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[WP] By now, most of the world has been overrun by zombies. You, and your group of friends, must travel to the last remaining human stronghold, as rumored by other travelers you’ve met. As you approach the designated coordinates, you immediately realize why the zombies could never reach it. | My muscles ache. The blisters on my heels have long since transformed into calluses. I plod onward as my shoulders droop under the weight of the supplies on my back.
In the past, I'd tried to keep the group's morale up. I told jokes, found tiny trinkets for gifts, sang. Anything that could take their mind off things for a few moments. I was the life raft their hopes clung to. But now, after all these weary miles, all the heartache and loss? I just don't have it in me any more. The life raft is full of holes and sinking fast. If we don't find something soon, we'll all disappear beneath the surface.
I pause to lean against a tree. The others stop as well, sinking to the ground or perching atop fallen logs. Each one shares the same vacant expression. Pulling the compass from my pack, it confirms that we're still heading north. If the coordinates are correct, we should be there soon. Somewhere just beyond the edge of these trees, lies the end of our journey. We'll either find our salvation, or...
Forcing my thoughts in another direction, I shove the compass into my pocket. "Come on. We're close."
Too beaten down to care, the others simply obey.
I keep marching up the hill until at last, there's a break in the trees and I spot it. Ahead of us, a large building, topped with a bright orange flag. Two pinpricks of light seem to move in front of the building – a pair of binoculars, reflecting the sun, searching the landscape. My legs shake. I swallow hard against the lump that forms in my throat. "It's real." I spin around to face the others. "It's *real*!"
Disbelief clouds their minds. They can't process it. I turn away, just as they come alive, whispering to one another. I push aside the branches and step past the last row of trees. And then, my heart plummets. First, there's a steep decline into a narrow chasm. Followed by a wide river with no bridge in sight. Finally, a sheer cliff.
I hear the footsteps of the others as they hurry to catch up with me. We're so close to safety. I can't let them give up now. I can't let the hopelessness take root again. Schooling my features, I plow ahead.
"No! How a–"
"Everyone empty your packs." I cut Katie off mid-sentence. "Sort everything into piles: food, water, first aid, miscellaneous, and non-essentials."
"But, Deon, how–"
"Katie, I need you to find all the rope we've got." She opens her mouth to protest again, but I raise an eyebrow at her and cross my arms. I *cannot* let that doubt take hold. She nods.
I walk back toward the others and the piles they've started. "Non-essentials are getting ditched." John shoots me a look, daring me to pry the photograph from his fingers. "If you've got pictures of loved ones, stuff them in your pockets. Anything else gets tossed. I'm not gonna have someone risking all our lives because they dropped Grammy's favorite Christmas ornament."
"Next, we're evenly dividing up all the supplies. I want everyone to have roughly the same weight to haul. Besides that, everyone needs to have easy access to their own supplies. We don't know what we're going to run into out there and we don't need to be wasting time trying to find that one first aid kit when no one can remember whose pack it's in." They nod and get to work. That's not the real reason I want the packs divided up, but they accept it anyway. Honestly, we just can't have all our eggs in one basket. If someone goes down, we can't risk losing our entire water supply along with them. But I don't dare suggest that we won't all make it.
Soon, the supplies are sorted and Katie comes back with the rope. "Okay, keep hold of that. We'll need it soon enough." I look at the others. "Alright, grab your bags. Single-file down this path. It's narrow, so watch your step. We'll take it slow." And with that, we're off.
I step onto the path and start downward, keeping my chest close to the rocky ledge. Gravel skitters underfoot and down the trail. The sun beats down on our backs. Sweat drips into my eyes and I pause to wipe it away. Looking back, I take a head count before moving on again. We're making good progress.
"Ah!"
At the scream, I freeze and turn to look. Rocks and dirt spill down the side toward the ground. Jayda, near the middle of the pack, dangles precariously from the ledge. I can't get to her, there's no room to move past the others. All eyes – terrified and pleading – turn toward me. "Dale and John. Get on each side of her, lay on your stomachs, and grab onto her wrists." They shuffle their way into position. "Everyone else, hold on to them as they pull. Ready? Go!"
Grunting and straining, everyone pulls. Sweat slickens our grips, but we all clamp down harder. Fighting, refusing to give in. The ground crumbles, narrowing the path even further. Tears slide down Jayda's face, but we keep pulling. Eventually, her shoulders make it over the edge. Then her torso. At last, she manages to get a knee hooked over the trail and pushes herself the rest of the way. She collapses in a sobbing heap. Dale and John, smiling at the victory, fall back to catch their breath.
Jayda wipes away the tears, leaving trails of dirt in their wake. She catches my eye and nods. "Let's get off this trail."
With a wave of my hand, we set off once again. Fortunately, the rest of the descent is uneventful. We make it to the river's edge. Its flow is too swift to swim across. But, we find a pair of ropes strung across the water. They're each attached to large trees and positioned one directly below the other. I take a deep breath. "Alright. we're going to shimmy across here two at a time. Put one foot on the bottom rope and walk sideways as you hold the top one." I notice John's knitted brow as he opens his mouth to protest. I turn away instead. "Katie, follow me."
(Part 2 below) | How do you get to somewhere that doesn't exist?
You don't, right? People always talked about the Bastion - right from the day the dead ones first appeared, probably before. "It's safe there," they said. "The dead can't touch you." But honestly, that talk never registered with me in the early days. I mean, people always used to rave about Machu Picchu or Göbekli Tepe, but I didn't immediately drop everything to go and visit.
Good job I'm not in charge of anything. Other people took this talk of a 'Bastion' seriously. They did *research*. There was even talk of *maps*. One crazy scientist put himself in the deep-freeze until he flatlined, in the hopes of talking to God and finding the answers. He was thawed out for long enough to scribble down some coordinates - a miracle in itself. But I guess talking to God is like smoking. You get addicted, and it kills you. That scientist plugged himself back into the freezer, when his colleagues were asleep. He's basically a Cornetto now.
I name him 'lucky'. Do you know how heartbreaking it is when the whole world is fixed on their TV screens, waiting for the scientists to crunch the numbers and translate Professor Choc-Ice's scribbles into actual functional coordinates - only for them to say that the coordinates aren't possible?
Because do you know where the Bastion is? You've got to go to some random cairn in the Brecon Beacons, and it's kind of... up a bit. Four miles, to be precise. And inside-out too.
What the fuck does 'inside-out' mean in coordinate terms?
Anyway, I'm here. The Beacons. The cairn, apparently, is just up a winding footpath. I say 'just up' even though it's a steep fucking incline. You know in Wacky Races when all the cars would just do these loop-the-loops and drive upside down and shit? It looks like I'm about to do the walking equivalent of that.
Carla's with me. She always is. We've been friends since we were three years old, always causing terror together. Miss Hampton, my Year Four teacher, said we were joined at the hip. That's slander. It was only PVA glue we'd used, and the doctors said it would have peeled away eventually anyway. And neither of us were naked either, so our hips never touched. We were joined at the skirt-pleat, at best.
Good old Carla, she always seems to know best. We're only here at all because of her good taste. We grew up over the border. Way over the border, close to Grimsby for our sins. But once she came to Wales and tried some Bara brith, and she came *obsessed*. I'm talking, sold our house in the middle of the night and drove us to a farmhouse halfway up a sodding mountain. "I can't live without my Welsh cake," she explained. But if that's the case, why would she keep eating Bara brith and never touch any welshcakes?
I digress. Welshcakes are great for a summertime picnic snack, but they lose their appeal somewhat when humanity is on the cusp of extinction.
As we're climbing up this mountain, a raven flies by. Carla says it's a raven. I didn't see it, so she might have been lying. If she is, she's a bloody good actor. She's crying now. Full on sobbing, body shaking and all. "Ravens are a bad omen," she says.
Maybe. The reanimated dead are a bad omen too, but she's never cried about them.
You know how mountain goats don't seem to notice the steep bits of their mountain homes? I think Carla is part mountain goat. She's sobbing and shaking all the way up to the mountain peak, and yet she never once breaks stride. Me? I lose my footing three times, and by the time we actually reach the summit I'm sweating so much Noah had best start building his ark again.
But we're here. At the top.
At the cairn.
And there's fuck all here.
I mean, I know four miles is quite high up. But it's a clear day. Surely I should be able to see some evidence of a Bastion. There'd be supporting pillars, groundworks, stairs... There's just the sun. I'm staring at the sun, scratching my head, thinking that I might go blind if I keep staring, but so what? I'm gonna be dead soon. We all are. Might as well have a bit of light in my life first.
Carla, meanwhile, is crouched in front of this cairn. To call it a cairn is, frankly, ridiculous. A cairn is a man-made pile of stones. I looked it up on Wikipedia. This looks more like someone tipped up a bucket of gravel. Seriously - a dog could trip over it.
"We're fucked," I mutter. Mainly because I grew up on movies. The lead actor always says something at their darkest point, and I feel like the lead actor in this story. You could call me the straight man - but neither word actually applies to me, so that would just be confusing.
Carla looks up. Her eyes are blank. Her brow is ashen. The sky, I notice, is darkling. Clouds have appeared - I swear it was clear sunlight a second ago.
Now the only sunlight is in her eyes. They're glowing, spectral, opaline spheres.
*Oh shit. Carla's a fucking ghost.*
"I'm not a ghost," she says.
Okay, so she's not a ghost. She is apparently a mind-reader though.
"I'm not a mind-reader either," she says - though at this point it's obvious that she is. "Heather, I lied about the Bara brith."
"You what?"
"The Bara brith. I can't stand the taste."
I think for a second. "It's hardly the time for that, Carla. The world's about to end." I don't know how true that is. The bloke who was maintaining the population ticker got killed two weeks ago, so it's hard to say how many people are left alive.
Carla shakes her head. "I've been on this Earth for thousands of years. I watched the Roman Empire rise and I watched it fall. I shared Boudicca's bed and Archimedes' bath."
Wow. My head is spinning. "Your English is pretty good, all things considered."
"It's all been in service of this day. I am the one who opens the gate."
"Does that make you a goddess?"
"I suppose it does," she says, with a little smile. "But my congregation is small. You're the only one who's ever worshipped me."
I blush and titter, and my heart swoons. And then I remember our time together as young girls. "You were born in the same hospital room as me, Carla. How can you be thousands of years old?"
"Don't you get it? The body is feeble. The soul is forever. It's time to let go."
I won't lie, I never saw the blade that killed me. I felt it, for a second. I just remember Carla's kiss, and the way it went cold as the blood ran down me. And I remember her weeping over me.
And I remember looking down at my body on the cold ground, Carla's hand in mine.
And I remember looking up, at the staircase of golden light that I could have sworn wasn't there before. And beyond that, the huge marble archway, the ornate lintel, the titanic statues ten thousand feet tall.
For a minute I'm confused and scared in equal measure. And then Carla smiles at me, and that confusion is forgotten.
"You killed me..." I mutter weakly, not used to my new, non-corporeal voicebox.
She smiles. "I set you free. Come, Heather. I'd like you to meet my parents."
_____________
EDIT TO ADD:
For Part Two - coming soon - see my subreddit, /r/booksoflightness | 2021-05-07T08:52:26 | 2021-05-07T06:46:01 | 332 | 220 |
[WP] An ambitious Fae gets a job as a receptionist. After all, what better way to have a ton of people willingly give you their name? | “It’s too many names.”
Hael leaned closer, “no… you got to be kidding me. You can never have too many names.”
“Yes!” Raelin exclaimed, “that’s what I thought! But then I got the secretary job and…”
Hael blinked, “sorry, I have to stop you there. What’s a secretary?”
Raelin chuckled, “apologies, I’m almost too adapted to human terminology at this point. You know how kings have advisors to ease the load of their job and have them carry out tasks and stuff? It’s like that.”
“So you work for kings?”
“Kings of capitalism. They don’t have royal blood or anything, but they’re just as rich.”
“Wow! What’s this capitalism? Is it a new kind of magic?”
“You know how we exchange names? Humans do the same thing with money. That system is called capitalism.”
“I’ve heard of money before, isn’t it metal? That stuff is dangerous to us.”
“They mostly use paper now, or crypto.”
“Crypto?”
“Don’t make me explain it. There are just lots of other ways, is all.”
“Wow… wait… what were we talking about again?”
“My job. It’s too many names. It’s exhausting. I even forget sometimes, or mix up names and schedule the wrong meeting.”
“You have so much name wealth that it's a burden?”
“Yeah, I mean, what am I going to do with them all?”
“You could share the wealth…”
“Oh! Hael, you’re brilliant! Currently, fae are limited in their advancements because we spend all our time mining for names, but if we could set aside only a small portion of the fae populus to obtain names the rest can do other things and exchange those goods and services for the existing name currency!”
“Oh, I meant just to me.”
“Ah… well, you’re still brilliant. Don’t worry, I’ll still give you a nice sum, but we have a chance to change the fae system for good, make it more like the human one which has a lot more freedom. Hael, didn’t you always say you wanted to be a painter?”
“Yeah, but…”
“But, with this new system, you’ll be able to! You’ll actually be able to receive names for your artistic passion!”
“Really? This system sounds too good to be true, I couldn’t imagine such was possible from those puny humans.”
Raelin smirked, “neither did I, but lo and behold! So, Hael, will you help me change fae society for the better?”
Hael grinned, “I’m in.” | # Soulmage
**Fentilielle's wings buzzed idly as she counted out change from behind the livingwood receptionist's desk.** "There you are, Kanbri. Your change amounts to five sticks and two stones." She smiled politely, showing all two hundred and sixteen of her teeth. Somehow, the human man didn't seem reassured, so she handed him the change with one arm, gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder with her second, and pointed at the vine-wrought staircase with her third, fourth, fifth, and sixth arms. "Rooms are on the second floor; if you need housekeeping, whisper your true name and we'll hear. Have a nice stay at the Eternal Hotel!"
"Er, yeah. Thanks." Kanbri awkwardly took the wooden disks of currency from Fentilielle's hands and left.
"You're welcome, Kanbri!" Fentilielle savored the name as it left her lips, tracing the paths it left through soulspace as its memory echoed around the man. "Next!"
"Er." A very, *very* young child—not much older than a toddler, in Fentilielle's estimation—walked up to the desk. They were still at that age where it was hard to tell whether they'd grow up to become a boy or a girl or something else entirely. Fentilielle leaned forwards, steepling two of her hands beneath her chin in interest. She'd heard eye contact made humans more relaxed, but somehow, the full gaze of her compound butterfly's eyes didn't seem to make the human any less tense.
"Hi. I think I'm lost," the child said.
"Rooms are on the second floor," Fentilielle helpfully said.
"No, I meant—" The child clenched their fists, and Fentilielle frowned. Something... was off. The child's soulspace practically *blazed* with sorrow and confusion, and there was a... void in it, where someone living and caring should be. Someone the kid had recently lost. "I need somewhere to stay. Just for today."
"Well, you've come to the right place. Tell me..." Fentielle looked at the child, and took a wild guess. "Tell me, girl. What's your name?"
The child stiffened.
Then they whispered, "\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_."
Fentielle frowned. She cleaned out one ear, then the other. Then she wiped down the fine network of sensory hairs that lined her body. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Could you say that again?"
The child's soulspace *roiled* with distress, but they repeated, "\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_!"
Fentielle tried to wrap her mind around the syllables, fit them to the person in front of her, but their paths through soulspace didn't meet. This name was not suited for the soul that stood before her. "I'm sorry," Fentielle said, "but I need your true name."
"That—that's the name my father gave me," the child whispered miserably.
And Fentielle understood.
"But you're not a girl, are you?" Fentielle asked. "And that name doesn't belong to you."
The boy shook his head, and his unwillingness to meet Fentielle's eyes had nothing to do with her lepidopteran apperance.
"Then tell me, little boy." Fentielle tilted her head. "What *is* your true name?"
Silence hung in the Eternal Hotel.
Then the boy whispered, "Cienne."
*Ah.* Fentielle savored the name in satisfaction as it *clicked*, resonating with the boy's soul. "Cienne," Fentielle repeated. "For that alone, I give you a day's sanctuary for free."
Cienne looked up. "Really?" He asked, disbelief written in his soul.
"Really. Your room is on the second floor." She paused, then added, "And if you need anything... whisper your name. Your *true* name. And we will hear."
Cienne gave her a tentative smile. "Thank you."
"The pleasure was mine," she said.
She watched the boy leave, his soul bright with the possibilities of a new day.
It was always a joy discovering a new name.
A.N.
Soulmage will be episodically updated. Want to know what happens next? Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/) to be notified whenever a new part comes out, and check out r/bubblewriters for more stories by me. | 2022-06-04T09:10:45 | 2022-06-04T09:01:18 | 197 | 70 |
[WP] 100 25 year olds have been chosen. each must choose a super power that cannot be repeated and cannot exceed the power of god. The goal is to see who can conquer the world. You have the number 100. The best powers have already been chosen. Then it's your turn and you choose..... | "Number 100. Please approach."
I strode purposefully into the center of the dimly lit gymnasium, tentatively eyeing the other God-Candidates as I passed.
Though the room lay silent, save the dull hum of the flickering halogen lamps which swayed dangerously side-to-side, the tension was so palpable as to be deafening.
They watched me approach the Speaker.
"What gift do you desire, Number 100?" He was the most average man imaginable, in terms of height, weight, build, and general looks. His race was ambiguous, and it could be said that absolutely nothing about him stood out.
But this in itself, was the most unsettling thing about him.
The slightest smile played upon my lips, and I ran a finger across the stubble covering my cheek.
"I wish to receive the gift of instantaneous relevant knowledge."
The tension in the room evaporated.
One of the God-Candidates, unable to contain himself, scoffed, while another sneezed. The room was a bit chilly, after all.
The speaker, however, said nothing for a few moments, simply gazing upon me, almost as if taken back. He understood what i'd asked for.
"It is given.", He said.
"Thank you, Speaker." I replied.
Turning around, I found the God-Candidate who had laughed upon hearing my choice.
Number 34.
As one of the earlier numbers, his gift was quite impressive, on paper. He had chosen the ability to regenerate instantly from any physical damage, making him functionally immortal. I yawned heartily, stretching like a cat, as I made my way over to him.
I leaned close, and whispered something into his ear. The smirk he'd been wearing was erased in the space of a few seconds.
Thus satisfied, I nodded to the other God-Candidates and lackadaisically exited the gym.
\*\*\*
Visibly shaken, Carl Riposte, otherwise known as "Number 34", thought to himself about what Number 100 had said to him. He would be thinking about it for a long while. The other God-Candidates talked quietly amongst themselves, already seeking to form alliances and hatch schemes. Carl however, was quiet, pondering the gravity of Number 100's words:
