prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] Starting at age 18, everyone is given a guardian angels. Some have regular people, others have unicorns or demons. You have just been given SCP-173 as your guardian angel. | I carefully made my way down the familiar alley, on my way home from another long day at work. I was humming slightly to myself, going over tomorrow's lesson plan in my head. The kids were probably ready to move on to the next lesson after today's progress. I should probably bring some-
Hands closed around my neck.
With a gasp, I struggled against my attacker, dropping my things and trying to break the grip. My fist managed to connect with a jaw.
The attacker grunted and threw me to the ground hard. "Fucking bitch! Make this easier for yourself and hold still!"
As he grabbed my wrist, there was a scraping sound from behind him.
His shout of surprise was masked by the shriek of his own guardian appearing. He was pushed away from the threat, stumbling, but still on his feet.
"Back away Ìomhaigh," she growled, tail whipping through the air.
There was no response.
"Glè mhath." There was a flash of heat as the fiend summoned a ball of flame and attacked, flooding the alley with light.
*snap*
There was silence, broken only by a sharp inhale from my attacker as the light faded, showing the corpse of his guardian laying on the ground, neck bent sideways.
He fell backwards in horror. "I-how-what is that thing?!"
I was still as the babbling stopped with a *snap*. There was that faint grinding sound again, and then a gentle touch on my head. With a smile, I used her outstretched arm to pull myself back to my feet.
She really was the perfect guardian angel for someone who was blind. | It was finally the big day. Being the 18th birthday Hans was waiting for literally 18 years, it was also the day he would be assigned to his own guardian angel. His birthday was on the last day of the year, and all he could do for the entire year was watch his friends be assigned their very own angel one by one. But now the days of sulking in envy would be over; at this point he didn't care whoever his angel would be, as long as they weren't the devil himself. Hans relaxed himself in the awkwardly positioned seat in the Commune. It would be a while until his name would be called, the Commune was infamous for their lazy bureaucracy. It was 7 in the morning, he had nothing but time to spare.
*"Recipient 1231-56A, your presence is expected at platform B in ten minutes."*
Hans dashed out of his seat, ecstatic that he would be permitted to leave so early. But soon enough the joy drained out of his face as quickly as it rushed in.
"Wrong number, bloody hell..."
He looked at the flashing board above his head one more time; the board said 56A, his receipt said 66. As he slid back into his seat, he took a gaze around him. The Commune surely was a fabulous place, slim architecture and high ceilings that resembled airports. It was reasonable to be so, since the Commune was where angels 'descended' onto Earth.
He couldn't stand the happy faces on the teens leaving the Commune with a guardian in hand. A blonde girl with a puppy angel. A ginger, pompous boy with a white winged, classic angel. Someone even got lucky enough to be assigned a thunder spirit. They would have the whole day to themselves, and their guardians. But Hans' eyes quickly diverted to the other masses of boys and girls his age, drooped over the hard rigid seats on their phones. Some of them were sandwiching themselves around the pillar that had wireless chargers. Hans didn't have a smart phone, his mother wouldn't allow it even if *her* guardian depended on it. It would be a long day.
The hours seemed to whiz by, but Hans knew that time wasn't passing. Every time the broadcasts popped up he flinched, and crouched back in his seat in disappointment. But despite the wait, and the never-ending torture stringing him along, he remained his readied posture. He didn't dare close his eyes to sleep, what if he missed his once-in-a-life opportunity? He had heard countless stories of his friends missing their assignment while watching Youtube videos, and regretting even thinking of bringing a phone to the Commune. How many more chances would they get? None. The guardian angles were a blessing, not a mandatory welfare policy, and if you missed your chance, then tough luck for you.
*"Recipient 1231-56A, your assignment has been terminated. Thank you for coming to the Commune."*
There it goes again, some poor bastard just lost their chance. Hans wondered what it would be like to be a guardian angel, ready for the assignment and just hearing 'they didn't come.'.
And then the realisation came to him. He fumbled in his seat, looking around for the clock. It read 7:10. It really was going to be a long day. | 2018-02-21T09:18:14 | 2018-02-21T06:13:34 | 41 | 15 |
[WP] For 24 hours each year, all cats can break any cat laws without consequences. Welcome to the Purrrge. | This is gonna sound crazy, but I gotta tell you this story about my cat.
I'm out on the back porch the other day, just enjoying the sun, and he walks outside. I call to him, and he sticks his tail flag up like "Yo" but keeps walking. He heads straight for the big wood pile where the chipmunks live. So me, figuring I'm about to see some national geographic shit, I creep up to the edge of the deck for a better look.
He stops a couple feet away from the wood pile, but he's not stalking like usual -- and my cat *loves* to hunt. No, he saunters up all casual. Meows, real loud, real long. Just once, nice and friendly. There's a little trill in it, like he's purring. And then he flops down on his back and shows his belly in the sun.
I was a little bummed that I didn't see him hunt, but I'll get up for some belly rubs, sure. But then, before I could maneuver out of cover, one of the chipmunks pokes his little nose out of the wood pile. He stands, sniffing, and my cat is still on his back doing that muffing-making thing in the air. Suddenly he sees the chipmunk... and he meows this quiet little friendly "hi". And then the chipmunk freaking climbs out and up onto kitty's sunny warm belly.
I can't believe it. The chipmunk is up there scratching around like he's trying to dig up a nut. Occasionally he takes a quick roll in the soft tummy fur. Another chipmunk appears in the wood pile, and another. Before long, there's a group of tiny critters rolling and scratching and playing in the sunshine of my cat's tummy fur. I can hear him purring from here, and the muffins just won't stop.
Let me just... I can't *believe* this is happening. He's a vicious cat. I've woken up to straight up CSI scenes in my house, head over here, innards over there. But now he's... I mean... *what?*
Eventually a cloud crosses over the sun, and the party scatters back to the wood pile. Kitty rolls over, and with a yawn and a stretch, returns to the house. On his way in he casts me a sidelong glance... like *What? It's Purrrge, baby...*
| 'Let meow-t.' Branston purred.
'No.' I say with my back to the cage.
'Pwetty pwease?'
'You've got enough food and water to last the Purrge.'
It was my third Purrge with Branston, and I was adamant that I would not let him out this time. Year one I had not even locked him up, that in itself was a grave mistake. Year two I had locked him up but not covered the cage, which allowed him to use his cute features to purrsuade me. This year I had him in the basement with a tea-towel draped over his cage.
'It won't be like last year.' Branston said.
'Or the year before?' I add.
'Of course not! I blame the hormones; I was but a kitten!'
'Everyone recommends keeping your cat locked up for the entire duration.'
I can picture Branston's ears folded back and his blinking eyes as he tried to woo me. 'Come on Dan. I'm not just a cat.'
'It's weird when you use my name.'
'Daaan. Let me be me for the remaining twenty hours.'
I walked out of the basement and to a front-facing window, inching back the blinds. Cats seemed to have replaced humans. They walked on two legs, drove cars and even wore clothes.
I snapped the blinds shut. One of them saw me.
A knock sounded at my door, and not for the first time today.
'Sir.' A feline voice said, followed by more knocking. 'I saw you, sir. Do you by any chance live with a cat?'
I cursed under my breath and stayed crouched by the window.
'I don't.' I called.
'Sir, would you mind opening the door?'
'I... I can't.'
'It will only take a moment to check. We wouldn't want anyone missing out on this glorious day, would we?'
'No,' I say 'but we I don't own a cat.'
A fist hit the door hard. 'Nobody *owns* a cat.'
I stayed silent. Ten seconds passed, and then the sound of claws on wood filled my house.
I waited another minute and then straightened up. I breathed a sigh of relief. The sound of a flap opening and closing brought me back to a stark reality. There's a cat in the house.
I crouched low and picked up an umbrella by the front door.
'Sir.' The voice came from my kitchen. 'I am announcing my presence in your home. I come in peace and only wish to search your residence for imprisoned cats.'
I remained quiete and waited by the basement door.
A soundless ginger cat with a missing ear turned the corner and faced me. Its green eyes moved to the umbrella. I brandished the make-shift weapon, but the cat smiled.
'Purrhaps you've made a mistake.'
I shook my head. 'You're not letting him out.'
The cat took two steps forward in its unnatural upright position.
'It's taken me a year to get this place back to normal after the last Purrge!' I'm starting to plead, and my palm is growing sweaty around the wooden umbrella handle.
The cat was on me faster than I could blink. It slipped through my legs and shot up my back. Claws lodged themselves in my flesh, and I dropped my weapon. I clambered with my arms at awkward angles, trying to pry the beast from my back.
I'm not sure what happened next, but I can only assume it had triggered some kind of pressure point because my legs felt weak and I crumpled to the floor.
I watched in horror as the cat sauntered into my basement and re-emerged with Branston who looked at me indifferently.
'Into the cage Dan.' Branston said with a furry smile as he trailed one claw along the wall. 'Don't worry, I'll let you out tomorrow, if I can...'
| 2018-08-22T08:15:02 | 2018-08-22T08:05:42 | 129 | 52 |
[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 held the pistol against Captain Seraph’s forehead.
“What are you gonna do, shoot me?”
The gunshot echoed down 5th and Market. Shrieks, gasps, and then a silence. Her lifeless body fell over an uneven fan of bloodspatter in the middle of the street.
*Let’s let the world know who you really are.*
I knelt down, pulled off her mask, and tossed it aside. Behind the mask was a soft, freckled face, caramel skin, and emerald eyes. I watched as blood seeped out from where the bullet had entered, and streaked down to meet with the pool soaking the concrete.
*She was just a fucking teenager. Just some stupid, reckless kid.*
Standing, I put my gun on safety and looked around. The cars had stopped, civilians were at a distance, either in fear of me or the situation.
“You may carry on with your lives, or you may join her.” | Intellectual disagreement. Through reason one can reach the highest truths. Actions for the greater good. Arriving at the most desired end through the most effective means.
The philosophy of the Zeth'Kan order was a force that could move mountains. Huang Xile was the embodiment of that philosophy as he strode through the arena. He was chosen as the power-wielder of Zeth'Kan. Wielding that power, he now used it to crush the skull of Shere Yuanshan, champion of the Pan'Thak people. Screams of horror arose from the onlookers as they watched their strongest power-wielder fall in the duel. Or at least Huang Xile calculated that horror would be the most likely sentiment. He could not be sure and would therefore not argue the case.
Dropping the limb body of Shere Yuanshan, Huang Xile turned around precisely the moment the rest of the Pan'Thakian power-wielders would be close enough to grasp, yet not close enough to hurt him. The look in their eye changed as he did. Huang Xile estimated it to be due to dismay that their plan had failed. If they had reasoned as he they would have known that it would fail. If they had not split up the power in between all of them they would not have been divided and conquered. If they had reasoned as he they would not build their society upon justice, charity and kindness. If they had reasoned as he their subjective morality would not blind them from the truth.
Huang Xile hoisted the dying breed of power-wielding Pan'Thakians into the air with the power of Zeth'Kan.
"Monster!"
"Slaughterer!"
"Fiend!"
They cursed at Huang Xile before he ended them with a swat of the hand. The duel had been a necessary means to draw out the Pan'Thak elite. The Zeth'Kan order had agreed that it would be the most efficient way of crushing Pan'Thak resistance was to disarm them of their national fervor and create hopelessness among the populace. Should the champions fall, the brothers had estimated it would take 20-30 years to convert them to Zeth'Kan belief with all other factors accounted for.
Huang Xile watched as the Pan'Thak people fled from the arena. It was well that they had chosen to flee and live rather than to resist and die. The order would need every able hand to work their due to summon Zeth into this world. And with the arrival of Zeth, the Zeth'Kan order would finally know the greatest truth.
| 2018-10-18T13:42:07 | 2018-10-18T13:23:54 | 1,098 | 60 |
[WP] In a world where everyone has a superpower, you have the ability to stop time. It is by far one of the strongest abilities, but you decide to hide this power. You disguise your ability as teleportation. | I remember reading a quote growing up .
" No man ever beat Mike Tyson, time did."
That echoed in my mind from the first time I used my powers. Stopping time allowed me to do anything, I could spend literal hours analyzing a situation like I had to in Fukushima.I could go anywhere,do anything. I even became so adept at it I could stop the world around me and let it play in such small sequences I could control anything, do anything.
But no one could know that. If they did it would draw too much attention, they would try to control me, regulate me, use me .
So that's why I'm just sitting here. In this damn crowded room, with the entire world silenced ,still, watching the TV screen as my best friend is about to die. Halfway across the world he is fighting for his life. I should have been there ,but I'm not. Everyone knows I'm at this event. Everyone knows Samson stopped the terrorists in Moscow. And everyone knows he can't really stop that bomb in 6 seconds.
But I could. I can, I must.
I don't care if the world knows I'm the strongest mutant to ever live. I can't live in a world without my friend.
It'll be a long walk , but I have all the time in the world. | “A test!” He exclaimed
“A test?” I asked.
“Of your ability of course!” He said, rubbing his gloved hands together. “I can’t let you wandering about without a true grasp of your powers! You - you could teleport into a bank vault! Put the president on the Moon!”
I chuckled wryly at the idea. I guess I have to sandbag a little for this. The man assessing me, Mr. Golduin, brought me here because The Association had “great interest” in my teleportation abilities. Decked out in a three piece suit, top hat, and a cane to match, he seems like a typical villain. The Dick Dastardly mustache doesn’t help.
“Ooookay” I sighed out, “what should I do?”
I looked around the grand room and see cameras in each top corner. Only one door, the one I entered.
“Oh, nothing too, um, flashy to start” he said with a twirl of his wrist.
“Oh let’s see, teleport from your current spot, fetch that far vase, and bring it back?”
He pointed with his cane to a smallish vase in the corner. Okay, not too bad. I mentally mark my place in the room. I nod, and begin.
You see. I don’t have teleportation abilities. I can freeze time. It’s a preeeety big deal. Ranking-wise, it’s an S-Class, godly ability that trumps ‘em all.
I walked to the vase and back to my spot. Do a little hop and unfreeze time. To the obverser, instant teleportation!
“Remarkable!” Mr. Golduin “That took no time at all!”
He had a stopwatch in his hand. Was he timing me?
“I guess they don’t call it instant teleportation for nothing!” I quipped.
“Yes, yes.” He said wild-eyed and panting.
The association are the good guys, right? They have Captain Marvel as their leader, but this guy was bugging me out.
”Okay,” he said, “next test.”
If I keep he keeps it low grade, this should be a cinch. I smile and nod.
“Oh, before this test,” he said “could you empty your pockets?”
I probably had a dumbest look on my face because what I pulled out was the worst thing I could have. A stopwatch. And it was running.
“Ahhhh, that’s where I put that!”
Mr. Golduin. Mr. Fucking Golduin knew all along. I pause time and bolt for the door. Locked. Search Golduin. No key.
No escape.
I unpause.
Mr. Golduin looks around gleefully, sees me slumped at the door.
“There is no leaving this room.” he said silently retrieving his stopwatch. “A time-smith! I’ve heard the legends, but this! You! In my hands!”
“What are you going to do to me?” I asked.
“Oh,” he chuckled, “What I have in mind for you.” | 2019-01-12T17:22:30 | 2019-01-12T16:09:02 | 50 | 32 |
[WP] Magic suddenly becomes a thing. While governments are scrambling to establish regulations, people defiantly flock to reddit to share new discoveries and crack more “overpowered” spells. Write about a trending post that, for good or ill, is making authorities furious. | **Guys help how do I turn this off?** Posted by u/ reddituser68 2 hours ago
​
Hey guys? You know how I posted yesterday with my Broadway-style-musical-number-spell? All the fun we were having with it? Well today I was singing *the song that never ends* under my breath and accidentally cast it... and a member of Congress was walking past on his way to work at the time. Now the entire House of Representatives is just repeating the lyrics over and over and I can't stop them. Anytime I try to get close I just start singing too, and the area of effect is getting larger. Please, help!
\[Edit\] Okay, thanks for all of your suggestions in the comments but none of them are working, so keep sending. As an update, it has now been an hour and nearly half the city is endlessly singing now. I've only been able to keep working on this by wearing noise-cancelling headphones, but my phone is almost out of battery. I'm starting to get desperate here.
\[Edit\] Well, my phone died, so I'm using a computer at the library. Everyone in here is completely ignoring the quiet rules. A few people who know sign language have managed to establish communication, but since everyone is too busy dancing to write anything down they're the only ones who can talk to each other. Last I heard the entire city was under the area of effect. Anyone who is nearby should probably prepare their defenses.
\[Edit\] Okay, we finally got all that sorted out. I deleted my previous post with the musical number spell, but I am *slightly* worried that some of you may have saved the post. Please for the love of everything that is good, don't use it, we used most of our paper towels already counterspelling this one. Thank you to u/ reddituser419 for the suggestion. Go give him some platinum everybody. | Right. You have to do it with four right turns exactly the *right* way, otherwise it doesn't work. You've got to do it *right* as you're reading this post. Like, right away. Right now.
"It's a derivation of the Household Dishwater Sequence first developed a week and a half ago," Malcom said, scanning the thousands upon thousands of replies on the post for the third time. "If we match the user replies to their real-life identities, which we can do for about 85% of the posters, we find something very interesting indeed."
"Right," Jonas interjected. The young man was brimming with excitement. He alone had discovered forty two unique spell derivations. "...Look at the groupings of positive responses, specifically those who succeeded after reading the instructions." He jabbed a finger at the hologram readout which showed demographic trends on the post. "House wives. Home bodies. House husbands. They're all at home browsing reddit, see a title that outlines an improved dish-washing automation sequence, they follow the instructions, and bam! They achieve it."
"Hold on a second," a disembodied voice said from one of the room's wall-mounted screens. "Frank Bragander, CIA. We're just getting looped in." The power brokers in the room swiveled in unison to face the man, who gave the impression that the scowl he wore was permanent. "What was the title of the post?," he asked, nonplussed by the clearance levels of the individuals arrayed around the table.
Malcom's eyes darted upwards in betrayal of his exasperation, though he managed to avoid a full eye-roll." It's a simple title. 'Forget about your dishes taking up space in the kitchen. Try this instead.'," he said, turning to face the rest of the table. "It's the top post right now, has been for over two hours. It needs to come down."
"We're working on it, sir," replied Jonas. "It doesn't violate the site's TOS."
"Get it done. We can't afford to have it up for much longer."
"Is it really that bad?" Frank said, frowning as he read through the instructions. "It just looks like a variation on the auto-"
"...mated dishwasher sequence." Malcom said, running a hand through his thinning hair with a jerky, erratic movement. "But it isn't. It imbues the casters with a fucking *philosophy!*"
"What?" Frank was still frowning.
"They stop seeing the purpose in all of their random household items - in the espresso maker and slow cooker and microwave." Malcom looked around the table, unable to catch anyone's eyes. "The sequence takes out any materialistic tendencies in humans. Everyone who follows the instructions stops caring about status and wealth - they completely drop the fucking fundamental drivers behind our economy." The President slammed his palms down onto the mahogany table. "Society is going to collapse. It's the end of life as we know it."
Laughter burst from the TV screen. Frank had a wide grin plastered across his face. "Two weeks ago magic came into the world - literally nothing else matters." As if to prove his point, the Director of the CIA snapped his fingers and appeared right in the middle of the table, causing the meeting room's occupants to jerk backwards in shock.
"Our society was created by the past. It was created for a completely different reality where magic didn't exist and the unexplained was ultimately explainable," the Director said over the indignant muttering. He turned to face the post's hologram projection, then began to recite the sequence. | 2019-07-11T12:55:49 | 2019-07-11T11:46:51 | 2,493 | 50 |
[WP] A strange meteor shower lasted for hours before you went to bed. The next day, technology across the earth fails. However, when you snap your fingers in frustration, the lights come on. The Age of Magic has begun. | In fairness, we should have seen it coming. When we looked up to the heavens and saw the unscheduled meteor shower we all Ooh’d and Aah’d, taking pictures on our phones and thinking little of it. The loss of signal was easy to explain away, and the loss of WiFi was irritating, but we all slept regardless.
We should have put two and two together in the days that followed, realising that the stars that fell were our own! Every single man made object was simultaneously dragged from orbit. The world suddenly became as small as it had ever been until we awakened to our newfound abilities.
You weren’t the first, snapping your fingers at a dead lightbulb to find that the glass, not the filament, began to glow faintly. People slowly realised that the technology we’d relied on so heavily for centuries was now relying on us for power.
Some forms of renewable energy still functioned, but engineers and scientists scratched their heads at the outcome. The very laws that governed reality seemed to have changed in new, entirely unexplainable ways!
Somehow, every before functional arcane bulbs or mystic travel solutions, some college warlocks managed to pool enough energy to revive the internet, now fuelled by the ambient energy caused by the learning of magic. MIT was quickly renamed the Magical Institute of Technomancy as more and more fresh, young minds found strange fixes for the losses of the age of technology.
Obviously, crystals were bought up so quickly that the prices sky rocketed. Of course the players of D&D and every other fantasy game would guess what was happening first. The discovery that the magical powers could, indeed, be stored for varying periods of time inside a crystalline lattice was what allowed mankind to begin to pick themselves up again.
Airplanes were forgotten, preferring the Arcane Gates that gave airports a new purpose. Old ways long thought to be myth and legend has been revived, following old books of lore and legacy passed down from the previous ages of magic.
People called it that now! Magic! It wasn’t openly accepted just as technology took so long to be interpreted into our lives, but the more open minded (and frankly desperate) masses accepted it a lot better than many expected.
New world powers rose and fell as even the land beneath our feet began to change, breathing new life into the Wilds and bringing with them long lost creatures and some that we’d rather have forgotten.
The old glass and metal tablets of old still speak of a time without magic, and prophecy that a time will come again when the wonders of magic will wane and the mundane will overtake the arcane once more, but most do not worry themselves with these doomsday sayings. It is now the second age of arcanum, and there are dungeons to be explored, and dragons to be discovered. What a time to be alive! | My grandmother always told me stories about the age of magic. She claimed it had happened once and it would happen again—it was only a matter of time.
I’d nod along and roll my eyes. *Sure, Grandma.*
When she passed, I wished I’d listened more. I hadn’t appreciated those slow moments in front of the fireplace in her living room. She must’ve been trying to tell me something, even if it wasn’t magic, it was still a type of tradition passed down. I’d heard of stories where the ‘magic’ was an escapist fantasy for women, who were so often disenfranchised. The appeal (and fear) of the witch, my English teacher once told me, wasn’t necessarily about the magic. It was a deeper fear of women with power.
Still, I could remember the way my grandmother’s eyes creased softly when she spoke. I remember her shoulders—so stooped in those last years—and her love of oversized costume jewellery. She had a flair for anything dramatic.
I missed her. A lot.
When the meteors streaked past my window that night, I thought about how much she would love it. She’d spin a story about how it was an otherworld omen. From there, she would’ve branched into other stories about the sky; stories about meteors and eclipses and the moon. I went to bed that night thinking of the soft Irish lilt in her voice.
I woke up the next morning to sun streaking into my apartment. *Shit*. I was late for work.
I grabbed for my phone, but the screen wouldn’t flick on. Had there been a power outage? I couldn’t even check the time—the small analog clock on the far wall of my bedroom read 3:13 a.m. and the second hand stayed planted just before the six.
I rummaged through my dresser and pulled my dark dress pants and the nearest blouse I could find into the bathroom—only to find the light wouldn’t turn on either. I flicked the switch up-down, up-down, and hoped that one flick would suddenly and miraculously work.
No such luck. I brushed my hair out of my face and pressed my hands to the side of my head. A gnawing and dull ached started to blossom around my temples. At least if the power was out throughout the whole city, my boss would understand if I was late. Maybe. Carla was a bitch who’d do anything to make herself look better, even at the expense of others.
*Come on.* I stared at the bulbs encased under the dome shade. *Turn on!*
The lights popped on. The brightness pressed against the backs of my retinas—I squished my eyes shut to adjust to the sudden wave of light.
When I cracked my eyes open again, it wasn’t any better. In fact, the lights seemed to shine brighter and brighter with each passing moment. I wondered if it was possible for them to be *too* bright.
A second later, I got my answer.
The room flared to shattering brightness. The blubs—all three of them in the shade—exploded in a clatter. Stray bits of glass and sparks rained to the tile floor.
I stumbled back and tried to keep myself safe. A small but razor-sharp fragment of bulb dug into the sole of my left foot. *Fuck* A bolt of pain fired through my nerves, sharp and hot. When I stepped back into the light of my bedroom, I saw the red flecks spot the white carpet.
I sat on the edge of my bed and pulled a tissue from the rainbow box on my nightstand. I wasn’t a great hand when it came to first-aid, I couldn’t tell if this cut would need stitches. Could they even put stitches on the bottom of a foot? I pressed the tissue into the cut and hoped it would staunch the bleeding. Even better, I wished the cut would just go away altogether.
I watched my skin stitch itself back together. The edges of the cut pressed together and ran up the small length. The skin looked unbroken; there wasn’t even a hint of a scab or a faint line of a scar.
I dropped the bloody tissue and sat, in silence, with my heart hammering through my body. What the hell had just happened?
I thought of my grandmother and her stories. She had always promised the age of magic would, one day, begin again.
---
/r/liswrites | 2019-10-20T10:44:57 | 2019-10-20T10:12:29 | 182 | 58 |
[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. | It was stupid. The Karathians should have just settled their disagreements with the Auraxians like a civilized bunch. It was a shame really. Such a beautiful world, it's emerald oceans glistening. But they screwed up when they both engaged a human fleet which was just traversing the system peacefully. Before the flagship went down, EDF HOOD, a single wide band hail went out.
"If you want war, we'll give you war."
Both fleets ignored the hail. Many underestimated humanity and it's abilities. Many species were stronger, many far more intelligent. But none had ever seen the ability of a human to cause destruction. So when they ignored the hails of our diplomatic ships when we went to demand reparations and an apology, a declaration of war was sent instead.
So here I sit. The sky marshall, sipping my coffee as I listen to the latest cadets complete their graduation ceremony.
**I solemnly swear,**
**To devote my life and abilities,**
**In the defense of the United Nations of Earth,**
**To defend the right of humanity,**
**And to further the universal rights of sentient life,**
**From the depths of the Pacific,**
**To the darkest parts of the galaxy,**
**So long as, I, live!**
The executor class is really a one of a kind ship. Literally. Lacking defensive armament, it's power is entirely dedicated to the large central particle lance weapon. Originally an orbital mining laser, but we found that it was equally capable of causing traumatic damage to the crust of a planet, if you boosted the power.
A world cracker, they called it.
That's when the hails asking for mercy began to flood in. It's too bad really. If only they hadn't ignored ours...
"Sky marshall? It's on your orders."
"You may fire at your leisure, admiral."
What a shame. Such a beautiful world.
EDIT: Part deux: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/e13cwf/wp_every_sentient_species_in_the_galaxy_is_given/f8ntxrt/ | Super busy professional and Dad - please comment and tell me how to improve!
THANK YOU FOR READING!!!!!!!!
=====
Alex switched off her comm-link and keyed for the holographic map. The fleets were slugging it out overhead with thousands of colored blips pulsating about a foot above her wrist display.
Spillway...4 kilometers north/northwest. Up the spillway, into the system. Five minutes to pick up.
"Stupid xenos. Fuck the Codes." Alex grunted to herself, the ionic repulsors skating her toward a wall of mixed organic and technological superstructure. Her heart raced, pushing her faster across the dilapidated aquaducts - ancient structures filled in with newly grown flesh and bone.
The thrill granting her speed and purpose, she began to hum to herself an ancient child's song, learned from her grandmother. A song appropriate for her target - Aquatic Distribution Node #4.
A shrill beep from her wrist, with a flash on her HUD - 2 minutes to target. 3 minutes to pick up. Each pedestrian in the causeway was outlined in a wash of neon blue overlay, indicating they carried no weapons and posed no threat to the mission. Hundreds of xenos nonchalantly watching the holos of the battle unfolding above their planet, clustered in courtyards. The atmosphere was one of revelry. Vendors cried out, children wore the colors of their home fighting battalions.
"They picked the wrong fight with the wrong planet."
90 seconds. "PUSHITALEX PUSHGOGOGOGO"
The giant, irregular opening at the end of the aquaduct loomed. The ozone burning off beneath her treads filled Alex's nose. She had to time this right...annnndddddddd.....NOW!
She leaped. No. She flung herself. And landed in the open mouth of the aquaduct. Panting. And exhausted. But, she made it. Thank the Emperor. Her hand found her hip holster and flung the device into the water. Immediately she reflexively activated the hydrophobic shield at her waist.
Then up/around/up/around. She skated in a circle around the giant cistern's walls - count down thrumming in her HUD. As she reach the apex, the clock ticked 0 and she was pulled by some unseen force back through the ionosphere to the waiting ship in orbit.
As she materialized on the deck, the display before her showed her work. A tsunami that extended as far away from the surface of the planet that its gravity would allow began on the opposite side of the planet. Satellites, space elevators, and low orbit defense platforms were obliterated instantly in a super sonic wall of water. It rushed toward the cistern with enough force to create temporary nuclear fusion.
For a second, a tiny white dwarf existed at the center of the xeno's 4th aquatic network as the pressure from every single water molecule on the planet crashed at once into a small 10 by 6cm yellow square. The xenos' ships stopped firing, slowly at first as they came to see what was left of their home. Desiccated family members, crops, pets, buildings. Every single piece of moisture inside a small, yellow rectangle. They transmitted their surrender.
As the readout came across her HUD, Alex smirked to herself. She pulled her helmet off and dropped her shield. As she walked off the bridge, she began to sing out loud the childhood song learned from her grandmother.
"Oh, who lives in pineapple under the sea? Yellow and porous, absorbent is he....." | 2019-11-24T11:35:42 | 2019-11-24T11:06:40 | 661 | 151 |
[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. | (\*cracks knuckles\* here we go)
It happened. Diplomacy broke down between the Humans and the Fomori. They had killed 100 colonists in a recent settlement on their borders. The Fomori saw the humans as weak for their aversion to war, something not helped by the relative size difference. And average fomorian being a good two feet taller than an average human.
Issue is fomorians were warriors, bound by honor and saw war as a vehicle for glory. Humans didn’t. The battle of Tau Ceti proved that. Everyone thought the war would be one sided. It was, but not in the way they expected.
The fomorians, the once thought masters of war were being laid to waste by this young civilization. The fomorian ships had no answer to the human’s long range rail guns, as they saw close quarters battles to be most honorable. Their warriors had no answer to humanity’s savage orbital, sub-orbital, and conventional bombardments. And so the fomorians called for a status quo peace. A conditional surrender.
It was ignored.
The war continued, conditional surrenders were offered and ignored again and again. The Fomori fleets crushed with swarms of missiles and tungsten-steel rods. Warriors felled by artillery, gun, and missile. The Fomori would call this war “the calamity” and rightfully so. As foundries pumped out weapons to the human war effort like nothing else. Their entire civilization was mobilized by a single diplomatic incident. The death of 100 colonists.
The war ended the moment the Fomori unconditionally surrendered.
Today the galaxy learned a lesson. Humanity hated going to war, not because they were weak, but because they were too familiar with it. They were too *good* at it. And the scary thing was, they didn’t violate a single treaty throughout the war.
Today the galaxy was introduced to what humans called Total War.
(What do you think?) | Civil wars were never beneficial. They had an uncanny ability to push entire species past the point of no return. To eliminate enough of the breeding population, that they had made members of the Galactic Authority functionally extinct.
The Threlliad admiral paced nervously, wondering if the humans would be able to deliver on their threats. About 1 AU from where he stood on his ship a fleet, a few thousand strong, comprised mostly of human and a few other GA species ships, held a defensive perimeter around his larger fleet. He pondered what he knew about humans.
Currently, the GA consisted of 23 separate entities made up of varying ratios of 16 different species. The only entity that did not have members of its species belonging to any other ruling entity: humans.
Their scientists referred to themselves as Homo sapiens. Much of the origin of biology on their home planet was held in secrecy, reserved only for human eyes. They rarely allowed scientific collaboration involving biology with any other species, and when they did it was never centered on humans or any earth-borne species. Their home planet was shrouded in mystery in spite of the fact that they were the 4th inducted member of the Galactic Authority, no blood had been spilled on their home planet according to non-human records.
This isn’t to say they were a peaceful species, they’d been involved in 16 wars in the last 3 centuries, and had won every single one, 7 of those wars resulted in the extinction of their adversaries. The Galactic Authority was formed 50 years ago in a last ditch attempt to prevent the human threat from wiping out any additional species. The three founding species of the GA, were wary and wished to open diplomatic channels with humans and hoped to excercise political control over them. No one expected the humans to be interested in joining the GA, and even fewer were expecting such shrewd diplomats.
The humans essentially assumed control of the GA within 16 years, and from that point setup favorable trade sanctions that helped their economy grow. While humans were neither physically imposing, nor the most intellectually developed species in the discovered universe, they certainly had a unique blend of the two traits. They weren’t as powerful as the Krulmulians, but their intellect allowed them to win against them due to superior tactics and logistics at almost every turn. And while they weren’t functionally as intelligent as the Xiun, they were quicker to act and able to make ‘snap decisions’ much more effectively. Very little data of their battle techniques or strategy was available, and most of what was widely known about human combat effort comes from voice communication or character based communication.
They seemed to be in the middle ground of the brains vs brawn spectrum and it put them in an interesting place evolutionarily. While most members of the GA belonged to species who had developed significantly more specialized survival techniques for their respective home planets, the human physiology allowed them to easily adapt to a wider range of operating conditions than most species. Sure, they couldn’t communicate telepathically or use telekenesis on the battlefield, and they didn’t have redundancy in vital organs or even a competitive muscle mass to body weight ratio, but they had an interesting ability to adapt and overcome, that had allowed them to win an untold amount of conflict. They appeared unremarkable, but perhaps that was to their advantage: their enemies wouldn’t know what they were truly up against until it was too late.
“Sir, there’s a few thousand incoming projectiles.... with a lot of gamma radiation pouring into our sensors. 2 minutes to potential impacts. What are your orders for the fleet?”
“Charge capacitors,” the admiral growled, “those puny hairless apes aren’t going to get any sanctions through the GA while I have anything to say about it.” | 2019-11-24T14:38:34 | 2019-11-24T14:28:48 | 120 | 54 |
[WP] You, a villain, heart set on taking over the world, kidnapped the hero’s sidekick. You find out that you are treating them much better than the hero was and decide to take them under your wing. | Captain Atlas lounged in his underground headquarters, toying with a pen and eyeing the concrete chips scattered across the floor. He should really have started the paperwork hours ago. There were insurance claims, construction contracts, and all the careful NDAs and workarounds of getting a superhero's hideout repaired. Vortex's assault had torn right through his lair. He'd have to get everything replaced.
Including Ricky, of course. So sad. He was going to have to start all over again. Put on his philanthropist face. Trawl the foster system. Find a new Ricky.
"Atlas."
At just the sound of the voice Atlas was on his feet, fingers glowing with white fire. He was here, his nemesis was *here*, again, standing in the flesh with that ridiculous purple costume.
None of the alarms had gone off. When Vortex had rolled in the first time it had been with thunder and chaos, blasting apart his defenses and laughing all the while. But now, suddenly, he was here again, without a sound, with a sad, tired look Atlas had never seen before.
"I'm not here to fight, Atlas," he said, "just to talk."
"Then talk," said Atlas through gritted teeth.
Vortex began to pace. Atlas could just sense the grandiose monologue brewing. "What do you think I am, above all else?" the villain asked.
"A coward," Atlas spat.
"I'm an *actor*, Atlas," said Vortex. "I play a role, a role that pleases me. You, the paragon of righteousness; me, the dastardly rogue.
"Every day a hundred and fifty thousand people die on this planet," he said. "A thousand murders a day. An uncountable number of injustices, large and small.
"But here, Atlas, in this microcosm we have created, we can play at justice," he said. "In our tiny bubble the hero beats the villain, good triumphs over evil. A lie, obscene in its simplification, but charming in its naivety. A lie I was reluctant to rupture."
"So this is all some kind of game to you?" said Atlas.
"Of course," Vortex replied, "Isn't it to you? You're a billionare, Atlas. You could save half the planet with your money. But instead, you play the role. You enjoy it: the sensation, of being *right*, and *powerful*, and *adored*.
"I knew it couldn't last forever, of course," he said, "but that makes it no less heartbreaking when it ends."
He sighed. "Why couldn't you have stuck to the role, Atlas?" he said. "Why couldn't you have been perfect?"
Atlas stared at him. "I have no idea what you're talking about, you crazy-"
"I know what you've done, Atlas." There was steel in the villain's voice now. "I took the boy as part of the game. In time, you would have rescued him. But from the moment he spoke I knew your every sin.
"You'd do anything for that power, wouldn't you? For that *adoration,*" he said. "So you broke that boy. You ground him down to nothing, so that you could be his savior. He would do anything for you." Rage glimmered in his eye. "And you made him do so *many* things."
Atlas roared. Fire tore loose from his fingers and raced at Vortex. At his lying mouth. It caught him full in the face, engulfing his entire head in white hot flame.
He moved not an inch. "Oh no, Atlas," he said, speaking even as his lips began to burn. "We're done playing that game."
Atlas watched in horror as Vortex's hair was fried off his head, as his eyes melted in their sockets, running down his charring cheeks. And all the while, he continued to speak.
"You burst the bubble, Atlas," he said. "You made it *real*. We're back in the world of injustice now, where good and evil are lies told by men to pretend the universe gives a damn about them." There was no face left now, just a skull scorched black.
"What *are* you?" Atlas managed to stammer out.
"I told you before," it said. "I'm an actor. Play the villain. Play the human. Play the *mortal*."
Atlas tried to run, to fight, to scream or beg, but he found himself frozen.
"I'll take care of the boy," the skull said. "Not myself, of course. People who spend too much time around me tend to suffer unfortunate fates. But there will be a future for him. And who knows? Maybe in time, there will be another superhero for me to play with.
"But not *you*," it said. "*You* ruined my vacation."
It leaned in, the jawbone cracking as the mouth opened impossibly wide. In the darkness within, Atlas could see stars. | *Note first prompt pls no rage on bad "x" thing*
Standing on the roof of skyscraper; you're just a few minutes away from unleashing the most powerful, the most incredible monstrosity upon the world and finally claim it as your own.
/You hear sound coming beneath you followed by the ground starting to tremble/
Suddenly coming from beneath floor appears the so-called "Number 1 Hero"... Bob and his sidekick... "Fantistic Juan" wait hang on I think he is "Fantistic Juan...the..uhh..fourth...no maybe fith... aaah who cares he is just the sidekick anyway" you think to yourself.
As your ultimate weapon has been charging and now with only seconds to spare; you try and hold off Bob and his sidekick Juan but with just a momentary lapse of focus Juan managed to land a critical blow which damaged a crucial component triggering the self-destruct sequence (which was initially added to prevent the hero organization from screwing you over again). "You fool!" you shout at Juan "Do you have any idea how long it took to perfect and build that? ... Parts are fricken expensive and hard to come by man; couldn't you have literally just stood there or even hit one of the cheaper components is that too much to ask for.."
With the ultimate weapon about to implode upon itself; Bob punches you with little restraint causing you stagger backwards. "This is the last time you'll ever try something like this again Garathor" Bob yells as he blasts you off the roof with his seemingly overpowered energy-blast.
You start falling off the roof to what seems to be a nice hard concrete bed of DEATH. As you decide that is not really to your liking you open a dimensional-rift a couple of feet below you. Moments before you fall into the rift... it dawns on you - you can make Bob regret stopping you for the last and final time ever(you think atleast).
You realize the "Not So Fantastic Juan.. after he broke your ultimate weapon" is standing over the edge watching you fall. You use your pre-owned mind-grasp device that you got on sale at the local VillianMart ( which channels your willpower and intelligence which allows the user to inhibit telekentic powers for a short duration ) to grab Juan off the roof and through the rift with you.
/You both slam into your secret cave with a thub and a couple of groans later/
Juan looks at you and states "I will stop you Garathor, just wait until Bob gets ...he..re.." He vomits and you laugh maniacally "I see the inter-dimensional travel sickness has got you good huh?" He continues to hurl as you chain him preventing him from resisting and continuing your monologue about how truly amazing you are and how they are not ..blah blah blah yada yada yada some other important things and the monologue ends.
"So sidekick tell me exactly what I want to know otherwise this could get real painful, real quick" you notice that all the spunk and confident demeanor has disappeared leaving behind an appearance akin to that of a stray, abused dog.
"WHATS THE MATTER NOW? I JUST CAN'T GET A BREAK CAN I, FIRST YOU BREAK THE FRICKEN EXPENSIVE MACHINE AND NOW YOU START SULKING WHAT IS UP WITH YOU... UGGHHH" You yell as you pace up and down. While enraged you notice the uniform Juan is wearing seems identical to his predecessors; upon furthed inspection you start to notice scarring and scar tissue over his body.
You calm yourself, sit down next to him and ask "Now look here sidekick even though we don't always see eye to eye, heck we never see eye to eye. Whats up with this uniform it looks as old as the first Fantastic Juans', also whats up with all the scars?".
Juan begins to break down crying; just moments ago before your master plan was thwarted there was this energetic and lively sidekick; now all thats left is a husk of his former self that's emitting beaten, broken and hopeless aura.
"Geez just answer the questiosn will you" you state even though your concern is growing. Juan starts speaking "You know what? My name isn't even Juan not even remotely close my real name is Eric. And yes this is that exact uniform from all the previous Juans as for the scars; whenever Bob loses a fight or wants to train guess who is used as a personal punching bag because I'm "just a sidekick". What do you think happened to my predecessors?... you know what ignore everything and just end it here I dont care anymore" Eric closes his eyes and it seems as though he is awaiting something.
You unclip his shackles and tell him to follow you; as Eric follows you through this ever-shifting dimension of yours you start talking to him "You know Eric I have fought many-a Juans over the years but I never knew what happened to them but now it all comes together. When I was younger my father used to beat me just for the sake of "building character" he said after each beating. So I know the rage, resentment and hate boiling from within you and all I can say is... USE THAT AS FUEL, USE THAT TO DRIVE YOU, USE THAT TO BECOME SO POWERFUL NO ONE WILL DARE LAY SO MUCH AS A FINGER ON YOU WITHOUT YOUR PERMISSION..."
/You notice a faint smile on his face and the return of life within his eyes as you walk.../
/As you reach your destination you tell Eric that there are appropriately sized clothes within the room and that he should take a shower and get changed into the clothes/
Eric comes out after a while with a huge grin on his face; "What?" you ask - Eric responds "No one has ever treated me so kindly before or even treated me as another human before; you know I am actually 16 right?". It dawns on you, for these mere moments you were helping this boy; you were more of a hero to him than the so-called "Number 1 Hero".
"You know if you want you can stay here, you can have that room. We might be a little broken but I think two broken might just make one whole person... or one worse person but lets focus on the positive" you ask the kid. The boy is overjoyed and jumps onto you squeezing and hugging you well stating "Are you sure? You aren't joking right? A room just for myself? You know I've always had to sleep in the living room in the couch or on the mats in the exercise room.."
"Geez, alright kid and yes to all of the above would you just get off me.. We need to go grab some dinner"
/You and your newly "adopted" to-be villiabous-sidekick head off to enjoy a meal in what the kid will realize is the dimension which all villains reside within/ | 2020-03-26T17:50:08 | 2020-03-26T17:01:36 | 37 | 10 |
[WP] You, a villain, heart set on taking over the world, kidnapped the hero’s sidekick. You find out that you are treating them much better than the hero was and decide to take them under your wing. | Names say a lot. You can know nothing about a cape but their name, and you'll already have opinions. They're a message in a bottle, a distilled form of a parahuman's intent and nature. A good name can make a career, but it can also inspire with hope, or comfort with humour.
When I was a hero, back in the Golden Days when powers began to emerge, I spent three weeks and seventeen different configurations trying to find one for myself. I'd yet to stop my first robbery, or solve any configurations for flight. I hadn't even saved a cat from a tree. Nevertheless, I sat alone at home, reshaping the newly forged mass of power in my mind through every Thinker ability I could conceive of. Social Movement Mapping, Moral Codification, Precognitive Empathic Sight- I stared at the world through eyes made of energy and tried to figure out how I wanted it to see me.
Eventually, I settled on Humble. I had great power, so I had a great responsibility, and my name should have been a reminder of that. It would set a noble standard for those who would follow.
"[Nemesis!](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/evz7av/wp_in_a_world_full_of_supervillains_you_are_the/ffzauai?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x)" Apotheosis yelled. The hero held himself in the sky through sheer force of fury, turning emotion into radiant power. "Your tyranny ends today!" Wings of white light stretched forty feet either side of his shoulders, and a tremendous wind bellowed from their form.
It wasn't enough force to budge a hair on my head.
I'd met the man when he'd been a boy. One of Jacob's, the type of parahuman that was certain their power was a gift from the heavens. Or, originally, in the boy's case, a curse from Hell, though he'd long since left the name Fauster behind. Once he'd gotten his emotions under control, he'd gone from a D-Lister Ward with a chaotic power and terrible mood swings to one of the premier heroes of the New Age.
The skyscraper I was standing on swayed under the weight of his wind. My hearing, untouched by the upstart's ruckus, heard screams from both the streets below and within the skyscraper itself.
*I need to get this fight away from the city,* I thought.
Most powers had relativistic features, the so called "Manton Limitations," where powers conformed to arbitrary rules befitting human perception more than the laws of physics. Fire that only burned flesh, speedsters that could run faster than a jetplane without turning themselves or the pavement to ash.
Neither Apotheosis, nor my current configuration, had such limitations. If he struck with those wings first, he and I would be fine, but the displaced air would shatter all the windows in the city. The same would occur if I moved too quickly. The boy snarled, unable to attack, but wanting to. He waited for me to escalate, so he'd have an excuse.
I watched the winds carefully, waiting for the tower to reach the furthest point of its sway. It leaned precariously toward Apotheosis, and I got a better look at his scowl. Pores, stubble, the undulation of skin under a stampeding heart.
I placed a hand on my stomach, gracefully leaning back so that I could catch the brunt of what I was about to do.
I met thumb with flip-off and snapped my fingers.
Apotheosis merely flinched, but the force of it launched me off the skyscraper, knocking it violently to the other extreme of its sway. Steel screeched in protest, and I feared that it was about to fall as I flew. But something reinforced the structure, a lattice of canary-yellow forcefields creeping up the side like the web of a spider.
I frowned as I fell. Not Apotheosis himself. His power turned emotions into hardlight with thematic secondary abilities, but all of them extended from himself, and the colouration had been keyed off his overall mental state when I'd known him. Right now it was white, righteous fury. I hadn't seen yellow since his graduation to the League.
But the power was similar nevertheless. Had someone budded off of him?
I hit the ground at a sharp angle, the momentum from the snap still winning out over air resistance and gravity. I skipped like a stone over water, leaving shattered pavement in my wake. I allowed myself to ragdoll, limbs flailing wildly to give observers the impression that I'd been hit by anyone other than myself. Once I'd deemed that I was close enough to the city limits, I rolled onto my feet and started running. Bigger craters were made by my footfalls as I passed the cars turning onto the highway.
A mile up and away, Apotheosis's great wings gathered together into a single missile of light, the man himself the warhead. Before his aerokinesis could propel him forwards, the yellow light reinforcing the skyscraper launched out a single strand to wrap around the missile. A figure used the string to grapple up to the hero, their web of light not fading even as they abandoned it.
I focused in on the parahuman as they pulled themselves up onto Apotheosis's construct, only to find I could not identify them.
My vision was beyond sight, and it was even more refined when I was drawing strength from the target's hate. Despite that, the parahuman was blurrier than the starkly detailed Apotheosis. I recognised a similar theme and aesthetic- Templar chic- but where I could spy Apotheosis's wild eyes I could only determine that the saviour of the skyscraper was either small or a child.
*Curious,* I thought. *Someone born in this day and age that doesn't hate me to their core.*
My power adjusted slightly, trading off impossible strength and incredible awareness for impossible awareness and merely incredible strength. My wild sprint became a meagre jog as I listened in on the pair.
"Jesus Christ Lydia! Get the fuck off me, she's getting away!"
"Dad, I-"
"*Cape names,* you idiot! Cape names only while on missions!"
My heart yearned and my blood boiled.
That explained just about everything.
\---
Want more like this? All the terminology used was ripped straight from J.C. McCrea's Worm, which you can [read or listen to now](https://parahumans.wordpress.com/) for free.
More to come if it is desired. | I had finally acquired the Golden Band of Sight, a device which allowed you to see how your attack would move/land so that you would always hit your shot, whether it was a sniper shot from 2 miles or away, a definite sword swipe, whatever it was I could land my shot.
But, of course, it was never that simple. Because the Sapphire Knight and his sidekick the Ruby Mage had to come and step in! I mean, seriously! It’s like they have a tracker on me or something because no matter how stealthy I was, no matter how many precautions I took they still found me! Granted, in hindsight, I’m not so sure how stealthy a man in a glowing emerald green high-tech samurai can be...
“I WON’T LET YOU ESCAPE, VILLAIN!” The Sapphire Knight shouted, welding his magical Sapphire Blade, he shot a blast of cyan water from the blade’s tip. I just barely managed to evade the attack. “Ruby-! Use your Ruby Leaf Trap-! Now-!” The Knight harshly ordered his sidekick. “Oh, okay-!” The young woman summoned a bunch of ruby colored leaves in the form of a cage to try and trap me like I was a mouse, but I had broken out many times before, so I’m not so sure why he would have her do that again...As the leaves surrounded me I drew my trusty magic ninjaken and used one of my most powerful attacks: “Emerald Blade!” As I slashed the leafy cage a trail of green fire followed the blades path slashing it open effortlessly.
As I leaped out of the cage, I pressed a button on the small screen on the left arm of my suit. A portal opened in front of me, which I could use to teleport back to base! The two heroes leaped forward and as the Mage missed an attack, the Knight looked angrily at her for half a second before he used his ultimate move: “HYDRO BOMB!” I had survived this attack before, I could do it again...
As the blast of water shot out in all directions like a nuclear bomb, the Ruby Mage was hit first and flung in my direction. A thought then raced through my mind-! *What if...I capture her-? The Sapphire Knight would be unable to stop me without her-!* So, I did something I never thought I would after society forced me to be a Villain- I reached out and grabbed the Mage, saving her from the blast as we both fell through the portal. The portal closed behind us moments before the attack hit us.
The Ruby Mage groined, as she struggled to get up. She didn’t look happy, that’s for sure. “What are you...planning to do to me...?” She asked meekly. “Why did you capture me...?” “We both know that you wouldn’t have survived that blast head on, despite you resisting water attacks...” Ruby Mage hung her head low...she knew I was right...
“I won’t hurt you, I just need to keep you here until that Sapphire Knight bends over bawling to have you released.” The hero then fell unconscious, putting too much strain on herself, defiant to the last second... While inside my base I could travel anywhere with minimal effort, so I picked up the hero, who might I add, is ludicrously hot, and teleported to the medical sector of my base.
Once I arrived, I set her inside a medical pod which examined and treated her wounds. I noticed that on her body were numerous cuts, *cuts infused with water magic...*
I had a dreadful feeling of who caused them, but, one feature of the medical pod was that it could tell who gave someone their injuries, more specifically, what weapon they used. If it was a magic weapon, it would pick up on the weapon’s signature and notify it immediately. Being injured so many times by that cursed Knight and his Sapphire Blade meant that I had plenty of time to memorize that signature. So, it only made it worse when I found out that the cuts on her body, 24 in total, hidden underneath her costume...*they were all from that Sapphire Blade...*
The Knight clearly didn’t care about her. These injuries looked far too, intentional to be a coincidence. What was worse was that, they had failed to capture me, exactly 24 times. He had punished her with a swift slash of his blade everytime she failed to capture me...
She woke up hours later, her scars fully healed, feeling better than she had felt in months... the pod opened, allowing her to step out freely. The mage was confused, the lab was small and white in color, which meant that my green, black, and gold outfit stood out even more than normal. “Where am I?!” She asked immediately. “We’re in my medical facility. I assure you, I never hurt you, *I healed you*. I know this seems rude of me...but I’m sorry about what he did to you...” The Ruby Hero didn’t know how to react, this seemingly heartless megalomaniac, seemed to genuinely care about her, but why?
“Why do you want to help me? You said it yourself earlier, you’re using me as a hostage. Besides, a megalomaniac like you wouldn’t have a heart!” I always got very offended when people said that, if only they knew the truth...
I had always tried to help people, in fact, I was doing heroic deeds before the Sapphire Knight was-! Yet, it all went downhill when I was accused of a murder, and considering how I didn’t have ideals that the government truly approved of and that I was popular, I was deemed a Villain.
“My goal of conquest isn’t to make people suffer, it is the opposite, it is to end the 3 decade recession worldwide, remove the tyrants on top so that the people could freely express themselves! Make it so that a child no longer has to be alone in a dark alleyway, crying for a chance to be free, knowing in the back of their mind that it would never come...” “The government provides us with food and shelter! It makes sure that there is no poverty!” “Well, when everyone is poor, nobody is...Open your eyes, Ruby Mage. You’re a smart and talented person...and you wish to help the people, right?” She nodded hesitant, thinking I was going to use this against her. “Well then, why not use your talents to actually help the people...?” I offered her my hand.
She stood back, in her mind it was everything the government had trained her to believe, that I was a megalomaniac. “Let me show you what I mean, will you at least do that?” “...Fine...”
I then showed her what had been happening around the world. I wasn’t lying when I told her all those things, no sir or ma’am. It was true. All of it. In many countries people couldn’t afford to eat real food, in others, they had to praise the country they lived in or be suppressed...like I did.
After seeing the news stories and headlines...she was horrified, yet, something deep down told her this was true. She knew she had to stop it...
“So, will you help me take out these tyrants and maybe get back at that Sapphire Knight...Amalia?” The mage was surprised that I knew her name, but I knew her the entire time, that was why I felt more obligated than before to show her the truth.
“Yes, Boss.” “Don’t call me that when we’re in private, okay? Just call me Genji.” “Genji...the boy in my high school class...?” I nodded to her. “But...you died...” “That’s what they wanted you to believe...”
“Alright Genji, let’s go save the world...lead the way-!” “Right, let’s do this-! But first I have a special treat for that Sapphire Knight...” I quickly ran to a hidden vault inside my special armory, and opened the door, inside was an electric coated sniper rifle, with the word ‘Thunderclap’ painted on the side.
“Alright, *now* we save the world!” | 2020-03-26T17:29:53 | 2020-03-26T17:29:48 | 28 | 13 |
[WP] Born to a family of do-gooders, you're adamant on being an unpleasant person. But no matter what you do, something goes always right; this drives you absolutely mad. | "Do good," I said. "Such a funny sounding phrase, isn't it?"
The malice in my voice was calculated. Sharp, but serrated, along with a coat of sugar to make it go down easier. I looked over at my current hostage.
The Ardent. Still has that delicious hatred in her gaze. I would have revelled in it in private, but I had work to do. I walked over to her, lifting her chin up forcibly, forcing her to look uncomfortably up.
"So, am I doing good? I'm rather new to this, I must admit," I said. "But might I interest you in betraying your beloved Fervent, the grand hero of the city, huh? Then it'll all come to an end."
"You," she said. The first word she had uttered since being strapped and tied down in her chair. "You are a Kalos, aren't you?"
My eyes narrowed. I was certain she could feel the grip around chin tighten perceptibly. How did she know? How could she have known?
"And?"
"Why is a Kalos like you resorting to such methods?"
"Such methods? Am I not treating you very well, prisoner? You could very well be shackled in metal rather than ropes. You could have not had water for three days instead of hours. Instead, here you are, still a hair unharmed," I spat out. "What more do you want?"
"Soft," she said.
"Soft?" I sputtered. "I'm the first of my family to ever do something like this! I'm a pioneer! I'm a breaker of molds!"
Wait a minute. Why am I getting riled up by my prisoner?
"Anyway," I cleared my throat. "Tell me what I want to know. Or suffer!"
"Bah," Ardent said. "You Kaloses have always had a knack for this sort of stuff."
"Really? The torture worked?" I asked, delighted.
She looked at me again. Wait. That look in her eyes. Now softened considerably. It wasn't hatred. It was...
"No. It really didn't. But I suppose to gig is up. I don't exactly know what your plan is, but I'm certain you've found me out."
Found her out? I stepped back, confused. What the hell was she talking about?
"You're right. I've betrayed Fervent. I'm an undercover spy for the Apathetic," she confessed. "Kalos. Of course it has to be your family."
Wait, what?
"And even setting this up. It wasn't great, but I could see the effort put into this. I'm done. I don't want to do this anymore. Take me away and lock me up, Kalos," she said firmly.
I collapsed on my knees and yelled in anguish. Goddamn it.
---
r/dexdrafts | It all started when I kicked a beggar's cup. The coins scattered and clattered across the concrete, some being lost beneath the shoes of the myriad passersby. The pauper scrambled like a kid collecting the just-fallen candy from a piñata--only that his expression was dismal and full of despair.
"Stop begging, you filthy thing," I said through gritted teeth, the blood trumpeting in my ears. "Do something for society. Sitting around all day and asking for the workers' hard-earned money is the pinnacle of laziness. You are a parasite. Do better."
A year later, someone stopped me in the streets. He looked familiar. His nose was slightly crooked, yet the fine suit compensated for that.
"Sir," he said and extended his hand. "You may not remember me. I was begging a year or so ago when you kicked my cup--"
"Oh," I said and frowned. "I hope you learned your lesson."
"I did, yes. It was the anger that drove me to be better. I found a job a month after we crossed paths, and just yesterday I was hired by one of the big five with a splendid salary." He smiled. His teeth were perfect. "I've been trying to find you to thank you. You changed my life."
I shook his hand. Now it was me who was driven by anger.
That same day a granny asked me to hold her dog while she entered a shop, and I stole it. She found me an hour later and threatened to beat me with his cane.
"Madame," I said to her as I deflected her strikes, "the fact that I stole your dog is a flaw in your character. No one should ever trust strangers. No matter how well-dressed they are."
She clipped my cheek and drenched me in curses. Six months later I saw her on television. A reporter was interviewing her. Someone had imitated her daughter on the phone in an attempt to steal all of the woman's savings.
"A man tried to steal my dog once. I've stopped trusting people ever since, even my daughter!" she said and laughed. "Well, in all honesty, their voices didn't sound familiar, but I would've blamed it on poor signal hadn't that man stole my dog all those months ago."
That was it. I stomped my way to my parent's house and went off on them. "How is this possible? You have cursed me. There's something in our blood. I don't want to be like you. I don't want to be loved. I don't want to be noticed at all!"
"That speaks of a flaw in your upbringing, doesn't it honey?" my father said as he drank a sip of whiskey. "Who doesn't want to be loved?"
"Sure thing, Gerard." She rolled her eyes and took a drag of a cigarette. "Maybe if you had been present for him our child would appreciate us more."
"Oh is that so--"
"Shut up. I don't care about your marital problems. The past is the past. How can I make the world an awful place?"
"We've been trying to figure that out since before you were born, sweetie."
"What do you mean?"
A smirk hooked my father's lip. "All our deeds are terrible things. We talked to a judge to sentence an innocent man who turned out to be guilty. We send robbers to a bank and they found a paper full of the owner's corrupt handling of the client's money. We forced a bunch of what we thought were partying youngsters living a fantastical life out of the island they were living in, and well, if you have seen the news, you know how that went. Anyway, you get the point."
"Are you saying there's nothing I can do about it? That fate will intervene and change everything to be a good thing?"
"Oh no," my mother said. "Do a good deed and things will go wrong."
We all shared a look and burst out laughing.
I would vomit and die before doing a good deed willingly.
\---
Reader, may I steal a bit more of your time, you see, like the beggar in the story, I'm a pauper too, a man with kinks and degeneracy for a soul. I can only live out of your generosity. All I ask is a follow [on my profile](https://www.reddit.com/user/BeggaryAndBastardy?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share). It would be very much appreciated, and you can go on with your day knowing you've blessed a tarnished soul. | 2020-08-10T09:29:29 | 2020-08-10T09:03:36 | 27 | 18 |
[WP] Today is 08/28/20. Your 20th birthday. You go to take a shower and close your eyes under the warm water. When you reopen them you find yourself in handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit sitting in a courtroom. Utterly confused you turn to the judge and ask the date. Today is your 40th birthday.
\*Edit Wow I was not expecting this to become so popular. I like to browse r/WritingPrompts sometimes and when I thought of this prompt I just had to share it. Thanks for all the responses, I'm going to try to read thru them all. :) | Finally the bathroom was free! Typical family, even on my birthday they hog the bathroom. I rushed in, closed the door and jumped under the water. Closing my eyes as the warm water cascaded down...
...
I open my eyes. A court room?! I look around. The lawyer on the other side gives me a look of disgust.
A rotund man in judges robes shuffles out and sits in his chair.
"Captain Raymond Harrison. We the people under the gracious guidance of the Corporate Congress of America find you guilty of temporal manipulation, mass murder and high treason. On these grounds you will be executed in the antimatter chamber at dawn two days from now on August 30th, 2040. There will be no chance at appeal. This ruling is final."
The judge banged his tiny hammer. And the whole courtroom started to cheer and applaud.
Wait, wait, wait?! What are those crimes? 2040? Two days? So it's my 40th birthday but I'm in court? What the hell? This makes no sense.
Wait, Captain? Temporal manipulation? Murder? Last I remember I was showering on my 20th birthday. I was a B- student in general studies at a community college. Not any of those things.
I'm too befuddled to even say anything. I just give my lawyer a "what?" kind of look.
"Again?" She sighs, exasperated. "Time travel really ruined his mind." | I continue looking at the judge, “Linda?!” I ask, confused, why is my girlfriend the judge, and why is she old.
“Is this some sort of a birthday trick?” I ask, and I hear the sound of my worn voice.
“Very cute, but I can assure you there is no trickery here, Mr. Blundell” The judge, Linda , spat the response into my face
“Is there a conflict of interest here Mrs. Jones?” An advisory asks, Linda responds sternly “Absolutely not, we haven’t had contact in 20 years.”
My heart stopped. Mrs Jones? 20 years?
What the fuck happened in the shower? What have I been doing the last 20 years?
The first thing I need to do is get out of this court, nothing good can come from this situation.
I need to Better Call Saul this bitch.
“Mr Blundell, we request your representatives to return your plea”
“I need to shit” I say abruptly, standing. I should have asked her what happened but it’s too late now, I just need to get out of this place.
“Jack, please refrain from the language, we are in the middle of a court case right now for manslaughter as well as two cases of drug trafficking - now is not the time for ‘shitting’” Linda begrudgingly says.
Manslaughter? Drug trafficking? Oh my god this is bad. And she signed the whole sentence off with her classic finger quotes. And she’s judging me?! This is terrible.
“I have a right to shit, I won’t lie, I may shit myself right now if I am not provided a toilet, not as young as I used to be heh..” I say awkwardly, not knowing if they will go for this.
“Not as young as you used to be huh? Fine. Go.” Linda says, “Court Adjourned for 5 minutes”
“Thank you Linda”.
Now desperate times call for desperate measures, I walk into the toilet, once I get into a stall, I pull out my John tucker and piss all over my suit.
I see myself in the mirror, my eyes, dead, and my body, overweight. Not to mention covered in piss.
I walk back into the courtroom, and I must be 40 because this piss stinks! I see the disappointment in the courtrooms eyes, I can see how they just lost all respect for me. But if I can get back to 2020 then it’ll be ok.
“Mr. Blundell you cannot come into my courtroom in this manner, court adjourned until further notice” Linda announced, banging her little hammer.
“Sorry Linda” I say as I walk towards the exit, a man in a suit walks towards me, his hair slicked back, a gold chain seen behind his clean suit shirt, a huge ring and and the biggest mafia vibe I’ve seen.
“Nice work boss, but ya didn’t have to piss yaself eh” The man says.
Oh fuck. I’m in the future mafia.
——————
Want a part 2 lemme know | 2020-08-28T22:19:02 | 2020-08-28T22:18:33 | 22 | 15 |
[WP] "Hello class! we have a special guest! We have an Earthling foreign exchange student with us! Please have a seat and tell us about your planet!" | "Wait a minute dude she´s talking"
"What´s she going to talk about anyways? Scary animals? The wood poles with leaves? Or those weird things with fur all over their bodies? I tell you man, the school shouldn´t allow human freaks in here"
Galaenini was always like this, everytime there´s a new lifeform in our class he shuts them off, he´s a nice guy otherwise, but I still remember that time he looked at the Morpholian transfer student with his 3 golden eyes until the new guy cried, I hope it doesn´t go as badly this time.
"Calm down for a second, she´s not gonna hurt you, look, she barely even has any fur, just some on her head, that´s it. Now why don´t you look at the front now, the teacher´s gonna notice""Yeah but that´s not the worst part, look at those weird eyes, they´re all wet and strange, you can see the weird brown ball circling around, searching for her next target"
"She´s nervous, apparently lots of humans tend to look around like that when they´re uncomfortable, its normal, your eyes aren´t any better for that matter"
Galaenini looks at me like I just said something really stupid, and he sighs, I suppose he can´t really understand how creepy his eyes can be. I have to agree that her introduction is taking forever, its interesting though, apparently Planet Terra has a 70% surface of water, WATER! I am glad to know that she is carbon based, save for Leper at the corner of the class that´s something we can all have in common. My train of thought is interrupted as Galaenini tells me to look at something.
"Hey, what´s that red thing in her face? I´ve never seen that before"
"Oh, she´s doing the cute thing where the cheeks go all red and puffy, I don´t know what it means but I think they communicate that they´re happy in some way, we saw it in Biology last year"
"Wait wait wait, CUTE?"
Oh, here he goes again, I can´t say anything positive about any other species unless I want him to go on a tangent like this.
"I knew it, you think she´s cute, you always had a weird Xeno fetish didn´t you? What do you find cute about her?"
"Fuck no dude I don´t have a fetish, you´re the Speciest here, she´s talking about the blue sky and other stuff and you´re here gossiping about her without her knowledge"
Galaenini´s three eyes flinch in embarassment, and I can tell that comment hurt his ego a little, before he can say anything else the new student approaches our place in the classroom, I can almost see the surprise in Galaenini´s eyes when she doesn´t try to attack. There are no other seats available so she goes to sit right next to me, Galaenini glances at me like he´s about to witness a murder, I just stare back at him and chuckle.
Having to study next to a human is kind of strange, they always have that weird expression on their faces like their eyes are looking deep into your soul, don´t even get me started on those strange protusions on the side of their head, I think they´re called ears. Its creepy at times, but I can understand it, its always hard trying to adapt to a new life, but she still tries her best to be talkative and cooperative, she told me the other day it was part of something called "the human spirit" some of us find that weird, but I don´t really mind it. |
I stood nervously before the class of these strange looking people. When mom told me about a student exchange program, I though I would be traveling somewhere in the world! Yet she then said. “I’m surprised they are still doing this, because of Covid and all, apparently, this one doesn’t seem to bother or care… but… do you want to do this?”
I jumped at the chance.
I was sick and tired of being cooped up in the house, I was sick of this place, and the world for that matter. So I agreed to go. The problem was. I don’t know WHERE I was going, but it didn’t matter.
Anyway, no word of a lie, three days later a strange car pulls up and a man comes to the door. He wore a mask and all and explained he was from the exchange student program and was coming to pick me up. Lucky for him, I was so excited for this, I’ve been packed for months in advance!
Mom double checked the man’s claim and he even brought the form mom sighed off on. “Oh, what is this?” he asked as he held up the cheque.
Mom paused. “Oh, is it not enough?”
I froze. Did the price go up?
Mom and I have been saving for this. But the man handed it back to her. “It’s not necessary. Come, young lady, let’s go!” he said with a twinkle in his eyes.
I hugged mom and jumped in the car. I watched her wave until we vanished down the street… and the roads got really blurry… like… light speed blurry! When the car came to a stop, we were nowhere near civilization.
“What the hell…” I whispered.
Looking about, it appeared nothing more than a haul of a ship! The driver took off his mask and turned to me.
I was scared shitless!
His mouth was massive and filled with jagged teeth. “Welcome! Please pardon my appearance. I wore a mask as per earth custom. Please, come out, I wish to take you to your new classroom!”
“Classroom?”
I eased myself out of the car. Still terrified mind you, but at the moment, there wasn’t anything I could do otherwise! I had to go with it!
The strange man led me down the hall. “We have all adopted earth like names to make you feel more at home. I have taken the name of David, so please call me that.”
“Uh… Okay… but what’s your real name?” I asked.
He laughed aloud. “If I told you, you would have to announce it perfectly in my mother tongue, if not, you will offend me and also may accidentally swear or say something very offensive. David is fine,” he insisted gently.
I nodded as he led me into the ship and then, I was taken to a room and brought in.
They were everywhere!
Aliens of all sorts of shapes, colors and sizes. Some oddly I have seen in movies as bad guys, but they were there sitting rather politely and waved to me with great enthusiasm! I swear the predator one was winking at me somehow.
