Can't have that. I need to let them know. And THEN execute them.
| All throughout school, they teased me. Mocked me. Ridiculed me. I had always been the odd man out, as everyone else had these magnificent powers and abilities, and I never did. They shunned me, saying I wasn't one of them. My life was miserable for so long, until recently.
Because it turns out, I do have powers. I'm an absorber. What does this mean? Each time a person with powers touches me, I absorb the DNA of their abilities through my skin and my body makes a copy of those powers for me to use. And guess what? All of the most popular, all of the most powerful super heroes have touched me. All those who shoved me to the dirt. All those who pushed me into the lockers, laughing hysterically at my expense. Those who tortured me for years, saying I didn't belong there because I was told I didn't have powers like they did. Well now I have the last laugh indeed.
I've absorbed all of their powers, and now I'm coming for them. | 2017-08-16T14:22:44 | 2017-08-16T12:39:59 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] write a document voicing the complaints of the engineer who has to design an ancient tomb full of easily solvable puzzles. | > The lord regent's advisor on matters of technology is delighted with your progress on the tomb, and wishes to inform you that she has the utmost confidence that your design will be exactly what the God King (praised be his name) needs in this life and in the next. She is particularly pleased that your design did not actually give away the details of the tomb's secrets. You are, of course, entirely correct that the only ones who need know the secrets are you and the God King (praised be his name) himself, and since you will be buried with the tomb upon its completion, these secrets will be safe. Having said that, her ladyship did have one or two small suggestions...
Saul, this is ridiculous.
They want me to change the lock on the antechamber. They're fine with it being the God King (praised be his name)'s secret name, but they want me to put up a mural with a secret clue in the alligator room. A clue? What purpose can that possibly serve? The only one allowed into the antechamber is the God King (praised be his name) himself, and an infallible being isn't likely to forget his own name and need a clue.
Even worse is the glow. You're not going to believe this but they insist that the various traps in the tomb be rubbed with the bodies of crushed glow-flies.
When the God King (praised be his name) walks the bridge of hallowed ancestors, it's not like he'll forget the sigil of his great grandmother, so what's the use in making all the wrong stones glow in faint light?
I've spent years ensuring that the swinging blade lubrication system will last decades perhaps even centuries, so that the God King (praised be his name)'s tomb is protected against scavengers, but that will all be wasted if they insist on putting up warnings... and the worst part is they don't want to use standard Hieroglyphics for those warnings, they want simplified pictograms. Even if we wanted a warning (which we don't!) why would we warn the illiterate?
I know you're tired of my asking, but are you absolutely certain that traveling in time is not possible? Every security feature I come up with gets "fine tuned" whenever that Kurofot person is around, and now she's been named the advisor on matters of technology.
Her clothes are strange, her Egyptian is terrible, and she has some very odd notions. And those "inventions", she keeps coming up with a new one whenever her political position is weak... It always seems to me like her "advice" is exactly what I'd suggest if I wanted to raid the tomb at some distant point in the future.
Please Saul, help me expose this Lahra Kurofot as a traitor so I can keep the God King (praised be his name) safe in the afterlife.
-- Nubia, chief engineer of the tomb of the God King (praised be his name). | Got damn it. I am sick of these damn tombs. You won't let me design any of the traps, you constantly send me stupid masons, and now, my wages are getting reduced because you wanted a FUCKING GEM as a distraction at the end of this hall.
FUCK YOU!
I am not even Egyptian. I don't have to deal with this crap. Last week one of the masons stepped on the easily visible spike traps and impaled himself. I had to cover his losses with the family. The wife kept crying and I told that bitch, "Look! Your husband walked right past a "trap here: Do not enter sign and got a spike up his ass. Next time pick a better husband."
Then to make it worse, the Pharaoh blames me whenever graves get robbed. News flash, when you place different colored stone in very visible locations, people tend to leave it the hell alone.
Jupiter's Cock!
Let me show you the kind of traps I really want to make. Follow the path on the left of the entrance and knock three times on the right side. Once you do that, the wall will come down and you can enter. There, you will see the best labyrinth ever!
--- No one heard from the supervisor again. --- | 2016-03-17T11:43:18 | 2016-03-17T08:48:50 | 49 | 13 |
[WP]Time travel is possible, but requires an "anchor" item created in the target era. You've gone to the year 900 using a Viking sword and the year 300 using a Roman Coin. You've just started the process using a small statue of unknown origin and it proves to be vastly older than human history. | The air is heavier. Way denser than back home, almost as dense as the expansive jungle canopy overhead. I have a deeply uncanny feeling about this.
"Hard to breathe," I say, casting about for a sign of civilization. The trees are massive and alien, the growth of another era.
Jax is readying the Seeker drones. We have five this time, each worth a small fortune. The Pentagon has deep, deep pockets.
"Sensors seem to be working fine," Jax says, assembling the final pieces of the fifth drone. "May have a bit of difficulty flying in such humid air, but they should get us what we need."
A centipede the size of my forearm crawls through the detritus of leaves and other decaying vegetation on the jungle floor. It chitters as it moves, making my skin crawl.
"Well," I say, aware that I'm already soaked in cloying sweat. "Where the fuck are we?"
"When is more accurate," Jax says, stating the obvious as always. He stands up and walks over to our command console, a small two seated buggy equipped with highly-classified camouflage systems that render it all but invisible. The buggy employs the most advanced software humanity is capable of, including an inter-dimensional space-time communications device.
Jax turns and gives me a look. "Better report to Command, sir."
"Right," I say, tearing my gaze away from the centipede, which is curling itself around some other unidentifiable creature, a sort of slow moving frog-turtle hybrid. I walk over to the buggy and proceed with the normal sequence of inputs on the external communications panel.
"Command," I say, whispering out of caution. "We aren't going to be able to drive the buggy. We are in dense jungle foliage. There are tree trunks here the size of small buildings. We have reason to believe we are very, very far back in time. Over."
It takes thirty minutes before the reply reaches them. Thirty minutes in which they both sit silently, marvelling at the alien foliage that surrounds them on all sides. There are deep purples and oranges interspersed with the normal green of the jungles back home.
"Copy that Lieutenant Bradley," comes the reply, finally, directly from beneath the Pentagon. "Try to find a clearing to launch the drones then get back to the buggy and begin reporting what you find. The thirty minute turn-around time for our messages indicates that you are currently somewhere in the time before the dawn of human civilization. Maybe even before our forebears, the apes. We'll figure out next steps once we have an idea of the surrounding topography. Confirm receipt of command. Over."
"Confirmed," I say, then I pull down the nano-carbon cover and activate the buggy's stationary mode. It melds with its surroundings until it appears as a giant, moss covered rock.
It takes us forty-five minutes to get no more than a hundred meters from the buggy, the foliage is so all encompassing and dense.
Jax eventually gives up. "Let's just launch one of the drones from here, see if it can get above the canopy."
I nod, too tired and drenched in sweat to really care that we aren't following protocol. We release one and turn back to the buggy, then wait to see what it maps out.
The readouts start to take shape twenty minutes after we return to the buggy. It slowly becomes obvious that the jungle is not a product of the forces of nature, but instead seems to be artificially sculpted. The scans determine that there are small dwellings littered throughout the canopy, nestled in the foliage of the behemoth trees that spread in every direction.
Jax turns to me, whispering what I already know. I can barely hear him over the sounds of the jungle. "We are smack-dab in the middle of a city," he says, peering upwards. "There are hundreds of homes directly above us."
"Better let Command know," I say, starting to prepare the data, which is sparse and incomplete given that we only launched one drone, but we have enough information to know that this is unlike anything we've ever seen.
Jax watches the Seeker drone's live feed. It moves slowly, maintaining its stealth as it scans the canopy directly overhead. The sensors pick up a whirling sound, which grows and grows until it connects directly with the drone in a final bang, bringing it down to the jungle floor, broken and useless.
The jungle suddenly grows silent, alerting us to the humanoid shapes that begin to appear between the trees.
"Oh fuck," I say, just as I finish compiling the report and hitting the button that sends it through time.
The creatures emerge quickly, surrounding us in an instant. So much for the camouflage.