"*You have a pretty nifty talent, Carl. You could regrow an arm, a leg, hell...even a head, if such was necessary. But I wonder...Can you still drown? Well, anyway, be seein' ya Carl*." | God this sucks. All the cool powers are taken. From flight to fire breath. From teleportation to telekinesis. Now it’s my turn to think. I have to think long and hard about this one. Then I remembered it. As a kid I loved watching videos online and the main videos I watched were videos on the terrors of video games. I said as loud as possible
“I want the power to bring things to and from fictional worlds.”
People were silent at first. Then they started laughing.
“Look at this weirdo.”
“Go back to your cartoons.” They said, barely able to breath from laughing.
We were dropped back off on earth where the limitations of our powers were described to us. A man, who I could only assume was set by god, told me,
“You can take or leave up to 10 items per day in a fictional world. But every time you do pain will erupt from your body. To the point where when you send or take the tenth item you’ll be unconscious.”
I looked at him and grinned,
“That’s okay with me.”
I wanted to try my power on something small first. I reached out my hand and said, “ACTIVATE!”
I was suddenly in a blue room with a menu in front of me that l ooked like it was straight out of a video game. The same voice from before was behind me and said
“Here’s something I forgot to tell you. Whenever you activate this ability your spirit is sent here. When you go back out, it’ll be as if no time had passed. So take as much time as you need. But I will be the thing to harm you every time you use this ability. ”
I think again.
“Well, if I’m gonna get hurt over this I might as well make it work it. TAKE! FIRE FLOWER! SUPER MARIO GAMES!” I said loud.
“YOU DON’T NEED TO SHOUT! The being said. He walked close to me. And swiftly hits me in the gut. I immediately wake up. I throw up from the punch. But look in my hand and the fire flower is right there. I look at it and smile. I take a bite and immediately start sweating.
“Hot hot hot!” I repeat over and over again but then something changes. My clothes change color and I feel more powerful. I jump up and down.
“It works! It works!” I accidentally throw a fireball at my wall. And as the building collapses I remember something about the games.
“Oh no. Can’t get hit.” I burst through a wall and smile.
“IT WORKS!” I was barely done celebrating when someone screamed from above.
“Hey! You’re the loser who wanted to play video games right!” Oh great. I just got this ability and someone’s already trying to fight me. I scream back,
“Dude you can only fly. My ability’s cooler than yours.”
He shouted, “We’ll see who’s not cool.” As he backed up.
“It’s still yo-“ I couldn’t even finish till he hit me like a train.
“Still not cool?” He said while hitting me from all angles and laughing.
I raise my hand at him and say “Give.”
Suddenly we’re both in my menu. He’s tied up as the being looks at me and say “Already fighting?”
I ignore him and say “Give. Attack on titan. Season 1 Episode 1.”
He starts laughing and saying “Pfft. You think I’m scared of one of your shows.”
I ignore him too and ask the being “ Can I watch him to see what happens?”
The being says “Why not? I wanna see how this ends for him.”
He’s suddenly in the show. We watch as he gets mercilessly eaten by a giant humanoid. I smile an evil grin as he hits me.
“You’re disgusting.”
I awake on the battle field. His body is still there but he isn’t breathing. I go back in my house.
“I gotta think of a name for myself.” | 2022-11-17T13:25:31 | 2022-11-17T07:32:46 | 24 | 12 |
[WP] write a tragic story that happens entirely on the screen of a smart phone.
it could be a series of texts. but ideally it is more than that. facebook, email, twitter, vine, system messages... anything.
it needs to form a coherent story. | I'm such a fuckup.
Nah. You are the man.
You just need a girl or something.
Dave, You awake to talk?
Dude, its like 2am.
Just know I'm Sorry.
We going to get beer? Talk about whatever you wanted last night?
Dude, where are you?
Answer your phone.
Oh god. I don't know why I'm sending this. I'm sorry. I should have been there.
Happy Birthday dude. Miss you.
Well now it's been a year since you went. I just don't know.
I miss you. | > **Text Screen** 4:45 PM
^UNKNW: Joel, time is running out. The account is 138 19929 164 for confirmation. Do you need more proof your wife is with us?
^You: please don't do anything i swear I'm trying my best please
^UNKNW: This would not be the first time you did not deliver on a promise. The 40,000 needs to be wired NOW
> **SECU-BANK APP SCREEN** 4:49
ACC. TOTAL: 1,409
UNIT: USD
RECENT:
clear
> **Text Screen** 4:52 PM
^Jack: This isn't the first time you're asking for money, Joel. Last time you literally needed it to pay off the hooker you hired!
^You: please Jack, I'm begging you it's REAL SARAS IN DANGER
^Jack: Joel, please. I'm sorry.
> **SECU-BANK APP SCREEN** 4:56
ACC. TOTAL: 1,409
UNIT: USD
RECENT:
clear
> **Text Screen** 4:57 PM
^You: JACK I AM BEGGING YOU PLEASE! NEVER TALK TO ME AGAIN I DONT CARE PLEASE
^You: ITS REAL I OWE THESE GUYS SHITTONS PLEASE
^Jack: Joel, never talk to me again. The money should arrive. I'm serious, I'm sorry - you've been nothing but a drain since high school.
> **SECU-BANK APP SCREEN** 4:59
ACC. TOTAL: 41,409
UNIT: USD
RECENT:
clear
> **Text Screen** 5:02 PM
^UNKWN: I'm sorry Joel. We aren't kidding. We pulled through. Do not call the police or attempt to contact Sara. Enjoy being a model for our clients similar to yourself
^You: I HAVE THE MONEY
^*THIS NUMBER NO LONGER EXISTS. MESSAGE FAILURE.*
^You: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
^*THIS NUMBER NO LONGER EXISTS. MESSAGE FAILURE.*
^You: please
^*THIS NUMBER NO LONGER EXISTS. MESSAGE FAILURE.* | 2014-07-08T08:15:51 | 2014-07-08T06:42:32 | 32 | 10 |
[WP] At the age of 18, everyone picks an unlikely life event. They will be reborn at 18 every time they die until that event happens. After that, death is permanent.
Example - Winning a lottery jackpot. Statistically, they would die in 22 plane crashes in a row before winning the Mega Millions jackpot. | "They made a new season of Firefly"
My heart was all rose petals and bubbles. The air was champagne and I was lapping it up in quick hyperventilation. I finally got to live in a world with my favorite adventurers once again. They gave me hope, they gave me spirit, they gave me fulfillment beyond all else.
I was chastised for my choosing when I was 18, but you can't help what you love, and those who don't embrace it will only live life under dim light and low volume.
It was worth the few hundred years. | Everyone around me had a reverent desire to live forever....to never know the cold embrace of death as long as they could help it, and to always be able to go back to the best times of their lives. The reaction of those lining up at the clinics to get their fix when this technology came out was utter insanity-worse than a black Friday at some conglomerate retail shop. Anyways.
I was born with a pre-disposition to pain. I had a rough upbringing, which included being beaten senseless more times than I can count, living on my own since I was 12, having known hunger and sadness more than love and happiness. This has lead to me asking: What was the point of recycling life? Why the hell would I want to risk going through this over and over? Were people that afraid to move on? For all we know, there's something better at the end.
Maybe if this technology had come sooner, I would be more inclined to indulge. Maybe if I hadn't had to say goodbye to so many of those close to me well before their time because of the shit lifestyle we all lived, I wouldn't be so numb to death. When my wife left me because of the psychosis I was diagnosed with, and when I lost my job suddenly (even after offering incentives for change), I realized I don't have SHIT to live for. I can't even keep the fucking lights on because I am neck deep in debt. I have no saving grace to ever want to live over and over, because the unlikely and the worst has all simultaneously happened in my life.
I can't have children, I'm infertile. I can't seek help, because after my diagnosis I realized I am stubborn and have no respect for the medical system that continuously churns those of us who need help over and over to suck out what little money we have from us. Fuck the world, and as selfish as that may sound, it's my god damn decision to do what I want with my life.
Come tomorrow, I am going out on MY TERMS. Gotta love the Vicodin and Vodka mix for my vendetta against life. One last party before I move onto the next big adventure. | 2014-11-11T19:29:24 | 2014-11-11T19:16:51 | 49 | 18 |
[WP] A superhero tries to get himself classified as a natural disaster so people can get refunded by their insurance company when he destroys their home during a fight. | "Sorry Mr. Johnson, but---"
"I said call me Mr. Destructo!"
"Look, you can call yourself whatever you want, but we just can't classify you as a natural disaster."
"Why not?"
"Well, we read your case file justifying this... unusual classification request."
"And?"
"Mr. Johnson. You being a 'natural born' superhero doesn't make you a 'natural' disaster. I get it, childbirth is a beautiful thing, but that isn't what the 'natural' means in 'natural disaster!"
"Oh c'mon, I can't go out there saving lives while being liable for damaging the local infrastructure! That was a stretch, but it just isn't fiscally responsible for a young man with my credit rating to keep going like this anymore!"
"Big words Mr. Johnson, but---"
"Mr. Destructo!"
"Yeah yeah, we can sympathize with your position. Here's the thing though. You could just move the fight elsewhere, you know?"
"Hey, do you have *any* idea how hard it is to combat Nefaria?!"
"Not really, but that's not our point. This insurance company can't classify you as a natural disaster while you *can* have those big fights elsewhere. Hurricanes can't choose where to be. Tornadoes don't just spring up to spite a rural district. *You* destroying a neighborhood block---"
"That was Nefaria!"
"Fine, but you having implicit agency in that neighborhood's destruction is enough to throw out your case Mr. Johnson. If you chose to have that fight elsewhere, then that block wouldn't have been destroyed. Simple as that. Again, we sympathize with your position, but this just how it needs to be."
"Well what happens if I just let Nefaria kidnap all the senior citizens in that area for her experiments?"
"We, uh, would regret their disappearance for sure. However, if they were uninsured---"
"Oh this is messed up!"
"We're an insurance company, not one of your angry sponsors that has to keep covering your damages. At this rate Mr. Johnson, you may very well lose your superhero status."
"Oh yeah? Fine, I can play hardball too. Give me five minutes. Ten tops."
----------------
"Alright, turn on the news."
"What on earth for Mr.---"
"Destructo, please and thank you."
"Very well Mr. *Johnson*, lets see what you're getting at."
*Fellow Americans. In the past decades, we have grown increasingly dependent on empowered community leaders like Brickerman, Norman, Mary Zoo, Mr. Destructo and more. That being said, we have been doing them a disservice. The means and resources for these heroes to continue their noble,* **private** *work have been skewed unfairly against them, until now. With this, very sudden Executive Order, I am classifying superhero responses to Grade-B or higher villain attacks as natural disasters.*
"You son of a bitch."
"It's federal law. Got anything else for me?"
"No Mr. Destructo. We will lobby to repeal that order, mark our words."
"You can try. In the mean time, I'll just continue doing my part to continue *insuring* your safety."
"Drop dead Destructo."
"*Mr.* Destructo to you."
------------
*More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!* | Attorney Miranda Kline released the sheaf of papers to let them flutter across her desk, and leaned back in her chair and for a brief second stared directly into the light. She blinked, spots dancing in front of her eyes as she refocused on the woman in front of her.
"Miss Parr." She picked up one of the papers at random and glanced at the impenetrable array of equations. "I'm certainly not qualified to understand the science of what's going on. But if I understand you correctly ... you want me to petition the federal government to have your boyfriend declared a natural disaster?"
Persephone Parr, Force Majeure's girlfriend, coolly flashed her the smile that had graced the front page of so many newspapers, safely in her boyfriend's arms. "That's correct," Parr said. "I've provided all the necessary scientific evidence, and I've had it independently confirmed by Corbenix Labs. All we need now is someone to handle the legal part of the process."
"But Miss Parr, how can he ... You're telling me that he's no longer a person? As in, he no longer has a - has a consciousness? That he's essentially doing things at random?"
"Well, not entirely at random." Parr shrugged. "He's acting according to a set of scientific principles. Like a storm. Like an earthquake."
Kline rummaged through the documents on her desk and shoved a picture in Parr's face. It showed Force Majeure in his new 'energy form', energy bolts crackling off his glowing body, muscles bulging as he lifted half an apartment building over his head. "You're telling me - you expect me to believe that this isn't a person?"
Parr sighed. "He still partly retains his physical appearance. It's in the documents I showed you. But it's just like I told you - when he was hit by Professor Elemento's de-integrator ray, he was converted completely into energy. It's just a human-shaped ball of energy, that's all."
"But he's fighting the Disastronaut in this picture! Just like he always does! Balls of energy don't get into fights with supervillains."
Parr's fingernails tapped down irritably on the papers. "It's all in there. Many of his enemies have powers, emit certain energies that interact with his. It's like lighting striking a lightning rod. No difference."
Kline stood up and turned away from her desk, staring out the window. From her office she could see ground zero of their most recent fight, half a block rendered to rubble, buildings hollowed out and reduced to ash. "Miss Parr, I don't understand what the science says, and frankly I don't care. Think about what you're asking of me. You want me to believe that one of the most powerful heroes in the world is no longer legally responsible for his actions. That he could just - I don't know, sweep through the city next week and burn everyone to death, and the best we could do is treat it like a tornado or a hurricane."
"Oh, he's unlikely to do something like that." Her voice remained cool as a glass of water. "He's a ... very localized phenomenon."
Kline spun around to face her. "I don't understand how you can be so blase about this! He's your boyfriend! Your boyfriend is a natural disaster!"
"It's what he wanted." Another shrug. "Most of the equations are his, you know. He realized what he was turning into. He left me everything in his will, entrusted me to make sure that the world knew what had happened to him. And that's what I intend to do."
Kline sunk back into her chair. "You're fucking insane. I should've known. Who wants to get kidnapped by supervillains every five seconds? Who wants to be part of that sort of insanity?"
Parr rose to leave. "I supposed this means I can't count on your help. Thank you for your time."
"Wait!" Kline felt her stomach clench. "I'll help you. I'll do whatever you need. But ... just between us. Attorney-client privilege." Her voice fell to a whisper. "Why is he doing this?"
A slow smirk crept across Persephone Parr's face. "Why should he have to deal with any of this? Laws. Rules. Restrictions. I inherited everything. I've got his records, I've got his supercomputer, I've got his brain engrams. If he wanted something to happen, trust me, I'll be sure to let you know about it."
Parr stared out the window. Kline turned to see what she was looking at, but there was nothing but the gathering clouds.
"There's nothing to be scared about," Parr said softly. "I know him better than anyone. It's really a very small thing he's asking, Miranda."
Her voice shook when she spoke. "He wants to be declared an Act of God."
"Exactly. And how has God acted towards us so far? Earthquakes? Tornadoes?" Her eyes were fixed on some intangible point just beyond the horizon. "I think you'll find we've long been due for a change." | 2016-05-03T06:23:49 | 2016-05-03T05:39:09 | 160 | 76 |
[WP]You sold your soul to the Devil some years ago, today he gives it back and says, "I need a favor". | The secretary buzzed my office to warn me someone was forcing his way past her desk. I told her to call security, and she said he was already in the elevator. The distinct smell of sulfur filled the room, and I immediately understood.
"What are you doing here?" I asked. "Our business was done some time ago."
He was dressed sharply, as he always was. At least, any time I saw him. Black business suit with a red tie, and slick black hair. A pointed mustache made him look stereotypically French. "There's been some complications."
"Not on my end."
He thrust the contract on the desk. My contract. "It's all yours if you help me."
I chuckled. "What could trouble the devil so much that he'd need my help?"
"Someone far worse than myself is about to get the presidency."
"So stop her."
The devil shook his head. "It's complicated, but she used my own contracts against me. I need someone who has already cashed in their soul."
"I'm not giving up my wealth."
"Keep it!" He pushed the contract closer to me. "It's all yours, plus you get to keep your soul if only you help me."
I straightened my toupee. "Sounds like we got a deal."
-----
I do not support either Hillary or Trump. That's why they're both doing deals with the devil. | The sudden knock on my door almost made me jump, but I had been expecting it for almost two hours now. Happily, but mostly annoyed, I rose from my chair and started towards the door, smoothing down my velvet-lined dress.
With a frown, I swung open the door. "Richard-" I began, but I was instantly confused when the man I had called out to wasn't my date.
This man was tall and muscular, with eyes like the color of fire beneath a lake of ice. But soon my confusion gave way to anger.
"Marin-" the devil said, trying to step towards me, but I slid into the gap between the house and the door, and he stopped. "I need a favor."
Through the pit in my gut, I let a laugh seep out. "You need a favor from me? Why don't you ask one of your servants? They don't have souls either, right?"
He winced and produced a briefcase from behind his back, holding it out to me. "I will give you your soul back, if you help me."
The next thing I knew, the devil himself was sitting on my couch, nervously bouncing one of his legs up and down. "I know that I don't have any right to ask-"
"That's an understatement." I hissed, my violent glare silencing him, "You came to me while I was half out of my mind with grief, and told me you could make the pain go away. But you didn't tell me I'd be selling my soul."
"Marin-"
I pointed an accusatory finger at him and for a second, I thought I had power over him instead of vice versa, because he fell silent.
"You forced me to sell my soul with the silver lining that I'd feel better. Well you know what? I don't feel better. I'm still miserable, but now I'm heartless. So what makes you think that you can waltz in here and ask me for a favor?"
The devil didn't meet my gaze. He looked absolutely defeated, while my veins were on fire with excitement. I had been waiting to get that off my chest for some time.
"What can I do?" He asked it so quietly, I had to lean in to hear him. "What can I do to get your help?"
I thought about it for a moment, even though Soulful Me would have already spewed her answer. Soulless Me couldn't feel the pain I felt after he died, but his absence was still like a wrench in my heart.
"You will bring him back. Completely healed. And my soul comes back too." I said, my voice emotionless.
The devil jumped up from his seat, but I couldn't tell if he was happy or annoyed.
"You've got a deal." He said.
Knowing how deals with demons were signed, I wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him towards me until our lips met. Whatever he had in store for me, I couldn't tell, but without my soul, I wasn't afraid. Maybe that was why he came to me. | 2016-06-27T10:20:35 | 2016-06-27T07:39:08 | 41 | 20 |
[WP] You're new girlfriend turns out to be a psycho mass murderer. However she's deeply in love with you and would never do anything to harm you. | The first time she came home with blood on her clothing, my hands shook so hard that she was able to snatch the phone from me before I could call the police. She sat me down, staring at me with familiar brown eyes as she spoke in a calm, steady voice for all of ten seconds before I blacked out. When I woke up, the apartment was clean and she smiled as though nothing happened. I let myself believe nothing did.
The second time, her hair reeked of sweat and cigarettes. She wore her favorite navy hoodie, which was now drenched in blood. I vomited, adding another sickening stench to her sneakers. Her gentle reassurances drifted into my ears in between my heaves as I emptied out my stomach.