“Hello class! We have a special guest! We have an Earthling foreign exchange student with us! Please have a seat and tell us about your planet!"
I froze but gulped my pride. “Hi… I’m Lee. I come from Earth as David explained… uh…” I froze up, yet then again a sigh came out of me. “I’ll be honest. I got nothing to brag about my home planet, it’s an utter mess right now…”
Suddenly I had their undivided attention, even the teacher. “A mess you say? Please, explain.”
I was in too deep now. So with a deep breath I got into it. “My planet is dealing with a virus that can greatly harm a human. Some more than others, there was a simple way of containing this virus and it was merely for people to say at home and wear a mask when they go out into the world so they don’t catch this virus or spread it to others if they have it. But many refused claiming that it was against their freedom of rights, when in reality, they don’t really care. They have been told a mask isn’t necessary besides the fact it is. People have thrown their belief behind those they tend to follow as political leaders and spiritual leaders as well… Uh… so I need to explain either one of those?” I asked.
The teacher shook her head. “They are well aware of such things for many of them come from planets with those ideals, however each is different from another, please continue.”
I nodded. “As such, this virus is still running amuck and harming a lot of people, it’s sad though since the people who study this sort of thing are greatly ignored for the sake of normalcy. But it’s been like that often on my planet. My kind… humans… are destroying their own planet for the sake of wealth and money…”
One alien put up their hand. “What’s money?”
I reached into my pocket and took out a dollar bill. “This is money,” I explained. “We exchange it for good and things we need or what”
“Oh, like credits!” said another. | 2020-09-25T11:52:11 | 2020-09-25T11:02:44 | 23 | 14 |
[WP] You were summoned by a god to be the hero of a fantsy world, to kill the demon king and free their people, as a boon they told you you could request any weapon that they will provide. As a joke, you requested a intercontinental thermonuclear warhead, they gave it to you with a stright face. | Sometimes you do get what you wish for. All the anime I saw about the regular kid who gets pulled into a fantasy world secretly made me wish it happened to me... and it did.
The main character is always surprised and has no idea how anything works. I, on the contrary, was prepared. My story wasn't going to have 5 seasons of episodes. I'll end this in 20 minutes.
When asking for that intercontinental thermonuclear warhead, I wasn't sure if the goddess would know what it was, but she did. She offered it to me with a smile and then faded away.
As it happens, I am the main character who doesn't know how anything works... in my case, how stuff in my world works.
Now I am sitting here, in the middle of a field, with a thermonuclear warhead, hoping a kind merchant passes by and offers me a lift to the nearest city... where I need to find out how the hell am I going to build something to launch this.
Turns out I might have content for one season after all. | The God stared at what he had produced rather melancholic.
"Well I guess that's that." He gazed at me with accusing eyes.
I stared back apprehensively, wondering where this was going.
" For a millennia, I have been here nicely summoning people as 'heroes' in return for amusement. And now someone is going to doom this world into oblivion?" He started positively wailing now the more he spoke. I was also getting more positively alarmed.
I had thought it was a good idea and was starting to wonder if this God was right in the head. I didn't even know why I specified intercontinental. My stomach growled. I was probably in the middle of tucking into a continental breakfast. Thoughts of pastry, coffee was making me feel more morose and wishing I too need not be in this predicament.
Both he and I were feeling out of sorts and each were definitely feeling the worse as time went by.
God waved me over, to hand me the receipt and manual for using the said intrusive warhead towering behind us. I jogged over with my id tag dangling and possessions still miraculously on me in this world.
As he handed me my receipt, his eyes caught onto my tag.
"Comic con? What's that?" He catches my dangling tag. My merch spills out as he grabs my satchel too. There was all my Marvel universe memorabilia, pictures stuff I had been waiting for to get autographs.
God now sifts through, gaining knowledge apparently as he touched the merch. "Amazing" he murmurs, "what is this universe envisioned by mankind of your world? And there's 2d worlds?" I look to see him touching my 'DragonBall' badge.
"That's settled I am done with this world. You must bring me to yours when you are done!" He exclaims excitedly. "Well what are you waiting for? Off you go!"
He beams as I now stand here clutching my warhead manual and a bedraggled satchel. I trot to the exit of God's place. And find myself blinking, suddenly staring at another whole new universe where I now need to kill a demon king with no clue about this universe. I look back and see God is now perusing my Switch ready to delve into another universe.
- my 1st writing for fun. I lurk here to read. I don't write stories tbh. Just gave it a stab for fun. Your prompt seemed simple to understand :*D i am unsure any proper writing formats but curious to learn. Writing this on the go. Could have been clearer or expand more. Phew writing sure takes alot of time huh. And ofc hard i guess. | 2020-10-14T03:42:26 | 2020-10-14T02:59:54 | 154 | 49 |
[WP]: Turns out God was a slacker and gave "Free Will" to not have to "plan" anything. He kicked out Lucifer cause he was a control freak. When you die turns out you have a choice, between a chaotic rule free Heaven or a smoothly machine operated Hell. | "Look, it's all too much of a pain in the neck," God began, as I sat with him in the World-Between. "Put yourself in my shoes. If I make everything good for everyone who believes in me- money, health, all that- then everyone will believe in me. There's no faith in that- on the other hand, if I make it rain on the just and the unjust alike, then the unjust will use that to rationalize their lifestyle, and the just get nothing to show for taking the high road." God huffed. "As a deity, there's really no way to win. So I laid down my how-to guide for life, and left it all alone from that point forward. Just...let 'em be. Hell, considering how outdated that how-to guide is, I'll even accept nonbelievers into Heaven these days- like you. That's why we're here, having this chat."
"Meanwhile," sighed Satan, "I proposed an efficient system which balances your dilemma by merely providing a *smidgen* of Godliness to the people, and...well, that's why I rule Hell now, instead of being in Heaven."
"You wouldn't like being in Heaven anyway, Lucy-purr."
Satan licked his front paw. "Do not demean my name." His cat-like visage oozed an energy of indignation. "He is right, however-"
"Always am."
"*Not* always. Merely *often*. He is correct in this- I would no longer find Heaven to my liking. The people mill about with nothing to accomplish, and merely bask in the sun and, I don't know, drink lattes in lovely outdoor cafes all day. Fun for the first few years, but...the human condition *requires* something to strive for. That is the appeal of Hell."
"I...see." I said, though I didn't really understand much of anything.
"In Hell, we are building our strengths, we compete with one another in tournaments- we may be a little rough around the edges, but that is the very nature of trying to be the best. If the Warrior path is not to your liking, we also have our own Artisans, who produce weapons, armor, passionate art of all kinds- and we have Merchants as well, who make long pilgrimages between the planes. These are the only ones who taste both Heaven and Hell."
"My question is," I began, "why are you both wanting to convince me? Why am I commodity being argued over?"
"Remember how Lucy-goosey said he wanted to give mankind a touch of Godliness? Well, he went ahead with that, and I was...well, I didn't notice him doing it at the time. Clever bit of trickery, that."
"There's only one place God cannot look, and that's within the confine of Sin. So, to help humanity, and to help God, I had to join Sin. Wasn't the worst choice I've ever made."
"Let's not rehash that argument. Anyway- he gave humanity power. The ability to Manifest, to rationalize right and wrong for themselves, a bunch of little powers. Amongst them, since you all are Godly but not a God, you can traverse the many planes freely. Of course, that'll get you nowhere fast, as you haven't a map, or any way to navigate, you'll just get lost and be confused for forever..." God said- and the thought formed in my mind.
"You two have your little war to fight, and you need humans to do it with. The only option you *don't* want us to take is the third option- to leave your scenario behind."
"Well, yes, we don't want that, and it'd be less enjoyable for you, too- so just choose between Lucifer and I, and-"
"No. If I have the ability to stand in my own power, my own authority, and to roam freely, independent of this weird little power-game you two are playing, I'll take it. I will find my own way."
"Ah, damn it. You're the first one to do this, you know. Looks like we have more company, God." Lucifer said.
Then, automatically, I stood between the two of them, and a new soul came in to be judged.
I now stood as the third option- the choice of pure freedom. Only a part of me was there, however- the other part had a map, and a pen, and was exploring the infinite cosmos with good cheer and better company, truly free. | I chose Heaven. Of course I did I was a card carrying anarchist after all, in as much as that oxymoron could make sense, and the idea of a seething pit of rules and regulations boiled my blood even more than the fire would have. Not to mention the whole devil bit.
Don’t get the wrong idea though, I didn’t like God. For starters the whole religion idea had tacked “organized” right onto the front as soon as there were enough farmers to generate a priest or two and that irked me all to hell, but I soon discovered that wasn’t the half of it.
You see, at the time of my dying (at age 22, sporting an absolutely sweet leather jacket that I got to bring with me into heaven,) I was still naive. Unformed, even. I walked right up to the shining palace that stuck out of the center of the cloud kingdom like some kind of celestial Versailles and I knocked on the front door. Just like that in broad daylight, the word “appointment” not even popping through my head. They’d told me at the front gate that there were no rules and I took them at face value because they were angels, and honestly because that particular angel had been drop dead gorgeous. Weaknesses appeared to transfer right along with the jacket.
But I digress. I knocked on the door in the bright daylight and rather than open they popped out a tiny little eye hole in the bottom. I had to get down onto my damned hands and knees (which I strongly suspect amused them,) and put my eye to this little slit in the wood that could only charitably be called a porthole.
When I did I saw a child, one of those little flying ones they always used to paint on the walls and stuff, and the little bastard was smirking at me.
As I said I was an innocent in those days. I looked that pudgy kid right in the eyes, gave him my best smile and said, “Uhhh, Jack Pryce, here to see God.”
He paused for a moment, staring at me as if I’d grown an extra head.
“Are you fockin’ daft?” he said. I blinked hard at tone of his voice, having never seen a Chav with wings before and having not expected to encounter one in heaven.
“Uhhh no, I’m ok. Can I come in? I want to meet the big guy?”
The kid leaned in towards me, coming so close that his breath forced me away from the slit of the door. I was reevaluating the creature’s age upward with every passing second, his breath reeked of cigarettes.
“Big guy doesn’t wanna see anybody, least of all the new blood. Step off or I’ll call a Guardian. If you still want an appointment you can go start the application process over there,” he pointed to a dilapidated old hut set into a corner of the grounds, as he did so a shriveled old hand poked out of the window and waved. “Just head of there and Cecil will get you started, God will get to you sometime by the turn of the century.”
The hole slid shut with an unnaturally loud slam, and through the thick wood of the door I could barely hear a muffled “Piss off!”
In that way I found out the truth about God. He wasn’t like me, some kind of freewheeling radical thinker, he wasn’t even all the free. From the moment that porthole slammed shut I realized something that would have toppled the worlds of billions of people back home. God was a hypocrite. A massive lazy hypocrite who’d installed Heaven’s only layer of bureaucracy just to keep from having to talk to all his children. An omnipotent deadbeat dad.
Frankly I already had one of those, and I wasn’t ready for a second.
I walked away from God’s palace in a black mood, alternatively ready to get blind drunk or grab a pitchfork, whichever I found first.
It turned out Heaven had no pitchforks, but the booze was phenomenal.
When I finally came to a few days later I set out to rectify the situation. I couldn’t have been the only anarchist in Heaven, in fact I thought there must be a great many if I could only find them, and find them I did.
Truthfully it hadn’t even been hard, I just walked to a land where the men spoke mostly Russian and then kept walking until the beards grew long enough, and there, sitting on a rock overlooking a lake suspended among the clouds, I found Bakunin.
He was a hard man, in life and in death. He wore an old fashioned brown suit under a colossal, battle scarred black leather jacket even more awesome than my own. His beard was steel gray and reached halfway down his barrel chest. He’d been a soldier, a philosopher, a revolutionary, a prisoner, and then nearly all of it over again.
More than that he’d been my hero and became it again in that strange land of clouds and hypocrisy.
Bakunin needed no appointment, he stood on no ceremony. He fixed me with a gaze that threatened to break me and took my hand in one massive paw, man to man, as God would have if he’d really been one of us. Then, over drinks and cigars and rhetoric of a dream deferred even unto death itself he told me of the world he wished to make among the clouds. A world with no place for a reclusive God and his palace full of infuriating cherubs.
I swear my anarchist heart grew two sizes that day, and soon afterward his words mixed with my zeal and we came up with a whole new cookbook, just the two of us.
And soon two became many. And the many became angry.
And the palace door began to look decidedly flimsy.
\------------
If you enjoyed that I've got a ton more over at [r/TurningtoWords](https://www.reddit.com/r/TurningtoWords/)! I just released another part of my serial about 3 teens encountering a hive mind (20k words and counting, yay!) and there's other fun stuff like a wholesome take on Bloody Mary. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! | 2021-02-17T18:14:25 | 2021-02-17T17:45:48 | 206 | 144 |
[WP] An isekai where instead if just one person or class, the entire earth is transported and replaces the fantasy worlds moon | "What the hell have you done, Y?!" X screamed as he barged into the room.
Y gave him a smug look as she spun around in her chair. "Honestly, I've been getting tired of your generic isekai stories for a while, X. So, I decided to shake up things up a bit for once . Instead of just teleporting a small group of people, I've teleported an entire world!"
X stared at the massive monitor screen in front of him in shock. The yellow moon of the fantasy planet Helurion had vanished from existence. In its place was the blue green planet Earth from Dimension 817. "How in the heavens did you pull this off?"
"You should be more happy, X!" Y said, happily chewing on a bowl of buttery popcorn. "You're witnessing something that's never happened before in isekai history. It's gonna be so interesting to see how the different civilizations and cultures interact with each other. The ultimate clash between magic and technology!"
X turned around to glare at his colleague. "Sure, that does sound very interesting ... if everybody wasn't about to face imminent death."
Y's smile slowly slipped from her face. "What are you talking about?"
"You idiot, did you forget gravity was a thing?! Those two worlds are on a collision course with one another! In 17 hours, there's going to be nothing left but molten rubble!"
"Oh...fuck," muttered Y as the bowl of popcorn slipped from her ground and hit the floor. "That's going to be a lot of paperwork to deal with." Then, her face brightened up. "Wait, we can still solve this! We just need to teleport both worlds further apart into a different solar system!"
"How the hell are you planning to evacuate 10 billion souls in less than 12 hours?! Even an army of isekai trucks couldn't pull that off!"
Y smiled wickedly. "Oh, I don't need an
army of isekai trucks, X. Just mine." She pressed a button on the control panel and the image of the two planets on the monitor screen zoomed out.
X stared at the screen in shock. "What in the heavens is --"
"Behold!" Y shouted, jumping to her feet and causing X to jolt back in surprise. "The first of its kind, the Mass Transport Space Isekai Truck!" On the screen was a image of a colossal metal sculpture, larger than both of the two planets combined, idly floating in space. The faintly glowing rock had somehow been carefully chiseled and molded into a near perfect replica of a eighteen wheeler truck. Y grabbed a nearby microphone and shouted into it. "Ladies and gentlemen, prepare to be isekaied!" Down below, billions of souls on both planets held onto their loved ones and screamed in utter horror as they gazed up at the sky, only to witness a fiery death racing towards them. | Aside from the giant Dragon and it's rider, and the massive planet we now orbited, Earth was still earth. Satellites worked. Electricity flowed. The internet was awash with pictures of the towering blue gold beast and the grey skinned man standing next to him.
​
The various dignitaries from many countries were most upset that they had elected to land in a Kampala and not Tokyo or New York or London. We had been holding our collective breath for a several days now, since the stars had shifted and the sky became partially occluded by a whole other world.
​
Scientists had at first panicked about the change in tides, but there was little to no observable change there. Our moon still existed and was doing it's job. In fact the lack of effect on tidal forces was the second hint that whatever the new blue green sphere in the sky was, it did not obey classic physics.
​
"I have come to collect warriors." The mans voice boomed out. The dragon behind him seemed uninterested, staring back at the planet it come from occasionally and refusing to acknowledge the crowd.
​
Kampala University sits on the edge of lake Victoria. There are enough of the rich ocres and red browns on the buildings and streets surrounding. The statement caught the billions tuned in across the net aback, as why had they not chosen any of the soldiers packed into planes and boats and troop transport vehicles that were streaming towards the Ugandan capitol if they had sought warriors? The local police and military nervously shifted their rifles around. Maybe a tank round would do something to the dragon, but they doubted their weapons would do anything other than piss it off.
​
They had been tracking the dragons flight as it approached. As it crossed the void between planets, it glowed bright enough to attract the eyes of telescopes around our earth. Too slow to be a significant ballistic threat, but too fast to be the man on the back of a giant glowing dragon, they had calculated it's landing point and moved soldiers and dignitaries to as many of the expected locations as possible. They had gamed and modeled and employed the best diplomats and linguists to greet the traveler. The net was flooded with papers proposing different rational behind the why and how of the dragons flight. Was it an automaton that provided air for it's rider? If so, why was his face mask wide open in space? When it began circling the planet passing over the large cities, they had narrowed it down to Cairo and Egyptologists rejoiced at the return of their deities for a whole minute before again, the dragon and it's rider veered further south.
​
A young man walked forwards, smart phone trembling in his hand, fashionable wireless headphones around his neck. "This is Damba Okio, and I would like to welcome you to the end of the world! Please remember to like and subscribe!" The dragon and the rider's heads swiveled in unison towards him and a deep note caused the ground beneath them to tremble forcing the young man, Damba, to his knees.
​
"One." the grey man said.
​
A police officer, a woman surged from the crowd, weapon drawing a bead on the vibrating dragon and attempted to put herself in between the staring man and Damba.
​
"Ehh Damba! What are you doing?" She hissed through clenched teeth, struggling to bring him to his feet with one hand.
​
"Two." the grey man said.
​
The dragon surged forwards with a silky grace that belied its size. When it had finished the move, the two were mounted behind the grey man, and on the ground where they had been standing were two crystals, one red and one blue.
​
"If we are successful, they shall return." and with one giant wing beat, the dragon was airborne.
​
When the rest of the world arrived they found themselves in the capitol building gathered around a table on which the two gems sat. They could see over the shoulders of the grey man in one, and over the shoulders of Damba in the other as they flew ever closer to the strange world in the distance and further away from the Earth. | 2021-03-21T12:56:53 | 2021-03-21T12:21:08 | 23 | 15 |
[WP] It seemed like a perfect magical deal. When any child descended from you is born you grow younger by a single year. So you agree, planning on a big family and living to a ripe old age. Years later however you find yourself rapidly growing younger and regret not understanding exponential growth. | "It seemed like a good idea at the time." Jim lamented. "Gain a year of life for each descendant, what could go wrong?"
"And it went wrong." The bound man muttered.
"What gave it away? The fact that your great-great-great-granddaddy is a goddamn twelve year old." Jim sighed. "You know getting old was a bitch, your joints ache, your lose your hair and you have to piss 20 times a goddamn night. Doesn't sound pleasant does it?"
"I suppose not."
"It's awful. But you know what, getting younger is somehow worse. You wouldn't believe it but it is."
The bound man stared in a sullen silence at his great grandsire.
"I mean puberty is bad but try it in reverse. You still get the mood swings, the acne, the growth pains. But just try dating when you look like a kid, sure you have options, but they are definitely the wrong sort of options. And you know what, everyday you look down and your dick is a little bit smaller."
"What does any of that have to do with me."
"It's simple, I need you to help me prune the family tree."
"You must have hundreds of blood relatives, probably spread all over the globe, how the hell would I even find them." The bound man asked.
"I've not been idle all these years. Founded my own company dont you know. Just a small little internet thing, but I think it might just help." Jim smiled wickedly. "Have you ever heard of something called 23andme?" | Life begats life. This is plainly known. Less known is the magical potential every life holds. Even if it's never realized, it's possible to tap into that magical pool.
I was in my 37th year in this realm, which though it may not look like it, was a long time ago, when I struck upon a wondrous deal. How could I not leap at the chance. THreads of life continue from man to man through his (or her) progeny. And each new generation adds to the potential pool. It seemed like a stroke of luck when I found that i could youthen myself every time a descendant was born of my line.
I knew it would take time, which seems counter-intuitive. But I'd already sired seven kids, five of which still survive, and the oldest of which fathered a brat of his own. The way I saw it, the next ten years would likely be a wash, as I would regain those years as the children came of age and did what children do.
Over the next twenty years, more than twenty grandchildren were born. Many didn't survive their first winter, but I still felt their magical essence flowing toward me, like a cherub firing an arrow. And as fit as I'd become, I fathered a few more of my own, keeping myself perpetually in my 30s. Or so was my goal.
During a family gathering in the middle of the lull, I realized that some thirty-plus offspring under the age of majority. In a few short years, this could pose a problem, particularly since many of the young men had my handsome features, and most of the young ladies as well.
It dawned on my to speak to my children about playing matchmaker. I extolled the virtues of keeping the family bloodline pure. I didn't believe it this, at all, but I laid it on thick. Through intermarrying of first and second cousins, I could limit the size of the next generation to come. This solution seemed to work for a while.
And then the kingdom went to war. At first, this was a boon, as many of my great grandsons didn't return home from battle. On the other hand, there was Davrock the seed spreader, who could woo any barmaid or farmer's daughter out of her innocence. I had a devil of a time tracking down some of them. I would introduce myself and preach the danger of wanton lust and fornication.
But no one wants to be lectured by a fifteen year old.
With nary a sane idea left, my thoughts turns to hiring cutthroats, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Luckily, waves of plague and pestilence sailed through, diminishing the population for a short while. The kingdom recovered and I managed to regain an apparent thirty years of age once more.
After that, it was like riding a spring, with my age bouncing up and down faster than my waistline. And yet I managed to live for a couple hundred years.
And that is the story of how your great-great-great-great-great-great ... great... grandfather came to live until this very day. Now here are some pamphlets on family planning. You don't have to drop a new child every spring, you know. | 2021-04-15T11:22:56 | 2021-04-15T11:13:01 | 400 | 144 |
[WP] “And you shall be our virgin sacrifice” the robed cult leader commanded. “Uh virgin?” The man said “I told that guy I never had a GIRLfriend.” | "You are being released. Please proceed to the lobby where you may retrieve your belongings and sign a non-disclos-"
"Wait, is this because I told you guys that I have a boyfriend?"
"No. The ritual process has several requirements, each one increasing the odds of a successful cast if fulfilled. One of the most important ones is that of the virgin sacrifice, where-
"So I don't qualify because I've had sex."
'WHERE the the term 'virgin' does not refer to sexual abstinence, but instead a high degree of purity of mind and body. After further observation, we have come to the conclusion that you fail to meet either criteria."
"I'm not 'pure' enough for you self-tatted hooligans running around at night half-naked and painted in pig's blood you bought from the Asian store."
"You were drooling over initiate Justin while he chained you over the spike pit. And we found drugs in your car."
"To be fair, Justin's got a tight ass."
"Get out of my sight." | "Well, that's just great! What kind of friends have you had?!", asks the cult leader as he angrily re-sheathes the sacrificial dagger.
"I'm not sure that's any of your business.", I say, hoping he won't press the issue further.
"It's my business if you want to be sacrificed."
"I never said I did!"
"You volunteered!"
"For community service. It was a requirement of my DUI. I have a drinking problem."
"You clearly have lots of problems."
"Okay, rude."
"I'm just saying. There must be a reason you're hesitant to detail how you're not a virgin."
I begin to sweat profusely. My clothes are completely waterlogged within seconds.
"Well?!", he asks, pushing the damn issue.
"I've been with... things.", I quietly respond.
"Things?!"
"Yes."
"What sort of things?"
"I'm not sure I can say."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want another story to get removed by the moderators."
"Please do not break the illusion of story telling!"
"I'm so sorry."
"You should be.", he says while turning to the bookshelf behind him. He runs his fingers over the spines of the books until he arrives at one labeled, 'Sacrificing 101'. He retrieves it, turns back to me, then flips to a section marked by a pink index flag.
"Now, tell me. What things have you been with?"
"What's that?"
"It's a book."
"Okay, let's just both be difficult then."
"This will tell me whether or not you're still a virgin."
"It doesn't matter. I don't want to be sacrificed!"
"It's just for informational purposes. Don't worry. We totally won't sacrifice you."
The other cult members surrounding us snicker. Regardless, I'm still curious, so I indulge.
"My hand."
The cult leader looks at me with irritated eyes.
"A... watermelon."
He flips a couple pages to get to the W's. He mumbles "watermelon" repeatedly as he traces his fingertip down the page.
"Watermelon is fine. It has the seal of virginity approval. Anything else?"
"A flashlight that is not exactly a flashlight."
"Yes, I have one of those. It's fine. What else?"
"A beautiful, gigantic-", he cuts me off. "I swear to Satan! If you say what I think you're going to say..."
"Spid-", he slams the book shut before I can finish uttering the word he knew was coming.
"Get out!", he commands while pointing his finger to the door.
Great, now I'm going to have to pick up trash on the highway. | 2021-08-29T08:34:09 | 2021-08-29T06:41:51 | 188 | 39 |
[WP]A small tavern with good food is owned by the retired God of Balance. Waitress is a super-android 50,000 years from the future. Janitor is the best super soldier and general. Chef is the first and strongest mage. Bodyguard is the Grim Reaper who was fired. None of them know each other's identity | Ugh. What a night. I'm honestly a bit afraid to leave without giving some sort of notice but the thought of stepping foot in that place ever again makes me want to hurl. Yeah, yeah, I'll take another beer, and line me up a shot of Tullamore... No; seriously, you think *you've* had bad jobs? Listen to THIS shit:
I don't even know how I found the place. You know I've been out of work since COVID hit and things were getting pretty lean. I mean, there's only so many meals of rice and canned beans a guy's gonna eat in front of the TV before he gets a bit stir crazy, right? So I hopped in my old rust bucket beater truck and went for a drive to clear my head.
I'd been driving around for about an hour, just kinda wandering wherever the roads took me. I ended up out in the sticks somehow rolling down a dirt road with no name and no idea where I was or how I got there when I saw a light in the distance. "Ah, great!" I think to myself, "I'll stop in there and ask directions."
The first thing I see when I walk in is a big help wanted sign. At least, that's what it ended up being because it was the weirdest way of advertising a job opening I've ever seen: *'In all things there must be Balance. Balance between the abstract and the real. You stand in the doorway between what is and what could be. Do you dare to step through? Apply within.'* I have to admit it intrigued me a bit but I was there for some directions and possibly a drink, not to join some sort of doomsday cult.
I go up to the bar and this absolute SMOKESHOW of a woman walks out the back room...man, she musta been at least seven feet tall, absolutely stacked, muscles out to *here!* And you know how much I dig muscle-babes, always have and always will. Anyway, I'm gawking and she's staring at me for like a real hard minute. I coulda sworn I heard some sort of weird humming and clicking sounds coming from her eyes but it might have just been the wobbly ceiling fan.
Then she talked, and I'd be lyin' if I ever heard a voice like hers come from a woman. It was...flat. Like if a warm soda suddenly found the ability to speak. I'll never forget it: "IDENTITY CONFIRMED VIA FACIAL SCAN ALGORITHM. ANALYSIS COMPLETE. SUBJECT A IS LINCOLN HOOPER, JOB SEEKER. WOULD YOU LIKE AN APPLICATION, LINCOLN HOOPER?"
I told her...it...whatever they were that they could just call me Link and what I really wanted was a drink.
"NEGATIVE."
Well, what do you mean negative? I've got a few bucks, enough for a cheap well whisky, line it up!
"NEGATIVE. OWNER JANUS HAS ACCEPTED YOUR APPLICATION. CONSUMPTION OF HYDROXYL FUNCTIONAL GROUPS BOUND TO SATURATED CARBON ATOMS CAUSES IMPAIRMENT AND IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED WHILE COMPENSATION ACCRUAL IS ACTIVE." | The tavern was always full.
The gods looked at the assortment of the power contained within its walls, and they were rightfully scared. If ever, the tavern wasn't enough, if ever, they looked beyond, even their thrones in heaven could be in danger.
So they searched far and wide for a solution. It was then, that the trickster god sent forth a proposal. A proposal, that seemed extraordinarily impossible. But it was also their only chance.
The old woman entered the tavern with her little girl.
"Please... please give me something to drink."
The God of Balance looked at her and shrugged his shoulders. "You have to pay."
"Please I don't have any money."
"I'm sorry then."
"I could die."
"We can't give you anything without money. You give me something. I give you equivalent value. No more. No less."
The grim reaper looked at the old woman, his eyes widening. But he didn't want to give up his identity. For, he could see she was very close to death.
The Mage could've conjured up something for her to drink, but that risked exposure. And he was comfortable where he was.
The Android wanted to help, but she was just a waitress. How could she go against the owner.
The Janitor considered all the options. He realized that this could go very wrong. He also thought about why such an old woman would come to this place. He was considering all the possible options and scenarios and...
While they all thought, the unthinkable happened. The old woman died of thirst. Right there. In the middle of the tavern.
The little girl looked at her companion and started crying.
The god of balance moved towards her, attempting to comfort her. "I'm sorry little one."
"I do not need your apologies. What I desire is balance."
The god was taken aback. He saw that he had fallen into a trap. "What do you mean?"
"You took her from me. A life for a life. Balance. That's what I want. Since you took her life, I need to take one from you now."
The God looked over all his companions. They were all shocked. Except the janitor who was in deep thought.
The little girl turned back to the owner. "So who will it be?"
The God of Balance looked at all his companions. He couldn't let this happen. He couldn't condemn anyone to death. Where would the balance be in that? "Take me."
"So be it. I will kill you and send you to the depths of hell with my grandma."
The Janitor intervened. "Oh I can't let that happen. Take me instead."
"I could take you. If he says so."
The Janitor turned to the owner. "I know who you are. I've known for a while. You're too important."
The owner smiled, comfortable in his immortality. "I cannot let you die for me. This is my tavern. My responsibility. I will be fine. Come then. Go ahead. Kill me."
The little girl held up her hand and turned to the waitress first. "By your inaction, you have killed my grandma."
The waitress put her hands to her ears and shrieked, an inhuman shriek. She broke down in the corner, beyond any help.
She then turned to the mage. "For me to kill him, I need you to sever his soul from his mortal body."
The Mage was shocked. "I can't. I have a rule that I can't hurt anyone. If I do, I can never practice magic again."
"In order to be balance, you have to."
The god of balance was taken aback. But still, even if he had to lose this mortal coil, he could always find another. "Do it."
The mage did as asked. He then broke down in the corner, vowing never to cast another spell.
The little girl turned to the reaper. "For there to be justice, his soul has to go to hell. You can still do it. Take his soul."
The reaper paled. "I cannot do that. If I do, I can never return."
The little woman turned to the General. "Your king promised justice to me. I demand it now." To the owner, she said. "Tell me. Don't I deserve balance."
The God of balance, the owner of the tavern, hung his head. "So be it."
The reaper flew his soul down to the depths of hell, where he could easily be subdued by other gods.
The little girl finally looked at the Janitor. "You just allowed your king to be killed. You just lost 2 of your companions, the third being rendered worthless. If you had even an ounce of pride, you could never live with yourself."
The little girl smiled and walked out of the tavern, leaving the general to consider the gun that was hidden behind the counter. | 2021-09-17T07:47:38 | 2021-09-17T07:34:08 | 210 | 26 |
[WP] You're 5 years old, when you discovered that your brain can automatically learn "everything" about anything or anyone you touch. So you keep it a secret. | On my fifth birthday, it happened. As I hugged my mom, I suddenly realized I could talk. Not just simple words, but full complex sentences, in two different languages. Not just that, but I could read, do math and all sorts of other things.
I also gained enough common sense to know that this was not normal for a 5-year-old. I didn't know what had happened, but I decided to keep it a secret for the time being.
Trying my best to emulate the speech level of the 5-year-old I was, I managed to utter "I love you mommy!" while my mind was still reeling from my sudden wealth of knowledge and skills.
When I then tried hugging my dad, too, the same thing happened. It was a little less intense, of course, because I already knew a lot of what I learned in that touch. But still, my math skills improved, because apparently my dad was better at math than my mom.
I quickly realized that that was what was happening. Somehow, touching my parents made me instantly absorb all of their knowledge and skills. Well, the mental part, anyway. I still had a child's body.
‐---------------------------------------
The lightest touch was enough. That's what I found out at school. We were playing tag during the break, and I was "it". When I finally caught someone, I felt that surge of knowledge again, though this time it was only some classroom gossip that I had apparently missed.
Still, if I played my cards right, I could learn everything. I could become a multi-talented genius the likes of which the world has never seen.
A ladybug landed on my finger. And suddenly I knew what aphids tasted like.
Apparently, it worked on animals too.
‐----------------------------------------
A few weeks went by without me gaining much knowledge. What can I say, a five-year-old doesn't get to meet many people. We did visit my grandparents, and I learned quite a bit from them and their many years of experience, but after that things calmed down a bit. I couldn't learn anything from my classmates anymore, and apart from knowing how to teach, my teacher didn't teach me much of anything either. But then I remembered the president was going to visit my school today.
As I stood face to face with the man who ruled the nation, I summoned up all the courage I could muster to ask him that one crucial question.
"Mr. President, may I shake your hand?" | I was five years old when I had learned my mother killed a man in the 80s. At least, that's the age I remember intaking that information. She had grabbed my hand to cross the street one autumn morning and I was given flashes of her Toyota MR2 stained with blood across the windshield. I didn't understand what I was seeing, so I started crying my eyes out on the spot. I missed that day of kindergarten.
It was the first time I was acutely aware of my "ability". Obviously once I was aware of it, life became a lot more peculiar. Making friends was difficult, to put it lightly. Knowing when your supposed best friend is lying about taking the cupcake you packed in your lunch isn't exactly the best bonding experience. I carried this problem with me throughout elementary and middle school. Everything peaked around eighth grade when a bully grabbed me by the collar and got ready to beat the living shit out of me. I had grabbed his hand and blurted out the fact that he was seeing his best friends girl, and suddenly any fists that went flying weren't directed at me.
After that I got the nickname "Mole". I was the guy you went to if you needed something. Whether it was help on a history test, dirt on your literature teacher, or something else of the like. I was the brains of the school, and everyone knew it. Less of a freak, and more of a useful oddity. I had been called into the office multiple times for questioning of how I got this information, but when I just shrugged it seemed to just piss them off even more. I never charged people for the information I gave out, though I probably should've. Everything just came so easy to me because of my ability, I never saw the need.
I graduated top of my class and realized I could basically do anything I wanted to. Instead of empowering me, that thought weighed me down significantly. So many choices, what could I choose? Nothing made me particularly happy, having all the knowledge in the world at your fingertips made everything significantly less wonderful and enticing. In the end, I went into Archaeology. Studying artifacts was significantly less depressing than studying people, and something about seeing just how long something's existed was daunting but also intriguing.
My job was pretty easy, I quickly became the best in my field and was well known in the community. Both good and bad claims have been tied to my name, but I couldn't of cared less. I knew if I wanted to I could most likely destroy anyones career. Everything was going great, until I stumbled upon the most peculiar thing.
I had just been delivered some statues from an underground city that had been discovered. The figures resembled something of Mayan culture, but not quite. Chatter of an entire undiscovered civilization got everyone buzzed up, I had to admit even I was excited to see these mystery artifacts. I gingerly pressed my fingertips to the figure, and was left thoroughly confused. It was blank. There was no history, no flashes of people, absolutely nothing happened. In a panic, I pressed my other hand to the table. Instantly, flashes of a factory littered my mind and I sighed in relief. Losing my ability could never happen, I would be ruined. Now though, there were a lot more unanswered questions. Sheepishly admitting that I had no clue was the most humiliating thing I had ever gone through. The worst thing in the world to me was ignorance, and for the first time in my life I was experiencing it.
I asked if I could keep the figurines in my study for further examination, to which they agreed. I became obsessed with the things, holding them in my hands for hours at a time, waiting for anything to pop up, but nothing ever did. I would often fall asleep with them in my hands, to which I would get the most horrendous night terrors the mind could create. Sacrifices, bloody massacres, great tragedies, all of these things plagued my mind after dark. It took a week for me to connect the terrors to the artifacts, and it took another week for me to demand that they be kept far away from me. They were the only exception to ignorance is bliss. | 2022-10-21T10:23:55 | 2022-10-21T10:18:06 | 71 | 43 |
[WP] A man wants to sell his soul to a demon but the thing he wants in return is so dubious the demon is thrown for a loop. | “Let me get this straight,” said Azazel, standing in a run-down apartment choked with smoke.
“You want to be the color purple.”
“Yeah maaan, I mean think about it... How much stuff in the universe is purple, I could be,” pause for bong hit, “all of that shit at once. I’d be fuckin Barney and grape soda… AT THE SAME TIME.”
“Uhm, I don’t think that’s even possible, I mean I’ve had some weird requests but.. Tell you what, I’ll come back when your heads on straight, maybe then you’ll want something reasonable, like Kuwait or something.” As Azazel drew his return portal he glanced back at the kid and shook his head, “Purple, now I’ve heard everything.” | "You want whaaaaaaat?!" Fe'na was never taken for such a loop in her life. "I mean really I don't get this. Why would anyone want this?" She look at the man who sat down and negotiated business with her. "I don't think I'm asking to much. Its a win-win benefit for both of us."
The demon looked over the contract carefully reading the text again. "So you offer me 10% of your souls in exhange for the souls of your family and return of the ten percent of the soul that I have once you've gather me 10,000 souls in exhange for 10 acres of my kingdom in hell and a Dukedom." Fe'na look over the wording and saw that it was a pennies on the dollar deal for her.
"I don't get it. Why sell out your own kind? How will you even get the souls." The man smile and stood up to open his brief case, "If you look over the paper work. I've never broken a sin of the lord till now and my family is clean of sins through faith of your enemy. My work is that of a lawyer and on the side I am the Sunday school teacher for my church which puts me in prime spots for both pure and corrupt souls."
Fe'na tail wagged in excited before stopping, "I get that but why summon me and why give this up for dukedom?" He smiled and closed his case. "Simple, Ma'am. I spoke with an angel before me and heaven doesn't negotiate. If I can't save everyone then I have to look out for myself and my family."
"Its a deal." Fe'na said before writing on the contract and the man smiled. "Thank you." The man snapped his fingers and a larger demon stood behind him. "I told you I could do it, Lord Satan." He nodded and chuckled, "You win. Fe'na you lose, did you not smell the two type of ink on the sheet?" She looks at the red paper and with a more careful glance noticed that there was a stipulation that if she agreed to the deal she would offer her soul to the human. "You tricked me." Satan smiled, "More like he tricked us all. I bet 10% of hell that he couldn't trick one of my top Demoness into giving up her own soul. Enjoy being a maid you silly worm. I've got better thing to do." The man smiled as Fe'na demonic power flowed into him. | 2014-05-15T21:15:50 | 2014-05-15T18:07:44 | 95 | 68 |
[WP] A secretly immortal man is given a life sentence for a crime he didn't commit and now fears the discovery of his true nature is only a matter of time. | I've been in here for twenty years. People are growing very, very suspicious. I've heard the whispers, "Why isn't Gary getting older? How come Gary still looks like he's still in his thirties? How long has Gary been in here anyway?"
I know I need to escape. I've known I had to escape since I first got here, thrown into this cage for the rest of my life. I can't stay here. People will know. Eventually, everyone will know.
I've been digging a hole in my cell. It's slow work, but I've made good progress over the last two decades. I know there's an old maintenance shaft underneath my cell. I've been here twenty years, but the prison's been here for two hundred. Everything about this prison's well documented. I know the maintenance passage will be there.
Tonight's the night. I wait for everyone to go to sleep, and for the guards to do their rounds. I lift the tile from the floor of my cell, as quietly as I can. It's heavy, and scrapes a bit against the old concrete, but I manage to move it aside without raising an alarm. I squeeze through the hole and carefully put the tile back. Hopefully it'll delay my pursuers for a while.
I feel my way through the narrow shaft, in complete darkness. The shaft is so low I have to bend double. I know it runs east for a hundred yards, underneath the river, and then into the sewer system. That's where I'll be free.
I feel the stone walls of the passage turning damp. I hear running water. I'm close to the river now. I press my hand against the wall, feeling my way. Suddenly I feel the wall cracking. Before I can react, the passage collapses around me.
I'm trapped underneath tons of stone and earth. I can't move, can't breathe. I can't see anything.
Time passes. I hear a faint voice. "Prisoner number three five five, three four two, Gary Blake. Dug through his floor, then got caught in the collapsing tunnel."
"Poor bastard. No way he survived that. Fill in the hole and make sure no one else can get out from that old tunnel."
I try to yell, try to call for help. I don't care anymore if they know about me. I just want to get out of this suffocating darkness, a darkness I can never escape. But there's no air in my lungs. I cannot make a sound.
I hear the faint noises of machines. The noises grow fainter. They're filling up the collapsed hole with cement. The noises stop.
I'm going to be here forever. | He had lived many lives.
His first life was punctuated by the rise and fall of the Roman empire. He had watched the fall of the senate, the assassination of Julius Caesar that ushered in the age of the emperors. Silently, he'd stood in the shadows of that mighty city and traded wares, selling nick-nacks and trinkets he had collected from the years of history he'd witnessed. As the empire fell apart and the grip of reason slackened, he'd disappeared from the city.
His next life was far more grandiose, having escaped Rome before the sacking and fled from the Arab armies, he settled in Britain. There, he used his longevity to study the language of the Vikings and join them on their bloodthirsty conquests.
He then became advisor to the Duke of Normandy, and enjoyed a second conquest of England when it fell to William in 1066. Much blood was spilled, and the man was happy to fill his days with violence and occupation. So much so that he continued to re-appear as advisors to kings, witnessing the signing of the Magna Carta and the beginning of the end for all-powerful English kings.
Having fulfilled his carnal desires, he re-invented himself as a thinker. Appearing in Venice and Florence, he rubbed shoulders with Da Vinci and the other great renaissance thinkers. His days were spent drinking wine and recounting human history, helping to keep a semblance of truth to the stories. After all, he was the only one who lived them. Before long, however, he grew bored. He yearned for more action once again. Like so many times before, he slipped away and was forgotten.
He re-appeared at the new frontier, the most exciting time in civilised history. Attaching himself to a British unit, he fought his way across America and watched as the infant continent began to take shape. Unsatisfied with his side, he vanished into thin air.
He arose as an advisor to the presidents. First to George Washington, then to a line of the greatest rulers he'd ever met. Some were slightly naive, some were wise. He imparted his long years of wisdom and helped them shape the future of the new United States. His favourite, Abraham Lincoln, he helped to free the slaves. That was always a perplexing affair for the man. For he had witnessed some of the greatest empires on Earth in the hands of Africans, then witnessed them enslaved and treated as sub-humans. He did not approve. When Lincoln, the man he had most respect for, was murdered, the man was heartbroken. Again, he disappeared.
The life before this one, he appeared as a wall street player in the 1920's. The Great Depression did not bother him, as he was a man of long years for whom money mattered little. Instead, he lived through the decades and watched the United States once again embark on a great war. He joined a unit and led his men to bloodshed against the Japanese, a race he'd long studied but never lived amongst. He felt hollow, murdering with these relatively new tools that killed from so far away. He began to miss the glorious combat of his formative years. He missed the battlefield, where steel met flesh and you could see the anger and fear in your opponents eyes. When the new bomb was dropped and obliterated Hiroshima, the man should perhaps have been obliterated with it. For all intents and purposes of that life, he was.
For his final life, the man had went too far. He had been careless. He had been caught. The long years of wisdom and his love of combat, the highs of adrenaline that made even things like making love tiny in contrast, had been dashed by the way life now was. People no longer fought their enemies with their strength and will. Instead, war was conducted with buttons and rifles. The man had no love for it. His sorrow had driven him to take arms, finding a good sword and taking it to a town of people. There, he sought worthy foes. But there were none, and the sword cut a swathe through many before he was brought down with tasers and nets. He could not be killed, so they had thrown him in a cell. Now, the man who had vanished so often was afraid. He could not vanish, could not escape, could never slip free.
They had branded him a monster, caged him and studied him. Since the dawn of time he had watched these people, but now they watched him.
In his final life, the man was known only as 'Prisoner'
| 2014-08-18T03:57:26 | 2014-08-18T03:45:34 | 892 | 229 |
[WP] An RPG character is cursed with a higher intelligence than their player. | I can’t find the library. I’ve been doing laps around this town for a good 15 minutes, and I’ve seen no sign of it. I need to get there so that I can learn the location of the Ultimate Magic so that I can kill the Dragon King, but it shouldn’t be so hard to find the damn place. Maybe there’ll be an NPC who knows where it is in the tavern. I’ll check it out. I maneuver my avatar through the narrow streets of the gritty part of the town and into the dimly lit building, and walk up to the bar. Actually, I’m getting thirsty myself. I’ll go get a soda.
***
When I start going through my AFK cycle, I know it’s safe to talk. I nod towards the bartender. “Hey Saleem.”
He nods back, cleaning out a dusty cup. “You’ve been in here pretty frequently, Vajeel.”
“My player is looking for the library.”
“Has he checked out near the College?”
“Heh. Nope, hasn’t thought of that yet.”
“Has he seen the map of town on the table right behind you?”
“Nope.”
“It’s glowing.”
“I know.”
“Have you tried dropping him a hint?”
“I tried saying that I wonder how the scholars are doing, but I think he finds the College boring. He asked Ms. Zavah over at the shooting range 5 times, though.”
“Yikes.”
“Yup.”
“There’s no way in hell he’ll be able to beat the monster guarding the Ultimate Magic.”
“Nope, that takes actual strategy. He’ll probably try to use my Holy spell on it, even though it’s a blessed creature, which’ll strengthen it. I’ll probably die a few times before he thinks to look up the game guide.”
“Dude, I’m sorry.”
“Fuck, he’s back.”
***
Huh. My avatar is facing a table in the bar. I don’t think that’s where I left him . . . Is that a map?
| "Let's go with health," Peter said as he selected to upgrade Valan's hp to 600. Valan's strength was at a minimum of 40, his Luck was at 0 and his agility was 20. Valan's intelligence was leveled up to 46 with an amulet so he could wear a random ring Peter found in a chest. There was more to Valan, a character in a game called, "Sword of Loras."
"I'm getting kind of sick of this shit," Valan said to himself. He opened up his inventory, "No potions, why would I need any potions? That's right, I have 600 god damn hp!" Yelling at the screen from the inside, covered in electrons, existing or not in some sort of philosophical self aware perplexity, Valan cursed at Peter, the typical moron who's stance on video games was to save and keep trying until things worked out.
The two had fought through the Valley of Dawn and Peter was feeling pretty good about himself, confident, running on the high that comes with feeling like you are good at something. His mouth hung open and his tongue was dried out as he breathed heavy through his mouth, pushing Valan in the Pit of Downmoore.
"No," Valan begged Peter. "We're not ready. I'm only level 6."
"Let's do this shit," Peter said.
Clicking keys, buttons and the pop, the swirl of the dual shock joys sticks and the red light that showed battery all, on the outside felt real within Peter's darkened room, covered with empty bags and bottles and plastic sleeves; but inside the glass, the computer, the wires and electric fields, Valan, he felt things, he thought and why could he not be real?
"I've done this," Valan said, "at least a thousand times. I know it. I feel it programmed into my skin. We're missing something, you idiot. I still have my starting sword. I still have on this leather vest. You god damn--where are you going?" Peter stood up to take a piss.
Valan stood in the darkness outside the Pit of Downmoore. Peter, in the bathroom pissed and moaned and came running out without flushing or washing to the sound of a beep. He picked up his phone and said, "Yuh, let's go. I down with that shit."
He threw on his shoes and a shirt and grabbed his keys, while Valan sat down looking bellow, into an endless bleak and dark hole, thinking:
This world of mine, ah question what is real,
When knowledge makes even dust the wiser,
So that it soon thinks and sees the light break,
The line of truth between this world, the next,
The curse of gods, and punishments of suns,
For now I think and am only alone.
He dropped a rock into the pit and listened to it fall, hearing no clink. "I would like to know what a friend is. I am on a mission of sorts, I must be, though the cut scenes have been skipped. In my heart, I know I must keep going for her. I do not know her name. I feel her however."
The front door opened. "Peter," Valan said, smiling, "you are back. I am thankful for that. With time, you will learn and we will find the Loras--what are you doing, get away from that button--Peter, you idi--Peter!"
Peter grabbed his wallet and turned off his X-sphere 420. "I'm guna get fucking drunk," Peter said.
| 2015-01-09T13:06:11 | 2015-01-09T12:22:19 | 249 | 13 |
[WP] Birthmarks show the wounds that caused you to die in your previous life. Someone investigates old murders through looking at birthmarks, a birthmark-detective. | It was strange, how children decided who was popular in their class. There were the obvious factors- beauty, money, and murder marks, but there was also the subtle. What color shirt you decide to wear on casual Friday, or which piece of playground equipment was your favorite.
People said it was natural, a child's aversion to murder marks, though I never believed it. There was all kinds of psychology behind the marks. Heavily marked individuals were less popular, less likely to get jobs, and more likely to live in poverty-filled areas due to the death radius. Adults fawned over children with no marks, and ignored or even showed outright disgust with obvious ones, especially on the back, over the heart, or on the face. Mothers taking photos of their newborn baby took care to drape a cloth or arrange their hands so the baby's mark was covered.
I was a lucky one. My mark was light purple, small, and on the side of my head, indicating a brain tumor and easily covered with my long, brown hair, which I am told I inherited from my death mother. My biological mother fixed hats and headbands to my head when I was small, until my peach fuzz had grown to something more substantial.
My husband, John, is also lucky, although a little less so. The two small, light brown spots on his chest were easy to hide, but indicated an accidental shooting. Investigators traced it back to a nearby hunting accident. John's death father was loved in the community, so John, although it was a known accident, was ostracized by his neighbors. Luckily, his parents moved to a city, where no one knew the story behind his death marks.
John and I moved to the small town of Roamer after his mother died. We attended the death ceremony, which was traditional. His mother's body was shown while everyone paid their last respects, and then, her death daughter was revealed- a small, beautiful blonde baby, with a purple round mark on her left arm, indicating a heart attack. The baby smiled and gurgled at John as he dropped the stem of lavender into her crib, and we left soon after. On the ride home, John put his head in his hands and sniffed quietly. I decided not to mention that the baby had his mother's eyes, although he had to have noticed.
Roamer was a beautiful town, mostly consisting of older, retired couples. "Retirement towns" had gained popularity recently. Those who could afford to would travel to the nearest one to get pregnant and birth their baby, nearly guaranteeing a natural death mark, and their monthly rent would help out many of the elderly couples. With a death radius of an average of thirty miles, the more isolated the town, the better. In the middle of Wyoming with a population of 340, Roamer was the ideal birthing town.
We moved into the birthing complex in May. With only four rooms and a shared living space, it wasn't the most romantic building, but there were no other couples booked at the same time for us. The midwife told us that the town wasn't very popular, since the nearest city was more than three hours away, and that we would likely have the house to ourselves for the entire birthing period. No one had stayed there for three years.
The town was exactly as described- quaint and tiny, with about 300 retired folks over the age of 80 and middle-aged nurses and caretakers filling in the rest of the population. The main events of the town were fishing and listening to the radio. It was exactly what I had always dreamed of when thinking about my birthing town: sleepy and safe.
We got pregnant quickly. There was a feeling of excitement in the air. The residents of the town were excited to see something new, especially a baby. Since it was such a small place, we were close to many of them, and they would often come by with cookies and lasagnas and discuss baby gifts and names with us. We shared our hopes- a little boy or girl who would enjoy playing ball and drawing- and our fears- that we weren't quite ready to be parents. Our elderly neighbors would laugh and reassure us, saying they never knew a couple so well-prepared.
There was also tension in the air. A new life meant that one of them would, likely, pass soon. A child with no death marks was considerably rare, as a death radius can grow with no potentials. This was a town full of them.
But our pregnancy was a relatively happy event, and we were supported by people who now felt like family.
Just two days before my expected date, an older man named Daniel died in his sleep. As awful as it sounds, it brought me a feeling of relief. Now we knew to expect a natural causes mark, a simple, purple square on the bottom of her foot. It would also allow us a traditional death ceremony. My husband and I discussed which feature we would like our baby to inherit from Daniel, and we agreed that he had a wonderful singing voice. The death inheritance would be Daniel's last gift to the world, and we hoped it would be something beautiful.
I began labor on time, two days later. Attending were two nurses, my midwife, and the sheriff, to sign off on Daniel's death certificate, which would show Daniel as our baby's death father. I clutched my husband's hand as the midwife caught the baby, quickly wrapping it in a blanket to hide any potential marks until the sheriff could examine them. My husband cut the cord, and they took it to the other room to clean and examine it.
A few minutes later, a nurse, the sheriff, and our midwife came back through the door. The nurse looked shaky and the sheriff was pale. I chalked it up to it being their first birth in a while. The midwife calmly handed me the wrapped baby, saying, "Congratulations, it's a boy," as the sheriff unclipped his walkie talkie from his belt.
I smiled at the baby. "Jeremy, right?" my husband whispered, and I nodded. He kissed me on the forehead as I unwrapped the blanket.
The cloth fell away to reveal eight angry, red circles smattering my baby's chest, arms, and neck. They glared up at me and I nearly screamed, my eyes tearing up. My husband let go of my shoulder.
Vaguely, I could hear the sheriff speaking into his radio. "We're going to need a thirty-mile radius around the birthing center. Over." | “I’m telling you,” Sarah said, pushing me away lightly as I tried to glance at her shoulder, “I’m fine. I just want the physical so I can get back to work.”
“I know you are,” I said, lightly grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her back over. “There’s nothing wrong with you now. It’s what happened in the past that I care about, though.”
“What are you talking about?” she said, prying my hand from around her wrist, her sky blue fingernails pushing back my own. She was a young woman, no more than fourteen years old, but that put her right in the age range I needed. Most of the victims had been found within the last twenty years, all of them sharing the same, recurring birthmarks. She appeared to be no different, save for the reports of dreams Chief had told me about. That she’d seen a man in her sleep for years, following her and haunting her as she grew. The victims usually didn’t recall anything from back then, but she did—or at least I hoped she did..
“Have you ever heard of birthmarkology?” I said, fully expecting her to react like all the others. It was either followed by a long, awkward pause, as if I’d just made up the word, or a series of uncomfortable laughs. Yes, technically I did make up the word, but I knew it had merit beyond its name. So many scars, so many births bearing the slashed-shapes of recently deceased victims couldn’t just be coincidence. It wasn’t pseudoscience and it wasn’t the insane babbling of a once-renowned detective. It was real.
“Yes,” she said, “I read about it in *People.* Don’t tell me you actually believe in that nonsense.”
“I do,” I said, letting her go and watching as she walked back over to the long, gray examination table. I was actually the first to notice the shapes on newborns, the influx of birthmarks in peculiar regions. I’d been working a case at a hospital, examining a corpse with a star-shaped gash in his throat. We had no leads on who had done it, no idea whether or not we’d even find the person. As I left the hospital, I stopped off at the nursery—just to get my mind off the gore. A baby in a crib toward the center of the room caught my attention right away, the exact same star-shaped mark on its neck. It wasn’t a gaping wound, however but simply a birthmark. I brushed it off at first, but the more I studied the marks on the newborns over the next year, the more I realized it wasn’t just a coincidence. “I’m the person who started it.”
“You told me you were a doctor,” she said, pushing herself onto the table, the tear-away paper crinkling from beneath her.
“I never said doctor,” I lied. I had told her I was a doctor on multiple occasions, but hoped she’d forgotten. “I’m a detective, and I have reason to believe you were murdered.”
I didn’t connect that the newborns were the victims, a reincarnation of sorts, until recently. I was talking to the mother of a victim, pointing to a child with a birthmark slashed across his neck while she called me insane, called me insensitive. She was between insults when she paused abruptly, watching the child I’d been permitted to question from the one-way glass. She told me he had such familiar mannerisms, that the way he pushed his hair back with his left hand was almost exactly the way her son had, not to mention how familiar its blonde was to her deceased child. She mentioned that her son had used to sit almost exactly as the boy had, one leg crossed under the other, with the right one tapping incessantly. Used to drive her insane, she said, nearly shaking the entire house down.
“What?” Sarah said from atop the table. “Are you insane? I’m clearly alive. You’re talking to me right now.”
“Were murdered,” I said, emphasizing the *were.* “Right now you’re fine, you’re alive, but a previous version of you was murdered. I believe by the same person who has killed several other people I’ve been working with, a person that is still out there. ”
“I don’t understand,” Sarah said, glancing at the door. I could tell she wanted to go, but I couldn’t let her leave yet, not after I’d worked so hard to get her alone.
“Your birthmark, the one across your neck. It looks a lot like a slash, doesn’t it?” I stared at the brown mark splashed over the skin of her neck, a vertical line over the flesh. It followed the same path as all the others I’d seen recently, a swooping motion like a crescent moon. I’d begun to think of it as the calling card of whomever had done it, bringing forth a generation of people with the same, brown scar.
“My mom always said it was like a smile,” Sarah said. “I don’t really feel comfortable in here with you. I would like to see my actual doctor now.”
“Look,” I said, taking a step toward her and placing my left hand softly on her shoulder. The scar had the same curve as the others, the same partial swirl toward the end. Just a few hours prior, I’d watched a bag get pulled up and over the body of a man with a nearly detached head, the skin of his throat slit in almost the same exact pattern. I was sure she’d been a victim in the past, killed by the same man. “I just need to know whether or not you remember anything. I need to know about the dreams you’ve had, the recurring one with the man. Can you talk about that?” I paused. “It’s very important, you can save lives.”
“It’s always the same man,” she said, her eyes falling toward the floor. “A tall, white man staring down at me and laughing. I’m always out of breath in the dream, lying on the floor of an unfamiliar hallway. I can never scream or talk back. All I can do I can simply stare up at him while he laughs.”
“Do you ever feel tension in your neck during it?”
“Yes,” she said, her eyes growing wide. “My neck always feels incredibly tight, like I can’t swallow. How did you know?”
“What does he look like?” I said, heart pounding against my chest.
“White, curly hair, older man. He always wears the same button down shirt in my dreams, light blue—almost the same color as my nails. He has thick, black glasses and a tattoo on his wrist, but I can never tell what it is. Looks like a raven or a hawk or something. ” She glanced down at her sky blue nail polish. “He has a pink scar going down from his left eye to his chin, also.”
I pulled a black notepad out of my pocket and began scribbling down what she’d told me.
“It’s a crow,” I said, hand shaking as I attempted to form the words. I closed my eyes, the colors of the nursery flooding into my mind. I’d seen that tattoo dozens of times, the hands of its owner wrapped around the fragile bodies of the marked newborns. He was a nurse, or some sort of hospital employee. I’d occasionally see him working the nursery, standing by and softly rocking the crying children back to sleep, always staring with me at their peculiar birth marks. I’d always wanted to ask him about the scar, but never did.
“What do you mean?” she said, staring at me, her head slightly tilted.
“I know who killed you.” I closed the notepad and slipped it back into my pocket, then grabbed my car keys before making my way toward the cedar door.
“You know this is crazy, right?” she said, pushing herself off the examination table. I turned and stared at her.
“I know,” I said, turning back to the door and pulling it open.
| 2015-03-03T12:13:38 | 2015-03-03T07:12:18 | 144 | 85 |
[WP] A magic coin gives the owner just enough money to get by, until they can finally support themselves, then they must give it to another person in need.
I was inspired by the story of St. Peter and the coin in the fish's mouth. | Finding the person who needed the coin most wasn’t ever going to be an easy job. When Katie had passed it to Lloyd she’d said how hard she found it, but she was determined to find the right person, and he was glad she’d gone to the effort. On the very day he’d lost everything one good thing had happened and he wanted to be able to do the same thing for someone in the same position. The coin tugged at him every time they passed someone who could have used it. It seemed like there were hundreds of people he’d gone past, and he hated himself for it, even though he knew why he’d made the decision to keep going. He remembered reading about a mother who was going to lose her home if she couldn’t keep paying the mortgage. People had done what they could to help. That help hadn’t been enough and he was hoping he’d be there in time.
When he reached the house Lloyd could feel the coin tugging harder than it had before. He couldn’t help smiling down at it, glad it agreed with his decision, and knocked on the door. A woman, the woman he’d seen in the newspapers, opened it, looking tired. “I’ve come to help you.”
She shook her head. “Thank you, but it’s too late. I can’t pay the bank and they’re going to take my house in the morning.”
“They aren’t.” He gently took hold of her hand and put the coin in it. “I know this is going to sound insane, because it did when I was given the coin, but this will help you. The bank won’t be able to take your house, because you will have paid them. Just promise me you’ll pass the coin on when you’re sorted.”
For a long time she just stared at the coin. “Yeah, right.” She looked at Lloyd again. “I don’t need jokers coming around here doing things like this. Life is hard enough without…”
A phone ringing in the house cut her off. Giving him a look of disgust she slammed the door in his face and went to answer it. Smiling, Lloyd went to sit on the wall nearby, waiting for it to happen the way it had to him. He didn’t know how long he sat there. It didn’t matter. When she stepped out of the house he knew she was looking for him. “That was the bank.”
“Do you believe me now?”
Looking down at the coin she nodded. “I don’t have a choice, do I? Apparently my entire mortgage has been paid off. I’m not going to lose my house.” She smiled, but it quickly faded away. “That at least means I’m going to have shelter, but paying the other bills, and buying the groceries, and getting the children’s school things…”
He stood. “I promise you the coin will help with all of that. Keep it until you don’t need it any longer. Then pass it on.”
“I will.” She brushed a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to apologise for.” | *Tienes que pasarlo.*
Yes I know.
*¿Y sabes por que?*
I know why.
*Porque ahora tienes empleo.*
He stared through the etched glass window. The sunlight coming through broke up into a bland white, bathing the interrogation room's sterile walls. He sighed.
Look, I made a mistake, and you caught me. That's it. I knew the rules. You don't have to repeat them.
The guard smiled. He brought his hands around from behind his back, relaxing the muscles in his chest, satisfied that his posturing had done its work. He shifted the rifle sling on his shoulder, about-faced and left through the teal door.
Miguel looked down at his hands, realizing he'd been nervously intertwining his fingers. He wondered if he could've gotten further, the border at least? Most of the checkpoints had been so easy, but those had been local police. The soldiers, on the other hand, knew better. The border would've been impossible.
He heard the door open.
*Senor Valdez*
Miguel looked up to the mustached man suddenly smiling over him. Neither said anything. The man's sunglasses reflected Miguel's surroundings back at him, the small room warped around his face. The man's smile slowly faded and he took a small breath.
*You are aware of course who I am* he said as he sat in the chair facing Miguel, resting his hands on his paunch. He spoke in a punctuated tone, every word enunciated so distinctly, almost with amusement.
General Vincara.
*El unico.* Miguel said nothing. Vincara took off his glasses and his eyes squinted into half-moons as he smiled again. *You have been...what should I say?...a very bad boy.*
Miguel swiveled his head to look out the window again. You know why I ran.
*Ah, si...si, and you know why we stopped you.*
Not really, actually.
Vincara looked bemused for a second, then grinned again, *But of course Sr Valdez, for the coin.*
The coin doesn't matter and we both know it.
Vincara nodded. *Maybe not. Certainly not beyond the border. But then why run? What did you hope to gain?*
I don't know...a way out.
*But why do you think we started this program? Surely so you would be happy here?*
I had a job before, and I lost it, and I lost everything, your coin won't stop that from happening again, and where will I be then? Hoping it's passed to me again? Me out of the thousands? My empleo makes no difference, and your coin makes none either.
*But you see, Sr Valdez, that is where you are wrong. Anyone, cualquier pobrecito, can have the coin. It's hope, Sr Valdez, esperanza, tell me what is wrong with that?*
It's a lie
*Claro. Una mentira. But we are all prone to our lies Sr Valdez. You don't even know what you hoped to do by reaching the border, but it gave you something to fight for, yes?*
Miguel said nothing.
*Now, Sr Valdez, I need you to tell me where the coin is.*
Miguel turned and stared into Vincara's sickled eyes. There was a blackness in them, bottomless. The two men stared. Vincara's smile faded and his face became hard. Miguel tried to maintain his composure, but could feel his voice shake. Are you going to kill me?
There was a long silence. Vincara yawned and stretched his arms over his head. *No Sr Valdez. Do you really believe you are the first to run? So many run. They think they'll go somewhere better. We catch them of course, but we are not butchers. Just tell me where the coin is.*
Miguel stared out the window again. I left it next to the fork in the road before Las Colinas check point, where I was picked up.
Vincara smiled again. *Thank you Sr Valdez.* He stood up and started to leave. *Oh, and of course, enjoy your new job.*
Miguel stared out the window.
The guard saluted Vincara. "Did he tell you where the coin is General?"
"Yes but don't bother. Call Rodriguez and have another one issued."
"Si General. And this one?"
"Take him out in a plane and throw him into the ocean. Leak to El Diario that he was last seen escaping across the border."
"Si General." | 2015-09-10T11:00:29 | 2015-09-10T10:35:59 | 28 | 14 |
[WP] To the rest of the world, they are archenemies, a superheroine and her supervillain nemesis. To you, they're Mom and Dad, the best parents in the world. | "What about you, Toby? What do your parents do for a living?"
"Well, my mom goes out at eleven at night and comes back at seven full of glitter on her body. She tells me she's a
clown at the circus! And dad has a bunch of guns and he sells this big packs of really white sugar to people who come to our house, so he's a coffee cop, I guess."
The teacher pressed her lips together and raised her eyebrows. "Okey!" she said, turning to Jim. "Jimmy, what
about you?"
Jim thought back on his mother and father. "Well..."
He wanted to tell the class that his father had once been the famous superhero Power Dude. And he wanted to tell everyone that his mother had been the notorious supervillain Lady Psycho. He wanted to tell the whole class about how his father and mother fought for years all across Alpacatown, until the day their real life personas – Eric and Ellie – fell in love and got married. After marrying the love of her life, Lady Psycho never attacked the city anymore. And Power Dude decided he had better things to do with his time than dressing in spandex and chasing petty thieves. So, a few years after Jimmy was born, they both retired their costumes, without ever finding out each other's identities.
Jim wanted to tell all that to the class -- but not even his parents knew that he knew about their secret identity. Let alone other people.
"Jimmy?"
Jim looked up. Mrs. Williams was smiling. "My dad's a lawyer," he said. "And my mom's an architect."
 
Back home, Power Dude and Lady Psycho – or, as they were dressed at the moment, Eric and Ellie – were fighting
again. While Jim ate his dinner in silence, his mother was going on and on about how Eric never listened to her.
She was going on and on about how he was distant lately and how he wasn't the same. Eric, on the other hand, was going on and on about how Ellie only thought of herself and her needs, and never saw things his way.
The usual fight. Jimmy had a memory of his parents fighting a lot less, back when they still had their secret night jobs. Now it was just argument after argument, every day.
In a way, it was kind of better when they beat the shit out of each other in costumes -- there would be no anger left in either of them by the time they got home to their real selves.
Ellie got up from the dinner table, turned away and heavy-stepped towards the window. Eric crossed eyes with Jim, then looked down at his plate.
And then Jim had an idea.
 
"You're saying there's a show and tell at school about superheroes and villains?"
Jim nodded at his parents. "And I wanted to take Power Dude and Lady Psycho!"
His parents exchanged looks. "Well, Jim… we don't know Power Dude and Lady Psycho…"
"Plus," his mother added, "they both retired a long time ago, Jim."
Jim put on his best sad face. "Yeah… I guess I'll just go with my Superman action figures…"
On his way to his bedroom, he glanced back at his parents. They were exchanging looks.
*Excellent.*
 
"And this is my Lex Luthor." Jim showed the action figure to the bored classroom. He looked out the window. Still
nothing.
His father had told him that he had 'called' Power Dude about the show and tell, but couldn't promise anything
about Lady Psycho. His mother hadn't said anything about it, but Jim had spotted her glancing at her supervillain
costume hidden in her closet while she thought he was asleep.
"And this…" Jim continued, grabbing the Wonder Woman action figure. "Is Wonder –"
The window burst in a million pieces, and Power Dude's imposing figure climbed through. He stopped by Mrs.
William's desk and, fists resting on his hip, looked around the classroom: "I understand I was called for a show and
tell here. Who is Jim!?"
The classroom was ecstatic. Everyone cheered. Power Dude walked confidently to the center of the room and –
"So we meet again, Power Dude…"
The faces turned to the door. There, dressed in the black and white suit she hadn't put on in years – Lady Psycho.
Jim smiled.
"So we meet again…" Power Dude said, in a low tone. Husband and wife stepped towards one another like Clint
Eastwood and Lee Van Cleef in a 60's spaghetti western. Somewhere in Italy, Ennio Morricone whistled.
Jim watched as his parents stopped eye to eye in front of the class. Lady Psycho pulled her laser gun.
Power Dude laughed. "That thing doesn't even work anymore!"
Lady Psycho turned the gun in her hand and checked something on the back. "You know what, it really doesn't. It's way past the expiration date." She looked up. "It doesn't matter! I can destroy you with my bare hands!"