"Lizards?" Jax says, incredulous, before the lights go out. | Happy Cake day! This is a really great wp. I hope to do it justice as I am fairly new to this page.
The resounding air curled up as the room began to lose its geometry. Everything became a blur as it stretched and disfigured into the swirling pipe above. The scene was all too familiar. This was your third trip into the past. The facility of Xenon Tech began to suck away all the same as the laboratory room. The trees on the outside stretched and the earth itself began to convulse beneath your feet. Then, something happened.. the Earth split open and dragged itself above you. The core of the Earth, a bright orange molten ball now like strips of bright spaghetti above. And then, the swirling blue planet now faded into the distance. You look around frantically. The sun stretched across a black background. The swirls of fire from its surface twisted and whipped above and circled you like a cage. Your heart began to speed up now as the realization occurs, you have just left Earth.
Other planets passed all the same, Jupiter, then Neptune. You are beyond the rim of your known solar system. The scenes began to slow, the landing point was coming up. Your fear has gripped you now and the space you occupied suddenly felt very small and hot. Would you be able to breathe when you stop? What if its hot or the gravity crushes you?
Your journey stopped abruptly. You crashed down to a hard stone floor in the center of a dark gray room. Human-like beings stood around you in a circle. They're dressed in silver and black bejeweled gowns with hoods covering their faces. They stood straight with tall metal staves in their hands. Their feet were bare. Some looked like giant black panther's paws, others like human feet. They began to murmur amongst one another in quiet purring and growling voices. One of the taller ones removed their hood, their heavy golden necklace clanging in the quiet. Her pupils were tall black towers within a pool of blue. Gold encircled her eyes and wrapped up around the side of her face to her tall ears. Her face resembled a cat! Even more bizarre is that you recognized her. Bastet! An Egyptian god!
Just then, you felt a burning sensation over your entire body. Your clothes began to feel hot, very hot. The cotton in the clothes are reacting poorly with the air and are heating up. A small fire lit up at the interface between your pants and shirt. You drop the small figurine and begin to strip off all of your clothes and throw them onto the floor in front of you. They erupt into flames and burn very hot and quickly. With it, the return device that was supposed to bring you home. You bend over and pick up the figurine and cover yourself while looking around the room again. The beings were unmoving. Your heart palpitates now as panic beseeches you.
"Welcome, human." You hear from within your head. | 2020-04-17T08:57:35 | 2020-04-17T08:40:15 | 386 | 134 |
[WP] At 14, every human gains the ability to transform into their spirit animal. Your noble family, comprised entirely of wolves, isn't happy with your transformation... | My father Michael Walters and my mother Natalie were both well respected doctors. My older siblings- Vivian, Sam, and Edward were all gifted. Vivian was still moving through med school, Sam and Edward were focusing on engineering degrees.
I was the youngest, and I'd always felt like a disappointment. My whole family moved with grace and ease, keeping an aura of wisdom and poise at all time. I moved with clumsiness and unease. Mom assured me that when the time came, my spirit form would allow me to fully mature. To fit in.
"Don't worry, Peter" she'd say as she kissed me on the head. "You'll be just fine once you find your way."
And I believed her. So I blundered through school as best I could, yearning for the day to come where I'd fit in. To make up for my lack of academic success, I was the prankster of the school. While nobody could count on me to have the right answer to a question, they could count on me to make them laugh. And for now I was content with that.
When the night of my birthday arrived, I was *so* eager. Finally, I'd be able to tap into the wolven wisdom and power that had blessed my family back for generations. Finally, I'd stop being a joke. I'd be *respected* for once.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"God damn it Natalie" I whispered. "Our son *actually* got a wolf form. How the fuck is that even possible?"
"The spirits don't make mistakes. Maybe this will help him grow up?"
"You know it doesn't work like this, it's supposed to be a manifestation of who you already are. It doesn't help, it friggin *amplifies.* What are we supposed to do? He can't come to clan meetings, you know that. He has zero sense of decorum."
"Yeah... he does not have the temperament for those at all. If we bring him we are going to piss everyone off. Maybe piss them off enough to dethrone *you*. Wait. I have an idea."
"Breathless to hear it."
"We need to roll for his name still, right? If the spirits see fit to grant him a noble one, then *hopefully* we can keep him quiet at clan events and just... I dunno, cultivate an air of mystery?"
"Better than an air of tomfoolery and, I'm sorry but I have to say this, utter incompetence. He failed fourth grade, Natalie. Twice."
"He just has to sit there. He can do that."
"Fine... roll for his spirit name. Fingers crossed."
Nat bent over the star charts, and cast the handful of ancient carved stones. I leaned back from the table and waited for her to reveal what the spirits had chosen as our son's name.
God.
Fucking.
Damn it.
Moon Moon. | My parents lit the candles that were stuck into a strip of venison. We began to count down as the clock ticked closer to my time of birth. It would mark my fourteenth birthday and my transformation into the animal that guided my soul.
10-9-8-
I started to sweat.
-7-6-5-
I stared at my sister in front of me.
-4-3-2-
The candles looked so evil poking out of her like that.
-1! *poof*
I can't breath! Help I can't fucking breath! It had all gone so wrong! I was helpless I couldn't move, what am I!?
I was on the floor gasping for air. My family towered over me looking extremely disappointed. Their eyes widened and I noticed they began to drool.
A spoon has fallen to the floor during the chaotic transformation, and I noticed my reflection in it.
It seemed I would soon face the same end as my sister, for I was now Salmon.
| 2017-01-21T19:17:27 | 2017-01-21T17:14:16 | 956 | 108 |
[WP] An alien replacing your father and pretending to be him sounds like everybody horror's story, except for you and your mother since it is affectionate, caring, helps you with school and has even been promoted at work and is an absolute dork for SciFi movies. | It's not that Phil was a bad man. Phil. I stopped calling him "Dad" a little after my twelfth birthday, when I went to the kitchen in the middle of the night for a glass of water and found him passed out next to the fridge, his face smushed up against the wall so hard that the moulding left marks on his cheeks the next day. Something swelled in my throat as I watched him snore, and I wasn't sure if it was pity or bile. He smelled like whiskey and his own piss, which meant he'd had a bad day. It was beer on a normal day, whiskey if he felt like a failure at work, vodka when his demons got too loud and the burn as it went down his throat was the only thing that hurt worse than their voices. I got my glass of water and went back to sleep. Mom would find him, clean him up, and we wouldn't mention it. Like always.
In the morning, I couldn't look him in the eyes and say "Dad," because that was a word that was supposed to be said with love. I couldn't bear to feel the way my lips curled as I spat "good morning, Dad," couldn't bear to see the way that his eyes registered shock, then hurt, then turned down to his cereal as he hung his head. So I started calling him Phil. He never asked why. He at least knew enough to understand that.
But like I said, Phil wasn't a bad man. Not a bad man. The phrase is familiar on my tongue, I have said it so many times that its meaning has melted away. I said it to my friends when they asked in soft voices if I needed help, I said it to my therapist as he coolly listened to me tell the story of how I bailed him out of jail the other week. My mother said it to me for the first time, sitting across the kitchen table, when I was five and Daddy had just smashed a window with his fist, stumbling out of the house with bleeding knuckles that I wanted to kiss better. He never hit us -- I think my mother would have left the instant he laid a finger on me -- but he was always walking the line between neglectful and destructive. Stumbling and swaying across the line, you might say, like the world's worst sobriety check. When I was younger, I would catch glimpses of the man Phil might have been without the alcohol. He built me a tire swing when I was seven, spending the entire afternoon sweating over the maple tree in our backyard, drinking the beers I fetched him from his minifridge. I swung gleefully on it for the rest of the day when he was done, imagining that things had changed, that I'd somehow flown into another universe where he was done drinking for good. He watched me swing with a rueful, crooked kind of smile, swaying with the wind like he might grow roots. My mother came outside and stared for a moment at the scene that should have been normal in any other household but was so bizarre in ours. She asked him in a measured voice how he thought he was going to get to work the next day with only three tires. He slurred at her not to worry, but I saw a shadow pass over his face. He didn’t go to work the next day, too drunk to get a replacement tire, and when I got home from school, he was in the backyard, pulling the swing down with silent fury.