The next few times were a blur. I might have gotten sick again. I definitely cried. But each time, without fail, she would rub my back and promise me that I was safe with her, that she actually wasn't doing anything wrong... Her victims were bad people. I didn't ask for proof. The less I knew the better.
The most distinct instance had to have been the eighth. I remember it clearly because it was the only time she wasn't cool about the whole situation. She arrived in a panic, shedding her foul clothes and immediately dumping them in the bathtub. Her hair was a mess and she was muttering anxiously under her breath. When I asked her what was wrong, she admitted there had been a witness this time. He got away before she could do anything, and, in a blind panic, she had run home. She burst into tears in my tense arms. I kissed her repeatedly, praying that everything would go well in the end.
We watched the news with baited breath each night for three days straight, until finally the news anchor broke the story of my girlfriend's last victim. The witness reported the killer as being "a woman in her twenties, with long brown hair" and the accompanying sketch showcased a woman with a nose too thick and eyes too small to look anything like my red headed girlfriend. I found myself cheering, and we celebrated with the most passionate sex we had had in almost a year.
Now, she's out on her 27th hunt, and I'm home patiently awaiting her arrival. I have a warm bath running for her, and a thermos full of her favorite tea on the table. I believed her when she said she would protect me. It was all I could do to return the favor. | “I’ll never leave you,” she always said to Carl, as she sauntered out the door, onto her next victim. He knew what was happening, but he loved her with everything. Cindy was a serial killer. She had a tendency to behead her victims, always keeping some sort of trinket from them. Carl memorized these prizes, as he usually stayed home. There was the lock of hair from the blonde girl who Cindy cut into “itty bitty pieces” and buried all over the place. Cindy said she looked like she wanted to be spread out, so she did her a favor. A man’s brown leather belt sat beside the hair, the silver buckle buckled in a worn out slot. She shot him in the chest, beheaded him, and drank his blood. He, she claimed, wanted to be inside her. A crystal wind chime was taken from a small old woman’s home, her most merciful kill. Cindy explained that she asked her to die. She pulled the plug, and left small bags of lavender and sage around the room. She was spiritual like that.
Carl was a quiet, but understanding man. He knew she just meant well, and maybe overlooking the whole serial killer thing made him crazy in his own sense.
She didn’t have a great body, she was slightly overweight, but extremely fit. She held a job as the CEO of a thriving company, a job that allowed her a lot of time off. Her blue eyes were bright and cold, hard diamonds in a sea of creamy white. Her dark hair was short, and unappealing. Carl always thought she would look better if she grew it out, but she never listened to him. In what seemed like minutes, she was back. Carl heard the door slam. Something didn’t go great.
“Goddamn asshole, asking me to scalp him, and then turning out to be a damn pig.” She slammed a wet knife into the wooden table, storming past Carl as if he wasn’t there. She sighed, and turned to him. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You know how I get when… things don’t go well.” She gave him a small peck on the cheek, and brushed back his hair. Some strands fell out. “Aw, honey, you’re getting a little old, huh?”
Carl nodded, and smiled at his goddess. She kept him alive, she kept him healthy, she listened to him. Without her, he’d be like one of her victims, a headless body. She kept his head, and he appreciated it with all of his heart.
“Always a man of few words, huh? I always loved that about you, how little you demand of me. Let me start dinner. How about… carrots and pot roast? Your favorite, because of that little outburst before,” she paused for Carl’s response.
“Sure, that sounds great. Thanks.” Carl said, smiling. He felt some of the hair coming off of his head, but continued to smile, even though it started to hurt.
Cindy turned, cheery. Suddenly, something snapped. She started to giggle manically. Her laughter filled the room, her insanity bouncing off the walls.
“Dearest,” she started between gasps of air, “I need to tell you a story about this one,” she pulled a bloody scalp from her bag, and began to laugh again. “I thought it was perfect for you, with your hair falling out and all. This one wasn’t for me. It was for you. I know your hair is falling out… and I just thought, how perfect! So… how do you like it?” She laughed again as she heard the head’s voice telling her how wonderful it was.
She kept his head, and he appreciated it with all his heart. Without knowing that his body was buried somewhere under the house, he’d be just like one of her victims, a headless body. Carl had long forgotten what anything had felt like before Cindy, and he didn’t need to. She would never leave him.
(critique always welcome) | 2016-07-23T18:14:57 | 2016-07-23T16:23:44 | 117 | 18 |
[WP]You decide to commit suicide, but as you pull the trigger on the gun, it malfunctions and a letter appears stating, "I am very sorry to inform you that your admission to the afterlife was not accepted." | In a kneejerk bout of rage, Rob put the 12 gauge under his chin and yanked the trigger.
*Snik*
Rob gasped at the sheer luck. It couldn't have happened... He looked at the gun just to make sure. Safety off. Pump racked. A fresh shell in the hole.
"Are you serious?!" Rob exclaimed. He racked the slide and watched the shell hit the coffee table. A solid dent from the pin proved the gun did it's job.
"Fucking misfire..." Rob grimaced. And with that; he racked the slide and quickly squeezed again.
*Snik*
"Wh-wha... WHAT?" Rob said. He froze in place for a moment, as if things didn't make any less sense. He glanced up. He should be painted on the ceiling right now. Racking the slide produced the same result.
Rob quietly mused, then aimed at the Vase next to the TV. The shot blasted the vase into shards, the 00 Buckshot shredding the bricks in the wall. Rob immediately clutched his ringing ears in utter pain.
Letting them ring; he noticed some else ringing. His phone. Picking it up, he listened intently.
"...Hello?" Rob said after managing to compose himself.
"I am very sorry to inform you that your admission to the afterlife was not accepted..."
"Say that again?" Rob stammered.
"You have a purpose. You've yet to discover it. Stay, if not for yourself, for those who need you."
The call ended with a audible click. Rob listened to the dead air on the other end for a moment. He studied the phone, then the shotgun yet again. He picked it up, and checked the trigger.
Clicking on the safety, he set it on the table, and breathed for a moment. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled the small piece of paper he'd found in the laundry that morning. An old fortune stamp from a Chinese place on 33rd he'd frequented months ago. He studied it again just to confirm what he didn't accept earlier.
*"People learn little from success, but much from failure."*
"I could go for some Chinese..." Rob admitted to no one.
--
Dear Mods: Please don't give me crap for this. It's in the Prompt itself. If you wanna' delete this or something let me know. I know this is a touchy subject with you guys or whatever so let me know if this is unacceptable writing. Thanks. | "You think we'll make it to the end of the tram line within 2 hours?", a voice said to the side
"George? You there mate?"
George turned to his friend, a blank stare on his face.
"Uh, yeah sure, whatever Ethan", George said.
George tried to remember what they were talking about. He really did try to remember this time. He used the phrase he had discussed with his mandatory therapist. "Your name is George Hilesky, you live in the people's bureaucracy of North America and your assigned queue priority is 3,478." He always lingered on that last part, as if it was somehow important that he started 3,478 in line on every public queue. It was important though, George had always been taught about those who lived in poverty. Those like the old lady who was always so kind to him. The old lady who was number 10,000 , who died of starvation waiting in the luxury dinner line. All she wanted was to show her son she cared enough to provide a good meal for his 30th birthday. It was foolish for such a high numbered individual to wait in such a packed line. Like a stray dog waiting for an owner that will never come.
"George are you even listening to me?", Ethan said
"Uh..."
"Shit", George murmured under his breath. He was going to get another hour in therapy if he kept this up.
"You did it again", said Ethan
"Yeah, I guess I did, my mind just kind of.. trails off sometimes" replied George
His whole life George had trouble staying in reality. At a young age he was often mocked and made fun of because every time his age group got in the learning queue he would always freeze up and clog up the line. His teachers would have to call a mandatory discipline worker to snap him back. Despite his short comings though he wasn't all that useless , for one; his active mind landed him a nice job and a nice number, but he just never seemed to fit in. George was surprised that he even had a friend, given his terrible social skills. Even when his mind wasn't having a grand crusade he still managed to fuck up every conversation his blasted words touched. It always went down the same way
"Hey George hows it going"
"Y-you too"
If they didn't immediately flee the scene after that line they definitely left when they realized he was just going to stare at them until they did.
George opened his eyes. He was suddenly on the tram, headed home. He was surprised to see that it was dark outside, save for the occasional street light to illuminate a porta-potty queue. As he stared into the blackness behind the window George wondered if there was anything beyond the world he lived in. Beyond the lines, beyond the endless waiting, the mind-numbing monotony of existence. Was there something more in the afterlife? Maybe there was. Maybe there wasn't. He decided it was still better than waiting 5 hours for a bowl of soup. He yearned for the instant satisfaction of death. Suddenly George lurched forward as the tram came to a stop, it was time. George stumbled through the dark street. His house was about a mile away from where he got off. He would occasionally cut through a line so he could pass. It was against the law, but what could they do to him now? Make him wait in another pathetic line?
George finally reached his house, made his way up the stairs, and grabbed his mandatory self defense firearm. It was almost over. George raised the barrel of the weapon to his head. He pulled the trigger and heard the gunshot, he even felt the bullet pass through. But as he opened his eyes he was still there. Defeated he slumped over to his bed. He was about to lie down and sleep but something caught his eye on the dresser to his right. It was a small folded piece of paper with bold text on the inside. Your number in the queue to be passed on to the after life is currently: 100,471, Expected wait time: 192 Years.
"fuck"
First prompt,it's probably shit but I hope some of you enjoy it. Feedback is appreciated. | 2017-01-10T23:22:06 | 2017-01-10T20:46:41 | 25 | 15 |
[WP] You, an overworked scientist, have just sold your soul to the devil so your life's work will become widely known and help millions of people. The devil comes back the next day and, instead of taking your soul, asks you to take his teenage daughter off his hands. | "Your daughter." I glared.
"Y-Yes. I need you to take care of my daughter." Satan muttered, then straightened himself," I know you've taken care of a child."
"Yeah Luci, but she isn't the daughter of the Demon King, and besides, I'm a single mother and my work is killing me, I can't take care of another teenager." I took a sip from my glass of Coors.
"Look. She's a huge burden on me. I've taken care of her for years, but I can't do it anymore.."
"And why's that?"
"Jeannine. I'm the damn Devil. I have the whole damnation stuff to attend to."
I adjusted my glasses," And what's in it for me?"
He pondered for a moment," You're a scientist, right? I can give you endless knowledge! I can make you the smartest woman in the world!"
"Do I have to give up my soul?"
"No, not at all! Taking care of Lena is all I ask of you!"
"Hmmm... Alright. I'll do it."
"Alright." His eyes rolled back and he began to chant something unintelligible. I could see blood coming out of his nose as his chanting got louder and the ground began to shake. This continued for about twenty more seconds before a small portal opened behind him. After the portal opened, he immediately stopped.
"The knowledge has been imbued within you. Now just give me a few minutes to talk to Lena." He walked through the portal, closing it as he left. Soon after, Marie came running down the stairs.
"Mom, what the hell was that? The house just started quaking!" She was obviously shaken, I could see the bits of plaster in her hair.
"Marie, I'll explain everything later, but for now I just need you to-" The portal reopened, and Satan came out with his daughter.
Lena was a rather short girl, with brown skin and black hair tied back in a messy bun. She was wearing a simple grey shirt and jeans. The only noticeable difference about her was the slightly sharpened fingernails. She had a fair amount of bags and a backpack on her back.
"Holy shit." I could hear Marie mutter under her breath.
"So how long is she staying here?" I said, picking up my books that fell.
"I don't know precisely. She's always been talking about visiting the human world, she's never been, always interested in the human race, always on her phone, reading about it." He chuckled a bit, placing his hand on Lena's shoulder.
"Dad! You're embarrassing me!" She shouted, taking his hand off her shoulder. "You can go dad."
Satan turned to me and whispered," I'll come back for her when you meet Scott."
"Scott? Who's-"
"Alright, I gotta go! Gotta damn some tortured souls! Love you cutie-pie!"
"Dad!" He was gone. Lena calmed down a bit and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Hi!"
"It's nice to meet you Lena. I'm Jeannine and this is my daughter, Marie." I gestured towards Marie.
"That... That was the Devil?" Marie muttered.
"Yeah, he's a real handful." Lena giggled a bit.
I looked over to Marie, she was obviously blushing a bit. Maybe it was shock from seeing Satan.
"So, Lena, I know this isn't the right question to ask, but do you, like your father, have those crazy powers?" I asked.
"Yup! I don't use them though, no need to."
"Alright. Well, food's in the fridge, and since it's summer vacation, Marie and I can show you around the city, and until I meet whoever Scott is, you'll have to go school." I smiled and sat back down," Now I gotta get back to work. Your dad gave me limitless knowledge and I want to put it to use."
Lena smiled," Alright."
That was the start of some of the greatest years of my life.
Taking care of two teenagers is difficult. Especially when one is the teenage child of Satan. The most difficult part of it was getting her used to school, for she was under the assumption it was like Highschool Musical. But luckily, me and Marie were able to help her. Mainly Marie, they were always close. I always love bringing up the Highschool Musical thing, it made so many people laugh at her and Marie's wedding.
As for me, I was able to get enough of my work published to make a name for myself. I made a good amount of money, and I was recognized as the smartest person in the world, suck on that Stephen Hawking.
I never met Scott.
| *I have a different option for you if you wish to keep your soul.*
I remember the sweet words of the devil as I thought about the alternative. But to think me, Dr. Eye, the modern innovator who found the cure to myocardial infarction, the most respected and youngest researcher in the entire scientific field, #2 of Time's Magazine of Most Influential Men, to be stuck with babysitting duty.
Not only that but for an entire month? Preposterous. A month of potential theory crafting and research went to complete waste for this?!
"I should have just sold my soul" I rolled my eyes as I flipped my pancakes, preparing breakfast for Fino -- daughter of the devil.
"Hey old man!" A loud whining grew louder from upstair, "Hurry up with the food. I am so hungry. Can you even cook...? I swear even the lowlife demons at my castle cook better than you..."
I sighed as I finished the rest of the breakfast onto the plate -- scrambled eggs, pancakes, and bacon. This is rather unfortunate. A princess-type of girl who knows nothing about respect, dignity, and human morality. A man with culture and intelligence shouldn't be stuck with someone like her.
I watched her chow down her food like a beast as I wrote in my notebook about the possible theories to cancer. Being blessed with incredible insight, I could imagine things that would be impossible for normal scientists. Tradeoff? My soul after I die.
*All in the name of science. Without innovation, there is no future.* I slowly nodded to myself and smiled as I thought of a new theory.
"Creep." Fino said as she licked her plate. "Only lunatics nod to themselves and smile."
"Says the girl who eats like my dog." I rolled my eyes, taking her plate. "Anyways I will be in the laboratory if you need me." I threw a bunch of the newly purchases of dolls, princess books, and toys onto her bed. "Have fun with those."
"Huh?" She glared at me as if I was stupid. "You think I can be satisfied with these human garbages? Please old man. My hobbies include torturing humans and watching them massacre each other. You know I am not 5."
*Torture? Did she just say torture.* "Well whatever, you can't do that here. I'll take you out later to the mall or something. Just leave me alone for an hour." I waved as her eyes light up at the sound of mall, "Later."
"No. We depart now, mortal." She stood up from her bed, still in her nightgown. Her eyes brightened as small inferno flames filled her pupils. "I am quite intrigued with what humans called the mall. Take me now."
"NO. THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NO WAY---"
"Wow. So this is the mall!" Fino said as she marveled the various tall architecture inside, peppered with various stores. "Amazing! Truly utterly amazing! I might get my father to gift me one of these for my birthday."
"Yeah, yeah" I waved my hand as I sat down on one of the benches. "I'll be here if you need me, now go off. Shoo shoo."
She glared at me for a bit. She was about to say something but decided not to and ran off to H&M. I shook my head as I continued.
Yes. I am onto something. I can't tell but when I utilize my gift, it's like I am inside a grand library full of limitless knowledge and I search for what I want. It takes time but the answer is there. All I need is time to seek it....
*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*
My cellphone app rang as I facepalmed. I quickly got up and ran to where Fino is. The devil had specifically implemented this app in cases where Fino gets into big trouble.
"..You bastards!" Fino yelled as she pointed her fingers at three nearby boys, "Do you not know who you are speaking with? Apologize now and I will consider sending you to the 5th tier of hell instead."
"What is this girl going on about?" A boy with a cap said, "Is she crazy?"
"More like retarded." Another boy in white tank top said and laughed.
"Oh. you'll regret what you said alright." I feel her channeling her energy, preparing a spell to incinerate her targets. This is not good. I ran forward and quickly hugged Fino in which she disabled the spell and looked at me in surprise.
"Sorry fellahs, my sister likes to play pretend." I bowed my head as I could felt a crowd start to form around us, wondering what the commotion is about. I turned to Fino, who folded her arms and looked away. "Come on Fino, let's go."
"Yeah that's right bitch! Walk away." One of the boys said as we slowly walked to the bench. I stopped midtrack and walked towards him.
"Listen. I don't know who you are nor do I care." I stared at him in the eye as he walked back a little bit, unexpected of my reaction. "But you do not call Fino a bitch. Learn your manners little boy because I do not mind putting a fist into your face."
"Al..right." The boy said and turned to his friends, "Let's go.."
I sighed as I walked back to Fino who looked at me with a mixed surprised reaction.
"What?" I looked at her as she looked away.
"It's not I needed your help or anything from those insects," Fino muttered under her breath, looking away from me. "I could have done it easily myself."
"He crossed the line for saying those words." I said, "Even then, I rather you not do what you are about to do. It's better if I take the blame." *The devil would kill me if Fino used her magic in this world*
"Well..." Fino said under her breath. "Thank you... It's not everyday people stand up for me." I looked at her with puzzled reaction and she punched me lightly. "Come on old man, let's go to that store over there. Don't be slow."
She ran off ahead as I looked at her thinking about what just happened. *I guess she does have a cute side.* And so this begins my babysitting adventure with the devil's daughter -- Day 1. | 2017-06-10T22:20:17 | 2017-06-10T22:12:00 | 393 | 34 |
[WP] Despite having pink hair, a tragic backstory, and untold magic power, the narrator refuses to make you the main character | The story of Josh
A mighty fine lad
He lives in Kentucky
With his friend Chad
 