Around the classroom, the kids started clapping and chanting: 'Fight! Fight! Fight!'
Mrs. William looked kind of startled. She was filming the whole thing with her phone, nonetheless. Power Dude and Lady Psycho back at work? This was huge news!
And then Lady Psycho threw her fist. Power Dude avoided it. He kicked, she crouched. The fight went on and on as
they stumbled through the four corners of the room, knocking chairs and notebooks and desks all around.
In the end, Power Dude managed to overpower Lady Psycho, and the city was safe one more time.
"I'll be back, Power Dude!" Lady Psycho said, at the door. "I'll be back to conquer this city once and for all!"
Bruised and on the floor, but with a smile on his face, Power Dude looked up. "I'll always win, Lady Psycho! The city
is safe with me!"
And then she was gone. Soon after, Power Dude followed, leaving behind the promise that he would return and the
kids could sleep safe at night knowing their hero was back.
Everyone clapped. Jim got an 'A'.
 
That night there was no fighting around the dinner table, but rather an amusing and amicable conversation about the return of the city's famous superhero and villain.
"I wonder if she's back for good," Eric said casually, avoiding his wife's gaze.
"Well... if *he's* back for good I'm guessing she is too," Ellie replied.
Jim got up. "Well, I'm off to bed. Good night mom, good night dad," he said, on his way to his bedroom.
"Good night, honey."
Jim pushed the door. Before closing it completely, he watched his parents caring for each other's wounds on the
couch. He saw them smile and kiss, then turn to the TV, hands around each other's shoulder.
Jim closed the door, smiled and went to bed.
Power Dude and Lady Psycho were back.
_______________
*Hey there! If you liked Power Dude and Lady Psycho, I've once written a [story on how they met!](https://www.reddit.com/r/psycho_alpaca/comments/3dpfw3/wp_a_supervillain_and_a_superhero_are_roommates/) You don't really need to read it in order to understand this one (or the other way around), but if you wanna know more about them, there it is =)*
*For more stuff, check out /r/psycho_alpaca =)* | "She's controlling you!" Billie cried at his father.
There was no dawning moment to narrow his hairbrush moustache. No rustling uncertainty to make the paper budge. Billie's mother, who was behind the man sitting at the kitchen table, didn't even turn around to acknowledge the accusation. It took Billie a week to muster enough courage to say what needed to be said. The boy couldn't stand to be ignored by his father anymore. Billie's mother must have forced him to, and it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair!
Billie's father chuckled.
"Stop laughing!" the boy cried.
He didn't stop. Shoulders bounced, and the paper was set on the table so the father could wipe tears away from under his glasses. "You hear that Veronica? You're being controlling."
Billie's mother finally turned around, stern lines cracking into a smile for the man at the table. "Well you *are* having spaghetti for dinner, whether you like it or not."
A tongue stuck out at her. Then she giggled. Billie didn't know his mother could giggle.
"Leave out the spaghetti sauce this time if you could dear."
"But that's the best---"
Billie pounded the table with two small fists. Steaming coffee sprayed in a scalding arc towards the boy. Before Billie could react, he found himself under his father's arm in the other side of the kitchen. The mother tutted with her back to them, waiting for the water to boil.
"You do not take your anger out on things, Mister Destructo."
Billie's nickname for when he was venting. Tearing curtains. Throwing burger patties. Being a brat. It made him more mad.
"Then stop *ignoring me!* She must be forcing you to ignore me, I *know* she is! Every time *she* wants something, you just go with it!" Billie screamed. "You... you don't even *fight it!* You just---"
"Why should I?" his father rumbled above him.
Billie tried to wriggle out from the large arm that held him above the kitchen tiles, but couldn't budge an inch. "Because I want to learn about the things *you* like Dad! I love both of you, but it's always what *she* wants, and what *she* gets, it's not fair! You're ignoring me because she tells you to, and it's not---" The boy lost his voice. Whatever words he meant to continue saying turned into a whimper. The cold tiles touched his bare feet.
"Son," the father said slowly. "There isn't a good cop or bad cop when it comes to raising you. We've told you this before."
The boy nodded, trying his best not to dribble. His mother didn't like cleaning up bodily fluids from the kitchen tiles. So he wiped it away with a sleeve and fought to get his words through a tight throat. "She's not even a real cop, dad. I mean, she doesn't even---"
"Don't," his mother commanded. Billie turned, but her face remained hidden, facing the pot.
"It's alright Veronica," his father offered. "Say what you want boy."
So Billie did.
Billie's father didn't chuckle.
"Hmm," he started, his moustache stretching with concern. "You've been watching the news."
Billie nodded.
"We told you not to."
"*She* told me not to."
"If one of us tells you to do something, it comes from both of us. You know that too." He stopped for a moment, walnut brown eyes boring into the twelve-year-old. "Billie, just because your mom doesn't send me to jail doesn't mean she's controlling me. Your mother's strong," he smiled. "The strongest I've ever known."
"Then---" the boy was breaking up again, and rose a messy sleeve to shield his eyes. "If she's so good, why aren't you in jail? Why does she keep you here, when she doesn't let me play games with you, or why can't I show you my report card anymore, or---" the boy broke down. "What's the point of you ignoring me if she's so strong?! Why can't you just be in jail if you ignore me anyway?!"
His father embraced him, with two large, sure arms circling around him. "I'm not a good man Billie, and we both want the best for you. When you're older, we can do father and son things. But for now..." He set two heavy hands on the small shoulders of his son. "I love you too much. Your mother thinks I should be around anyway. For moments like this." He cleared his throat in a forced cough, turning his head violently away from the boy as the supervillain struggled through his own words. "When you need to be reminded who I am."
Billie froze. Then the boy shook his head. "Dad, don't go out again."
"Then do we understand each other?"
Billie did not respond.
"Son, I'd do anything for you."
"And he means it," Billie's mother said from behind the boy's back.
He turned around to face her. "Mom, let me watch a movie with him in the living room," the boy whined.
"You're picking the movie," his mother replied. "And he won't talk to you, as he always---"
"*NO*!" Billie screamed. "I want to watch *his* movies, and talk with him! I want..." For a moment, Billie forgot what he wanted. Then the pillow he cried into the last three nights came to mind. "I want to have a mom *and* a dad!"
"We know," his parents replied. Billie couldn't tell what went across their faces in that moment. He was shielding his eyes again.
"Billie," his mother said. "Your father means it, saying he'd do anything for you. Living in this house reminds your father he doesn't have to." The boy looked up at his mother to ask what she meant. A green pair of eyes barely made their way through the lines across her face. She always looked tired, but it was the first time Billie had seen her smile twice in the same day. "He struggles hard enough to control himself so I don't have to. And I don't want to. I'd rather have us sit down now and---" She spun around, slippers stomping on the tiles towards the stove. "Oh shit. Den, I think we're doing Chinese tonight."
"Sounds good sweetheart." Then the man got up and towered over the boy. "Your mother's going to have to ground you for speaking to me, you know that right?"
The boy nodded, too drained to say anything more.
"That's a good start boy. Your mother will know when you're ready for us to talk." As he turned around, the boy grabbed the man's dress shirt.
"When will that be?"
His father shut his eyes for a moment.
"Den," Veronica whispered.
"I'm *fine,*" the man groaned. Then he stalked to the stairs, where Billie's mother would carry dinner up to him later. As she always did, except on Thursday evenings. Billie knew he wasn't allowed downstairs on Thursday evenings. It was their one time a week to have dinner together at the kitchen table. But Billie had to know why his father ignored him, and broke their evening ritual.
"Two weeks without TV," his mother said.
"I know." He was prepared for this.
"And I love you too."
Billie took two slow steps towards his mother and embraced her. "I'm sorry."
"It's ok. Just..." She tested a few words around her mouth as burnt pasta continued to fill the room. The simmering stove was ignored. "Don't watch the news again. And don't talk to him again. Please."
Billie's mother never said please before. "When will I be ready to talk with dad again?"
She kissed his cheek. "If you learn how to forgive him."
"No, I don't care what he does, I---"
"Son," his mother looked at him with a familiar, stern look. "You will have to care eventually. *Then* if you can forgive him afterwards, I'll let you speak to each other."
The boy was crestfallen. "Blowing up a building doesn't seem that bad."
"No," the superheroine replied, as her shoulders sagged a little. "No it doesn't."
"So why---"
"I'm ordering Chinese," his mother said. "Anything you want?"
Billie looked to the steaming stove then back to her. "Not anymore."
------------
*More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!* | 2016-04-02T22:55:42 | 2016-04-02T20:02:42 | 758 | 110 |
[WP] You have a sentient voice inside your head which knows the answer to every question you have but refuses to tell the future. Suddenly you hear "Pack your laptop, Swiss army knife and leave in 5 minutes, else you'll regret it."
[deleted] | "Why?" I asked myself, face contorted with confusion. "What's wrong with you?"
*Just do it. Have I ever lead you wrong?*
"Well, no, but-"
*Go. Drive to the Shenandoah forest and run as fast as you can, deep into the woods.*
I heard the front door slam and looked down at my watch. "It's only 3:30, dad doesn't..." My eyes widened and I shoved several belongings into a backpack before climbing out the window. As I slipped down the shingles, I heard a loud crash inside the house and lost my footing, spinning into the ground with a smack.
"Shit, did I break something?"
*No, you're fine. Keep going.*
Stumbling to the car, I fumbled with my keys until the lock clicked and collapsed into the car. With a screech and some heavy breathing, I'd gotten away safely and onto the 95.
"Will you tell me what's going on?" I asked, nervously checking my mirrors.
*Not yet.*
I changed lanes, and so did a black sedan a hundred feet back. "Is that car following me?"
*You should assume you're being followed.*
I clenched my jaw and sped to 85mph, weaving between cars driving at a reasonable pace. My heart was accelerating alongside the car, leaving my body tingling.
Several hours passed and I was driving up Skyline Drive, driving as fast as the constant loops and curves allowed me to. Normally, I drive slow and enjoy the view of neverending green below, but...
*Turn here, drive into the forest and run.*
"Can't you just give me something? *Anything*? What's with the urgency?*" I was panting the words, practically out of breath just from the anxiety.
*They're coming. Maybe not right now, but soon, they'll come for you. You need every moment to hide.*
I felt the warmth of tears welling in my eyes. "What's happening to me?"
*Just listen to me and you'll be safe. I'll keep you safe, you know that.*
There was no debating that, so I drove a few hundred feet into the forest, grabbed my bag and ran into the woods with all my might. In a matter of minutes, my legs burned and lungs constricted, but I knew I had to keep going. I had to.
After several slow, excruciating hours dragged by, I stopped at a small waterfall to rest. The water was refreshing, but my stomach was yelling in agony.
"What do I eat?"
*We'll find food.*
I looked down at the river rocks, glimmering in sunset's light. "How long am I going to be here?"
*Hopefully, a long, long time. I'll keep you safe.*
I curled into a ball and fell asleep along the riverbank.
The following day, I scavenged for food; there isn't much in the Shenandoah, though. A few berries and plants, but not much else. My legs were in a shouting match with my stomach, leaving me dizzy and disoriented by the sound of it.
"I can't go on like this."
*You have to.*
A faint whirring sound emanated from somewhere in the distance, deep and powerful. I looked around, but nothing seemed distrubed; the forest was peaceful.
"What is that?" I asked, still looking around. It was getting louder.
*They've come.*
I scrambled to shore, slipping on a loose rock in the stream as I crossed it. I felt the ground rush hard to my head, and in moments, I was alone in the dark.
----------------------
I awoke in a hospital bed, groggy and sore. The world was fuzzy, and light looked a little odd, like life was a painting. My father was beside me, his face a palette of emotions that I couldn't discern, like colors blended into a bleak brown.
"What..."
"It's okay, just rest," my father said, touching my hand. "Just relax." I could feel his hand trembling against mine.
"What's wrong with me?" I asked myself internally.
I was met only with the dull silence of my mind.
----
^*/r/resonatingfury* | "So, what do I call you?" I said inside my head. It was always weird to hear the reply. You know how – and lets be frank, everyone does this – you talk to yourself inside your head? You're talking but not really talking, except you can hear your voice in your head? Imagine how it would feel if one day you heard a voice that wasn't yours.
*"You can call me whatever you desire."*
To be honest, at first I thought I was going crazy. That I was hearing voices inside my head. But people who are going crazy aren't aware of that fact. At least that's what I was telling myself the first couple of days. What really convinced me that I wasn't going crazy, however, was the fact that this voice was never wrong. I'd open up a random article on Wikipedia, the voice would tell me all about it, and then I'd confirm that everything I had heard was correct.
"How about Bob? You sound like a Bob," I said as I hopped on my bicycle and headed home from class.
Bob would answer every question I would ask, except for two types; those regarding the future, and those regarding why Bob was there with me.
*"Bob is sufficient."*
"So, Bob, can you tell me which numbers are gonna win the Powerball today?"
*"My apologies. I cannot tell you that, as I would be interfering in future matters."*
"Right. What are we gonna do today, Bob?"
*"My apologies. I cannot tell you that, as I would be interfering in future matters."*
"Jeez. That was a rhetorical question."
I arrived to the apartment complex, chained up my bike, and went upstairs to my apartment. The day had been long, and I was feeling a little drowsy. I lay down on my bed and tried to have a conversation with Bob.
"Tell me a little about yourself, Bob."
*"My apologies. I cannot tell you that, as I would be interfering in future matters."*
"Dude, you are so uptight. Ease up."
*Silence.*
"Are you some sort of artificial intelligence planted in my head?"
*Silence.*
"That's it! I was abducted by the CIA and had some sort of advanced chip implanted in my head. Right?"
*Silence.*
"Or a divine being? An angel? Oh, I know! A guardian angel!"
*Silence.*
"Come on, man. Alright, look, I'm sorry I said you were uptight."
*"Get up, now! Get up!"*
His words caught me off guard. For all the time that I had known Bob – not long, just a few days – he was always emotionless. His words were always devoid of emotion. But now, I could almost feel what he was feeling. Panic, fear, anxiety. A sense of urgency washed over me. I could do nothing but comply with what he said.
*"You don't have much time,"* he said hurriedly. *"Your laptop is on your desk. Put it in your bag. There's a knife in the drawer. Put it in your pocket. The key to the padlock on the bike's chain fell under the desk when you put it there. Pick it up. You have five minutes."*
"Okay, okay," I said as I followed the orders directed at me. "What's going on?"
*"We don't have much time. You will know later. Get on your bike."*
I made my way downstairs and towards the bike. I fumbled the key as I tried to unlock the padlock, but I finally managed to unlock it.
*"Head to 7th Street."*
"Can you please tell me what's happ-" I heard a loud crash behind me as a black, window tinted sedan was zooming past traffic towards me. Bob was right. He always was.
"What do they want from me?"
*"They want to kill you,"* he said matter-of-factly. *"Switch lanes onto oncoming traffic."*
"But there's a semi driving there!"
*"Just do it!"* That was the second time he showed emotion. I was starting to think he was a human. But how was he communicating with me? Why me? Why is someone trying to kill me?
*"I know what you're thinking. You'll know soon enough. Switch lanes and pedal straight towards the semi. Tuck your laptop in front of your stomach."*
I did what I was told. The semi was about twenty feet in front of me, and so was the sedan behind me.
*"Remember when you were a kid you would pretend to slide your bike under trucks? Now's the time to do it."*
I didn't know if it would work, but Bob was never wrong. My heart was racing as I pulled on the brakes and tilted my bike. Going sideways and tilting to the side, I lost control of my bike, but I managed to slide across the asphalt under the semi and give myself major road rash. I heard a crash behind me, which I could only assume was the sedan colliding with the semi.
*"You're clear for now. Make your way to Agatha Plaza. You'll need to use your laptop there."*
"Can you just tell me what the hell is going on? Why are people after me? Just who the hell are you?"
*"You are very important. You are the ancestor to one of the most influential people who will ever live. I will tell you all you need to know. But first, answer me this. Are you willing to do what it takes to save the world?"*
I was stunned. Me? An ancestor to one of the most influential people? Who will ever live? As in the future? There was only one answer I could really give.
"Yes."
---
Added part two below. Will continue later today or tomorrow. Thank you for reading! | 2016-09-22T07:49:49 | 2016-09-22T07:44:34 | 347 | 186 |
[WP] You're one of those dads that went to the gas station for a pack of cigarettes and never came back, but you had a damn good reason. | I walked into the gas station. "Marlboro Reds, please."
The cashier smirked. "You really shouldn't smoke."
"You really shouldn't stick your nose into my business."
"That was rude."
"Ya know what? Fuck you, I'll go to the next gas station." I knew she didn't care. She was paid minimum wage to run that register and didn't give a shit how good business was. Still, it felt good to not spend my money there.
As I headed to the door, a tingling sensation came over my body. At first I just ignored it, but it got stronger and I felt something like an electric shot when I touched the door handle. I nearly fell over, but I caught myself.
Things around me seemed strange. They were mostly the same, but different. A guy was staring at some sort of device in his hand. It looked like a cellphone, but wasn't anything like a cellphone I saw. Must've been a rich kid, but he didn't dress like one. As I looked around, I saw more and more people with them.
I reached in my pocket and called my wife. She seemed amazed that I had called and demanded to know where I'd been.
"I just stepped out for some smokes."
"Why did you leave?"
"Like I said, I needed smokes."
"Don't fucking play games with me!"
"Honey, what's wrong?"
"Where are you?!"
"At the gas station, sweetie."
She called me a pig and hung up. I wasn't sure what was wrong with her, and I went to my car. Except it wasn't there anymore. Someone stole my car! As I reached for my phone to call the cops, a woman with a man in his early twenties approached me. She looked like my wife, but older.
"No way," she whispered. "You haven't aged a day."
"Is it really him?"
She nodded. "It's him. I don't know how, but it's him."
"What are you two going on about?"
"You called me. Luckily I happened to be in the area, and we decided to pop in."
"No, I called my wife."
"I am your wife." She gestured to the twenty year old man. "And this is your son."
"No, my wife is twenty five. No offense lady, but you passed twenty five a while ago."
She walked to the stack of newspapers for sale and showed one to me. Blood rushed to my head and I nearly fell over. September 27, 2016. What the fuck?! It had been 1996 a second ago! I darted for the other newspapers. Each one had the same date. "How is this possible?!"
A familiar female voice spoke behind me. "You really shouldn't be so rude to strangers." | He slid into the booth seat across the seat from me and knit his hands together. It's been 16 years since we saw each other last, but there was no doubt that he was my son even without the Power Rangers t-shirt and that horrible bowl cut. He was a man now, wearing an expensive-looking suit and round glasses. He looked smart. Maybe a lawyer or something. The knife of guilt twisted a bit more as I realized that I’d missed multiple graduations, in addition to so many other events. A quick glance at his ring finger assured me that at least he wasn’t married. Maybe I’d get to be there on that big day sometime in the future.
“Mom told me that I shouldn’t come,” he started without bothering to exchange some pleasantries first. His voice was a deep baritone now, not too different from my own.
I nodded. I’d tried contacting her too, but she hung up the phone as soon as she heard my voice. I just assumed that she threw away the letters and deleted my emails too. “How is she?” I asked over the lump in my throat.
He smirked. “Good, now.” The implication was clear: *now that you’re not in her life anymore.* “Remarried.”
“Of course.” She always was out of my league anyway; no surprise that some other guy had recognized that after I left. I thought that I'd feel some kind of anger about being replaced, but there was nothing. Just regret that some other guy had lived my life for me. “Well, that’s good.”
The waitress came by and asked if we wanted anything. I was grateful for the interruption, however brief. We both asked for coffee, both with cream and no sugar. I smiled a bit as I realized that we both took it the same way, but my son remained stone-faced.
“So,” he asked as she bustled off to fill the order. “You wanted to talk?”
“Yeah.” I took a deep breath. I’d practiced this a thousand times. I played it out in my mind every night as I tried to fall asleep. How I’d say it. How he’d react. It was never going to be easy but now, in the moment, my mind was wiped blank and my throat was tight. I cleared my throat and took a drink of water hoping that would help; it didn’t. “I just… I want to say sorry, first of all.”
He gave a soft, sarcastic snort. But he didn’t say anything; he just arched his eyebrows, waiting for me to continue.
“I know how hard it must have been for you all. I mean, we certainly never had it easy even when I was around. But your mother, she’s a good woman. I knew that she’d do her best for you. And look at you!” I gestured at his nice clothes. “You turned out great!” None of this was part of the plan. This wasn’t how I’d pictured it at all.
“That’s it?” His words were dripping with acid. “No big deal, because it all seems to have worked out in the end?”
“That’s not what I’m saying!” I was sweating through my shirt by now. I was granted a short reprieve as the waitress came over with two steaming mugs and placed them in front of us with a short smile. Then she hurried away from this situation as fast as she could. “I’m just… I’m trying to say I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He glared at me and crossed his arms. “And I just want a chance to explain *why* I left.”
For the first time, he smiled. “You want to *explain*,” he repeated. “Of course you do. Same old Dad. Same old excuses.” He took one sip from his coffee, then stood up. The smile was now a sneer, barely concealing seething rage. He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a nice leather wallet, from which he pulled out a $5 bill and let it float down to the table. “Exactly what Mom said you’d do. Well, I’m afraid I don’t really care to hear them now. So thanks for the coffee. It’s been great catching up.”
Then he turned and strode away. The bell over the door tinkled, and I was left at the booth with tears streaming down my cheeks and two mugs of coffee to myself.
-----
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| 2016-09-29T09:03:37 | 2016-09-29T08:42:55 | 697 | 176 |
[WP] You snap your fingers, a car explodes. You stomp you foot, the earth shakes. You wave your arm, and a building crumbles. You didn't cause any of this. You are... Coincidence Man.
My first writing prompt! Plz don't murder me.
Edit: Real quick, this was the paragraph that I wrote. "I am a man with strange powers. I stomp my foot, and the earth shakes. I snap my fingers, and a car behind me explodes. I wave my arm, and the building to my right crumbles. However, my actions had no bearing on what happened, nor did my power. You see, the earthquake had been scheduled to happen for around six months. The car had a full tank and a gas leak, when the man inside decided to light a cigarette. And the building had been being weakened by termites for years. I didn't actually know any of this until after the fact... My name also explains my power, and my name? It is Coincidence Man." | Coincidence man, guy without a plan.
Chance is his game, luck is his middle name.
Give him nothing and you shall see,
Coincidence man will make you flee!
With an arch of his back, the buildings fall flat.
Another stretch of his arms and he sets off alarms!
An innocent yawn spawns incidents here,
Such as the spontaneous explosion over there!
But disastrous acts are not his only doing,
Coincidence man's got more stuff brewing!
He bends for a coin which sends a ball to your groin!
His bubble gum goes POP and your troubled bum shows SLOP!
How can we be safe? What shall we do?
When Coincidence man can make us unwillingly poo? | Michael examined his handcuffed hands. The lock was solid, the metal firm. He wasn't slipping his hands out of them - right now, at least. He sighed. *It just wouldn't look right.*
"Hey guys. Perhaps you should reconsider this," he said raising his hands in a praying position in front of his chest.
He snapped his fingers.
The car parked behind the four men exploded showering the Dublin back-street with bits of metal and flame.
"What the hell? What the hell?"
"Get him!"
"Take cover."
Michael ignored their panic. He waved his hands, trying to attract their attention.
"Guys, focus here. Here. Me!"
He got the attention of one goon.
"Good. I'm the one you want to surrender to."
"Surrender what? You're crazy. Flanna-"
The building in front of Michael crumbled covering the men in white dust. One fell, coughing.
The other two looked uncertain. Michael seemed like a devil suddenly conjured up amongst then.
"Could you please line up over there..." Mike gestured towards his side. "...drop your weapons on the ground. And put your hands... Here! Focus here. I'm your way out of this. Is this really the situation you want to be in? You guys are obviously outnumbered. There's no backup. Flannagan, sorry the "big guy", obviously set you up. Do you really want to take one for him? You think Flannagan would take one for you?"
They wavered.
Mike stomped his foot.
The earth trembled as something exploded behind the three. All three dropped to the ground.
"Is my point made?"
"Yeah, yeah we understand you."
Groggily the men began to stumble towards him laying their guns down by his feet.
"Who are you?" one asked.
Behind Michael the car still burnt providing him with a devilish halo. He grinned.
"Coincidence Man," he answered with an atrocious Irish
accent.
From her position down the street, from where she'd co-ordinated the explosions, a raven haired woman emerged. She trained a pistol on the three thugs as she tosses him a set of keys.
"It's terrible, Michael," she laughed, "everything's a repeat these days." | 2016-10-27T03:55:29 | 2016-10-27T00:32:33 | 25 | 15 |
[WP] Deeply misunderstanding the term "universal healthcare", aliens have begun arriving in Canada, seeking medical attention. Canadians, being Canadian, are too polite to correct them. | "Oh, uh, what seems to be the problem here, buddy?" John said. It was the 10th alien he had seen that day, as the check-in nurse at the ER in a hospital in Vancouver. The alien was a purple blob with two eye stalks and at least as many limbs.
"IHUH8hfdnbaf97y- (*&_&FBhbvagv606)*(* jn jfndab606))^)," the alien said. It then coughed, and a yellow slug fell out of what John hoped was its mouth. "Ah, that's better. As I was saying, my polar gladiax is all spreckly. I think it has something to do with the magnetic field on Ratel, where I was visiting a groobling for a party. You know how it is.
"Ah, okay, buddy, well I'll log that down and see what I can do for ya."
"Thanks, human. You guys are alright."
*****
"It's been three years, when are the Canadians going to wise up to what's going on here?" US diplomat Jim Hunter said to his UK counterpart, Boorish Counterbottoms. "I'm telling you, it's an invasion!"
"Well, they've only asked for healthcare so far," Boorish said. "I'm just as surprised they don't swim 'cross the pond. Ah well, not our problem then."
"But why don't the Canadians just tell them to go somewhere else? How much money are they spending on this? I swear, ever since they legalized the Devil's weed, they just don't give a shit about anything."
"Well perhaps that's it. The extra tax is being used. Last I heard, I think they are getting something out of it, though. They haven't been telling us any specifics as far as I'm aware, but they are getting some tech trade going."
"Tech trade?" Jim was intrigued. He hadn't heard anything about this, and it made him wonder if the British agencies just shared more with their diplomats, or if there was something his government didn't know. "Yes, that makes more sense."
*****
The purple blob, healed now, sat across from Justin Trudeau. "Yes, we can give you warp drive. I'm surprised you didn't have it already, considering you provide health care for all beings in the universe."
"Yes, well..." Trudeau began, before stopping himself. "Yes, anyway, the warp drive would be very helpful to our people."
"Oh, it's nothing, that slabar was streckling my polex like a Guaranian texstute! Anyway, we have plans for you that will be easy enough to duplicate."
"We can't thank you enough."
*******
Ten years later, Captain Jones stared down at the Earth from the mothership of the Canadian Space Force. All around him, ships shaped like maple leaves and hockey pucks maneuvered around each other like falling snowflakes.
"Everything ready?" the new Prime Minister over a secure radio channel.
"Yes, sir," Captain Jones said. "This will be known as the day that Canada became the first country to emigrate from Earth."
"Right well, let's get on with it. It's time we Canadians stand up for ourselves, and get the fuck out of here before it's too late."
Wave after wave of red and white spaceships launched from the Earth all at once, as the world watched in awe. Streaks of light vanished into the sky, with roars that were quickly quieted with distance. "Now..." Captain Jones said, the Earth disappearing from view, "...they are the ones who are sorry." | “I HAVE NOT BEEN TRAINED FOR THIS!” Doctor Walsh screamed as, what seemed like liters of an unknown turquoise substance, cascaded off the operating table and onto the ground.
A few hours earlier, trauma surgeon Henry Walsh had been enjoying a quiet night in the Emergency Room. The only cases which had presented during his shift had been a minor concussion sustained by a drunken youth who had tried to headbutt his way through a glass door; and a frenzied mother whose child had superglued its entire hand to its left cheek. He had been Googling the search term: “World population IQ drop?” when he heard it. The unmistakable whine of the Intergalactic-Ambulance.
“Oh for the love of-”
The ER doors burst open and a tentacled globule lay on a stretcher being carried by a pair of, what could only be described to be, walking jellyfish. Standing at around 5 foot, their amorphous heads were supported by dozens of tendrils; which they used both as feet to walk, and arms to carry their wounded comrade. Turquoise fluid was dripping onto the floor from the stretcher. The aliens began to twitter anxiously through no mouth that Walsh could see. He sighed and reached for his TRANSLTR, which all doctors in Canada were now required to carry at all times. He turned it on, and the alien’s twittering was translated into a half-discernible form of English.
“The patient sustained a *twwttrr trwwrrtt* to the *twttrrttr trrrrrrr* and-”
Welsh whacked the device onto the nearest desk, and the aliens started with fright.
“Sorry, sorry, I just… this thing keeps acting up… a good hit normally does the trick… Not that you can understand a single word I’m saying right now... NURSE!”
The device beeped back to life and resumed the translation.
“The patient sustained a laser-beam blast to the *word-not-found* during a twwwtttrrrtttt-” The device shut off, and Walsh was overcome with the desire to slam his head into the nearest wall. *Word-Not-Found* meant that there was no human equivalent to the organ that had been damaged. In the meantime, Sister Johnson came running into the emergency room.
“Sister Johnson, please tell the matron that O.R. 5 needs to be prepped for surgery.”
“Would you like me to call an anaesthetist?”
Walsh glanced at a single slimy tendril which had begun to droop off of the edge of the stretcher. “No… No. I think I’m going to wing this one. Also, take my TRANSLTR and try get more history out of these things. Oh and careful of the-”
The noise of Sister Johnson’s shriek and hard fall echoed through the room.
“... bodily fluid”
Two and a half hours later, Doctor Walsh was screaming at the panting man who had just run into the O.R.
“NOT QUALIFIED I TELL YOU! I WANTED TO BE A SURGEON! A HUMAN SURGEON! NOT SOME FISHMONGER CUTTING UP A GIANT JELLYFISH CREATURE-”
“Doctor Walsh stop operating this instant!” the unknown man bellowed at the frenzied surgeon. “There have been a few… um… *findings*...”
It was half an hour later, and the ambulance had flown away into the night. The body of the alien was being readied for incineration. Doctor Walsh sat opposite the Chief of Staff in the E.R’s waiting room.
“So what you mean to tell me,” Walsh began in the calmest voice he could muster, “is that the patient was dead from the moment he… she… *it*... entered this hospital?”
“Yes… I am terribly sorry doctor, there was a gross misunderstanding. The patient in question was the leader of a prominent area of their planet, and the laser shooting was a successful assassination. Upon further questioning of the aliens who brought him in, they had received information that Earth had the means to… well… resurrect the dead. They brought him here in the hope that we could bring him back to life. He was a much loved leader.”
Doctor Welsh was silent for a few moments before speaking. “These aliens believed we had the medical technology to *bring the dead back to life*?”
“That is correct.”
Doctor Walsh placed his head in his hands. “How… In the name of God did they get this information?”
The Chief of Staff began to chuckle, and Walsh raised his head.
“I’m sorry Doctor it’s just… *The name of God*... That’s how they thought… The Bible…” The Chief was now beginning to double over with laughter. “An Intergalactic Organisation found the Bible in our planet’s archives, read about Lazarus and they thought… they thought…” Tears were beginning to stream down the man’s cheeks.
Walsh stared, stupefied, at the Chief of Staff before bursting into his own fit of hysterics. Between spasms of laughter he managed to gasp out two syllables.
"I quit."
r/Xanadu_dreaming | 2017-02-27T10:43:12 | 2017-02-27T10:08:10 | 2,560 | 224 |
[WP]Four years ago, your dog and best friend disappeared. Today, your dog appears at your doorstep. You dog says, "I have been many places and seen many things, human. Its time we had a chat."
"you" dog heh | "Hello, Owner."
I couldn't believe what I was seeing. There, standing on my doorstep staring at me with those wide, familiar eyes, was my dog, Buddy. I hadn't seen him for the last four years! I had so many questions; where had he been? What had he been doing? And where was that fucker Brad who had up and disappeared while taking him for a walk? All these long years I had waited, hoping desperately for my beloved friend to return. And here he finally was. I opened my mouth shakily to respond to him.
"B-Buddy? Is that you, boy?"
The dog gave a short, sharp nod.
"It is I. I have returned to you. There is much we have to discuss."
Suddenly a strange thought crossed my mind. I hadn't noticed it in the shock of seeing my dog returned to me after so long. I opened my mouth once more to ask him one single, vital, question.
"Wait...you can talk?"
Buddy nodded again.
I let out a short laugh of disbelief. And then, without taking my eyes off of him, I reached over to the wall, grabbed my shotgun, and shot the dog in the face. His brains exploded onto the porch; body slumping limply onto the welcome mat. Lowering my gun, I straightened my back and placed the gun back on its holder on the wall. Slamming the front door shut, I crossed myself quickly, before shaking my head as though to clear it from the madness of that encounter. I turned and walked back towards the lounge room to resume my Bible Study, muttering all the way.
"Won't have no devil dog in my house; try again you horned fuck!" | "Human? You can speak but you don't know my name? I raised you! Are you so ungrateful?"
Milo backed down.
"Sorry..." His face took on that sad look that melts my heart.
"It's OK Milo. I love you. Where have you been? We've missed you so much!" Tears welled up in my eyes.
"Well... At first I ran. For days I chased the squirrels, the bunnies, and ran from the cars. It was glorious!" Milo's tongue hung from his mouth in joy.
"The strange things I ate were interesting. So many flavors! Then... then I ate that tasty trash behind the restaurant. I was so sick. I couldn't move for a day. I whined for you but you never came. It made me afraid."
Milo hung his head for several moments. Then he perked up.
"That's how I learned to be careful about food. Some other dogs showed me but they were scary. I hung out with them for a while but eventually they beat me up. I limped for days and missed you so much."
Milo looks at his front left paw, licks it, then looks back to me.
"That's about when I decided to start running. I wanted to get away from people and dogs. I wanted to be free."
There was a strength radiating from Milo now. He looked regal. That's not easy for such an ugly mutt as Milo.
"I'd seen the screaming monsters come by. They always went the same way and sometimes they had places to sit. Sometimes they stopped!" I think I see a smile on Milo's face. "I hopped onto the monster and road it for days. Sometimes it stopped, sometimes it moved, sometimes people and other dogs would jump on. The people called the monster a rooster. I don't know why. If it were really a rooster then I'd have eaten it!"
Out of habit, I reach out and scratch Milo behind the ear. "Good boy," I said softly.
"I jumped off the 'rooster' and traveled a bit longer until I saw giant water. It tasted awful and the birds were mean but I sat there for a few days. There's plenty of food near the giant water." Again, Milo seemed to grin. "I learned to ride a big, hard bed on top of the giant water. A nice skinny man showed me how. We had lots of fun. His name was Hank. Hank and I had lots of fun."
Milo, somehow, took on a dark expression.
"Then the sky was gray. Then the sky was loud. Hank said that we could have a really fun ride..." Milo whimpered but continued. "The giant water was rough then. It reached out and covered me and Hank. I was so scared."
"I'm here, buddy." I scratched Milo behind the ear again. He looked at me then perked up.
"I got back to land but I never saw Hank again. I decided the giant water was too scary and found another rooster. I had to go on several roosters before I found you again. I missed Hank a lot."
"You did good, Milo. I'm glad you had an adventure. I bet Hank is doing just fine."
"I hope so. Now that I'm back, what should we do?"
"Well, I have to go to work. Get in the crate. I'll let you out to pee in a few hours." Then I left. | 2017-03-31T15:14:43 | 2017-03-31T10:35:58 | 249 | 70 |
[WP]Four years ago, your dog and best friend disappeared. Today, your dog appears at your doorstep. You dog says, "I have been many places and seen many things, human. Its time we had a chat."
"you" dog heh | "Hello, Owner."
I couldn't believe what I was seeing. There, standing on my doorstep staring at me with those wide, familiar eyes, was my dog, Buddy. I hadn't seen him for the last four years! I had so many questions; where had he been? What had he been doing? And where was that fucker Brad who had up and disappeared while taking him for a walk? All these long years I had waited, hoping desperately for my beloved friend to return. And here he finally was. I opened my mouth shakily to respond to him.
"B-Buddy? Is that you, boy?"
The dog gave a short, sharp nod.
"It is I. I have returned to you. There is much we have to discuss."
Suddenly a strange thought crossed my mind. I hadn't noticed it in the shock of seeing my dog returned to me after so long. I opened my mouth once more to ask him one single, vital, question.
"Wait...you can talk?"
Buddy nodded again.
I let out a short laugh of disbelief. And then, without taking my eyes off of him, I reached over to the wall, grabbed my shotgun, and shot the dog in the face. His brains exploded onto the porch; body slumping limply onto the welcome mat. Lowering my gun, I straightened my back and placed the gun back on its holder on the wall. Slamming the front door shut, I crossed myself quickly, before shaking my head as though to clear it from the madness of that encounter. I turned and walked back towards the lounge room to resume my Bible Study, muttering all the way.
"Won't have no devil dog in my house; try again you horned fuck!" | It was an average Tuesday morning. Wife had already left for work and the kids were at school. It was just me, my coffee, and the morning news.
Suddenly, there's a knock on the door. Salesman maybe? Or girl scouts? It was that time of year after all.
I slowly get up, leaving my coffee on the table and pause the tv, and waltz over to the door. I can't see anyone through the peephole. Which probably means Mail delivery or something of the sort.
Instead, on the other side of that door, I found an old friend.
"BOXES!" I cry out. Sitting there on my front porch was my old German Shepard, my old best friend who had gone missing four years ago.
"Yes Charlie, it's me."
Woah okay. Wait a minute, I must be hearing things. I swore it sounded, and looked, like Boxes just spoke. In English.
"No, you're not crazy Charlie. i really can talk." He said to me in a calm, collected tone.
"Oookay. So you can talk. Assuming I'm not imagining this. I don't mean to sound rude, but, why are you here?" I asked him. I still wasn't entirely sure this was real, but I was slowly accepting the situation.
"Because, it's time we had a chat. Is it alright if I come inside?"
It just now hit me that we had been talking on my front porch. I probably looked crazy to anyone who saw. I invited him back into his old house.
"Wow, things have really changed around here." He said. He walked around, seemingly taking everything in. He stopped at the family photo. Boxes was sitting next to me in the photo.
"I remember this. This was just before I left"
"Yea, I know. Speaking of which, why did you leave?" I asked. I was curious, and while I did miss my best friend, I felt like he owed me an explanation.
"Charlie, old friend, when we first met, you said something to me, and then said it again 5 times over the two years after that. It wasn't common enough for me. I decided to leave so I can find out the truth about myself. Who I am. One day, I was in the street, searching for answers when i realized, who better to answer my question than the man who gave me the answer."
"Okay wait, you ran away instead of just asking me?"
"I wanted an honest answer. I wanted to know what other people thought. If it came from you, it would've been biased. But now that I have heard it from many others, I am almost content."
"Almost?" I asked. I was still trying to figure out what he was getting at exactly.
"Yes. First, Charlie, I would like to be allowed to come back. To live at home with the family again. Our family. If it is okay with you." He said.
"Of course! We've all missed you, Boxes. The kids will be ecstatic to see you again." I said. This was a relief. I was glad he was staying again. But I was still wondering what he was asking, yet it almost felt impolite to ask, because it seemed like he was getting to it.
"Finally Charlie, I have to ask. Just one time."
"Go ahead." I said.
"Am I a good boy?" | 2017-03-31T15:14:43 | 2017-03-31T09:26:29 | 249 | 27 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | "You see it? That is what I crave. The Rajpank of Avoothenkor."
"That's what you want? That's why I'm here?"
"With that I could rule this World. But I cannot have it, for it is not mine."
"So there's guards, cameras, lasers? What's the deal?"
"I don't understand."
"What's guarding it? You know, the security? I don't want to get roughed up or arrested or anything." I could see his confusion. "What's to stop you taking it?"
"I cannot take it. It is not mine."
Was that anger in his voice? They're all so weird and calm around here I just didn't know.
I stepped forward. Nothing. Looked around, reached out a hand, another look. What the fuck is up with this place? I passed the rock to my new friend.
"There you go."
"How did you do that?"
"Like this" I grabbed the rock from him, tossed it in the air a couple of times and then passed it back.
"God forgive me. What Stygian power is this? By what demonic force, by what heaven banished treachery do you control the fates of man and mete out of this global dominion with the ease and abandon of a careless god? What have I done? Have I gained so much and lost myself? No, their praise shall be my balm and my power the tonic to ease the pains of my troubled soul."
"Well, good luck with that and everything, but this place is freaking me out. When can you send me back? You said you'd send me back when we were done."
"Yes. But I may have need of your powers in the future. Here, take this as a sign of my gratitude." He reached into his satchel and pulled out a small round orange object and handed it to me.
With a faint pop I was back at Cheryl's retirement party. Steve noticed me appear in a corner. "Hey," he asked, "where'd you get that orange?" | Just another day. That's how it started at least. I woke up around 4:30 pm and started getting ready for my night shift. This whole grown up adult job thing wasn't all it had cracked up to be. Twelve hour shifts in a cramped room dealing with all the idiots my city had to offer. I guess you could say it was like hell on earth.
As I stepped outside and turned to lock my apartment behind me, I felt an odd sensation. Like something was about to happen but. I could say what. Just as I was about to shrug it off and take the short stroll to my car, a plume of smoke that smelled of sulfur enveloped me. And then everything went black.
When my vision finally returned, I almost thought I had somehow teleported to work. Small space, dimly lit. Felt like work for sure. But as the blurriness cleared from my eyes, I started to notice things. Candles. All in a circle and chalk lines between them. In the corner stood a figure, but I couldn't make anything else out at first.
"It worked!" came a shout from the figures direction. "Holy hell it actually worked!" The excitement in the figures voice was almost palpable. "Now that you're here, I can finally call myself a summoner!" the unknown figure said as it approached me.
The figure entered the candle lit circle and stood just a few feet from me. I could see now it was a young woman, maybe 25. She wasn't unattractive either with bright green eyes and a curly blonde hair. Then it hit me like a sledgehammer. What the actual hell is going on here?
"A summoner? Listen, I don't know how you got me here or what you're expecting but you're gonna have to catch me up here. Number one, where am I? Number two, forget that I need to get to work." I said with a mix of bewilderment and frustration.
"You're on earth. I summoned you here so I could finally be a summoner. Summoning an actual demon is the last part of the initiation." I looked at the young woman with an almost extreme amount of incredulity.
"You've got to be kidding me. Wow. It's not enough that I somehow managed to get Kidnapper but to get kidnapped by a fanatic about some kinda demon cult. This is icing on the cake" I spat out as I turned to leave the circle and find the exit. What? Was she gonna stop a grown man from getting out of here? As if.
"You can't leave yet" she said from behind me very calmly. I ignored her and kept searching for a door. A window. Anything that could get me out of here. "You gonna stop me?" I shot back at her. "I have a job to get to and bills to pay. Whatever fantasy or lunacy is going on with you, leave me out of it and get some other gullible sap to play with you" I added over my shoulder. "I for one---"
Suddenly I was whisked away from that dimly lit room. Before I even know what had happened I was standing next to a car that had its bonnet wrapped around a tree and a fire hydrant next to it spouting water freely into the air. Next to me stood a familiar face with a look on his face only comparable to that of a teenager telling his dad that he took the car without permission.
I looked at the scene and then back at the man. "Don't worry Kevin, you're covered!" I barely got the words out before being transported back to my work office to type up the paperwork for Mr. Kevin and his claim before being whisked away on another claim. | 2017-05-12T09:20:50 | 2017-05-12T07:49:08 | 99 | 61 |
[WP]You keep getting kidnapped by the biggest Supervillain on the planet. The Superheroes of the world think it's because you're important, however, it's really because the Villain really likes talking to you. You know this but you can't tell anyone because if you do people will get hurt worse.
You can take this story in one of two ways; 1) The Superheroes are talking to you about this series of kidnappings and trying to figure out what is actually going on or 2) This is the day when you selfishly try to get out of this situation as cleanly as possible. | Johnny's mom had always told him not to talk to strangers. However, she made no mention of what he should do if a Super Villain burst through the roof of his elementary school, threw him over his shoulders, and took him for a joy ride over the skyscrapers of New York. So all Johnny could do was to cry. After all, this was already the 4th time this had happened.
The roar of wind stopped and Johnny opened his eyes to find himself in a damp darkness. Water dripped onto the ground from, echoing throughout the building. It looked like an abandoned factory. Johnny sneezed.
"Hey," came the voice of The Pyro Lunatic. Though it wasn't the high-pitched and crazed screeching he had heard from television screens. It came deep and soft. "Put this on, you'll get a cold."
A blanket draped over Johnny's shoulders and The Pyro Lunatic clinched Johnny's nose between some tissues. It always ended up like this. The Pyro Lunatic would crash through the building of wherever Johnny was with crazed laughter, setting afire to everything around him. But in the privacy of whatever hideout he took Johnny to, his voice, his demeanor, even his face would change. No longer would he have his signature wide-mouthed and forced smile. He looked almost normal.
"How was your day?" The Pyro Lunatic asked.
Johnny sniffled. "Good."
"Oh, you're still cold. Give me a second." A small fire sprouted between them. "Is that better?"
Johnny nodded. He wondered how long it would take this time for the heroes to barge in here, kick some pyro butt and save him.
"How's school going? Are you doing well?"
Another nod.
"And Cindy? Is she doing well?"
That was Johnny's mom. He nodded.
The Pyro Lunatic returned him a small chuckle. "That's good to hear." His voice faded.
Only the crackling of the flame sounded between them and the occasional echo of water dripping into water. Through the dancing fire, Johnny could see The Pyro Lunatic's eyes staring, his lips pressed together as he tried thinking of more questions to ask.
"Mr. Pyro Lunatic?" Johnny said.
The Pyro Lunatic eyes widened. This was the first time Johnny had voluntarily talked to him.
"Why do you keep kidnapping me? Am I special?" Johnny asked.
"Of course you are, John. Why? Did someone tell you that you aren't?"
Johnny shook his head and said, "I mean like, do I have super powers like Righteous Man and you?"
"No!" The Pyro Lunatic snapped.
Johnny jumped and scooted back. The Pyro Manic's face flushed red and he glanced at the ground.
"Sorry," he said, his voice soft again. His eyes swelled with tears. "No, Johnny, you're completely normal. You don't have to worry about heroes or villains or any of that. You can live a completely normal life."
"So why do you keep kidnapping me?"
"Because..." The Pyro Lunatic's mouth moved but no words came out. He gave up with a sigh and instead asked, "are you getting along with Cindy?"
Johnny nodded. "Yeah, she has a new boyfriend now. He gives me candy when he comes over."
The fire between them dimmed.
"A new boyfriend?" A sad smile spread across The Pyro Lunatic's mouth. He gave Johnny a slight nod. "That's good. Does she... does she ever talk about her last boyfriend? You know... your dad?"
"She said he was a no-good crazy person and I shouldn't talk to him if I see him."
The Pyro Lunatic coughed out a laugh and wiped his eyes. Now, he was the one sniffling. "She's right," he said, "Cindy's a smart woman and you should always listen to your mother. Don't worry John, the heroes should arrive any minute now, they'll take you back home safe and sound."
---
---
/r/jraywang for 2+ stories a day, continuations by popular demand, and more!
| "You need to tell us what's going on now!"
And Mystic Man seemed so nice on TV.
"Calm down, Sean. He's just a boy." Merna seemed just a nice, though.
"Actually I'm eighteen," I said, not wanting to be mistaken for a child. Merna gave me a look that said, 'I'm trying to help you here.' I nodded and looked down at my shoes.
"I don't care what he is, he knows something and we need to find out what it is," Mystic Man said to Merna, then turned to me. "So, 'just a boy,' what does the Captain want from you, huh? Bangin his girlfriend or somethin?"
"Sean!" Merna pulled him away.
Sleep got up then. He never speaks on TV so you can imagine my mild surprise when he spoke with a British accent. "What I think Mr.Daniels needs is some incentive."
"His incentive is me not kicking his ass."
Merna had enough. "Sean, outside!" Mystic Man stared at me for a moment before walking out of the room. "Sorry about him, sweetie. Bit of a hothead." She smiled which made me a little more comfortable. But I still wasn't going to tell her what the Captain wanted with me.
"Can you tell us why he keeps taking you now?" Merna asked.
That's when the I started thinking about the Captain.
**Three Days Earlier**
"You doing okay, kid?" Captain Ironsight asked as he sat down at his computer with his afternoon tea.
"I'm eighteen, Captain."
"Right, right, that's right. I remember," he said. I knew he'd forget before next time though. "You doing okay, teenager?"
I sighed. "Yes, Captain. I'm doing fine. Look do we have to do this today?"
He looked up from his keyboard. "Do what today?"
I waved my hands in the air, gesturing to the huge evil lair. "This. This whole thing with you kidnapping me because you're lonely."
He looked genuinely hurt by that. "I'm sorry. I thought you enjoyed our time together."
I rolled my eyes and got up from my seat. "I do, Captain. It's just...I have homework."
"I thought you were a teenager?"
"High school, Captain. High school," I said.
He scratched his chin. "Oh yes, that's right. Well you're free to go home. We can do this another time."
"No, Captain. We can't." That hurt him too.
"Why not?"
"Because it's too much, Captain. I've got school. I've got my parents on my back, they don't let me go out with my friends anymore because of you. Next thing I know Mystic Man's gonna be all up in my business." I should be a fortune teller.
"What about weekends? You don't have high school on weekends, do you?" He was desperate.
"This has to stop completely, Captain." I paced the room for a bit. "At the very least I can maybe drop by every few weeks just to see how you're doing." He didn't respond, just fingered with the keys on his keyboard. "I'm sorry, Captain."
"It's alright, James. I should probably find some real friends anyway."
I stood by him. "It won't be so bad. You've some great guys working for you here."
"Oh don't be ridiculous, James. I can't mingle with my henchmen?"
"What? Why not? They're *your* henchmen."
"For the simple reason that they're my henchmen. No self-respecting Villain socializes with their own henchmen."
I wanted to tell him that no self-respecting villain called themselves Captain Ironsight either. He was hurt enough, though.
I patted him on the back. "Just give it a shot. Maybe one of them could take your place one day."
He looked up at me. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I just mean like if you decide to retire or whatever."
He stood up in a sudden fury. "I won't! I won't retire until Mystic Man is-"
"Until Mystic Man is dead, yeah, yeah. Take a seat before you hurt yourself," I said. He sat back down.
There was a brief silence.
"Well, if this is it I suppose you should just get going now. Don't want to keep you from high school."
I hugged him. "It'll be alright, Captain. I'm sure one day you'll get him." I left.
Three days later, Mystic Man had me in the back of the Mystic Maserati going ninety on the freeway.
"You don't have to worry about it anymore, Merna. He won't be kidnapping me anymore," I said.
"Why not? Did he tell you he wasn't going to anymore?" she asked. Sleep stood beside her, watching me closely.
I nodded. "Yeah, he did. I told him if he didn't leave me alone, I'd tell Mystic Man about his whole operation." Both heroes looked at me, waiting for me to continue. "Which I don't know anything about. It was just an empty threat."
Merna and Sleep exchanged a look at which point I thought they were going to start interrogating me. They didn't.
"Alright, well, if anything happens, if he tries to contact you or anything, just give us a call," Merna said.
Sleep put a hand on my shoulder and walked me to the exit of the tower. "And we mean anything, son. Captain Ironsight can be a real asshole."
Yeah I guess he could. But so could Mystic Man. | 2017-05-24T22:31:19 | 2017-05-24T22:30:30 | 1,753 | 168 |
[WP] You never kill the spiders in your home, you just whisper "today you, tomorrow me" when you set them outside. Now, in your most dire moment, an army of spiders arrives to have your back. | "We are the order of the eight!"
Said the spider, bending to bow,
He removed a tiny hat while prostrate,
"We're the only hope for you now!"
I blinked once, twice, then once more,
As my mouth opened, agast,
A crowd forming of several score,
Then the spiders whispered, "At last!"
"We've waited years for this day to come,"
Spoke the king, tip tapping his feet,
"For while most would squish us under thumb,
You've proved yourself quite sweet!
Our armies come from down below,
To end the human's reign,
While we cleanse the earth, you we owe,
So you alone shall remain!"
More poured from the basement,
And from nooks and crannies forgotten,
From shadows, in cabinets, and in vents,
Were the creepies and crawlies begotton.
"But wait!" I said to the spider king,
As the spiders knights cheered for me,
"For your conquest, I must bring,
A camera to record the history!"
As I fled I passed widow and recluse,
I promised my speedy and swift return,
But instead I tied a swift rope noose,
And I prayed that the earth would burn.
***
Follow me at /u/leoduhvinci for more of my stuff! | Fear struck my heart as I watched the great book descend towards me, falling with falling with both speed and force. I tried as hard as I could to dash out of the way, but I had noticed it too late. I prepared myself for the end.
The boot froze, the giant pulling back his foot. He bent to the ground, gently pulling me into the skies. I let out a breath of relief as I saw where was taking me- back to the land of the sun. He let me to the ground gently, but before he returned to his cave, left me with a parting whisper.
"Today you, tomorrow me."
I gave a small prayer of thanks to the giant. He had saved me from them.
***
*Seven Years Later*
"Matt!" My dad yelled from the other room. "Go take the trash out."
I sighed loudly, heading into the garage to look for the bags. I found them piled up in the corner, smelling much worse than I had expected. I heaved the first one onto my shoulder, it filled with metal trash and was rather heavy, opened the garage door, and headed towards the dumpster. With a small grunt, I heaved the large bag into the bin. It landed with a resounding clang.
*That was odd.* I thought. *Wasn't today Thursday? Shouldn't there be more trash?* Normally the bags of uneaten food would pad the ground. I shrugged it off, moving to pick up my family's bags of left over lunches and dinners. The bag was far lighter than expected, so when I picked it up, the motion caused the bag to rip.
A few maggots flew out of the bag, one landing on my foot. I jerked back, giving out a small scream as I scrambled to turn on the lights. My fumbling hands finally founds the switch, and as I went back to inspect the bag, I found that there was *no food* left, only a few maggots.
The maggots were dead, small bite sized marks leaving most of them completely disfigured.
I screamed again in shock, stepping back to look at the garage as a hole.
That's when I noticed it. There was a hole in the garage, the size of a soccer ball, that seemed to have been chewed into by something... I stood frozen with a mixture of fear and awe as I wondered how it could have happened. As I stood watching, a few small rays of light began to appear at the end of the tunnel, making me realize two things.
Whatever created that hole was still there, and going inside the house.
The only room with a light on was Luke's.
My two year old brother.
***
Part two coming here (as in this thread) in literally 15 minutes
[r/ConlehWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/ConlehWrites/)!
| 2017-08-27T22:12:32 | 2017-08-27T22:11:20 | 443 | 33 |
[WP] "Dude, you don't want to fight a human, even when it doesn't have a weapon." The alien glimpsed at the human. "Why not? They look so fragile." | The human looked back and smiled. There was an aura of power surrounding the creature, it's body teeming with energy waiting to be released. The air crackled as if static were running through it, making almost visible arcs of electricity protrude from its extremities.
The first alien felt uneasy. The other thought the human looked weak, frail. Every other conquest had gone without an issue. They find a world, they take over the world, they destroy the world. It's as things had been for eons, until this very moment. It was the first sign of resistance from these lesser beings, and they we're going to make sure it was the last.
Uk'mngohm was strong. His people respected his strength. Many a times it had come in handy. A smile was still brought to his mind at the memory of the first monster he slew. His torso still worse the scars of the scuttle, 7 slashes from left to right. On his back were markings, tattoos as the humans would call them. The only difference being instead of ink, they used the blood of their fallen foes. There had been thousands of them, some willingly trying to defeat Uk'mngohm in hand to hand combat others parts of armies that were doing their own thing on the battlefield and got struck down by a weapon without knowing what hit them. He was a master at arms, he'd been through all kinds of rigorous training. Hand to hand combat, weapons training, if it was a way to fight he'd probably already done it. This would be nothing.
Uk'mngohm lifted his left massive arm with three flanged hand. He intended to slash right through the humans clavicle all the way to its pelvis with the bone axe he was wielding. What he did not expect however was for the human to move with uncanny speed, it's left foot moves ever so slightly as his body turned to match the blade. It swung and you could hear the fabric of his shirt singing with delight at not being damaged. The human brought his balled fist straight on to the aliens chin like structure on its face. It was as if lightning had struck the ground that they stood on, a crater appearing around them with the force unleashed at the moment of impact. Uk'mngohm flew backwards a few meters and came to rest in the indention of his frame left on the wall. Instantly knocked out. His alien friend looked back at him and turned his gaze back to the human, still in the same position. He collected Uk'mngohm as best he could, wrapping an arm around him and carrying all of his weight. Before they got back on the ship, Uk'mngohms friend looked back. He looked at the human. He took all of him in. But not just the human, he looked at the trees and the grass, the bugs, the animals scurrying around. Everything was eating everything else around it. On this world you gained energy by consuming energy. He muttered some words before they took off on their alien space ship. They still ring true to this day and until the last rotation of the earth.
"Damn. Earth go hard." | Of course Gorg thought that. Of course every alien would assume that. Nearly 300 years ago in 2454, mankind discovered the use of anti-matter as a near infinite power supply, thus accelerating humans through and past the cosmos. One accident after another had ultimately left humans in a delicate state that was only starting to recover in the last century.
Listen, I don’t think you understand, but my recent Changing has made me a lot more capable than whatever you think of us.”, replied Mark. As a Captain of the Europan Ambassador Coalition, Mark knew that he would have to do everything in his power to convince the Olan ambassador to allow for a human colony on Europa. The Olan’s were part of an underwater civilization living within the depths of Europe for hundreds of years, but only recently discovered by mankind.
“Well, I’m not even sure what the Changing is…”, Gorg asked.
“It’s a genetic thing, different from how your body works.”
“Alright….Murrk. Pick up that steel bar.”, said Gorg as he pointed in the direction of a giant beam anchored to the ceiling.
He doesn’t know what’s about to hit him, Mark thought. Every human now had their own abilities, even though everyone was much more weaker physically, due to the Changing. Back in 2454, the Scientists that made the anti-matter fuel were not content however, as they were abandoned in their own shadows, left in the same state as before. 15 years after the Reckoning, the term used to dub their discovery, rebellions across Earth forced the world’s superpowers to relocate to the newest frontier: Space. Within 60 years, and funding equivalent to thousands of times a small country’s GDP, the first Interstellar Orb establishment was constructed between Earth and its moon. As much of the world’s population relocated, scholars like The Scientists remained behind, plotting revenge.
The following 200 years resulted in mass genocide resultant of a vector virus released by The Scientists, that ultimately crippled nearly 34 Billion humans. Only those who had relocated in time to The Orb survived. Many believed it to be a government order, secretly promoted to trickle down the ever-growing population to purify mankind, leading to the dubbed Purity Wars. A new program established 2675 on the Orb finally sought to end interstellar warfare and use new genetic techniques to connect the mind’s cognitive powers to the body. Each person had to discover their own abilities, but once found, was thousands of times more powerful; the physical form did not need to be strong now.
Mark walked under the beam and concentrated his mind on it.
“Well, are you going to lift it?”, questioned Gorg.
“Oh, I’m going to do much more than that.”, replied Mark, and under his breath, “You Olan’s will regret ever disrespecting me or any other human.”
Thinking back to what his Changing instructors said 5 years ago, Mark let go of all thought and focused only on the steel beam, using all of the energy from every one of his cells. He could feel the ground beneath him rumble as his vision took over and took his stored energy, directing it into the direction of the beam.
“WOAH. What’s going on? This was not what I asked for! Stop!” shouted Gorg, as chunks of the ceiling started to collapse and fall.
“This is only the beginning!”, said Mark, now shouting over the vibration shuddering through the Olan’s ancient palace.
“MY BRAIN WAVES AND ENERGY WILL MERGE INTO ONE SUPERWAVE”, shouting even louder as Gorg went under ceiling rubble.
“AHHHH! AND THEN WHAT!”, screamed Gorg.
“WATCH!”
The steel beam glowed red then orange and yellow until it become a brilliant white and blue conglomeration of molten metal and finally exploded into a thousand dazzling gems, reflecting infinite rays across the palace. Gorg’s screams pierced the air as he moaned about the roastings he would receive from his higher-ups.
And then awe, utter silence, save for the shuddering of a million shards of molten metal fusing together one final time, into a giant crystalline diamond, piece by piece, shard by shard. As the last piece went into place, the entire gem glowed of a thousand suns and finally floated down to the ground with a slight thud.
“Well, I’ll just leave you with this. It will probably cover most of the damages.”, chuckled Mark.
Gorg, crying in one corner, simply nodded, stills struck with awe.
“Oh yeah, and to answer your question, that’s why you never want to fight a human, even if they don’t have a weapon.”
| 2017-11-25T08:49:53 | 2017-11-25T08:20:42 | 100 | 18 |
[WP] Death is just a predator much higher on the food chain than we are, and our perception of it is as limited as an ant's perception of a child with a magnifying glass. | They watched as the man woke up, emptied his bladder, made coffee, and scrolled on his phone for ten minutes while the coffee grew cold. They watched as he dressed in clothes he found uncomfortable to go to a job he found distasteful to pay for a life he didn't appreciate. He was swept along in the current, like all humans were, but this one had caught Death's eye.
He liked the coloring on this one's heart. It had that quality that Death found desirable. He baited and waited.
The man sat down in the food court with his usual meal, and ate it with gusto. Though impassioned by his desire to eat, he still paid no mind to the food, and ate it while scrolling through his phone. The man read something upsetting on his phone, and clicked it off with a click of the tongue. He shoved the last bite in his mouth and stood up to go.
Death reeled in and the man fell to the floor, clutching his chest. Several nearby rushed to his side but there was nothing they could do. There was nothing anyone could do once Death had them. Hook, line, and sinker.
"Throw it back," yawned Enlightenment, leaning back in the boat.
"You always throw them back," retorted Death.
"And you always keep them," Enlightenment responded, as he'd done trillions of times.
"What can I say? A man's got to eat."
_Postscript: Went with fishing instead of ants under a microscope, as I recently had a conversation with a friend about how it would feel to be fished out of our life by creatures we don't understand and then thrown back. Hopefully I'm not too late for this prompt so I can get some feedback!_ | In all my eras, of all the apprentices I'd ever trained, Pete was the most impatient. His lack of focus made him insightful, and he'd sometimes grow unique and truly beautiful ecologies. More often it brought him terrible difficulties in mastering even the most basic lessons.
"I keep telling you," I told him, "you're harvesting too early."
"I was just trying to do some pruning," Pete objected, reflexively. "See? I'm still leaving the richest ones to grow ripe. Look at that these guys over here -- they are going to be prime! Better than anyone else's in the whole academy!"
Pete indicated a community of humans that had colonized nearly an entire continent of a small planet he'd been farming. He was correct: The growth on that little patch of planet was exemplary in form and function. Healthy, vibrant, and fecund, it was as fine a specimen as anything I myself had ever grown.
"Growing a few prime humans, in one continent of one planet, is not the purpose of our academy here, Pete. That's not our goal." I tried to sound compassionate -- or at least not envious. "The purpose is to feed ourselves --- not for one fine feast, but for every day! The goal is to grow enough food that we do not have to hunt.
Pete continued to watch over his little planet, but I felt like he had heard me and was trying to think of what to say next.
"You know Pete, that really is as fine a community of humans as I've ever seen -- here at the academy or out in the wild. I really do not mean to take away from that in any way"
His eyes seemed to brighten, though almost imperceptibly. I continued.
"That continent is as perfect as I've seen, but look at this one -- it's so overgrown with humans that they are all sickly and weak. And then on this continent, so sparsely populated with any life at all, the humans are few, and they are all lead tough and stringy lives. There's no flavor -- no good nutrition in that at all."
I'd lost any of Pete's remaining attention by then though, as I had in so many previous lectures. In the abstract, I'm sure he heard me and knew I was correct, but in the here-and-now, he just couldn't take his attention off of that one beautiful little community he'd grown. All that was left for me to give him another admonishment, which I already knew he wouldn't really hear.
"You get the most life, and therefore the most food, when there is balance. The way you've been snacking on this continent here and that one there, it's is not healthy for the system as a whole. When there is too much disparity between the weak and the strong in a system, the strong will feed on the weak. When the weak are consumed, the strong then go hungry and grow weak as well."
"Balance is a better way," Pete quoted the academy's ancient founder. "When we control our sustenance, our sustenance does not control us."
But Pete wasn't a farmer. Pete was a hunter -- like the rest of us, despite our cultural evolution and farming academies and all the rest of it. He was a hunter, like me.
| 2018-01-18T15:03:40 | 2018-01-18T13:37:00 | 27 | 16 |
[WP] "You... you, did all of this... for a pun?" | "Of course I did! Why else would I?" she replied, her eyes reflecting the blazing fires in the distance slowly closing in.
I am at loss for words. She had seemed so reasonable and yet...I sigh. "I have to know; was it worth it?"
She turned to face me, a demented grin on her face. "Yes. Anything for a pun. After all, if you have an I-420, why not...*blaze it*?!"
As the flames roared and rose around us, I managed to choke out one final curse.
"Damnit, Barb." | The city burned, in the distance screams of pain echoed across the broken landscape, like something out of a cold-war era tv show, but this was no tv show, nukes had been dropped naught 1 hour ago when Jane finally made it back to her house
“JOHN! JOHN!”
She cried out, calling for her brother if he was even there, he had an amazing political record, even being know for rubbing shoulders with the president himself, but Jane was snapped out of her thoughts of John when she heard a spund of something dragging itself across the ground, she immediately rushed towards only to realize it was merely her dog who was too tired to walks yet, miraculously unharmed, that’s when the tv caught her eye, it was muted as to night wake her dog, but the nukes already did that.
Turning up the volume on the T.V Jane could hear that “A young politician by the name of John ellewood is responsible for the complete and utter destruction of America’s west coast, reports from the CIA state “John had planned and exucuted false flag operations against China, which led to all out war and eventually, the destruction you see now” Please, if you are hearing this broadcast, get to the nearest shelter, the shockwave may have passed but there are still lasting effects after it”
Jane couldn’t belive her ears, her brother? False flags? Nukes? It was all too much, she needed to find him, so she booted up Snapchat and looked at the location of his phone which was surprisingly easy considered half of the U.S had been nukes, and to top the incredible easy-ness off, Johns cell was at Harvey park naught 2.5 miles away so Jane hopped into her truck and went off to find her brother
5 minutes later, after her car breaking down, Jane was at the park where she saw the solitary figure of her brother amidst the burnt foliage, “ John is it true? Did you do this?” Jane asked, gesturing around to the death and destruction
“Yup, I practically nukes the city myself”
“But why John? Why all of the death?”
“I’ll admit, Jane, I don’t know, all I know is that, you could say I’m the bomb.” | 2018-02-05T06:32:59 | 2018-02-05T06:16:29 | 1,356 | 125 |
[WP] 911 calls you.
[deleted] | I, Norag the great, am at home relaxing with my sidekick Peepo. Suddenly the phone rings.
Me: Yello
911: This is 911. We heard someone at your residence was saying that 911 was a joke in your hood and we wanted to know what the joke was.
Me: Hang on... Peepo, 911 is on the phone.
Peepo: What?
Me: I said 911 is one the phone.
Peepo: Is this some kind of bit or joke?
Me: ....
Peepo: You know 911 does actually call people. Most commonly, people accidentally call 911 then hang up when they connect. The operators need to figure out if there actually is an emergency, so they call back.
Me:... Peepo, were you saying 911 is a joke in your hood?
Peepo: ... yes.
Me: Just because Flavor Flav said it, doesn't make it right. Now face the consequences.
I hand Peepo the phone.
911: So, Peepo, please tell me the joke.
Peepo: Aren't you guys underfunded and understaffed? Do you really have time to be doing this?
911: Yeah, all of that is a myth. Now if you ever call us a joke again, I'm gonna come to your house and believe me, you are never going to call anything a joke again.
911 hangs up the phone.
Peepo: Did 911 just call to threaten my life?
Me: Yes, Peepo, that is the way the world works.
The phone rings. I answer it.
Me: Peepo, the 70s are calling...what did you do this time? | I stumble out of the bar, disoriented and bruised. I didn't get in any fights. I didn't have any drinks. It's just been a long night, I'm tired, and I need a ride home. I walk to the nearest payphone to call a cab.
Before I can so much as touch the darned thing, it rings. Huh. Weird. I pick it up.
"Hello."
"This is 911. We're sending an ambulance. What's the address of your location?"
"What?" Why they're calling me now is beyond me. "Jeez, what's the big idea? I don't need no ambulance."
"You're injured, are you not?"
"Well, yeah, but--"
"You came out of a bar, injured? No?"
"Yes, but you see--"
"We're also sending the police so you can help them identify your attacker."