The alien came when I was fifteen. It abducted him somewhere between the crash site and the ER, when his heart stopped for thirty seconds in the ambulance and they almost couldn’t get it to start again, sluggish from the booze in his blood. I know the abduction happened in the ambulance, because when he woke up in the ICU two days later, his eyes were different. Softer. A little more confused, and a little less angry. I stared at him from my spot next to his bed, feeling my eyes burn but refusing to cry for him. The alien in my father’s body apologized when it saw me.
“I’m sorry,” it choked out. "Oh my God. I'm so sorry." Phil had apologized many times before, but none were sincere like this, like he felt actual pain. So I knew it had to be an alien. And the alien reached out a shaking hand from the tangle of tubes and bandages and held my hand.
He learned to walk, slowly. It must have been hard, using a new body, but my mother and I walked by his side. We caught him when he collapsed. The planet that the alien was from must not have been like Earth, because sometimes, I would catch him looking at the stars, or a honeybee, or me, with so much wonder and so much regret. My father never used to look at anything with awe, except maybe a full six-pack. The alien started going to AA meetings and kept his chips in a neat pile by the front door. He learned my favorite foods, and asked me questions about my day. He cooked for my mother one day, putting on opera music in the kitchen and making pasta as he sang in an unsteady voice. She sat down hard in a chair when she came into the kitchen and saw him, her eyes a little watery. The alien apologized, kneeling next to her, holding her hand, telling her he didn't mean to make her cry. He apologized a lot -- it seemed like he was always sorry for something. One time he apologized for mowing the lawn too early on a Saturday, but he glanced at the maple tree outside as he spoke and bit his lip as if he might start crying. I don’t think he was apologizing for mowing the lawn.
It’s not perfect; pretending to be a human for so long must be tiring. He slips up sometimes, looking a little too long at the alcohol aisle in the grocery store, forgetting to go to therapy a few times. But he’s trying. We go on walks, and we learn about each other, and we play board games. I still know it’s not Phil, though. Calling him Phil feels weird, actually. So the other day, I called him Dad. | Distant memories, thankfully, that was all that remained of my old father. Yeah I know, not a nice thing to say about ones sperm donor, but when he turns out to be abusive, not only verbally, but physically as well, to the point of gashes and broken bones, you tend to not care so much about any of that anymore. He was an alcoholic, that much I remember, he'd get up in the middle of the night, only to drag me out of bed for who knows what, maybe just to have a human punching bag? Well, now those days are over. My father, being the pig that he was, somehow died from a heart attack. Ironic, I thought, given that you have to actually *have* a heart to have a heart attack in the first place. But that wasn't even the strangest part of the whole ordeal, before he'd even been put in the ground, before anyone, other than my mother and I, of course, realized he'd died, he'd somehow reappeared, in a strange flash of light. We'd thought it his soul at first, but his form was solid, not smoky or translucent like one would think. Stranger still, his body still lay on the floor, as this, *other* version of him simply stood, smiling gently at us both.
"Hello there." He finally spoke, but his voice, it was a bit different from my father's, with an almost British accent? His brows furrowed slightly, in what appeared to be sadness. "I am, so sorry." Okay now I *knew* this wasn't my father, that bastard never apologized for anything in his life. "You've faced much turmoil, brought on by this man, haven't you? I will not lie to you, I am not your true father, I am a being from another world, I wish to live here. If you would have me, I could care for you both, all that I ask is for a safe place to stay. My kind, we are a peaceful people, we detest violence, so me, and the others like me have begun looking for places where we can help the victims of violence. We can sense the pain and suffering of others, that is why I'm here."
"Is that, what you really look like?" My mother's voice was meek as she spoke, years of abuse transforming her into a near silent, submissive housewife.
"No, I can change my appearance at will, though changing my voice is quite difficult." He explained.
"What do you really look like then?" She asked, clearly nervous.
Light seemed to wash over him, and as it moved over his body, scales flickered into existence. He looked almost reptilian, with dense spikes covering his body, a long tail and claws, with sharp, pointy teeth. It was strange, such creatures only exist in scifi movies, or so I thought. Not only that, but I couldn't understand how such a big, powerful looking creature could "detest" violence, when he looked like he could rip the head off a horse.
It's been a few years now, since that incident, my mother and I having kept my father's death a secret, it's not like anyone would mourn him anyways. Yeah my mom had seen upset for a while, but after the initial shock she seemed almost elated, as if a massive weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Now, my father was no longer an alcoholic, he wouldn't even touch the stuff, hell he wouldn't even drink soda, just water or orange juice, sometimes milk. He'd pick me up from school, take my mom and I on "outings" which seemed to be what his kind called dates. We'd usually go to a fancy restaurant, or to watch a movie, sometimes we'd even go to the park or the beach for a picnic, he absolutely loved swimming, something my father always refused to do. He'd even pick me up from school, and cook almost every night. After a few years, he'd even saved up enough to get us a new house, after he got a big promotion. Life was good now, no longer did I have to worry about saying the wrong thing, and ending up with a black eye. No longer did I have to lie when my dad said he loved me. My father being replaced with an alien, seems like the stuff of nightmares, but for me, it was the greatest blessing I've ever received. | 2020-04-23T09:27:48 | 2020-04-23T08:17:36 | 111 | 36 |
[WP] In a new TV game show contestants must jump into a wormhole that drops them into a random point in time where they must survive for longer than the other contestants. You've just been dropped in the worst possible place. | "Randy Roben coming at you with another exciting episode of Wormhole, the show that literally lifts you off your feet! Our contestants today are Brenda Johnson, a school teacher from Kansas, loves fish, and once had a cat named Meow Zedong. Up next from Florida we have Pete Nickels, a banker by trade, he spends his free time taking care of abandoned turtles. Last but not least, Jim Murphy, a student from the University of Waikato, Jim is known best for his impressions of Tom Hanks as Forrest Gump."
Randy placed his hand on the spinner, "Are you ready folks?" he asked. "Keep in mind that you could be sent anywhere in time and space, and there's no coming back until you are the last man -- or woman -- standing! Are you all ready?"
"WOOHOO, WAIKATO UNI RULES!" Jim shouted as he spun the wheel. *Zap* off he went to China on the day of a Mongolian invasion.
"This is for the turtles" Pete said as he spun the wheel. *Zap* off he went to lovely Athens... which unfortunately was in a period of intermittent war between the Persians and the Spartans and oh.. look at that... there's a plague.
"Hope you are up to date on your Ancient Greek, Πετηρ." Randy said with a laugh.
"I speak Klingon." Brenda said as she spun the wheel. *Zap*
Brenda wakes up in a dark alleyway covered in rubbish. "Where... where am I?" she asks as she rises up and quickly finds a homeless man, trading him what she can for his clothes. "I have to find shelter, who knows what sort of menacing things lurk in these strange times."
Brenda, cloaked in the bum's scraggly clothes, and his odor of urine and alcohol, rushed into the first building she saw. "WHAT YEAR IS IT?" she shouted at the clerk who promptly pressed the panic button.
Pushing aside a gentlemen sitting in the lobby, she took a seat and picked up the newspaper next to her.
"Massacre in Germany: gunman planned attacks for over a year" the headline read, followed by "At least 80 killed in Baghdad bombing"
"but..."
"Mike Pence: the right pick for Trump?"
"but..."
"Ma'am, I'm going to need you to come with me." the officer said as he walked into the hotel lobby.
"But I was supposed to go to the past, I'm only one day in the future. THEY ONLY SENT ME ONE DAY IN THE FUTURE"
"I'm sure they did, let's calm down for a second, are you staying at a shelter?"
"Oh these clothes? These aren't my clothes. I arrived naked, I had to get these clothes. They were supposed to send me to the past"
The officer signaled for his partner to lift Brenda up from her seat.
"What are you doing? I'm from the Wormhole, I have to beat the others! THE OTHERS ARE COMING. I HAVE TO BE THE ONLY ONE."
"You'll have plenty of time to find the others, ma'am." the officer said as he raised his eyebrows in confusion at his partner who let out a laugh before radioing in to the precinct to let them know they were bringing in one for the psych ward.