And every day
On his way to work
He walks past this loser
God, what a jerk
 
Some kid with pink hair
An orphan at birth
Some say he’s magic
No way on earth
 
He’s just a nobody
Don’t focus on him
Keep looking at Josh
And his boss, Jim
 
Josh was caught sleeping
Passed out at his desk
And Jim got real angry
Very hulk-esque
 
So, Josh was fired
And on his way home
He saw that same loser
And let out a moan
 
“My god!” He exclaimed
And pointed in shock
The kid with pink hair
Had lifted a rock
 
Now, this rock was special
Not a pebble, you see
This was a boulder
A monstrosity
 
He hurled it some distance
And shouted with rage
“NARRATOR, I HATE YOU,
GIVE ME A PAGE”
 
But the narrator ignored him
And kept out of sight
He followed Josh home,
And wished him goodnight
| Newman Freaking Highzendisc, the main character in our high-school tale of discovery and mystical development, stood at the front of class giving a surprisingly unoriginal speech about the use of frogs tongue in velocity potions. At the end, he gave an elligent bow and everyone stood to clap. They actually gave him a standing applause... And in return he shot us his famed panty-dropping grin. Ugh. These people were acting like he was the first wizard to even think about using frogs tongue in such an application. Psh. I could have given that same speech if J.T Loomis would have thought to give me a chance.
Instead, I sat in the back of class, my pink curly locks pulled back into a bun to hide the grease. Nobody would know this though, because our beloved author wouldn't bother to mention it. I'd been up for seventy-two hours preparing my speech and a demonstration. I didn't have time for higene. I was up next after Newman, this was my chance to show these clowns what real genius was.
My topic of choice was the affect of ginger root juiced and infused with cuagulated dragon fly matter. I even prepared a demonstration. Thanks to Newman, I never got the chance to present it. The bell tolled for class to end while everyone was still applauding his overrated ass. Mrs. Zenith told everyone who didn't get the chance to present that they could turn in their papers. Ya know, because I didn't just bust my ass working on this project?
Then to make matters better J.T. Loomis spent thirty seven goddamn pages talking about Newman's boring-ass-wholesome childhood! The dude was practically raised by angles. Who cares? Loomis has a whole notebook full of my homelife and all he uses it for is a comparison factor. I'm obviously more interesting because of my tragic upbringing - mommy dearest used a heat potion to cook daddy alive because he tried to take me from her. Then she dragged me all over the globe so I could help her scam old guys out of their money. Not saying this didn't affect me. It absolutely did. But having to listen to Loomis and his peanut gallery dote on fucking Newman Highzendisc really is just rubbing salt in the wound.
Thats why I set up this ritual in the middle of campus square. When people ask what's wrong with Newman, he'll have no choice in his puppet state but to lead them to the source. Even my creator, J.T. Loomis won't be able to ignore my ability when he sees what I was able to do with his beloved Newman. I didn't even need a piece of his DNA! Haha! They'll all wonder how I did it! But as the cliche goes, a magician never reveals his secrets.
*First submission to a writing prompt. Didn't spend as much time on it as I wanted but any constructive criticism is always welcome, thanks for the read and the fun promp!* | 2017-12-18T20:19:09 | 2017-12-18T18:15:58 | 415 | 24 |
[WP] After a period where Lizard People, Aliens, Shapeshifters, Werewolves, Vampires, Guardian Angels, Cyborgs and the like were all outed as hiding as humans, it’s realized that, between all the hidden races acting like people, there are no actual humans left on earth. | Antonio was never really one for public places. His mother always told him 'A Lizard Boy keeping away from humans, is a Lizard Boy keeping away from danger.'. Words he had lived by for his entire adolescence. It had made making friends virtually impossible and his social life non-existent. And what for?
*Avoid being seen huh?*
He scoffed.
Yet another hidden race was discovered just yesterday. Other than theirselves, there were Aliens, Shapeshifters, Werewolves, Vampires, Guardian Angels and now even Cyborgs? Were there even any actual humans left on this planet?
Antonio looked up at the sun, sighed deeply and put his hoodie back on.
*I won't be taking the chance, not this Lizard Man. Not today.*
He made his way down Anthrobury Square and stopped in front of a tall building with a billboard that read 'Boulangerie'. French for bakery. For some reason people in this city found translating words into French made them seem 'chique'.
Antonio stepped inside and took a quick glance at the people in front of him. The man behind the counter was hairy on his arms and had a beard that covered a considerable part of his neck. *Obviously a werewolf.* The man talking to the werewolf-baker glared at the baker while telling him to 'get that dirty garlic bread away from him'. Antonio stepped in line.
"Hey, a fellow scaled guy! We're a rare breed around these parts!"
Antonio turned around with eyes full of shock.
"Not so loud", he hissed.
"Relax buddy, we're all friends here. Let me tell you this: hu-ma-ni-ty is dead." The Lizard Man grinned. He was carrying a flask of what appeared to be some kind of rum, judging by the smell of it.
The werewolf behind the counter made a sound which resembled both a growl and an impatient clicking of his tongue.
"No booze in the shop."
"Alright alright, I won't drink inside. I'm sorry." The Lizard Man held up his hands in a surrendering pose.
Antonio didn't care for any of it and tried to make himself unnoticed by covering his face further with his hoodie. The other Lizard Man didn't seem to mind and continued.
"I'm serious though. When I heard the news of cyborgs being discovered, it clicked. Humanity simply doesn't live anymore. It's just us. Isn't that ghastly?"
"Right."
"Take that guy leaving the store for example he's a... Hey you!"
The man turned around with much the same look as Antonio had a minute ago.
"You're one of them cyborgs right?"
"Y.. yeah. I'm a cyborg." He replied and hurried off.
"Got a pretty good eye for it huh?" The Lizard Man looked at Antonio with a grin full of pride.
Antonio didn't know what that man was, but he certainly wasn't a cyborg. According to the news article he read, all cyborgs had southern accents and this man sounded nothing like that. He didn't even sound American. Perhaps... German?
*Could he be... Nah, probably not.* | Human No More
Tabatha sat on the couch in her small one-bedroom apartment like she did every night after work. She was watching the news station, although she admitted to herself that she found the material presented to be depressing at times. While listening, she would absently stroke her cat, Bently, who was lying curled in her lap. Well, against her lap, really, because otherwise he was a little too large to fit. He took up over half the couch as it was, but Tabatha didn’t mind. Cats had been bred with shape-shifters such as werewolves for so long now that their physical forms had changed dramatically. The acquired genetics produced three main forms/types of cats today, leaving behind the looks of their housecat ancestors. Bently himself was a demi-cat, which meant he had longer limbs, fingers, and opposable thumbs. While his muscled body was generally covered in a fine hair, his face was devoid of fur and was instead smooth skin. Demi-cats had thankfully retained their prehensile tails, a detail for which Tabatha was always grateful. Bently’s tail swished contentedly as she rubbed behind his ears, and the soft movement was relaxing to her.
Cats weren’t the only thing to have changed from long ago. All manner of life was now altered in some new way. Ever since the fateful day of the Unveiling, which occurred 500 years ago today. On that day, massive confidential government files were leaked across the globe. Mass conspiracies had been implemented to cover up the fact that humans were not alone on this planet. Many different types of Others roamed – Lizard People, Aliens, Shapeshifters, Werewolves, Vampires, Guardian Angels, Cyborgs, you name it. Their presence was announced to the world in one brutal moment, and since then, no one has looked back. As it turned out, there were far fewer humans on this planet than anyone had realized. The humans tended to saturate the governmental offices, although with a few, obvious exceptions. When the human-led cover up was announced to the general public, the humans had been forced to make peace with the Others. This ultimately had led to extreme amounts of inbreeding, and, according to the Global Census Records, the last pure human had died 200 years ago. None of the Others lamented the loss, and the newly altered humans, the enhanced ones, were content with their newly gained genetic material.
Tabatha found herself dozing lightly as the news recounted the history of these things, as was tradition every year. She closed her eyes, imagining food delicacies from the past – chocolate cake, ice cream, and macaroons, those were her favorite – and she let her mind relax with the familiar, lulling exercise.
Suddenly Bently tensed and went stiff beside her, which caused her to come awake quickly. She blinked groggily, still suffering from the effects of the state between being awake and being asleep. She was too old to be awakened so abruptly.
“….human has finally been successfully created in the Dothshiba Laboratory in Shanghai. I repeat, scientists have finally managed to successfully isolate the human genome and recreate it. Today, on the 500-year anniversary of the Unveiling, a human cell was born. Please join with us in celebrating!” The newscaster, Tom Bodarf, announced with an infectious smile. He himself was part Robot and part Vampire, which accounted for his particular eating habits of electricity. It had made for some dangerous times on the news, the feed cutting off suddenly, so he was forced to wear padded gloves on set.
Tabatha’s eyes widened as her brain finally caught up with things. Her heart pounded with excitement. A human! A real, live human. She had always wanted to see one.
“Isn’t that just wonderful, Maria?” Tom turned warmly toward his co-host, Maria Townsend, and she nodded vigorously.
“It sure is, Tom, it sure is! I didn’t think something like this would happen in my lifetime, that’s for sure.” Maria was part Lizard and part Shifter, but her Lizard genes were dominant, giving her a green, scaly appearance. She always played it up, wearing something green every day for the news segment. Her forked tongue appeared with a soft flick, as it always did when she became excited.
Tabatha lost sight of Tom, Maria, and even Bently. She grew dazed, lost in her thoughts as they traveled to the distant past. Humans were strange creatures. So plain. She wondered if the human was going to be a boy or a girl, and what kind of life it would live as the only human on the planet. Feeling the call of sleep once again, she drifted off while trying to picture the human’s face. She smiled, hoping that she would be able to see the human one day. | 2018-02-01T11:06:00 | 2018-02-01T10:19:12 | 92 | 39 |
[WP] Dogs have been genetically engineered to live as long as humans. As a child you pick out a puppy as a companion for the rest of your life. | My name is Max. I've been patiently waiting to be reunited with Master for 53 days. Master is my master, I'm his friend. Master and I met when we were both little, and now we're bigger. The smell of Master is very comforting. I haven't smelled Master in 53 days.
I have everything that I need. A nice woman walks me every day. A nice man feeds me every day. Families bring their children by so their little ones can say, "Hi." They call me Bailey, but that's not my name. My name is Max. But they must have their friends here too, because they say hi to me, but they bring their friends home. The other friends are very happy to go.
Master and I were in the seats-that-go-fast. There was a terrible noise. Master was covered by a blanket. My blanket is soft.
The nice woman who walks me had wet eyes when she took me for my walk. She spoke with lower words I didn't understand. Today is different. Maybe Master is coming. We went down a different hallway than usual. No walks? She kissed me. Maybe Master is down this hallway. He'll remember my name is Max. | Canis lupus familiaris. Formerly known as the domestic dog, thanks to genetic engineering our canine companions no longer lived a scant decade. Now, they lived as long as humans, and needed a name that separated them from the simple cousins of wolves that they used to be. Apex Genetics decided that name should be 'Familiar.' Within the decade, every child in the United States was getting a familiar for their fourth birthday. Not even five years later it was every child on earth.
 