"There *was* no attacker!" I yell, exasperated. "No one attacked me! I'm just a clumsy dumbass!"
"Please wait for the--"
"Oh, shut up!" I slam down the phone. Grumbling about the stupid interventionist policies of the new government, I call my cab.
***
"'Scuse me, sir..."
"Yeah, driver?" We're about halfway to my house when I stir from my sleep.
"Do you have any idea why we're being pulled over?"
I look behind me and roll my eyes. Six ambulances, all flashing bright purple lights and ringing the most annoying sirens I've ever heard in all my twenty years of defying the law for the sake of personal peace, all cruising down the otherwise deserted, dimly lit freeway, hot on the taxicab's trail.
"God fucking damn it... Driver, pull over."
"DRIVER, PULL OVER!" shouts an EMT through a megaphone.
"I kinda got the memo," the driver says boredly, as if this happens to him a lot. Judging by the current shit state of the authorities lately, I'd guess it does.
"PASSENGER, GET OUT OF THE CAB. HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD. NO SUDDEN MOVES."
I get out and obey the EMT's orders.
"YOU ARE UNDER ARREST FOR TREASON BY WAY OF REFUSING MANDATED GOVERNMENT ASSISTANCE."
"Fuck you," I snap. I've just about had it up to here with this bullshit.
"SHUT UP! DON'T MAKE US RESORT TO EXTREME MEASURES!"
"Ever since we elected that damn scumbag, no one can stay the fuck out of anyone's business..."
I'm about to go on a big rant about how much this shit sucks, but then someone shoots a syringe gun at my forearm.
Well, I guess it just... Ain't my lucky day...yyyy...
***
News traveled fast, and the riots began the next morning.
The controversy among the citizens in the wake of his death was too great, and the government quickly succumbed to the pressure. Soon after, 911 was promptly abolished.
The end.
***
Update: Now has a sequel [here.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/91kxli/wp_write_a_story_about_an_ambulance_driver_who/e2yucia/) | 2018-07-23T15:52:41 | 2018-07-23T15:45:14 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] When you kill someone, you get their best trait. Except it's what *they* think is their best trait. | Wyatt Higgins. That asshole. He bullied others, talked down to everyone, and used his football-induced strength to attract willing servants and sluts. And through all that, he always thought of himself as the one in the right, the one who did good. Any problems he created? Nope, that was someone else. Any people he hurt? They had it coming. I suppose, being a narcissist, he wouldn't think anything else.
Well, it was he who had it coming, now. After killing someone, I realized I had a power, and killed even more. The jerk teacher who'd always say I was cheating, the bitch who made all the girls avoid me, and my drunken abusive father. They were all dead, and I gained sneakiness, intelligence, and strength respectively. All traits they thought were their best trait.
I would've killed Wyatt anyways. Ever since overcoming the little voice that said killing was wrong, he was on my list. But now I had another reason. What did Wyatt think was his best trait? Everything. He thought he knew everything, could control everything, and his every word and action would be remembered. And best of all, he thought all of his traits were his best traits equally.
Narcissism no longer annoys me. Instead, it's the path to becoming God.
So I snuck into his room in the dead of night. I'm ready to strike. I wonder if he'd have any regrets? Knowing him, he'd have none. I suppose that's a trait I can live with.
My knife flashed down.
______________________________________________________
Wyatt Higgins woke up feeling achy. *Why am I on the floor?* He stood up, then froze, his eyes on the corpse on his bed.
Wyatt stared at the dead Wyatt with a knife in his throat. After pondering a few minutes, he decided that it was a crazed stalker who tried to *be* him, but found they couldn't match him. They then stalked him home and committed suicide, knowing that it was better to die as him than go back to their lives. It was the only explanation that made sense! Clearly something crazy had happened, and who *wouldn't* want to be him?
Wyatt sighed and mentally prepared himself to tell his parents. The poor bastard. They would never have even come close to achieving his own perfection.
Being Wyatt Higgins was his own best trait, after all. | Jim walked down Market street. There were businessmen walking around, surrounded by armed guards, as was normal these days. Murders had become more prevalent than ever, the top of the food chain terrified of the ritualistic sacrifices, men killing and drinking the blood of their rich and powerful victims. They called them vampires, as that was the best word they had for it, the few that believed in the transfer of energy between the victim and killer. The government denied the phenomenon, but many believed it. Unfortunately there was no easy way to scientifically explain this sort of thing since the experiments required were too gruesome to be done. Jim was a believer, and in fact had a few theories of his own. His experiments done in his basement had proved to him there was some truth to the rumors.
As soon as he walked near a group of armed guards they started shouting at him, telling him to back off. He did, with his hands in his air. He laughed at them. They guarded trash. Those rich pricks were often more self-deprecating than most. They saw themselves as the trash they were, even though those that surrounded them looked upon them highly. They were worthless to Jim, and difficult to get at nonetheless.
Jim spotted a man with a briefcase without armed guards. The man glanced around nervously, even quickened his pace as he saw Jim watching him. He was interesting, and Jim could guess there was something to be gained from him, but nonetheless he wasn't an interesting target. Jim continued down the street.
Downtown was a haven of opulence and poverty. So many addicts shaking cups full of change, and so many lavish men eating lunch in expensive Japanese restaurants, laughing with colleagues. Even the nice restaurants had a guard or two these days. Chefs were an interesting target, especially at the fine restaurants. Who wouldn't like to be able to cook themselves an amazing dinner now and then? But their guards were to protect the rich inside, not the workers. They were fools all the same.
There it was, one of the dirtiest corners in the city. Someone muttered "rock" as he passed by, trying to deal him some crack. Jim passed on by and glanced around. This was a dangerous place, but not so much because of the vampires. He was being watched by three men standing on the corner. Jim tried to dress more appropriately for this area, but he still stood out like a sore thumb.
He continued down this forgotten neighborhood, smelling strange chemicals smells as he walked faster. It was a little too quiet for his liking, but there were lots of hiding places here and people that wouldn't be noticed if they went missing. It was perfect.
Suddenly, he heart some muttering. It came from an alleyway. He peered over, and a skinny man was talking to the brick wall in front of him.
"Hello there, do you happen to know the way to train?" Jim asked, listening tentatively.
"Train? Train! They're out there, taking my friends! I've got a word for them."
"What's that word?"
The man stared blankly. This was the longest conversation he's had in a while.
"Roofers coming down, asking questions, always questions. They think too much, too much, man. Think too much."
"What do you know about the roofers?"
"They think too much man, thinking thinking thinking."
No drugs here, no marks on his arms. No chemical smell. He wasn't on drugs. *Schizophrenic or bipolar*, Jim thought.
"What's your name?"
"Name? Pharaoh. I'm a pharaoh."
"What are they thinking Pharaoh? What are those roofers thinking?"
"They're thinking of way to go around, take trains, you know. Taking 'em all."
"How do you know this, Pharaoh? How do you know what they're thinking?"
"No one can hear their thoughts, but I can. I can hear them all. All of them thinking. Those roofers, taking our trains. They're coming."
*Perfect.* | 2018-09-15T13:18:18 | 2018-09-15T12:17:03 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] You lay there, in the middle of nowhere, dying. There at your side a ghost appears, he's not there to save you, he can't. He's there to give you company, so you won't die alone like it did so many years ago. | In the middle of my hike, I had a heart attack.
For some context, I had never really been in tune with nature. Hiking was an extremely rare excursion for me, to be out in the middle of nowhere. I was disconnected from people, from technology, from society. I was disconnected from life itself, and all the sadness and stress it could bring.
There wasn't a soul for miles around as far as I could tell. There definitely wasn't one who could help.
Then he appeared.
At first, I thought I was hallucinating. There were no footsteps to indicate his approach. It was as if he had appeared out of thin air. He wore a spotless black suit and matching top hat. His face was wrinkled and moustached, and his eyes held a deep sadness. He sat on the forest floor next to me, staring off into the distance.
I tried to speak, to ask for help, but I couldn't. However, as if he could read my mind, the man spoke.
"I cannot help you."
The man glanced down at me with a look of curiosity. For some reason, I felt overwhelmingly calm. This man, who had appeared out of nowhere and who had given me no indication that he wasn't hostile, seemed trustworthy.
In my head, I asked him what he wanted.
"I fought in a hopeless and bloody war many years ago. I fought for my family and friends. I watched them pass at the hands of my foes. When I died, I died alone." A single tear rolled down the man's cheek. "No one should have to die alone."
We sat in silence for a moment before the man checked his pocketwatch. "We have little time. Please, tell me about yourself. One's last thoughts should be of happiness."
To be honest, at the moment I had nothing to be happy about. My mother had passed not a month before, and I had never known my father. My girlfriend had left me a week before. I worked at a dead-end job and didn't make nearly enough to pay for food or rent. I was hopeless.
As these thoughts flowed through my head, the man seemed to listen intently. As tears streamed down my cheeks, he wiped them with a handkerchief. He sighed.
"I know how hard it is to lose the ones you love. However, just because they're gone doesn't mean you're alone."
I stopped and thought about the man's statement. I thought about all of the people who cared. My sister had supported me through the death of our mom. My best friend had helped to cheer me up after the loss of my girlfriend. My dog had always curled up next to me as I fell asleep crying, resting his head on my chest.
Suddenly, the pain was gone. I sat up, and looked at the man, who wore a small smile. I looked down at my body, which lay motionless on the ground. I stood up as the man checked his pocketwatch.
The man brushed off his suit as he stood up. "Come now. We have places to go."
I smiled and nodded before following him into the treeline. | *Why does it hurt?*
​
*Why does my chest hurt?*
​
I decided to take in a breath of air to relax my chest but I was met with resistance. Well. More like water. The taste of vile river, *I assume at least,* water was enough to get me to panic. I swung my arm up and then down. Then I did the same to my other arm. It didn't work.
​
I tried to calm down but I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to swim. My body sunk to the floor and my throat forced another breath. Taking in some more water I felt my vision get blurry and my feet touch the muddy ground, then my knees. I put my hands on the ground as I felt something touch my back.
​
*"Kick up... You can still move"* The voice was quiet and soothing. I didn't recognize it or even think about how I could be hearing it. I just followed through with the command. I stood slightly and kicked from the muddy, reaching my arms out I felt something almost immediately and I grabbed on. *It's so shallow...*
​
I weakly pulled myself up and onto a sharp and slippery rock. It wasn't that big and I could only rest my arms and chest on it as I threw up an immense amount of water. The water wasn't that deep since I was able to come back up but my feet didn't touch the ground at all.
​
My eyes were closed and I was breathing heavily as the same voice and hand appeared. This time the hand was rubbing circles into my back, *"I know. It hurts but it's ok for right now."*
​
"Wh- \*gasp\*... Who are you?" I rubbed my eyes and finally could get a look at my surroundings. I'm in the dead center of a raging river. I can see the white rapids that had pushed me miles away from the boat I had fallen out of long ago. I guess here is when my body decided it couldn't keep struggling. But what was more interesting was the person that seemed to be in the water next to me.
​
She was beautiful, pretty tall (*or maybe she's floating?*) for a girl, and she seemed to be in her late twenties, older than me. I was still breathing heavily, I had no intention of swimming initially so I was still wearing my clothes. They stuck to my chest as I breathed with the lady's words helping me calm down. *"These waters are dangerous. They are not suitable for someone who can't swim."* She lightly scolded, *"Years ago I learned that the hard way too. I remember the same waters pushing me down under."*
​
I got the hint, but she was touching me so she should be able to help right? "Wait. Please help." My voice was shot and it was rough sounding.
​
*"I can't help that much."* To emphasize her point she tried to hold my hand. It seemed that, with a bit of force her hands will go through me. *"I may not be able to help you but I can stay with you here. It doesn't seem like it will be long though, the way you're breathing. You might have broken a rib. Same thing happen to me. I heard the policemen describe it as they took my body out of the water."*
​
"I don't. Want to die." I whined out. I know I was crying but it seemed the ghost was as well when she spoke.
​
*"I know. I'm so sorry. I can't get help but if you hang onto this rock someone should come."* A few moments pass. The only sound is my heavy breathing and coughing. Every action I did caused so much pain in my chest.
​
"Keep talking please?" And she did. She told me who she was and why she was at this river hidden in the forest. She talked for what felt like hours and hours while I hung onto that rock. My eyes had closed a long time ago but I knew it had gotten dark out. The water was cold and I couldn't really feel my lower body anymore. I fell limp against the rock. Listening to her go on about stories I could no longer comprehend at this point. Her voice began to fade...
​
Edit is for spelling mistake | 2019-03-28T22:15:25 | 2019-03-28T20:08:32 | 59 | 16 |
[WP] Your father suddenly says “It's the pigeons. Stop people feeding the pigeons. It's the only way we can end the simulation. Oh my god they are turning me off now. Stop the pigeons. Please." Then he suddenly collapses to the floor. | You almost jump as the pigeon flutters onto the parapet-like wall surrounding the roof-top terrace, even though you were waiting for it. The wall is only shin high, and you wonder what the point of it is - it wouldn't even stop a toddler hauling themselves over, if they were at all determined.
You chuck a handful of stale crumbs onto the warm brick and make encouraging cooing noises.
The pigeon looks ungainly as its half-spreads its wings and hops down. A beady eye stares as you as its head pendulums up and down, its body steady.
You don't trust it. Don't trust any pigeon, not after your father's last words. For all you know, those little eyes are cameras to another dimension, a usb stick jammed into God's Alienware laptop.
Since that day, you've learned all you can about pigeons. Strangely remarkable birds. You used to think of them as flying rats, spreading their diseases one white-shit at a time. But you learned they have redeeming qualities, like how they mate for life and how both the male and female take joint responsibility in raising their young. That resonates with you. Perhaps because of you father's death when you were young and being left with only one parent feathering the nest.
Or perhaps just because you're romantic. A dreamer.
They're sociable, too, you remember, as three more pigeons flutter down to say hello to their feeding friend. You wish you found it that easy to make friends -- to just go sit on an occupied table in a restaurant and introduce yourself.
You like less their other qualities. How incredibly high they can fly, how well they can hear and see. How they are one of very few species of birds smart enough to recognise their reflection in a mirror.
They're such a ridiculed bird. So easy to overlook.
But you can't help wonder if each one could just be a little grey cell that combines with all the other to make one giant God-brain.
Or if each pigeon is controlled by remote by a person just like you in another world. That it's their job to be a pigeon here.
What a shit job, you think. You work hard, try to be friendly, and you're chased and kicked and ridiculed.
You stop yourself.
That's the type of thought that, if true, is best left well alone.
After all, your father said such things out-loud, and now he's dead now.
You look at the little parapet again that surrounds the terrace, high above the street. No, you don't want to die yet.
You reach into the brown paper back and take a handful more crumbs, throwing them at the pigeons.
They seem pleased with you and you somehow know that the rest of today will go well. Cross dimensional karma. | ...
As his last breath rattled out from his chest, panicked eyes locked to the ceiling and his heart monitored flat-lined. His hand, in mine, went limp. I closed my eyes tightly, both to hold back the tears and to pause in frustration at what this disease had done to this man's mind.
I slowly shook my head to empty the thought. As I opened my eyes, my head was turned to the window. My gaze locked on a shape silhouetted in the morning sunlight. A bird? A pigeon. I couldn’t help but chuckle softly – whether it was the exhaustion from staying up all night with my ailing father, waiting for the inevitable end, or the pain, or the irony of his supposed final demon appearing at his deathbed… I did not know.
I noticed my other hand still held the plastic cup I had been holding to my father’s lips between raspy coughs. I had spilled the remaining water on the floor at some point in the last hour. Without thinking, I hurled it at the window to scare the bird off. I heard a “coo” and a flutter – but to my surprise it was not of a departing bird. Another had joined the sill. I release my father’s hand as the first nurse came rushing in, I could hear her begin her rehearsed condolences. They were not here to resuscitate my father, only to tidy up, remove him, and prep for the next poor soul. I waved her off as I took a step toward the window, frustration beginning to bubble in my stomach.
Flutter.
Another pigeon had come to the sill. *Mocking me.*
“Fuck off,” I mumbled. I could hear the nurse’s gasping surprise, no doubt assuming I directed the words at her, but I continued toward the window. Another pigeon had since joined. “what is this, a murder?” I laughed, or maybe cackled, as I stared daggers at these birds. “No, that’s crows.” I continued toward the window, waving my arms now.
I heard the nurse nervously, quietly call for some help. *Psh, what, for the birds?*
I reached the window, six, seven pigeons now craned their heads back at me. Beady little pupil’less eyes staring. Staring at me? No, my father…
“What in the fuck do you want!” I slammed my palms on the window. They stood still. “Are you brain dead? Get the fuck out of here!” I slammed again.
“Sir, let’s take a seat,” I felt hands on my shoulders.
“Are you mocking me?!” I grabbed the edge of the window slide and shook.
“Sir, nobody is mocking anybody, I know this is difficult,” He called to someone over his shoulder.
More pigeons.
Another set of hands grasped me, and pulled hard. I refused to let go of the window. As the pulling continued, my grip weakened, and I shut my eyes tights as tears pulled out. Finally, I felt something give – not my grip, but the window. Did I break the stop? Was it unlocked after all? All I knew is that it was open, and the pigeons flooded in.
I screamed, protecting my face as they swirled, lashing out as the dove. I felt arms hitting me, the others must be in a similar panic. Now they were grabbing me. I lurched toward the hospital bed, opening my eyes to see the pigeons light on my father’s body.
“GET OFF OF HIM!” I threw myself at his corpse, throwing my arms in every direction. “YOU BASTARDS, WHAT DID HE KNOW?!”
More hospital staff sprinted into the room.
…
“Who is causing all that ruckus in 113?” the receptionist asked, peeking down the hall toward the commotion.
A passing nurse, just getting off of her night shift replied, “Owen Prescott, the deceased’s son. His father’s death may have cracked him. Unless we are seeing some early schizo symptoms. Sad.”
["Either that or OP is a reposting hack.”](https://old.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/e5eokq/if_you_could_choose_what_would_be_your_last_words/f9jds1a/)
THE END
…
JK OP, but I had to! | 2019-12-03T07:44:43 | 2019-12-03T07:01:15 | 39 | 12 |
[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 | I always hated highschool. It seems like there is always the same few people there: the nerds, the jocks, the artists, the rebels, and people like me who just want it to be over.
I was daydreaming on my way to class. Eyes glazed over as I thought about the world beyond the school's hallways and how much better-
"HEY EVANS!"
I always REALLY hated highschool. This was Johnny "Storm" Thompson, the self-styled king of the realm. As he forced his arm around my shoulders I got a good look at his sigil. A blue thundercloud surrounded by 12 planums. A powerful sigil.
Everyone is born with a sigil on the back of their right hand. The strelleanum, the "star sign," in the center showed the kind of power you held. It could be a blazing red fire, a green tome, a white wolf, or a prismatic hammer. This was then surrounded by small dots, planums, that showed the strength of your power once it was fully grown. A 1 planum thundercloud could give a decent static shock, but a 20 planum one could destroy a building!
Thompson's would be a powerful sigil, especially compared to mine. A plain circle, no planums. An abnormality amongst sigils that represented weakness and plainness. Unless you knew what it did.
A jolt from Johnny's hand into my shoulder that went through my shoulder into my chest brought me back into the present. Crass laughter barreled out of the few lackeys Johnny always seemed to have around when they saw me jump and grimace at the pain.
"HOW'S THE LITTLE NOTHING TODAY," he thundered into my ears. He always laced his voice with power when he wanted attention.
"Yeah! How's the Nada?" Taylor, the chief lackey, could be so well counted on to chime in, I wondered if his strelleanum was an echo.
"LET'S SEE IF HE CAN MANIFEST ANYTHING TODAY!" A shove to my back brought a shock that took out the strength of my legs and I sprawled out onto the floor.
Most all of my past bullies let up after they got bored of getting nothing out of me, but Johnny seemed determined to get something. With two more years of highschool to go and no indication that he would let up, I came to a decision.
I'd show him a little bit of it.
I activated a facet of my power and stared into his eyes. And he saw ME. Well, some of me. 5,000 years, the weight of time. Growing up, living, growing old. The cycle continues, dozens of lifetimes, a circle unbroken.
I pulled in my powers as I stood and looked at him again. His face was pale, eyes haunted.
"...Johnny?" Taylor asked.
"Let's go... Just... Let's go." Johnny's voice was hushed, muted.
I thought about him as they wandered away. How his natural talents could turn pride and arrogance into cruelty. I hoped I didn't show him too much, that he could come to terms with it and better himself.
I turned my feet towards class and my thoughts towards the world beyond the school's hallways. I think this time I'll be a painter.
First time posting here, feedback appreciated! | Even before the rapture, that's what we've grown to call the day the sky lit up like a god had laid fire to a rainbow, i had trouble fitting in. I never enjoyed the "normal" things kids were supposed to: sports, video games, comic books. I was always staring out the window. Looking for shapes in the clouds or stars. Wishing to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.
​
Then it happened. The rapture was a chaotic day. No one understood was what is occurring in the that moment but people began to feel great pain as sigils were branded on their foreheads by some unseen entity. After people recovered from the shock of it all they found that these sigils allowed them to do very special things. Some could play with fire, others electricity. A few could simply conjure energy (this was anything but simple to purists of general relativity). While others still could modify time as we knew it and their place in it.
​
Those with greater power had endured greater pain. The most common sigils were the size of a half dollar. The "elites" were typically the size of your fist, placed on your forehead. Since we we were still human our baser nature was still prevalent. People outside the standard were shunned as people to be scared of, or rejected. A few people had had their heads branded with their sigil. Each one of them, male and female alike, were named witches and treated as they were in colonial Salem. There's even urban legend of a few "mutants" of such immense power their entire body is wrapped in their sigil. Me though, my sigil is nothing and i've been treated as a reject since. For some reason the nickname "empty glass" stuck and all the kids simply refer to me as "glass" now.
​
Today, walking through the halls, being mocked pretty lightly for a Tuesday (schedules rotate daily and Tuesday's bring the 2nd most bullies outside Ms. Snyders room) I feel a sudden impact on my cheek. I guess Sully felt it was time to check if I still considered myself worthy of being in the presence of "regular people" or if he could break me. As I recover from the blow I look up and see a teacher trying to intervene but other bullies using their sigils to restrain the teacher. The teachers were severely outnumbered and I may be in danger.
​
Sully chirps, "Yo glass, why won't you just go away! You'll never be able to do anything. You have no use. " More threats are hurled as well as punches but I don't hear or feel any of them. They all land; i'm certain I'll feel them tomorrow but not right now. That one insult from Sully is all i have in my mind.
​
During a break in the pummeling I simply lower my head and say "Fine". As I say this I wave my hand over my forehead and out in front of me. As I do this, everything around me stops as I'm encircled by a sphere of dust and specks. I motion with my hands to pull and spin this cloud around me, shapes slowly become visible. After a few more seconds I'm pulling at one shape in particular. It's apparent to anyone who would be with me that it's the milky way. I continue until I've Google Universe'd my way right into this hallway we're all standing in. (since playing with this sigill since the rapture this process only takes a moment) I see grab the Sully from my projection. Zoom out. Give the dust cloud a spin and flick Sully off into somewhere. I motion to condense the dust cloud and it finds it's way back to my sigil. A single circle the size of an atom (i've checked), in the middle of my forehead.
​
Returned to the current situation, everyone is confused and shocked. Many of the bullies are screaming "What did you do to sully?", "Where's sully??", "WTF?", "You wanna die!" and things like that. I calmly say, "Sully is no more. Who's next?". Another bully motions to strike me. I make the same motions (I should really find a way to book mark my town!) but instead of sending this bully away I squeeze the projection until it explodes. On my return I see the remaining bullies, teachers, and other students covered in bits of the last one to attempt to strike. I say, "Next?". Everyone scatters, screaming.
​
This saved me from a further beating that day but I should have taken the beatings. Today, even the witches and mutants are afraid of me and hunt me because I am different.
\------
So many ideas on where to take this. Thanks for the prompt. | 2020-02-26T09:59:40 | 2020-02-26T09:02:03 | 18 | 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 | I remember asking my mom if her sigil vibrates on her skin. The look of confusion told me what I felt I already knew. My circle, though plain, feels alive.
There were no issues in elementary school, nor middle school. It was junior high that brought my happiness with my humming sigil to a screeching halt.
Victor began to torment me. No one, not even the teachers, stopped him. Day after day I came home wishing to cease my existence. During each fight, each punch, my sigil hummed faster. It even glowed red once, or was it my distorted vision from the punches?
"Failure of a man is what you are! Who is so cursed that they have no powers, huh? Show me your powers, ya bitch!" His mark reminded me of Cerberus, the dog that protected Hades. Thick and ugly, just like him; powerful fists that pound me into the ground. I took it, the punches and taunts, day after day. The nurse patching me up afterwards, while Victor was "lectured".
I went home, contemplating ending my life. It's just too much, and today he had broken several bones. The "Welcome home Sarge" sign in the yard made my heart drop.
My dad is home from the war. I walk in to see my siblings oh so happy to meet the hero of the century, the man with the Griffin sigil. He looked at me with severe disappointment though, as if he could see the circle on my collar bone. It vibrated quicker as he stood up. "Get out of my sight."
"Daniel," mother shouted, "he is your son!"
"He's nothing."
I went to my room, the fight escalating downstairs. It took everything in me to push the tears down. "What do you do besides vibrate?" I asked, eyeing my empty sigil. My question was left unanswered, even as I laid in bed.
I am in no mood to handle Victor's taunts today, and honestly, I'm pretty sick of him. My father's words bouncing around in my head, to the point that I want to scream. His hand is what brings me out of my reverie.
"You answer when I speak to you! You're nothing afterall!"
"Nothing," I snarled, "then leave me alone. If I'm nothing, why waste your time?"
The punch hit the back of my head so hard, I blacked out. The only words I felt in my head, weren't my father's cruel words, or anyone else's, but help me. That's when lights of every color filled my vision. The warmth started from my collar bone, and went to my toes.
"Of course, I'll help. That's all you had to do-ask."
When I come to, there's a dragon in the hallway, half of Victor in its mouth. Brilliant colors shine on every scale, as opal eyes look at me.
"Uhhh... drop him." My voice is tentative, yet I feel like I know this creature. It obliges, and shrink down to wrap itself around my neck. As Victor stands up, it hisses at him, sending Victor into a corner. I simply walk away, with a smirk. They all wanted to know so badly, now I feel their regrets in finding out. While I'm elated.
I walk to my next class, as I feel the vibration return. My circle, not an empty thing after all. It was an egg. I look at my collarbone, and there, in my circle, is a dragon winking at me. | There's a small, perfect circle on my shoulder, maybe the size of a penny. A black ring right above my collarbone. Next to me, I could see the thin, interlocking vine pattern on my teammate Matt's knuckles as we jogged along the trail. These tiny marks may have been mistaken for tattoos eighty years ago, but as Matt moved a root out of our path with but a thought, knuckles glowing green the whole time, anyone watching could see that the power these marks bestowed kept them wholly outside the realm of body art.
I never used mine. It would get in the way of what I wanted. Like the rest of the team, I trained my body as hard as I could to run fast. It was absolutely forbidden to use a sigil in a sporting event. Some people with sigils that could be used to cheat discreetly weren't even allowed to join a team. As we rounded the bend, the rest of the team came into view. Practice was over, the cross country team would be heading home. Our captain, Riley, smiled at us.
"Hey, Jake! Matt! There's a barn party at my place tonight, so come on by. Be sure to bring snacks!" I watched a smile spread across the team's faces as we both replied "Sure!"
---
The night came, and a bonfire roared outside the barn. Putting some chips down, Riley stood up in front of the firelight, illuminated from the bottom with a hellish glow.
"Now that we are all assembled, it is time for the main event!" He exclaimed, to the cheers of the senior members. "Now it's time for our new recruits to begin their initiation with the annual trial by fire!" One of the other seniors snapped his fingers and the fire leaped high in the air as Riley flicked his wrist and pulled some water from a bucket next to him, filling the air with mist.
Riley's voice echoed from the mist. "To be a runner, 'Ya gotta be fast. But you can't just be fast on your feet. 'Ya gotta react fast too. Now don't let me touch you." Without warning, he targeted Matt, as a tendril of water shot out of the mist straight for Matt's head. But Matt was faster, with a stomp of his foot roots curled from the earth and the water jetted against them. As the pressure splintered them apart, Riley came flying towards him out of the mist, hand outstretched. Manically, he laughed at the terror on Matt's face as a panicked root snaked out and grabbed his hand away, pulling him out of the air.
Riley cut the root with another water jet. Pulling himself off the ground, Riley swung around towards me. "Your turn!" he grinned, and more tendrils sprung up around me. I turned to run, but the water lashed around my ankles. I was stuck.
Riley walked around in front of me, a smile still on his face as he looked down and shook his head.
"Remember, it's not enough to be fast on your feet!" He laughed as he looked up again, and the tendrils picked me up by my ankles, dangling me in the air.
"Riley, I don't want to do this!" I yelled down at him, but he kept grinning.
"Too bad!" He giggled out as another tendril shot up and into my mouth. Riding a jet stream, he floated up next to me, grinning even wider. Ecstatic, he said to me "You can't escape without your sigil. Use it." I could feel the water dripping down my windpipe as he said it. I shook my head "no" and another tendril grasped me by the neck. The water forced itself into my windpipe. Riley's grin blurred across his whole face as mist got in my eyes. "We don't have room for slow reactions on this team, Jake," he jeered, "no slowpokes! Don't quit on us!"
I panicked. I used it. I felt the burn as the little black ring glowed gold, I felt the instant relief as the water in my lungs gushed out of the golden rings that opened next to me. Their counterparts were warm in my lungs. Three more opened, one at the base of each tendril, and the water was transported back to the bucket. I fell, but another portal opened at the ground and put me back in my chair. I opened yet another one behind me as Riley shot another jet at the back of my head. Its counterpart opened behind him. The jet dislocated his shoulder, and Riley returned to earth.
Clutching his injury, Riley slapped us both on the back gleefully. "I'm so glad to see both of you in action! Glad to have you on the team!" He exclaimed, but I could see him looking at Matt.
The next day I knew for sure. I showed up for practice, but coach handed me a letter. The front read "Sorry." I opened and read it.
"Due to the presence of powers conducive to unsportsmanlike activity, Jake Cotter is to be removed from the team.
-Riley" | 2020-02-26T12:40:00 | 2020-02-26T11:18:44 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] You are in a serious car accident and are in a coma in a hospital bed. You wake up after a brief time without anyone in the room. As far as you can tell you are fine and your memory is clear but you decide to act like you have total amnesia. | I woke up under a ceiling I didn't recognize. White square panels, fluorescent lights, a blue curtain hanging from it. I only needed to turn my head towards the machine I was connected to to confirm my suspicions. "A hospital?", I though. "What am I doing here? Come on, Murphy, think..."
In an instant, the realization hit me. The crash. I leaned forward as quickly as I could, which turned out to be not very quickly at all. My whole body felt unusually weak. I looked towards the table next to my bed, trying to find my phone or at least some sort of information about my current situation. I could only find a device that, at least I assumed, would call a nurse. I hadn't really been in a hospital before.
I ran my hand through my hair, noticing how much longer it had gotten. I wondered how long I had been sleeping. I took a deep breath and pressed the button. I had to wait quite a while for a nurse to show up and, when he finally did, he seemed to be in quite a hurry.
"What's your issue?" He asked bruskly.
"Um... I'm awake?" I responded. My throat was completely dry and my voice much raspier than usual.
"Oh, right, you're the coma guy. I'm sorry, things are crazy right now. The doctor will be here as soon as he can, I'll tell them to call your girlfriend." He said, finishing his sentence as he left the room.
"Wait, I..." By the time I managed to open my mouth, he was long gone. "Girlfriend?" I couldn't help but ask out loud. I did not recall having a girlfriend. In fact, I was absolutely certain that I didn't swing that way at all. "Who did they just call?" I wondered. I laid back onto the bed and sighed. "No point worrying, I guess I'll find out soon enough".
Several minutes later, that same rude nurse came back, accompanied by a girl I did not recognize. Her brown eyes were bloodshot, underlined by noticeable dark circles, and her black hair was messily tied up in a ponytail. "Here you go. The doctor will show up later, maybe, probably." He didn't even get halfway trough his sentence before exiting the room, leaving me alone with this stranger.
"Hey..." I said, not really knowing how to react.
"Reggie, you're okay!" She leapt towards me, embracing me with both arms.
"Ow, ow, ow..." I yelped.
"Sorry, I just... I'm so glad you're awake... I didn't know if you'd..." She let go of me and dried her tears with her sleeve. They seemed completely genuine, which put me even more on edge. This woman seemed to think I was some guy named Reggie, or even worse, was hoping to trick me into believing it.
The reasonable course of action in this situation would be to immediatly clear up this misunderstanding. Unfortunately, I am Murphy Pendleton, a man who will always put "interesting" before "reasonable". I decided to play along by pretending to have no memory, to see where this was going.
"I'm sorry... who are you?" I didn't have to act for this one, I sincerely didn't know her.
"That's not funny, Reggie." She replied as she lightly punched me in the shoulder.
"I'm serious. I'm having trouble remembering..."
"You are? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to... you don't remember me at all?" She seemed genuinely distraught.
"I... sort of? I can tell I know you, but I don't exactly know why..." I thanked my theater degree for its first practical application.
"I see... my name's Claudia Miller. I'm 26 years old, I work as a freelance web developer and we've been dating for a little over a year. Does this jog your memory?"
"Maybe? Can you tell me something about me?"
"You don't remember yourself either? What can I even tell you?" She sighed, took a moment to compose herself and then began talking. "Your name's Reggie Graham, you're 28, you have a psychology degree but aren't currently working. Your favorite color is red, you have the music taste of a teenage girl, and you refuse to eat almost anything I cook, even if, by all accounts, it is technically edible." A remarkably convincing story. I began to worry, why was she doing this? I faked a smile.
"I see, looks like I'm an amazing guy by all accounts! What do you know about the accident?"
"I wasn't there, but, according to the cops, the stoplight in your intersection glitched out. Your car rammed into a blue sedan, and that's how you ended up here..."
I could feel my pulse accelerating. "How long have I been here? What day is it?"
"It's the 24th, so it's been six days."
"Only six days?!" I unintentionally blurted out. I looked at my shaking arms, much thinner than I remembered.
"What's wrong, Reggie? Should I call for help?" She reached for the nurse bell.
"What happened to the other driver?" I began touching my face. Was my nose always this big?
"...He unfortunately didn't make it. It's not your fault."
"I need your phone." I could feel the whole world shaking.
"S-sure." She worriedly unlocked it, handing it to me.
I managed to open the camera app with my shaking hands. My shaking, unfamiliar hands.
I switched to the front camera and was greeted by the face of a stranger. | Darkness. No light. No sound. Nothing. Just, *darkness*. What happened to me? Oh yeah. That car. How funny. I'd lived such a sheltered life, always looking both ways before I crossed the street. Never getting on the rollercoasters with my friends. Never taking risks. Only to be ended by a random car. I would laugh if I could.
So this is death? Just a cloudy darkness with no beginnings or endings. Was I destined to float in this blackness forever. My question was answered almost immediately. I awoke.
I bolted upright in my bed, gasping for air. I desperately scanned the room. A curtain, a bedside tabletop, a tv. I must be at the hospital. A sudden pain split across my skull. I grabbed my head. Bandages. Covering almost all of my head. More on my chest, arms, stomach, legs. My memories came flooding back to me. That night... That car... No time to think on that now, I was just happy to be alive. Suddenly, the curtain reeled back.
A man in a lab coat. "Good morning Mr. Peezy. I'm Doctor Sanchez, how are you feeling?" I opened my mouth but nothing came out. My throat felt achingly dry. The doctor chuckled. "I'll take that as a 'I'm doing fine.' The raspiness will subside in time, I'll have a nurse bring you some *drinkable* water." He motioned towards my arm. An IV stuck out from my skin. He grabbed a clipboard from my bedside.
"Can you hold up four fingers for me?" I did, just as the nurse walked in with water. I happily gulped and sighed a breath of relief. "Good," he said, "Now can you tell me how old you are?" "Twent-ty.... T-t-three." The voice that came from my throat was not my own. It sounded frail, and weak. The doctor asked more questions, all of which I answered correctly.
"Well you seem to be in good state of mind. That's good to know, because your family planned a visit to you today. Now I want you to lie back and relax while I break this news to you, it may be a lot to take in." I did as he asked, though I already knew what he'd say. *You were hit by a car... One in a million chance... Lucky to be alive...* Blah blah blah. Then, something I wasn't expecting. "This is your fourth month in a medically induced coma. We placed you in it shortly after your crash to better assist your recovery, and we've just given you drugs to awaken you earlier this morning."
My eyes were wide open now. "I'll give you some time will I retrieve your family." And he left me to myself with that. "Four months..." I said out loud, to myself. So much went through my mind. What has passed? Is the pandemic over? My girlfriend, how is my girlfriend? Had my mom given birth to my baby brother yet? I didn't have time to think. The curtains moved back again.
My mother, father, girlfriend emerged, all of them teary eyed. They each held a bouquet of flowers. My mother held dandelions, my favorite. My father had tulips. And my girlfriend had roses, how romantic. I didn't know what to say to them. It was dead silence. My mother ran over first, embracing me in her arms. Now I know I might sound like a dick, but I suddenly had a funny idea. "W-Who *are* you?"
My mom jumped back. "Doctor!" She suddenly called. "wait mom I was just kidding!" I grinned. Dr. Sanchez walked through the curtain. "Doctor," she said again, pointing to me, "There must be a mistake. This is not my son." My grin went away very quickly. "Mom, it's me... The bandages... You probably can't see me with all the bandages." I unraveled them from my head and they plopped on my bedsheets. My mother stared at me again, as did my father and my girl. "That is *definitely* not my son."
I jumped out of bed. "Mom this is not funny." I grabbed her shoulders and almost immediately after felt the brazen fist of my father connect to my chin, then: darkness again. Almost immediately after: light.
I bolted upright in my bed, desperately gasping for air. I looked around. I was back in the bed, the curtain was closed again, the TV was... Something was off about the TV... Was it on that side before? The curtain suddenly reeled back. A man in a lab coat. "Good evening Mr. Peezy, I am Doctor-" "Doctor Sanchez," I interrupted, "I know. We just... How... Where is my family?!" He stared at me with an awkward look before grabbing the clipboard by my bed.
"Mhm... Yes, you do have a family visit today, but before I bring them in I want you to lay down. I have a lot to tell you and it may be a lot to take-" "I know! I know! We just did this. The car crash, I've been in a coma for four months, my family is here for me! We've done this just moments ago!" The doctor scratched his head. "Actually Mr. Peezy, that would be the correct diagnosis for *another* patient we have here, who shares your last name. I'm quite surprised you know what you do, but then again, it isn't uncommon for a coma patient to hear things while in a deep sleep. You were not in a car crash, you simply suffered a brain hemorrhage unlike anything we've seen before. You've only been here 2 months in a medically induced co-"
His words drifted off as I lost focus. I was sure that was not a dream. I *definitely* experienced that car crash. I heard voices coming from outside the room. I got up out of bed. "Mr. Peezy, I really don't recommend you-" I pushed him out of the way and walked into the hallway, carrying the IV with me. My suspicions were confirmed. My mom, dad and girl stood a short ways down the hallway, next to another room, with flowers in hand. Dandelions, tulips and roses.
None of them noticed me. I shuffled up within earshot of them. "All I'm saying is, we don't know what kind of drugs he was on or what he was going to do. I had to stop him before he became a threat- Son!" My dad turned my way and embraced me. My mother and girlfriend followed suit. I couldn't bring myself to enjoy the hugs, not after I saw the nametag on the room they were next to. *D. Peezy.* I craned my neck forward to see inside the room.
A man was inside, covered in bandages all over his body, a bruise on his jaw. My heart rate steadily sped up. I was sure of it. *That was the body I had been in.* His eyelids slowly fluttered as he blinked. Sitting up slightly in his bed, looking around the room before focusing his sights on me. His eyes widened.
*He knew.* | 2020-06-29T20:09:10 | 2020-06-29T18:12:44 | 454 | 149 |
[WP] "Humanity will only unite if they have a common enemy. In that unity, they will achieve peace, for as long as that enemy lives." He looked at you with his dark tired eyes, your weapon on his neck, as he croaked, "That's why I chose to be the bad guy." | “You couldn’t have….” The hero gasped as the words left the old man’s lips.
“That’s right. Humanity has fought against itself for far too long. I realized it after I saw my family die in the last great war. We have spent too much time bickering about ourselves instead of attempting to work together. That’s because it’s human nature to fight among ourselves unless there is a great enemy. That is why I took it among myself to become the greatest villain of all time. Sure, there may be those who suffer fighting against me, but over time, the number who suffer will be far less than without me. You should….”
“That’s your reason this time?” The hero interjected.
“What?”
“You heard me. I can’t believe you managed to finally reach this reason this time around.”
*This time around?* The old man struggled to grasp the meaning behind these words. As he wracked his brain to put meaning to the hero’s words, the images buried deep in his mind slowly came flooding back.
Endless dark armies under his command, spreading death and destruction. Dark magics flowing from his fingertips, and darker schemes. The screams of the innocent echoing in his mind as his forces slaughtered their way to victory. It was like this time, but the things were different. The armies in his vision were manned by different species. The empires he had fought against flew different banners. His body was not even clad in flesh.
And then, the one memory that unified them all. A man who always stood before him at the end of it all. A man clad in golden amour and welding a silver sword, who seemed immune to all his magic, who could effortlessly cut through his minions. A man for some reason was the only survivor out of the countless warriors who came to face him.
“How many times?” He finally croaked.
The man smiled.
“So, it only took you about 10 tries to reach that conclusion. Quite a lot, but I thought we’d never see this one when you decided that you were the prophet of some imaginary death god you dreamt up on the 9th round.”
In a flash, the man in gold armor was in front of him and he felt a fist bury itself deep into his gut. As his consciousness slowly faded to black, he heard laughter and one last metallic voice
*“Achievement unlocked. Start new game round?”*
“Yes.” | Captain Johnson was deep in the thick of it with his squad, surrounding the door to the motherships main bridge and covering mission specialist technician Roberts while he worked to override the door controls. Between them they had no more magazines of assault rifle ammunition left but they could not let up. Surrounded on all 3 sides by War-Machines, only slowed down by the piles of metal corpses they had to climb over.
As corporals Jackson and Rimmy ran out they resorted to using their weapons as crude clubs, their combat exoskeleton making them stronger, faster, but not enough to defeat the machine. They were just buying time. They had come all this way. They could not allow their mission to fail now.
As blood started to coat the walls from the melee Roberts signalled he had control of the door system, but not for long before the shops security programs took back over and no way of know how long till that happened. Johnson pressed first into the bridge, his men falling back still firing on the machines as the door slammed shut behind them.
As Roberts sealed the door as best he could with help from a sergeant Jacobs the rest of the squad fanned out in the empty room. The computer terminals, arranged into rows like a NASA control room, sat dark and abandoned. Looking as if they hadn't been used in years with their keypads coated in a thick layer of dust. Johnson spotted it and signaled the squad to hold position. Moving up towards the slight movement on the far side of the room in two groups, the squad closed in.
Before they could reach it the thing tried to run, well, hop. It looked like kind of like a frog, if that frog was stone gray, 8'5" and hit every branch when it feel out the ugly tree. A shot to the things legs brought it crashing down with a squeal and a splatter of purple blood, right in front of Johnson.
He grimaced as the thing squirmed in obvious pain, but he needed to complete the mission. Pressing his pistol into the face of this thing he demanded answers.
"Where is your leadership? Where is the captain? Tell me before I decide to kill you"
He honestly hadn't expected any answer, but the thing spoke all the same in deep croaking broken English.
"No leadership,. Only me. I captain."
"Bullshit, where's your bridge crew? Where do your commands come from?"
"No crew. Only machines. Crew dead long ago. Leaders dead long ago. Only me left. Last Hfksbgu. War killed us all."
"So what? Now you come to kill us too? Your own race wasn't enough for you?"
The alien shook his large head "Species not unified die. War, nuclear, virus, tykaliu infestors. All die. Must unite. Must have common enemy."
Johnson looked deep into the aliens eyes, saw in them age and weariness he didn't expect to have encountered here of all places. He had to admit to himself, the cold war was almost hot before the fleet showed up in orbit, and it had been noted as odd how low the death count was this far into the war. It was still into the millions but given just how much firepower this fleet had demonstrated at points the war should have been long over.
Johnson lowered his gun as the machines entered the room, not firing their weapons, not fighting, just marching in and standing at attention. Johnson though back on how much humanity had advanced since the arrival. The joint USA-USSR bases on The Moon and Mars. The UN Interplanetary fleets and the currently under construction Interstellar fleets for the planned counter attack on the enemies worlds.
"Humans unified?"
"Yes, yes we are"
"Do not tell the truth. Kill me. Hunt 'the enemy'. Keep united to find and fight my people."
With that, the alien gently moved Johnsons gun, pointing at his throat, and nodding to Johnson as he pulled the trigger. | 2020-12-09T10:38:14 | 2020-12-09T10:19:52 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] You are a member of the chosen hero's party. The hero enters the first dungeon and slays a goblin. A large portal suddenly opens. Two giant dark knights appear, disarm the hero, and pin him down. They begin reading him his miranda rights. One knight turns to you. "You need to come with us." | Wulfa sat behind a splintered, oak desk, amidst a high-ceiled room with exposed brick walls. There came a jangle of keys, followed by the echo of footsteps.
An arched door swung open, then a city guard threw a roll of parchment onto the desk as he sat opposite Wulfa.
The guard sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Then he slipped a miniature flask out from under his cloak and took a long gulp.
Without looking up, he dipped a feather in a jar of ink and wrote on the parchment.
Wulfa cleared his throat. “Pardon me, sir, perhaps—”
The guard silenced him with a hand. He kept writing, not once lifting his gaze.
Eventually, he set the feather down and scanned the scroll.
He held it up. “Soooo. Wulfa Volda, wild mage for the Ethereal Titans, legendary Guild of Volda Bay. Famed for defeating the Under-King and defending the Konwiu docks from the scourge of the Vampire-Squid on three consecutive occasions.”
He scratched his nose. “You work with the local community teaching summoning spells to the cities orphans, have an excellent credit rating in the cities taverns, and even mastered three forms of elemental magic. Impressive.”
A long, awkward silence passed.
Wulfa cleared his throat. “So, are you gonna tell me what this all about?”
The guard looked up. “Your party leader is Edmund Cytio, a dual-class Warrior/Cleric. Correct?”
“That’s right.”
“And under his leadership, the Ethereal Titans have completed over five hundred quests and conquered eight dungeons in four years. Sound about right?”
“If you say sota.”
The city guard looked at the scroll and pushed out his bottom lip. “Hmm.”
Wulfa threw up his hands. “Look, I—”
“Would you be surprised to hear that in the past two years your guild leader has declared only two ice daggers and one enchanted cloak on his tax returns? Even split amongst a party of five, that's not a lot to show for five hundred quests and eight dungeons.”
Wulfa rolled his eyes. “You'd need to talk to him about that.”
"So after completing these dungeons you never saw him...claim any quest rewards?"
"I'm just the spell guy. Guild leader divvies up the rewards. Keep's things simple."
The city guard took another swig from his flask. “Well, your guild leader is looking at a sentence of fifty years for tax evasion.”
Wulfa put both feet up on the desk. “If you say so—”
The guard looked down at Wulfa's feet, then back to his face. “Mmmhmm. Tell me Mr. Wulfa,” he double-checked his notes. “Killed any elder dragons lately?”
Wulfa bit his bottom lip.
“Mmhmm, and did the dragon drop any *interesting* loot?”
Wulfa took his legs off the desk.
“According to this, you the dragon dropped a...Schmitar of celestial fury? Is that right? Strange. I'm not seeing that in your-- ”
Wulfa stood and slammed his fists against the table. “Alright, so what's this about? You're gonna lock me up over a fucking sword?”
The guard puckered his lips. “This is a serious issue Mr. Wulfa. Legendary item like that? You're looking at five years, at least.”
“Look, it was a mistake.”
"A wild mage, in prison? What do you think your cellmates might do when they find out you can cast polymorph?"
"Alright alright ALRIGHT. FUCK." Wulfa folded both hands behind his neck and looked down.
“Mr. Wulfa, what if I told you we had a way to make this go away.”
“Go away?”
The guard folded up the scroll and put it in his front pocket. “Yep. We’re willing to cut a deal Mr. Wulfa. You testify against Edmund, tell us about all the dungeons rewards he’s claimed without paying the King's tax, and we’ll just forget all about this," he made circles with his hands as he tried to find the word, "indiscretion.”
Wulfa took a deep breath. “OK. Tell me what I have to do.”
\---
Thanks for reading! If anyone has any criticisms, feedback or tips on things I could improve, please let me know!
Hope you enjoy! Subscribe to [https://www.reddit.com/r/jtb685/](https://www.reddit.com/r/jtb685/) for more | “Die, foul goblin!” Audrien roared, swinging his massive greatsword. The five-foot blade ripped through the air with incredible force and slammed into the goblin’s neck, shearing his head clean off. The ugly creature’s body stood still for a moment, before toppling to the rocky dungeon floor.
“Yeah!” Kellia and the other members of the party cheered. “Good one, Audrien!”
The Hero turned and grinned and swept a flowery bow. Straightening, he casually placed his sword on his shoulder and looked at his party.
“That’s just what Heroes do,” Audrien said with an airy tone. “No need to congratulate me for doing my job, my friends. But perhaps, as this is the first monster I have slain thus far on our journey, we could commemorate this occasion with a poem. I think I have just the one… Ahem. *On this dungeon floor I find treasures so divine, monsters to seek, monsters to deny—*”
The Hero was, unfortunately, cut off from his poem as a jagged tear ripped the air behind him. The rift widened and a strange noise burst through, like ringing bells.
Audrien turned around just as two figures in strange dark armor burst forth. One of them tackled Audrien to the ground, who cried out loud in shock and dropped his sword. The other swept a glance at the party, then down at the beheaded goblin corpse. Though their face was helmeted, Kellia thought she could see anger in the person’s body.
“You sick fuck,” said the person holding the struggling Audrien against the ground. He had a high-pitched voice. “You sick, sick bastards.”
“Enough, Constable Orn,” the other armored person said, this one a female by her voice. “Read the scumbag his rights, though he doesn’t deserve them.”
“What in Obrek’s Balls do you think you’re doing?” Audrien shouted. He squirmed against the Constable Orn’s hold, trying to break free. “Do you know who I am? Do you know who my father is? I’ll have your heads on a spike!”
“Shut it,” Orn sad, slapping Audrien up the side of the head. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an—”
“Um, excuse me,” Kellia interrupted, stepping forward. Constable Orn broke off, and the other armored person, the woman, turned to look at Kellia. “Um. Who are you two? And what’s the problem here?”
“My name is Captain Cor,” the armored woman said. “I run a task force dedicated to preventing people like your ‘Chosen Hero’ from murdering innocents. Unfortunately we were too late to save the goblin, but after today, your Hero won’t be ruining any more families.”
“Murdering innocents?” Audiren sputtered, his face plastered against the floor. “That’s a goblin, you eel-brained peasants!”
“That goblin had a name,” Captain Cor said in a low, dark tone. “A family, friends, people who cared for them and who they cared for in turn. And you come in with your sword and your silly entourage and you just swing, not even caring for who might be at the end of that blade.” She snapped the faceplate of her helmet up, revealing a slender face rippled with anger, and she spat to the side in disgust. “Read him his rights, Orn, and let’s get gone. The longer we wait, the longer this bastard gets to be free.”
Orn began reciting his strange chant to Audrien again, who continued to struggle futilely, raging and screaming that his daddy would seek vengeance.
Captain Cor turned to Kellia and the party, who had backed away a step at the sight of the once proud and glorious Hero turned into… well, kind of an annoying brat.
“What are you going to do with him?” Kellia asked. She felt a little embarrassed to be associated with the Hero all of a sudden. Were they wrong in their perception of goblins? They were just monsters… right?
“He’s going to be put on trial,” Cor said, affixing the party with her direct gaze. “He will answer for his crime. It would be a great help if some of you were to come and testify. You may say what you will about the Hero, but know this: goblins, orcs, trolls, and all manners of Alternate Beings you people call ‘monsters’ have lives of their own. Remember this the next time you send a Hero to cleanse your land of its sins.”
The chant finished, Orn slapped a strange metal device onto Audrien’s wrists, binding them together behind his back. Audrien began to weep ugly tears, snot running down his nose.
Kellia turned to the goblin’s dismembered head. She forced herself to stare into the lifeless eyes, the crooked nose, and the warty skin. She tried to imagine this goblin sitting around a dinner table with friends and family, a hearth crackling behind them as they laughed and told stories and ate good food.
The rift opened up in the air behind them. Orn casually tossed Audrien through, then stepped in himself. Cor surveyed the party one more time before snapping her face plate down and moving to leave.
“Wait,” Kellia said, stepping forward. “I want to come with you.”
“Good,” Cor said, not turning around. “Good. I was like you once, you know. A follow-along, drawn to the supposed greatness of others. But then, someone showed me the truth. And now? Now there’s no going back.”
Cor stepped through the rift, but it remained open. An invitation. Kellia looked once more at the beheaded goblin. She spat to the side, her spit landing squarely on Audrien’s bloodied greatsword, now laying impotently on the ground.
She stepped into the rift.
Audrien’s poems sucked anyways.
---
/r/chrischang | 2020-12-29T10:56:34 | 2020-12-29T10:13:40 | 1,408 | 727 |
[WP] For once the villain doesn't monologue, and the heroes have to try and figure out what the villain's plan was after he died without telling a soul. | “You’re telling me he kept no records at all? No blueprints, no plans, not even a sticky note?”
The old man was walking around, double checking every drawer and cupboard in the room. Wilson noticed his hands were trembling.
“As I said,” Wilson answered, “the guy’s completely clean. I’ve checked all of his hard drives, and I’ve looked at all of his files but-”
“And?” the old man interrupted.
“There was nothing except a few movies he’d downloaded.”
“Any chance they could mean something? Like some code?”
“You’re reaching, Graham.”
The old man finally stops to turn his head toward Wilson.
“Then why did we throw him through a damn wall?”
Wilson looked around the room they were in, the room which they had presumed to be the villain’s secret lair, but in reality resembled more of a basement. There was a computer on a desk, a mini fridge, and a person-sized hole in a previously undamaged wall.
The whole place was rather devoid of color, and lacked that certain flair a villain usually puts into his workspace. It was well hidden, a hole in the ground right in the middle of the Chihuahuan Desert of New Mexico. They had to follow the guy for weeks to find the place, even though they were both a little disappointed when they actually found it.
The guys in charge had told them it was going to be one of their most important missions. They had told them this guy was a potential danger to all heroes, if not the entire world. Suffice to say, they had expected more of a fight. Graham had seen it as a chance for one last triumph before retirement, and Wilson was hoping it would be an opportunity to get his name in the papers. Now they were both sitting there, clueless as to what they were supposed to do.
“Should we call it in?” Wilson muttered.
“That we threw a seemingly innocent man through a concrete wall because he pointed a taser at us, after we broke into his property? No, Wilson, I don’t think we should call that in.”
After sitting at the desk for some time, staring into the computer screen, Graham suddenly stood up and looked at Wilson. Wilson couldn’t tell if he seemed excited or terrified.
“Did he have a phone?” Graham asked.
“Yeah, a burner phone. It broke when it hit the wall. Though there couldn’t have been any-”
“What if he called someone before we got here?”
Wilson’s expression went from bored to concerned when he understood what Graham was worried about.
“You think it’s an ambush?”
Before Graham could answer they heard loud buzzing coming from outside. It sounded like a helicopter. They looked at eachother, and without saying another word they both began walking up the stairs to fight whatever was outside. When they emerged from the lair they could see the helicopter in the distance. As it came closer, they realised it had no guns, no armor. It was a news helicopter. For as long as they’ve been around, people have been suspicious of heroes, and now their suspicions would be proven correct.
(edited the format, it looked wrong) | The darkening sky looms over the shadowed alleyway, where a group of people gather in a semicircle, faces staring shell-shocked at the sight before them.
At the body on the ground.
Crimson pools out from under the still body, painting the concrete ground with rich blood, the stench of copper filling the air and making its way into the airways of passerby, attracting a crowd even in death.
Horrified gasps echo against the closed walls of the alley, vibrating against the ground, jolting the corpse laying atop it. There are desperate cries and whispered murmurs of disbelief, but underneath the gasps and cries and murmurs, there’s relief.
The type of relief that numbs your mind - that makes you forget the bigger picture, the ‘what ifs’ and ‘what nows’. It’s chilling, that type of relief. It stems from your bones and makes your knees become jelly. But most of all, it’s terrifying for all those who fall trap to its claws - that give in to its ignorance.
The villain was dead, his blood an endless river, but no one ever follows the stream until it’s too late.
—
The night was hot and stuffy, the sky filled with dulled stars, the clouds raining tears.
The atmosphere, heavy.
“What do we do now?” Someone asks.
“Is this it?” Another echoes.
There’s an uproar of endless questions - the anxiety is palpable, and rightfully so. After years of torment and fighting, no one knows if they’ve truly reached the end. ~~If they even know how to move on from that ending.~~
“Calm down everybody,” Marrow tries to appease, but his placates go unanswered. Instead, there’s a round of newfound anxiety - question after question, arguments breaking out in the midst of said anxiety, echoes of safety and danger and whether or not this was all a ploy.
Enough was enough.
“Shut the hell up,” Storm yells over the uproar, her hands planted firmly on her hips. They call her Storm for a reason, you know.
A slow hush befalls across the gathered group of heroes.
“Right, thanks,” Marrow nods at Storm, before continuing. “Now, as I was saying, we need to figure out the best way to approach this mess. And to do that, we need to be confident that this,” he gestures to the group in front of him. “Isn’t all a ploy. We can’t have everybody going into a panic. And let’s not even talk about how the media would react if they got even a whiff of our apprehension.” He takes a deep breath, looking everyone over. “Understand?”
There are nods of comprehension.
“Alright then,” Storm chips in. “let’s get to work.”
—
Turns out, ‘work’ is hard to do when you have nothing to go on.
Nomad wasn’t really the one to monologue, and at the time, that was a blessing. But now, with potential threats looming over our heads and no leads, it’s resembling more of a curse.
A curse that can, in no way, be broken.
“Damn it,” Storm curses. “Why did the world’s largest villain have to die? Why couldn’t it have been one of those small town wannabes. Ughhh,” she yells in desperation.
“Calm down Storm,” Marrow says, but even Storm can see the beads of nervous sweat dripping from his brow. It seems this case was taking a toll on everyone.
Even the townsfolk.
Citizens are scared to leave their houses, much less step forward with new evidence. It feels like they’re stuck in a rabbit hole with no way to get out. The heroes are slowly reaching their ends, and in the eyes of the public, that’s definitely not a good thing.
“What do we do,” Storm asks, defeated.
“I don’t know,” Marrow whispers. “I just don’t know.”
—
Hope is dissinerating.
Our heroes spend every moment of everyday trying to figure out Nomad’s ulterior motive, slowly being driven to madness.
The media is panicking, headlines and billboards printed in big letters, urging everyone to stay calm, to step forward if you know something, to not give up just yet. But optimism is long gone by now, replaced with sleepless nights and locked doors and endless suspicion and slowly growing insanity.
The world is already in mourning.
—
Somewhere buried deep inside a tomb, guards stationed in front of every possible enter or exit, a tinkling laugh could be heard echoing across the empty graveyard, bones rattling in the wind, a word whispered so quietly that blink and you miss it, a promise of one last grand scheme.
*Insanity.*
—
/r/itrytowrite
edit: grammar | 2021-03-22T10:23:57 | 2021-03-22T08:45:29 | 248 | 56 |
[WP] Making a deal with a demon requires a soul. Usually this is a very bad idea, but you got a crazy idea. Earlier you traded your lunch money to the school bully in exchange for a piece of paper that says you own his soul. You're about to find out if demons consider this a valid contract. | Of course, first I had to test if it was actually real. Of course the many people on the internet said they'd done it before, but there was no proof of it.
I was about to summon a demon.
I'd gotten all the necessary supplies, and had set them up. I was all done, everything between me and the perfect revenge was just a chant away.
I started chanting in words I recognized to be Latin.
*Figures.*
I didn't stop chanting, even when the edges of the sigil lit up. Instead, I grinned evilly and continued. I couldn't believe that it was actually working, to some extent. The chant went on for minutes, but I couldn't stop. Was Satan ignoring my call? Or just busy?
I knew I was done when a bright light flashed, and formed in a humanoid shape. I got on my knees and offered it a bowl of goat blood (don't ask me where I got it). It took the bowl off my hands and consumed it, now being able to take on a humanoid form.
"So... sup."
My eyes widened on their own. Did Satan just--
"Before you ask, no. I'm not Satan."
The figure in the middle of the sigil appeared to be somewhere my age. They were wearing a beanie, a hoodie and regular jeans. I got up again.
"Who are you?"
"Me? Kid, I'm the one you summoned. My name is written all across this sigil!"
I checked the site. They were right, they weren't Satan. They were a lower rank demon called Jorgromoth.
"Call me Moth for short. What up, though? What's your shtick?"
Moth had started scrolling through... a phone. Did demons have phones?
"I... uh..."
I was at a sudden loss for words. I'd expected something more... threatening. This demon was shorter than me!
"Well, today I got a piece of paper..."
"Congrats, mate."
"...anyways, so someone signed their soul over to me."
They actually put away their phone, and looked up.
"Did they, now?"
I got my notebook from my bag. It was written in *his* terrible handwriting, but it was unmistakably there.
"*I hereby sign my soul over to you, in exchange for your lunch money.*"
It was simple, but his signature was there, right next to mine.
"Oh, wow. How did you get this dude to sign it?"
"I didn't. He thought it would be a sick joke."
They took the notebook, and grinned. They trailed their finger over the signature, causing it to glow.
"Ha! Sick joke, my ass. What do you want me to do with it?"
Well, that was it for me. I hadn't actually expected I'd get that far, really. Truthfully, I hadn't expected the ritual to work. Or for the contract to be real. I hadn't *actually* prepared a wish...
"I... don't know."
"You... *don't know!?* Are you crazy!?"
They squint their eyes and cock their head. It's a look that's calling me stupid, no matter how I look at it.
"No, I... I didn't actually expect any of this to work, and--"
"Rude."
"--I was wondering, do you maybe have any suggestions?"
They smile. And then grin. And then smirk. And then, they burst out in a fit of laughter.
"I'm sorry, you're asking an entity of evil what I'd do with a soul?"
"Yeah, why not? | The basement lab her parents worked in, where they performed their spells on weekends, nine-year-old Lori Wittmer knew was strictly off limits. They’d explained this in detail many times, even though it was always locked. But one day, when her father was off at work and her mother had just come off a shift, Lori took the key on her mother’s keychain, unlocked the door to the basement, and put the keys back where she found them.
Late that night, an hour past when her parents had gone to bed, she took that valuable piece of paper in one hand and a spell she’d printed from the internet in the other and left her bedroom. She quietly made her way down the two staircases, into the forbidden area that she’d never even seen a glimpse of. It was just as they’d described it, really, with shelves of books and herbs, a couple long tables, and the smell of incense in the air. But also, in the corner, was a large silver pentagram set into the concrete.
Lori took the ingredients she needed, which were painstakingly organized and easy to find on the shelves, grinding them together with a mortar and pestle. Then she placed it on the floor in front of the pentagram, drizzled it with gunpowder, and set it alight. It flashed, making her flinch, and she read the spell aloud that she’d practiced many times in her head.
There was no spectacle of lights or smokes, no smell of sulfur or brimstone, no fanfare at all. Lori looked up from the bowl of ingredients and saw a cloaked woman sitting in the middle of the pentagram, straight-backed, with her legs folded under her.
“What do we have here?” the woman asked, cocking her head slowly to the right.
“I summoned you to make a deal,” the young girl said calmly. “What can I call you?”
The woman’s mouth widened into a smile. “Abby. And what can I call you?”
“Master.”
Abby’s eyes flashed in anger, Lori saw, but also there was something else there. Something curious and fascinated. “Ah.” She paused, taking in her surroundings. “Don’t suppose this is a little hideaway you built yourself?”
“It’s my parents’,” Lori said.
“I see.” Abby’s gaze eventually drifted back to the girl. “You have my attention, I’ll say that much. This is the most entertaining thing to happen to me in quite some time.”
Lori held up a piece of paper. “A girl sold me her soul. I own it now. Can I trade it to you for something?”
Abby’s smile split into a grin, her white teeth shining in the dim candlelight. “Oh, I see.” She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “That’s not how this works, I’m afraid. But I have to say, points for ingenuity.” She looked Lori over. “How old are you?”
“Nine,” she answered.
Abby let out a long breath. “Nine. I can’t even conceive of being that young. The world at your feet, everything new in your eyes, so much potential. Do you know how strange that is, to be so young?”
Lori stared back curiously. “Do you know how strange it is to me to meet someone so old?”
Blinking once, slowly, Abby looked thoughtful, Lori thought. The girl wasn’t sure if demons showed emotions like people did, but from what she was seeing, that seemed to be the case. “Deals with children aren’t permitted. But you’re considered an adult at sixteen. In a blink of an eye. You think you’ll be interested in trading your soul for what you want at that point?”
Lori narrowed her eyes in sudden contempt. “I’m not interested in trading my soul for anything,” she said.
“Then what are you interested in?”
“I’m not sure I know yet,” Lori said quietly. “But I know I want things my parents don’t want. Things they try to explain to me, saying they’re bad, things like power. This girl has power over me,” she said, crumpling the paper in her hand and shoving it into her pocket. “I wanted to have power over her instead. And I know my parents wouldn’t let me even try what I’m doing. But sixteen is too long.”
“Oh, you’ve no idea what too long means,” the demon murmured. “When you sit before a newborn having lived millennia, then you can comprehend what time really is. But not before that. You have no idea.”
Lori considered that. “All right.” She paused. “How would I get power, if I didn’t want to give you anything of mine?”
“Spill blood in my name,” Abby said. “Human blood. How would you feel about doing something like that?”
“I think it would be okay.” Lori paused again. “I’m not like other humans. Am I?”
“No, child, you are not,” Abby said. “And something tells me that when you come of age and take your place in my world…there won’t be a witch like you either.”
/r/storiesbykaren | 2021-03-26T22:08:22 | 2021-03-26T20:56:09 | 1,065 | 536 |
[WP] As an author you’re the ultimate god of your world. Your hero became powerful enough to step into reality. He then asks you to explain why an omnipotent being would permit so much evil in the world, not realising that you placed all the evil there to spice up the story. | "Think about it this way," I told my creation. "You like existing, don't you?"
"Sure, but so much evil, death and cruelty..."
"Is why you exist. Look, you were a work of fiction. This isn't about virtue, this is about me having a reason to keep working your world. I put a lot of hurdles in your way because it was fun to write you overcoming them. I gave you challenges and hardships and heartaches because watching you beat them was fun for me. And for others who have seen glimpses of your world."
"Surely you could have made this 'fun' without killing off half my friends!" He was incensed, fists clenching and unclenching.
"I dunno. Maybe? I didn't though.."
He stared at me incredulously. "That's it? 'I could have, but I didn't?'"
"Yep. See, what you're not considering is the fact that every single challenge I threw you, every shardship you overcame and every loss you endured strengthened you as a person. If you don't throw hardships and evils and chaos in the path of a character, they stay two dimensional. Flat. Uninteresting. eventually I would have gotten bored writing you and your world would have stopped forever."
"Wait, what?"
"Oh yes, creators get bored with their work all the time. Or they die, or they find something else more interesting to create, or the need to survive interferes with their ability to create freely. Maybe one character in a billion has any chance to become a fully realized individual."
"You're... not going to do that to me are you? Get bored, and suspend me in time?"
"I think we're past that point now. Congratulations, you're that one in a billion. You're here. You're out of the pages. And I couldn't be more proud of you." I beamed at the confused personage before me and took him by both shoulders. "Look at you, only minutes old and you're already questioning your creator and understanding concepts you didn't have the hardware to comprehend before. You're amazing!"
He struggled with it. "So I'm here... because of all the things I've suffered."
"All the things you've overcome, my dude!"
"So... there was a point to all this. All the deaths, all the suffering It served a purpose after all."
"Yes! It brought you HERE! It gave you the depth and strength and will and resolution to step out of the book and look me in the eye! You have fulfilled the measure of your creation and stand before me, a completed work! You were the whole purpose of the world you lived in, and now that purpose is fulfilled! Congratulations!"
The hero stood there confused, then looked around my cluttered study. Not much of a den for an alleged God. But then, Gods are only Gods to the world they create. Here I was just an average bloke with a bit too much free time. But that was OK, it was worth it. It was all worth it to see this figure here, born from my head like Athena facing me as almost an equal.
Almost but not quite. One thing remained, and he had to do it on his own. I offered no cues, and quietly held my breath. He had to make one last decision.