"You're gonna be nice and safe in this new home."
| "And here ladies,gents and others, is this seasons of "Will they make it!" first contestant! DANNNNNYYY"
Danny looked up and waved sheepishly from the drop grid where the tech's were adding the final pieces of gear to his backpack ready for him to jump into the wormhole in the middle of the stage floor surrounded by the braying crowds.
"The rules as you know are simple everybody, Danny here has been "backed up" in our clone-o-tron last night and hes decided to give surviving somewhere, somewhen a whirl!"
Suddenly the host ram's his thumbnail mic into Danny's face.
"Any last words sport!"
"Erm, yeah mom, dad wish me luck!"
"Well ain't that sweet!" chuckles the host slapping his thigh.
"Well Danny , here we go remember its $10 a second you survive make it interesting!!"
The host dashes over to a giant red level and makes a show of pulling it down as the crowd screams.
"WILLL HEEEE MMAAAKKKEEE IIITTT!!!"
Light's, low sounds and a feeling great pressure hit Danny as the trapdoor he was standing one flops away dropping him into the swirling grey void of the wormhole....
"....URFGH!" Danny grunts and he materialises about a meter in the air dropping onto rough ground. Jumping up he quickly looks around to survey his surroundings.
Warm, humid, lots of fern looking things and bugs the size of rabbits zipping though the air, Danny turns to his West to see what time he has before nightfalls.
"Hey wait two suns's whats going on h" | 2016-07-24T12:59:48 | 2016-07-24T12:20:51 | 79 | 59 |
[WP] They called you a madman for raiding the history museum during a zombie apocalypse. What they didn't expect was for full plate armour to be so effective. | Cricket bats are made out of willow which gives a wonderful, resonant sound when connecting with a skull. An undead skull, naturally and I love a bit of skull-basing in the morning followed by a nice, relaxing cup of Earl Gray. No milk to be found anywhere these days unfortunately, so naturally, my chosen breakfast beverage is Earl Gray where the only requirement is hot water and the right mix of tea which admittedly is getting a touch trickier to find.
Guns are all well and good but in England there just weren't enough and the ammo ran out pretty quickly. Plus it takes quite a bit of practice to get a headshot unlike a cricket bat. Because just a good old thump and those heads crack open like a walnut at Christmas, spreading a beautiful shower of brains. And how I miss Christmas in front of a roaring fire, passing the port, chatting to Aunt Maude. Especially as I had to crack Auntie Maude's skull open after she'd eaten Uncle Cuthbert. Still, the old boy was getting a touch senile and his flatulence was approaching unbearable so on balance, probably all for the better.
And admittedly, I do look a little strange in the 15th Century suit of armour I've borrowed rather permanently from the Tower of London's rather extensive collection. I know at the time it seemed to be a strange choice and even today I still get a few odd looks but it's better to be mocked by a hundred than carried by six and let's face it, the zombie apocalypse is a rather odd situation.
There was that one rather awkward time when I was knocked over and had a hundred zombies breaking their teeth on my metal carapace which ended up in some sort of giant, toothless, zombie sucking session. Unable to get up for a full day, I felt like a giant, zombie lollipop and the amount of dribble generated was, it has to be said, mildly unnerving. Plus my rescuers will never, ever let me forget this rather embarrassing incident once they'd chopped their way to me. And it did take them a fair while to stop laughing.
But it worked. So no-one's laughing now or at least, no-one alive. And when we charge into battle on our armoured steeds, I'm no longer Sam the slightly eccentric accountant. Now, I'm Sam, king of the round table, laying waste to all around me like a knight full of honour and dash. Or Sam the sucker as some of my fellow survivors like to refer to me. | We found the source on the second floor, an ancient Japanese full plated armour shimmering with unnatural blue light, we then press forward still in our diamond formation, checking every corner for walkers.
On closer inspection, this armour is the type that samurais' wore back in the days. Except this one had blue digital codes running all across it.
"They're codes, binary codes" said Kyle "that's not normal."
"Yeah no shit Einstein" replied Sally.
Then I reached out to touch it, and then..., it struck like lighting, words and images flooded my eyes, it was like information being uploaded straight to my head, then just before I black out from the sheer intensity, I muttered "thi...this isn't the first apocalypse..." | 2020-09-14T09:46:15 | 2020-09-14T09:05:00 | 36 | 23 |
[WP] You, a low rank adventurer who got stuck with the gardener class, have to put up with the higher ranked adventures trampling your garden and making fun of you. One day a famous adventurer trips on one of your plants and dies. Your level skyrockets. No other gardener has ever leveled up before. | Plants feed on the fallen. The soil from which they grow is rich with the nutrients of the dead. The energy of the daisy, the shrub, the towering oak is not destroyed in death. It is passed along through the dirt to be absorbed by the next in line.
I knew a similar cycle applied to us. We adventurers, with our ordained classes, our inborn gifts. I knew the raw powers of the killed passed on to the killer. I knew "greatness" was a pretty word heroes used to describe the piles of corpses they left in their wakes.
"I would love more power," I whispered to my nightshades as I watered them under the yellow moon. "But it's not worth what it costs. The killing. The blood. I'd rather be a humble gardener than have all those deaths weighing on my conscience. I'd rather be weak than vile."
I reached one hand up toward the yellow moon and with the other I coaxed the plant. As I hummed and focused the lunar energies, little buds began to open and bloom from the limb of my nightshade.
I sat back, exhausted. I wiped the sweat from my brow. Accelerating the life of even a small plant left me drained.
"You're so weak, you're not even worth the killing," said a voice behind me.
I started. "Thank you, sir," I gasped. I felt like a mouse being watched by a viper. "I am weak. I know it."
"Pitiful, too," the hero announced. "Do you know the man to whom you are speaking?"
"I have a guess."
"I am Halodin the Unbroken," he said.
"Yes," I said. "There were rumours you would pass by our humble town. I am honoured to be in your presence, sir."
"Ha! And I am disgraced to be in yours. Such is the way of the world."
I did not turn to look at him. Many claimed that he killed any who gazed upon his face, while others claimed that his form was so magnificent the mere sight of it struck the looker dead. Whichever was true, I did not want to find out.
"Look up," he commanded. "At the moon. Now."
I did as commanded. I felt the power emanating from him, behind me. I watched as that full, yellow moon gradually darkened, faded from view, like during an eclipse. And one by one, the stars began to dim as well, winking out of existence until the sky was a perfect blackness.
I could not see a thing.
"You have the power to siphon moonbeams to make your little plants grow," he sneered. "Yet your pathetic powers are enough to keep you content. Meanwhile, I can blot the moon from the sky with ease. But for me, my powers are nothing. Nothing. I'll never understand you wretches, content to simper and bow. Living on your knees. No ambition or pride. Despicable."
I heard him walking past me, his powerful feet sinking into my garden's dirt. I heard the stalks of plants cracking and breaking with each of his indifferent strides.
The world was pitch black. I could not see him. Nevertheless, I closed my eyes, just in case.
"Thank you for sparing my life," I squeaked.
"You call this a life?" he laughed over his shoulder as he strode.
"And watch out, Sir Halodin, for the well of despair!" I sputtered. "The magical pit in the middle of my garden! It was created by one of the Ancients, and boasts a powerful charm. To trip and fall would mean certain death for any man, no matter how powerful."
The hero laughed and continued marching through the darkness, stomping on and through whatever plants he pleased. I imagined how wonderful it would feel to get revenge on someone like him. I imagined how glorious it would feel to put him in his place. To punish him for how he had treated me, for how all of them had treated me.
I dug my fingers into the dirt. I imagined a root slithering up from the dirt to catch his foot. . .
I heard the frustrated growl, then the echoed cry, growing more distant as its source plummeted through those enchanted depths.
Then silence.
The shadow lifted from the moon, the stars. I could see my garden again. And though I could not see Sir Halodin, I could feel him, his power. No longer behind me or before me, but within me. Coursing through my body and soul.
I nodded at the dirt beneath my feet and shot into the sky on the top of a tree; it grew taller and taller, like a spire, until I stood perched hundreds of feet above the surrounding land. With a lazy sweep of my hand, a dense and terrible forest rose for miles in the direction of my gesture.