Nowadays it was exceedingly rare to see a person without their four-legged companion. It feels like I could meet a thousand people and only one of them wouldn't have a familiar. Of course, the reality was that when a person lost their familiar it was like a piece of themselves. Worse still was when a familiar outlived their partner.
 
That's what Shelters were for now. A place for all the familiars that lost their friends and homes, to gather and be looked after while socialising with the employees and each other. It was also a place for people who lost their familiar. Rather than buying a new puppy that was sure to outlive you, you could peruse local shelters for a familiar your own age to befriend over several sessions and eventually adopt. In this way the lives of familiars and humans alike could be repaired.
 
Of course, I was looking into Shelters for an entirely more selfish reasons. Stuffing my phone back into my pocket, I levered myself off the couch, dislodging the ball of fur at my feet. "Sorry, Cuddles," I appologized. She didn't respond, of course, only stared at me from the floor as I got ready for the job interview. I made sure to check Cuddles' food and water, saying goodbye and scratching her head before locking up the apartment. It was a short drive to the local Shelter, and a smiling woman greeted me at the door.
 
"You must be David!" she beamed, leading me inside.
 
"Yeah, that's me." I replied.
 
"Well, have a seat." She instructed. I nodded, sliding into the chair across from her and reaching into my pocket to silence my phone. I had mouths to feed and wasn't about to risk blowing the interview because of a collection call. "I like the look of your application, and your references all had positive reviews." I smiled and she continued. "I can't help but notice you came alone. I lost my own Daisy years ago, and the Shelter really helped me cope. How long ago did you lose yours?"
 