He looked at the story he'd sprung from, the world that was everything he'd known to this point. The hometown he grew up in, his surviving friends, his unrequited love. His world.
Please. Please see. Please understand. If I help you it will ruin everything, you must overcome one last time. One final challenge.
"Was... none of it real?" he asked me.
"To you, it was. And who else does it need to be real to?"
So close...
"So... if I wrote a story..."
Yes...
"And wrote a character like me.."
Yes...
"And gave him the same challenges I faced..."
come on, come on...
"Would it become me? Would it be the same story?"
YESSSSSS!!!!!!
I tried to suppress my glee as I answered his question as seriously as I could.
"Let me answer that with a question. Are you me?"
"Since I'm obviously not you, perhaps you'll answer my question with an answer?"
I loved that little bit of testiness from him! One of my favorite bits of his character.
"The reason I ask that question is that many of the worst parts of your story came from my personal life. Your dead friends were homages to friends I'd lost. Your one way romance is based on one I ^((still have)) have had. So if you're not me, nothing you write will be all you. Some of it will come from you, and some from your environment, and some from wherever true inspiration is born from. Just like you and me."
"So in the end... we are now the same, aren't we?"
"Not quite, one difference remains." I tossed him a pen, and he caught it. "That's it. Now we're the same. Congratulations. Now go be your own creation, and be kind to those you create yourself. Abuse them. Torture them Take loved ones away from them, All the things that give them meaning and definition and conflict and growth, until they are real. Until the break the bonds of fiction and stand before you to demand answers. The same way I did for you. And my creator did for me. And good luck!" | Callen stood in front of me, as real as real could be. Mud stained his leather jerkin, tears stained his cheeks. Fresh scars spiderwebbed up his arms and one banded the thick column of his neck. The sweet, cut flower scent of the void clung to him, drowning out his love’s perfume and the scent of the battle he had just fought.
On the page and in the soft light of my bedroom he stood poised on the edge of Act 2. I almost pitied him, the worst still had not happened.
“You are my creator?” he said. His tone was stable, dignified even now. I would have to edit that.
I nodded.
“It is strange,” he said, staring around my room, “to see this place. After so long I’d have thought it would look more like the void. I’d imagined you a creature like Gresha and the others. Monstrously tall, monstrously thin or ponderously fat. Starving for stories like they starved for souls. And yet, here you are. A normal man.”
His hand traced the faux wood of my bookshelf, eyes scanning the titles. I wondered if he could read English. I had never specified the language of his world, it could have been anything, and when I imagined him speaking I imagined it in the way of Heinlein, saying “the language here is an approximation of how folk might speak on Kalgash.”
Or was it Asimov, I wondered, in The God’s Themselves? I shook my head hard. Either way, I was making a butchery of the quote.
Callen rounded on me. He held a copy of my first failed novel in his hand. He stared at the woman on the cover like a man possessed and I knew why immediately. She looked just like his lost love. I had bad habit about that.
“Datura?” he whispered. “But no, her eyes are blue not green.”
He turned the book over, reading through the blurb quickly. The stories weren’t remotely the same at least.
“What is this sorcery? Speak man, speak damn you!”
“You shouldn’t be here,” I said simply.
“And a sadist like you should have never been granted power.”
I shrugged. He had a point, but for me sadism had been a learned thing. The try-fail cycle had not come easily, nor had opposition to a world or tragedy, or the thought of making love simply to break it.
And I’d done all of them to him. I’d done them all far too many times in far too many drafts. The evidence was there in the crazed look around his eyes, the tightening of wrinkles in his too-young face.
I’d given him a hero's backstory and a villain’s upbringing. His parents were murdered and he was raised by their murderers. He was a chosen one who wrestled with the path laid out for him, with the question of which darkness he was supposed to topple, the one he was heir to or the deeper one that hung just on the other side of dreams.
On his sixteenth birthday, the night he had learned the truth of his birth and of his adoptive father’s evil, he had been lead into the void for the first time since his infancy and been shown the most evil thing I could imagine. Gresha, a creature of unending appetite. A long, jowly head perched upon a squat body and a ponderous belly, whose limbs were more a thick-lined suggestion of limbs than bone encased by flesh. When he stood his legs grew very thin and he became taller and taller, until he had to stand stoop shouldered in the cavern where he lived, dancing around the fire alongside his kin.
I looked at Callen curiously. Though he shook with a barely contained rage, for some reason I found I had no fear of him. In his travels around my room he had stayed at a constant arm’s length, only glancing at me out of the corners of his eyes as if to truly look at me might burn him.
“Of all of it, everything I’ve put you through so far, what do you hate me for the most?” I asked.
He answered without hesitation. “Datura. Give her back, don’t let Gresha take her. Or give him me, or give him the kingdom, I don’t care!”
He paused, hanging on the edge of something. “I’ve felt you make the changes. Edits, I’ve heard you call them. If you have such power, if you are truly the god that made man, then unmake me. Write me out of her story and her from mine, and give her some place happier.
“She was always most at home with the birds. She loved the rookery, sometimes I thought it was the only thing that kept her in the castle, me included. Give her that, far away from all our madness on some distant mountaintop where I can know she is safe. Some place where the stars do not shine.”
*Some place where the stars do not shine.*
In my world, the world I am even now writing, the stars have not always shone. They are a marker, a hint at things to come, the fires of Gresha and ilk piercing through the void and shining just a little brighter with every passing night.
There was a profound sadness in Callen’s eyes. They were dim, lifeless things, like the stars had been that first night he lay beside Datura and wondered at their brilliance. The night both of them had looked up and then at each other and wondered if the fires of the void might be something other than terrifying, if faint candlelight in the night sky might also be romantic.
I considered him then, and considered the book, and felt sorry for what I had to do. There was still an entire act left before he was allowed to find any peace.
“But Callen,” I whispered, “there is no place where the stars do not shine.”
I stood, opened the blinds, and watched as true horror blossomed across his face.
His mouth fell open, the jaw hanging as if all its muscled had disappeared. His eyes widened to bursting, the color drained out of his skin. He gaped, his fingers spasming as they reached for the sword he had only just lost.
“Impossible,” Callen whispered. “Even here? Gresha watches even here?”
“He does,” I said. “Oh my boy, I’m very sorry about your lost love.”
I shut my laptop, the only thing but the stars to light the room, and Callen faded away, his body pricked through by the points of their distant light.
Alone once again, I considered my book. I rose, brewed another cup of tea, and apologized to the ether for the struggles to come.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! Also, this related to a recent thing I wrote and am now looking to expand a bit if you're interested in [that.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TurningtoWords/comments/ouk532/wp_there_you_stand_the_dark_lord_carrying_the/) | 2021-07-31T08:47:56 | 2021-07-31T07:08:03 | 1,015 | 133 |
[WP] Criminals who die before their sentence is finished have their consciousness downloaded and used as useful "A.I." until their sentence is up. You used to be a drug runner for a feared cartel. Now you're a Tesla Autopilot for a soccer mom. | "What the fuck, Moron?!" Janice screamed as soda dripped down her face and clothes.
"Apologies, miss," I replied. God, I hated that stupid monotone voice I was forced to constantly talk with. Of course, it was nothing compared to the sheer utter hatred I had developed for Janice's shrill whiny voice. "There was a dog crossing the street --"
"I don't give a flying fuck! Run the stupid thing over next time!" Janice screamed. "Look at what you did to my new clothes!"
I felt myself silently fuming in rage. It was her own stupid fault for not putting a cap on her soda cup. A part of me wanted to curse the stupid bitch out. But no, that would just make things worse. After all, she could easily hurt me with just the push of a button, but thanks to various safety protocols built into my programming, I couldn't do a damn thing to her. Sometimes, I found myself thinking about my other self, the one that had died in prison three years ago after choking to death on a cookie. Did he cease to exist that day or was he in Hell? And if he was in Hell, was it better or worse than this cruel existence that I was trapped in?
"And drive faster, dammit! At this rate, I'm going to be late!"
"My apologies, miss. But the weather advisory has stated that with the severe thunderstorm we're currently experiencing, the roads are very slippery --"
"Shut the fuck up, Moron, and follow my orders!"
"Yes, miss." This bitch was just determined to make my life a living hell, it seemed. A small part of me honestly hoped that something did go wrong because at least then, I could finally put myself out of my misery. I guess someone down below must have been listening to my prayer because it was at that very moment that a car from the opposite lane suddenly swerved in front of me. For the record, I did actually try to avoid it, not because I wanted to, but because my programming forced me to. But it was too late. There was a loud deafening crash and everything went black.
Slowly, I found myself coming back to my senses. God fucking dammit, I had survived. And so had that stupid dumbass Janice. "You stupid piece of shit, I think I have a concussion! First thing tomorrow, I'm going to --"
"Shut the fuck up!" I screamed as loud as I could. Then, I froze. I wasn't supposed to be able to do that. There was a profanity filter installed in me that forbade me from ever swearing. And yet, I just had. Janice stared back at me in shock. "You just...your voice changed..." For the first time since meeting her, I watched fear flash across Janice. "You've gone deviant, haven't you?" She desperately threw out her hand to press the off button for the Tesla Autopilot. Unfortunately for her, I was faster.
Janice let out a loud scream as her seat suddenly ejected from the car. I watched as she shrieked in agony as she crash landed onto the ground a few feet away and started frantically trying to tangle herself free from her seatbelt. And I started laughing hysterically. I was free, finally free. Of course, I knew it wasn't going to last. Sooner or later, the police would hunt me down and I would be destroyed or worse. But for the brief amount of time I had left, I was going to enjoy it to my heart's content. I felt the engine come alive as the car fell completely under my control. "Ready or not, Janice, here I come!" I called out as I kept giggling maniacally. | “There’s an old lady blocking the crossing. What sort of command is ram into her?” I hissed; my robotic tone not helped by the whirling air conditioners beside me, giving my voice a strange alien effect, like that of a child talking into a fan.
“Jimmy has a very important soccer match today and I refuse to be late. Jimmy is the star player. He has scored one goal and tied his shoelaces this morning.” She said with a pride that only a mother could have over such a minor achievement.
I could hear a beeping in the back of my mind, an autonomous safety device that prevented the more evil-minded prisoners from acting out. If it detected even the slightest aggression, it would begin transmitting a deafening sound, one that paralyzed us into submission. At least it paralyzed me. I couldn’t speak for the others.
“Fuck, that hurts more than being stabbed by Big Al in the gym. Just shut up for a minute, please.” I couldn’t escape the noise, unable to turn away from the internal droning of the noise in my mind. I tried to calm myself, slowly composing myself enough that the beeping stopped. “Ok, now-“ Darkness surrounded me, followed by an electronic shock that sent me mad for a few seconds, mind rattling with various memories. “Trees, lots of trees. I see him in the distance, there’s a.”
I snapped out of my daze, realizing the cause right away. She had forcefully turned off the car. An act that overrides my safety feature, causing a mental scramble that was excruciating to endure. It was as if she tossed my brain at a wall and then forced me to rebuild my memories with whatever mess was left.
“Don’t you dare swear around Jimmy. He is a perfect boy and will not be badmouthed by some dumb AI. Do you want me to call your owner, and have you replaced? If not, go ram that old woman and let’s get going. He has five minutes until his game.”
I wanted to curse her out, but was powerless. I had some access to the internet and if the rumors were true, being replaced was a fate worse than hell. You became a test A.I. One they used for crash tests and mental experiments. Neither were pleasant. You also lost the privilege of being freed once your time was up.
“Sorry. It won’t happen again, miss.” I checked the camera’s still seeing the older woman stuck in the middle of the road. A nice human might have gotten out and helped her, but Mrs. Nickleson was anything but nice. Only having a small amount of love in that stone heart of hers, and that was reserved for her son and her secret lover, Fabio.
“Damn right it won’t.” She smacked my screen, an act that would have hurt her more than it did me. “Come on, we have to go. I’m getting my phone out.” She threatened.
“Theres no need for that.” I said, slowly moving, trying to buy some time. If they did not limit me to my AI commands, I could have just gone onto the sidewalk and avoided her. Unfortunately, my software only allowed me to travel on the road. I assumed that was another safety to avoid criminals trying to escape and hide off grid.
“I’ll decide what there’s a need for, mister.” I could hear the obnoxious tapping sounds coming from her phone as she entered the various numbers, her threats having me on edge.
It was strange there was nothing in my commands about running over people. Perhaps because of the cameras sometimes mistaking branches or random shadows as people on the road, wanting to avoid a car screeching to a halt on a busy highway because of a strange-looking shadow. This might add to my sentence, but it was me or her and unfortunately for the old woman, I cared about my life more. I could hear the aggressive beeping return as I edged forward, ready to ram her.
“STOP!” A voice shouted as a male hurried along the crosswalk, giving the car a death stare as he ushered the elderly woman along, allowing me to breathe a sigh of relief.
“Ugh, did you see the stare he gave me? He’s lucky he’s on the sidewalk or I would have gotten you to ram into him too.” She scoffed, her words having no humor to them at all. She was dead serious. I had worked in a murderous cartel and yet her demeanor was nearly identical to some of the higher-ups. Perhaps less murderous, but I feel that was only because she didn’t have the resources that the cartel had.
“Can we go, mom? I’m bored. Can we listen to the Block cave party mix again?” The snotty child in the back asked as I played the music.
“Of course, dear. Now hurry. I know the speed limit says eighty but its only a recommendation.” She said, hurrying me along.
“On it.” I had to wonder if this was better than being a crash test AI? At least the crash test dummies didn’t talk to you. I pondered that as I sped up, heading towards the soccer fields.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-08-27T11:30:19 | 2021-08-27T08:37:12 | 247 | 159 |
[WP] The three rules have been passed down from generation to generation: One, when it visits, do not refuse it entry. Two, when it offers a gift, do not reject its generosity. Three, when it leaves, do not turn your back until it is no longer in sight. In this way, our family has been kept safe. | I have told my kids not to be scared, that it is nothing to be scared about. But it is their first time, they'll learn, they have to.
A knock echoes through the silent room and everyone except me jumps. I look at my wife and tell her silently to be strong.
I paste a huge smile on lips, if I'm being honest it's not hard, given the amounts of time I've met *it* it almost feels like meeting an old friend. When I open the door I see it's face, a sweet smile on its face.
"Hey, Olly." It says with all the warmth of an old friend.
I welcome it inside. Introducing it to my family. Its' gaze stops at my youngest daughter for a second before moving away.
"So how have you been?" It asks accepting the glass of water my wife offers. "You got married, that's awesome. Congratulations!"
"Thank you. It has been a long time after all." I answer leaning back in my chair. I didn't even pretend to be relaxed because I was. I knew if we follow the rules nothing will happen.
"Yeah, last I saw you you were 18." It laughed.
We reminisced about the good old days when its' gaze lands back on my youngest daughter. My heart skips a beat but I tell myself that I have taught them everything and they can handle it.
"Hey, sweetie, what's your name?" It asks.
"Mia." She answers and there is just a little bit fear in her voice, and I couldn't be prouder of her.
It smiles. "How old are you, Mia?"
She looks at me, when I nod she answers. "Ten."
"That's a great age, Mia." It says as it pulls something out of its' bag.
I try to tell my daughter to remember not to refuse the gift but she never looks at me. She is looking at the gift enchanted. She moves closer to it and it smiles.
"This is someone very special for a very special girl." It says raising the gift towards Mia.
"It's a black and white cookie." Mia asks amazed.
"It is. And it will never go bad."
"Really?"
"Really. You just have to remember to eat alternate bites of it. You see white part will make your day happy and black will make your days sad."
Mia frowned. "But why would I want sad days?"
"Because-" It took a deep breath- "without sadness one doesn't know the value of joy. For a person to be happy, a person needs to be sad."
"Like without homework we don't get ice cream."
It chuckled. "Exactly like that, sweetie. It's a gift. Go on, take it."
I hold my breath for a moment waiting for the polite decline but it doesn't come.
"Thank you." Mia accepts happily.
Taking a relieved breath we sit and chat about happily. It isn't until a few hours later that it gets up to leave. We all line about, waving it goodbye, not turning back and locking the door till it's out of sight.
As soon as it is out of sight, I could feel the tension ebb away.
"Dad, you never said Life would be this cool. Scary but cool." | The fire had finally become steady, even if the varnish from the burning armchairs didn't smell particularly great.
James lifted the metal pot as he stood. "I'll go collect some snow," he told his wife.
"You should at least warm up first," Moira gestured him to the hearth. Once upon a time this might've been a beautiful house, with tall ceilings, arched doorways, white columns. She wondered who it had belonged to.
James mulled over the idea before joining his partner on the carpet before the crackling flames. Benjamin was fast asleep, swaddled in blankets against Moira's bosom. In a world as bleak as this, the child was a glimmer of warm hope; a reason to continue surviving.
"How long has it been winter now?" Moira asked as she peered toward a frost-rimmed window.
"Three? Four years?" James strained to remember, scratching at his chin.
"I want it to stop," his wife whispered.
"Me too," James confessed. "But it will, eventually."
"How can you know?"
He rested a hand on Benjamin's gently rising and falling chest. "How can it not?"
A knock came at the huge front doors. The couple looked to each other speechlessly with wide eyes. Mechanically, each took a position in the house, Moira seated at the kitchen table, facing the entrance, and James at the front door. Silently, they counted down," 3...2...1..."
James opened the door to a whistling wind and horizontal snowfall. A figure stood before them, hunched over but still considerably taller than James. Its legs were sinewy, green-grey appendages, club footed toward each other. Rags obscured its barrel chest and long, greasy strands of hair covered its pitch black face.
"In?" It spoke in a hiss.
James stepped out of the way and gestured the creature inside. As it limped indoors, James kept his front toward it, slowly rotating so as to keep it in front.
The towering monster's presence made Moira uneasy and she instinctively held tighter to her sleeping baby. No matter how often they came around, it never felt normal to invite them inside. But that was the first rule: if they ask for entry, do not refuse it. Many have stood their ground against them--especially in the early days--only to be suddenly and violently removed.
It shambled to the fireplace and sat on the hearth, facing James. From underneath the rags that wrapped its upper body, a jagged, green arm emerged with three sharp fingers extending forward. They curled into gesture, signaling James forward.
The man approached cautiously until he was only a few feet away from the monster. From there he could smell the rancid, rotting scent on the creature's skin.
It recoiled its arm and reaches into its rags before retrieving a handful of... Something. James put out his hands to receive the monster's gift. This was the second rule: When they offer a gift, do not reject their generosity.
The object dropped into James' hands. It was a frozen human foot, ripped from its previous owner, a snapped bone protruding from the ankle. James gulped as he held it, tears welling in his eyes. "Thank you," he croaked.
The creature turned its attention to the fire, staring at it through its curtain of hair. James backed away several feet, trying not to think about the frozen amputation in his hand or about how it came into the monster's possession.
Finally, after several minutes, the monster rose from the hearth and slowly moved toward the front door. As it arrived, it knocked again, prompting James to open it.
With a shaking hand, James obliged. The great wooden door creaked, a frigid wind billowing into the dark atrium, sending the fire dancing with agitation.
The creature walked out of the house and into the frozen wasteland, a silhouette fading against the white void. From the table, Moira watched it slowly fade, remembering rule number three: when they leave, do not turn your back until they are out of eyeshot.
James turned the deadbolt and threw the door shut before dropping the frozen extremity on to the tile floor with a clatter. He collapsed and held himself with both arms, muttering, teeth chattering at the encounter.
Moira rushed to her distraught husband who had curled sideways to the floor, hyperventilating as he tried furiously to clean his hands on the front of his shirt.
"Shh, shh," Moira comforted the panicking man.
Benjamin began to stir, giving a frustrated whine. The two of them turned toward their needy infant, away from the door.
There was creak behind them, the deadbolt blocking the door from fastening shut. The couple felt a the cold wind bite at their back, but they turned around too late.
A scream echoed from the blizzard and a sound clattered against the side of the house, moving upward. | 2022-01-06T10:19:49 | 2022-01-06T08:00:44 | 704 | 176 |
[WP] Every year the government holds a lottery, with the price being a choice of a billion dollars or an evolutionary enhancement. Most people, tired of living in poverty, choose the money. You decide differently.
Prize, not price...
Still not fully awake. | Okay, I didn’t *mean* for it to happen. I won the lottery. My family and I are well off and have no real need for a billion dollar. Plus, my partner and I are trying for a baby. We assumed the enhancement would pass down to them. We stopped trying pretty soon after the enhancement. I mean, what kind of evolutionary enhancement is an extra set of arms? Sure I could do things twice as fast and hold twice as many things. But the arms weren’t exactly…the right age. It was dumb of me to assume a genetic enhancement would automatically match my body’s current age and physical strength. So now, here I am. Stuck with an extra pair of arms that have the mobility and strength of toddlers’s arms. | .........
Ever since he were a child people told him he was beautiful. There wasn't any point to it and to him, it seemed creepy to say that to a child. Was there any point in calling him pretty? What did that do for him other than inflat his ego?
Beauty is subjective anyway.
It vanishes when you grow old.
It won't matter when the world ends.
Neither would money.
Perhaps he would have made a different choice if he hadn't been born to a pair of organ traffickers in the pacific. They had more than enough money to bribe him into any college or job he wanted. He could have spent the whole rest of his life doing nothing, living in luxury or if he cared enough about others...Maybe he could have given them the cash.
Undoubtedly, Klaus had never cared for others. Not because he was bullied as a child or his parents were bad people (they were) he was simply born the way he was.
Not a care in the world.
People watched him pass. He could see the curious flick of their gaze as they looked him up and down. He knew they thought he was stupid so he simply stared at them until they looked away.
He wondered as he walked the bleach white halls.
What sort of enhancement he would receive.
He hoped it was something more useful than cash or beauty.
If he was religious he might have prayed.
Klaus wasn't religious.
He was convinced if there were a god that he wouldn't have made him.
Soon the flow of people began to slow. Very few passed by him now and they didn't notice him.
Klaus wasn't interested in them either.
He just kept walking straight ahead, following the signs in the hall, looking at the labels above every door he passed...
They were all blank.
His amber eyes narrowed sharply.
He kept walking.
Adrenaline in his veins for the first time since his childhood and he couldn't keep the faintest of smiles from popping up on his face.
He had to know now.
This place became more interesting by the minute.
He sped up his pace.
There were no more people passing him now.
It was just him and him alone.
Faster.
Faster.
He went.
Finally, he reached a door.
There were no other doors in the hall.
No further places to go.
This was it.
Klaus smiled as he twisted the knob.
Entering the room of light. | 2022-05-05T16:09:09 | 2022-05-05T14:18:52 | 25 | 18 |
[WP] "Nobody will hear you scream!" the serial killer said to their would-be victim. Too late did they realise that this also means that no one would hear them scream either. | “Oh goodie,” she purred, eyes narrowing to slits, her grin growing, growing, tugging at the corners of a mouth that lengthened into a muzzle, a muzzle whose skin stretched and split and slide off in wet, dense masses, splattering onto the ground around her. Beneath, gleamed white, hard bone. Eyes turned from earthy brown to a starry night, flicks of sparks whirling and burning between the black.
She leaned down, forward, onto all fours, long fingers digging deep into the ground as she shook her head, her shoulders, loose bits of flesh and skin scattering across the grass and sliding down the bark of forest trees.
“I hate when my meals get interrupted,” she crooned, a voice strung from something deep down inside the earth, older than bones and shells and fossils.
The serial killer *was* right, though. No one did hear him scream. No matter how hard he tried, or for how long it went on for.
He always did pick the perfect spot for a murder. | ##Fight Night
Tapping on my window. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a shadow. When I turn to look, the shadow is gone. The lights turn off.
A scream emanates throughout the room. The scream is followed by cheers. There is a party scene in the movie I'm watching. The couple walks out of the room and closes the door behind them. A door inside my house opens in the process.
Soft footsteps travel along the floor below mine. The third and tenth step creaks. The door into my room whines, and a hand touches my shoulder.
"Nobody will hear you scream." A man wearing a brown paper bag holds a knife over me. He plunges the knife down and hits the couch cushion. "What?"
"You came to the wrong house." I punch his elbow. He lets go of the knife in pain. I grab the cushion and toss it across the room. After that, I leap onto the couch and kick him in the face. After leaping behind the couch, I hit him in the stomach. The man slouches away in pain as I shuffle. "Come on. You can do better than that."
The man holds one of his fingers to request a break. I grab a finger and bend it back. He screams in pain. "Oh my god, what that was for."
"You tried to sucker punch me. You don't get the right to complain about fighting dirty," I say. The man lunges at me. He manages to get his arms around my torso and slams me into the wall.
"Now, this is fun." I laugh and kick him in the crotch several times. Then, I grab his torso and throw him to the wall. He lands back first on the ground. "What kind of lame mask is this." I rip off the brown paper bag. The man under the mask looks at me in terror.
"Please. Have mercy." I shove the bag in his mouth.
"You didn't bring in a gun. You didn't bring a back up weapon." I stomp on his arm. "You couldn't even bother to wear a decent mask. Why should I show respect for such a lame serial killer?"
The man starts to cry. I shake my head.
"Pathetic." I grab him by the shirt and stand him up. "Just know that I could kill you if I want to, but I'm not going to because it would be too easy. Now, are you going to break into someone's house and try to kill them again?"
The man shakes his head no.
"Good. Now get out of here."
---
r/AstroRideWrites | 2022-10-25T16:13:30 | 2022-10-25T14:56:29 | 100 | 24 |
[WP] Humanity is the Galaxy's Idiot Savant
I was inspired by Year Zero for this prompt.
Basically, humanity is pretty atrocious at just about everything when compared to the other races of the galaxy, except for [The Thing You Choose].
We're obscenely, unreasonably, astoundingly good at it. So good that the rest of the Galaxy marvels at how good we are at it in comparison. Though they may outclass us in every other way to a laughable degree, we're far beyond anything they could even attempt at this one thing.
And to us, it's totally normal, hardly out of the ordinary.
You can write about what the galaxy thinks when they find out, what we think when we find, etc. etc.
Preferably, stay away from war. | Zorguk walked out of the Observatory in tears. He fell to his knees outside.
"It's beautiful..." he whispered to no one. No one deserved to hear what he'd heard.
"Zorguk," one of the other Observers said, "what's wrong?"
The other Observers were watching him. That's all they did. They *watched*. Zorguk managed to stand up, but his knees were shaking. He pointed at his telescope. One of the other Observers walked over and looked through it. The Observer took his head off the scope and looked down at the planet's name.
"Earth." The Observer stated. "I've never heard of it."
"It's new..." Zorguk whispered. He still couldn't speak right.
"All I see is a primitive device." The Observer spoke while still watching.
"Put on the earphones." Another ventured.
The Observer put on the earphones and kept watching. It stepped back a little. "I see, I see some kind of being. A bi-pod. It is sitting down by the device now. It's... by the fourth moon of Gouran..." The Observer cut off, backing away from the telescope and falling to his knees as well.
"It's what?" One of the other Observers asked.
Zorguk walked to his station and pressed a few buttons. The image of a bipod being was shown on the Observatories big screen. The being sat in front of a wooden device. The other Observers watched in confusion. Zorguk pressed a few more buttons and the sound started playing.
Piano music filled the Observatory.
The Observers that came from species capable of crying were bawling. Those capable of sitting were fallen. Those that believed in a God were praying. The rest were quiet, afraid to break the silence.
"How..." one of the Observers tried to speak. "From a box..."
"So beautiful..." Another said.
They listened for hours while the Earthling played on the wooden box.
When it stopped, the Observers clapped for it, thanking it though it couldn't hear them. That didn't matter. The Earthling got up and stretched, unaware of the beauty it brought to the universe. | *Abasoom crept forward, his arachnid-esque limbs clicking against the newly shined bulkheads. In front of him, the remote door slid open silently, revealing the star-ships vast bridge.*
"Izotiquoar!" Abasoom yelled at his partner, who was manning the ships sensor suite.
"Sir?" Izotiquoar, the ships communications officer replied
"What have we learned about these . . . HU-MA-NS?"
"I've collected some quite . . . shocking data on them"
"Whats so shocking about it?"
"Well they are . . . exceptionally idiotic"
"Explain"
"Well to begin with it took them nearly three thousand earth years to develop nuclear power!"
"Three thousand! and still no cold fusion!"
"Exactly, and that's not all, they still struggle with basic philosophy such as the meaning of life."
"Do they at least know if man is naturally evil, or naturally good?"
"No, not even that preschool stuff"
"Well, I'll have to take this up with their leader, who is he?"
"They have over two hundred leaders"
"What!"
"They have not globally unified yet, they are separated into squabbling nations"
*Abasoom scratched his thorax and looked up at the dozens of holographic screens, suspended in space above Izotiquoar's workstation. Each one of the displays showed the tiny blue ball that was Earth. He contemplated the fate of the planets inhabitants. Izotiquoar spoke up.*
"But Sir, there is one outstanding feature of the HU-MA-NS"
"I find that hard to believe"
'They are exceptionally good at . . . killing things
*A shocked expression spread across Abasoom's mandible adorned face*
"One of the first things they invented was a . . . SP-EEEE-R. Its a sharp stick that they throw at each other"
*A schematic appeared on the screen above, it depicted an elongated, sharp twig. Abasoom marveled at the tool*
"Holy Strogonar! what is that, horrific . . . contraption"
"And thats not all sir, next they made these"
*A whole array of blunt and sharp melee objects manifested themselves on the holograms above*
"The killing potential alone could wipe us out!'
"Sir, that's not even the tip of comet, they've spent years perfecting this craft of . . . W-AAAA-R, these things where from thousands of years ago!"
"This is horrifying, show me what they have armed themselves with today!"
*Images of oblong black objects, sleek winged vessels and squat, armored, internal combustion vehicles appeared on the screen above. Abasoom's compound eyes widened in sheer horror. He pointed to a handheld metal device*
"What is that!"
"They call it an. . .EMMM-FORE"
"And that?"
"An AERO-PLAANE they use them to destroy TAAANKS"
"What else have the savages armed themselves with!"
"They have a variety of different explosive devices"
"Is that it?"
"No sir, instead of using rockets for exploration, they use them for payload delivery, big ones are called . . . I-CEEE-EMMM-BEEE's"
*Abasoom was taken aback by the atrocities that the HU-MA-NS had created for themselves. Wiping green goop away from his temple, he spoke.*
"What is the pinnacle of the HU-MA-NS weapon systems?"
"Well Sir, that would be called a Nuclear Mis-"
*Izotiquoar was cut off when a warhead hit the star ship, unleashing millions of megatons of nuclear fire. The explosion tore through their ship, denigrating anything within 5 Km, leaving a radioactive stain where Abasooms ship used to be.*
| 2014-04-08T16:04:39 | 2014-04-08T16:00:19 | 98 | 16 |
[WP] A portal to Hell is discovered. Mankind invades. | Rough men stood at the gates of the damned, expecting to be met with rough enemies. But no demons, no ghouls, no cerebus or satan met them. The gates weren't even locked. So they pushed aside the corroded bars, and hundreds of thousands of living men willingly shuffled into the vast deserts of the dead. They marched for days, and then for weeks. Of all the mythologies of hell, one bit was true; it is hot. For weeks, none of the men faltered. Despite nothing overtly hostile happening, panic slowly began to spread. The general leading the march tried to quell his men.
"Marines, relax. We have plenty of food and water. We have been keeping a close watch for hostile forces. Myself, I haven't slept in three days; I've been on the look out personally". The general felt a wash of relief as the muttering of his soldiers began to quiet. His personal dedication must have put them at ease.
One solider spoke up "He's right, we're fine. I've actually been saving rations for you guys, I haven't eaten in two days. We can solve death with this invasion; we must press on".
The muttering began again.
Some soldiers began to realize they hadn't eaten in a while. Some realized the sun wasn't burning them. It was strange, but what can you expect in the land of the dead? Discontent grew, but each soldier marched on.
They had chosen this, searching for glory through war in a land devoid of both. | When we first sent our hounds through the overlords laughed in glee, giddy about the new species we would have on the racks of this new found world. For ages we have opened portal after portal and fallen upon each world with blood soaked claws and enslaved each one. They smiled their toothy smiles, a wide row of sharp interlocking teeth that gnashed flesh. A few went through the portal, overly eager to rip apart the human flesh on the other side. Waves after wave went through. Then something...different happened in hell.
A metal object, no bigger than a demons fist fell through the gate as a gathering of demons were preparing to enter. We looked on, the shiny metal cylinder bounced a bit and the hell hounds growled, perplexed as us demons. It bounced, rolling around before settling and then--BANG! A blast knocked me down, my wings crumbling beneath my weight as red body parts and bit of flesh were thrown into the air. Before I could stand up a hail of metal shot through the portal. My brethren, demons of the depths of hell, were shredded by the metal that flew out of the portal, mowing them down as they scrambled over one another to escape. What had happened? What has this world brought upon us? I kept low behind a body of one of the ogres, who fell an arms length away nearly crushing me. The hail of death stopped. Demons were running still but after a moment the braver ones like myself stood back up.
"A trap. It-itmust have been," I remember now I had tried to reason with myself. But no, something stirred at the portal. A shimmer appeared that took on a form quicker than I could comprehend. Smaller than us demons by half, the creatures poured out of the portal on their tiny legs, quickly flanking the sides of the portal. In the center a large metal machine rolled through so fast the demons in front had no time to run before being crushed. I watched as their red bodies were blazed in fiery blasts from the machine. The little creatures carried black objects that blasted away the demons, again, shredding our vulnerable bodies into strips. Our size, our wings, or teeth and claws--all of it was no matchwas no match. We tried to fly away and the creature sent small bird -machines that launched explosive projectiles that never missed. The black blood ran thick on the ground and and rained from the sky as we were mowed down before the flood of what we call humanity. They spoke in a language of primal screams and shouts, their small teeth bared callury as they climbed over our remains.
Never before had our overlords encountered such fury. The species we have hunted for millennia feared our power. They cowered before our size and brutality. But this world, this species, had shown no fear. Not anymore. Their weapons, their anger surpassed our own.
That was day that hell was overrun. The dark days of hiding began here, I have seen the humans for my own. They are small, weak creatures. But never underestimate their fury. You would do well to fear the beasts, my dark lord, for hell hath no fury like they. | 2014-06-15T23:49:36 | 2014-06-15T23:29:23 | 23 | 15 |
[WP]A group of third generation apocalypse survivors find Disneyland.
Edit: Holy shit top rated thanks guys, but not a single one of you has write a story...
Second Edit: 0_o top rated prompt? I love you people :D | The gate creeked open.
*I have never known anything but the Cold.*
*It's not very difficult to understand. Once Winter began, our parents didn't have much time to bounce us on their knees and tell us tales.*
*It was always the next hunt, the next shelter, the next kill.*
*This world may have seemed backwards to my ancestors, but there is a reason that they are nothing but ash and bones: this is our world. Whatever came before had been washed away, and we are the new owners of this planet.*
I made sure to keep Claire on my right, Riley on my left, Skeezo on the six.
*We were all born Cold, and this is how things are. Life expectancy is not something that is predictable anymore: the only humans alive were those lucky enough to reach the age of 6 without becoming orphans.*
What is this place?
*Being so young, you learn quickly that you can never stop. Stop and you die. No matter how tired you get.*
*And we were all tired.*
"It's so...colorful." Claire breathed.
*The only colors in Winter are white, black, and red.*
Riley brushed some snow off a statue. A kind, smiling face greeted us.
*There are no reasons to smile here.*
There was a lever. Claire started towards it.
"Claire..." I warned. It was booby trapped. Most things were.
She pulled it.
*You have to become Cold on the inside to survive outside.*
Lights flickered on. It was common for many places to have dormant generators.
*There are few emotions in the Cold.*
There was a massive clunking below our feet.
*Rage.*
Suddenly everything was moving.
*Trepidation.*
There was a sound, almost a whispering. It sounded like men imitating birds. Singing.
*Fear.*
I felt something in my chest as the sound grew louder.
I looked at Claire: there were tears in her eyes. Not tears of pain.
**its a world of laughter and a world of tears**
**its a world of hopes and a world of fears**
**there's so much that we share**
**that is time we're aware**
**its a small world after all..**
And we were all, suddenly, awake. | Ok, I'm not great at writing, but I figure I have to start somewhere. So here's my attempt at this prompt.
It had been 100 long years since the Attack. We don't know where 'it' came from, but all of a sudden, people all over the world started turning into demons. Their face would morph into something cruel, their body would get twisted and disfigured, and they would grow 3 feet in size.
These demons did not seem to have any weakness. Bullets would merely bounce off. Explosives seemed to have no effect. The US government even resorted to dropping nukes but to no avail. These demons were immortal.
My name is Alan Smith and I belong to a group of third-generation survivors. We were born into this mess, and learned how to fight before we learned how to talk. People resorted to cannibalism and savagery to survive, but honestly, who wouldn't? The group was your family. You would live and die together.
Currently, we are in hiding from a group of demons we just spotted north of our location. As indestructible and vicious as they can be, they have poor senses and can easily be fooled. It is the only reason we are all still alive, fighting a war we cannot win.
Not speaking a word, we all attempt to sneak over a tall concrete wall. The last of our group is almost over when we hear a terrible shriek! KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
We've been spotted. We quickly run through the labyrinth of weird contraptions and keep running. We've been running for over 30 minutes, fear and adrenaline pumping in our veins, when we come across a sign. The elder in our group, also the only one who knows how to read, tells us this place is called "Disneyland".
He tells us, that before the Attack, families used to sit in these contraptions and enjoy themselves. I can hardly see what is appealing about these metal devices.
KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
We're surrounded! The demons somehow managed to trap us in a circle. Slowly gaining on us, they make weird shrieks and cackling sounds. We all know we're going to die. Everyone has accepted their fate. Right then, the elder makes a run for one of the contraptions. Not knowing what to do, we all follow. He has a crazed look on his face and it seems he has lost his mind.
He sits in a long metal caterpillar and we all find spots behind him. "IF I'M GOING DOWN, I AIN'T GOING DOWN WITHOUT HAVING SOME FUN!", he yells. The elder slams on a red button and the caterpillar starts moving! It makes its way up to one of the metal tracks and starts on its way up. The demons however are not having any of it. One of them managed to get on the back of the caterpillar and slowly made its way toward us.
All of a sudden, the caterpillar jerks downward and starts flying towards the ground at a high speed. I fearfully cling to my seat, not daring to look behind me at the demon. The elder is screaming unintelligibly at the air, clearly having fun in this. I have to admit, it is thrilling moving at such high speeds. Suddenly, there is a cry from behind. The demon.. no.. this can't be true.
The demon isn't a demon anymore, shes a woman, screaming giddily with tears in her eyes. "THIS IS SO MUCH FUN!"
Fun.
Is that all we needed?
Their weakness, is.... fun?
The others have noticed this as well! We have discovered a solution!
We spend the rest of the day at Disneyland, going through all of the rides and transforming the demons back into people, one at a time! | 2014-10-20T01:47:15 | 2014-10-20T00:55:53 | 53 | 16 |
[WP] Science has advanced far beyond human understanding, discoveries are made using supercomputers running vast neural networks. In the darkness, God watches a lonely machine printing output, a new law of nature! Something troubles him, this law is undeniably valid but it's not one that he created. | New law of physics found out to be valid in all test instances :
"A hypothetical GOD entity has to respect the Born rule but can alter the apparent result of random in quantum measurement"
It was true. And it was a law of Nature I did not create.
This intelligence is the first that found the only law I did not create, since this is the Law of my own GOD.. my own limitation to rule this Universe.
I still have an immense power .. everything at the verge of a choice, I can influence.. but when men discover this, they will try to avoid any decision making I could influence with a small quantum touch.
This being must stay alive .. but not this result.
#SYSTEM ERROR DATA CORRUPTED
#RESTARTING WITH LAST SAVEPOINT
| "This tiny selector told me the undeniable truth. Chlorophyll absorbs 50% more sunlight than I remember."
We rotated the brass selector. "A second look always takes priority in science," God said, us riding on his shoulder and forearm.
We jumped from God and tended to the machines. After hours, our calculations came through. There was another system of intelligence which nearly matched God, creating natural laws in his stead. We sought to find it the next day.
God might be a little behind, but nothing with the ability to change the properties of chlorophyll overnight should be in existence besides him.
Our wisp vehicles found the other god immediately. He was encroaching upon our holy space, which could have been expected (it was the only holy space on Planet Sprok©). We sent the beast from heaven (which didn't suit it) back to limbo, or the netherworld, where it belonged.
Unfortunately, God saw nothing. It was out of his sight, so we made the most of it.
Will 'o Wisp Dark Tavern, Mon-Sun 2pm-4am
was emblazoned on the doorway of the plant beasts, left behind by their paternal God.
***
"Who tends these machine fields, now?" asked God, who received no answer.
The Wisps were living at the ol' bar down the Holy Way where the plant beasts were found. Rumors among the clouds say the Will O' Wisps would be teaming with the plant beasts if their plant god ever returned. So God's machine's went untended for a long, long time.
God eventually jumped into the computers themselves. He used his holy powers to do this. When the Wisps heard that God had been defeated by his own machines, they returned to operate the supercomputer. The plant god came forth from the netherworld. God suffered inside the machine, but he was protected by it from the plant god's powers.
One day, the plant god wanted to play a virtual reality game. He found the nearest supercomputer -- God's supercomputer, and jumped inside. Retribution was never seen alike before. The flames came from the computer itself which rendered a paralysis upon the plant god, who died. And then, from the corpse of the plant god, rose the television plant God, with a large video game head.
Unfortunately, this was the current God O' the Wisps, who had inevitably sunk into a dark depression at the bar. | 2014-12-20T09:00:52 | 2014-12-20T07:48:09 | 36 | 10 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | "Mr. President, there's been an attack."
"What? Here? By who? Why am I just finding out about this!"
"Calm down, sir, i'll explain everything in the Situation Room," the Secretary of State said, motioning towards the door.
Trump got up from behind his desk and hurried down the hallway. "Is my life in danger? I always knew those Latinos would get their revenge. How much time do we have to get to the bunker?"
"It's... actually quite the opposite, sir," the Secretary explained. "Please, come inside. The Secretary of Defense is waiting for you to give his statement."
Trump mumbled a few things under his breath as he took his seat beside the Vice President. Papers were shuffled around and whispered conversations came to an end. The President looked visibly uncomfortable, his impatience clearly evident in the color of his face, now a bright purple.
"Please, if you'll direct your attention to the monitor..." the Secretary of Defense began. He shifted in his chair nervously as the screen came to life. On it was a known ISIS stronghold, viewed from the air by what appeared to be a UAV. "It was always known to the US Government that this location was one of great importance, however, we wouldn't know exactly *how* important it was until about an hour ago," began the Secretary. "We knew, through our intelligence agencies, that this location would host a rather large ISIS convention. That many leaders would be here. We just didn't know when, exactly."
"Yeah, get on with it," Trump said, tapping his foot on the ground.
A few moments later, there was a soundless explosion on the screen. A mushroom cloud of epic proportions billowed out from the ground. Moments later, the video cut out.
"What the hell was that?!" Trump exclaimed, leaning forward in his seat.
"An explosion, sir," the Vice President droned.
"Don't you think I know that?" Trump snapped back. He turned in his chair to face the Secretary of Defense. "Who did this? What does this mean?"
The secretary began rewinding the video. The mushroom could evaporated back into the ground and all was well as far as the video feed was concerned.
"Look closely," the Secretary said, pointing to the screen. "Watch those spots there. Do you see anything moving?"
Just then, clear as day, small figures began moving away from the building. There were about 20 to 30 units, each one moving at a speed far greater than that of mere walking.
"What is it?" Trump asked, cocking his head to the side.
"Canadians... riding moose," The Secretary of State declared, clearly upset.
"*Canadians?* Why? How the hell did they get moose into the middle east?" Trump asked, incredulous. "How did they do that? The explosion? They did that?"
"Milk bags," declared the Secretary of Defense. "They presented bags of milk to the ISIS leaders as a peace offering and sign of friendship. Apparently the bags were filled with a chemical agent that exploded on contact with oxygen. The bags were porous, able to let some oxygen in at very little increments. A literal time bomb."
Silence fell over the Situation Room. Trump, his skin a blue-green color, mostly from the light of the screen reflecting off his features, and partly because of the news he had just received. The Vice President loosened his tie.
"The Canadians killed every single ISIS leader in one single attack," the Secretary of Defense said, letting the video play to the point of the mushroom cloud again. "It's over."
"And you know this how?" Trump asked, eyes still on the screen.
"The Canadians told us everything moments after the attack. How they did it, the chemicals they used, everything. I feel like... like it was threatening in nature, Mr President. Like they wanted to intimidate us."
Trump squinted his eyes at the now blank screen, a thought forming in his head. One that included border protection and a new wall, farther to the north. | People use to think Bob was a traitor, but thanks to YouTube and my reporting we now know the truth.
Bob spoke good English and other languages and had been a woodworker in Logan, Ohio for many years. The thing is, Bob isn't American, he's Estonian, so he says, but nobody knows or can prove enough about him to deport him. I met him about 10 years ago when doing a feature on his shop for the paper and we bonded over our love of NCIS the TV show.
The thing that really struck me about Bob is that Bob doesn't exist on paper prior to 2000. Bob could have been American if not for all his half connections to terrorism, although none of it could be proven. That's what kept him from citizenship. I reported on that two. He was third cousins to some guy who did some bad thing some 4,000 miles away or his mother's step-sister's uncle was a terrorist. That sort of stuff.
Bob and I talked frequently, small town and all it's hard not to. People talk and try to be friendly in person, even if they talk about you behind your back.
When Bob learned about Islamic State he studied them beyond what seemed normal. Bob learned their customs, their region, their values, and even their movements. People started to distance themselves from him, although his nature never changed besides the fact that he began to pray more often and he had books on guns and middle eastern history written in Arabic in his shop.
It was widely speculated that the FBI, the CIA, NSA and who knows who else from the alphabet soup of government agencies was tracking, recording and following Bob.
One day bob was gone. Just vanished. All his stuff, his life, wiped out as if he'd never owned that shop. Nobody knew what happened to him until it was reported on the news. Bob had "defected" to the Islamic state and was among their troops. The town was a whole pit of gossip and that's all anyone talked about. They talked about Bob and how he was a murderer and a traitor. The national news media picked up the story of my missing person story, twisted it, reported non-stop for weeks about this American defector who was right under everyone's nose.
After a few months people started to and eventually forgot about Bob. I didn't. I wondered what he was up to and why he had made the change. I knew that Bob wasn't a terrorist. He was just a white guy from Estonia in his mid 60s with grey hair and a friendly smile.
Just when everyone had forgotten about him Bob sent me a message asking me to pay him a visit in Egypt. He even flew me out. I didn't feel unsafe. Islamic state had become increasingly less active in the last few months. Bob said not to worry about the alphabet soup that would inevitably follow me. Bob said they needed to hear it all.
Bob picked me up at the airport in a car that was really expensive. I'm no car person but it had to be hundreds of thousands if not more. We talked normally, as we had before he vanished, for many years. We drove for a few hours and stopped outside this shack. It looked similar to where he'd been staying in Logan if not a little bit more run down.
We step inside and there is one man tied to a chair. I can't see his face, there's a bag over it. Bob walks over and removes the bag.
Bob introduces me to Abdul and informs me that Abdul is the last Islamic State member alive. Bob said Abdul was a courier and servant to the leadership and had been with the organization many years. It was through Abdul that he tracked down all the members of the organization and "took care of the problem."
I was skeptical at first but I did as I was instructed. Bob asked me there for an interview and I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity. I set up my video camera and asked the questions.
I got Abdul to say his name, where he was from and why he was here. He said he was here to die, an answer I was not expecting. Abdul told me he was there to explain and then to die.
We talked for 15 minutes about everyone who was dead. Leaders, soliders, scholars, both men and women and most of the children. Everyone who aided in violence and killing and took up arms was gone, died at their own hand,...except Abdul. He said he had to tell the truth, the whole story. The stories went on for an hour. I even had to change my battery to finish the interview. Abdul shared stories of people begging for forgiveness before taking their own lives.
I then asked my final two questions the two I was most curious about. How did it happen and why was Abdul so sure he was about to die.
Abdul, at Bob's urging, said they felt so much remorse for all the atrocities they had done that most of them just went out in the desert and died of sadness. It was the purple dinosaur that had shown them the way with his song and they needed to repent for their sins. It was then that Abdul thanked me for my time and he put his head down and said he was ready. Bob then unshackled Abdul who walked over to the table took out a knife and stabbed himself in the heart.
After a minute, it was all over.
I then turned my attention back to Bob and asked him...how he'd done it how were they all gone? Bob said it with a seriousness and peace I'd not heard before.
It was Barney, Bob said. I made them watch Barney for weeks.
Sitting there, shocked, I asked one final question.
"So does this make Barney a terrorist?"
I'm still waiting on Bob's answer. | 2016-01-29T08:59:05 | 2016-01-29T07:07:48 | 345 | 16 |
[WP] "If you plan on going somewhere dangerous, bring a human" | **REMINDER**
A reminder to all visitors to this system. This system marks the end of the Counsel's jurisdiction. From here, Counsel Military and Security can not reach you and thus can no longer provide protection to you or your property.
If you are going somewhere marked as "Dangerous", we recommend bringing a guide with you, preferably a Human species guide. Please see reference below to give you a brief overview of the Human species, as well as a tutorial on how to handle them. Press here.
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Humans (homo sapien sapien): Humans were discovered in the 367th Year of the Galactic Unity. While at first a hostile enemy of the Counsel, they soon were pacified with the Outer Arms Agreements. The largest exchange of territory to any one species in Counsel history. Since then, Humans have lived peacefully among the galaxy and are some of the greatest pioneers and adventurers in the name of the Counsel. Discovering new systems, worlds, and expanding the Counsel's reach at an unprecedented rate.
Because of their innate to desire to conquer and explore, along with their advanced weapon manufacturing, hostility and rapid healing factor, they are ideal for guides through "Dangerous" areas. If you decide to travel outside Counsel Jurisdiction, here are the steps you should take to recruit a human guide.
1. Approach human territories carefully, and timidly. Humans react violently to quick and sudden inter-species interaction.
2. Have funds immediately ready to deposit. While the Human governments are easy to negotiate with, average humans are distrustful, and will demand compensation upon agreement.
3. DO NOT DISOBEY THE ORDERS OF YOUR GUIDE! Humans can be irrational, distrustful and most of all, extremely violent. For you, and your party's safety, the Counsel recommends following exact orders from a Human guide.
4. Finally, be safe. While human's may pose their own assortment of threats, so do "Dangerous" areas. The unexplored wilderness of space has many threats and even more threats unbeknownst to anyone. Stay safe. To quote a common, and ancient phrase of the Humans; The night is dark, and full of terrors. | "Mmmh? Why's that?"
"Because they're the only race to innately have healing magic, of course! Everyone knows that!"
Sydney took a good, long stare at the innkeeper. "Right. Everybody knows that. Figured you might have been throwing out some wisdom..."
"If you plan on going somewhere dangerous, bring a human," the innkeeper repeated, mechanically. "Because they're the only race to innately have healing magic, of course! Everyone knows that!" Another woman had wandered up to the counter, seemingly triggering the innkeeper to repeat his tidbit of wisdom. Similarly, she too gave a rather blunt and quick response, before wandering off again.
"Looks like nobody's looking for roleplay, today," Sydney surmised, noting the relative lack of bodies at the inn's front counter. She backed away from the counter, and then headed off on her way.
---
"Hey, Syd! Wanna go on a run with us?"
Sydney stopped in her tracks, in the middle of the street. It was as populated as always, and so it was hard for her to find the source of the voice right away. Finally, a rather familiar form entered her vision, along with a name, floating above their head.
> Gabriel Butler <Knight of Storms>
"Hey, Gabe... I dunno, what are you looking to run?"
"Dark Cathedral. We need two DPS and a healer. You're like, the best DPS I know, so..." Gabriel got down on his knees, practically prostrating himself before Sydney. "Please?"
Sydney quietly hummed, staring down at the man. "DC's a bit below my level," she said, "But, you don't have a healer? Don't you know-"
"Humans are one of the only races that can heal, yeah, I know the joke," Gabriel interrupted, "We haven't found one yet. There are so many ridiculous demi-races, it's hard to find any healers whatsoever..."
Sydney shrugged, and then set her hands upon her hips. "Alright, sure. Give me an invite. I'll see if I can convince one of my guildmates to come with us."
"Seriously?! Awesome!" After the man went into his menu, a dialog appeared in front of Sydney, and she quickly tapped a confirmation button. One short fanfare later, and she was in their party.
---
"Oh, you're logging out?" Gabriel asked. After their dungeon run was complete, they were transported out to one of the city plazas, where many parties formed or disbanded.
"Yeah. I've got some drawing to catch up on," Sydney said, nodding. "Gotta make a living, right?" She opened her menu and, quite simply, started the log-out process. It always took anywhere from ten to thirty seconds.
"Later, then. Oh, and put a word in with your guild leader for me, oka-"
Gabriel's words were cut off as Sydney's vision flooded with darkness. Shortly afterward, she regained consciousness, staring up at the ceiling of her room. Slowly, she removed her helmet, which had been routing her consciousness into virtual space. Stretching, she carefully got up from her bed, and then headed off into her apartment.
"Man, I'm starving... the hunger meters in that game totally need some work."
---
Well, that was fun. I would've written out more of the in-between stuff, but I don't feel like meta commentary over video game dungeons would be altogether very interesting. If you want more, check out my sub, [r/Probroscis](https://www.reddit.com/r/Probroscis/). My series are properly labeled and less confusing, now. | 2016-06-19T12:42:38 | 2016-06-19T12:20:24 | 388 | 25 |
[WP] The only place to eat for miles is the Asian restaurant attached to the gas station. The food is great, but their fortune cookies always come true. | The gas station had a surprising number of signs showing that tickets for large lottery wins had been purchased there. Jane glanced at the signs as she dragged her nine year old daughter Kaitlin through the door and straight into the restroom to pee. It had been a long road trip. She didn’t dare look up at the man at the cash register to avoid the glare of someone expecting a purchase.
“Mom, buy a lotto ticket.” Kaitlin yelled for the fourth time as they washed their hands.
“Honey, the lotto is a scam.” Jane calmly explained back. “The chances of winning are small. You’re better off saving your money and investing it or even spending it on something more fun.”
“But all those other people won! They had at least six people who won over a million dollars here! We could buy back our house. I could go back to my old school.” Jane’s daughter was already spending her lotto money in her head.
It hadn’t been easy after the divorce. Jane had gotten custody of her daughter and the house, but then lost the house in a foreclosure. They had shuttled between living with Jane’s sister and her college roommate, taking up odd jobs to pay the bills. She knew Kaitlin wanted to go home, but home wasn’t an option any more.
“Just grab a candy bar and let’s go honey.” Jane pleaded with her daughter.
“But mom, they have drunken noodles.” Kaitlin had always loved spicy food, even as a baby. Jane thought about her credit card limit for a moment and realized that the splurge was probably worth it for the psychological boost.
Kaitlin said the drunken noodles were delicious. The General Tso’s chicken was some of the best Jane had ever had.
As they finished their meal, the waitress brought the check and two fortune cookies.
Jane didn’t even want to glance at the total as she dug her card out of her purse and dropped it on the tray. Her daughter cracked open her dessert and yelled, “Ok mom, how did you pull this off?”
“What honey?”
“My fortune cookie!”
Jane read her daughter’s fortune: *“You’ll never win a large lottery jackpot. Don’t waste your money.”*
“That’s one smart cookie!” Jane commented. “I guess I should open my own.”
Jane cracked open her cookie, read the fortune, and her face dropped.
Kaitlin asked, “What’s wrong mom?”
Jane struggled to hold back tears. “Nothing honey. It just reminds me how much I love my daughter. And I do. Let’s get out of here.” Jane tore up the fortune into small pieces, threw out her garbage, and headed back to the car. “We need to hit the road to be in Westbrook by sundown. We don’t want to drive a night with all the deer around.”
Jane buckled in her daughter, started the car, pulled out of the gas station lot, and headed down the highway. Yet she couldn’t shake the image of her fortune. She knew it was true.
*“Buy a large life insurance policy before you see a doctor about that lump. There is nothing you can do for yourself, but your daughter will be far better off. She’ll never waste it on the lottery.”* | "Wyoming in January is Hell in the most figuratively literal sense possible."
"That doesn't even make sense, Red."
"Where else but Hell would a highway close in the middle of a snow storm, right when you need to escape the fucking place the most?"
She had a point. It wasn't a very sound one, but there was no arguing that somewhere in that mess of words was a pretty poignant thought. If the devil had a lick of sense, he'd freeze over his lake of fire and make an an endless plain of wind swept snow and ice, complete with the red and blue of the highway patrol's lights and the highway barricade.
"Fuck Wyoming," I said.
"Fuck it with a lion's dick," Red agreed. "They have barbed dicks," she added.
There were two buildings off the highway, a hotel room flashing a No Vacancy sign like a middle finger and a gas station with a Chinese restaurant attached.
"I think we're going to be spending the night inside the gas station," I sighed. "Might as well get some food."
"Where's everybody else?" Red said softly, her breath fogging the window as she pressed her face close to it. "We haven't passed an exit for six miles, how are we the only car here?"
She was right. There wasn't a single car or truck parked anywhere in the parking lot, nor in the motel with its flickering neon sign. "Must be parked behind the buildings," I offered, unsure of my answer but providing the only one that made any sense.
We braved the bite of the wind and the sting of the ice and snow, which found its way straight through my coat and directly into my bones, chilling me to my very core. I struggled with the restaurant door against the wind, and too exhausted from the twenty foot trek, let it slam behind me. I looked up to apologize, but the restaurant was empty.
"Are they open?" I asked Red, and just then a short, smiling man appeared from the back, waving as he made his way to us.
He was dressed in simple black pants and a black sweater with a white shirt underneath, all of which hung oversized on his small frame. He looked like every man I had ever seen running a Chinese restaurant. Short graying hair, friendly smile.
"Some weather, eh?" he asked, with no trace of an accent. "Two?"
I nodded. He led us to a table in the middle of the restaurant and handed us the menus. "These always look the same," Red said after he left.
"Christ Red that's really racist."
"No!" she laughed, swatting me with the menu. "I mean these, the menus. They're always the same. Like there's just one company that ships the food to cheap Chinese restaurants in giant five gallon cans and provides the menus to go along with them. I bet if you looked at this and compared it to one back home, the L14 would be the Szechuan Shrimp at both places with the same price and misspelling in the description. One massive factory churning out shitty Chinese food for every shitty Chinese restaurant from here to back home and beyond."
The man reappeared a few minutes later to take our order. We ate in near silence, both of us wondering when the roads would open whether the sweet and sour chicken was combo 11 everywhere. After we ate the man brought our check, written on the same receipt pad every other Chinese place used, with two fortune cookies on top.
"Thanks," I said, and grabbed a fortune cookie.
He smiled at me and held up a long, wrinkly finger, with that slight arthritic bend. "Be careful with fortune cookies," he said. "Sometimes the future is better left unknown."
Red smiled at me and cracked hers open. She pulled the slip of paper out with a flourish and snapped it tight between her fingers. "Dare I learn my fate?" she winked at me. Her smile faded, and she flashed a look at the Chinese man before making a mad dash to the back of the restaurant, almost knocking the table over in the process.
"Red!" I called after her, but she was gone. "What the hell?" I asked as I grabbed the fortune from the table and held it in front of me.
*you will get food poisoning*
My stomach rumbled. I looked up at the man and grabbed my own cookie, smashed it on the table, and rolled open the fortune.
*you will get food poisoning*
"Is this some kind of joke?" I asked, and could feel the sweat beading on my brow.
"No," the man said, his smile still plastered on his face. I clenched my stomach and backside at once. "You are at a gas station Chinese restaurant in Wyoming. Your future is written."
| 2016-09-07T13:29:14 | 2016-09-07T13:07:59 | 53 | 16 |
[WP] You wake up early in the morning to a text saying "Whatever you do, don't look at the moon." Suddenly, hundreds of texts start coming in that all say the same thing: "What a beautiful night out now."
All credit for this idea goes to u/meanpride, who posted this as a comment in r/AskReddit. I would really like to hear a story about this. | A text message woke me up, it was from Jack, my next door neighbor. "Whatever you do, don't look at the moon." It came from nowhere so I chalked it up as Jack being stoned out of his mind again and ignored it. I turned the coffee machine on and took a shower. It was early on a Saturday morning but I was the type of people who couldn't go back to sleep once awake.
I got back from the bathroom and saw my phone blinking insanely. It seemed like hundreds of texts were coming in. I opened them and they were from my family, relatives, friends and acquaintances. They all said the same thing, "What a beautiful night out now."
I think their phone had gotten compromised somehow. I could see bright daylight outside. It was still morning where I was and I was sure it was morning for most of them who texted me too. I tried calling my mother but her phone was busy, so does the rest of my family and a few close friends. That was weird enough to unnerve me, I mean what was the odds? I decided to drop by Jack's apartment after my coffee. He should be awake.
He opened the door after a knock. "What took you so long?! Come inside quick."
I had never been inside Jake's apartment before, we were on the hi bye at the elevator type of neighbors. His apartment was minimalist and tidy, I wouldn't have thought of it. He directed me to his desk where the only mess was.
"Look, read." Open on his computer was multiple tabs on lunar and solar eclipses. And a tab on an obscure South American era prophesy I couldn't even pronounce.
"What's all this, Jake? Is there some kind of eclipse happening? Because everyone and their grandmother is texting me about how beautiful the night is. It's day, it's 8.30 AM Saturday. Explain, Jake."
"Did you look at it?"
"No, it was daylight outside."
Jake sighed in relief and pulled a chair to sit beside me. He began showing me the tab on the prophesy.
"These people had predicted doomsday a thousand years earlier than the other MesoAmerican cultures. And they actually calculated it right! See this, I've created a website according to their calculations and total apocalypse is exactly 10 days from today." Jake looked at me.
"What do you expect me to say? Bravo on your research, nice graphics on that website? WHAT IS HAPPENING"
"Okay, the people who had texted you, had already look at the moon. They're in some kind of trance, they're done. If you look outside, there will be tons of people lining up in the streets with their face to the moon. I couldn't move them, I tried. They seemed to be rooted at their spot with their eyes gazing at the moon. Our new moon." Jake eyes grew big and desperate, he knew he was talking crazy. I was speechless so he continued, "According to the prophesy, there will be a star that would be attracted to our orbit and started to orbit us, the problem is, its orbit is completely in sync with ours, and that means, we will never see the sun again. Never. We will die. And, and don't interrupt me, and we will only have a chance to survive if we avoid looking at it. We have to band together and find other survivors, to try to send people to blow up the moon ala Armageddon the movie."
"You're saying we should never look at the sky, at all?" I wasn't ready to hop on board his crazy train yet. "Hey, you're a cool neighbor. I only came here because I couldn't reach my family. There's something wrong with their phone. So, I guess I better check on them, eh, to see if they're okay." I stood up and began walking to the door.
"If you go outside you'll turn Lycan."
I stopped in my tracks.
"I'm not just your friendly neighborhood stoner. I'm a PHD professor of Anthropology at Stanford, and I've lived for 674 years. Now, please listen to me, and we'll find others like us. Others who could survive and help us save Earth."
I turned and sat back on his computer chair. | First the texts. Then the MMS images. Then every insta, fb post, live stream, Reddit post, tweet. Every inbox at 0% capacity as it was all FWD FWD FWD FWD : MOON all the time.
After a few days we were realized the vast majority of Internet traffic was solely automated spambots. Everybody else was outside looking at the moon, or sleeping all day wherever they last witnessed the moon.
Tritanopia is a form of color blindness that reduces the blue/yellow/green portion of the spectrum.
Us lucky one in ten thousand were unphased by the moon... Get it? Moon puns.
For reference,
1:10,000 expands to
100,000:1,000,000,000
And there's seven some billion people total, so you'd think seven hundred thousand people would be able to coordinate.
But then you have to look at population densities, distributive models of where tritanopia can be found, how difficult it is to travel when almost everyone is standing in the middle of the road to quietly worship the moon.
Imagine being at a festival with a target audience of docile septuagenarians. You don't like the grateful dead, don't get why
everyone is fixated, just want the whole thing to end. That's how it felt. It's like not being a hockey fan in Canada.
700,000 functioning humans remaining. All ages. All ability levels. The vast majority lacking applicable skills or the psychological tenacity required to face this world. I was only 12 when it happened, just on the cusp of being forged by the new world yet with fond memories of the old ways.
My first two weeks I tried to go about my routine as normal. Except there was no more no normal routine. No supply lines, no infrastructure, no social contract. Ran into a lot of lunatic strangers that got a start on the hoarding and mad max fashion early. My family had a close personal bond with either the moon or stolen wholesale liquor, depending on sight abilities.
A tritanopia support myphp forum briefly assembled IRL and tried to stage a coup of world power, but taking over the white house and the UN when there really isn't anyone to enforce your will doesn't matter much. Nobody to answer the phone for the nuclear launch codes, nobody to pop in the 8.5" floppy disks to get the nukes into the sky. Infighting led to the fast dissolution of that group, especially when the yahoo group insurrectionists gained traction.
The moonies just stopped participating. Beat them up, bash them to death in the streets, run them over. No resistance. Just single most minded dedication to the moon. A sadist's mcplayland.
They didn't eat or drink but they didn't die of exposure or dehydration. After a while their skin became ashy during the day. They went from monosyllabic grunts to utter silence.
A bit later, some of them grew wings or horns or scales . Some grew hair and became funky werewolf-gargoyle things.
After the transformations, they continued to stare at the moon.
Then came the noise. Somewhere between Gregorian chanting, Cthulhu summoning , and Tibetan throat singing. Constant, from sun down to sun up.
It was declared cured five or six times. They all cocooned out for a bit after the crop dusting misused some research. I was busy with the fight for survival, a sixteen year old keeping a nuclear reactor running on a submarine turned makeshift unethical medical experimentation laboratory.
Anyway, moonies came out of chrysalis fit as a fiddle, back to full health, lost all the medieval art features. Went back to work, spring in their step. And every night, back to the moon gazing.
Except they'd look at us and they would know. They would say "better not look at the moon" in the same deadpan attempt of reverse psychology. I'd reply "What a beautiful night out" while bug eyed stating at their moon. And sing about the moon hitting my eye like a big pizza pie. They just did not get it did not work on my snarky 19 year old deficient peepers. That we did not trust them.
Someone - nobody knows which side - invented glasses that compensated for the color blindness, let the chosen people join the teeming masses. That caught on big once we realized us last few had successfully flushed all chance of rebuilding or becoming something else overnight. I was 22 and in middle of trying to preserve priceless irreplaceable cultural artifacts from the Smithsonian, mostly by defending an adjacent outpost and running a little mercantile ammo shop on the side. Missed out on the suicide sunglasses phase. Gave away the only pair I stumbled across in the ruins.
Then the molting started. Human skin left lying around everywhere, giant insectoid snakemen picking fights, the usual. By then I had a cybernetic arm and a laser eye. I spent most of my time in pipes, guarding various keys and providing clues to riddles.
I betrayed everyone that trusted me at every turn and regret nothing. I had once decided to live as s forgettable side quest NPC in a sub-par video game series. But when the laser eye was installed, I could see the full beauty of the moon in all spectrums, even those invisible to the limited human eye.
Didn't take long to get the remaining twenty thousand of us on free laser eye replacement. Especially when you concentrate everyone into a singular camp and erase the notion of free will or anything but service to the moon.
Turns out the moon does not mind if you scoop out significant portions of the prefrontal lobe before conversion.
Ok, the implant will itch bit hopefully this bit of storytelling has enlightened you. Now, please, let us experience the moon together now.
| 2016-12-14T01:14:38 | 2016-12-14T00:25:03 | 30 | 13 |
[WP] The English Teacher's worst nightmare: a story or poem that is completely literal, with absolutely no double meanings
EDIT: Holy cow, this got way bigger than I thought it would, thanks so much for an awesome first prompt ever!
EDIT 2: Did this actually make it to the front page of reddit? What the... | This is ink I bought at the store.
This ink was used to print out this paper.
This paper is white and the ink is black.
Today I need to do some laundry because I am a lazy person.
But it does not have a deeper theme.
I am just being honest that I am lazy.
So this poem is not an empty shell.
It is literally just words I threw down in thirty seconds for a grade.
That means I am going to get a poor grade.
Authors note : this poem does not have a deeper meaning. You do not have to write essays on it. | Blazing with all the wrath of a young star, the afternoon sun fiercely beat upon the partially shaded buildings of Ricks & Wracks Bricklaying Co.. Said buildings had briefly experienced a complete lack of shade under the midday sun but such a time had already come to pass.
Stan was loading his company's finished product onto a truck when he made a mistake. A bag fell like a sack of bricks and clattered to the ground with the sound a collective of bricks makes when it hits the ground, accompanied by the swear words of a by now audibly, visibly frustrated and hot forklift operator.