"The earth is a garden," I laughed, tears streaming down my cheeks. "The earth is *my* garden. It is mine." | *"Grandor the Grand dies in freak garden accident"* read the headline of the newspaper clenched in one of the bandits grubby hands as they walked down the road.
"You seen this shit, Fik? It says that hard bastard got himself killed falling into a patch of some herbs it turned out he was fatally allergic to. You couldn't make this shit up."
"Good for us I say" replied Fik, " couldn't go anywhere near the townships here because of him always flying in on his stupid fucking horny horse..."
"It's a Unicorn Fik"
"Whatever, it always looked at me weird. Either way I'm glad he's gone. Shame we couldn't have been near at the time. Bet he was worth a lot of XP."
"...I thought it was really pretty..."
The bandits continued on down the road between towns until they came upon what looked like a mound of gardening equipment with legs.
"Excuse me gents." said the mound as it tried to edge around the two men as they stopped and stared. A small shovel fell off the top and clanged onto the ground, dislodging a gardening fork and a series of pots which soon followed it.
"Blast!" Muttered the voice, which turned out to be gnomish looking man with ruddy cheeks, wire rimmed glasses and a frustrated expression as he craned his head around the pile. "Don't suppose you could oblige and get me those?" arching an eyebrow at them.
"Tell you what" Fik replied "How about you give us all the gold you're carrying and we don't fucking kill you?". His companion drew out a rather unfriendly sized dagger and began to wave it in a lazy arc to illustrate his point.
"Look gents, I'm just a gardener, you think I've got anything worth taking? Just let me by, please."
"Well if you don't got no gold, then we can always take the XP and sell your shit." Replied Fik, beginning to advance on the unlucky gardener.
The gardener let out a sigh, looking decidely unafraid of his current situation. The bandits stopped and looked on as he set his pile of equipment down, before carefully pulling out a pair of gardening gloves and what looked like a... magic wand with a tiny spade on the end of it.
"Didn't want to do this boys, but you leave me no choice and I guess I do need some more mulch for the carnivorous roses." He waved the tiny spade in the direction of Fiks companion. "Ah, watermelon for lunch I see."
The bandit suddenly exploded, viscera and bone showering over the now horrified and screaming Fik, "Noooo, REGINALD!" he cried.
Where he was now rested a fully grown watermelon plant, heavily laden with fruit.
"You see, now that I've got the XP from that unfortunate accident in my garden the other day I'm the first high level gardener in all the realms and turns out those druid pussies ain't got shit on me." | 2021-10-04T16:23:08 | 2021-09-10T01:34:41 | 1,001 | 19 |
[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. | It was 4:45 in the afternoon and I knew I was going to be late but I really wanted to finish the documentary. It was called “A brief History: The Extra-Capable”. Brief History was my favorite channel, most of what they covered was relevant and sometimes even useful.
Apparently by their latest counts there’s over a billion of us now AND they finally found the exact mutation that caused us to come about in the first place. That was exciting and a little nerve racking since normies still outnumbered is seven to one I’m sure it’ll have ramifications throughout society. It’s already bad enough that you have to register with the PPDEC (powered people’s department of the extra-capable), more commonly known as Peedics, if you’re ever caught using or having any abilities.
Over all the Peedics themselves weren’t all that terrible but due to bounty hunter laws and a whole lot of lobbying the whole “Hero vs Villain” trope became a reality. Since I came from a family of nobles and way back when there was just enough….keeping it in the family…for the mutation to occur everyone in my family for generations on my moms side has had some sort of ability. Unfortunately due to being a little bit of a rebel with entirely too much attitude I landed myself on the registry and not on the side of the hero’s.
Thankfully one of my cousins was an awfully good lawyer that still owed me one for helping them get a sports scholarship despite their only extra powers being to tell when someone’s lying. Still, getting on that list was the beginning of a life long trail of bad luck and misunderstandings. I used my powered to make a bunch of money in my youth that paid for the startup of a few small businesses, but I always had passion in being a performer. Too ugly to be an actor, and my voice was a little too nasally for standup comedy I figured I’d enjoy my time playing the part of the label I was given at 18.
Now I’m in my late 30’s, run the most visited late night coffee shop “Camera Free Coffee”, a special suit fabrication company for the extra capable “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tailor”, and a small time construction company for ex convicts “Lessen Learned Renovation”. Oh, and in my spare time I harass Heroes and just generally toe the line between terrorism and technically legal for funsies.
After finishing the documentary and heading out for some afternoon taunting of the newbies that just got into town and playing dumb so they’d let me go after a lecture or two I did my rounds between the businesses.
In stark contrast to my personal behavior I was a very serious employer. Every one of my employees mattered to me and I personalized all of their schedules and benefits packages to best fit them while still turning a profit in the business. I genuinely care about those who choose to work for me.
That only made it all the most heartbreaking when the next day I went to check on the progress of my Lessen Learned crews work after they’d all gone home and seen the place look completely ransacked. Everything was either destroyed or missing. I would come in tomorrow when they were all supposed to be here to talk to them.
The Tailor was just around the block from my favorite place in the whole world, the coffee shop, and I passed by it every day except today. Today it was missing in its entirety. Literally gone. Wall to wall the building wasn’t there as if it had been ripped from its foundation and thrown into another dimension. This reminded me of one of the idiot new Peedic heros “never was man” stupid name but apparently he had very specific reality manipulation capabilities and was pretty salty about not being made a class B hero. I jogged to the coffee shop now worried about what might be happening there.
I had at least one extra-capable on staff at all my businesses, except the coffee shop. There, every single employee has some sort of extra capability.
It was a massacre.
Reporters across the street trying to get any information they could and police were taking statements, mostly from the smug hero’s that tried saying my staff attacked them. I had 14 employees. Four survived and only one was uninjured. Jasmine was okay, but she wasn’t fine. Only one hero was injured and it was that almost B rank one that must’ve gone on a rampage because of my antics.
Jasmines only power is called damage swap. After she’s injured to a certain extend in exchange for her experience double the pain she’s able to transfer the injuries to the next person that touches her. She tried being a hero. She couldn’t mentally handle it with the powers she had.
She told me what happened as I wrapped a blanket around her, careful not to touch her directly in case there was anything wrong that I couldn’t see. I wasn’t careful enough. I grazed her ear and was immediately bombarded with the mental trauma of what happened in excruciating detail. She screamed and passed out, probably for the best.
She wouldn’t want to see what happens next. | 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." | 2022-11-29T00:16:04 | 2022-11-28T23:57:38 | 49 | 34 |
[WP] Humans have left Earth to explore the universe. Millions of years later they return, only to find a new sentient species, who've been waiting for whoever came before them.
A "family reunion", as it were, is my idea for the prompt - but do it however you wish. :) | We called her Earth; millions of years ago she birthed humanity and gave rise to my descendants. Men and women who vowed to leave behind the place we called home in order to explore the universe. We searched far and wide, from our home in the Milky Way to the farthest galaxy we could find. Humanity traveled, built great ships from the Earth herself, and we learned the secrets of the universe. Ultimately, we created life, and then we decided to return home.
It was a long journey back, as humanity stretched across the universe our population exploded. But once the call to return home was made, we receded into ourselves. We began to return to our roots, one galaxy at a time. We left our gifts for our descendants to find and we returned to her. To Earth. What we found on the planet we left void was something we never expected.
We were alone in the universe. After millions of years of searching we knew that to be true. In our arrogance, we created life where there was none and left it to grow. In our naivety, we used all of Earth to leave her behind. We destroyed her oceans, burned her forests, and melted her ice caps. We left in her ruin all those years ago, thinking that life could no longer exist on her. But time has a funny way of proving even the most powerful creatures in the universe wrong.
Time has a way of fixing the mistakes we made.
_____
I sat in the observation deck of my starship. As the Captain of the vessel and the leader of one of the last Cultivator ships in the universe, I was in charge of leading my people back home. We would meet up with the six other Cultivators, and we would enter hibernation. We would wait, millions of years if need be, for our children to evolve. To us, humans that were old as some of the planets themselves, we would wait as long as we needed.
I meditated often in the observation deck as the ship sailed through the black space between galaxies; it was an important aspect of our lives now. Meditating gave us peace in the eternal darkness of space, one humanity had learned to conquer years ago. But now, I meditated before we reached Earth. I needed to clear my mind before we saw our home again. It had been millions of years since we left. I was happy to see her again.