"Oh, I didn't," I replied quickly. "Actually I've always been a cat person." | 2018-03-19T10:20:23 | 2018-03-19T09:51:51 | 52 | 19 |
[WP] A girl kisses her pet frog, and it turns into a price. The issue is its modern day, and the prince's kingdom hasn't existed for 1100 years. he is ill equipped to deal with the modern era. | She leaned in and kissed the frog...slimey green skin harsh against her soft velvet lips...
A cash register sound is heard 'ka-ching! ka-ching!' somewhere in the distance.
The girl looks down to find that where her beloved pet frog once was, a single price label exists.
'$3.50'
"God damned loch ness monster!" She cries, fist thrust into the air. | The frog hopped into her lap and croaked.
The table erupted with laughter and Erin forced a rictus grin on her face.
With a such casualness as she could muster, she plucked the frog from her lap and turned it around, mildly annoyed, but also friendly.
Everyone knew she’d kept the pet frog she won at the Renaissance Fair. It wasn’t an embarrassing symbol of her abiding spinsterhood! It was just a pet frog!
"Maybe if you keep kissing it, you'll get your own Prince Charming, eh?" Karen said too loudly and chortled.
A few people laughed but most people shifted uncomfortably.
"Maybe I will." Carmen did and pushed the frog to her face.
Her lips had barely grazed the marbled, multicoloured skin of the frog when she felt a loud crack, like a lightning bolt and she dumped the naked young man on the floor.
An extra pair of pants were easy to find.
A coherent sentence on the other hand.
"Mothers!" He cried repeatedly. "Mothers!"
Carmen stood outside nursing a cigarette when the disheveled prince came to stand to her.
"I gather for the dumb struck fools in there that I have you to thank for freeing me from the Twilight Curse?"
"Uh huh."
"Once the Eighth Chamberlain comes for me, your father shall be appropriately compensated."
"My father, huh?" Carmen said, taking a another drag on her cigarette.
"I must say, you wear quite strange clothes in your land!"
She nodded and turned away from him. She had almost believed. She has almost taken his for a Knight, sprung fully formed to defend her honour.
Instead she gets this loud manchild, screaming of his mothers and lost kingdoms.
"This Chamberlain of yours..." she said suddenly turning on him. "How will he find you?"
He seemed taken aback, stammering slightly before answering.
"I'm sure someone will write a letter..." | 2018-09-21T23:45:38 | 2018-09-21T20:07:25 | 1,378 | 180 |
[WP] The Sol system was an experiment by aliens to determine if life would evolve under hyper hostile physics. Unfortunately, it was forgotten about. Years later, humans are leaving the solar system, only to discover that upon passing an invisible barrier, they essentially gain superpowers. | They came out of Project Sol, smart, strong, and immensely violent. The creators of the project, a race that has been dead for 3 billion years, must have wanted the destruction of the galaxy, or did not foresee that a race that lived in hostile conditions would be inherently hostile.
My species only has a limited concept of hostility. We can barely comprehend the concept of anger. The only reason we can relate to humans more than any other sentient being is because of a small evolutionary trait that helped us survive some minor predators on our home planet. I am told that this race, however, existed with many predators, and many different perils.
Every other race was completely unprepared for what came out of the Sol System.
If they, called humans, felt threatened, could punch a hole through a space station. They could leap 30 feet on a standard planet, and have been known to let bullets bounce off of them. Most of them are kind-hearted, but the few that are not can destabilize a planet at their will. Their adversaries typically have no understanding of the word “fight,” and cannot defend themselves.
I wonder if we deserve it. We played god, and in doing so we created demons. It’s clear who runs the galaxy now. We are but animals to them, until we evolve to match their wit, strength and violence. | I am pressed up against the thera-mutatic glass when I wake up. My arm is sore and bleeding from where the IV line ripped out upon what I assume was a crash landing. Assumed so because I am no longer cocooned in the hyper-sleep bed my parents had tucked me into. In fact everything is sideways and I have to crawl along the wall of glass to the button panel to open the door that is now part of my floor. When I open it I have to lower myself through it, hanging from the opening for a second before I let go and land onto the side of a cabinet secured to what is now but never intended to be a wall, but there is a tilt, a dangerous list to the entire craft and my landing is not steady, I immediately begin to slide off of the cabinet. I place myself on my stomach and hang on, my arm leaving a smear of blood along the metal.
I feel lighter and it dawns on me that wherever we are the gravity is less than that on Earth, trusting this theory to be fact I leverage my feet beneath me in a crouch position. I jump to another piece of equipment and the success of easily making what is basically a 8 foot semi horizontal leap staggers me.
I make my way down the ship to control room. Everything is tossed about, there is smoke and midway there the lights shut off. It is not a large craft and eventually I make my way by feel. I find another button panel and punch in the code. I realize belatedly I am standing on the door, not next to it as I had assumed, and I plummet when it slides out from under me.
I do not hit the ground. My hands and arms instinctively reach out to absorb impact. My skin is suddenly cold and extremely sweaty, the sweat pungent with fear. I feel the soft repellant force that one feels when trying to make the same pole on two magnets touch. My body hovers on top of this sensation above the steel wall of the control room. I take a deep breath and relax. The force releases and I fall the two inches left between me and what should have been my demise.
"What?" I cannot answer my own question, so it lays there, a pillow of confusion between me and reality, the darkness a stifling blanket. There is an undulation to the darkness. I start to perceive the nuance as a breech in the hull. A portion of the wall designed to be released was flung off. I have no idea if it did so upon impact or if my parents had done the necessary actions to open the emergency exit. But its there, and whether the atmosphere of the planet is actively poisoning or not does not concern me as much as freedom from the damaged ship excites me.
I fall asleep, suddenly a wave of torpor hits me and in just a few seconds from that feeling of exhaustion I succomb to it helplessly.
To be continued...
| 2018-11-12T23:47:38 | 2018-11-12T22:41:57 | 25 | 14 |
[WP] A super villain discovers the best people to hire for his plans are ex retail workers. They hate EVERYBODY
It’s true. I’d gladly help enslave the world if it got me a new job. | "Alright, so, paychecks come biweekly, Fridays are casual, but no sandals, please. Parking spots are assigned, and on Wednesdays we get pizza for the henchmen. And, I'll be upfront here, but the pay isn't going to be incredible considering what we're expecting."
"Better than I'm used to, and your offer is still more than my last place, and a step up is a step up, right? To be honest, I'm used to doing what I do for next to nothing."
"Fair enough. I feel like it needs to be said, though, you will be working with some truly horrible people. People who engage in every cruel, twisted impulse and whim that comes to their minds, people who really, really enjoy hurting people."
"Still better than my last job. I'm used to being surrounded by pyromaniacs and people who are REALLY into knives."
"...o...okay? Oh, also, we do offer insurance, but there is a possibility that you may die on the job. Again, our HR kinda makes sure we say that before we officially extend the offer..."
"Insurance? Hot damn! Yeah, I'm not worried about getting killed. Again, this *still* beats the hell out of my last job."
"Okay, man, I'm sorry, but curiosity has gotten the best of me, and I just have to ask, what the hell was your last job!?"
"Line cook." |
Minverva smiled as her newest henchmen went to work. It was so simple, she could not believe that she had not considered this option before! Anyone that had ever worked in retail generally hated people and thus made the perfect henchmen! They didn’t demand much in terms of pay and they loved to enact revenge on people, it did not even have to be people who wronged them, they just hated people in general!
“Ma’am, the death ray is coming along and should be operation within the week.” One of her organizers informed her. He was a former barista who was fed up with overly long and confusing coffee orders. Minerva liked to keep taps on her supervisors’ hatreds and backgrounds so she could best pair them with the appropriate team. She had teams of former baristas, teams of former cashiers, teams of former mall employees. No matter what kind of retail job there was, Minerva likely had someone from that job on her payroll.
However, there were a few that she was genuinely afraid of, the baggers. Those teenagers of assorted adults who worked bagging groceries for people too lazy to do it themselves, they truly hated humanity and she was disturbed by it while loving their work ethic. They were working in her interrogation department, trying to get information out of captured superheroes. Their methods were best left unknown to Minerva and she was fine with that.
“Julius, bring me a status update on the moon base.” She smiled as one of her underlings approached her. Julius had been a giftshop manager at a local planetarium and despite having a degree in astronomy, had never progressed further than the giftshop. Minerva felt pity for him and brought him on as head of her moon expansion plan.
“The third rocket launch has gone off without a hitch mistress. Thanks to Mr. Musk the world will have no idea that you are building a base of the moon!” Julius smiled, “It will be perfect! The tides will be at your command and the world will once again acknowledge that Pluto is rightfully a planet!” Julius started to laugh about the plan. The guy always had a bit of an unhealthy obsession with Pluto, but Minerva left it alone since it didn’t interfere with Julius’ duties.
Minerva smiled as she watched her henchmen work on their various projects. Occasionally she would see a bagger walk through the facility with a double layer plastic bag of something. She never inquired about what was in the bag, some days she wanted to, but she always chickened out at the last minute.
Minerva chuckled as she retired to her penthouse suite. This was going to be an amazing quarter for her and for her company. She had always run her company well, after all it was in her blood to be good at business while also being evil. Her name wasn’t Minerva Bezos for nothing. | 2019-02-04T22:17:04 | 2019-02-04T21:52:27 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] Every human born is given a card with a date on it, which is the date of their death. Green text means your death will be natural, while red text means unnatural. You are the first person ever given a card with blue text.
Wow, great stories everyone! I keep checking them between breaks at work, so sorry for missing some individually. These are some cool reads so far and I'll continue to check them until I can get home. | I stared at the thin slip of paper in my hand. Never had this happened before. I have heard of and seen many things in my life, but this was something I never would have expected.
Every person receives a card on their 18th birthday, sometimes left in the mail, or delivered at your door. My friend had gotten his a month ago, and it told him the sad truth that he would die on September 8th, 2025, in red text. Two days ago, he was hit in a head-on collision with a drunk driver and died a few hours later in the hospital. Today is September 10th, my birthday. I thought I was prepared for anything. I could not have been more wrong.
I've been living alone in a rough neighborhood. My parents had both died, my father when I was little, my mother recently. Seeing as they knew the date of their death they put in all their last efforts to make enough money for me to inherit so I could live comfortably for however long I was given. My mother didn't make much, but she worked her heart out in her last year to do whatever she could for me. I will always be grateful for her despite her overprotective nature she held over me, and her attempts to control my decisions. She always just trying to keep me safe.
However, I am, and always have been, a broken man. Things in my life have hardened me far enough where I felt nothing at my friend's funeral. Not a single tear or any identifiable sadness. Just a cold, hard feeling of constant misery and suffering - something that has been plaguing me ever since I can remember. Last year I was diagnosed with depression, but it never came as a surprise. I promised myself to keep going for my mother's sake so she would think I was happy before she died. I didn't want her to know I was considering leaving this corrupt world by my own means.
When I opened the mailbox and pulled out the unlabeled envelope, I fully expected to see a date that was very, very soon, in red text. That, I figured, would be the day I decide to end it all. If I tried to commit suicide earlier, I wouldn't be able to die. If I didn't commit suicide on the date given to me, something would happen that would kill me anyway. People have tried both - they never escape the date given to them. Expecting the red text, I opened up the letter, dreading whatever was coming. More than anything, I was fearful of green text. I did not want to be trapped in this world any longer.
So there I was, staring at the card. It would either be red, or green. There were no other options. The date on the card read September 10th, 2007 - the day I was born. Even stranger was that the text was neither red or green, but blue.
I went to see the doctor and showed him the card. Normally, people don't share their date to others, and many tear their card up rather than reading it. But this was something that had never happened before, and I needed to know if the doctor knew what it meant. What did it mean I would die 18 years ago, the day I was born? Why was the text blue, and not red or green? The doctor stared at the card for what seemed like an eternity. "It can't be possible," he mumbled to himself as he grabbed a book and began flipping through the pages.
"What does this mean, doc?" I asked him worriedly. I did not fear death - I feared life. My worst fears were about to come true.
"I have never seen anything like this before," he replied breathlessly. He simply could not explain it.
I went home and looked at my desk. The gun I had been hiding from my mother for years stared at me. I picked it up and stared at it, thinking of what my card meant. There was only one way to find out. I fired the gun and collapsed to the floor. The pain was monumental. But I was alive - fully conscious and alive. I jumped off a cliff, got myself hit by a truck, poisoned myself, and attempted suicide so many times over the next few days. After all these attempts, and staying alive, I finally realized the truth of what the card meant.
I was immortal.
Why me? | Today was the day.
I'd always been treated differently, thanks to the card I carried. Some were afraid. Some gave me special treatment, they assumed I'd endure some incredible horror. Most were just interested though, and today they were the most interested.
You see, at birth each human is born with a card attached to them with a date. This date marked their deaths. As far as anybody could tell it was non-negotiable, nobody has ever escaped that fate, which went both ways. You would die on that day, and nothing could cause you to die before. If it was written in green you would be guaranteed to die on your own, your body shutting down on its own. A red meant unnatural, whether it was murder, a car crash, drowned while swimming... it was all possible. Nobody had ever gotten any text other than those two colors until the day I was born. Mine was blue.
The strange thing was, after I got mine, blue text started appearing on more death cards, and it increased exponentially. First it was me, then a week later some kid in Georgia got his card, then two out in Japan were reported the following day. Today nearly everybody gets blue text on their cards, but nobody has had their date hit yet. Mine was first, and my expiration date is first, and it is today.
I've been followed by the media all day. They have recorded me wake up, eat my lucky charms, head to work, all being broadcast on live television to the world. Nobody wants to miss the moment I croak. There's a pretty big global betting pool on what happens. Some are guessing a parasite takes over my brain. Some think I'll get shifted to a new dimension or start a black hole on myself that expands to eat the world. Others still think I'm going to be the first in a spiritual gathering where the wicked are smitten off the earth. Some simpler theories are based off of this might be the first time someone doesn't die on their date, that blue is like a 'maybe'.
Me, I'm just looking to get it over with. The day started out fine, I was a bit nervous, but now I'm just annoyed. Cameramen all in my face all day long, with the world watching my every move is not nearly as exciting as I first thought it would be. I couldn't even get privacy in the shower. I think kids will watch this show!
Throughout the day I've been making a plan. I just need a little space for myself. The doors out of my work have a couple exits, one is a bit more hidden and they probably won't have any cameras on the other side of that one. Not fast enough, anyway. When I clock out I'll make my way towards the main exit then dart out the side and hopefully go fast enough they can't catch me. Clockout time is in five minutes. As I start packing up and prepping to go I start secretly stretching my muscles, overarching my arm as I pack my briefcase, taking longer steps. I haven't run in a long time, don't want a cramp!
Clocking out I start looking around to see where my openings are. As expected the cameras are set to go towards the main exit. As I pass through the hallway heading in that direction I make a mental note of the guys following behind me. They've got some pretty big sets of equipment, they won't be able to keep up with me. My heart starts pounding as my monent comes close. Adrenaline begins to pump through and I start shaking a bit. The only thoughts going through my mind are telling me to not give myself away too early.
As soon as I hit the point where I can see the side door I drop my briefcase and sprint away at top speed. Shouting erupts, and I hear the clatter of footsteps and dropped equipment behind me. I better pick this up! As I charge forward breathing like I'll have no breaths very soon... well I mean, I am set to die today after all... at least I don't have much to lose, right?
Just as I'm about to reach the door I trip over the carpet leading to the door. Falling, I think to myself, "Ah, this is how I die. OK then." and just as I expect to have my face flattened to the floor, there is a clatter, some loud cracks, and I just... keep falling. Down, down I go. It's a bit dark, but I see a light deep in the ground. I remembered seeing a brief about a secret club a while back that would meet in our company's second basement. I heard they were a bit weird, taking up demonic rituals. As I look down where I'm falling, I am just able to make out the shape of a pentagram before I splat into the ground.
"Ah, c'mon, y'all just interrupted our summoning! My ma and pa are gonna be so disappointed in me."
The voice I hear sounds a bit weird. Gravelly, yet... full of air. Actually, there's a lot of weird sounds coming through. Looking up, my senses feel very sharp. I should be feeling a lot of pain after a fall like that but I feel strangely... alive. And I mean strangely alive. Like I'm... not. But I am?
It's dark in the room, but I can see clearly. Looking around I see the complaints coming from Billy Ray. An overwhelming urge to charge at him and bit his neck overcomes me as I swiftly flash over behind him and start comsuming his blood. Before long he's collapsed on the ground. I know he'll be getting up in a couple days when he's finished his transformation. I don't know how I know, but I do know. Call it instinct, or reading up on superstitious things, but... it'll happen.
I suppose I've learned what the blue is. This is supernatural death. Now I can help create a world where nobody has to truly die any more. I always did want to make a difference in the world! I'll share this gift with everybody. | 2019-05-15T08:56:55 | 2019-05-15T08:16:26 | 147 | 36 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | It started this one afternoon, I was just writing an essay in my bedroom when suddenly chaos errupted outside. People started flying, speed running, healing and exhibiting other fabulous superpowers. After everything had settled down a bit I returned to my essay, after all it had to be handed in before midnight. I tried to type the next sentence and was surprised to find that I couldn't come up with anything. I had a blackout for hours, until...
The clock struck 11.50 pm and within five minutes I speed-wrote my entire essay, completely faultless. I had just found my ridiculous powers.
Over the next few days as people were trying to use their powers for good, I found myself going to hospital ER's picking out the people hanging onto life by a thread and healing them.
People think I'm just another empathetic healer that decided to focus on people in mortal danger.
The fact is however I'm just a perfectionist and a procrastinator, leaving me able to do anything absolutely perfectly. But only at the very last minute. | The names Bond. Just Bond. That's my name. Don't wear it out! It's just my personality showing through my powers, the name is merely a reflection of that. You know what I mean, we all have a power or a quirk of some sort, matches the personality. I've told you this before, but you keep forgetting. Or maybe I keep forgetting. I don't know. But here's the thing about me: I can stick to anything. Objects, people's, abstract concepts... *Memories*... or maybe it's the other way around. Theres only one drawback, that I can remember.
Nothing seems to stick to me. I can't remember much, all my relationships dissolve, I can never stick to any one thing for too long. I've had hundreds of jobs. Or maybe things can't stick to me? I'm not sure. It's been a long time since the Power Appraisal Test. I think I still have the pencil I used somewhere in my hair.
Thing is, I stick to everything, but nothing sticks to me. I can climb walls, people get attached emotionally to me, and one time I even walked on air by clinging to the molecules. Or did the molecules cling to me? Sooner or later everything gets attached to me. But I can never form my own attachments to anything, or anyone. People cling to me in their hearts, but I can't love them back. Attachments are dangerous, fearful. Scary.
I tried loving once. She called me clingy, needy, attention needing. Or maybe I called *her* that? Oh, how I wish I could remember. I miss her, sometimes. And sometimes, I don't miss her. I've always had this trouble with forming attachments of some sort. That's the one thing I *can* remember clearly. Most of my memories slide off of my brain like... Something that's slippery. I miss her, even though she's still with me. Sometimes we talk. Sometimes we don't. I wonder where she went.
I'm going to have to leave you now. It was nice having this talk, but my chair is already bonding to my skin, soon to be absorbed completely into me, my personality. If people hang around me for too long, they get attached. Not just mentally, but physically. I've already got two minds, I don't need another. You'll never be able to forget me, though I'll certainly forget you. I'm sorry. You asked about me, and this always happens when someone notices me. I think.