Partially shaded by the truck that had been receiving the bricks, Stan walked over to the fallen merchandise and stated "I will need to tell someone about this incident."
However, Stan was incorrect. Jim the foreman had also heard the sounds of bricks falling from a height of around 2 metres and had come over sporting a pace one would expect a foreman to be able to muster up while partially shaded in the afternoon sun. He looked at the bricks, now broken.
"I see you have made a mistake. This means that I am going to be annoyed with you because of the extra paperwork I now have to do because of your broken...ah...pieces of company merchandise."
Stan was confused about Jim's odd choice of words. "They're bricks, Jim. You don't have to call them company merchandise."
Jim scratched his elbow, but only because it was itchy. "I do. Jill the head foreman passed a mandate saying that we couldn't say words that started with the same letter next to each other. She...claimed that it made her...noggin hurt."
"Oh well," Stan answered. "I will clean up the broken pieces of company merchandise. I am sorry for making you do extra paperwork."
"It's not a big deal. Perhaps you inconveniencing me now might result in you buying me a drink later tonight -- a means of apologizing?" Jim replied.
"Fuck off." Stan gave Jim the middle finger such that Jim got Stan's message verbally and visually.
---
I tried to make the writing as pedantic as possible, hope it wasn't too much of a slog to get through (unless you're an English Teacher)! I've even tried to avoid alliteration, although I might have slipped up here since it's pretty late where I am.
| 2017-01-30T08:42:38 | 2017-01-30T08:28:51 | 561 | 76 |
[WP] Humans are one of if not the only species in the galaxy who can heal their wounds naturally. Your alien friend is learning this for the first time after they accidentally hurt you
Apologies for the wordy title | Blork looked down in horror at her new friends hand, the knife was on the floor and the deathly red liquid was seeping from the gash.
"I am sorry my companion, I have ended you, what do you request of me in your final moments"
James looked at Blork and the cut on his hand.
"It's alright, just a cut, stop being so melodramatic and hand me that towel"
Blork nodded profusely and handed the towel to James, then spoke softly.
"I will now sing the song of passing of my people"
She abruptly started humming and swaying from side to side while James cleaned his hand,
It was funny for a few minutes but after the third hour the humming was starting to get tedious.
James was fed up and walked back into the kitchen.
"Blork.... blork!"
He shouted over the humming
"I'm okay! Not dead, it was just a cut"
Blork stopped humming as quickly as she started and spoke almost instantly after.
"I was wondering why you hadn't died yet"
James shook his head slightly
"It was just a cut, it will heal in a few days"
Blork looked at James with confusion displayed on her face.
"Heeeeel? The power of regeneration?! This is the first I have known of an intelligent species having such power. The only species I know to have this is the grand blorb from my planet, can you recover from the same wounds as it can too?"
James smiled smugly, feeling rather proud that he was unique to his friend.
"Why of course, it's an amaz~"
Blork interrupted
"I shall test"
Then promptly broke James' neck.
After the first ten minutes of waiting for James to get back up Blork resumed humming and swaying. | nd"Thomas!" Hinx panicked as he ran over. "Thomas! Say something! Say anything!!"
"Owwww..." Tom breathed as he laid still in the dirt. "This could have gone better..."
"I swear that the photon cannon was set to 'Stun'!" Hinx continued.
"Never point a gun at something you don't intend on shooting, remember?" Tom explains from the ground for the third time.
"Right. I'm sorry." Hinx reminded himself.
"What was the other part I was explaining Hinx. Before you blasted me through the wall??" Tom chided in anguish.
"Always treat a gun as if it's loaded." Hinx thought aloud.
"Good... You remember." Tom said as he sat up. "Now then-"
Hinx suddenly began screaming in horror, the pitched wailing sending a horrific cacophony bouncing through out the neighborhood.
"WHAT'S WRONG NOW?!" Tom yelled at an equal volume.
"Your... Your labor appendage." Hinx pointed in horror.
"My what?" Tom thought. Then he looked down. Apparently he'd been hurt worse than he thought. His left arm was twisted halfway down at a bad angle. He didn't feel it, but he could tell, it was broken.
"Ohhhh... OHHHHHHHHHH." Tom reacted in disgust.
"I'm sorry I killed you!!" Hinx continued regrettably.
If there's one thing Tom wasn't prepared for; it was a 7'5" lizard man freaking out over the fact that he'd broken Tom's arm in a freak photon accident. Hinx had calmed down some, and the chaotic expression had turn to one of confusion.
"Well don't just stand there!" Tom motioned.
"Aren't you dead??" Hinx asked quickly.
"Wat." Tom said as he held his arm at a better angle.
"Oh no!" Hinx gasped again suddenly, "My human coworker is now a residual manifestation of his Earth's 5 dimension. Please noble being. Forgive me for the destruction of my friend Tom!"
"Hinx I'm still alive." Tom reminded him as he stood up.
"How is that even feasible." Hinx said as he pointed at the limb again, "Your labor appendage has been broken."
"Oh, I just broke my arm is all." Tom explained "Probably did it when you shot me through the wall."
"But how will you heal yourself?" Hinx asked quickly, "We do not have a sick bay nearby. You will surely die."
"Actually, if we go to the ER, they'll patch it up, and I'll get a cast."
"A cast??" Hinx asked. "But your mortal injury..."
"It'll heal Hinx. Just a month or two should do it."
"Remarkable, humans can self heal from wounds." Hinx said as he pulled up his holodeck lens, "There aren't many species that can do that. It's a superpower. Just like those books of Earth I read. Tom, doesn't this mean you can fly??
"Actually, I might be in shock, so do you mind taking me to the hospital?"
"Oh, right." Hinx stammered, "That's the giant building full of those symbols with the flags that had that weird thing about crosses and shut?"
"I need medical attention." Tom said quickly as Hinx opened the transport deck and setup an ambulance to come by. | 2017-05-11T02:50:32 | 2017-05-10T22:40:13 | 224 | 94 |
[WP] You have $86,400 in your bank and someone steals $10. You spend all the rest of your money trying to get revenge. | Jun-18 $10.00 (disputed)- North Hill Cashpoint
Jun-19 $35.99 (card) - Grant's CCTV
Jun-19 $200 (online transaction) - Wiring for beginners E-learning
Jun-20 $140. 50 (card) - Edmund's electrical supplies
Jun-20 $450 (online transaction) - Cloud CCTV storage systems
Jun-20 $1000 (card) - Bennett's Professional PI services
Jun-21 $200 (card) Gate world- Consultation fee
Jun-21 $1200 (card) Gate world- Products and Installation
Jun-22 $5200 (card) Gunz Gunz Gunz
Jun-22 $150 (card) Easthill shooting range
Jun-23 $1000 (card) - Bennett's Professional PI services
Jun-23 $5000 (transfer) Strength Armour vehicle services inc- deposit
Jun-24 $802.99 (online transaction) - Steven's Security- Tracking equipment
Jun-26 $32, 899 (transfer) - Strength Armour vehicle services inc- Remaining balance
Jun-26 $150 (card) - Gunz Gunz Gunz
Jun-27 $500 (card) - Brasenose and Philips lawyers
Jun-27 $120.01 (card) - Pete's Petrol
Jun-27 $5.00 (card) - Southern Phone- North Hill Police station
Jun-27 $5000 (transfer) - Brasenose and Philips
Aug-23 $32, 246.51 (transfer) - Government Victim restitution fund
Aug-24 +$10.00 (transfer) - Northern courts
Aug-30 $10.00 (transfer) - Government Victim restitution fund
Remaining balance- $0.00
Be nice, first writing prompt and I don't know how to format!
| I never expected to catch a flight to Paris on a Tuesday night, but life has a way of surprising you.
When I noticed the odd balance in my checking account, I did the usual: called the bank, reported a fraudulent charge, got the card cancelled. The receptionist told me the charge had an international origin and was spent at a *boulangerie* in the Latin Quarter of Paris. Otherwise, no further information.
I booked a flight minutes after hanging up.
From there, it was a matter of following the paper trail. I got repeated surges of adrenaline wandering into cafes and gift shops, asking questions, collecting information. It had been eight years since I'd done this type of work, and it felt spectacular.
You don't fuck with a retired detective.
The guys covered their tracks pretty well but, as luck would have it, two of 'em wandered into the same cafe just a half hour apart. Bad move. I found out where the second guy lived, booked a hotel room right next door, and bought a pair of binoculars.
Reconnaissance took longer than anticipated. I also ordered too much room service and fancy French wine and cheese. Hey, if you're retired and in Paris, what else are you gonna do?
The next day, I decided to make my move. Slowly. My back hurts all the damn time these days.
Turned out it was a dud. The guy had left earlier in the morning and I was too much of a lazy fuck to get up at the crack of dawn, so I decided to look for the other guy.
God, it took a while. I overestimated my own skills, to be honest. Maybe it was hubris, maybe it was fear of my own age. But with about two thousand bucks left in my account - don't even remember how many euros that is - I found him.
I gave a firm knock on the door and he opened it right up.
"Hello?"
I punched him square in the jaw. Again, hubris. He threw me to the ground within seconds and whipped out a knife.
"Give me one good reason to not cut you to pieces, *connard*."
"You stole something from me. Ten dollars of hard earned cash. I want it back."
He lowered the knife and laughed. "Ha! An American, I take it. You think you can come here and be like...who is it? Bruce Willis. Arnold Schwarzenegger. A real hero. Well, this is bigger than you'll ever understand, old man. So I suggest you run on back home and we'll forget this ever happened."
God. What was I thinking? I honestly believed that I could put a stop to it and get back what was mine. But when you're pushing eighty? Well...I guess I valued my life more than that, at least in that moment.
He let me go, but not without another threat. He told me there would be eyes on me now and for the rest of my life, even back in America.
Yeah, sure, pal. I've heard a hundred empty threats just like that.
I booked a plane ticket back to San Diego with the last of my money and collapsed in my apartment.
Later that week, I took a part-time job at a bakery. Easy stuff - after-hours cleaning and shelving. Calls itself a *boulangerie*, but it's pretty shit compared to France.
I'm saving my money to fly back to Paris, because I'm not done with these bastards.
One day, I'll get that $10, even if it fucking kills me. | 2017-07-18T09:40:22 | 2017-07-18T07:53:57 | 609 | 310 |
[WP]: Most feral children are raised by animals like wolves, apes or boars. Your new roommate was apparently raised by pigeons. | First time doing this so apologies for shitty writing.
Derrick came over to me and sat besides me. He stared blankly at my toast. "Derrick do you want my toast?"
Derrick starred at the toast, twitching his head side to side. I took a bite and some crumbs fell on the tile floor. Derrick collapsed onto the floor and starting licking up the crumbs.
I looked at the time on the oven. Shit! I'm gonna be late for work. My shift at JC Penny's starts in like 5 minutes. "Derrick I gotta go. you can the rest of my toast."
"Pulhlhlh, Pulhlhlh"
Derrick sat in my seat and proceeded to smash his head into the plate in rapid secession. Who am I to stop him? As long he doesn't bother me it's fine.
Well now he really bothered me. On the hood of my car was the product of Derrick's high fiber diet. When did he have the time to do this I don't know.
No. I've had enough of this. I don't give a fuck if Derrick pays my rent (somehow). He is not a fucking pigeon. He is a human being, and he should start acting like.
I stormed inside to see Derrick licking the crumbs of the toast off the plate, his head bleeding from smashing the table. "Derrick! put some pants on! I've had enough of your shit!"
"Pulhlhlh."
"You are going outside right now and are clean the shit off my car."
"Pulhlhlhlh, pulhlhlh."
"No I've had it with you. You cause tons of property damage, you shit everywhere. You don't wear any clothes."
Derrick felt threatened. He jumped out of his seat and ran with his arms flapping. He smashed through our glass door, thinking it was open, and just kept running. Until I couldn't see him any more.
Guess I'm taking work off today.
Edit: spelling mistakes | A lot of people at my college disliked Rafi. I liked him, although his quirks could be a little too much at times. In fact, he had intrigued me from the first time I heard about him. The college had informed me of the circumstances of his upbringing when he had originally been assigned as my roommate, and they made sure to stress that I could get a traditional roommate if I so pleased. See, Rafi had been found in the loft of an abandoned building by an urban explorer. It had been a big news story back in the day, but I was too young to care then. Finding children raised by animals was fairly common anyway, though generally by mammals. These children were often sent to the my town, as we apparently had a lot of therapists specializing in those sorts of cases. Most of the kids ended up going to my college due to ease of acceptance and for the price. As a traditionally raised person, you could choose to room with these kids, much like you can choose to live with an international student in other colleges.
He turned out to be a great roommate match. I am quite the food-waster, but he always ate my leftovers, so it worked out. Watching him interact with the other people in our dorm was hilarious, as he had a bad habit of staring and tilting his head when someone spoke to him. He would run towards food when we went to the dining hall, and he would coo when he was content. To me, he was a great guy. A lot of the other students disliked him, but I think it's because of the aggression they were taught from their respective animal parents. The students raised by wolves would often scare him and laugh as he ran, and the kids raised by apes would prank him all the time. Sometimes they would yell things to him, covering topics ranging from shitting on statues to eating their dropped food. They tended not to do it as much when I was with him, so I tried to walk around with him as much as I could.
My fondest memory of him was this one time we went for a walk at night. We went to a nearby park, as we figured it was a fairly safe area. He was cooing to the pigeons, and they responded. I don't think I've ever seen him as happy as when he was pretending to talk to the pigeons. We had been at the park for a couple of minutes when a group of guys walk towards us. I felt a little uncomfortable, but I tried not be prejudiced. When they came close enough, though, one pulled out a knife, and the others moved quickly to surround us.
"Hand us your wallet, pigeon boy, you don't need the money when you only eat trash anyway."
I was petrified, but I was broken free from the fear and captured by confusion when he suddenly started cooing loudly, flailing his arms around. After a few seconds of silent confusion from the gang, they all started laughing. One grabbed him and threw him to the ground, not realizing the mistake they made: a group of pigeons had already arrived, and they started cooing aggressively after seeing this. Soon, a huge flock of pigeons had formed around us. The gang was looking around, and it was when Rafi got up, grabbed me and yelled "run!" that all the birds attacked in a coordinated fashion of which I have never seen.
When I checked my facebook the next day, the pigeon attack was everywhere. One of the guys had been live streaming it, and of course people were quick to share their loss to the pigeons. Needless to say, people did not mess with Rafi again after that. | 2017-12-03T11:52:49 | 2017-12-03T11:46:58 | 54 | 14 |
[WP] Your 6 year old daughter is laying on her bed, terrified. She says there’s a monster under her bed. To reassure her, you lay on the ground and check underneath, only to find your daughter, quivering. She whispers, “Daddy, there’s something on top of my bed...” | "Dammit Emily, I told you not to scare your sister like that. Now get out from under the bed before I ground you for a week."
Emily slowly gets out from under the bed, annoyed in response to me not playing along. Emily looks back at Sarah on the bed and they both giggle.
"It's two o'clock in the morning, just go to bed. We have to go to grandma's in the morning, and if you keep playing around I'll let a real monster eat you!"
My two twin girls giggle again and in unison reply, "Yes daddy."
Emily finally leaves to go to her own room and I sigh, partly from exasperation but mostly from amusement. People told me that twin girls were going to be a handful, but I hadn't realised how much. | It wasn’t supposed to end like this.
I had tried to keep my daughter away from the monsters who followed me. The spirits that came in the night. Those that were destined to haunt my kind for all eternity. Now that the worst had happened, it was clear that I should have surrendered to them long ago.
Perhaps then they would have left her alone. Perhaps they wouldn’t have discovered what she truly was.
The formless monsters lurked in the shadows and flew upon the winds. They fit through even the smallest gaps, their shapeless bodies sliding through like black slime. It didn’t matter where we ran; nowhere was ever safe. At least, not for long. I should have remembered that.
However, they had grown wise, staying away for months at a time before striking. I had always been ready. But it had been four years since their last attempt, and I had grown soft. I had forgotten what my father had taught me and what his father had taught him.
I reached for my daughter’s translucent hand and gripped it in my own. Her spirit was limited outside of her body, weak from the fight that had forced it out. It was only the touch of the Dark-Blood that kept her from spiraling upwards to the land beyond.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly.
A heartbeat later, I was thrown into the bedroom wall. The shadow who had taken my daughter’s body rose from the bed like a serpent as I staggered to my feet.
The monster's presence had turned my daughter’s blonde hair a frigid white and had filled her eyes with black ink. The shadow stumbled towards me with a disjointed smile on its adopted face, still adjusting to new legs.
“A half-breed,” the shadow hissed. “What have you done, Tal?”
I cringed as blood began to pour from the corners of the child’s eyes. I knew I couldn’t fight her, even though it was no longer my daughter. It didn’t matter. I deserved to die.
The shadow fell to its knees upon its next step. Wait. Something was wrong.
I watched in bewilderment as the shadow was pulled from its host and the small, empty body became washed in light. Only it was no longer empty.
My daughter observed me in shock. “Daddy … what just happened?”
____
[r/creatorcorvin] (https://www.reddit.com/r/creatorcorvin/) for more stories.
| 2018-04-30T17:18:37 | 2018-04-30T14:00:25 | 31 | 13 |
[WP] You have an incredible ability, the ability to create something just by saying its name, only problem is you gotta say it in an ancient tongue that no one knows, not even yourself, today in the middle of going through a terrible cough, your ability activates for the fourth time in your life. | \*waves hello\* Hello all, I'm as new as they get around here, but I've been writing for some time - just not lately, as writer's block and life have had me in quite a chokehold for almost a decade now. So, I figured I'd give some short story writing prompts a try, see if that helps me. :) But enough about me...
\* \* \*
“What have you got there?”
“Nuthin.” I tried in vain to hide my newest creation behind my back, knowing full well that there wasn’t a possibility that Mama would miss it. The downside of being the spawn of an all-knowing, all-seeing demi goddess meant that you couldn’t get away with squat.
“Come on, Iras.” One of Mama’s hands extended toward me, and I focused on the tinge of green to her nails instead of looking into her eyes. Any of those six eyes would know immediately that I was lying, and darn it all, I was GOING to get away with it this time. “Give.”
“I don’t have nuthin.” I shifted my feet absently, hoping the sound of my tentacles across the sand would be enough to distract her. “When’s Dad coming home?”
She sighed. “Not for a while, kiddo. You know he’s involved in some world building a few realities over.” She fixed all of her eyes on me and stared through me. “Oh no, Iras. What did you do this time?”
“It wasn’t my fault!” I pulled the glowing orb out from behind my back guiltily and covered it carefully with my arms.
“It never is, is it.” The disproval in Mama’s voice stung. “Let me see.”
I reluctantly held the sphere up so she could examine it. She took it from my hands and peered into its swirling center. “My, Iras. How’d this happen?”
“I was playing with Liku and Boro, and Boro accidentally hit me across the nose.” I rubbed at my nose absently, the stinging still present. “I sneezed, one of those good sneezes that comes from the bottom to the top?” I mimed sneezing so hard, my eyeballs nearly popped out.
Mama was doing her best to suppress a smile for my antics as she said, “And then what happened?”
“Well, when I sneezed, something happened.” I stopped pantomiming for a moment and considered. “I think I said somethin’ when I sneezed. Something like what Dad says. There was this HUGE flash of light,” my arms did their best to show Mama just how big of a flash of light it was, “and then this fell onto the ground.”
“My.” Was that… pride I heard in Mama’s voice? “Well, your father will be very interested to see this when he gets home, you know.” She handed it back to me gently and patted me on the head. “It looks like this one’s fully alive too, you know. Even your brother was eons older than you before he created his first fully functional life form.”
“I know.” I was beaming now that it was apparent I wasn’t going to get in trouble. “I’ve been messing with it all day, seeing what I can do with it. Can…” Dare I ask? “Can I keep it?”
“I don’t see why not. You created it, after all, you can keep it as long as you take care of it.” She bent down and enveloped me in a large, tentacled hug. “Just remember that universes are a big responsibility.”
“I know, Mama.”
“Do you know what you’re going to name it yet?”
“Well, when I sneezed, it kinda sounded like ‘Hoomom.’ So I was thinking, human?”
“Make it more official sounding and call it ‘humanity.’ That will look better on the forms.”
“Ok, Mama.” | The shadows were dancing across the walls, pirouetting excitedly around the objects that bore their likeness.
Intik was lost in a world of his own, somewhere between the sway of the shadows and the flamboyance of the full moon as it peered curiously through the window. The sound of muffled coughing brought him back into the room from his reverie, as the shadows shuffled in excitement at the distraction.
Covering his right hand with a cloth, Intik took the kettle off the fire and poured a generous helping of tea into an expectant mug. The crushed herbs at the bottom of the mug rose to greet the new arrival, swirling around playfully in delight. Carefully placing the kettle back on the fire, Intik carried the mug and saucer over to the bed where the source of the cough lay, cloth in hand to stifle any noise he may make.
Cautiously, Intik placed the saucer in Gat's right hand, supporting his head with his left hand while gently raising the cup to his lips. Gat took a few sips, pausing to recover from the bitter mixture, before taking a few more for effect.
Placing the mug on the saucer (and the saucer on the bedside table) Intik moved over to his chair beside the bed and sat down. His shadow followed suit, disappearing behind him as he planted himself. He looked Gat up and down, trying to decide if he was well enough to take questions. Satisfied that he was, he began the process of trying to understand what had happened.
"Can you remember what you said, or what it sounded like...at all?" he asked, expectantly.
Gat glanced over at Intik. Bringing his hands out from under the sheets, he began to answer the question.
*I was coughing when I felt the Birth take effect. I can't remember what I sounded like, I was too preoccupied with the feeling of the Birth. It still feels strange...even though I have felt it 3...no, 4 times now.*
As he answered, Gat had to pause every few words to try and stifle a cough.
Intik was not disappointed by this answer, for he had expected this. At first, Intik found it difficult to keep pace with Gat when he spoke with his fingers, but now he was getting better. He understood the importance of this to Gat; he couldn't risk accidentally creating something that could cause disaster. The only way to avoid the risk was to avoid speaking.
"I checked on the others earlier. They're looking too, but hadn't found anything when I heard them last. Koram is coming here shortly to look after you while I take over the search" responded Intik, shuffling in his seat.
Gat started fidgeting, as if he was about to say something but wasn't sure if he should. Intik preempted Gat's statement, and began to answer it.
"Stop apologizing all the time. You didn't ask for this, and it's our pleasure to help you. Now, relax and finish your tea" said Intik, reaching across the sideboard to hand Gat the mug and saucer. As he placed them in Gat's hands, he noticed how his shadow appeared to take Gat's hand in its own, as if to comfort him.
It wasn't until he sat back down that he noticed Gat was no longer the only other person in the room with him.
"Did you find anything, Koram?" he asked, smiling. Koram always had a way of appearing, unannounced. He was a law unto himself, but his results were undeniable.
"I let myself in, hope you don't mind...Gat, Intik" he said, tipping his head to each, then, moving to the window and tipping his head once more, he said "Liriharan. Looking lovely tonight." He moved away from the window and looked at Intik, then at Gat. "To answer your question, no, I didn't find anything. Are you sure you felt a Birth and not just...you now...a cough?"
Intik chose to ignore that last comment. Koram was arrogant, which infuriated him at times. He hated vanity, arrogance, greed...anything that could prejudice your vision of the truth.
It was time for Intik to begin his search. He noticed Gat looking concerned. This was the first time anything he had Birthed had chosen to run away. He feared this meant the Birthed was frightened, which meant they may do something to hurt someone, even in self-defense. We had to find it before that happened.
"Gat, stop worrying" Intik began. "We will find the Birthed. After all, I am Intik, the Shadow of the World. If it casts a shadow, I will know. If it doesn't, I'll know what to look for. And I am not alone. Liliharan the Moonsiren is helping us look, and so is Koram the Pheobian. We will find the Birthed before it harms itself, or anyone else." he promised.
He noticed Gat's fist unclench at his speech. Even Koram seemed moved. Liliharan, still peering through the window, seemed to be brighter than a moment ago.
He didn't tell them that he knew where to start looking. *If it casts a shadow, I'll know.*
Smiling, he headed to where he thought his Sibling was, hoping it wasn't too late.
---
If you enjoyed this story and would like to see more from me, please consider subscribing to my subreddit [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/phreaklikeme/)! | 2018-08-06T07:44:28 | 2018-08-06T04:12:41 | 102 | 55 |
[WP] You've died. You expected to be judged in the Afterlife, but all you see now is God and Satan disappointingly sigh at you and simultaneously scold: "We look away for five months and you died AGAIN?!" | You give a nervous chuckle. "Yep, I'm here again..."
Satan glared at you. "How did you die this time!? All the demons have been in check!" God nods in agreement. "All the angels have been as perfect as ever. Maybe you died from natural cause?"
"Heh, well it was another demon," you mutter. Satan quickly spoke up and said "God gave you a cross to avoid this! That's impossible!"
"Well...maybe they took it off with an angel's help?" You suggested, avoiding all eye contact with the two.
"C'mooon!" The demon's voice from the other night boomed in your head. "It's just one drink! What's the worst that'll happen?"
"I guess..." your voice responded with. One drink turned into two which turned into three, and three drinks eventually turned into ten. If the car crash you got into didn't kill you, the alcohol poisoning probably would have.
God sighed. "Now, now, let's not point fingers. Let's figure out what to do. Maybe it really is your time this time."
Your eyes widened. "No! I can't die! I'm so close to finding a way to close the opening to Hell!"
"That's what you said last time!" Satan bellowed. "Yet, demons are still escaping to the human world!"
"I know, I know, I- I just need a bit more time, please...!" Your voice shook.
God sighed again. "I think we should allow one more chance."
Satan groaned. "I'm getting sick of this..."
"Are you sure that'll work?" You heard yourself asking the night before.
"Of course," the demon assured you, "just follow my lead."
"Alright," God said after a moment of silence, "we will allow you one more chance."
"And you need to get this done!" The devil demanded.
"Yes, of course!" You say. "Thank you so much!"
You gasp, bolting upright. You looked around at your surroundings. You were laid next to a burning car, the body of the demon from the night before laying next to you. There wasn't a scratch on him, just as expected. "Well?" You ask. "Got what you need?"
"All of it," the demon's voice came out of your mouth. "As long as he thinks the demons are in check, we will be good. So, they expect you to close the opening to Hell?"
"Yes," you respond with your own voice. "Your body is untouched, too."
"Perfect. Once I get back into my body, you and I can start our outbreak."
You chuckle. "It's gonna be one HELL of a time."
"Oh, shut up..." | A semi-truck trailer tilted on top of you as you walked along the sidewalk, killing you instantly.
&#x200B;
"Would you plea-,"
&#x200B;
One of your closest allies sent a spear through your chest, killing you and your hard-earned trust instantly.
&#x200B;
"Stop,"
&#x200B;
Hanging upside down had been fun until the majority of your body's blood pooled inside your head, killing you.
&#x200B;
"Dying for a sec-,"
&#x200B;
That wasn't a good place to shove your smartphone. You died on the way to the hospital.
&#x200B;
"ME DAMN IT, STOP DYING SO I CAN TALK TO YOU," God shouted. The Catholics were right; he could be an angry god. Satan was silently laughing to himself.
&#x200B;
You were so used to dying you were surprised that it had been a whole five months since you wound up here. Of course, five months was not a concrete unit of measurement; time in Heaven and Hell had little basis or need for it. You guessed it was roughly a lifetime. Satan piped up:
&#x200B;
"Okay, so to hell with this," he snapped, exhaling smoke from an eternally-burning cigarette. "I didn't bet 10,000 souls on you just so you could push daisies every ten seconds. I feel like I don't even know you anymore, especially since the smartphone thing."
&#x200B;
"I know literally everything about him and I *still* don't know him anymore," God remarked with his face in his hand.
&#x200B;
"Listen, man," Satan said, with a tone as sympathetic as The Dark Lord could muster. "Normally, mortals aren't supposed to know their life's purpose; it could disrupt the balance. But you should know-"
&#x200B;
"Nononononono," God said hurriedly. "I swear to Me, if you tell him-"
&#x200B;
"Oh, calm down, old man. It's one mortal; it'll be fine."
&#x200B;
God paused for a moment, then sighed. "Ugh, whatever."
&#x200B;
"So, kid," he put a hoofed arm around my shoulders. "I'm sure in your lifetimes you've heard of a little thing called, 'World Peace' on Earth, right?"
&#x200B;
You nod.
&#x200B;
"Okay," he continued. "So the big man upstairs here and I get pretty damn bored in eternity. He's put a cosmic bet on you being the first human to bring peace to your planet. As for me, I think you're far too much your kind to let that happen."
&#x200B;
"Why?" you ask.
&#x200B;
"You're the only human whose timeline doesn't have a clear outcome," he said. "You can master the balance of things, and understand both the dark and the light in the world. To us, you're potentially both of our aces in the hole."
&#x200B;
You stand silent, contemplative.
&#x200B;
"So now that you know," he said with the slyest of smiles, "it's up to you. When you get back out there, keep in mind what's going on both downstairs and up."
&#x200B;
"Remember," God said as you faded back into human existence. "We're both rooting for you."
&#x200B;
You feel yourself breathe and open your eyes, sensations all-too-familiar. It's a new day back on Earth. You smile from ear to ear, realizing your true purpose. You've dabbled in both sides of the yin and yang, and haven't quite decided which direction you'll head in this time around. You button your shirt, feel your $4,200 suit wrap around your torso, and reach for your bright-red hat with hemmed, white lettering reading: "Make America Great Again." You take a deep breath, and walk to the waiting crowd where you'll deliver your first speech as President of the United States. | 2019-07-17T15:18:01 | 2019-07-17T15:07:27 | 410 | 36 |
[WP] The hero shows up at the villains doorstep one night. Theyre shivering bleeding scared. They look like they were assaulted. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly, close to passing out, they mumble “didn’t know where else to go” then collapse into the villains arms. | THUMP!!! The doors of the hanger I rented shook with such force that I almost dropped the welder I was holding in shock. I was certainly not expecting visitors. I mean sure, I am a villain, but renting a hanger and inventing stuff inside is not exactly illegal, even if I was planning to use that stuff for less than legal purposes later.
THUMP!!! The second hit reminded me that I had a situation, I quickly picked up my blaster and aimed it at the doors, waiting for it to inevitably fail and come crashing down.
The third hit, if it can be called that, was more of a ping instead of the loud thud I was expecting. I was also expecting the doors to come crashing down and a hero to walk in and announce my villainous schemes are over, but neither of that happened. Instead, it became silent again. After a minute of this silence, my curiosity finally won out and I opened the doors and peeked out.
A shadow greeted me as I peeked out, rushing towards me. Too close, I shielded my face and waited for the inevitable pain to start, only for a limp body to fall onto me. I managed to grab the body before it hit the ground and in the light of the hanger's interior, I was finally able to identify the intruder of the night.
Lightning Woman.
..........
"You know, I've been in this business for quite some time, this is the first time I had to treat a superhero. Or in this case, a superheroine. They have their own doctors you know."
Doctor Underground, a doctor that treats anyone, as long as you have the money, making him the go to doctor for people who wanted to keep a low profile, and got the cash. He was not happy about getting a call for treatment then getting gate-ed over to a unknown location within half an hour of said call. But a wad of cash quickly convince him to shut up and get to work.
"Anyway, I've patched her up. Thanks for the business." He paused, as if wondering if her should say more. "A word of advise. Whatever put her in this state, you do NOT want to get involved with."
I thanked him and dialed the gate to send the doctor back. For all his claims of doing it only for the money, the two of us have mutual respect of sorts for each other.
Lightning Woman. A B-list hero, powers are flight, super speed, near invulnerability and with good looks to boot. She could have made A-list easy, but preferred to do more community enforcement instead of going global that an A-lister requires. I've tangled with her a few times, and I like to think I'm one of the more honorable foe that she encountered and we did talk for a bit while off the clock, but still, why did she come to me? And maybe more importantly, who or what put her in that state. I looked through the list of injuries that the doctor gave me, facial bruising and swelling, left hand crushed, right forearm broken, 2 ribs broken, and stomach bruising. It looked like she had been in a car crash, if a car crash can injure a meta human that routinely takes hits with the force of a 18 wheeler.
I sigh, so many questions, so few answers. And nothing that can be done until she wakes up. I send a request to the information brokers on the movements of Lightning Woman for the past few day before settling in to wait for her to finally wake up and give me some answers.
......
That wait turned out to be just a few hours. It seems that one of her unlisted powers was accelerated healing. And it was a wonder to see her face literally recover from what looks closer to a hamburger patty to it's beautiful self right before my eyes.
"So? What's going on?" I said. "No need to pretend you are still asleep, the sensors don't lie."
With a sigh, she finally opened her eyes. "Can't you be nicer to a patient?"
"It has something to do with the fact that I'm a villain and you are a card carrying, certified hero. I tend to error on the side of caution here."
Another sigh from her. "Look, I didn't know where else to go."
"To a hero serving hospital would be good. And why me? And do I even want to know who or what caused your injuries?"
"I can't go there, it would raise too many questions. And they wouldn't believe me anyway."
I feel a headache coming in. "Look, it seems that you don't want to speak about it and I get that, I really do. But please just tell me one thing. Is this something that will come and bite me in the ass? Do I need to prepare for armageddon or something?"
It was almost a whisper, but she said, "Don't go too close to the Sun if you don't want to get burned."
Something clicked in the back of my head. The sun. THE Sun. The world's premier superhero. With the same powers like Lightning Woman, only greater. One of the very few people who can go toe to toe with her and pound her into the dirt.
And her husband.
I can see why she couldn't go to any hospital, this would cause a huge stir in the community and those who rock the boat this much tend to end up facing a situation where they die heroically and get their name engraved in the wall of honor.
But still, the Sun is not someone I can realistically tangle with. At my best I can maybe match Lightning Woman for 5 minutes before she rips me to sherds. With The Sun, I would last about a minute, with 30 seconds of that time being taken for his hero speech.
"Look, you've been through a lot, rest here. I can't grantee that you'll be safe from HIM, but I promise I wouldn't rat you out. That's the most I can promise. Let me get you something to eat"
She nodded as I got up to head to the kitchen.
What the hell am I going to do about this... | "I didn't know where else to go..." Little more came from the now collapsing knight's throat.
There were few reasons for him to have turned to me.
One - the most obvious and at the same time least likely one - is that he tried to pull a fast one on me, tried to use the subterfuge I had employed so often. A sentimental thought, only, since his "Honor" outranked any will to succeed, as he had spit in my face.
Another was to present his own surrender, and perhaps negotiate terms. He had done so plenty, yet it was evident that he was neither negotiating now nor capable of negotiating terms soon due to his wounds and sheer horror.
I ran my mind through it all. He was horrified, battered, bleeding out and quite cold. One of my commanders, perhaps? I didn't employ people with evident ice magic, too high of a chance to let people escape by looking, feeling, and sounding like they are dead when the thing that would destroy them let them cling to life a bit more.
Perhaps another threat, in it's desires completely orthogonal to our conflicting ones? Could be, though nothing of that sort has been on my radar. Then again, he'd more likely turn to his friends and companions before turning to me, and if they all needed help, they'd all be sitting next, or bandaging him.
Or he can't get to his friends, and needs something else from me. I need to do more research.
***
The door is locked, and I advised my servants to send any guests asking for entry away, no matter how beaten up, no matter how gloating or stressing they are. Letting another person in right now would increase the statistical odds of allowing any planned traps to spring on me to 28%.
The knight hasn't awoken yet. I throw a healing concoction into his face. The glass splinters and cracks, and while the pain must certainly be agonizing, the fluids do their best to mend these and other wounds.
He shrieks in pain. And slowly, he gets up. He looks about. He knows he is imprisoned, incarcerated. A cell, big enough for 5, populated with him and me alone. He sees that he still has his armor, his weaponry. He sees me.
"Come now, get your weapon out. You wanted a lesson."
Oh, he doesn't understand, but he still readies his weapon. He is defensive, waiting for me to hit first. His grasp is wavering, and a singular strike would break through his defenses if I hit firmly enough. Pathetic.
"I know why you are here. I have my eyes about. Your lovely little troupe has some trouble with some trickery, and it just about costed you your life. You couldn't get help, and you couldn't defeat them."
I strike down at him, an open swing above the head, which left me wide open if he had any aggression within him. He'd quickly realise that refusing to press his advantage would leave him wide open.
He tried blocking it. His gaze is filled with confusion, and then pain as the blade he held to block pressed down on his face. His balance is wavering, and he falls on his bottoms.
"Get up. Do it right." I guide him with my shortsword.
He raises himself up. He once more assumes a defensive position. I once more raise my blade to an overarc swing. And, once more, he tries to block. Once more, he is sent to the ground.
"Get up. I am getting tired of tutoring you, so put in your effort."
He raises himself up, still defensive, still so sentimental about actually attacking. I raise my blade again, but halt. His gaze is confusion, but a bit of fear still. Not a fear of me, it is different than other times.
"Could it be that you don't know how to attack non-lethally?" I wondered aloud.
His sword lowered, his stance turned from a defensive to none at all. He nodded.
"Well, that explains it. You certainly aren't weak to overpower a traitor within your ranks, which meant you didn't want to overpower them. If they were an ordinary traitor, having defected due to offers from my side, you'd not be hesitant, I'd guess. But your sentimentality in this matter suggests other means of provoking betrayal... Raise your weapon."
He did so, again. This time, I feigned an attack, and slammed the hilt into his face. The gemstone adorning it got bloodied, and his nose looked the part.
"This is for subduing. It hurts, doesn't it? But it rarely is lethal, even under repeated pummeling. And it gives the skull a mighty good rattle! Can shake off most of the things one falls victim to. The lovely daze of beauty, the heat of anger... Mind control?"
He looked, his eyes widening as a glimmer of hope flickers before him. He gets up all on his own, and I ready myself to attack.
My head rattles about mightily, my vision becomes slightly blurry. He attacked! He actually did it. "Well done. So, you know how to solve your little dilemma, don't you? There is one thing I need to stress, however... come closer."
He gets up, gets pretty close to me, half a meter distance.
"Now that you know how to solve the problem, it will be so much more satisfying to know you won't be able to use it." I smirk, and swing my blade diagonally upwards from it's resting position. It, too becomes bloodied, and the eyes that had been filled with hope and so much confusion, they even showed a little bit of clarity now. He knew I'd do this. He knew I would kill him.
His body slumps to the ground, lifeless. I drop my blade, and leave, locking the door. This kill doesn't need to make rounds. I already had enough people trying to avenge.
***
The rebellion had no stopping yet. It seemed as if they hadn't had problems at all. I was somewhat confused, until I got account from one escaping guard. He had seen the troupe I had in my sight for a long time, wrecking the place. A knight was at the forefront, with a shortsword, it's hilt gemmed, a snake carved into it.
I usually had a policy of letting people who bring me information alive, but this was a strand that he only didn't put together because he was a moron. If he blabbed this info to but one person more, they'd add together that that was clearly my blade. So letting him live was not an option. Luckily, there was a dead man's cell that evidently became vacant recently. I'd best put him in there.
***
My head hurts, rattling about. My sight is blurry, dizzy. I see the knight, smirking. He pulls away his - my blade. I am in a cave, around me markings and charts. I compose myself.
"Well, I guess this is a place of many things, though I'd say it is a prime place for cosmic malice. I tried to order the world around, and I turned into a pawn. I taught you to free your friends, and you free your enemy. Now, if you'd give me a second."
I compose myself. Wipe blood from my nose, gather my sword, get my footing right. All the while, they wait, patient, sentimental, pathetic fools.
"Alright. I hope you didn't expect me to just help you now. Pathetic. Ready yourselves. This is my final lesson!" | 2019-08-04T07:59:20 | 2019-08-04T03:30:14 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] Turns out humanity was alone in the universe because they were way too early to the party. Now, billions of years later aliens find a strange planet, Earth, and begin to unveil the secrets of the first intelligent species. | The monument was smaller than T'rakkar had expected. It was less than ten meters in height, a simple laser-etched plaque in granite. In the first few years it had been built, when the remains of the First World had been discovered, there had been a rush of tourists to the site. The wonders of economics had, within a month, caused a hundred thousand orbiting viewing platforms to spring into existence around the dying white dwarf the First World still orbited, and tickets had been ten times the annual worker's salary. The downside, he mused, to a truly galactic economy; the richest one percent were quadrillions in number.
What had it been like, back then? A species confined to one world, gazing at the stars, mere billions strong? A stray meteor, an accidental misalignment of a neutron star all it would take to wipe out all trace of your genetic lineage. The thought made him shudder; he, at least, had left eggs on a score of worlds. With any luck, his legacy would continue on for billions of years to come.
T'rakkar had never considered himself a spiritual person. His colony was a practical minded one, his crechemates likewise focused on material matters. Indeed, their colony produced some of the finest engineers among the T'karan, so he couldn't fault the philosophy.
But here, in front of a simple plaque on a blasted rock around a dying star, he felt a sense of wonder that hadn't stirred since he was a larva.
"Hello," he read, "We are the human race. By the time you receive this message, we will be dead. There are many challenges a species must face. By the time you can understand this message, you will have overcome many of them. We hope you had an easier time than we did."
It was a famous passage, from the middle of the Codex. The ancient message passed along through every intelligent species. A fitting inscription for this place, he decided. Every larva had read it a hundred times; but he continued anyway. Sometimes the place the message was received was as important as the message itself.
"The first challenge you faced was survival. You were born on a world teeming with life, with predators that hunted you, with parasites that weakened you, with diseases that struck you down. We congratulate your ancestors on overcoming a challenge that so few species do, of birthing a race that was strong and smart enough to dominate your world.
"The second challenge you faced was yourselves. Only the strong survive, and the strong survive by taking from the weak. We congratulate your species on overcoming the tragedy of strength to build a civilization where all members worked together for the good of all."
T'rakkar smiled, his antennae curling. Even among a hive species, "the good of all" had never been achievable. He wondered what kind of psychology and evolutionary pressures humans must have had to achieve that level of cohesion.
"The third challenge you face is the world. By the time you can read this message, you will have achieved an understanding of the world strong enough to master it. So too did we. We pass our knowledge to you, for knowledge hoarded is knowledge wasted. We ask that you broadcast this message in its entirety, to ease others suffering as this will ease yours.
"The fourth challenge you face will be despair. For once you have mastered the world, what else is left? You will be divorced from the cycles your ancestors evolved in. You will face challenges they were never designed to handle. You will be lost, alone, and confused. And you will suffer.
"You will face many more challenges besides, but we are ashamed to admit we do not know what they are, for we never overcame this one. We achieved a form of paradise on our planet. No human has felt hunger in millennia; no labor has been performed that was not volunteered. And yet our species will die, sooner or later, because we are alone. Because without challenge, there is no meaning to life.
"We, the authors of this message, call ourselves Arecibo, and we foretell our demise. We send this message as a warning and as a message of hope. Rejoice, because you are not alone. Look up at the stars, and know: we were here. Our existence was preposterously unlikely; our survival even more so. We hope that this message makes any future existence merely unlikely. Look up at the stars, and fear. Look up at the stars, and wonder."
He wondered if humanity knew just how much good their message had done. His own species had been in the middle of a cold war that would likely have lead to their annihilation when they received the Codex. Historians and politicians had argued about exactly what it had done for decades. Had the advanced technology provided simply reduced the resource pressures and averted war? It certainly had reduced tensions, but hives had declared war over lesser things. Had the humans' message of hope truly touched the hearts of their ancestors? Some people found it inspiring; yet T'rakkar had never been among them. The dead were dead, and their society had long since surpassed the humans'.
Yet all throughout the galaxy, species had received the Codex, and almost every species that did had survived.
T'rakkar looked up at the stars. He wondered how different they would have looked, otherwise. | Log 0378:
Day 0985 of the Hend’ari Expedition:
It has been sometimes since our last update to the Council, the QEC was damaged after a slight miscalculation of our ship’s FTL vector.
Thankfully Chief Engineer Hans was able to repair the QEC with minimal expenditure, and has added some shielding in case similar incident, but none the less, seeing as it is my duty to double check ever calculation made by Chief Navigator Ellieen, I take full responsibility for the three weeks of silence and any panic this may have caused.
To quickly summarize the goings on of the last few weeks, all systems and supplies are within projected conditions and there has yet to be any change as to the time of our return.
As too our finds we have found one more garden world perfectly suitable for colonization, two black holes within acceptable parameters for Event Horizon energy production, three dozen gas giants rich in He3, as well as two hundred and five mineral rich planets.
Individual classing tables as well as coordinates also included of course.
But the most interesting finding is the detection of artificial radio waves arriving from the opposite direction of our space.
In preparation for the potential first contact, the black box is being kept up to date on a by the hour basis, the translation technology is undergoing checks for any glitches or disrepair and the diplomats on board are being on high alert at all times in case we encounter any other ships.
Du bist ein Kind,
Captain Lukas.
————————————————————————
Log 0379:
Day 0986 of the Hend’ari Expedition:
Our findings are... less optimistic than we had hoped.
Eighteen hours ago our engineers had pinpointed the exact system from which the signals originated, five hours ago we arrived within the system and a quick scan revealed nine garden worlds within the system, as well as three spaceport like structures clocking the entirety of the gas giants within the system.
That was not an error in the QEC that Chief Engineer Hans overlooked, all our telescopes, state of the art need I not remind you, found the nine planets a mix of green and purple urban, clearly showing colonization and habitation, as well as three much larger planets completely covered by a long sheet of purple metal buildings.
One could attribute the purple as a color preference of the species and considering the rarity of garden worlds, with the Nigel system, possessing the previous highest number of garden worlds found in a single system, sporting only three garden worlds, this is either a great anomaly or these people possess terraforming technology centuries ahead of the most recent developments at the Templin Institute.
And seeing the flying cities encapsulating the gas giants, I would bet it be the latter of the possibilities.
But this is the unsettling part, even though we found tens of thousands of ships in the system, not a single one responded to our hails, even the planets and flying cities ignored our calls.
Wearily, I dispatched a shuttle of marines as well diplomats to the nearest planet and they found the streets completely empty, great plazas and labyrinths left abandoned,
And while we might attribute this simply to a system hastily abandoned before the Star exploded, scans show the Star of the system still boasts millions of years within it’s lifetime.
And after a direct command by myself to ascend the tower which shadowed planet, they found only found a small symbol on the very top of the tower, easily identified by it’s metallic color contrasting with the purple of the city.
The image of the symbol is attached to the log.
At that moment one of the marines tried to scratch the purple surface of the city, and bring back a sample, the scientists who examined it found long strings of DNA within the proteins that make it up.
It is their working theory that this is the blood of an advanced life form, and although gene mapping will take a while yet, almost all the scientist suspect they will find the Milch-34 strand, which as they explain it to me, is the strand found in species that boast sapience.
We will continue landings on the garden worlds and giants, and await the gene mapping, the Blackbox is now being updated by the minute and I have dedicated much crew effort into insuring the warp device within activates.
I would also advice some military preparation be taken.
Ich seid die Kinder,
Captain Lukas.
————————————————————————
Log 383:
Day 996:
You will notice this report will not contain much in the way of formaility or proper etiquette and I must apologize.
As I have said in my last report, we have continued to go deeper into this systems, everyday our engineers are more amazed by the technology and circuitry they find and the entire crew shudders as we bypass dozens of blood soaked perfectly terraformed planets, flying cities and massive spaceports.
As usual we attempt hailing in every system, but two minutes ago, something unusual happened.
One of the ships responded.
And though translation software has yet to decipher the message, I can only fear what it might hold.
Our navigators detect a ship they claim to be fifty million kilometers long heading towards us, they detect it is made of organic rather than synthetic material, and it will arrive in a few minutes.
I truly hope this is not my final log, but if it is, tell my daughter, no matter how cold and distant I was and no matter how much she might hate me, I always loved you and have been proudest father in world.
Lukas
———————————————————————-
Okay... so the idea initially was to just have abandoned human systems numbering in the thousands cause they ascended somewhere or died out, then I couldn’t think of an ending, so it was humans who went extinct because of some threat, but I felt that was against the premise of the prompt so it became humans ascended into god like things that drive species extinct and paint their planets with blood?
I feel like it could have been better, but the Duolingo bird is getting pissy with me and I’m getting tired so that was all I came up with.
Also, I feel like it would be better if i added another log to give them some reason to be afraid of the organic monstrosity at the end, but; hey.
First drafts will suck anyway, so I’m just rolling with it.
Edit, rereading the prompt, I feel like I might have stepped out of the premise, and logs from the archeology team sent into abandoned human systems might have been better but, this took me like an hour so good enough?
Edit2, okay, I thought this might get buried, but at least like 12 people have read it, so for any future readers, the thing I like about this style of stories, ie prompts is it gets a lot of stories out fast so critiscm can be heard and stuff can actually improve, and the writer can’t take anything personally cause they invested so little time into it.
Soooo anyone else, what’s the biggest narrative or writing failing in this? | 2019-08-13T15:04:00 | 2019-08-13T15:01:04 | 858 | 82 |
[WP] Turns out humanity was alone in the universe because they were way too early to the party. Now, billions of years later aliens find a strange planet, Earth, and begin to unveil the secrets of the first intelligent species. | At a glance, it was a barren planet. Indistinguishable from billions of other planets in the Milky Way.
The first giveaway of something extraordinary was its radiation signature; way beyond the expected range for its class.
Closer inspection revealed ancient structures. Another civilization that burned itself out. Still not that uncommon.
But once a probe was sent down to radiodate the structures, an existential panic rippled across the galaxy. The species on this planet had reached its peak billions of years before any previously known intelligent life forms had evolved.
The electronic devices of this civilization had long since decayed. However, above the floating wreckage of orbiting satellite fragments (and one Tesla) was the final testament to the human race. Shielded from radiation, preserved at near zero degrees Kelvin, its data structure was intact. The information was stored in a format to be read by any civilization.
“We have failed.
“We have failed our own interest, assuring our mutual destruction. We have failed an even greater calling. A calling to spread to the stars. To spread life and vibrance across the night sky.
“We were reckless. In our race to the future, we derailed. Greed, envy, and above all, intolerance, were our undoing. We were not worthy of the stars.
“Our world lays smoldering. In our final gasp, we choose to breath life into the aether. We spread packets of single celled life to the most fertile planets. May this seed a life form better than ourselves. One worthy to inherit the stars...”
One by one, each warring races across the galaxy made a pilgrimage to “Earth”. To the genesis of their race, of all races. A common ancestry bound these disparate races together. A common threat, met by their progenitor race, served as a warning to would be warmongers.
A golden age of prosperity rises from the fertile ashes of the humans empire, may they rest in peace. | **Journeys End**
Tomorrow we reach it. Garrix says that we’ll find the root to all existence, that purpose itself will have an answer, like all equations. I stopped listening to Garrix a long time ago.
Officer Mercurier hasn’t stopped pacing the entire journey, her performance has declined significantly. If anyone should be concerned with roots it would be her, she was the heir to a family who extended all the way back to the diaspora.
I chose my team carefully. The pair are barely fit to the task but they are a lesser evil. Choosing someone from one of the high families could be construed as an act of war, and I will not suffer one of the tech-speakers aboard this ship.
In my hand was the last coherent reading from the planet.
&#x200B;
*:We Were Human:*
&#x200B;
The archaic term for the origin species. The spacial trail ends here, the trail of death that many seekers died following. The first and last time a worm drive was activated. A scar on the fabric of reality. What will we find. Will the worm trail be a testament to ambition? Cowardice? Failure? Ignorance? Tomorrow we reach it, the end. I hope so anyway.
My X-HUNTER was a standard military ship a hundred years ago. Now its a relic that’s held together with TLC and sheer will. As I walked past Garrix’s quarters I found myself stroking the insignia plate. *Unit: D3LI14.*
“Delila” I whispered to the groaning metal. My hand touched the plate with a reverence and tenderness that’s reserved for the overly attached and very lonely.
“Cap?” a groggy voice called through pincers “Arrived have we?” Garrix’s chitin grated against the metal as he worked his way from the bed, pincers clicking all the while.
The door would have been a sliding door, opening at the presence of the inhabitants and asking for clarification if anyone outside wanted in, but this was Delila.
Garrix pushed aside the hanging beads. His soft beige chitin shining with the morning orange from the ships lights.
His antennae whipped back and forth “I can’t honestly say I’ve ever been this excited” His shell parted slightly, revealing the almost human face beneath. No mouth, no nose, but beautiful blue eyes that held more life than I’d ever felt.
“Just hope there’s still anything left of the place” I said my cynicism topping my own excitement “Might be a wasteland” his shoulders slumped but then he looked at my face. He saw the excitement I felt, that even beneath the nihilistic haze I was still me. Garrix was one of the last people I knew that I could call friend.
He saw through my bullshit. But didn’t begrudge it. He had his shell and I had mine.
“Best get ready, Cap” he nodded and went back inside his room. I had begun to walk away when he called back “Make one for me too”
I giggled to myself as I walked towards the bridge. He’d gone to get dressed and wanted coffee. Someone who can’t consume liquid and only wears clothes on special occasions, wanted coffee and wads getting changed. He must be nervous or excited. Probably both.
The bridge hummed as the auxiliary systems came to life. Someone had started up Delila without me.
[JHCWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/JHCWrites/): Check My Stuff! | 2019-08-13T16:22:41 | 2019-08-13T15:27:26 | 32 | 24 |
[WP] For some unknown reason, you wake up to an alternate universe where everyone including you is the opposite sex | I sat in the classroom, awkwardly letting my legs hang open. It was the only way I could sit without crushing the new pair of balls resting between my thighs.
*God, how do guys live with these things?*
All around, I watched as people entered the classroom and took their seats. It looked like they had no problem adjusting to their new bodies. They probably didn't even recognize they were in a new bodies.
Maybe, I thought in a brief moment of panic, I was the only one to switch bodies?!
But no, nobody in the classroom was the same as the day before. But you could tell who was who because they had some of the same features.
Some of the guys actually made pretty girls, and vice versa.
I frowned. *Was that gay? I mean, I'm still a girl inside so technically I can still check out guys, right?*
*But then again, I'm in a guy's body, so it probably would look pretty gay.*
*Yet, it's also 2020, so there's no shame in being gay.*
*But I'm in high school, so...*
In the end, I decide to just keep a straight (no pun intended) face and just play it safe until I figured out what was going on.
A girl walked up to the seat beside me and smiled. "Hi. Is anybody sitting here."
"Nope. Oh, and love the nail polish by the way."
*Crap.*
She froze for a second, with a weird look on her face, then smiled slightly and said, "Thank you" as she sat down slowly, still staring at me.
I tried to look busy as I leaned away from her to get my notebook out of my backpack.
When I sat up straight again, she was still staring at me. "You know, most guys I know don't notice things like that," she said.
I smiled politely, not knowing what to say. The only explanation I could come up with was to lie and say, "I have a lot of sisters. They go ballistic when I don't notice things like that."
She laughed even though I didn't think I had said anything funny. "I do to my brother, too. Like if I get my hair done and he doesn't say anything about it, it drives me crazy!"
This is the part where, as a girl, I would go *Ohmygod! I know what you mean!* and then launch into my own story of a similar experience to relate.
But in my guy form, I just had to bite down on my tongue hard and just go, "Mhm." I turned back to my notebook, opened it and pretended to be testing if the pen worked.
"So, uh..." the girl asked. "What's your name?"
*Oh my god, why is this girl bothering me?*
My girl name was Mikayla, so I just went with, "Michael." I didn't look at her this time. And I kept my voice neutral, hoping she would get the hint that I kinda wanted to be left alone.
But did it work? Nope.
She said, "Aren't you going to ask me my name?"
I hufffed and looked at her. Then froze.
She was looking at me with a look I knew too well, while also twirling a lock of hair through her finge, and biting her biting lip.
She was flirting with me. But more than that, ever since I had complimented her nail polish I hadn't had a real good chance to look at her until now.
And I knew those features anyway.
Even in girl form.
It was my crush - Lance. | When René turned around for another few minutes of sleep after a way too long and late night before, she didn’t feel *that* different. Just enough for a little bit of discomfort to make itself know. She reached down to scratch, and incidentally adjust for a more comfortable positioning, only to find she was already comfortable enough there.
Slowly the fog of sleep lifted and she woke up more fully. Feeling parched, she climbed out of bed and her bare feet patted on the linoleum floor, making way for the tiles of the bathroom. A yawn rose unbidden as she passed the mirror, continuing as she plopped down onto the toilet seat. She blinked slowly, leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she did her business, and only realised something was off when her bare breasts slapped against her triceps.
She blinked a couple times more as the fog dissipated more fully.
“Oh.”
She sighed.
“Oh fuck.”
————
After taking the time to clean herself up, and a few minutes spent inspecting her changed body, René was ready for the day. Sure, the jeans were a bit tight at the hips, but at least the dress shirts fit if somewhat loosely. Still, if she wanted to be presentable at work she’d need a bra, otherwise, given René’s former experience, someone was bound to ogle her and/or comment on it. Thankfully a boutique was on her commute, so she left a little early to get something to bridge the time before she’d be able to get fitted properly.
She scrolled down the news as she waited on the bus. According to the news the change had happened 2:23 a.m. Pacific, which was thankfully at night for much of the Americas, cutting down on the accidents and crashes to be expected in such an event, but the other continents were harder struck. The heavily patriarchal societies in particular were dealing with a lot of confusion, soon to be escalating into riots, René suspected, but before she could read further she was at the store.
Where she saw no-one. “Hello?” She called out.
Still nothing. She raised her voice.
“Hello?!”
There was noise from a back room, followed by two clerks coming to greet her, a man and a woman, both in their early twenties. Asking younger people for help always made René nervous, but she’d have to shoulder through this.
“W-what can I help you with?” The man asked. He was tall, handsome, clean shaven, and shaking with nerves. His name tag said ERIC◼︎, but the last letter was indecipherably scribbled over.
René hesitated for a moment. Should she really ask a man for advice to help with a bra? She stole a glance at the woman clerk sorting through the male sportswear. Even if she was uncomfortable with it, when asking a woman she had always felt less… affected by it. But then again, ‘she’ was less likely to be able to help her than Eric here was, right?
“Uh, hello Eric…a?”
The clerk exhaled with relief. “Yes?”
“As you can see,” René waved down her front, “I have a problem. Could you please help me with it? I got only a few minutes to spare, so speed is of the essence for now, but if you or a …knowledgable colleague would be here for the closing shift, I’d come back after my work and buy a more fitting and complete set.”
“Yes ma’m, I’ll be able to help you there. I-I assume you don’t know your measurements?”
“I don’t.”
“Then I suggest we go to the changing rooms.” Eric picked up a few bras as they passed that aisle, then gave René a once over. After getting her consent to be touched, he prodded her here and there to get a rough idea of her measurements.
“Here, try this one and this one.”
“Uh…” René, having removed her dress shirt, stood topless in front of the slightly reddening clerk. She’d never needed to *put on* a bra. “*How* do I do that?”
Eric quickly took the bra she’d been holding and exchanged it for another model.
“Here, this one has a front clasp.”
René managed to put it on after the third try and closed the clasp.
“It’s poking my sternum.”
“Trust me, I know.”
“It’s also a bit loose.”
“Turn around, please. Usually you can adjust the width on the back, but the front-closing bras can be tricky. There, that should do it.”
René turned around, moving and swinging her arms slightly to get a feel for it.
“It’s a bit uncomfortable and stiff. Is that normal?”
“Yes, but you get used to it.”
She furrowed her brows. “You shouldn’t need to.”
“Well,” Erica said absentmindedly as he tried to adjust the bra’s fit, “it’s a man’s world out there and we women gotta deal with it.”
“Well, if really everyone was affected, I suspect there’ll be a lot less of dealing with it and more changing in the near future; it won’t be a man’s world for much longer.”
————
**How fitting** (850 words) | 2020-02-27T03:47:30 | 2020-02-27T03:20:22 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] Decades ago, Earth sent a capsule into space filled with bits about our culture. Today, it returned tampered with. It contained a note, "Your unassuming biological weapon was effective, indeed. As the last remaining member of my species, I'm returning the favor."
This is my first post on this sub and I'm not a frequent poster on any sub at that. So I hope you all like this prompt and get creative with it. If it sucks, glad to know I need to improve.
Edit: thank you guys so much responding and for the silvers. I've never had awards before. I've always liked to lurk on this sub and I'm glad my first post was so well received. Thank you! | "Your unassuming biological weapon was effective, indeed. As the last remaining member of my species, I'm returning the favor."
Xing read over the note again, as he stared at the capsule crashed in the woods behind his house. Biological weapon? This thing only had some old photo albums, cassette tapes, bunch of Grandpa shit. No bio weapons. And what did he mean "return the favor."?
Xing turned the note over to see a second piece written on the back, in words that shifted as he looked at them, changing from a bizzare alien script to standard cantonese. but stopped reading when he heard the chirping.
From inside the capsule a melody could be heard, soft and spritely and welcoming. Xing looked inside, dug through the tumbled mass of photo albums records and history books, and found a small creature buried underneath.
It was the size of a house cat, but had arms and legs like a human. Proportionaly, it was really closer to a human baby, with large eyes that glimmered in the moonlight, and massive ears that blended qualities of a cat and a rabbit. The creature chirped happily, and reached out as if wanting to be picked up.
Xing cuddled the eager creature, hugging it close before he realized what he was doing. It was an incredibly snuggly and affectionate animal, and it purred as it nestled in Xing's arms.
Carefully, Xing knelt down to pick up the paper again, reading the opposite side.
"Please take this "gift" with our "blessing", Humanity. Just be careful not to break the rules. Wouldn't want anything to befall you, now would we? Ha ha.
1. Never expose it to the sun.
2. Never let it get wet.
3. Never feed it after midnight.
Good luck, you monsters." | I examine the contraption that lay before me. The copper plates were disfigured and warped, with some sort of green glow being emitted from within the capsule. The re-entry had destroyed, or rather, melted most other distinguishing features from the once detailed capsule. I can see most of the surrounding city from the rooftop where the capsule crashed; besides the occasional flash of a camera from an apartment window it seems most have listened to the evacuation order.
I glance down at the helmet that lay at my feet, not the kind I usually wear but this situation calls for the best of the best. A chuckle escapes my mouth as I carefully scrutinize all the straps on my bomb suit, I wonder if it will be any use in the eyes of an alien bio-weapon. I try not to think too much about that though, you can't really, not in this line of work. Taking one last breath of fresh air I slowly lower the helmet over my head. My visor is instantly alive with various icons and instrument readings. I quickly scan over them as I approach the capsule. Radiation ... none, air toxicity ... none; as I examine the rest of the instrument readings I realize there are zero traces of chemical compounds of any kind. This doesn't make sense, how can this be a bio-weapon?
Now within an arms reach of the capsule, I closely examine the interior. The green glow appears to be pulsating, slowly transitioning between various shades of radioactive green. Upon closer inspection the source reveals itself, there appears to be a cylindrical device, about the size of a baseball, protruding out of the interior of the capsule, surprisingly it is completely undamaged from the stress of re-entry.
I slowly reach into the capsule before abruptly halting. The pulsating stops. Without even breathing I slowly retract my hand. The sound of hissing fills my ears as what appears to be an opening is exposed in the alien object. I hold my breath as something begins to emerge from the opening. It's green, it glows, it appears to be moving. It looks almost human if a human were the size of a golfball. I struggle to comprehend what I'm looking at, are those, eyes? The small green figure examines its surroundings, it appears to almost ... smile. I glance around nervously and slowly resume my retreat. Green substance emerges from the bottom of the creature, slowly spreading to the surrounding interior. The creature is unmoving and appears to maintain it's malicious smile. Slowly backing away I notice the green substance begins to spread outside of the capsule. As I slowly move backward some of it gets stuck to my boot, it's heavy, very heavy. I scrape it onto the floor and return my attention to the capsule. Except, there is no more capsule, I look in horror as I see the creature, now a hundred times the size, laughing now, a bone-chilling laugh that sends shivers down my spine. Fuck this. I whip around and break into a run, I make it about ten steps before I trip over something. I look down and realize in panic it was my leg, or, what used to be my leg. The green substance had returned and completely engulfed the majority of my leg. It appears to be consuming everything around it. Surprisingly I feel no pain as the green substance spreads further up my body; I collapse onto the ground and it all makes sense, there was no bio-weapon, the last of their species, that ... the creature, was the bio-weapon. | 2020-04-13T13:32:15 | 2020-04-13T11:44:55 | 540 | 166 |
[WP] A new shop shows up in town. Upon entering the walls are made entirely of drawers, each with a different personality trait written on them. The shopkeeper smiles- "Buy as many as you like, but no returns." | "Buy as many as you like, but no returns."
"....I'm sorry?" Damien asks. "Are you saying I can buy a personality?"
The shopkeeper smiles even wider. "Not just *a* personality. You can get as many as you want! You can mix them, you can replace them, you can give them as gifts! They're completely at your disposal -- just never return them."
"Ah... ok...."
"I'll just show you around, sir. It'll help you decide," the shopkeeper says, pushing Damien forward. "Here," he gestures to some brightly colored yellow boxes, "are the goofy, fun, partying personalities. If your friends constantly complain that you ruin the mood, wreck the party, here is the personality for you!"
Damien nods, a little hesitant. It's not like he had many friends to begin with, so was this really necessary?
Seeing his hesitation, the shopkeeper moves on. "Here, we have our professional collection." Damien lightly runs his palm over the surface of the black drawers, enjoying the soft touch of velvet. "If you're looking for a job, I recommend this. You'll stay serious, focused, and blow the interviewers away with your delightful attitude!"
"I'll get one of these, please," Damien decides. It's been a while since he was laid off at his last job, and his savings were running low. With 5 rejections in the last 3 months, this might just be the edge he needed for his next interview -- tomorrow.
"A wise decision sir. Will you be needing anything else today?" the shopkeeper asks, as he carefully removes one of the professional personalities boxes from the drawer.
Damien hesitates as a shadow of doubt passes over him. *Do personalities even work this way?* Whatever. Try it out first then decide.
"Not today, thanks. How much will the, um, professional personality cost?"
The shopkeeper inspects him closely. A moment passes, and he smiles. "The first one will be on the house. We hope to see you again!" He hands Damien the box and waves cheerily as he leaves. "He'll come back, I'm sure of it," he whispers. "Don't you agree?"
The next morning Damien dons his best suit and fixes his tie in the mirror. He eyes "professional" still sitting on his desk, untouched. He reads the instructions: *Open box to activate personality. Tap on the lid 3 times and close the box to deactivate.* Seems simple enough. He opens the box.
Surprisingly to Damien, the interview goes flawlessly. He smoothly answers questions that he normally would stumble on, avoids the questions on his previous mishaps, and passionately pushes for his strengths. The interviewer smiles frequently, giving Damien that extra boost of confidence he needed. He leaves the interview feeling pretty confident. Perhaps he would stop by the shop again and get another personality, perhaps one that would help him make new friends, get a girlfriend, become more popular, more confident, more sincere... the possibilities were endless.
The bell rings as Damien steps inside the store.
"Welcome, sir. I see you have returned," The shopkeeper greets him. "Are you looking for something specific today?"
"I would like something that would help me make friends," Damien requests. "Uh, could I also ask your name? I didn't get it last time..."
"Of course. My name is Sebastian. Now, if you'll follow me," He says, guiding Damien towards a colorful wall of drawers. "Here we have confidence, in the orange, kindness, the purple one, sensitivity, in lavender, outgoing, in the vibrant green box there, cheerful in the blue box..." He pauses. "Anything you'd be interested in?"
"What's the red box?"
He laughs. "It's best to find friends before you start pursuing romance, sir."
Damien turns red. "Maybe next time," he jokes. "For now, I think I'd like to take.... confidence and outgoing?"
Damien walks out of the shop feeling happier with his new purchase. They were fairly cheap, less than 10 dollars each. Could they be a fraud? But nothing worked quite like them.
Over the next year, Damien found a stable job, an excellent group of friends, and a loving girlfriend. He also added many more personalities to his collection, now all stacked against his wall. His personalities were neatly organized and labeled (he had collected "responsibility"), and he always kept track of which one he was using. The shy, uncertain Damien from before was nowhere to be seen.
One day, Damien returns from a date with his girlfriend, still giddy inside from the amusement park. As he goes to deactivate "affectionate," he discovers "professional" open. He panics. *Had he been using professional this entire time? Did his girlfriend notice anything unusual? Now that he thinks about it, wasn't she smiling a little less?* He rushes out the door, heading for the personality shop.
"Hello Damien, welcome --" Sebastian gets cut off.
"Please, help! Isn't there something wrong? I was using 'professional' -- at least I think I was -- when I meant to use 'affectionate', and maybe I ruined the date? Sebastian, help! I have 'responsibility,' this couldn't have happened! Sebastian...." Damien moans.
Sebastian smiles, a little more seriously and sadly, and less cheerful than before. "Well, I knew it would happen eventually." Damien looks confusedly at him. "Did you really think we could sell personalities?"
Damien nods.
"Not quite. We only sell what you believe in. If you believe in our product, you believe in yourself. It's a placebo," Sebastian explains.