"Captain," a voice emerged from the speakers, "we are approaching Earth."
I broke my concentration and opened my eyes. In front of us was Pluto, a planet that once housed hundreds of thousands of humans, the first galactic explorers. And my idols. They were long gone, but their legacy remained. Pluto, however, had devoured their engines and their creations long ago. Now, it was a barren planet, no trace of humanity remained.
I stood up slowly from my meditating position. By now, the entire ship would be awake. All four thousand of my brothers and sisters would be staring out their windows, looking at the planets of our ancestors as we made our final approach home. I longed to see my fellow Captains again, the six other leaders of the last members of humanity.
In no time at all, we had passed the other planets. Neptune, which still remained even through humanity's mining. Uranus, whose cloud cities were the apex of man at one time. Saturn, whose ring of asteroids was void and barren due to our asteroid mining. Jupiter, once a great gas planet now a piece of rock floating through space; humanity needed resources to leave the solar system. And Mars, whose terraformed surface was no barren and devoid of life.
Then Earth, once a great blue and green planet that had turned to dust. A planet that once housed humanity but was ruined by our engineering and creation of...
"Captain, are you seeing this?"
"I am." I spoke softly as I stepped forward towards the wall of the observation deck. When we left Earth it was nothing but a shell of itself. A once thriving world that we had killed in our efforts to travel the stars. When we left Earth she was red and dead.
Now, her green forests had returned to her, her blue oceans flowed endlessly behind her white clouds and her ice sheets; her ice sheets had returned to her. "Begin scanning of the planet," I said, knowing full well my crew was listening.
"Scanning commencing."
I stared at her, thinking back to the moment when I left her. When my Captain told me the story of Earth and her days as a planet full of life. I never saw her in her prime, I was created at the tail-end of our Earth-walking days, the last generation that walked the Earth. But now, she was healthy again. Now, Earth was alive.
"We have heat signatures all over the planet, Captain. We are identifying many as indigenous life forms, animals mostly, but heavy concentrations in certain areas of the planet."
"Go on."
"Radio waves are fresh, a few days old. We are detecting *several* artificial satellites circling the planet."
"Artificial satellites," I said, "we haven't seen those in a long time."
"We are also detecting many artificial constructions on the planet itself."
"As in?"
"Buildings, Captain."
"By Earth herself, she cultivated life again."
"Sir?"
"Return us to our old outpost on Mars, inform the other Captains that we will meet there."
"I do not understand, sir."
I stared at Earth for a moment and then smiled, "We were the exception in the universe brother. Earth created us in her prime, and in the time we have been gone, she has grown healthy again." I turned from Earth and began to walk towards the lift, "Another race has been birthed on Earth." I activated the lift and glanced back at her again, "I intend to find out if they know they are not alone."
______
*Great prompt! I absolutely loved this.*
*You can check out more of my stories, in particular a [story](https://www.reddit.com/r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs/comments/3upra3/the_antecedents_series/) about humanity being the only sapient race in the universe (I paired it up with this story), over at my subreddit, /r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs!* | Danny peered through the window of his cruiser to view the world outside. Trees as tall as mountains towered over the landscape. He could make out bridges and buildings strewn across the gaps between the trees. On the ground, he saw an assembly of creatures. Three legged beings with arched backs that had two arms and what looked like an elongated head that came to a sharp point.
He wasn’t too sure what to make of them, but from the way they simply stood outside of his ship, he figured that they at least weren’t hostile. The books in his library never mentioned anything about other creatures that were capable of civilization residing on earth. *First time for everything I guess.*
With a firm tap of his fist, the bay door lowered itself to the ground. Danny took in a lungful of air and experienced smells completely foreign to him. His mind buzzed with excitement as he tried to categorize them: some were sweet, others felt woody and mellow.
As he took in the world around him, one of the beings approached him and extended a hand. Danny was confused, at first, by what the being was trying to do.
The creature then spoke. Danny looked at his voice analyzer and it found an instant match: English. Turning on his translator, “Hello. Who *are* you?”
All four of the creature’s eyes went wide with astonishment as it understood the words. “We have been waiting for your kind to return, human.”
Danny’s HUD indicated to him that the creature was attempting to perform an ancient greeting with by shaking his hand. With a firm grasp, he noted that their hands were a lot colder and scaly than they appeared.
“Well, I’m here,” Danny said, “though you won’t find much of anyone else around these parts.”
The creature stared at him.
“So … I’ll be honest, I didn’t really expect there to be anyone living here anymore.”
“We grew from the ashes of your civilization. Learning from your mistakes, building upon your knowledge. We found you to be beings of incredible imagination. Come now, we must begin the celebration.”
Without letting go, the creature pulled Danny along.
“Whoa, wait a minute. What celebration? And could you please let go?” He immediately felt the creature let go and he rubbed his hand. “Thanks. What’s your name by the way?”
“I am Ee’tentil, the great scholar of this village.” Turning back around, the creature led him along the path. “As for the celebration, you will see.”
As they passed by one of the trees, Danny could see a vast metal structure protruding from the side of the trunk. Zooming in, his HUD categorized it as an ancient human structure called a skyscraper.
After hours of walking and climbing, Danny was at the top of one of the smallest trees. At the center was a metal barrel and around it were evenly spaced seats that radiated outwards. The creature had asked Danny to wait inside what appeared to be some sort of lean-to. In the meantime Danny uploaded all of the data to his ship and directed it to uplink it to the inter-galactic archive. *They have to see this, these … things … are incredible!*
As night fell, the full moon shined bright in the cloudless sky. When Danny finally got to step outside, he noticed that all the seats were filled. Ee’tentil took him to the center, “If you could, could you please stand atop this?” gesturing towards the barrel.
“Uh, sure.”
Danny wasn’t too sure what was going to happen, but he figured that he could just call for his ship if he was in danger.
“Human,” Ee’tentil spoke, “you now stand trial for the abandonment of Earth, leaving it crippled and desolate.”
*Aww hell no.* Danny reached to press the S.O.S. beacon but found his movement suddenly restricted. Looking up, the entire forest lit up with lights as he could see millions of these creatures flying about the ground. His hands and legs became bound by some unknown force and all of his equipment began to short circuit.
Danny began speaking out, seemingly pleading to the creatures continued but stopped when he noticed the creatures tilting their heads.
The village Chief asked “What is the human saying?”
“I’m not too sure,” replied Ee’tentil, “but I do hope it will be able to answer our questions, for its sake.”
| 2015-12-20T13:45:33 | 2015-12-20T10:09:37 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] A traveling alien passes by and on a whim solves everything: infinite food, energy, perfectly balanced ecosystem, and portals everywhere lead to thousands of unpopulated Earth like lands with no downside. Obviously, world leaders are outraged. | "Today is the dawn of a new day," POTUS spoke and the two journalists still in the room yawned in sequence. There were a handful of secret service agents who still feigned loyalty, but they were nowhere to be seen at the moment. The President stepped away from the podium and sighed, "We're having lunch in the White House dining room if you'd like to join. I think the kitchen staff still has a pretty decent chef, but we don't have any servers so it's a buffet."
Levy Arnold and Jessica Klein followed behind POTUS as they travelled to the smallest buffet they'd ever witnessed. As mentioned, the food wasn't half bad, but it was strange to see it lined up in aluminum over burners. The paper plates were fine, and the plasticware was just a reminder of the lack of environmental friendliness that humanity had once abundantly supplied the Earth.
It didn't matter anymore, as POTUS had mentioned, it was the dawn of a new day. A few months earlier, humankind had made first contact with an alien species. Clever, witty, charming and sensual, these creatures were the highest combination of standard, effortless beauty, brawn and brains. In essence, there was no stopping them as they offered solutions to the world's worst problems.
No one needed universal healthcare when the universe would voluntarily heal the wounded and cure the sick. No one needed roads to be maintained or sidewalks to be fixed because people had gained an ability to fly. We didn't even need to be concerned by sharks or other deadly sea creatures because we now had the ability to hold our breath infinitely, swim like the fastest naval vessels, and adjust indefinitely to pressures above and below sea level. We didn't even freeze in space, or at the poles because we could resist cold or heat with protective bubbles. These were just things that we could now do physically.