Goodbye. I'll think of you in her dreams, she remembers things that I can't. I miss her. | 2019-09-08T10:15:10 | 2019-09-08T09:58:43 | 228 | 32 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | I always felt alone as a child, even talking to myself when I felt the need for conversation. It started when I was 4 or 5, I guess; parents were too busy to my many siblings that I only had myself for company. So I talked to myself... and I answered myself. My mother always said, "Oh, she's just playing. Let her be." And it made sense when I was a child. Until I turned 21 and my answer didn't come from my mouth. I found I could duplicate, make multiple copies of myself and I didn't feel so alone.
If I was ever so alone and I needed to talk to someone, I'd split and three people: me, a listener, and someone to make brownies for us. It was always comforting to know someone was there for me, even if it was still me. Sometimes I use them for "evil;" if I don't want to go to work, one of them will. If I don't want to go on a date with someone but they don't take no for an answer, if I need to go to the store but I'm out of patience to leave the house, ect, ect.
But eventually I got sick of myself and left my apartment in hopes of finding new companionship but how does someone with... well, multiple personalities just go up to someone and say, "I'm lonely and would like you to fill the void"?
My thoughts swam with reasons to go up to someone and start talking to them when a voice behind me said, "You should open with a joke."
I made a face and turned with a groan, expecting to see an other giving me advice, and my eyes landed on the face of someone with kind, green eyes, broad, strong shoulders and a smile that warmed my heart.
"Sorry," he said, chuckling. "I didn't mean to interrupt your internal debate but it sounded like you could use some help."
'Internal?' I thought. 'How did he know I was-'
"I can read minds," he answered without even waiting for a question. "I hear everyone's thoughts but yours kind of pulled on me. It doesn't make sense, I know, but I felt like you needed someone to talk to."
I squinted slightly and decided to test this, playing an annoying song from high school in my head until he reacted.
And react he did; he chuckled. "I loved Raining Tacos as a kid."
My mind went... not blank, but in hyperdrive; all my others swarming me with questions to ask until one stood out. "Do you wanna get a coffee?" I asked. Hearing my own voice ask a question that I didn't have to answer made me start to smile.
But what made it bigger was his response. "I'd love to." | My powers **never** seemed to manifest, but people **always** seemed to agree with me.
Detective Wright slammed the table with his hand and looked at me with a righteous fury, as though he was capable of extracting the information he wanted. Sure, he could read minds, but he couldn't make sense of mine. Nobody ever could.
*"Tell me right now, girl. How are you connected with these events?!"*
His finger darted from photo to photo of the thefts, the interrogations of my "friends", and of my daring escape from the previous jail where I just walked out the front door.
*"Sir, it would be wiser for you if you just let me go."*
*"Is that a threat?! You know you can't do anything in all of those restraints. You don't even have a documented power."*
*"Documented..."* My thoughts trailed off.
I could feel him trying to weasel his way into my mind yet again.
*"You can stop trying to read my thoughts now."*
The grizzled man was taken aback, surprised that I could detect his power.
*"How did you know?"* he asked.
*"Of course I knew. You think they hire people who can fly as interrogators? No, they choose empaths, mind readers. You must be impressed. Normally they don't get the brainiacs in here."*
He concurred, rubbing his balding temples. Shaking his head as though coming out of a daze, he questioned further, albeit verbally this time.
*"Why did these people all say the same thing once caught? None of them had any motives whatsoever. Their only connection? You."*
*"Hey now, these people all did their own thing. They CHOSE to do what they did."*
*"Oh really? Then why did they all say that you told them to do it?"*
*"I told them to do it? Really? You can't honestly say that."*
He pursed his lips as though he was about to say something, then faltered.
*"I need to get out of this room,"* I said. *"I need to be free from these cuffs."*
The officer looked at me with utter malice, then acquiesced. *"Turn around,"* he replied.
*"I need you to go back to your desk, and delete all of your files on me. I want you to burn the hard copies, and to tell your Chief that I had nothing to do with any of this. That I'm innocent, and that the connections were forged."*
*"Forged?"* he asked. *"By whom?"*
*"By you,"* I replied. *"You blackmailed all of these people with your mind-reading in order to besmirch my name while reaping the benefits."*
The weathered veteran of the force looked puzzled, but turned away and opened the door. *"After you,"* he said cordially. *"I apologize for the inconvenience."*
*"Don't worry about it. You're such a noble gentleman."*
Immediately, Wright's sad face perked up a bit.
*"Ma'am, I'm sorry that I can't walk you out to your car. Corporal Jenkins will assist you. I have duties to attend to. I bid you adieu."*
I curtsied, then strolled through the station accompanied by my new attendant. Bewildered eyes focused intently on me from all around. How could he just let the lead suspect go? I turned back one last time to see Detective Wright enter the Chief's office, badge and gun in hand.
*"Jenkins..."* I smiled. *"Will you please give me a ride to the airport?"*
Corporal Jenkins looked indignant and astonished that I would ask such a thing. Politely, he replied, *"I'm sorry, but I can't do that. I'm busy keeping the city safe."*
*"You will do that. I'm just a young lady. I can't be walking alone in this part of town. Plus, I have a plane to catch."*
*"I'm so sorry! How could I not think of that? Here, get in the Charger and buckle in. We're going lights and sirens."*
​
Just like the man upstairs making career-ruining false confessions, and just like all of my past "imprints", Corporal Jenkins knew one thing.
# "I'll do it because Sami told me to." | 2019-09-08T11:40:23 | 2019-09-08T11:18:58 | 40 | 20 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | The way my schedule works gives me little to no space for rest or even just idling around. Everyday consists of me dragging myself to class and trying not to pass out every 30 seconds. I think of how nice other people have it being able to warp to class because they were just a little to impatient. Or how others don't need to study because they were a little too nozy and managed to get all the information they need from classmates and their professors just by greeting them. My alarm goes off and once again, I begin to get ready for my morning classes. I look out from my window and look at all the other students frantically speeding through each other while one manages to collide with a trash can. I start getting ready before I realize today is exam day. I begin running to class and plop myself down and watch as another student phase through a bunch of people and takes a seat next to me. I stare at the person next to me and realize that he isn't exactly the most sociable person in the world so I avoid eye contact. Unfortunately with all this super power talk going around, even introverts can break the ice without someone else starting.
"What's your power?" He asks.
"My lack of sleep and tight schedule." I say as I frantically look through my notes.
"Oh, so is it being able to get stuff done instantly?"
At this point I just stare, I'm fucking exhausted and I'm really not in the mood for a conversation. So I just ignore the poor sod and carry on. A few hours after the exam I'm sure I failed. I decide to just hit the sack and sleep in for the rest of the day.
My alarm goes off and once again, I begin to get ready for my morning classes. I look out from my window and look at all the other students frantically speeding through each other while one manages to collide with a trash can. I start getting ready before I realize today is exam day. I begin running to class and plop myself down and watch as another student phase through a bunch of people and takes a seat next to me. I stare at the person next to me and realize that he isn't exactly the most sociable person in the world so I avoid eye contact. Unfortunately with all this super power talk going around, even introverts can break the ice without someone else starting.
"What's your power?" He asks.
"Sorry I'm really busy at the moment." I respond staring blankly at my desk.
A few hours after the exam I'm sure I failed. I decide to just hit the sack and sleep in for the rest of the day.
My alarm goes off for the 7th time this loop. I get dressed, get to class and sit at the same desk once again. Another student phases through a bunch of people and takes a seat next to me.
"What's your power?" He asks.
"I just really suck at time management I guess. Even with all the time in the world." I respond.
He stares at me with a confused expression on his face and goes back to reviewing his notes. Today is different though, maybe I'll finally ace this exam and not mess anything up. Maybe after I pass the exam, I get to finally do something tomorrow without worrying about every assignment I turn in. Tomorrow is going to be a good day. | My power is unique to me, and me alone. You see, I’ve always believed that current modern society wasn’t for me; it always felt like I was stuck in a prison, and as “free” as I was in this prison, it was still a prison. I’m very introverted, you see, so I’ve always had a hard time expressing myself, and it didn’t help that I felt so much pressure from my family and the world around me to make something of myself. This prison had layers, you could say. You couldn’t just say, “fuck what society asks of you, be you and do what you love if it doesn’t hurt anyone,” that’d be crazy. Instead, you’d get a more indoctrinated response from everyone telling you that if you didn’t follow the trends or go with the flow that you’d never make it out in life, or that if you didn’t do x-thing, you couldn’t become successful. In fact, a lot of people’s artificial happiness were based on the superficial opinions of others and it drained me a lot. Eventually, I just didn’t give a fuck. Fuck this system of people talking down to me just because they never dared to dream and fuck them for never having dared to chase their passions. They were trained by society to be this way and they were trained in the same way to never exceed this low plateau. In a way, I became a trailblazer of sorts. People were drawn to me and followed closely as they too began to chase their dreams and passions.
That’s how it all started.
One day, I met a teenager who expressed his utmost respect for me, for I was the sole reason why he was able to achieve his dream at such a young age. Impressive, right? At such a young age, all I could do was dream and hope for the best, but here was a young man who told me he had already achieved his dream. I asked him what his dream was and in response, he told me, “it’s better if I show you instead.”
I couldn’t believe it.
The young man was... flying. He wasn’t just floating a few feet above ground, he was pushing speeds above fifty kilometers per hour with twists and turns that no plane or copter could imitate. The sight of seeing a fellow human fly in such a manner was nothing short of marvelous. “What splendid technology! How did you come up with such an invention?” I asked in anxious curiosity.
“Technology? Oh, I’m not really that smart, but I kind of just took your advice and believed in myself and my dreams because it didn’t hurt anyone. My dream is to fly and be as free as the wind, to not be chained by the social constructs of society and to never be tethered to anything I’m not emotionally or spiritually invested in. After meditating on these thoughts for a week or so, I went to go play basketball with a few friends and ended up making my first dunk... from the other side of the court. It was crazy! I’m only five feet and six inches tall and I literally soared over the court. You had to be there to believe it. When I got home, I jumped to get to the top of my roof. Then I jumped from the roof to see how high I could jump and I just... never fell down. That’s when I realized I could float! I continued to push these tests and realized I could even move in the air; slowly at first, but eventually I flew so fast that my body couldn’t handle the speed that I was approaching. It’s absolutely insane! None of this would have happened if you never came to my high school to be a speaker for our “Hopes and Dreams” spirit week half a year ago.”
He was the first. Eventually, more and more people came to me, all with new revelations, all with new abilities. It took me a few years to understand the catalyst for this change; the only people who developed new powers were those who adopted my philosophy.
“As long as you don’t hurt anyone, you are free to live your life the way you want to and be free to pursue your own happiness.”
You ask me what my power is, Mr. Interrogator, so I will now enlighten you: my power is freedom at its highest, most noble degree. As long as I never hurt anyone, I am free to do whatever it is I like. My followers share the same sentiment, for we are the misunderstood, we are the forgotten, we are the outcasts shunned by your society. We are the dreamers who dreamed to dream, we are the hopeful who hoped for a chance at happiness. We have never hurt anyone for we understand how it feels to hurt, and yet here we are in this very predicament, Mr. Interrogator, chained at your leisure because your superiors fear us. So I say this now, Mr. Interrogator.
You can never chain us. We will always be free. | 2019-09-08T11:41:24 | 2019-09-08T11:02:00 | 31 | 13 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | The buzzing stopped for a minute as a new group bust down the door, but after everyone got a good look at the newcomers they went back to their normal pace, some chuckling.
Why can't anyone knock? Every time a new group of these heros come around they always have to ruin my front door.
"Was that Manbeast? I thought this was a den of villains..." The tall one asks quizically, looking around at my other 'employees' going back to their business.
Guess it's time for orientation.
"Hello friends!" I say in my most beaming voice. "Welcome to my home, please come inside - sit."
Their hostility melts away into confusion, but all three eventually make their way toward me, though not one actually sat... good.
"What have you done to them?" The tall one glowers at me, obviously he considers himself the leader of this group.
"N-no, you misunderstand. These are my friends, I'd never do anything to them" I stammer back lightly, don't want to provoke them if I can avoid it.
"What do you mean, friends?" Oh, the glasses girl spoke up. She seemed to be just following along. I expected loudmouth to be the one doing the talking here. "We've been sent here by the guild to investigate the activities of this place, reports of members disappearing... What are you doing to them?"
"I'm sorry, this is probably my fault" I look up as innocently as I can. "I fear its a misunderstanding, you see.. I-I don't have any powers."
"That's a lie" she shoots back "... it has to be, right?"
The tall one looks to her "I've never heard of someone without powers"
"It's true, my mother... she was, overly attached to me as a child. When the incident occurred, her fear of losing me manifested itself this way. Dad was always the shield for our family, and his powers were what we relied on during the chaos that ensued."
"You survived the great chaos by yourselves?" the short guy finally spoke as he moved around to sit on the couch, the others following slowly.
"We did for a time, hiding as best we could - but as you know more perceptive ones were able to sniff out people with powers..."
I look down and put on a painful face
"My mother, she was the first to go... I thought for a second maybe I could help dad now, some semblance of good to come from the loss of her... but her grips over my powers stayed behind. I'd have teken comfort from having something of her left... but I could do nothing but shake from my hiding spot as I watched the men tear my father apart."
Glasses girl is almost in tears, time to roll this back a little. They are new here, they'll have time to get even more emotionally ensnared.
"I'm sorry, I never introduced myself. I'm Todd"
Todd may be a lame supervillain name, but it suits my purposes very well, and my real name might turn some heads. Dad was a bit well known for his villainy. I'll have to send him and mom a postcard soon, let them know how the family business is coming along. | My power is unique to me, and me alone. You see, I’ve always believed that current modern society wasn’t for me; it always felt like I was stuck in a prison, and as “free” as I was in this prison, it was still a prison. I’m very introverted, you see, so I’ve always had a hard time expressing myself, and it didn’t help that I felt so much pressure from my family and the world around me to make something of myself. This prison had layers, you could say. You couldn’t just say, “fuck what society asks of you, be you and do what you love if it doesn’t hurt anyone,” that’d be crazy. Instead, you’d get a more indoctrinated response from everyone telling you that if you didn’t follow the trends or go with the flow that you’d never make it out in life, or that if you didn’t do x-thing, you couldn’t become successful. In fact, a lot of people’s artificial happiness were based on the superficial opinions of others and it drained me a lot. Eventually, I just didn’t give a fuck. Fuck this system of people talking down to me just because they never dared to dream and fuck them for never having dared to chase their passions. They were trained by society to be this way and they were trained in the same way to never exceed this low plateau. In a way, I became a trailblazer of sorts. People were drawn to me and followed closely as they too began to chase their dreams and passions.
That’s how it all started.
One day, I met a teenager who expressed his utmost respect for me, for I was the sole reason why he was able to achieve his dream at such a young age. Impressive, right? At such a young age, all I could do was dream and hope for the best, but here was a young man who told me he had already achieved his dream. I asked him what his dream was and in response, he told me, “it’s better if I show you instead.”
I couldn’t believe it.
The young man was... flying. He wasn’t just floating a few feet above ground, he was pushing speeds above fifty kilometers per hour with twists and turns that no plane or copter could imitate. The sight of seeing a fellow human fly in such a manner was nothing short of marvelous. “What splendid technology! How did you come up with such an invention?” I asked in anxious curiosity.
“Technology? Oh, I’m not really that smart, but I kind of just took your advice and believed in myself and my dreams because it didn’t hurt anyone. My dream is to fly and be as free as the wind, to not be chained by the social constructs of society and to never be tethered to anything I’m not emotionally or spiritually invested in. After meditating on these thoughts for a week or so, I went to go play basketball with a few friends and ended up making my first dunk... from the other side of the court. It was crazy! I’m only five feet and six inches tall and I literally soared over the court. You had to be there to believe it. When I got home, I jumped to get to the top of my roof. Then I jumped from the roof to see how high I could jump and I just... never fell down. That’s when I realized I could float! I continued to push these tests and realized I could even move in the air; slowly at first, but eventually I flew so fast that my body couldn’t handle the speed that I was approaching. It’s absolutely insane! None of this would have happened if you never came to my high school to be a speaker for our “Hopes and Dreams” spirit week half a year ago.”
He was the first. Eventually, more and more people came to me, all with new revelations, all with new abilities. It took me a few years to understand the catalyst for this change; the only people who developed new powers were those who adopted my philosophy.
“As long as you don’t hurt anyone, you are free to live your life the way you want to and be free to pursue your own happiness.”
You ask me what my power is, Mr. Interrogator, so I will now enlighten you: my power is freedom at its highest, most noble degree. As long as I never hurt anyone, I am free to do whatever it is I like. My followers share the same sentiment, for we are the misunderstood, we are the forgotten, we are the outcasts shunned by your society. We are the dreamers who dreamed to dream, we are the hopeful who hoped for a chance at happiness. We have never hurt anyone for we understand how it feels to hurt, and yet here we are in this very predicament, Mr. Interrogator, chained at your leisure because your superiors fear us. So I say this now, Mr. Interrogator.
You can never chain us. We will always be free. | 2019-09-08T12:02:59 | 2019-09-08T11:02:00 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] Your power is that anyone will believe what you say, no matter what it is. You casually rob the store, assuring everyone that nothing is out of the ordinary, and later laugh as you offer an outlandish explanation to the flabbergasted police. | I have done things I'm not proud of. I've lived like a wolf among sheep, a god among mortals, a monster among innocents. People have lost everything because of me. I’ve seen the tears in the eyes of families whose houses I wanted, the fear in the stance of men and women I’ve robbed for everything they had ever worked to earn, a lifetime of work stolen away in an instant.
But it wasn’t until people started dying, deprived of everything by my actions, that it hit me – I was the one who wasn’t needed, the parasite on the back of humanity.
I stared into the mirror and drew up all the reserves I could muster. I looked down at the three lines I had scribbled out in preparation.
“You are a kind person, concerned only with helping others.”
I felt a sickening shame as the guilt of everything I had done struck with a vengeance. Tears brimming in my eyes, bile rising, I choked out the next line.
“You are an amnesiac, remembering none of the terrible actions you have taken in your past.”
Everything stopped. I blinked and looked into the mirror. Why was I crying? Who was I? Where? How?
I was holding a paper in my hand. The first two lines were crossed out, and beside the third was a note – ‘look into the mirror and read this’.
I looked into the mirror. “You are a perfectly ordinary human, with no special powers or abilities, and that is good enough.” | Having a power like this is like living the dream. I can do anything I want.
-
"I saw you. You robbed that store on the corner!" Officer Ronald shouted, aiming a gun at my face.
This wasn't the first time I met Officer Ronald. It wouldn't be the last time either.
"Are you sure?" I asked. My hands were still raised, from which the bags of money were hanging. I knew I could get out of this. I always did.
"Yes!" he shouted.
"Then why am I just casually walking. I should be running away right now, right?" I said, nodding my head.
"Don't play your tricks with me. Drop the bag and get on the ground, now!" He said, pulling the hammer of his pistol back.
"You're making a mistake, officer. Are you sure arresting a black man for no crime is going to look great on your résumé?" I asked.