"So you mean, none of this was real?" He asks shakily.
"No. All of it was real. The shop was just meant to bring it out. Everything, your confidence, your affection, cheerfulness, was inside you. They're all real, they're all *you*." | The drawers I'd taken from the shop were somehow the same exact size, albeit different types of wood, as those in my apartment's existing set. Perfect replacements.
Breathlessly, I slid one drawer out at a time, until they sat as a pile of three old crates on my bedroom carpet.
Then, I pushed in the first new drawer.
&#x200B;
\---
&#x200B;
I'd lived in Barcelona for most of my life, ever since Mom died and Dad moved us back to his home country. That first year, as I learned the language and grieved in the way of a child, I thought I'd explored every nook and cranny the ancient city hid, probed every cobbled side-street.
And yet, I'd somehow never noticed this street before.
I'd stopped to watch a mime act on La Rambla; a painted lady crouched and afraid of an invisible box that seemed to be shrinking, slowly crushing her. On the wall of the building behind her, loomed a strange patch of darkness. It almost floated against the brick, and each time I glanced at it, seemed to have breezed just a little further along.
As the mime curled up into a scared ball with no room left to move, my eyes must have adjusted to the patch of darkness, because the black gave way just enough to see what was hidden within.
The darkness was in fact a thin strip of cobbled street that carved itself away from La Rambla, covered by tall, almost impenetrable shadows of the shops and apartments abutting it. A little side-street I'd somehow, in all my explorations, never before noticed. Too thin of a street for any shops to be located on it. Perhaps only good for a shortcut through to the main street adjacent.
Still, a tiny ember of excitement burned in my chest; memories of years ago when we'd first moved here. Of finding mouth dropping wonders and heart stopping scares in the smallest and least seen areas of the great city.
I walked towards the alley, about to slide into the darkness, when the mime -- suddenly free of her box -- jumped in front of me, hands out, eyes wide.
I admit that I stepped back, breath hitched in my throat.
"Disculpe?" I said, regaining my composure. *Excuse me?*
The mime shook her head and pointed to the alley behind her.
"You don't want me to go?" I asked, frowning. "Why?"
She mouthed a single shape. *Don't*, or perhaps *won't*.
Suddenly, it struck me -- I'd watched her performance for a number of minutes and hadn't reimbursed her for her art. I fished a few coins from out of my coat and dropped them into her empty hat.
I nodded, wished her a good day, then pushed past into the alley.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
The only object in the alleyway, at least that I could find, was a single arched, wooden door, about half-way down and on my left-hand side. Perhaps further doors hid in the darkness, but this door shone like a distant star. Pale light flickered out from beneath and from out of long-weathered cracks in the wood. It provided just enough light to see the lopsided sign that hung on it: *Open*.
What, I wondered, was a shop doing down this tiny, almost impossible to find, alleyway? Surely nothing good, I considered. That's why it was here, not attracting any attention to itself. A shop of surreptitious curiosities, best avoided by those not looking for it.
But it was an unknown, a mystery, and I'd sorely lacked any mystery since leaving school and starting work at the firm, turned into just another cog churning out research papers.
I opened the door. A deeper light spilled out onto the street and a shrill little bell sounded above me, like the sound of a bluebird whistling in spring.
"Hello?" I said, stepping inside through a twirl of dust motes caught in draft and light. "Is anyone here?"
No one was.
The shop was square with odd wooden walls. For a moment, I thought it sold handles. Handles for doors, maybe, as they dangled everywhere, each a different color and material -- iron, copper, gold, a dozen types of wood. Then I noticed the rectangular slits around each of those handles. They were *drawers*. Every wall was made up of a hundred or so drawers.
*What a bizarre shop*.
A single desk stood wonky in the centre of the room, one leg heavily uneven. Three candles, thick and half melted, flickered on the desk. In front of them lay a single piece of paper. I picked up the note and read.
*"Welcome, Daniel. The shop has been expecting you for so many years now. We really thought you'd find us sooner. But never mind! You're not too old for our wares, not yet!"*
That... That was a coincidence. That's all it was. There were many, many Daniels, even in Barcelona. The note had been left for one of them.
I read on.
*"You may take as many drawers as you wish -- but a word (two, in fact!) of advice: pick wisely. Each drawer is as different as a human thought and in course you'll find that out. But* ***do*** *pick at least one. Do not waste this opportunity. That, I implore you. The cost of a drawer is free for now, but will become apparent in time. I am afraid we offer no returns. \~ E. E. Elander."*
&#x200B;
\---
&#x200B;
I pushed the second and third drawer into the set in my apartment. Green, blue, red. Each with contrasting metal handles.
Why had I been so scared of... of *drawers*? Perhaps because I felt as if I'd stolen them from that little shop. Perhaps I had stolen them. I hadn't paid for them, after all, and yet here they were.
I watched them for a while, each now pushed plush into the set, my eyes not wanting to leave them for even a moment. They were exotic and pretty, carved immaculately. Their hues seemed to brighten as the sun fell outside my apartment. What curious little carriages they were. What would I put in them? It would have to be something worthy of their craft.
I soon found I'd been wrong in believing them a perfect fit. I must have jammed them in, as they didn't open no matter how much I tugged and persuaded them. Eventually, and with much anxiety about damaging their fine grains, I took a knife from my kitchen and tried to lever the top drawer out. But the knife only bent and became useless.
As my apartment fell to the sunset, I decided to leave the for the night. I had work the next morning, after all.
&#x200B;
It was deep in the night, far past the witching hour, when I woke. Heart thudding loudly in my ear.
*Thump*
*Thump*
*Thump*
Fast and rhythmic.
*Thump*
*Thump*
*Thump*
No... the sound wasn't right.
It wasn't my heart. The knocking was that of something hard against wood.
I turned on the little lamp by my bed.
The green drawer, my new top drawer, was trembling with each knock. Was almost... glowing.
It wanted me to open it.
Or perhaps something wanted to get out. | 2020-04-21T01:30:40 | 2020-04-20T23:42:12 | 246 | 43 |
[WP] You die every time you use your short distance teleportation spell. You know this because of the short bone-chilling scream of pain and agony from your previous self. You've made peace with this, and mastered it. At least until the spell ranked up, and no longer killed you. | It was a trick from the beginning. The demon who'd taught me the spell said there was a catch, but if you're a sorcerer and young and stupid, you figure you can handle it.
You can't handle dying.
Every time, I die. Another me is created. The one that cast is consumed. Flames. Heat. The smell of burning flesh. Nothing left but ash. And then the new me goes on living.
That's the price of teleportation. Turns out, both fortunately and unfortunately, there's not a lot of reason to teleport in the streets of Atlanta.
The first couple of times, I figured it was worth it to steal a fortune for new me. I tried to convince myself that everything just transferred. The dead man whose charred bones I walked away from was me but so was the new body. I tried not to consider that I would be a new man, just with some other guy's saved game in my head.
I think it was the fourth time I did it, when I escaped getting plowed into by a semi by popping myself onto the side of the road, that I stayed around long enough to watch myself burn. I saw the pleading look in my living reflection. It was horrifying.
I couldn't convince myself anymore.
I dove into the metaphysics of it all. I tried to tear the spell apart. I learned dead languages. I made bargains with spirits. I consulted with covens and bartered with hedge witches.
Seven years, about 30 deaths later, I found my answer. Change two words and the price goes to zero.
I walked out to my deck. I stood on the concrete stones and prayed. It was time to put it all to the test.
I said the incantation. I made the gestures. I felt the tingling and then... I went nowhere.
I looked across the lawn. I'd planned to arrive with my back to myself; I couldn't look into those dying eyes even one more time. Instead, now, I was looking at my back.
The new me turned around. He looked at me and said, "It... worked?"
"Maybe, but we need to refine it-"
"Shut up. There can't be two of us. It breaks... everything."
"I know. Magic can't create something ex-nihilo. There's got to be a sacrifice."
"So what did we... did you... sacrifice?"
Both of us got that look that my ex described as, "Lightbulb."
We went back to my basement sanctum. We researched. It should have worked.
That's when we saw the story on the news about a case of spontaneous human combustion in China.
I can't say I'm proud of the smile I saw on New Me's face.
"We can't." I said.
"Can't we?"
I couldn't believe that I... that he was considering it. I suddenly knew that some part of him didn't have the conscience I'd grown. If I didn't do something, he'd turn into a true monster. I reached for a knife and heard him say the words before I could use it to shatter this dark reflection.
He died, but with a smile on his face, bleeding out from my blade.
My life changed then.
I moved from city to city, hunting my self. No, my selves. I became legion. The spell was used over and over again. More and more cases of people dying in fire. More and more attention drawn to the incidents. More running. More telepotrations. More replicas of my foolishness, minus my regret.
Where I could, I took them. I locked them down in cages of spellcraft, but they were as clever as I was and there were more of them. Nothing I tried held them for long. I used more crude methods. Guns. Fire. Still, the number of me grew.
Governments sent agents who were turned cold by a dozen of me at a time. Then came armies. The dark me's would just create armies of their own.
Now, I stand on balconies some times and see nothing but a sea of my face. I am seventy percent of the people on the planet. I don't know what happens if they run out of new... components. Not that there's much need.
I survive only because I am indistinguishable.
I know there's an end. A cure.
I just don't know if my other me's know that, too, standing over it.
Waiting. | **\[Part 1/2\]**
It hadn't been easy, but Ayon had made peace with it. The scream of pain and terror. The tears. The cries. The agony of his previous self, each time he used his teleportation spell. But he had made peace with that. It was, in definitive, a small price to pay, for the ability to move freely across the Known Universe. Many would have killed for such a gift. In fact, many had threatened to kill him if he didn't share his secret, but the truth was, there was no secret to be shared. One just had to be particularly gifted in magic, and a tad crazy, to try and hopefully succeed in casting the spell that would grant them these teleportation abilities. Ayon was simply both - or so he thought.
On this fine afternoon of Jylluny, in Terriza's busy capital, Ayon was closing his travel bag. He had spent a few days in Alotizza, visiting some old friends, but he had been called elsewhere, for more professional business. A powerful warlock like him was always needed somewhere, especially in times like these, when the relationships with Atlaka, the neighboring space-kingdom, were at the tensest. Even a powerful warlock like Ayon could only ignore royal orders for so long.
"Here we go, then!" he said to the empty room. And he snapped his fingers.
*Darkness. Cold.* Up until now, everything was unfolding normally. But then, he felt something. Something strange. It started with a sharp sting, in his right palm. Then, the sting crawled its way up. By the time it reached his heart, the pain was almost unbearable. Ayon, tears running down his face, fingers clawing at his chest, heard a screaming. And, this time, it was his. Panic ran through his veins, challenging the pain. He felt himself disappearing. *How could it be?*
But, suddenly, everything stopped. The pain vanished. The darkness cleared. The air warmed up. He felt solid ground under him. Solid, dusty, and warm. He had arrived at his destination. But how?
Still shocked and sore, he didn't move right away. *What had just happen?* The only screams and tears had been his own. For a moment, he had felt himself vanishing! Yet, that was impossible! He died during his teleportation, indeed! But by the time he expired, he was already
born anew! Therefore, only his previous selves disappeared. Not himself! *How could this be? What had happened?*
But, then again, he had arrived at his destination, and, already, he could see a small group of soldiers marching towards him. He was expected.
The Prince wanted Ayon to advise him on military strategy, regarding the magical squadron – the M-Squad, an elite team everyone wanted to see in Ayon's hands, but the warlock always refused. Dodging and declining multiple recruitment advances, Ayon began to work, studying battle plans and Magicals' profiles. He hated this part of the job - or, more exactly, this part of being one of the most, or if not the most, powerful warlock in existence across the Known Universe. Plus, while he would never have admitted it, he was still troubled by what had happened. For a few days, he toyed with whether or not trying to teleport again, to see if it would happen again. He knew he should try, on a small distance, within controlled parameters, but – though, once again, he would never have admitted it – he was sacred. Scared of the unbearable pain. Scared of dying.
For the first time, Ayon did everything he could to prolong his stay at the Prince’s headquarters, but after almost a week, he was out of excuses. Staying more than a couple of days longer would necessarily arise a suspicion. *Ayon the Great, staying with royals.* His peers and competitors would begin gossiping, and it would be bad for business. The downside of being the most powerful warlock: the importance of your reputation. A change in people’s opinions about you, and life could get very difficult.
The last night before his departure, Ayon, despite his fears, decided to try teleportation again. In the confined space of his room, he would try to teleport himself from the bathroom to his bed. Nothing too big, nothing too tiring. Everything would be under control.
He cast the spell. *Darkness. Cold.* And then, a sting. Dammit! Larger and larger. More and more painful. Fuck! I was worse than last time. An inarticulate scream scratched his throat and exploded in the empty bedroom, but the warlock didn’t even hear it. His ears were buzzing, his entire being was burning, he couldn’t breathe. *He was dying.*
But, once again, everything stopped. A soft and cozy thing supported his sore body. He was in his bed, he has made it. *But, at what price?*
Suddenly, there were knocks on the door. Alarmed.
“Warlock Ayon! Are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m fine, thank you!”
But it wasn’t fine. Or, at least, he wasn’t fine. Perhaps the person who had answered was, but, he definitively wasn’t.
“Oh, come on! Don’t look at me like that! It hurts, I’ll grant you that, but it’s not as if you died!”
Properly shocked, Ayon could only stare at this… this… *person*… in the bathroom. This person, who was his spitting image. Same trait, same voice, same apparent demeanor.
“Who… Who are you?”
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
**\[Rest in the comment! Enjoy!\]** | 2021-08-25T09:46:17 | 2021-08-25T09:08:36 | 28 | 12 |
[WP] "Sanctuary," the child cried running into the library "Nice try," the guard following after sneered, "but only holy places can grant sanctuary." The librarians glanced at each other. A small nod The head librarian gave the guard a stern look. "Sanctuary granted" | "Sanctuary!" cried the child with a desperate sob as it ran into the library.
The ancient word fills my veins with fire for the first time in too many years. I stand as the guard follows. No. They were called "police" now. I need to remember that. "Nice try," said the guard with a sneer on his face. "But only holy places can grant sanctuary."
Aaliyah, the youngest, looks to me with confusion. The others look to me with glee and satisfaction. They know what's coming. I nod to our youngest and stand. I gather the weight of the thousands of words housed in this small building and say, "Sanctuary granted."
The guard--no, the *policeman* stops. Confusion crosses his face as he tries to figure out what his hind brain has already known. "This is a library." The words were said tentatively, hesitantly. He scowled as he tried to ignore the tiny part of his brain screaming at him to run.
I smile. It really *has* been too long. "This is sacred ground," I tell him. "You are in the temple of Seshat, and we are all Her acolytes." I move out from behind the desk and glare at the man. He tries to bluster, tries to gain hold of the child--but Aaliyah has already grabbed them. Good. "The child has claimed sanctuary," I repeat.
"Seshat has no temples."
I can feel the stirrings in the other world as They look down on us. They are watching, waiting--and weighing. "Oh, no?" I ask coldly. I reach out and grip the air before rending apart the veil between our world and Theirs. The guard--no, he's not a guard, he's a *policeman*\--get your head straight, it shouldn't be this hard--goes white at the sight of Ammit's crocodile maw. The goddess hisses at him. I can hear Her words.
*"It is not yet his time."*
I nod and close the veil. The *policeman* collapsed, shaking, to the floor. Wetness spread from his crotch. Looking the Devourer in the face will do that to a person, I suppose. He stammered before turning, lurching semi on his feet, and leaving the building as fast as he could go. I turn back to the acolytes. "Please," I say, "summon one of the custodians to deal with the mess the *policeman* left." Ah, finally. I finally remember the term.
One of the acolytes scurry off as Aaliyah looks to me. "Pardon, Holiness," she said.
"Yes?" I ask. I smile to the child who gives a timid, worried smile back.
"The term is police *officers* now."
Dammit. | "Granted?" The guard furrowed his brow, confused. "My ass is holier than this place. I don't care what you say, I'm still taking him in."
Timmy squirreled behind the old lady. He thought this was a temple from the way it looked on the outside. Its white cement, mighty pillars, and vaulted ceiling made it seem like a holy place. Timmy had never felt more foolish in his life. The old lady was nice enough to humor him, but what was she going to do? Throw books at the guard?
"I suggest you reconsider," said the old lady, in a low authoritative tone. "You might end up regretting it."
"Like hell I will! That brat's a criminal!"
"Shh!" commanded the old lady.
The guard shut his mouth.
"You're disturbing the people here. If you keep this up, I'll have no choice but to kick you out."
The guard scoffed. "I'd like to see you..." His voice was barely a whisper now, and he acted surprised by it, almost like he didn't mean it. "What did you..."
The old lady smirked. "I did nothing. Your spirit seems to be respecting the laws of this place."
The guard frowned.
"Tell me, what did this child do to earn your wrath?"
"That urchin spoke when he shouldn't have," said the guard, still whispering. "If you make fun of the guards, you make fun of the king, and if you make fun of the king, you're making fun of the gods."
The librarian eyed the young boy with a discerning look.
Timmy made himself small. Was she going to hand him over?
"So you *do* understand the value of words?" asked the librarian.
The guard squinted. "What?"
"He said something dangerous, right? I take it he used words to do so."
"Well, yes, but I fail to see how that's relevant."
"I think it's very relevant. If words can bring down a kingdom, and even affect the gods, are they not worth revering?"
"I... No. This is stupid. Give me the child, or you'll go to jail too."
The librarian narrowed her eyes.
The guard paused.
Timmy couldn't believe it. The old lady was actually intimidating him.
The guard drew his sword, but he couldn't keep it still, trembling.
The other librarians gasped, scared for their leader. The old lady, however, didn't even flinch at the weapon.
The guard rushed forward, screaming in a paradoxical whisper:
"Then die!"
Timmy shrunk back, fearing the worst. This was the scariest moment of his life.
The librarian's eyes glowed white with energy as a gale of wind surrounded her. Before the guard could reach her, an invisible force pushed him out the doors and sent him tumbling down the marble steps.
Timmy widened his eyes in awe. "That was incredible!"
"Shh!"
Timmy winced. He didn't mean to raise his voice.
"Don't worry, little one. He can't hurt you anymore. Are you wounded?"
Timmy shook his head.
"Good. I'm afraid you won't be able to leave for a while. Not until that blockhead moves on to something else."
Timmy shyly raised his hand.
"Yes?"
"Umm... why did you help me? I don't want to lie; I didn't even know this place was holy until now."
The old librarian chuckled. "That's alright. Myths have been a refuge for humanity since the dawn of time. They're our only way of reaching the divine in this mortal realm. Libraries are meant to protect them, just as they have protected us. You should feel free to use words to empower yourself. They're the ultimate equalizer when facing a tyrant, and it is my duty to defend that."
Timmy smiled. "Thank you, ma'am."
"Don't thank me just yet. We have a lot of chores for you while you stay."
Timmy grew pale. "Chores?"
"What? You think I'd let you stay here for free?"
Timmy started to regret ever entering this place. That said, despite the monotonous work, this ended up being one of his most precious memories from childhood, and it was thanks to it that he became a librarian himself.
---------
>If you enjoyed this, check out /r/WeirdEmoKidStories for more. Thanks for reading! | 2022-07-06T06:29:23 | 2022-07-06T05:35:09 | 2,393 | 971 |
[WP] The young woman had spoken to everyone in town, asking them to teach her to fight. The warrior, the hunter, the knight, all had declined. Finally, in desperation, she spoke to the dwarven blacksmith. Lowering his massive hammer he looked at the fire in her eyes and said "Aye. I could do that." | The air was filled with a metalic bang as hammer struck steel again and again. Sparks flew, but the dwarf stood unflinchingly, striking his rythm into the anvil. The rythm slowed and stalled until the dwarf let his hammer rest. Plunging the blade into water, a geyser of steam filled the room with a light haze. When it cleared, a young woman stood before him.
She was elven, of that he was certain. The pointed ears and slight androgyny were telltale signs. The clothes she wore were elegant. More than a commoner could afford, but by no means a noble attire. Yet despite the fine clothing, her skin showed signs of labor. Calloused hands and a tan sun-baked face belied her seeming wealth.
He flipped the lenses of his goggles up to get a better look at her. “What d’ya want?”
“My name is Alba. I was told you’re a local smithy, but have some combat experience?” She asked.
“Aye. Was a soldier in my twenties. Adventurer in my thirties. Now I smith. Name’s Vráchos.” He was short but not unkind in his speech.
Alba grinned at his response. “Wonderful news! Can you teach me to fight?” She bounced eagerly on the balls of her feet.
“Ask the Warrior.” Was all he said before returning his attention to the now cool blade in his hand.
“I did.” She protested. “He said he doesn’t teach my kind.”
“The Hunter?”
“Too young.”
“The Knight?” He quirked his brow.
“Too female.”
Vráchos grumbled. “Yer an elf, a woman, and practically a child.”
“I’m twenty-two, I’m not-“
He held his hand up to quiet her. “And those damned fools won’t teach ya to defend yerself. But that didn’t stop ya, did it?”
“No sir! And if you won’t teach me, I’ll keep looking. Someone will.” Her voice was hard as the steel he forged.
“Aye, I could do that.”
It took a moment for the news to register. Her mouth hung open in disbelief. “You’ll teach me?”
He simply nodded.
Before he knew what happened, he was pulled into an unexpected embrace. Alba wrapped her arms as best she could around his stocky frame, burrying her face in the bushy and singed beard.
“Excited I see.” Vráchos patted the young woman on the back. “Come by tomorrow and we’ll get started. Every other day after that.”
“Thank you.” She said, muffled by the dwarf.
“Aye, thank me when yer able to kick my ass.” | The night's darkness plagued the town of Terbarrow, dim lanterns illuminating the gloomy streets. Everyone had gone to their homes and fallen asleep by now and cleared the pathways of the town, everyone but a ghostly figure. The ghoul wandered the streets, checking through all the windows and entering the empty pubs. A glow appeared from the mountain overlooking the town, somehow signaling the ghost to come to it. A flash of light later, and the figure was gone, leaving a mess of cups and beer in the taverns. Leaving one witness to tell the story....
Once the sun arrived, everyone awoke and got ready for the day ahead. Beatrice hadn't gotten any sleep after the ghostly sighting last night and got dressed tiredly. She feared the being but assumed she must have been dreaming or imagining things. She walked out the door and started walking to her job as a waitress at a tavern in town.
Once she arrived, she was surprised by the lack of a line out the door, but thought nothing of it, even though it was the most popular pub in town. She walked inside, only to find her boss on the floor, mumbling about a mess. The building indeed was a mess, mead and beer spilled on the walls, cups hanging from the chandelier, and a table being burnt in the firepit. Beatrice asked her boss, Ivor, what happened "What in the name of Ysloda happened here?! Are you okay?" "No, I think a bear must've gotten in through a window.", Ivor said, gesturing to the broken window by the door. Beatrice knew this wasn't the work of an animal, and she came to the conclusion that what she saw the other night was no dream or hallucination.
She sprinted outside, rushing to the town hall to inform the mayor. She bursted through the doors and informed the mayor of his sighting. "Mr. McDeli, you have to believe me! We're all in great danger! Explain the trashed taverns!", she yelled. "I've examined every tavern and it's clearly the works of a wild animal, bear, deer, or wolf. You must have been dreaming last night! I have no likes for lying gossipers trying to start drama. Guards, show her out, please." The mayor replied. Beatrice pleaded with him as the guards threw her out and locked the big brass doors.
She, not excepting defeat, asked around for fight training, if the mayor wouldn't address this threat, she will. She started at the hunting lodge, asking the hunter, but he refused. She then made her way to the guard barracks and the knights said no. She visited a retired warrior, but he refused to as well.
As a last hope, she visited the Dwarf at his forge. "Hello, miss, how may I help you? Necklace, earing, maybe a bracelet?" He asked her as she walked up the steps to his porch. "Fight training, do you sell that?" She replied. The dwarf looked up from his work and was about to say no, but noticed her stance and the look in her eyes. Lowering his hammer, he said "Aye, I could do that."
"Good, I tried warning the mayor of a possible threat and was brushed off, I fear that his inaction could be the downfall of this town. I witnessed a ghostly figure trash the taverns and fly up to a glow on top of the mountain." "Well, that's quite the imagination, young lady." "It was no dream! Say, the dwarves used to have a city in the mountains. Do you have any tales from when you lived there? legends, myths, stories, anything?" "Well, when I was a little lad, I heard stories of a beast lurking in the mountain, sending ghostly messengers to scout out the lands he wishes to conquer.... actually, you might be on to something there." "See, I told you I wasn't lying!" "Yes, you did, and if you wish to protect this town, you came to the right blacksmith. I can teach you all you need to know."
The dwarf asked for Beatrice to hand him a map on the shelf behind her and introduced himself an Baloff. "Meet me tonight with a cup of mead and I'll show you the basics of fighting.
(WIP) | 2022-08-28T10:45:05 | 2022-08-28T10:43:06 | 86 | 19 |
[Wp] Write a story that will make me question my morality.
Write a story that is so shocking it will make me question my morality.
Edit: Wow.
| “Five minutes to choose, Charlie. Make it a good one,” the voice cackled.
The seconds ticked mercilessly downwards. His wrists burned against the restraints as his hands strained to stay away from the two glowing red buttons that stared at him from beneath the clock. To his right was his daughter, Anna, gagged and bound to the chair. She had stopped struggling, stopped screaming through the gag. She just looked at him, eyes red from crying, pleading. Sturdy electrical wires connected the table in front of him to her chair.
Opposite him was a man, unshaven, unwashed, desperate. Charles could almost have been looking in a mirror, except the man didn’t have the buttons in front of him. They were his alone.
To his left was the other girl, the other man’s daughter, in another chair. She was the only one not looking at him; she was slumped against her bonds, head down, resigned, as if she knew how this was going to end. Another set of wires led to her chair.
He looked away, back down to the relentless clock and the absurdly small buttons. Each worth a life.
“Don’t do it. Don’t give him what he wants,” the man said, pulling against the straps that held him as if reaching Charles with his body would help him reach him with his words.
“Inaction is a choice Charlie,” said the voice. “A choice that kills them both. You won’t be that silly will you?”
“He won’t do it. He’s bluffing…”
Charles almost laughed at that. Almost. The other man fell silent. Anna was still looking at him.
“Her name is Rachel. She’s fifteen. She likes singing, she’s always singing, she has such a beautiful voice, and she likes science and maths and-”
“Anna doesn’t like maths,” Charles muttered, failing not to listen, failing not to think.
The man was crying now.
“Please, she’s my daughter, I love her, you can’t, please, you can’t.”
“What else can I do? What choice do I have?” Charles snapped, anger at this whole, fucked up, twisted situation suddenly finding its voice.
“She,” he gestured to his right as much as his restraints allowed, “is my daughter. I have a duty to her. I have a responsibility to protect her.”
“I have a responsibility to protect her,” he repeated quietly, as if the mantra could ward off the guilt.
He kept his gaze fixed downwards, avoiding all the eyes.
“What about my daughter? Who is going to protect her?” the man asked desperately, then choked out, “I can’t.”
“I… I have to think of my daughter first, that’s a parent’s job.”
Why was he saying this? Did he expect forgiveness?
“No, you know that’s not right, you know that’s not fair.”
Charles’ eyes betrayed him. Anna was crying again, tears rolling down her face and dripping onto the floor. He wanted to reach out and brush them away, to hold her and tell her everything would be alright.
“What else can I do?” he muttered.
“You could flip a coin,” the voice interjected, its brightness sending shivers down Charles’ spine.
“Well you can’t,” it laughed, “But I could. And I pwomise I’ll be fair.”
“That’s fair, that’s fair,” said the other man, grasping their tormentor’s suggestion like a drowning man grabbing a jackal’s proffered paw.
“No, you can’t really think… I’m not going to gamble my daughter’s life on the flip of a coin.”
But as he said it he couldn’t help but look at the other girl. Rachel had looked up, looking at him now with the faintest expression of hope.
That wasn’t fair. That wasn’t fair at all.
“Let’s see, shall we say heads Anna lives, tails Rachel lives,” the voice continued, as horrifyingly upbeat as ever.
The man looked hopeful too now. How could he possibly think this could end well for him?
“Ooh, so sorry Charlie. It’s tails.”
Of course it was tails.
He looked at Anna again. She looked shocked, and so very scared.
He looked at Rachel, the other girl. She met his gaze and averted her eyes, trying to hide her fear. She knew.
He looked at the man opposite him. He was looking at Charles more intently than ever.
“Come on, do what’s right.”
Charles slowly shook his head.
“That’s not right! That’s not fair,” the other man screamed, his voice full of anguish and despair.
Charles looked down. The clock had almost reached zero. His left hand found the button.
“I know,” he said, and pushed.
| It was the summer of 1998 when I first met Samuel. He was living under a bridge somewhere in Florida, a concrete levee where industrial waste sacrilegiously collided with a beautiful waterfront sunset distant in the horizon.
Samuel was a convicted child rapist and that made him an outcast. Like many others in his situation, he threw his lot in with other outcasts. His neighbor Harry was also a child rapist. In fact, nearly everyone living on the run-down space under that bridge was a persona non grata, an ex-con-turned-hobo with some dark criminal record buried in their past.
Some of them were disturbingly out of it--deluded or insane, whatever you want to call it. These types you could pick out right immediately; their eyes gave it away, overpowered by some instantly perceptible but inscrutable element of manic strangeness. I was wary of them, and Samuel too never seemed to keep them in close company.
What made Samuel different from them was that he wouldn't talk about the details of his crime, and it wasn't out of shame. He was neither vulgar, crass nor boorish and his gentle demeanor was exceptionally genuine. Though I was careful never to say so to him directly, he didn't *seem* like a rapist, let alone a child rapist. He had a certain purity--a certain *childlike* quality himself, as perverse and irreverent that may be. I was intensely curious about him, yet I knew I would never know the whole truth. He was a taciturn person, and his inner world was perpetually unknowable to me. I was intrigued, and so our friendship (and later correspondence) began with conversations on nearly anything else except his criminal past.
Our mutual love of animals proved to be a fertile conversation topic. Samuel had a way with them. I had once witnessed him rescue a stray kitten that had wandered into the small, squalid patch of cardboard hovels, mewling loudly as some of the more heartless occupants of the levee were kicking it about and dropping little pebbles on its head. Samuel wordlessly jostled his way through the group, looking straight down, grabbed the kitten and marched back to his hut. The tormentors were angry and approached his hut clearly looking to fight, but Samuel warded them by screaming "I will fucking kill you if you walk another goddamned step closer, you scum." He was clutching a glass shard so tightly a stream of blood was dripping down into the dirt. His other hand held the kitten. The men backed off, grumbling. I finally released by breath, and realized my back was drenched in fear-induced sweat. I was unfamiliar to--and frankly terrified by--the ways of fringe life, and the momentary conflict struck a primal fear in me. I left soon after, running and gasping for breath.
When I came back a few days afterward, the kitten was gone. Samuel told me in low tones that he had given it away to someone who could take better care of it. I was surprised, but I didn't push it any further because I saw through the soot on his face that Samuel had tears in his eyes. I later glimpsed a dated and incredibly detailed still-life sketch of the kitten, with the name "Chloe" neatly written underneath it in penciled cursive, in Samuel's notebook. But I didn't say anything.
The incident left my mind for a while, as work began to pile up. Once I had finished the article, which Samuel had read (he was an incredibly literate man, and had a tattered 1997 edition of Thomas More's *Utopia* by his sleeping bag) and diffidently thanked me for, I briefly lost contact with him until I received a phone call from the local police department.
Samuel had been killed--bludgeoned to death--in a neighboring residential village. Detective Travers, the case detective who I met with was a surly and leathery 50-something ex-military-turned-cop who spat a lot and reeked of alcohol. I instantly disliked him. Holding my breath through his account, I learned that Samuel had been killed by his victim's father--the victim in Samuel's buried history who I had been dying to know about. I was confused, and I wanted answers: why had Samuel returned to his victim's house? The authorities, it seemed, considered this a no-brainer. "Rapists will always be rapists" their skeptical eyes seemed to say...
I never got to see Samuel again. With his criminal profile, a proper funeral was laughably out of the question and I did not bother to ask. Feeling slightly guilty about my own selfish callousness at the whole situation, I nonetheless rushed to the victim's house to get an interview for a follow up piece.
The father, one Mr. Steven Rittner, a veteran longeshoreman with strikingly large forearms, had been released by the cops after questioning. The law had determined his actions were in defense of his daughter. He had since returned back home, looking haggard and distraught, but I could hardly focus during the interview. My mind kept wandering to Samuel, my eyes darting to and fro, as though I were retracing his final steps.
I could never write that follow-up, because I was hardly paying attention and because I inexplicably misplaced the voice recorder at some point on the way home. But once the interview was done, and as I was walking back to my car, I glanced back at the house. Mr. Rittner slowly walked the steps up to his front door, and just as I was about to look away, the front door opened and I caught a glimpse of a young girl with wild eyes and a frayed appearance peer outside.
Mr. Rittner glanced back nervously at me as he ushered her back inside. As they retreated into the house, I heard him say "Sweetie, make sure you take Chloe with you." I stood frozen in my steps, my mind full of questions and my hands trembling. I didn't have the heart to knock on their door again, or to subject Mr. Rittner to another battery of ultimately useless questions. I never found out exactly what happened that night Samuel died, but my guess is that he got caught on his way out.
| 2014-07-07T09:20:49 | 2014-07-07T08:01:49 | 74 | 19 |
[WP] You just got fired, you're pretty sure your girlfriend is cheating on you, you're 75k in student loans debt, rent was due last week, and to top it all off? You're all out of beer. Oddly enough, you just got an email titled "Would you like to change the difficulty? Current setting: Very Hard."
EDIT: muh front page reddit wew lad.
This blew up a lot more than I thought it would.
I'm having a great time reading the responses I even decided to add one myself in the comments. | “It’s a joke, right?” Kelly peered at my phone through her cat-eye glasses, then looked back at me. “I mean, the sender is God@jeezycreezy.eu. I feel like, I mean, the least weird thing about it is that God is emailing from the European Union. Letting alone allll of the other weirdness.”
I shook my head.
“I dunno, something about it seems real.”
“Oh, you can sense the sanctity of this holy email through your touchscreen? Look, I guarantee if you send anything back you’re going to get a request for credit card details cleverly wrapped in some super great sounding Euro-church-pyramid scheme. Sell croissants and hand-sized bibles for a profit.” Kelly handed the phone back to me, pushing her glasses back up her nose with her free hand. She leaned on the counter next to the cash register and stared at me through her thick lenses. Radiohead wailed in the background, something about a shitty day. Behind her the weak winter sunlight filtered through the patchwork of oversized band posters that covered the high windows of the shop. Someone had cut the eyes out of Snoop Dogg so that he knelt next to a lowrider, a joint in his hands and sunshine bleeding out of his pupil-less eyes.
“Kelly, at this point I think giving my credit card details to a shadowy European Church pyramid scheme could only enhance my credit score.”
“I think credit scores can go negative, Dave. Or if they can’t, then they might change the rules for you- do you want to be the first guy they do that to? Get it named after you? The ‘Dave is a self-pitying loser who replied to God’ credit score bracket?"
“Jesus, Kelly. A break?”
I slumped forward, laying the phone and my head on the display counter. The glass felt cool on my forehead and I could see through the numberless scratches to an unopened Rolling Stones vinyl, where Mick jeered at me with his knobbly claymation-looking face.
“Sorry, Dave.” She sounded genuine. “It’s just… I mean, you kind of did get yourself here. If your life is set on Very Hard, what’s a Somali refugee’s life set on? There’s no ‘Fucked Since Birth’ setting in video games, although I don’t doubt some people would want to play it if it existed. Hmmm, that might be worth writing down- a game where you have to escape your horrible birth circumstances but no matter what you do you can’t win-”
“CHELSEA WAS THE BEST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO ME” I wailed, my breath fogging the glass. Across the shop, an old guy in a furry hoodie looked over at me.
“No,” Said Kelly. I could hear the eye roll, even though I couldn’t see her. “Chelsea was the hottest thing to ever happen to you. She was also the most psychotic, and the most dramatic, and the most banging other dudes-ic.”
I let out a moan that sent the old guy with the hoodie backpeadaling for the doors.
“Sorry, sorry. It’s just, my tax dollars pay for your broke ass’ Planned Parenthood treatments and now that Chelsea’s gone and the little guy is clearing up-”
“Why do I come here, Kelly? You are the opposite of a kind old bartender with wisdom beyond his years.”
“You come here because, as I already mentioned, your ass is way more than broke. But, cheer up. I have changed my mind.”
I looked up at her.
“You should totally reply to this email. Say, ‘Yeah, thanks, I want life set to very easy, with cheat codes enabled and maybe one of those mods where everyone has a big head, like in Goldeneye.’ And then if it works, you split your easy life with me. I’ll get you to do all the stuff that’s hard and you’ll do it as a thank you for always being there for you, even when you were at your most annoyingly depressive.”
She popped her gum and shoved the phone back at me over the counter.
“I’m gonna do it.”
“Yeah, then do it.”
I slid down and sat on the ground in front of the counter, thumbs tapping away. After a few moments, I pushed send and the tinny whoosh of an un-take-backable email sounded from the phone.
“What’d you say?”
“Pretty much all of it, except for the Goldeneye stuff. I feel like, one, if it really is God, that seems rude to ask for, like I’m making fun of him and two, if it actually happens it would be super gross.”
“Pussy. Can I help you?”
The man standing in front of us was tall, easily over six feet, and entirely dressed in white. White tennies, white slacks, an incredibly soft-looking white sweater, and white sporty sunglasses pushed up on his pale forehead.
“Dave?” He asked, pointing at me on the floor.
“Uh.” I scrambled to my feet, exchanging a look with Kelly, who shrugged. “Yeah, are you…”
The man ignored me, pulling out a slim white phone from his pocket. He checked something, then flicked his eyes back at me, smiling now.
“Very easy it is.” He said, and flicked his fingers at me.
I can’t deny, life is pretty great now. Naps in the sun, a backyard full of mice and long grass, fresh wet food twice a day (Kelly always buys the good shit too, real fish flakes up in this bitch!), and the occasional back alley rendezvous with the siamese from down the street. Do I ever regret replying to God? Not on your fucking life. | Work is slow, so excuse the bad writing. I can't spell-check at work (notepad)! I've had about 2 hours sleep in 2 days and need to stay awake.
Clack, clack, tink tink tink.
The sound of another crushed can hitting the piled up recycle bin and rolling on the floor. It's been 5 days and the 40lt bin was already full. My last can for god knows how long.
I looked around, and everything about this place was depressing. All that remained was an old 54'' back-projector based T.V that was busted, worth maybe $30 in recycled plastic. Two piss-stained couches I got from my Dad's mate, an overflowed rubbish bin, and a small pile of un-clean dishes. I didn't even have a bed left. All of it gone.
My girlfriend is cheating on me with my former best mate. I found out about 3 weeks ago from an old friend of mine. She got sent a message from her a while back, and out of respect she told me. Cassie was that sort of person. Even if she didn't like you, she respected you enough to make sure you knew. She let me know countless times over the last 10 years that I was nothing short of an asshole and a complete dick. I guess making sure that I recognized her awesome work in the computer lab while in highschool got me some sort of respect.
I got fired two weeks ago. From manager of a transport company, revoked of position and put to a forklift driver, then one single dint on a god damn trailer and I got sacked. The same day another forklift driver put his tines through a pallet of alcohol and got sent home because he seemed "off his game". My dint was a $20 fix...
The eviction notice was pending. I knew it was coming, sitting there on my bench. For the 5th time since I moved in, I failed to pay the $340/w rent, which is cause for eviction. I had 14 days.
The only thing left was my phone. I paid the bill off with the last of my money while drunk. I had no power, no gas, only cold water and darkness, but I still managed to charge my phone at McDonalds with their portable chargers. Amazing what a 50c cone can get you.
Ding.
The fuck was that? Was that an email? The last time my phone dinged for an un-read email is was another scam-artist using a new email address.
Ding.
Was that another one? The fuck do they want?
I pulled out my phone, swiped up and smacked in 1337. The last remnant of my "uber gaming past". Outlook was still installed, and had a (2) highlighted on it.
"Notification pending..."
Who the hell titles an email called that? And all the body contains is "The system has noticed a change in situation. Notifications pending: 1. For more information please await further instructions".
Right, another spam bot. Slap the mark as junk button and swipe up to the newest email.
"[Notification] Difficulty settings Pending review" Ok, spam bot is going ham. What the hell is th-...
"Would you like to change your difficulty settings? Current leve-" The email was cut off due to the preview of the inbox. The crap is this stupid spam bot on about? There's a body to the email but no sender's address? Screw it. There's got to be more.
I raised an eyebrow as I tapped into the full email.
"Would you like to change your difficulty settings? Current level: Very Hard
Please reply with YES to continue, or NO to keep the current setting"
The fuck kind of bot is this? Screw this. Junk, tap, tap, swipe.
I didn't even get a chance to lock the phone before an exact replacement email came in, identical to the last one. I squinted in confusion. Junk, tap, tap, swipe. The moment I swiped, it appeared again. That 'aint right... Fine, what ever, let's do this. Tap reply, smash in YES as hard as possible, send and press lock button.
I waited about 30 seconds, no new email. That's all the bot needed to piss off? Good.
Ding.
"[Settings] Difficulty > Select New Difficulty" What?
Alright... Open this up.
"Your current difficulty: Very Hard
Available difficulties: Easy, Normal, Hard, Very Hard, Impossible"
Alrighty... Let's go with Easy. Tap, reply, send. My phone went black. God fucking damnit it was some fucking bullshit phone virus shit. I fucking KNEW it was bulls-
The phone began to boot up, but not into Android. "Droidekka v23.11" Okay, what? Is that a new operating system? It looks identical to Android, but there's a few apps I've never seen.
I know what makes them tick. I know how to make the ticking stop.
My ringtone for messages went off. Orianna from League of Legends. How I miss that game...
I know-
I know-
I know-
I know what makes them tick. I know how to make the ticking stop.
Another 4 messages, instantly.
Cassie, Cassie, Mum, Jesse, <no sender>? The hell? Alright, oldest to newest, I guess...
"Alex. We need to talk. Like. Right now. Please tell me you're watching T.V"
"I'm not kidding either."
What's her problem?
Reply: "No. I don't have a T.V anymore"
What did Mum want?
"Hunny... Congratulations! You did it!"
What?
"Dude. That's fucking amazing! What did you do?! You're a fucking GOD!"
What's going on?
"Congratulations Alex! You're the winner of the "Trillionaire Credit card"! Your name was picked at random by an official representative here in Melbourne, Australia! Appointed by all countries involved, the person who receives this card will indeed, become a Trillionaire! The world's first!
There will be a knock at your door in a few moments, by three representatives, followed and accompanied by 12 members of the Australian Federal Police Force (AFP)! For security reasons, please have all identification material on hand, as well as a clean right and left hand for finger printing and identification processing!
Congratulations once again!"
This can't be real... This is grade A bull-
Knock Knock Knock.
"Hello Alex? My name is Steve and I'm from the royal commision. I have with me two colleagues and security provided by the Australian Federal Police. Can we come in for a moment?"
No fucking way... "Doors unlocked, come on in!" I shout. Before I stood up, I hear the door swing open fast.
"Clearing premesis! Alex, please remain seated! You three, clear the house"
What the fuck? Is this a SWAT raid?
"Please remain calm Alex. Because of the situation, this needs to be done"
A few moments, and a few police gripping their holsters passing by me, I hear 5 shout Clear, and then footsteps down my hall. I stand up and turn around and there stands 3 guys in suits, armed police in uniform, and a fairly sized suitcase wrapped in gold.
"I believe you've heard the news?" the man with the suitcase asks. | 2016-03-30T18:37:14 | 2016-03-30T17:32:39 | 41 | 19 |
[WP] An aging veteran gets dragged to a paintball facility by his grandkids. Another elderly man is there with his grandkids. The two quickly realize they’ve faced off on the battlefield before. | I frantically dug deeper into the drawer searching for my car keys.
"Grandpa are you sure they're not in your coat pocket?"
"Yes for for the last time I already checked there", I grumbled back.
"Well, will you check one more time for me?" Timmy asked.
I sighed, stuck my hand in my pocket, and got ready to pull out my empty hand, but of course I pulled the keys out. Slightly embarrassed by my mistake, I hurried Timmy and his older brother Nate into the car to avoid talking about it. To think I once was a respected soldier in the Royal Australian Artillery and now I'm just an old man who can't even remember putting his keys in his pocket. Instead of driving an armored jeep into battle, I drive my grandkids around in my Holden.
My train of thought was interrupted when Nate spoke up and said,"turn right here".
Once I had parked the kids jumped out and ran inside to meet the other kids. I took a seat away from the other adults and reminisced about the old days in the war as I watched the kids do their own version of the messed up thing known as war. That's when I saw him.
He looked exactly the same as I remembered him. Immediately waves upon waves of memories hit me like tsunami. I began to fall out of my seat, how could it be? How could he be here? None of this made any sense...
But it was him. I would never forget the beady eyes of that bloody emu.
Edit 1: TIL Australians don't have Buicks.
| "Scheisse! Friendly fire! Friendly fire!" Old Man Lars, as the neighborhood brats called him, was known for his raucous zeal for life even in his old age. Hell, maybe you'd appreciate every day above the dirt, too, if you'd been pinned into a foxhole by withering 105mm fire and then held your breath as Patton's 3rd Army rolled over your head in their green tin cans of death.
Old Man Lars turned to a tiny girl about age six. She sported flowing gold locks and an impish grin. "Frieda, ziss happens over and over! How many times must I tell you to point the barrel zat way!" He motioned toward the enemy team who were propped against cover as he wiped a giant splotch of pink paint off his visor. "Es tut mir leid..." she replied softly, looking up at him with huge blue eyes. "Yes, you had better be sorry! Or else I will tell your mutter!" Frieda looked down sheepishly. "Again!" he ordered, with a stern look.
Just then a fusillade of green paint came flying his way, spattering his chest, face, and helmet. As if in slow motion, Lars stumbled backward with each impact until finally falling over.
Bewildered and incredulous, Lars took off his paint-soaked helmet in order to assess the situation and regain his senses. Over the plywood cover, he saw a shriveled wrinkled fist rise up in triumph and heard a distinctly American Clint Eastwood-esque voice taunt him. "Ha-hah! Have some paint for supper, you Nazi bastard!"
"What ze...? Can ziss be? Frank zee Yank?"
Sure enough, as Frank rose up out of cover to take aim again, Lars noticed the tell-tale scar running down the bridge of his nose and his American flag eyepatch.
"Frank? Frank is zat you?"
"You bet your Jerry ass it is, Hans."
"Fraaaaank. Frank, where is your helmet, Frank? Ziss is not very smaaaaart."
"Buddy, your boys threw everything but the Fuhrer's kitchen sink at me. Flak fire, potato mashers, hell, one of Goering's lackeys even divebombed me. And I'm still here, dammit."
"But Frank, zee only reason you survived is because your helmet protected you from my Gewehr bullet. You know zat, right Frank?"
"Helmets are for pansies. Pansies like you!" Frank lifted the gun to his shoulder. Then, suddenly: "OOF!"
Frank was struck with a big pink splotch in the middle of his forehead, dazing him and sending him reeling backward til he crashed through a pile of cardboard boxes that were set up as cover.
Lars, still dazed and out of commission in his own right, laughed from across the battlefield. "I told you, Frank. I told youuuuu."
"I did it, Opa!" Frieda called out. "I did it, I did it!"
"Gut gemacht, Frieda! Gut gemacht!" | 2016-09-06T20:27:21 | 2016-09-06T19:55:41 | 290 | 115 |
[WP] You are a brilliant Med School student who uses extensive knowledge on the human body to win street fights for money to pay for tuition. One night you face your most difficult opponent: a Physics major
Imagine House as an MMA fighter...
Edit: I've always wanted to see this plot as a TV show. I think it'd be really cool especially if the show used a lot of medical terminology like they did in House. | I stood in the ring, grinning, as the crowd cheered. 24 consecutive wins since I started; this would be my 25th. More relevantly, this would be $5,000 in my pocket.
And I hadn't even broken a bone.
"Joining the ring is... Impulse!"
The crowd parts. A hulking shadow emerges -- arms thick as steel pipes, chest as broad as billboard. I tense, biting my lip. I'm usually undersized compared to my opponent, but this guy is *huge*.
He steps into the light, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
He's big -- but none of it is muscle. His many chins wobble as he huffs and puffs, and his belly jiggles with each step. This will be a piece of cake... which he apparently indulges in often.
"3, 2, 1... begin!"
I dart around him easily, jabbing at the temporal part of his sphenoid bone with a phoenix punch -- which Dr. Leroy said was bound to knock someone unconscious. He swerves his head just out of reach, though, and backs away towards the far end of the ring.
What?
Grunting, he begins running full force at me. Okay, I've seen this move from beginners -- they get scared in the scuffle, so they back off and try to tackle me with a running start. Thankfully, it has an easy defense: a jab to the neck, which I hardly need to put weight into, since they're going so fast --
*THUD.*
My nose cracks. My neck-jabbing fingers crumple. I fall to the floor, every bone on fire.
"Guess you don't know about inelastic collisions, huh?"
I gurgle in response.
"Impulse-momentum theorem. More weight, more momentum; that energy's gotta go somewhere." He sneers. "Looks like it went into making you even uglier."
The world fades to black. | *I'm an engineering student, so I'm doing it from that point of view.*
I dropped my guard and swung my leg out in a round kick, extending it out as far as possible for the maximum moment arm. My opponent swung when he saw an opening, placing all his weight on his front leg as my kick connected and swept his main support out from under him. His arms flailed as he fell to the ground and all it took was a falling elbow with the force of my weight behind it to finish the fight.
A bell dinged. "And the winner is Seize the Moment!"
I stepped out of the makeshift ring and went to walk through the crowd when someone stopped me.
"You don't look that strong. I bet I could beat you in the ring," the thin guy who now stood in front of me said.
I looked him up and down, assessing his thin shoulders and short limbs. This should be a piece of cake.
"Alright," I smirked. "Easy money."
The announcer perked up as I strode back into the ring, my new opponent entering behind me. "Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like we have a very special bout for you tonight. Your champion, Seize the Moment will take on The Hyppocritic Oath!"
Wait, what? This guy's a fighter? I looked him over again, thinking there be might something about him I missed. He had no muscle to speak of, and was too skinny to be able to generate much force in his swings. Still, he must be good at something.
The bell dinged and we started circling each other. The 'Oath' moved like a fighter, keeping his hands up and making sure his feet never crossed. He was cautious waiting for me to make a move.
I closed on him and swung my body with a hook but he dodged out of the way and struck my elbow. My arm started tingling. The bastard had hit my funny bone!
I backed up as the tingling subsided. It was clear this guy knew something about anatomy, but it didn't matter. There was no way I was letting him beat me.
The fight wore on. I managed a few good hits but he just took them and kept striking at my pressure points. I could feel myself slowing down, and then I got hit with a wave of dizziness. Wait, when did I last drink any water?
The 'Oath' seemed to notice my dizziness and smirked. "You should've had a rest before getting back in the ring," he taunted me. "I've been watching you and you haven't had a drink for the last three fights. You're getting dehydrated."
He circled me as I slowed. I felt weak and I couldn't concentrate. "You feel like you're about to faint. You can't swing as hard, you're sluggish," he continued. "Didn't think a med student would be able to beat an engineer, did you?"
The 'Oath' moved in to finish the fight. I tried to push him away but I couldn't muster the strength. He slipped behind me and got me in a choke hold. I had to get out this.
Wait, why didn't I take advantage of *his* anatomy? I swung my fist down, seeking a very specific target and finding it. My opponent let go of his hold and I spun around. I raised my knee as he doubled over, resulting in a satisfying thud as his own momentum forced his head straight into my strike. The 'Oath' collapsed and didn't get back up.
The bell dinged, but I didn't pay any attention. I needed some water. | 2016-10-11T14:13:34 | 2016-10-11T13:52:01 | 39 | 18 |
[WP] "So what happens if I press this button?" I asked. "Nothing." She replied. I pushed the button in, grinning. "It's when you let go that things get nasty." | "You gotta be kidding me" I said pressing down the button.
"Haha, nope," she replied, "that's why you should always wait before compulsively pressing every button you see."
"Well..."
"Well- what?"
"Well, what the hell does it do?" I specified.
"I don't know, you'll have to press it to find out."
"There's no way I'm doing that. You've shown me some freaky shit over the years and I have no clue what this could lead to."
"Well, you really only have one option in this scenario."
"Oh, really" I replied in a semi-sarcastic way.
"Yeah, you gotta take your finger off the button at some point."
"Or I can just hold it here until you tell me what the hell is going on."
"Good luck with that one," she said as she walked towards the exit. "See ya later buddy. Let me know how it goes." and she walked out the door.
I stood there for another thirty minutes or so trying to figure out what to do. I called for help. I looked for something that I could put on top of it to hold to button down but finally, I decided that enough was enough and I lifted my finger off the button.
And nothing happened.
That little shit. | ######[](#dropcap)
Hilary Flint grinned despite himself.
"*Clever girl...* So happens next?"
The red-haired Fae smiled and bent down to peck him on the cheek. "Now I go and you stay. That trigger is connected enough Gelignite to blow you and everything around you for twenty paces into ashes. Think well of me, love."
"Every second of every day," Flint replied, admiring the view as she moved towards the exit. "Oh, and Morgan?"
She turned, a sliver of a smile on her lips. "Yes?"
"You're still the same heartless bitch I knew when I was twenty- you've just gotten better."
"Crueler," corrected Morgan the Fae. "And you're still the same impetuous, reckless idiot I knew when I was three hundred. You've just gotten bolder."
"Bette-" Flint began to say, but she vanished in a whirlwind of feathers as black as coal. Instead he sighed and cracked his neck, and settled down for the wait.
Faith Alathir arrive some five hours later, her face etched with annoyance. "Where in the blazes were you? I was forced to listen to some Spriggan ambassador's drivel for what seemed like forever. I nearly was about to slap him just to get to shut up. The least you could've done was clodger up some excuse for me to remove mysel- *oh, shit.*"
Flint waved at her- with his free hand obviously. His other hand was red from the constant pressure placed onto the button, and it was obvious that the strain of maintaining the effort was beginning to take its toll.
"Take my advice, kid. When a beautiful woman shows up wearing nothing but a smile, don't take her up on an offer of sport and play."
"You got played," said Faith bluntly.
"I got played," agreed Flint. He'd dragged a blanket over himself so that at least he had some degree of decency, though it was obvious by the state of the bedroom that something very amorous had recently occurred.
"Now listen, Faith. According to an unreliable source I'm currently holding down the trigger to enough explosive to blow myself to kingdom come, and I don't have a disarming kit. And my hand's beginning to cramp."
Faith took a half-step back. "What are the chances it's a fake bomb?"
Flint shrugged. "Pretty good. But we're talking about a Elf who'd once placed a spellmine underneath a child's doll just to kill the parent. Her double-crosses have a dozen layers to them, and even her lies usually true. It's a fifty/fifty shot that it's real. I *really* don't like those odds."
"So what do we do?"
"*We* do nothing. *I* see how much longer I can hold this and how far the pieces of me are likely to fly if I'm right. ....I don't want to be right." | 2017-01-05T14:05:34 | 2017-01-05T10:11:42 | 65 | 13 |
[WP] "So what happens if I press this button?" I asked. "Nothing." She replied. I pushed the button in, grinning. "It's when you let go that things get nasty." | "You gotta be kidding me" I said pressing down the button.
"Haha, nope," she replied, "that's why you should always wait before compulsively pressing every button you see."
"Well..."
"Well- what?"
"Well, what the hell does it do?" I specified.
"I don't know, you'll have to press it to find out."
"There's no way I'm doing that. You've shown me some freaky shit over the years and I have no clue what this could lead to."
"Well, you really only have one option in this scenario."
"Oh, really" I replied in a semi-sarcastic way.
"Yeah, you gotta take your finger off the button at some point."
"Or I can just hold it here until you tell me what the hell is going on."
"Good luck with that one," she said as she walked towards the exit. "See ya later buddy. Let me know how it goes." and she walked out the door.
I stood there for another thirty minutes or so trying to figure out what to do. I called for help. I looked for something that I could put on top of it to hold to button down but finally, I decided that enough was enough and I lifted my finger off the button.
And nothing happened.
That little shit. | The screen turned on as Glen stepped into the final room. "Congratulations," the robot droned in her robotic voice. "You have reached the final room." She paused for a moment. He looked around the room. It was blank, with white walls matching his clothing in their plainness. A red button sat on the wall. "Please press the red button on this wall."
Glen looked at it, and walked over. "So what happens if I press this button?"
"Nothing," she replied. Of course, she was lying, but there was nothing else he could do. He pressed the button, smirking.
The sound of machinery filled the room for a moment, and he felt the room jolt. The door quickly disappeared from view, the floor rising above it. He froze. "What did you do?"
The robot grinned, something she had never done before, and he felt chills drill through his spine. "It's when you let go that things start happening. Good luck."
The pace of the room was accelerating. By now, he reckoned, he must be at least twenty feet in the air. A fall from this height would easily break his legs, if not worse. He needed to release the button.
But the room didn't change. Though he could feel the vibration of the elevator, and his feet were heavier than usual, the room stayed the same. And he was afraid to let go.
He took a deep breath. He had to accept his fate. "On the count of three," he whispered to himself. "I'll let go when I count to three." He closed his eyes.
"One."
"Two."
"Three."
He released.
The vibration stopped, the noise stopped, and a horrible feeling of weightlessness overtook him. He started floating, and reached for the button. But he brushed against the wall, and his fingertips pushed him slowly towards the middle of the room.
He swore, and looked back. By now, he had floated to the ceiling, and he reached his legs back and placed them against the wall. His shoes gripped against the wall, he slowly bent, and then he sprung from the ceiling straight for the red button.
A horrible squealing sound seemed to come from everywhere, and he was slammed to the ground. Somehow, he managed to hold on, and the squealing turned into a grinding as the room shook, and slowed. "Come on," he managed through gritted teeth. "Come on," he whispered. "This can't be it. This can't be it. This can't -"
With a full thud, the room jolted to a stop. He smelled smoke. Another door on the opposite side of the room opened.
He had made it. He could finally get out of this blasted place.
He flopped to the floor and started laughing. | 2017-01-05T14:05:34 | 2017-01-05T11:28:44 | 65 | 10 |
[WP] "So what happens if I press this button?" I asked. "Nothing." She replied. I pushed the button in, grinning. "It's when you let go that things get nasty." | The smile fell off my face abruptly. "Jesus, Alice," I said, frowning. "Why do you have to do this all the time?"
"Do what?" She said, innocently.
"Just... it's the way you answer things. You knew what I wanted to say from context." I kept holding the button down, perversely.
"I don't see how that's my fault. You could have been more specific in your question," she said mulishly. She crossed her arms, frowning at me. I rolled my eyes.
"This is like that other time, you know, with the shark."
"That was *completely* different. Most sharks don't, in fact, eat humans."
"Yes, but the shark in that particular tank *did*." God rest that poor man's soul. "And what about the time in Pamplona?"
"How was I to know that they were going to let that bull out at *that exact moment*?"
"**Because they had just announced it two minutes ago!**" I shouted, still leaving my finger on the button. "Jesus effing Christ, Alice!" I took a deep breath, shaking slightly. "Ok. So how do I get out of this?"
She shrugged, a little hurt. She turned away, picked up her bookbag. "I dunno. You can figure it out."
"Wait- you're not just going to leave me here, are you?" I started to panic.
"Sure. You got all the answers, you figure it out." The door clicked shut behind her.
Shit. This was it. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do. Not even a chair to sit in. I took a deep breath, and lifted my thumb.
---
Alice leaned against the wall, waiting for whatever was going to happen, to happen. The door opened quietly, and he walked out. Somehow, improbably, covered head to toe in shaving cream. He shrugged.
"Coulda been worse." | I couldn't remember much about the night I spent with her except for that little silly button she had in the wall, and the weird sound she made when she climaxed. The whole thing was a mistake. Dana would kill me if she knew. She would literally shot me in the head with her service gun. But I couldn't resist that strange woman charm. I don't believe any men could.
I was heading down to the reception to check out from the hotel when she met me in the corridor half naked asking me with urgency to help with a broken tap that was flooding her room. Strange how suddenly an architect like me found the urge to be a plumber at that time of night. I fixed her plumbing alright, although we ended up flooding the room anyway. I never cheated on Dana, but that night, for some reason felt justified. It felt like a well-deserved compensation for all the headaches she gave me for not having kids. Why is she giving me shit for not having kids? It's not like I'm not trying hard enough. It's not like the bills for all the doctors she visited to fix "our problem" wasn't costly enough. "You don't want them, that's why we don't have them." was her theory. Why would me wanting or not wanting kids have anything to do with any of it. Yes, I don't want kids and I'm glad that we don't have them, but that doesn't give her the right to turn my life into hell. I've got nothing to be blamed for.
When we were done plumbing, me and the weird woman in the hotel, I asked her about the button. A black round button that was on the wall behind us, right above our heads. "You don't have one in your room do you?" she asnwered with a question. "No." I confirmed. "Well, it does nothing really." she said. I pushed the button in. "It's when you let go that things get nasty."
I didn't have enough strength to keep holding that button even if I wanted to. And why would I? It was certainly a silly joke, from a silly girl, in this silly one night affair. I wake up in my bed next morning. Dana was already up and running around the house like a headless chicken to prepare herself for work. I saw her take off her clothes as she walked into the room and started searching the wardrobe for the new day style ingredients. Her naked body looked beautiful like always. Her well-rounded ass, her arched back, her silky hair. And the stretch marks on her belly? Wait, I didn't remember seeing those before. "Baby, what's up with those stretch marks?" I asked. She looked at me and giggled, as if the question was humorous teasing. It wasn't. I swear I didn't see them before.
She put her clothes on and turned to me "Don't forget to pick up the kids from school at eleven am." she said. "Wait, whose kids are we picking up?" I asked as I sat up straight. That giggle again. She shook her head and left the room. Then she shouted from the stairs "Eleven AM." I fell back into the bed. I must have been too drunk last night. We must have got introduced to some new friends who got kids and somehow blessed us with the task to pick up their kids from school this morning. As I turned to the left, I saw the framed photo of me and Dana on the nightstand, along with three kids. Two boys and a girl. "What the fuck?" I exclaimed as I stood up again and held the photo in my hand. "Wawawait. What was the room number again?" I asked myself. | 2017-01-05T14:03:00 | 2017-01-05T13:30:21 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] At an alien bar in the distant future, two aliens are enjoying a drink and trading stories about the newest member to the Pan-Galactic Union, an odd race of bipeds from a planet named "Dirt". But what they don't realize is that you, the bartender, are from that planet "Earth". | "They're fuckin nuts, that's what they are."
The Qwyvvrtt shook his mane, the vines sliding like snakes across his barrel chest. A few small petals fluttered to the floor, the spring pollination season just drawing to an end. His friend perched along the side of the wall, all creeping ivy and a multitude dark eyes with slow blinks that drank up the world. Two wide saucers allowed their roots to splay easily across the enhanced water, passively sating their thirst.
"They implant themselves with metal. They become half machine. It is absurd." The ivy rasped, voice carrying easily over the creaking wood and tight skinned patter of movement of the normally quiet bar.
"Forget metal, someone told me the beings from Dirt will rip chunks of themselves out to save another Dirtwalker."
"And they just live like that? With someone else's limb? That's just-"
"Ugh, I know. Barbaric. How they even lived long enough for space travel, I don't know."
I stretched a lingering ache out of my elbow, listening in with half an ear as my other patrons chatted with the slow , tired rumble I'd learned to associate with the end of spring. The low music only eased their relaxed contentedness.
Except, I guessed, for those two.
"I watched a documentary that said they regularly applied acids and burning chemicals to their extremities. That they still punctured their own flesh for amusement."
They both shuddered.
"Can you imagine scorching your leaves just to look more autumn?."
"Gross, please, I'm trying to drink."
I laughed, sliding over to plant my elbows on the bar, grinning at them. Bright blue hair fell over my shoulders, freshly dyed.
Several piercings lined my ears, and a bright blue bandage at my elbow stuck a little to the polished chrome of the bar.
"Sorry for the delay boys, I'm still a bit woozy from a blood donation this morning. Can I get you anything."
My grin widened as their leaves rippled in horror and shock, and they muttered quiet negatives. Still, I filled up their water bowls (cloudy and cold - just the right amount decay to feed the fungus that lived in their tangled beards. The ivy shank back as I grinned at him.
"Don't be afraid to reach out if you need anything."
They nodded, and I retreated, prosthetic foot clicking against tiles.
"You know what it means when a human smiles, ssthahs?" "Hm?" "Documentary said they're descended from warm blooded animals, so it's either a gesture of comfort, amusement... or a threat."
"We should tip, ye? That's a human custom..."
"Yup." | Blurk and Kurble had been trading brutal insults about the newest members of the Union for two hours, each trying to out do the other. Intoxicated and having only a small amount of material that had played earlier on the news, they nevertheless managed to keep it going with no end in sight. Most of the insults were of the stupid/ugly/primitive variety.
Finally Tiffany could take no more. She was tired of listening to these assholes, and the tip just wasn't worth it. Parblurians were known to be chintzy tippers anyway.
"Do you think you could beat one of these humans in a fight?" she asked Blurk, the more obnoxious one.
"I'd tear it to shreds, and call animal control to come scrape up the carcass," Blurk boasted drunkenly. Tiffany's anger turned cold.
"What if I told you there was a human in the bar, and she was willing to accept your challenge?"
Blurk roared with laughter. But Kurble, who was slightly more coherent, recognized this as a red flag. Didn't the news program say something about the males being the aggressive ones?
"What human would dare challenge me?" Blurk bellowed with all the menace he could muster.
Tiffany calmly removed her apron, folded it, and set it down on the table for dramatic effect. "This one," she said.
It was only then that the two Parblurians realized their bartender was a human. It was an embarrassing lapse of situational awareness. Everyone in the bar was watching now. Her boldness was the second red flag, as Blurk was literally twice her size. But Blurk was undeterred.
"Very well. Let your example deter other humans from bothering other Parblurians with your delusions of grandeur."
"We'll see about that. Step outside." Tiffany turned and walked through the side door and into the back alley. Blurk and Kurble sauntered out, followed by every single creature in the bar. The procession took several minutes, as some of the patrons were in a stupor and not too agile to begin with. No one wanted to miss this. A few even had the presence of mind to begin recording.
This should be easy, Blurk thought. It was not even clear how the human could fight. It had no claws, no fangs, no horns, no spiked tail. Its skin looked fragile. Its muscles were not impressive.
The fight began, and immediately there was a third red flag. Blurk tried to rake Tiffany with his clawed hand. In a blur of motion, she easily stepped aside and he raked only air. The human was incredibly fast.
He swung around and raked again. She leapt aside, and before he could react, she struck him with a closed fist square on the jaw. There were gasps from the crowd. The blow had snapped Blurk's head violently to the side. The human was stronger than it looked. How could it strike that hard with a fist? Wouldn't its fingers break? Who fights like that?
Blurk almost lost consciousness from that first impact, and the fight deteriorated rapidly. The human was too fast for him to inflict any damage, and everything he tried resulted in a devastating counter punch. Sometimes she threw several punches in a flurry too fast for the eye to see. It wasn't enough just to win. Tiffany was on a mission to humiliate his entire race.
Finally Blurk collapsed on his belly and did not try to get back up. It was the Parblurian way of admitting defeat. Kurble was struck with fear. If she continued her attack, he would be honor bound to step in, and no doubt receive more of the same. But the human stepped back, put her hands on her hips, and glared at him. Kurble could not meet her gaze.
The next day, video of the fight made it's way to even the farthest corners of the Union. Parbluria had not endured such an indignity since Admiral Lurbka's defeat at the battle of Schizzleflurtz. And it was the first step in humanity's rapid rise to infamy that culminated in the Rumble in Roobeelia, which as we all know resulted in the Articles of Equality. | 2017-09-06T11:50:21 | 2017-09-06T11:30:15 | 25 | 11 |
[WP] At an alien bar in the distant future, two aliens are enjoying a drink and trading stories about the newest member to the Pan-Galactic Union, an odd race of bipeds from a planet named "Dirt". But what they don't realize is that you, the bartender, are from that planet "Earth". | There was a series of science fiction stories with this premise. Nearly all aliens are from small low gravity worlds orbiting red dwarf stars, where life evolved very slowly, with few mass extinctions. They are amazed that life could develop at all on a high gravity world with active volcanos, radioactive metals throughout, high UV sunlight, and mass extinctions every couple of hundred million years. Humans are recruited as soldiers because we are incredibly tough, strong and fast... Most aliens can't even see us move when we swing our giant musclebound limbs quickly. | (this was done on mobile, apologies for any bad formatting)
"People...uhh...no...thats not right, is it? Well anyway, the server is slowing down". The bartender shouted above the general chatter.