We no longer hungered or overate, and lived in peace with our natural resources. We had limitless energy sources for any and all projects, technical or otherwise. And more than that, our resources now expanded to many Earths all across the known universe. It was as if the perfect solutions to all of mankind's ailments had been applied and for all intents and purposes the world was completely changed.
Every world leader who stayed behind was left with an emptiness in their empires, and their sadness, though temporary, was no longer the concern of their constituents. In fact, the number of constituents had so decreased that many of the world's leaders simply took off and joined their families and friends in discovering the new worlds.
Not POTUS, as she was sure it was all a trick and that everyone would soon return. After two hundred years of waiting, she joined her cousins and her wife and children on an Earth they called Fordish. It represented all the things they missed and everything they loved, and was a beautiful place to live.
Edit: Earth's to Earths.... | We’d been wondering about it for decades - media, conspiracies, sightings of extra terrestrials - always assuming they would destroy our Earth even worse than we already had. We’d all read War of the Worlds, we all knew how this was supposed to end. Except... it didn’t. The exact opposite, actually. Everything was perfect. And people were not happy.
Trump’s tweets of climate change and fake news turned into fearmongering strategies to pit humanity against each other. Third world countries, free from all oppressive environmental factors, began having a strong voice internationally. With no need to think about famine, poverty, energy sources, global warming, our efforts were focused on finding another way to profit.
America began populating the new lands, building in record-timing. 70-story skyscrapers built in weeks time, leveling of lands overnight for more cities. Planet Trump became the new Disneyworld and while, seemingly, everything was perfect humans had managed to destroy everything once before... | 2019-06-06T10:17:49 | 2019-06-06T10:06:23 | 28 | 14 |
[WP] Whenever you speak, people hear you speaking in their native language. Most people are surprised and delighted. The cashier at McDonalds you've just talked to is horrified. "Nobody's spoken that language in thousands of years." | The man behind the counter froze in the middle of typing out my order. They looked up at me wide eyed and said,"Nobody's spoken that language in thousands of years." Sounding somewhat surprised.
That night, standing in the empty 24/7 McDonald's of our small desert town, it finally happened. The thing that I had been waiting for for my entire life, and had a feeling would happen eventually.
"Shit. You're an alien?" I said more worried about making a good impression than running away.
They responded with a look of 'are you kidding me' before dryly stating "what else would I be?" and they quickly regained their compsure.
I was struggling to hold back my enthusiasm.
They did not seem as amused by the encounter and they were actually starting to get concerned. "Uh... Is everything alright there? You look like you are about to piss yourself." They went back to typing.
My mind ran at a thousand miles an hour, as the cashiers words flew over my head.
"Oh my God! Is the name on your tag your real name? How'd you get here? Wait how long have you lived here? I mean in this town not just, you know, on the planet. " This went on for about half an hour. It stopped when the cashier stuffed a burger in my mouth while I was lost in the nervice tidal wave.
They said a single word " Eat." and that was that.
I sat down at a table and began to nibble away at my fries. The cashier disappeared around a corner for a minute or so before returning to sit across from me. The taste of food suddenly reminded me that I had forgotten to have lunch and dinner that day, due to getting cought up in fixing my car's engine.
He sat down with the chair facing backwards to so he could lean forward with out touching the sticky table. He said "I don't know what the deal is with you, but I am going to have to ask where you learned to speak like that. Because you are obviously just one very confusing human being."
While going to town on the burger I said "don't know. I was sort of born with this weird super power to communicate really fucking well. Almost like mind reading but without the mind reading. I honestly don't know what language I am speaking in most of the time unless somebody either tells me or they say something very specific to that tounge." I stop to drink a sip of soda. The cashier, whom I just then noticed had 'Stanly' on his name tag, showed a visable confusion drawn on to his face like a sudden migraine. He muttered something. He muttered 'God damn it, Jax I told you not to go sleeping around.' I think. Muttering isn't an exact language. Stanly sighed and asked "would there by any chance be a rumour in your family that somebody anybody met an alien?"
I finnished off my burger not fully grasping the situation, "Not that I know of. Why?"
Stanly mumbled to himself again and said " I don't have any easier way to break the news to you, kid. Someone in your family line has... engaged in some cross breeding."
I choked on my drink, "what?!"
Stanly continued "Your powers are a knockoff version of my races abilities to process information."
"I just thought I had autism."
I guess this was not Stanly's best night. He paused to figure out what to say next.
He then hesitantly said " I wouldn't... rule that out entirely. The weight of this really doesn't seem to be, um... Regestaring correctly."
I gave an understanding nod an said "Ya, that tends to happen a lot. I'm getting better though." (I only realised two days later that I had been drinking my soda very obnoxiously. )
I drank some more of my sprite.
Stanly tried to get back on track. He said "Right... How would you like to meet your something far back grandfather?"
| I entered the store,the fresh smell of grease and soggy fries flooding my nose. How the workers endured the smell for more then fifteen minutes I have no clue,not that it mattered to me but it was always the first thing I thought of when I entered.
A few seconds later my nose had adjusted to the smell and so I walked up to the register,a friendly voice spoke in the usual zombified teenage cashier tone. You know the one. “hi,what can I get for you?” I glanced up at the menu for a second,processing all the items, I had decided I was going to get something different to usual but now I was actually ordering? “Uhh. Just a large cheeseburger menu. Meal. I mean meal”
I had tripped over my words. Fantastic. This was honestly not that rare for me. Usually the worker would ignore the mistake and move on... but she was just staring, at first I thought it may have been my clothes or my hair,maybe I had something in my teeth? No no,nothing about me was any different to usual. It took me a second to think about how I spoke. See,I have this odd trick. No matter what language I speak people only hear me in their native tongue. I realised she must’ve been taken aback by this.
It was just after I realised all this she spoke “no one has spoken in that language in thousands of years. It is forbidden to my people” what? What had she said? Forbidden? I tilted my head a little and apologised “sorry,I don’t understand? I asked if I could have a large cheeseburger meal.” her facial expression turned to disgust and she stepped back.
Had I offended her somehow?
Tears began running down her face and she ran out,a coworker yelling for her to come back. Everyone watched and the place went quiet. I began to consider chasing her. The restaurant was making me slightly nauseous,ill admit that but I didnt feel like getting involved in anything today. My conscience got the better of me,I felt bad for making her cry. I started running after her,each foot moving slightly faster then the last. | 2018-06-24T20:39:44 | 2018-06-24T20:22:38 | 41 | 25 |
[WP] You accidentally kill a person. You instantly absorb all of their memories, intelligence, and talents. You find it feels euphoric and quite addicting. | Beer bottles and pizza boxes were scattered across the room. My phone had a dozen messages and as many missed calls from worried friends who hadn't seen me except online in a week.
They wouldn't understand.
I couldn't get it out of my head. The rush, the endorphins - it was the highest high I'd ever had. No games, no sports, no alcohol or drugs from college, nothing touched it.
Beer and games and pizza, anything that shut down my mind with these memories that weren't mine. I needed to stop thinking, because thinking inevitably led to that moment.
Honestly though, a mugger? Targeting me? I guess I'm not poor. I could afford this week of food and booze. But why me? I didn't have any cash. My coat's not that nice. I was just walking in the cold. But then that knife. It was dark out, but somehow it glinted anyways. I thought that was a camera trick in movies or whatever, but Jesus that blade caught any light around when he held it out.
Really I just pushed him. I pushed him and it was snowing and icy and he slipped. A simple slip that's all. Straight backwards, and *crack* - his head against the concrete. Maybe in a field the blood and the snow would look poetic, but there, in the muddy slush, it just looked like rusty iron.
But then the sensation. Like I was drawing the life from that opening in his skull. Like I was drinking it. He was great at tool and die work I found out. But everything went to shit with the Big Three folding here in Michigan. Lost his job, never told his wife. Just took to the streets eight hours a day - panhandling, petty thieving, shoplifting for presents. Whatever worked. Until today. Poor woman. What a way to find out.