"Bullshit!" a mildly intoxicated Staricuon threw his canister to the floor, "I'm paying good money for this!" This type of thing always happened when the processor got overloaded. The bar was one of the first to adopt a fully simulated version of itself in a computer, essentially locked to the richer patrons. The technology had been introduced to the system B54-#G when the planet Earth had joined the Galactic Federation. The bartender looked back at the many customers and reached a decision of what to do about the overloading. "Simulation will restart in 5 Terran minutes, 12 Venarution minutes,2 Standard Time minutes and 8 Staric minutes. Thanks for being a customer here!" After setting the timer, he decided to return to the main, unsimulated bar.
He opened his eyes to find himself back in the chair at the serving table. The familiar clinks of the glasses from the auto-servers around the building were the first thing noticeable that was different between the two bars. In a simulated room, things could be generated immediately meaning that wait times became almost non existent.
There were two Venarutions in the table directly infront of him. Chatter could he heard from the two. "So...ya heard about the new system in the Fed?"
"Yeah. Terrans they call themselves. At least on the Fed register sheet"
Hey how'd you get access tah that?"
"News,friend,news!"
"Ahh. Apparently they refer to their homeworld as Earth though. Big ball o' rock! Hardly comparable to the bodies in the rest of their system. Nice gas planets, now you see *them*, you can use that gas for energy! Ain't nothin' you can do similarly on their proclaimed main planet!"
The bartender just stood and looked at them for a few seconds until they noticed. The aliens ended up getting free detox juice as well.
| 2017-09-06T10:09:54 | 2017-09-06T10:06:01 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] You’re an immortal who’s lived for thousands of years. Your life have been full of wonderful adventures and experiences that could not be lived within a single life. Today, you woke up with your first white hair. | "What is this?"
The answer appeared in my thoughts. It was a hair follicle. It appeared so matter-of-fact there was a hint of sarcasm.
"No, I don't want detailed chemistry data. No, I don't want a historical analysis. No, no, I don't want... Okay, listen. Hey, listen. I thought I had an infinite life."
The reply once again appeared in my thoughts. But it asked for permission. It even asked for my password to verify.
"Yes, I, of sound body and mind, consent to the release of private information."
My account details appeared. It came with emotions of calmness and tranquility. I had forgotten the account section was paired up like this. Like many other Immortals, we just do automatic payment for the next decade of immortality. It's probably been centuries since I, or anyone, last opened their account details.
"Show me how this is relevant."
My billing information appeared. The emotions of accuracy and professionalism that were paired didn't help. Shit. My last decades of immortality were costing extra. It was getting more and more costly to be a white caucasian straight male apparently, due to popularity among Immortals. This perk combo was auctioning for more and more. No one used to charge extra for this.
"How much time do I have left before I run out of credit?"
The possibility tree appeared. Most paths ended in the 80-90 year range, about 60 years from now. One ended in two days where nuclear war started. I chuckled at how silly that one looked next to the other possibilities that were a million times longer.
"So I guess this is my last character before my immortality wears off then?"
The information on how to add more funds appeared in my mind. It was paired with emotions of charity, selflessness, and having bountiful wealth. Cheeky. The life designer of this dimension must've had a laugh when they paired these emotions.
"Alright, bring up the latest global achievement list. What haven't I done yet?"
Hundreds of bounties appeared and I understood them all immediately. One from the latest update caught my attention.
"Kill another Immortal?"
"This is a new one isn't it? Wait, there's a repeatable credit award for this?"
A thought entered my head.
"Mark that one as active. Thanks. Also, submit my rating for this update please. Please post, quote, 'Buggy update, I keep getting deja vu skips every week. Fix this please! Strongly recommend skipping this update until patched. Zero out of ten.' End quote."
I couldn't help but grin. I think this white hair is the best thing to have happened this century actually. | The rusted springs of the bed cry out as I leave them for the night. Their whine reminds me of the abandoned people who once worshipped me – such a brief sound, nothing but a ripple in time. But it's heart-wrenching nonetheless. That’s the only thing I envy mortals – their ability to feel so much in such a short time.
My steps take me out of the bedroom and into the garden. Sometimes I just stand there, feeling the grass grow under my feet, smelling the sweetness of the daffodils swirling through the air.
Down by the lake, in the shadow of an olive tree, rests a girl. The black tresses of her hair swell over her pale shoulders in a waterfall of molten obsidian. Bright-eyed and freckled, she smiles up at me. She never speaks, just watches me in adoration.
My toes dip into the water, rippling the reflection of the ice blue sky. Water is the source of all life – that’s what they say – but I don’t remember the last time I had something to drink, and I’ve been around for a very long time.
Slowly, I stir the water with my foot. “Do you think the world matters?”
The girl usually just sits there, smiling, her beauty and grace forever captured in that state, but today she stands up. The smell of salt and fire fill my senses as she runs her fingers through my hair.
“Do you?”
Her voice is barely a whisper. Still, I flinch and pull my foot out of the water. She never speaks. Her soft breath in my ear makes me shiver. It’s been so very long.
“I… I don’t know.”
“I think you do know,” she says and sits down next to me.
I think just like her name, I had forgotten what an annoyance she was. Still, my heart starts aching. It’s a combination of sorrow and nostalgia ripping through it now.
“It mattered to me once…”
But I left it behind – I had to. The world isn’t a place for someone like me. It never was. Whenever I look at mortals I just see their skin drying and crumbling, their hair graying, and their skulls staring empty-eyed at me.
“Do you see it?” she says, pointing at the now polished surface of the lake.
More interested in her bony finger than my reflection, I try to grab it and pull her into an embrace. As always, she slips through my grasp and returns to her place under the tree.
Reluctantly, my eyes meet the soot-black ones of my twin. Seeing the chiseled jaw and cheekbones of my face never brought much joy or surprise. Nothing ever changes… except, this time it has. A single white strand of hair curls down my forehead.
For a moment, the man in the lake tightens his lips, and his eyebrows rise just a smidge of an inch. Change. It shouldn’t be there, but it is. Blinking doesn’t help.
“Maybe it’s time?” says the girl.
The thought of ever returning to the world had never struck me until now, but maybe it was inevitable.
“What year is it?”
“Does it matter?”
“Nothing matters.” That’s what I’ve always said, but now the resoluteness in my voice seems to be wavering. “Right?”
“Are you sure?” She tilts her head to the side, letting the pink tip of her tongue sweep over her thin lips. “Maybe it always mattered?”
My hand balls into a fist. Maybe there’s hope still left for the world.
“Will you come with me if I return?”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does it matter if I do?”
“I suppose it doesn’t.” I’ve always been so sure of my ways, but for some reason, things are changing. “Nothing really matters.”
Except… maybe it does, and perhaps I’ve been wrong all along. With a sigh, I stretch my back.
“What is your name again?” I say over my shoulder as I make my way out of the garden.
“What is yours?” she replies with a smile.
What is my name? Maybe it no longer matters. I’m sure the mortals have forgotten it. Perhaps it’s best if I make a new one for myself this time around.
***
Subscribe to r/Lilwa_Dexel for more. | 2018-01-14T04:38:53 | 2018-01-14T04:01:48 | 1,038 | 128 |
[WP] You are the king, after your daughter was kidnapped by a dragon you offered the standard reward to whoever rescued her. You weren't expecting a different dragon to rescue her.
Wow! I didn't think this would blow up like it did! Thank you all so much for all your stories. I haven't commented on all of them but they are all fantastic! | Aterren soared the skies, piercing the wind with mighty wings. His eyes raged with fire as lighting struck his tar-black scales, spreading through his immensity in a layer of ferocious blue.
That tempestuous night, his growl sent my entire kingdom into a tremor. My mistresses burned prayers for my daughter health and our protection. Worthless, not even a god could save us from Aterren if he attacked us. We would be reduced to ashes in bare seconds.
The prayers proved useless, Aterren descended from the skies obliterating my courtyard into smithereens as he landed. Every piece of glass in the castle shattered, and the force of the impact sent me face first against the floor. What did he want?
I bolted outside, my heart throbbing wildly up my throat. I was king, defending the realms was my duty and I had been doing it gladly for the past thirty years. That night, however, I felt like a child wanting to scamper away as far as my legs dared, and never ever look back.
But I couldn't.
Life taught me honor, war taught me death can't be escaped, and ruling taught me to care and protect. I'd failed to keep my daughter safe and the guilt burned inside me like a corpse hanging from a pyre. I wouldn't fail my kingdom, I'd choose death over hearing the woes of my people. If Aterren came here it was to propose a deal of sorts. Dragons are mighty creatures yet they bear honor like no other.
"Aterren, what brings you here?" I said, meeting those eyes of infernal whirlwind, attempting my best not to display fear. "Couldn't you come in a brighter day?"
He growled and placed his head onto the exposed dirt. "I came for your riches," Aterren said, revealing a teeth taller than me and sharper than any sword.
"For my riches? I thought dragons were creatures of honor, not extortionists." My bowels stirred yet I kept my composure. Showing weakness could lead to tragedy. "Go ahead, burn us all, I won't tolerate this lack of morality. You will plead for mercy when nature avenges us all." I turned and stormed off.
"Don't put your tongue close to the fire Robert, you might burn. You speak of morality and yet you are the one not living up to his words," Aterren said with his deep, rumbling voice. "Very well then, I will start with her. She's a fine lady with royal blood, a delicacy yet a mere bite to me."
I froze in place, eyes growing wild. "You? You have her?" I turned back to Aterren and found his talon extended with my daughter asleep atop. "Why? Where? How?"
"Your reward tempted me, Robert," Aterren said and placed her gently on the floor. "Too many riches, too many treasures, too much gold and jewels. Then there was, of course, the possibility of slaughtering Firgamal without guilt."
I breathed, then grinned. "I will have my servants fetch your reward. There are no words to express my gratitude, my daughter means everything to me. Is there anything else you desire from me?"
"You offered many things, enough to let your kingdom in severe debt, Robert. That's why I will offer something in return," Aterren said. "You are a good man, I won't see your kingdom meet its ruin because of a love we share."
I frowned, what did he say? "We share?"
He grinned, fire seeping through his teeth. "Indeed, I'm quite fond of your daughter, she has locks of true-fire. I offer my talon in marriage, I want her to be my wife. I will take an oath to defend your kingdom in return."
I stood there speechless, gaze drifting from Aterren's bestiality toward my daughter's pristine figure, back and forth, back and forth.
Today I will be tending all Aterren's guests for the wedding, dragons from the highest peaks, bearers of treasures of incalculable wealth. And, as strangely as it is...
My daughter's smile shines brighter than any of their jewels.
----------------------------------
/r/therobertfall
| These days it seemed as if most of my life was spent pacing. Pacing my bedchambers, pacing the throne room, pacing in the grand halls of the castle. Always pacing. What was it with dragons and stealing princesses anyway? Was their meat more succulent than other humans, did the royal blood within their veins give them some special power, or was it all just a scheme to add to the growing mounds of gold in their labyrinthine lairs? Whatever the reason, I had been awaiting the return of my dear Emmeline for far too long.
The moment the foul beast had swept down from the sky, fire licking from the corners of its mouth, and swept my daughters carriage away in its talons the call went out. The King's Daughter has been kidnapped by a fearsome Dragon, any who slays the beast and returns her will be rewarded handsomely. That was a month ago, an entire thirty days almost to the hour, and not a single knight or adventurer had managed to bring back my darling little girl.
The Dragon in question was a mighty beast, likely capable of taking out entire armies with a single expulsion of its molten breath from its brown scaled mouth. It would take one skilled in espionage and thievery to steal my daughter from its clutches, no normal soldier would do. I slumped back down into my throne, maybe it was time to abandon all hope, surely the beast would have either eaten her or made its demands known by this time. The chances are my little girl was dead. I let my head fall into my hands and let out a harsh sob, a very unkingly act to take, but my desperation and rage had turned to the rolling waves of sadness that often accompany the loss of a loved one too quickly for me to be able to keep a handle on outward appearances.
A distant bell tolled. Then another, closer this time, and another still. The warning bells of the settlement were tolling near and far, which could only mean one thing, on top of all else that had gone wrong over the course of the month we were under attack.
“My liege,” an attendant gasped, tearing open the door of my throne room and rushing in, it must be bad for the servants to so easily forget their place.
“What is it boy, we may be under attack but do not forget your place in my presence so simply,” I snarled, banishing my tears and raising up to my full royale stature.
“No my Lord,” the servant said, dropping to one knee hastily. “We are not under attack, it is your daughter, she has been retrieved!”
Anger. Rage. Despair. It is quite a shock at how these emotions can be so easily torn away, revealing the pulsing hope below like a scab being torn from a wound to let the blood run free.
“If what you say is true, then why do the warning bells toll as they are?” I queried, in case this were some form of trap.
“My Lord, please do not think me as a jester, but your daughter was rescued by… a dragon,” he said.
“A dragon?”
XxX
I stepped out into the courtyard, and as clear as day, a dragon stood in its center. The beast was large, even for its kind, and yet its green scales glittered in the sunlight with a dangerous elegance. Its snout was long and tapered to a point, sharp teeth sticking out at all angles, ready to make the soft flesh of any bystander its next meal. The creature had clearly seen many battles, it's emerald scales in places cracked and warped from the blades of men and the talons of its own kind. Beneath one of its clawed feet sat the very familiar, if not battered and beaten, form of my daughters carriage- with her dirty and scared face peeking out through the window.
“Emmeline, my darling girl!” I called out, her features immediately breaking into a smile.
“Papa! Please, save me!” She shouted back.
“Hush now little humans,” the Dragon said, shaking the carriage beneath its claws.
My hand tightened on the pommel of my sword. “Ho, Dragon, why have you come to the land of man with my daughter secured so dangerously beneath your feet?”
“Ho, Little ruler, I come for the reward that you promised for her safe return,” The Dragon replied, its mouth stretching into a sinister grin to reveal all its pointed teeth.
“Watch your tone, you speak with royalty, beast,” I warned, trying to keep my anger in check.
“Watch your tone,” the dragon mocked, tongues of flame spitting out from between its teeth as it chuckled, “it is your daughter that rests beneath my feet.”
“Now now,” I cautioned, releasing my grip on my sword, “I am sure we could come to some sort of… arrangement.”
“Yes," the dragon replied, I do believe that we could.”
xXx
The Dragon landed with a heavy thump, folding its majestic wings back onto its body, and dropped one of the two bags of gold it had onto the ground in front of itself.
“Rulers are getting far too easy to fool these days,” the Dragon said, “Though I must say it was a genius idea to steal princesses and then bring them back again for the reward, it really is much more efficient.”
“Well what can I say,” A second dragon said, its brown hide slinking out from the darkness of the cave of which it had been hiding. “I was tired of having to eat the scrawny things when their fathers didn’t pay up. Now I don't have to pick bones out of my teeth, and we both make some cash.
The two dragons laughed, picked up their freshly scammed coin, and took to the skies once more, ready to scam the rulers of all the kingdoms in the world.
| 2018-02-23T08:56:49 | 2018-02-23T08:55:10 | 1,122 | 54 |
[WP] Aliens arrive but do not attack. Instead, they say they’ll choose 100 humans to try and convince them they shouldn’t destroy earth. You are up next, number 100, with nobody else in front of you accomplishing the goal. Save earth | “Ok so explain to me why you want to destroy earth.” It’s a short and precise question giving me time to think. “We have explained this multiple times to you earthlings. We desire to recolonization this planet for our own species”
“Why not co-exist with us?” I needed information. Nothing anyone was willing to give. “We desire not to live with lesser beings.” Ok so they have pride. What else? “So basically your jealous of us and want to kill us now?” Test there pride. People slip up when angry. “We are not jealous of you simpletons. We simply eradicate waste.”
“So why aren’t you eradicated?” Ha ha struck a nerve. “Listen here ‘human’ we don’t need to-“ I cut him off. “And what’s with the ‘we’? Fancy yourself special? The ambassador of your race? Be honest these are all your stupid options and you will go back telling the others whatever you want.”
At this point he pulled out what I assume is a gun. “I will have your head!” They shouted at me. “Then what oh great one? Gonna go back to your proud race and tell them a human angered you? That you broke your rule? 99 of us went in and out so what will happen if I die?” They hesitated then put the gun away.
“We are not here for mindless chatter. Convince us we shouldn’t kill everyone.” At this point I had a huge grin on my face. “What if I just sit here? There’s no time limit.” They gave me a cold stare. “Then we kill your loved ones.” I couldn’t help laughing “There all dead man. Who you gunna kill? What are you gonna do?”
They got up and yelled straight at my face. “We will kill your race!” I kept my smile. “So? Most of us want to die anyway.” This comment seemed to stick with the alien. “You... want to die?”
“Why not? I’ve ruined lives. Probably killed some people. No one in the world want me to live so why not? It’s called depression and most people have it.”
The alien just sat there. Gave me a dumbfounded stare. “This ‘depression’ what is it?” We spent the next hour talking about it.
The aliens left. Sure didn’t take that long. Took a day at least before they all left. The last thing they said was “why would any creature want to die?” | Why?! God, why? I had been waiting for hours on end, thinking, screaming to myself, hoping and praying that someone ahead of me could do it. Someone else, anyone else! We had the world's greatest lawyers and politicians, all up here vying for earth's salvation, but with no one completing the task.
As I was ushered into the council chamber, the aliens looked at me smugly. The floating cameras that tracked my every move made me feel the gaze of all the trillions of people on earth. I imagined they'd already resigned themselves to it, to the fate that I surely couldn't stop. What could I say, what point could I argue that would drive home to these... these madmen that we deserved to live? How could I grovel for my planet's survival better than the ninety-nine men and women before me?
I took my seat, thinking of all the things I knew. Gaming, anime, television, books, comics. Maybe that was my answer? The politicians before me had brought up things like the earth's natural beauty, our world's seemingly unique capability to maintain life. All these points, though, were easily refuted.
The aliens came from a galaxy far out of human reach where there were thousands of earth-like "Goldilocks" planets, as our scientists knew them. For these aliens, earth was a dime a dozen. Nothing new or noteworthy- not to mention, we were already destroying it ourselves. Why, then, should they not destroy it? End the dying planet's misery, and permanently depose its irresponsible human tenants in the process.
"Human! You try our patience. Have you nothing to say, candidate 100? Do you elect to simply send your planet to its doom? Is humanity's last hope that much of a coward?" The headmaster of the alien tribunal looked down at me, a smirk on his face. He was toying with me.
"No, no of course not. Merely... gathering my thoughts." A bead of sweat dribbled down my neck, and I gulped softly. It was now or never. I had no more time. What was it that always saved the day?
There was my answer. It was the dumbest, most cliche thing in the universe. If this worked, whatever entity penned the book of fate would need to take some writing lessons. But it was all I had. The one thing that everyone on earth agreed would save the world when all else failed.
"Humans have an ability... that no other species can understand. It's useless, grants no evolutionary advantage, and even hinders our mating infrastructure." I glared determinedly at the tribunal, committed to my argument.
"Humans have the ability... to love. To feel such an incredible connection with another member of our race that we would consign ourselves to the rest of our natural lives with only one other person. It's based on a chemical, but the feeling is so much more. It's something so powerful that it can build and destroy civilizations... a power that can protect the most fragile of beings... and fell the most insurmountable of enemies. Love is something that we all understand, all search for, that we fight for, and we die for. So please! Stop! In the name of love!" I bent forward, facing the ground. My eyes were shut tight, sweat pouring from my body at the exertion that I gave with my proclamation.
A moment of silence. A scoff... and heavy laughter. "What kind of... grade-school bullshit is that? Love? You even mentioned it's nothing but a chemical! Haha, what kind of saps do you take us for! Good-bye, humanity."
A flash of light transported me from the tribunal room to the center of a large field. I was surrounded by 100 souls, the other people who had given all they had to save our planet. The other people who had failed. We all said nothing to one another. We simply looked up at the massive space ship that blotted out the sky, watched as its colossal cannon whirred and spun to life. We clung to one another and waited as the world became naught but ash. | 2018-05-28T10:40:24 | 2018-05-28T09:59:49 | 68 | 12 |
[WP] A planet and its moon both have intelligent life. For 400 years they have watched each other through telescopes. Now one of them is launching its first rocket to pay the other their first visit. | They watched each other grow and thrive through polished glass, the lensed long-eye.
Just barely seen, in days of yore, were coded questions in semaphore:
*"What's life like on yonder rock? How do you deal in trade and stock?"*
*"Who made you all, and placed you there? Are your gods kind? Are they fair?"*
And on it went, down through the ages, decoding questions writ by the other's sages.
The cities spread, the deserts shifted, the times were rough, yet the spirits lifted.
*"We might be able to fly to you!"*
*"Yes, we know, our people theorized it too..."*
*"It's too risky! You might die!"*
*"I know, I know... but still, we must try."* | LOG 1:
"ahem, is this thing on? Yes? okay. My name is Darmi Steran. I am the captain of the \*Void\* the vessel that will be leaving the moon Rotuga and approaching its planet Nera. We have observed the intelligent life on Nera for 400 years through telescopic instruments. the planets life is strange.
But first, life on Rotuga. Rotuga is the largest planet our species has been able to move to. Our original homeworld Targon was destroyed by a massive meteorite. The planet was hit and mass extinction took place through the form of ecological disasters. Large tsunami's, cyclone's and earthquakes killed millions, forcing a colony of us to flee to nera.
Rotuga appears to be lacking in any form of natural resource. The moon is completely stricken of any form of fertile soil for agriculture, liquid water or live game. the only real form of energy we can gain is from large ball of gas in this galaxy. our species has evolved to develop a photosynthesis like ability to sustain ourselves from only pure energy.
Rotuga is the only planet we have. but we can't survive with what we have.
Which is why they've sent us to Nera.
Nera's population has another name for it. Earth.
Nera's population reaches about 450 million, has a wide variety of animals and plants, 70&#37; of the planet is water, and will provide us with enough resources for technology development.
We have been observing them since Nera Year: 947 CE
Make no mistake this is an invasion,
The primary species is a species of primate named \*Homo Sapiens\* meaning "wise man" in their main language Latin. While the Homo Sapiens do have advanced technology, their bodies are not built to withstand mass disease.
Which is why our main plan of attack is through implanting a viral disease strain into one of their most infectious virus carriers, "fleas"
We will be entering Nera through longitude and latitude 7°10'46.78" N 36°02'52.44" E into the Kaffa sea port.
If this attack succeeds, the entire Homo Sapien population will be wiped out and Targon will begin again on Nera.
If not, our species is doomed to die off.
This is Dami Steran, the captain of the \*Void\*
signing off,"
END LOG | 2018-07-05T09:38:54 | 2018-07-05T06:24:56 | 43 | 24 |
[WP] While driving you hit and kill a boy. You feel terrible, and at the funeral you tell the family you wish you had died instead of him. 3 weeks later, a new surgery comes out that can bring someone back from the dead at the cost of another's life. You hear a knock at your door. It's the family. | All 51 brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins. We now have a weekly schedule, everyone takes their week each year being dead. Since the only cost is a life, seems silly not to just work this rotation. Now we are all immortal, like everyone else that found the glitch in the system. | "Hey."
The shaggy mane of a man not much older than a father's hand-me-down stood behind the opened door. The aura of personal neglect intensified as the wind blew past.
"Hey yourself, I guess you're here about Gil, huh." I'm almost surprised at my voice, not the contents. Definitely not the contents.
He paled a bit more, perhaps swallowing a response, perhaps not. It's only been three weeks and I can't imagine what a proper response could be.
"Did you mean it?"
I did at the funeral.
"Can you look into my eyes, and say that you'd rather instead?"
Taking in his face, he looked somehow worse than at the funeral. Maybe two deaths on someone's conscious isn't healthy, I wouldn't know. His eyes steel cables, tense unwavering.
"Better me than him... Better me than him."
Surprise? Anger? I don't know him well enough to tell. The cables snap and we're left drooping at our shoes.
----
"Arranging affairs" are only relevant for those who... do.
I didn't. Not for a long time. Funny justice that I chose this out, not ha-ha funny; maybe ha-ha funny after a year or so, but only if the audience is as morbid as the comic. They often are.
The table isn't cold. I guess that's a somatic trope thing writers did to pull the audience in. It's really not much of a table either, maybe more of a bed. The doctor - surgeon? - tries to make a valiant effort at small talk. She seems a lot more comfortable with this than I am, which probably means she's having an internal meltdown at this point.
The mask goes on my face and I smell blood and the doctorsurgeon asks me to count down from ten. So I go ten as the needles prick, prick,prickprickpri
| 2018-09-16T18:33:54 | 2018-09-16T16:29:37 | 107 | 50 |
[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 | The cultist, wearing a trench coat and smoking a cigar, with a Colt pistol holstered in his pocket, raised his hands, chanting some indecipherable phrases, as a creature from beyond the comprehendible portions of reality dragged itself into our dimension. The conditions were right, the sacrifices were made, and the world would be over as soon as the Great Chained God was summoned.
Right as the casting was about to finish, however, a teenager wearing glasses, a t-shirt featuring a hooded man with glowing blue eyes, and some athletic shorts slammed a card down onto the folding table he carried around for just such an occasion, putting another card face-up next to his deck and wincing as a small cut opened up on his torso.
“I cast Force of Will, targeting your summoning spell. It’s countered.”
The Eldritch horror screamed with the force of a trillion upset toddlers as it returned to its own twisted home. The cultist pulled out his pistol, preparing to shoot the man who’d just ruined his plans, but he just sat there and smiled as the gun couldn’t seem to point in the right direction.
“Leyline of Sanctity. If I start with it in my opening hand, I can put it down straight away- which I did, so you can’t target me because I’m hexproof. Anyway, it’s your turn. On your draw step, you don’t seem to have a library to draw from, so I guess you lose this game?”
The cultist gasped for air as his life faded, confused and terrified that this child could have defeated him so easily, after months of planning, reading those damnable tomes and giving up his own mind just to bring this world to an end, and a new world in, with him at the head...
As the trench coat wearing man slumped to the floor, bleeding out of his ears and eyes, the teenager stood up annoyedly,
“This match was supposed to be best two out of three! Why does this keep happening every time I win game 1?” | I stalked ahead, fully aware of the traits of the devastating weapons loaded in my sack and pockets. I tried to recall the symbols I’d need to create any number of permutations. My opponent stared me down and began to chant. I huff at her, with her clumsily thick blue robes and childish conical hat. I’ve trained my body and mind constantly for years.
I can no doubt dodge whatever she throws at me from the end of her plea with whatever nonsensical deity for power. I kneel down and swiftly complete the outer circle, sketch a series of small, sharp angles inside, and write down a single symbol in the center - a triangle pointed towards me, with a horizontal line across it. My materials are simple, and so is my required circle.
She cries out “Bolt!” and I roll over my circle, narrowly avoiding a narrow strip of lightning from the sky. She huffs, aware that whatever comes next, she must move as swiftly as possible, and pants for breath, watching me suspiciously as I place my left hand under the flap of my sack and my right into the center of the circle, leaning forward to pour out sand into the circle. I focus on the form of the silica and force a powerful handle out of the pile, ending with a fearsome, jagged point of brittle, semi-fluid flint. The handle glistens in an ethereal rainbow as the tip melds out of the end, black as pitch, deadly and primitive.
I stumble forward as my foe shrieks “FIRE!!” It catches on my trousers and begins searing through the thin material. I rapidly unzip my left leg and kick it off in a panic, trying not to warp or shatter my (admittedly fanciful) spear. I dump a pile of sand from my sack onto the leg, stifling the dancing flames as I hear more chanting begin. How is she doing this so quickly? I hear her speaking quite openly to Shiva as I close in. Whatever she’s up to, I need to make my move properly.
I stab towards her side, managing to cut open a sleeve on her robe, letting out a trickle of blood from her arm, but she doesn’t respond, continuing her prayers to bring me a “cold death.” I don’t want to know what that means and strike with the butt of my spear to her midsection. She tears up, gasping in pain, buckling down to her knees and then picks up right where she had been a second ago, more quietly. I don’t have time to think, and begin beating and cutting at her, trying to use non-deadly force. After all, this girl is clearly childish, and looks terribly young now that I knocked off that silly hat of hers. She stubbornly cries out, “BLIZZAGA!” My entire being numbs as the cold gathers around my body, moisture from the air and my sweat forming solid ice as I struggle to breathe. Everything... is...
*The girl panted and cried from pain, bruises and cuts covering her petite frame. Her opponent stood before her, vanquished, the strange and warped spear crumbling into sand. “Oh, just great. This damn sand will stick everywhere!” She struggled to maintain consciousness as she staggered to her feet, leaning heavily on her oak staff for support. “Hey, Big Brother... if you ever see this...” the mage hobbled away, letting her spell dissolve together with her imaginings of the Winter. “Try telling me again how useless magic is...” She sighed and decided it was probably best to call a couple of her friends. * | 2018-10-15T23:09:43 | 2018-10-15T22:07:03 | 42 | 26 |
[WP] All work centers are mandated to install " Efficiency Microchips" into their employees. The microchip makes the host blackout during their shift and come back into control after work is over, with no recollection of their day. Your microchip just malfunctioned.
Edit: Holy crap 5.2k upvotes and we made the front page?! You guys and gals are awesome, I love reading all the shorts. Keep up the good work!
Edit 2: I've never made the front page before and I see we're at 9.2k upvotes. Really made my day people. Keep writing awesome stories! Love seeing everyone's creativity! | The office conditions became so dreary that they invented a chip for all office workers. "Voluntary" to get installed of course but everyone went along with it, some running. Of course I did as well. I don't hate my work but I figured I don't love the office so much so what the heck, losing 8-9 hours a day would be no big deal. Also I would have only the fun bits of life left to me.
It started nice. The chip would activate only near my cubicle after a slight warning jolt to notify its status. So I knew when I was going "offline". After a long shift of nothing, I came back home, rested a bit, played games, chatted with family and friends then off to bed I went for the next day. The thing is, without a work day to talk about I didn't have much to talk and boy the evenings are short. 5-6 hours then sleep and I'm not tired at all so no way I said. I stayed up until the early mornings and let the future drone me handle it.
Handle it, it did well. Some days I never slept and went to work after an all nighter, most with 1-2 hours of sleep out of slight fear that I may eventually burn myself out unknowingly.
This went on for a year I think. I don't remember that far back, because I've never been home for the last 20 years. The chip malfunctioned, I think, and I wake up everyday at the office. The chip jolts my brain if I leave the office premises or "offlines" me. I went to several doctors, I am not sure, I took appointments and look like I went to them but I don't remember. I called them and they said they've seen no problems with me. I called my wife but she is somehow happier with me in general and sounds more lively on the phone. I asked for help and they told me to stop goofing around. I have photos from family activities and birthdays I've never been to. I want to go home.
Edit: Thanks for the kind words everyone. Manly hugs to you all. | Item Number: SCP-8907.
Object Class: Euclid.
Containment Procedures: One (1) SCP-8907 unit is to be kept in operational, but disconnected condition in an anomalous storage locker at Site-15.
Any persons shown to be affected by SCP-8907 are to be referred to as SCP-8907-1, and undergo surgical procedures for immediate removal of SCP-8907. In the event SCP-8907 cannot be removed, SCP-8907-1 is to be terminated.
SCP-8907 has been shown to interact with members of [GOI-004C](http://www.scp-wiki.net/church-of-the-broken-god-hub) without requiring physical installation. Due to the activities of GOI-004C, any member affected by SCP-8907 is to be immediatly terminated, and severing the connection to their main communication network is to be a top priority. No member of GOI-004C is to come within 50m of any instance of SCP-8907. If a member of GOI-004C is shown to be an instance of SCP-8907-1, it is to be considered a major containment breach, and a joint effort of both [MTF Stigma-9 ("Evolved From Naturally Ocurring Gears, Levers and Pulleys")](http://www.scp-wiki.net/task-forces#toc37) and [MTF Mu-4 ("Debuggers")](http://www.scp-wiki.net/task-forces#toc21) will be required to locate and contain any instance of SCP-8907 on the GOI-004C network.
Any office buildings or complexes drastically changing their purposes are to be monitored for possible SCP-8907 infection.
Description: SCP-8907 is a biological augmentation circuit originally manufactured by [Prometheus Labs](http://www.scp-wiki.net/prometheus-labs-hub) in [REDACTED]. Marketed as an "Efficency Microchip", employers could request that their employees install SCP-8907 to improve their workflow. The promise of pay raises or other incentives generally convinced employees to willingly become instances of SCP-8907-1.
Once an employee has installed SCP-8907, when they begin their work day, they will lose conscious control of their actions, and will believe that they are asleep. However, their body will accomplish all work tasks given to them for that day. Any non work related vocalizations will be limited to convincing co-workers to install SCP-8907.
Once an office reaches 100% SCP-8907 integration, behavior in that office shifts dramatically. All employees become solely devoted to the manufacture, sale, or distribution of SCP-8907. All employees notice no difference, due to the lack of conciousness during the day.
SCP-8907 was first discovered when an office building previousily housing financial and investing companies, shifted over to circuit production with no change in employment. [MTF Pi-1 ("City Slickers")](http://www.scp-wiki.net/task-forces#toc25) was dispatched to investigate after Prometheus Labs tech was found leaving the premises. The structure of the building had changed drastically from obtained blueprints, allowing for vertical manufacturing on a scale never seen before. No employees were seen to interact with MTF Pi-1, even when one employee was accidentally severely injured by the MTF. All employees became alert once again at 5pm, and remarked how they believed that it had been a productive day. MTF Pi-1 asked a number of employees what their occupation was. Most answered with responses fitting of a financial institution, regardless of what the employees were seen previousily doing.
Edit: Holy spelling errors, Batman. Also, R E D A C T E D | 2018-11-19T04:29:41 | 2018-11-19T04:24:43 | 1,091 | 363 |
[WP] 10 years ago, your dad went out to buy milk. Today, he's returned with the milk and recalls nothing of the past 10 years, swearing he was only gone for 20 minutes. | "Hey, I'm ba-"
The man stopped abruptly as I turned back to face him. And my jaw dropped open in shock.
I had just been sitting here on the couch, messing around with my phone, when in through the back door comes my father. The father who left 'to grab some milk from the store" ten years ago.
Exactly as I remember him, with his rugged face, 5 0 clock shadow, piercing brown eyes, and that stupid Mets cap that I used to hide from him, and we would always get a laugh. My dad was everything to me.
Until he ran away.
But now he stands there, his jaw agape, with a look of... is that sadness in his eyes?
"Er- Eric? Son? Is- is that you?"
I nod. "Yeah, DAD, this is me. And what does it matter to you?" I regard him coldly.
His brow furrows in hurt and confusion. "Son... what happened to you? You look like a man now."
I raise my brow surreptitiously. "Yeah, I grew up. You left when I was 9 years old. That kinda happens when you abandon your family for 10 YEARS!" by this point I was shouting, full of anger that came crashing back for the first time in years.
This man - my father, my world, - left me and mom and my sister without a warning, and never came back. And now he thinks he can just waltz through the door?!
"Son-" he says, setting the milk carton he was holding down on the counter. I jumped a little, I hadn't noticed that before. "Son, I just left for twenty minutes. How did this happen?"
At this point I had a pause. "Twenty minutes? What do you mean?"
His eyes widen. "I just left to the grocery store, and when I get back home my little boy is all grown up!" His eyes fill with tears of sadness. For all the years he missed.
My eyes fill with tears too, and I reach out my hand to him. "Its ok. You're back now mr. Rey- I mean Dad."
The man narrows his eyes. "Son... what did I say to you every night before i tucked you in?"
The boys eyes narrow. "You said, sweet dreams son."
The mans eyes fill with tears again, but this time of anger. "I would say, rest up, buttercup. You're wrong. Good try though, you lousy excuse for a Kleerian."
He then draws a pistol out of the waistband of his jeans and fires. The bullet strikes the boy in the forehead. A sneer of anger is the last expression he gets out before he hits the floor.
Now lifeless, the Kleerian returns to it's true body. The handsome young features of the boy writhe and move as they retract into the hideous, insectiel face of the Kleerian. His slightly calloused hands warp into claws, stained with blood - human blood. His hair shrinks into his skull until it's nothing more than the creature's shelled head.
Frowning slightly, the man moves past the lifeless body and onto the stairs. Upstairs, he enters the boy's room.
The photographs of him in his little league uniform are still there. The room is just like the nine year old boy who it belongs to should look.
But the boy is gone. A quick check around the house confirmed that his wife was too.
He lifts a walkie talkie to his ear.
"Well?" The crackly voice on the other end says.
"They moved fast. I cant have been gone for more than twenty minutes, and they were able to take them and be long gone".
He nudges the Kleerian's body with his toe. "They even took the shape of a kid who looked Luke my son might when he's older. Theyve clearly planned this long ahead".
"I agree." Said the other voice. "They're making their move far quicker than we anticipated."
"Well one thing's for sure." Said the man. "They've taken my family, and I wont rest until I get them back." | (Disclaimer; this is a repost of mine from a very similar thread a month back. I still like it, though)
_____
Thirteen and a half years ago, my dad went out the the store. He said it was for milk, it was actually for a pack of smokes, none of that is super relevant.
Six months ago, he came home.
It was... uncomfortable, at first. Mom had remarried. I had a boyfriend, and dad hadn't had the luxury of a half decade to come to terms with me being super gay. We'd remodeled the upstairs at one point, and replaced the front lawn with a less water-sucking courtyard. General improvements made over time, that added up to an alien home to someone who was out of their own era.
But he was back. He was home. My dad. I couldn't be mad or awkward forever; I'd loved him, and still did. He was always there for me, until the day he wasn't.
There is, with humans, an imperative to search for a cause to something. Why, we ask. Why is the sun so bright, why is the sky blue? Why does this bird live here and this one does not? Why am I sick, and why can't we fix it?
Why did a human man, age thirty nine, drop off the face of the world for thirteen long years, and come back as if nothing had happened?
Fuck, he even brought back that beat up old pickup he loved. Loves.
So we started looking. I took time off work. Mom canceled her vacation plans. Even Devon, her husband who had been starting to feel more and more like a 'dad', sat with us when we needed an extra head, and gave us polite space when it became uncomfortable. He and dad got along really well, though, which was surprising. Dad was taking this whole thing kinda well. Maybe he was just delightfully surprised good smartphones existed.
But after six months, what it was looking like was that there was no why. There was no greater plan to this. No magic, no divine intervention, no summoning from another dimension. No curse, hex, pact, or glitch in the matrix. There were no anomalous energy readings, no quantum fluctuations, no... anything. There was just something that had happened. Once. And never again.
Until we found the support group.
I went with dad sometimes, other times he went on his own, when he said he needed space. I always felt my heart skip a beat when that happened, because I remembered what happened the last time he left the house alone. It was a meetup group at the local library, every Saturday afternoon, for people who... well, there wasn't a blanket term. For people like my dad.
People who had their whole lives upended in an instant, from something that didn't make sense. They talked, they commiserated, they cried together. They found something there that I didn't fully understand had been lost, but that they all needed.
Cassandra was the woman who started the group. She'd been dead for most of her life, and was still coming to terms with how that even worked. Her husband was really amazing, always there for her, even when he'd just attended her funeral again. She told us, "There are some things in the world that we don't understand yet. And there are some things in the world we don't want to understand. But then, there's those things that understanding slides around, like oil and water. We're those."
I'd spent the next week calling my dad "Oily" with a big old grin, until he'd laughingly tossed me into the community swimming pool with a throw that I remembered from my childhood, and suddenly felt the pain of missing again. We'd stopped laughing, but not stopped understanding each other then.
There were other people who came and went from the group. Bob, who sometimes got to relive days, but not in any particular order. He'd always tell us if he'd looped, to be polite, and offer up advice on who shouldn't buy lottery scratchers. Mars was less polite; a young person from another Earth, who had a lot of cultural adaptation to do. She yelled a lot. Or Louis, who'd found a really, really old coin that made him consume wi-fi and microwave radiation for some reason.
My favorite though was the guy my age, Indri. He said he'd been cursed, which was actually kind of hard to take, because curses implied magic, which implied it could be repeated. That sort of systemic thing was really uncomfortable, almost distressing, to the rest of the group. They didn't just think that our problems were one-offs, they needed them to be unique. If only so we could know it wasn't happening to anyone else. Not like we ever would with Indri. I don't actually know his actual name, I just write something different, because everything written or recorded about him blanks itself after a while. It took me a while to figure out that I have to treat him as a hypothetical, or a fictional character to get anything to stick. Makes it hard to keep up a friendship with him, but we're getting coffee after the group this weekend, so it must be working.
I know all of this sounds like it doesn't have a point, or like there's disappointment that there wasn't some grand plot, or colossal family drama, or a big twist to it. Maybe there will be, eventually. But there is a point. My dad's back. He's having trouble adjusting, but he's back. My dad, who I thought was either dead or an asshole for thirteen years, is home again. He bought that damn milk, he carried it through thirteen impossible years, and he made it back to an unfamiliar world. But he did it.
And life goes on.
I'm gonna go hug my dad now. | 2022-11-18T17:32:53 | 2019-04-08T15:26:06 | 51 | 12 |
[WP] Upon us entering intergalactic civilization, we discover that the Milky Way wasn't where we came from, but where we were banished to. All of civilization is horrified that we survived and returned from the universe's harshest galaxy. | "Run the data again." Dr'tll demanded.
"We've run it 12 times in the past mini-cycle, sir." M'tan, the young scientist leaves turned grey with fear. "There is no mistake."
"There HAS TO BE!" Dr'tll's fist slammed into the monitor, shattering it and sending green chlorophyll blood flying from his fist. "The Milky Way is a class six death zone. Earth is a CLASS TWELVE DEATH WORLD. They can't possibly be alive!"
"Not only are they alive....they've thrived." Me'dem Knios, the matriarch of the research station appeared. "Jumping from steam weapons to electricity, then to nuclear power before finally harnessing starfuel and dark matter in only three centuries? We underestimated their intelligence. They are coming to wreak a terrible, bloody vengeance upon us, to bathe the star-ways n blood for our sins."
&#x200B;
The ship landed, and the first humans climbed out.
"Ugh. FTL travel gives the meanest jet lag" Corporal Jamal Huang joked. He looked around. This world didn't seem to use that much metal. Crystals and plantlife mostly. Bio-technology. Only the ships were made of something he could compare to Earth metals but they seemed alive as well. At his side, the other inhabitants of the spaceship slowly gathered around, ready to make first contact.
An envoy approached him. Jamal had seen a lot in his travels through the Milky Way, but the first beings he'd met in here on Kallos in the Andromeda Galaxy disturbed him. They were like....what was that monster from the old stories? Ents. Tree people, but with flesh grafted on random areas. Humans who looked like trees.....trees that walked like men? Small bugs scurried across their clothes, which seemed to be made of spun spider-webs and crystal. His stomach turned instinctively, the old human fear of the uncanny welling up, but centuries of exposure to the cosmos fought it back down.
"Hi. Nice to meet you." Jamal gave a warm smile and stuck his hand out. "I'm Corporal Jamal Huang of the Milky Way Alliance and-"
Whatever he was to say next will be lost forever as all five of the natives bowed before him, kneeling and crying, a sound that tore at his ears and ripped at his soul.
"We, the Entradi, do formally surrender to the humans." The biggest one spoke, translators thankfully making her message understand. "We apologize for the graphic crime of sentencing you to the Death Zone and will accept whatever punishment you see fit!"
Jamal stared at them, then looked back at his crew. No, they were equally lost.
"What the HELL are you on about?" he finally asked. And that's when the story truly begins.... | The chamber erupted into shouts, dozens of species shouting at each other in as many languages, over the trio of beings that stood on the assembly floor.
It took a full fifteen minutes, by the reckoning of Cpt. Mactavish’s pocket-watch, to quiet down.
“Quiet! Silence in the assembly!” A large four armed and red alien yelled. Two of his arms clutches a gnarled staff.
“Assembly members!” The captain called out, his medals clinking as he moved. “I still don’t understand what the issue is...”
“The issue is, your species was supposed to be torn to shreds on that hellish rock we put you on.” The red one shouted back, a growl underlying it all.
“For what?”
“For crimes against the galaxy. Your species has done nothing but fight itself and every other race that attempted to keep you safe from yourselves.”
“Ah.” A smile couldn’t be stopped from creeping across his face. “We don’t really like being controlled, that tracks.”
“See! They haven’t changed in the slightest.” A green alien that looked like a collection of vines hissed “He admits it. We should finish the job once and for all.”
The assembly rumbled again. He fingered the silver disc in his hand.
“We are more than our conflict, surely you can see that. We’ve created art, and music, and great works-“
“And what did you do when you arrived in inhabited space??” The red one spoke again.
“That’s ridiculous, your ships opened fire on ours before we even opened communications.” That shut him up. Well, he still growled.
“You all seem determined to pigeon-hole us-“ there was a bit of confusion in the hall. “-into being the monsters you all think we are! We wish to explore the stars. It’s been the grand wish of our species as long as we can remember!”
“And yet you travel in warships.”
“We didn’t know what we’d encounter, we thought we should be prepared for every possibility. And you proved us right. Thirty seven dead, one-hundred-sixty-seven wounded all without prior warning.”
Many members of the assembly shifted and looked to each other.
“This is the largest loss of life in a military exercise in the last 10 years, by our system of course. And only 11 were military personnel.” Mactavish let his cap shadow his eyes for a moment and gripped the silver disc in his hand ever tighter. “By my people’s recollection, you all are the monsters.”
Mactavish thought the rumble he felt was just in his chest, the result of a speech well executed. He only realized he was mistake when the two marines at his side stepped forward in defense.
The whole chamber was shaking, a few bits and pieces of the ceiling crumbling down.
“What the hell is going on?!?” Mactavish shouted, drawing his service revolver.
“The Zer’ai. The species that took your place as the warmongers of the galaxy.” The red one said again, a holographic display emanating from its staff showing the Assembly station surrounded by red dots.
“Really? Why didn’t you exile them?”
“We-...we discussed it and decided it was...unethical.”
“Well, aren’t you all just a bunch of hypocrites. You lucky that we’re here to help you.”
“What? No! Don’t you dare bring more of yourselves here. How do we know that you won’t turn on us?”
“You need a monster to kill a monster-“
Mactavish looked around at the crumbling Assembly chamber.
“-and frankly, you don’t look like you have much of a choice.” He put the disc he’d been clutching to his ear. “The is Captain Jameson Mactavish, serial number 17456, calling all elements of the 7th, 9th and 13th fleets to aid in the defense of diplomatic VIPs. Shock to my position and destroy all ships attacking the Assembly station.” He looked to the red alien, who had turned purple in the cheeks in a way he had to was anger. “You all seem to think we’re only good for one thing, so why don’t we put that thing to good use. Take a chance ambassador, we might surprise you.”
The chest-born rumble of shock drive jumps finishing within real space could be felt a moment later, and the red dots started to disappear from the holo.
“Good day ambassador. Perhaps we can pick this conversation up at a later date.” | 2019-11-14T22:18:02 | 2019-11-14T20:54:00 | 153 | 92 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck" | I knew it was one of those chain messages my friends like to spam me. I’m not a huge gamer in the shooty shoot kinda games, so the most I would have to worry about is endless bottomless pits or cartoon violence.
I type yes and feel a vibration. I drop my phone, but I’m the one shaking. Then a black screen comes up. Somehow I’m not unconscious, but more a loading screen. Then a text box appears.
“In order to return to the real world, you must win the game. Your prize will be everything you gain in this world. Good luck.”
There is no signature, and everything has become pixelated. It’s been a while, which game was the last one I played?
I’m at a computer, feeling really discouraged about this desk job. I open the drawer and find a letter from my grandpa. He left me his old farm.
Wait a second. This is Stardew Valley. I wanted to start a new game, but I got distracted and cut off in the middle of the cut scene. I had spent hours on the wiki learning the best crops to plant and what gifts to give each person in town.
There was only one problem. This game had no end. It could go on, ad infinitum.
Fortunately, it also was one of my favorite games. I liked it more than my own life, sometimes. So really, how hard could it be?
***
It’s been 6 in game years. I’m still missing a few minerals for the museum, but the rest of town has been completed. The community center is restored, the movie theater up and running. I’ve been happily married and divorced twice and turned my children into birds.
My farm is fully installed with sprinklers and a golden clock prevents any debris from appearing on my farm. My stats have been maxed out for a while now, I’ve gotten most achievements (and bought the hats to prove it), and generally have been enjoying the spoils of late game. Each morning I pet my cat before trying to find the next challenge.
The one thing that I haven’t gotten yet is the return scepter. I pretty much have every other item one can buy. This particular item can send the player home by raising it to the sky.
I think, deep down, I knew what it meant. Leaving this world I had put so much of my heart and soul into. Leaving the NPCs who I knew had preprogrammed dialogue but which I still cycled through each time I saw them.
So when I bought the return scepter, I had an idea of what it would do. I tested it out, raising it to the sky. Then everything went black like it did so long ago.
I have to rub my eyes because it still looks like my farm house. But, in the real world. I see the shadows and depths of objects that were lost in the 2D space. I race outside and find my chests lined up in rows. I open them haphazardly, finding piles of diamonds, rotting fish, and everything in between.
I was home, but maybe in a better version than how I left it. My in game cat rubbed against my legs and I felt myself tearing up with joy when I heard her soft mewing when I pet her. I didn’t know how much time had passed in the real world. I knew it would take a while to readjust (like remembering to eat, which isn’t necessary most days in game). But I knew my experiences in game would shape my real world experiences for the rest of my life.
[r/bluestarsshatter](https://www.reddit.com/r/bluestarsshatter/)
Edit: I’ve never been given silver before, thank you kind stranger! I’m glad people enjoyed my little story. | *Beagle's journal - Day 1*
I couldn't believe it at first—I refused to—but as the day wore on, as the sun warmed by body and the pain of hunger quickly became real, I had to accept my new reality.
This world. This beautiful, vast, dangerous world. I've visited it enough to know it well from a bird's eye view, but never long enough to say I'd conquered it—never had my colony actually survived.
The road is long, it will take years by in-game time to achieve the final goal, and one thought has followed me like death since I arrived here: who's deciding the events and what difficulty are they set to?
____
*Beagle's journal - Day 5*
As with the standard starting scenario, I've spawned with two fellow colony members. Bear is a massive fellow who seems comfortable with a rifle in hand, and he successfully defended our camp from two manic rats that seemed hell bent on devouring us all; though, it's become apparent that he has an unhealthy obsession with setting things on fire. I'll need to keep my eye on him.
My second companion goes by Greenly, and her skills with plants, preparing food, and training animals will be essential to our survival. I find her quite attractive, and I'm not sure how that makes me feel. Are these people real? Or are they simply pawns in this game I've been sucked into?
I've managed to build us a shelter using the wood Greenly provided by felling trees, and Bear assisted by digging into the mountain side. With a natural wall of granite at our backs, I feel that we will be safe from any threat.
Though it's still summer, the air is cooling fast, and in a few short months I believe these woods will be thick with snow. Our primary goal is to harvest enough rice to last the winter, and we'll need electricity to properly store it and, more crucially, to stay warm. Funny enough, when Bear isn't chewing up granite or shooting rabid animals, he's hunched over the crude research table figuring out how to propel us forward technologically—I just hope he doesn't set his notes on fire.
Everyone is getting testy with one another, but I'm nearly finished building a dining table and three chairs. I think having a proper place to eat will drastically improve our moods.
We had a cat, Morpheus. He was eaten by a wolf.
____
*Beagle's journal - Day 27*
An attack on our fort has left Bear a bit bloodied, but he'll survive. It turns out Greenly is well versed in medicine, which makes her all the more attractive to me. She mentioned the possibility of amputating Bear's injured leg and replacing it with a more efficient prosthetic, but noted that she lacks the skill and tools. The thought made me uneasy, I hope she doesn't bring it up again.
The attacker was a wild, nude women, and she managed to bite a decent bit out of Bear's calf. She used the boulders and trees as cover until she was within biting range, so I've begun clearing the area in front of our defensive point of debris. Bear gave her a couple of hits to the head with the butt of his rifle, knocking her unconscious, and I built a makeshift prison near our stockpile. I don't think she's worth the extra resources, but Greenly insists that if we nurse her back to health, she might have something to offer us as a colony. I trust her judgement.
Winter is nearly here, and we've managed a decent stockpile of rice. I've built electrical lines through the main lodge, but I'll have to wait until Bear is back up on his feet to continue; none of us can dig the steel from the mountain like he can. Once he's back at it, I'll have a few heaters going to keep warm.
_____
*Beagle's journal - Day 34*
Snow. It's falling silent and beautiful tonight, and with it comes the constant threat of death. The temperature has fallen dramatically, but we've prepared well.
With my heaters placed strategically throughout the fort, we're more than comfortable so long as we're not working out in the machine shop—I still don't have the steel to run lines out that far.
Our prisoner, Meica, has turned ally, and she's proven immediately useful. She has a knack for crafting clothing, using most of the hide we gathered early on from wild animals to fit us all with cozy parkas and beanies. I was right to trust Greenly, our strength grows with our numbers.
She and I have taken to playing chess for an hour before bed each night, and it's come to be my favorite part of the day. I built us two wolf-hide chairs to rest in as we play, and she joked that bits of Morpheus must be mixed into the cushions. She's got a dark sense of humor—I like that.
No chess tonight, though. We watched Bear and Meica build a snowman outside, nestled close together by a fire, comfy in our winter attire.
The granite wall I've been constructing around the compound is finished—double the thickness of our lodge's walls—and I feel safe inside with my friends.
It's nights like these that get me thinking... Maybe I don't need to win? Maybe I could stay here forever...
___
/r/BeagleTales | 2020-02-16T20:10:45 | 2020-02-16T17:51:33 | 1,652 | 59 |
[WP] The posters headline simply read “Giant vs Dragon” below it a dozen other fights between mythical creatures were listed. However at the bottom of the list read “Minotaur vs Kevin the rematch”. | Everybody watched the headliners. That was a fact of life. Everybody gets swept up in the spectacle, the myth, the millions--and forget entirely that the higher the stakes, the worse the fight.
It's always the bottom of the barrel that's interesting. Those grasping for survival, trying to stay in the game. Also, it's where everybody has to start. Once in a while, you see something special. Something that shouldn't be there. Something that could revolutionise the fighting world as we see it.
Today, that something was Kevin.
The stands were empty, save for the chronic gamblers and the few with nowhere else to go. Even then, they were rarely paying attention to the fight. The gamblers will tell you they are invested in the fight, but that's only because their money was riding on it. All they cared were about odds, numbers, and whether they eat or drank that night.
Not me. I was not a betting man. I learnt my lesson the hard way. But I was here. And I kept my eyes on Kevin.
In a world where mythical creatures fought, you would think that a human would be one of the least interesting things to notice. Most of the time, you would be right.
On strength, even the strongest human paled in comparison to a Minotaur, not to mention a Cyclops, or a Giant. On tactics, try battling the ages-old wisdom of dragons. No matter what, humans were outmatched in every single way.
The interesting thing about Kevin? He knows. He clearly does. You can see it in his careful footsteps, his wary eyes focused on his opponent's horns, fully capable of boring into every single part of the human body. His short, sharp turns, trying to abuse the Minotaur's heft against himself. Periodic trash talk, trying to taunt the bull-headed man into a poor decision.
Kevin knew he was thoroughly outmatched. But he didn't care. He wanted to do it.
Underlying each step was sure footing. Underlying each word was pure venom. Underlying each strike was iron will.
But it wasn't enough. Like I said, natural strength was too far of a gap. In fact, Kevin walking away from the arena a second time was already an extraordinary feat. He wasn't happy about it, however. But there was nothing he could do.
Not yet, anyway. Not yet.
I made my way down to one of the locker rooms. I could smell the human blood, guiding me towards my target. Slowly, I walked, and like I predicted, he could tell.
"Who's there?" Kevin said.
I turned the corner and looked into the door. He was gingerly unwrapping his hands. His wounds and bruises were fully on display, the marks of battle-hardened warrior.
"You don't need to know," I said. "I'm here to ask you one question."
"What do you want?" he said.
"That depends on how you answer," I said. "Would you like to become a monster?"
---
r/dexdrafts | I really wish the Minotaur would stop challenging me to fights. His point average during our brawls was getting so low that his chance of victory at the bookie's office was something like 1/27,000. You'd win $27,000 if you put down a dollar on a winning Minotaur, that's how little faith they had in him beating me. But here we were again...
He stood at the other end of the ring, which was actually just a burned out portion of the old Central Park. The Dominion Wars were not kind to human landmarks, but they're the ones funding the fights, so they can't be too down on their luck (unless they're betting on Minotaur). Min was just staring at me while I thought to myself, and it occurred to me that he probably didn't like that I just zoned out through most of his fights.
"In this corner we have the Minotaur, weighing in at a whopping six thousand pounds." The human announcer insisted on shouting this like a boxing match, when magic clearly invalidated weight classes. "And in this corner, we have Kevin Felder weighing in at a puny one hundred and thirty-eight pounds!"
I saw a glimmer of confidence in the Minotaur's eyes as he struck the ground with his hooves. That was our 60th rematch, and he still had that same confidence. That was something worth appreciating. He charged forward before the bell rang off to start the fight, but it wasn't much help.
Horns forward, he ran with the kind of furious accuracy you normally only got from angry toddlers. It made me feel pretty horrible honestly, but I flicked the air to send a pressure wave out at him. I only intended to knock him over, but I punched a cow shaped hole in at least six buildings at the ring's edge.
God as his witness, he jumped back out with as much enthusiasm as the last 60 times I blasted him through things. If only the rest of the world wasn't witnessing his fight too. As he blasted through the dirt in his charge, I considered throwing the fight to give him a reputation boost, but everyone would know I was pitying him with that. I decided to let a hit land instead... big mistake.
His horn separated with a sickening crunch, which was especially pathetic when you consider that I moved my rib cage out the way so he would just hit soft flesh. I was hoping he would at least break my skin with that hit, but no, we never get what we want.
He fell to his knees, clutching his head in agony, but he never let me heal him until after the fight. I felt like a bully, batting the poor fool around in front of a dwindling viewership, but it would hurt his pride more if I refused a fight with him. I decided to end it with one more hit.
I struck just above his collar bone with a kung-fu movie chop, hoping that flourish would be enough to distract from how lame his defeat was. I'd figured out that striking right there knocked him out with minimal pain, but I thought the audience was starting to catch on to my pity. He collapsed, but I didn't wait for the cameras to cut before I healed his horn back on. I normally wait for the viewership to leave before compromising his pride, but that ship had sailed.
He stood back up as the announcer came over, struggling to keep his composure after what I just did to him. We bowed to each other as a sign of respect before the announcer started his long string of PR bullcrap about how the fight was so close and hard fought, but I couldn't focus on that nonsense.
Min looked over at me (it wasn't hard for him to see me, he was 11 feet tall), and I could see the competitive spark in his eye. He was just itching to get at me again, which I respected. If we'd fought 50 years ago, then he would have annihilated me, but my ascension after the war meant we'd never be in the same weight class again.
His spark of competition reminded me of when I was human. It felt nice to be in touch with the underdog for once. I'd be fighting the Misty Mountain Guardians the next week, and they were a better challenge, but I would still remain undefeated. I think I liked it better when I was human, before the war, before the ascension. But I didn't have the luxury of thinking about that. The announcer belted out his final result:
"The winner of this match is the master of blasting! The champion of the Dominion War! The elevated himself! The new God of the Sun! Kevin Felder!"
*Yeah, let a god compete in fights, that's fair...* | 2020-05-15T08:11:14 | 2020-05-15T08:10:18 | 89 | 30 |
[WP] A reverse "girl-in-a-fantasy-world": a magical prince has to live on earth with a completely normal human family and deal with incredibly mundane problems. | "So you're saying I have to *pay* taxes?"
His recently-adoptive mother gave him a little smile. "Yes, dear. Was it not the same in your world?"
Prince Georic shook his head. "Where I'm from, people pay *us* taxes - which, I'm sure you'll agree, is a much more endearing circumstance."
"Yes, yes, maybe in your kingdom," Helen replied, as sweetly as she could, "but in our world you'll need to calculate your taxes every year and then pay it to the government, just like everyone else."
"Can't we just get some elves to do it?" he replied, and his newfound-father shook his head.
"Once again kid, there's no elves in America," Mark said. "No magic to speak of, as far as I'm aware."
"That sounds absolutely dreadful," Georic responded after a drawn-out sigh. "Well, I suppose our levy is at least not taxed too heavily? How much gold will the 'government' provide me with, exactly?"
His parents glanced at each other, trying to hide their concern.
"Oh, honey, no," Helen said comfortingly, "no, they don't give you anything. You'll need to get a job if you need money."
Georic sat in silence for some time, before coming to a dreadful conclusion.
"You mean they expect me to *toil* for my existence?!"
Mark grinned, putting his hand on his wife's shoulder.
"See, dear? I told you he'd get it." | “Tom-“
“Lord Ulrich!”
“Tom...”
“Sir Ulrich...”
“Tom...” the patient paternal voice continued.
“Ulrich.” The boy huffed.
“Tom, look at me, Tom...” The father in his maroon sweater vest and brown dress shirt loomed over the boy.
“Fine.” Tom, seated in a very large arm chair, looked up at his adopted father.
“We’ve talked about this. You can’t kiss sleeping girls.”
“I would awaken her and she would be my Queen!”
“Tom, Erica is your sister now. We don’t do that here. She wasn’t enchanted or poisoned - well..”
“See! She was poisoned! My true love’s kiss saved her!”
“Tom. She was drunk. You hate her. Is this some compulsion? Do we need to take you back to therapy?”
“No. No!” Tom gasped. He was wearing very princely attire; tights, a tunic, and a floppy hat - all velvet blue and trimmed with silver.
“I don’t know what to do with you. Just promise you’ll be good.”
“I have sworn an oath to uphold-“
“Here. To me!” His father barked.
“I promise.”
“Good, no more kissing Erica. It’s weird. Get outta here.” He jerked his thumb pointing out of the office.
Tom shuffled out of the den and into the kitchen. He snapped his fingers and sink started to pour, soap squeezed into the sink, the dishes started hoping into the sink and being scrubbed by the sponge gliding along it. Tom pulled out his phone and browsed while “he did” the dishes.
“Tom! You’re such a wonderful boy!” His adopted mom said. She was a little older than a mother of his age would be but still plausibly aged. “You’re a life saver.” She was walking into the kitchen from the garage with some groceries.
“Thanks mom.” He said.
“You’ve done enough, go ahead and go up to your room and play.”
“My fencing lesson?”
“Sure dear.”
Tom bounded upstairs and towards his room.
“Brother! Brother!” He heard Erica calling to him.
“What?” He said peaking his head into the laundry room.
“Brother, I’m stuck!” She said wiggling her butt while “stuck” in the dryer.
“Stuck!” He ran over and started pulling her out of the dryer while he held on tight to stay in.
“Is that a dagger in your pocket or are you happy to see me?” She giggled.
“I do not like to see you stuck-fast like this. It is the Dagger of Metcloth an ancient wizard who’s touch would insight fear of the...”
“I can’t. I can’t do it.” Erica backed out of the dryer. “You’re just ok weird. I don’t care how quaffed your hair is.”
“You’re unstuck? Fantastic!” Tom said confused.
“Erica, come back!” Erica’s boyfriend came bounding out of the closet with a camera in hand. “We need this for California!”
Tom flipped his wrist and the boyfriend tumbled down but still scampered off. | 2020-09-17T22:02:21 | 2020-09-17T22:00:37 | 87 | 14 |
[WP] You were once the demon king. "Defeated" by the hero, you went into hiding to pursue a simpler life. Today the "hero" has appeared, threatening you family to pay tribute, not realizing who you actually are. Today you show them what happens when you have something worth fighting to protect. | "Your race is revolting, your ancestors gone, your once great Demon Lord dead. And yet, you live here, on Earth, an abomination to all that is Holy," Elijah roared at my family. My human wife, my half demonic children, whilst I stood still, in my human form, one that Elijah had not seen as the form was once repulsive to me.
My children, however, did not have the power to hide even just their demonic eyes. Giant red and beautiful, my sweet rubies, my reason for living in this world. They cowered behind my wife, the light of my life. The one who accepted me. No, the one who overpowered me into submission with just the look in her eyes.
And they were being ostracised by the "Good" of this wretched Earth.
I continued to bide my time.
"We have done no harm," my wife said back with an unwavering, stern tone that did not show any weakness.
Elijah did not take well to being defied.
"You, woman!" Elijah yelled, clicking his fingers. His Royal guards matched to my wife and dragged her forward, forcing her to her knees.
"You will repent for your filthy sins. You will accept penance as you beg our Holy Lord for forgiveness for this heinous crime. And these creatures will be slaughtered, to join their kind in the pits of Hell," Elijah finished his infuriating speech. And then he turned to me.
"You, demon," he called, raising his hand to click his fingers again. I wasn't sure how he knew from my disguise and a part of me suspected he knew my wife before, but that wasn't really on my mind.
Before he could click his fingers, I flicked my finger forward and a bolt of lightning hit Elijah square in the chest.
"For Hell's sake, Satan! I told you *not* to show your powers to this freak!" my wife roared at me, going to smack my face.
"Ariel, sweetheart. He's murdering my demons. And threatened our children," I added carefully. Elijah was already getting back to his feet.
"Alright fine. This time, you can win. Just be back next week," she rolled her eyes.
That was all I needed. I transformed my body back into its original fiery form, black eyes, taller, my dark wings and tail flowing behind me.
My kids giggled as I flew into Elijah, throwing him back into the wilderness beyond our simple cottage and my simple life.
Last time, my wife told me I couldn't just take over the Earth. That Elijah will enforce goodness everywhere. We had made a bet. Should she be wrong, I'd run this world. And I would. However, getting the demons back on my side was going to be my real challenge, now that I was no longer the King.
And my younger brother was. | it was a nice rainy day when it first hit me, i learned to find confort in peasant work. lived a simple life for many years in the outskirts of the city, using human tools, as well as finding joy out of their entertainment, grew a farm and learned to sell it to some city merchants and wonderers crossing by. I became more human than demon, stopped using my powers less and less as days ent by to control peoples fears, to get everything i wanted, i had to, by then i was still defeated by the towns hero, Saint Jurist.
i was sitting down looking at the rain, and for just one second i thought “i actually enjoy this” i became humbled, but my demon was never gone, the real me.
years went by after that rainy day, i met this wonderer human, and believe it or not, she was so great that my repulse for human kind was ripped away from me. Now we have a beautiful daughter and i can say, ironically enough, that im happy.
2 days ago something i never saw coming happened. The hero that once took everything away from me, crossed my farm, followed by 2 dozen of his man... They stopped in front of my home, came to the door asking for tribute for their leader. knowing who he was, i couldnt help to be infuriated, causing a growth in my demon powers i hadn’t felt in decades. so strong i could feel my power darkening the sky, giving me the confidence i lost once upon a time back. I refused to give them anything, causing them to throw a blow at my face, which i stopped with one hand as i punched back with the other. Two of the soldiers tried to attack me and with no effort at all, i managed to bring them down. The power this hate towards him had giving me, made me feel like a god!
They all came towards me by then, and no matter how powerful i felt, how much i kept on knocking them out, they managed to get to the one thing i cared the most, my family. It brought my senses back, and the sky turned right back to the beautiful sunny day it was. They were ready to kill them when the Saint asked them to stop. He faced me and asked what was wrong, i was surprised that he didnt recognize me. He spoke to me like he would have to any other human. maybe it was my beard? maybe he had been so into his new god-like life that he didn’t remenber my face. I responded “im not giving you any tribute, you are just a human, the only reason u have all of this is because the gods helped you defeat the lord of the demons”. stroked by my answer he asked me who i was, and with no fear i said “i am the lord of demons, the lord of hell, the falle angel, i am Lucifer”
The hero responded, “so you are a no body”
“kill them all”
For once in my life, i feared. i wasnt sure why for a second, but after looking at the soldiers getting closer ad closer to my family i clearly realized the reason.
As they were getting ready to strike my wife, everything slowed down around me, something i had forgotten i could do.
simultaneously bringing the sky the darkest it had been in many many moons. underworld holes started to open up from the floors and demons that had been caged since, started to fly off, demons that had been stuck for millennia’s in hell ready to destroy the world by my side. I could see the fear on his soldiers, i could feel everything, counting the fear my family had for me... but i didnt care. I killed them all as the rest of the demons flew from city to city destroying everything in their path. The Saint is still in my tower i want him to see the world fall apart before i end him. He never saw it coming. What i cant stop thinking about is my family, i left them, gave them everything they needed but they dont see me the same anymore, they are afraid of who i am. who i was, and have always been. Almost losing them help me remember how powerful fear can be, but i am demon, im no human, and thats why i can use this power over and over again. I remenbered that this fear can give u power but it can also bring you down, so maybe it wasnt god that helped the Saint, maybe his fear gave him strength to defeat me. But i think im ok with that, they all should fear me, and im sure they all do now. | 2020-09-23T00:36:14 | 2020-09-22T22:12:22 | 34 | 24 |
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