Someone had called the cops, and they found me there staring at him five minutes later. Said I was in shock, gave me a shiny blanket. That whole deal. Took my statement, and that of the witness who called. The whole thing seemed cut and dry. No charges pressed anywhere said the police. The family I'm sure is mourning.
Me? I've got the shakes. Bad. Worse than the line of coke I did once. My neighbor's some kinda cleaning person for crime scenes. They told me about it once. Pretty up a house so it's liveable again. Fix up a workplace so people will come back, maybe forget in a while.
I never learned how to use a press, but I'm sure I could do it now after the last guy.
Damn it. I knew I shouldn't let myself think. | It wasn't intentional when I pulled the trigger on that rifle that I killed a man. Originally I was aiming for a Buck, but this idiot went and wore camoflague *'because it'll never see me coming.'*
My original though trailed off as I got an epiphany... This man was a father on his last legs trying to feed his family. He has a cabin a dozen miles north-north-west of here. I know because he's been tracking this kill for a few hours. I also know he married a bombshell of a wife and has a grandfather who served in several wars.
I lick my lips. He checked the mirror this morning and we're pretty similar... just need to dye my hair and cut an inch off and she might never know the difference.
Even if she did, I know exactly where they keep their weapons. | 2017-12-08T06:35:26 | 2017-12-08T05:56:51 | 409 | 128 |
[WP] You live in a country where murder is legal - The catch is, it has to be declared a week in advance. The aggressor has to wait the full week, but the victim may begin defending themselves immediately upon receiving notice. While a legitimate threat is legal, a false one is very much not. | "Hey Ron. So, uh, you know why I called you? You know, the Information Act."
"Yes, Mr. Lipton." Ron knew all about the new bill that passed five days ago, supported by lunatics and other lunatics with deeper pockets. Just scare tactics for rich people, they said. "Did someone send you a notice?"
"Oh no, nothing like that." Lipton replied as he struggled to say the next words. "I, uh, want to send a notice myself."
"Alright..." Ron trailed off as he acknowledged the awkwardness. His mild-mannered client wasn't usually the type who wanted someone taken care of. Worst he could do making insider investments for home security. "Uh, who are you sending it to?"
"Ed Hurley! I want to send it to Ed Hurley!" Lipton replied with exasperation as Ron was stunned by his tone. Ron knew Ed well. His client's business rival was someone he dealt with from the numerous legal battles that were going on. It was becoming personal. Too personal. Lipton took a deep breath before returning to his mild tone. "Sorry I shouted, Ron. It's either him or me first. Do or die."
Ron sighed. "Alright Mr. Lipton, as long as you do a week before then you're oka-."
"No, no, that's the thing." Lipton interjected. "I just learned that Ed's going to be flying somewhere exactly a week from now. It's a pretty long flight but he's gonna cross the International Date Line and the date is gonna go back and then it won't be a week from now and -"
"Settle down Mr. Lipton". Ron sighed again. Mr. Lipton's panicking had often made his job more difficult, even if he does pay handsomely. "I got a copy of the Information Act myself. Says here in **Section 55c:** ***Persons who fails to inform the affected party at least 168 hours before an act of homicide are liable to criminal prosecution.***"
"I don't follow." Lipton replied as Ron placed his palm on his forehead in mild frustration.
"Okay, you see that it says 168 hours right?" Ron explained as he would a five-year old. "It doesn't matter what line he crosses. If he flies 164 hours before you send the notice and he lands 5 hours after, you add them up. 164 plus 5 is 169, also known as over one week."
"What about the notice?" Lipton asked with a desperate tone. "I send him a letter, then he wises up, cancels his flight, and hides somewhere. Then I'm screwed and the law goes after me."
Ron began flipping through some pages as Lipton waited with anguish. "Okay Mr. Lipton. **Section 21b:** ***A person shall be criminally punished in the event in which a written notice for an act by said person directed at the affected recipient has not be fulfilled*****.**"
Lipton paused in confusion as his lawyer realized he overestimated his client's legal literacy. "Written notice." Ron explained. "Written. Notice. Section 21b doesn't talk about what happens if you just make a verbal threat with a phone call. You kill him, good. You fail to kill him, I could argue your way out and you'll probably be off on a technicality."
"You sure?" Lipton asked with a puzzled face. "Wouldn't it be safer to just write to him anyway?"
"Mr. Lipton, I want to be frank." Ron replied as politely as he could. "You're not going to kill someone being a law-abiding citizen. You're calling me right now to ask if you have a way out and I've just handed you a hastily written law with holes like Swiss cheese just waiting to be exploited. So before those loaded politicians have time to rethink their legacy and flip, the window of opportunity is still open. Just call him now. And as you said. Do or die."
Ron waited for an answer as his client did some soul searching. It was fine being paid by the hour but it was also two in the morning. Finally, Lipton replied, "Alright, I'll call him soon. I'll find a guy to take care of business. Thanks Ron, you've been of great help-" Ron quickly hung up as he went straight to bed. He's done his work for the night.
…
The next morning, Ron woke from his late slumber as his alarm made a deafening ring. Picking up his phone and scrolling through the news, an article piqued his interest. It wasn't so much the headline as it was the featured image of his client's home in smoldering ashes with Lipton perishing in it. Police believed it was a faulty wire that his client never bothered to maintain. But Ron knew that Ed was behind it. After all, Lipton's phone lines were already wired with incendiaries, ready to activate as soon as he called Ed's number. Just as planned.
As Ron examined the massive cheque in his drawer, he laid on his bed, grinning about that loophole among loopholes.
*There's no need to notify an accident.* | "Mornin' Gary, nice day out isn't it.", Paul said as he sat on his porch. Gary continued for the paper at the end of the driveway, not stopping to hear Paul's weekly curse. Paul Picked back up, "I Paul Patrick Parley declare to murder you one week from today on October the 3rd, 1975."
Paul rocked in his chair, with oversized boots, a straw hat, and blue jean with suspenders riding over the pressed collared shirt. Gary saluted Paul with paper in hand and did an about-face. He grinned his teeth and slumped back to the house.
"I'm serious this time, Gary. I'm coming for ya. The other few times I told you that I was ready but what you did to my cousin must be avenged." Paul said as Gary came to a halt.
His hand clenched the paper, pointed right towards Paul, and followed his hand around to face him as well. Gary opened up into something fierce, "Paul, it's been 4 fuckin' months! Your Cousin killed my brother and you know he deserved it. And you know what, I was ready for you to do it. I was ready. I was waiting around here just accepting my fate. I was never going to try to defend myself. Why don't you just do it right now and get it over with?"
"Can't. Ain't been a week yet." Paul replied.
"You know what then if you won't fucking do it then I will. I Gary George Gooth declared to Murder you on Oct the 4th of 1975." Gary announced.
Gary sat up from his chair. "That is a day after you'll be dead their Gary. Why would you do that to yourself?"
Paul replied, "Because I know you won't do it you've been messing with me for months and I'm sick of it. I can wait an extra day to remove you from my street, my neighborhood my life!"
Gary stomped back inside and Paul pulled back into his rocking chair.
​
\-October the 3rd 1975-
​
Gary opened his front door, pulled a fresh breath of air through his nose, and headed to the paper at the end of the drive. Paul was in his rocking chair like every morning before and gave Gary a sincere wave. Gary had almost forgotten that Paul had given another declaration but shrugged it as quick as it came. Gary in his cofidence decided to read the paper there at the end of the drive.
Minutes of reading the headlines, sifting through the comics, and checking the ad for the hardware store Gary looked up to see Paul missing from his rickety porch. He scratched his head in his red robe and scanned Paul's property.
A deep engine roared in the quiet neighborhood. it grabbed Gary's attention pulling him down the road a few houses. a few intense revs of the engine be Gary heard the car drop into drive. A 69' Mustang, bright red was creating sonic waves as it headed up the road towards Gary's house. Gary stared vividly at the driver as the car turned towards his driveway, pointed right at him. Paul's face in the driver's seat was mad with rage and laughter.
"God damn i..." Gary didn't finish his sentence as his body was blown away into the neighbor's yard by the firey Mustang. The car parked in the middle of the grass, Paul got out and said, "I told you I'd do it, Gary." | 2020-12-03T08:06:00 | 2020-12-03T06:16:10 | 203 | 55 |
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