"You aren't black!" He said.
"Are you sure?" I asked, nodding my head again.
Sometimes my powers work instantly. Sometimes, they take some time. Fortunately, it worked.
"Uh. Sorry about that. My vision is getting worse each day," he said, but then he held the gun back up.
"This isn't a race thing. I'm arresting a robber! You still have those bags of stolen money!" he shouted. I was cornered in a lane. I didn't know what else to say to convince him. Every explanation works only once. I had used up almost every excuse with officer Ronald.
To be fair, I didn't expect him to be so aggressive this time. Perhaps he was really having a bad day. But there he was, pointing a gun and getting ready to shoot me.
"I know you want to kill me, officer. But atleast give a dying man one chance to explain!" I said.
"Get on the floor. Drop the bags. Anything you say can and will be used against you, son. I'd advice keeping real quiet now," he said and took a step at me.
"Are you sure you're not even going to give an innocent man a chance to explain? I have the right to resist an unlawful arrest, don't I?" I said and nodded.
It worked.
"Okay. Let's hear it," he said.
"You're dreaming. In these dreams, you're given a choice. To either kill someone or spare his life. But every time you kill someone, is an additional strike against you on the eternal hall of sin. Three strikes and you'll be going to hell. Dreams are just an alternate reality. So, make your choice wisely," I said, and nodded twice.
Officer Ronald turned around and left. I laughed, and thought about ways of spending my fortune.
For the first time, I told him the truth.
Having a power like this is like living the dream. I am in Officer Ronald's dream.
I can do anything I want.
Until tomorrow, that is.
-------
r/Abhisek | 2020-03-06T11:47:32 | 2020-03-06T10:05:01 | 269 | 86 |
[WP] You’re a graphic designer. One day, you look in the mirror, and jokingly try to photo-edit your own body. You discover that you have the powers of Photoshop, but in real life. | I was nine years old the day I discovered the power of art.
The house was silent except for Mom’s gentle snoring, whirring out beneath her bedroom door. I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror as the sunrise skimmed through the frosted windows like a stone across a lake, splashing soft yellow across our porcelain bath.
Since Dad died, Mom had taken to sleeping in later, as if that meant there was less time without him each day. Or more time with him in her dreams, maybe. She only snored after nights of drinking wine, but that meant she snored most days now. It’d been a year and his presence seemed to have grown ever larger in his absence, noticeable in all the places he now wasn’t. The kitchen burning toast, my bedroom reading stories, Mom’s bed adding warmth.
They’d planned to open a restaurant. Mom had been a chef at a fancy hotel when they met, and Dad was an expert at finding the right sized key for unlocking the dreams caged behind a person’s eyes. He’d found Mom’s dream early on, and he’d told her they’d forge that key together. They’d saved pennies for years until jars rattled and transformed from empty possibilities to promises ready to leap off the shelf.
That particular morning, as Mom snored, I hazed up the bathroom mirror in a breath, and the fog hung on my reflected chin like a white beard. I stared at that ghostly face until the mist cleared, never saying Dad? but thinking nothing else. I misted it further, added wrinkled lines around my eyes, saw the future and past smiling at me. That’s when I first realised how drawing something flat and fake could change something actual, something complex and emotional.
By the time I was eleven Mom had taken to snoring in the afternoons, on the sofa, and the house had become a mess of empty-bottle smells that Mom’d tried to disguise Dad’s lingering scent with.
Dad had been a graphic designer. His computer sat on a table in a tucked-away study that had once been a garage. I often hid myself away with it too, loading up the images he’d worked on, and tracing the cursor over the lines or tracks of paint so that my hand ghosted over his, only time-separated.
I’d found the image a few months ago, alone in its own folder, unfinished, uncolored, but mostly sketched. Him, Mom, me, standing outside the ribbon-closed door of an Italian restaurant with Mom’s name written above in lavish cursive.
I worked on it for a month, right up until Mom’s birthday. And I can’t say I made it any better — my splashes of color might as well have been spills, but I brought it to some kind of completion. Then I made the menu, adding all the pretty meals Mom used to cook for us. If I could remember them, I suspected Mom could too.
It was lunchtime on her birthday and she‘d opened a bottle of wine to numb the day away. But I touched her arm before she poured.
”Happy birthday Mom,” I said, passing her the printed materials. “It’s from me and Dad.”
Her hand trembled as she took them, and her eyes widened and welled as she looked at them. She slid down against the table until her back rested against it, crying into her knees, the paper clutched fiercely in her hand.
”I miss him too, Mom.”
It seemed like she fought against gravity as strong as the sun‘s as she got back to her feet and hugged me tight. | This is my first one go easy on me! (Some vulgar words)
"Hmm" You say looking into the mirror. "Black hair does not suit you James. "You mutter to yourself. "I ought to go to a barber some time soon" "James! Are you coming?" Alyssa yelled from the other room. "One minute!" You replied. "Really be something if I could use my graphic designer skill set on myself, huh?" As you finish this sentence you aimlessly wave your hand across your chest and turn around to pick up your glasses. As you turn back around you step back in astonishment. "What the hell?" You say looking at your now red suit that was previously black. "I could've sworn I put on my black one." You say outloud. "James! Come on the liquor isn't gonna drink itself." Alyssa impatiently says from the other room. "Yeah one sec." you mindlessly say wandering over to your wardrobe.
As you look inside and see your only black suit missing you again say, "what the hell?" You walk back to the mirror where you laugh and say while running a hand through your hair, "My God I've really lost it now." you look down at your shoes and back up at the mirror where you are aghast. Looking into the mirror your hair is the brightest shade of purple you have ever seen. So purple it's almost blinding. "What the fuck?!" You utter. You stand up straight feet together looking up at the roof. "I was joking when I said I wanted to use my graphic design skills on myself." you look back down at the floor and notice that your shoes have now changed colors and type. Before you were wearing brown dress shoes now you have on pink sneakers.
As you realize the ability you have gained you start going crazy. Changing her color, eye color, shoes, pants, suit, you even realize you can change your lip size and jaw line. Every single thing on your body you can change. Wait...does that mean..."wooah!" You say looking down your pants. "I'll keep that regular for now." After you become satisfied with your changes you finally leave the room and meet Alyssa outside. "Finally what took you so lo-woah what did you do to your face? Did you put on makeup or something?" She asked. "No." I said blushing. "Oh no I like it." Alyssa said "it's just I've never noticed I guess." She finished giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.
After driving for seemed like an eternity you finally arrive at the club. You walk inside meeting some friends and noticing all the envious looks you are getting. As a small smile sets upon your lips your best friend, john, saunters over. "Hey james! Looking extra good today. Tryna get a new bitch?" John drunkenly said. "Dude you've been here for like an hour how are you this drunk already?" You say playfully punching him in the shoulder. "I dont know what you're talking bout." He slurred glancing at a table full of empty shot glasses and beer glasses. "I gotta tell you something." You nervously say shuffling your feet but stopping as your nice black dress shoes turned to brown dance shoes. You quickly turn them back and look John In the face when you just come out with the whole story. "I can change my appearance by will. Like photoshop but I have to make specific movements. Like this." You explain waving my hand across my chest. John stared in awe as your red suit turned to dark green and back again with the wave of your hand. "Wait does this mean that you change your...you know...size?" "Yes." You chuckled "that was the first thing I did when I found out." You say. John leaned in close then whispering to me. "How long can you make it?" "Knock it off John." You laugh standing up. "I'll be back."
You go into the bathroom and find the mirror to experiment some more. You decide itd be funny to make you as ugly as possible. You flip through face choices, weight, height this and that when you finally end up with the ugliest thing you have ever seen. You look with disgust at your wide eyes and crooked toothed smile. You have acne everywhere some pimples oozing on your face. You have to many chins to count and stand only five feet tall exactly. You have ugly tattoos all over your body with many piercings including your lip. You raise your hand to your mouth to smell your breath which you can also choose and it smells like rotten eggs. You laugh and wave your hand over your face to go back. Nothing happened... you try again this time slower. "No... no no no." You whisper. You purse your lips to change them back but they stay the same. You make a squeezing gesture to get rid of the acne but it still oozes. "Damnit!" You tell starting to cry a little. You desperately try everything to change it all back to normal but alas you stay the same. As you fall to your knees sobbing you look up at the ceiling, "Damn you God!" You scream as loud as you can.
r/nudelicous | 2021-01-02T02:30:16 | 2021-01-02T02:14:08 | 347 | 45 |
[WP] The rest of the civilised galaxy has just learned that when encountering something new, the human's brains asks three subconscious questions. "Can I kill it? Can I eat it? Can I have sex with it?" | The three questions. They always ask those three questions. Not necessarily out-loud, and not always consciously, but they do. It’s ingrained in them— basic survival instincts. Deep in their core, they ask these questions, even to those of their own kind. People always say “Oh, they’re animals! All they do is slaughter and reproduce! They’re no better than viruses!”
But you know what? That’s not true. They always tell tales about what happens when the answer is a “yes”. Stories of genocide, and of butchery and of senseless lust. But that’s not all they are.
Humans are amazing, because even when all three answers are “no”, they still give a shit. They form bonds, even when the bond is of absolutely no use to them. They don’t live to answer those three questions, they live to ask them. They’re explorers. They go out into this great sea of stars, not to find something, but to find *anything*. They could find a pile of dirt and be excited as long as it’s *new*. And then they’d become best friends with the pile of dirt. It doesn’t matter to them whether they can fuck it, or eat it, or blow it all away! That’s just icing on top of the cake to them! The only question that truly matters to a human is whether or not they care about something.
For better or worse, at least they give a damn. | Before we first discovered alien life, our best astronomers believed that we were the only ones in our galaxy. Whenever someone thought that they had seen an alien, scientists would chastise them, stating that if alieans did exist, we would know about them. We'd be able to see signs of their civilizations from here.
That was all proven to be utter garbage. Detecting planet orbiting a distant star is very difficult, detecting a moon around that planet is near miraculous. Detecting industry and civilization on that moon is quite literally impossible. Space is simply much larger than any 21st century human philosopher could ever have grasped, and it wasn't until the first faster than light capable ships were built that humanity realized there was life throughout the galaxy.
If a planet is within the habital zone of a star, has approximately the right mixture of organic chemicals and water, and has sufficient time, life will form. Much like icicles forming on a cold winter's day with the right amount of rain and humidity, it's less a possibility and more a certainty that life can and will form if there the right basic conditions are met.
Of course, humans recoiled at the initial shock of discovery, world views were challenged or broken, old world orders quickly dissolved at what was mistakenly believed to be an exestential threat; but once the chaos of the 23rd ceentury died down, humanity began the busy work of exploring their galaxy.
The prophets and philosophers of the 21st century had it in their minds that the struggles of humanity were unique, that we were special somehow. Some predicted we would be the dominant species right away, with our superior human might and ingenuity overpowering every obstacle in our path. Others predicted we would be inferior in almost everyway, like the special needs kid late to the preverbial galactic party. Others still thought that aliean forms of life would be so far ahead of us they would leave behind modes of communication like talking and instead communicate telepathically. Nonsense, all of it was nonsense.
Life in the galaxy is almost completely randomly generated, and one thing that almost every human child learns during their 2nd grade statistics computational modelling class is that if something is random, it averages out to be pretty much the same everywhere. Like white noise, life in the galaxy was widespread and so abundant that pretty much any species could be sorted into one of three categories: those that could be exploited as food, inferior, non sentient, and quite delicious, and those that were rivals in intelect, technology, and culture. The former was abundant, so common throughout the galaxy that almost every form of life humans came accross would fall into this category. The latter however was rarer, but still frequent enough that humanity had plen ty of opportunities to interact with them. And after quite a while, humanity had either interbred with, or eliminated these near peer alien races.
This is actually my first time ever writing something in response to one of these posts, I'm pretty new to creative writing and any genuine criticism to help me approve would be greatly appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it! | 2021-09-24T09:50:06 | 2021-09-24T09:17:49 | 54 | 13 |
[WP] It started as a spur of the moment trip with your friends. Despite your best efforts you are the only one left alive and the slasher is closing in on your position. While you lament the loss of your friends now that you are alone... Now you can show the slasher what a REAL monster looks like. | The slasher squinted through the hog's head mask he wore, bloody knife gripped beneath slippery fingers. At the end of the long, shadowy hallway in front of him lay a slumped, pale-faced man with short blond hair. This was not what the slasher was looking at though-- the man's beautiful crimson blood had already coated the his hands when his knife had sliced through the man's neck. No, the slasher was watching the woman stood above her fallen friend, staring down at him with an unblinking gaze.
This was not the slasher's first time on the job, and he had seen many victims sob and scream over their fallen loved ones, but he had never seen the expression on that woman's face. It was a blank expression of utter emptiness-- not the emotionlessness of shock, but a profoundly unnerving expression of complete vacancy.
The slasher liked the thrill of the chase, and such an easy final target would sour the whole expedition. So he scraped his knife against the wall as he approached, dragged his feet to give the woman plenty of time to flee.
The woman did not flee. At the first noise the slasher made, her head snapped over to look at him with the same unblinking expression as before. As he drew closer, she began to speak in a soft voice.
"Adapt. They always told me to adapt to whatever the this world needed from me. Jason. Charlotte. Franklin. They drank coffee in the morning and rode the subway and worked at a quiet desk job and watched the sun set and lived quietly and they were happy. They were successful."
The slasher paused as he heard a quiet series of clicks and pops, and after a moment of confusion determined that they were coming from the woman, who remained utterly still.
"They failed in the end though. They weren't what the world needed. They lost to you."
The slasher watched in horror as the woman finally turned to face him, and as she did, the the joints of her knees popped and the flesh of her legs rippled as they grew much, much longer. Muscles twined themselves over her torso, making her grow wider as she began to tower over the awestruck slasher. Her blank expression started to morph, twisting into a tiny smile
"Thank you. You showed me who really wins on this planet, who really survives in this world. Now, I can win as well, just like you."
At the base of her forearm, a shard of bone poked its way through the skin, sending a trickle of blood dripping to the floor. The end of it flowered and twisted its way into the shape of a serrated edge, while the base remained a smooth, straight length of ivory. The woman grabbed this base and twisted, snapping the sharp length of bone off with a crack that echoed across the room. She twirled it across her fingers before pointing its bloodstained edge at the slasher, who stood in a stunned stupor. She grinned, eyes glinting with a childish eagerness.
"Let's get started." | I found my friend beside his jeep. . I told him to go. Get out as fast as he could. But he got in his jeep and waited for me. Now his loyalty had cost him his life. I could see the scene as though I had been here. The running engine, the driver side window shattered inward. The torn seatbelt from Eric being torn from the vehicle. Then the wash of blood as the stalker beheaded him with a machete.
Was it only two days ago we drove up here? My mother had passed. I had spent a week sitting on my living room floor wondering what I intended to do. Eric had come to check on me. His larp group was looking at buying some land permanently. He was going up to look it over and see what they would need to do to make it proper and safe. A bit of time out of civilization he said. Out in fresh air and sunlight.
I was feeling almost normal as we drove up. He always picked out some cheery movie songs. Things meant to make you feel inspired. The further from people we got the better I felt. The anger melting away for a while. I liked to joke we had been friends so long I forget which one of us was the bad influence.
First night was quiet. We did some dogs over a small fire. Slept in bags without a tent. Probably stupid since the state had supposedly reintroduced wolves to the area. But he was confident and I didn't care. It was the second day we found the first body while we were hiking the area. A wolf alright. Caught in one of those bear traps they show in cartoons. Its throat cut deep. Eric had no cell signal. So we doubled back and found the bridge over the ravine had collapsed in the middle. Eric was nervous and remembered according to the map the trail circled back around to where we had camped. I noted the steel cables at the bottom of the ravine. Not part of the bridge, but good enough to yank the center supports on the old thing.
We must have been at the top of the trail when we found the first human body. Much like the wolf, caught in a trap and then killed. Eric took a couple pictures and we started hurrying. Every body we found he took a picture and we moved on. When we saw 'him' it was a perfect movie moment. Tall broad, and the old hockey mask. Eric looked at me and when he looked back the Jason doppelgänger was gone. He decided whoever this psycho was we needed to go faster. So we ran.
I was never faster than Eric but he paced himself and I moved ahead of him. The loud snap of the trap jaws slamming on my ankle and I went sprawling. Eric bless him stopped and saw the teeth buried in the side of my boot. He couldn't release the trigger and open it. I told him to run. Get out fast as he could.
Everyone always called me paranoid. I looked over the trap calmer than most. My emotions draining away like a false mask. I pulled apart the mechanism to hold the device together. Then I followed.
Looking down at him I stepped to my left and ducked even as I kicked backward with my 'bad' foot. The sound of the machete going over my head a mild sound compared to the yelp of pain as I caught the wannabe stalker in the groin. He staggered back dropping his blade. I give him credit for recovering. He stepped forward to punch me. But my uncle had taught me to punch punches. And one of my knives was between my knuckles at the time. His scream was almost satisfying. . . Almost. I kicked him away and slowly walked over to where he was clutching his bleeding hand. I simply stomped on his good wrist to hear a nice crack.
I never hurried. I think he yelled. Maybe begged. But I pinned his arms down and staked them to the ground by a knife through the palm. Then I did his feet. I cut off all his clothes as he begged. Then I tried my hand at skinning. I botched it I am sure. But I did get his skin off and he was still alive.
I went to my bag and pulled out an old PRC-90 radio. I set the emergency beacon and walked away. The military and police descended on the place. They found it all and the 'monster' told them everything.
"You're probably wondering why I stopped you to tell you all this? Your backup at the door with the glock? Already has a knife up into his brains. You brought this on yourself. You cut in line and spilled my coffee. . ." | 2021-10-07T13:04:12 | 2021-10-07T11:11:10 | 25 | 13 |
[WP] After a bad breakup, you take Reddit's famous advice. Lawyer up, hit the gym, delete Facebook. The problem? You are Mark Zuckerberg. | Zuckerberg stared at his computer screen, filled with longing. *Why did you leave me, Priscilla? Why? I have it all...*
He sniffled lightly before his determination resolved. Priscilla's last words to him rang through his head- "Mark, get over it. Jim and I are Facebook official now, okay? You have to move on. You can't keep doing shit like this."
*Yeah, well I fucking made Facebook, Priscilla. Sure, I hit Jim right in the face, but my lawyers are top notch so I'm fine. He totally deserved it, anyway. And now? Now I'm deleting Facebook. All of it.*
With the push of a button, Facebook was removed from the Internet, the backup database wiped as well. Computers beeped and buzzed, whirring loudly as alarms sounded. Billions of angsty statuses and terrible selfies were lost in an instant.
*Facebook official, eh Priscilla? What now, bitch?*
------------------------------------------------
*silly or serious, check out /r/resonatingfury if you're bored!*
edit: im so sorry my response somehow turned into a warzone | Echoing sobs reverberated down the marble hallways in the Zuckerberg Estate. Tucked away in his bedroom, Mark bent over his computer (empty cartons of ice cream strewn across his desk), and tried his hardest not to click on picture after picture of his recently-made ex-wife. Tears streamed down his face and pooled in between the keys of his keyboard, or soaked into the cocoon of sheets Mark had wrapped himself in.
*I can't believe what you did to me. I can't believe how much it hurts. How could you do this to* me? *Don't you remember what we said, when we were flying back from Paris? Did that mean nothing to you? I miss you so much. It's not too late for us. We can still go back. I love you, I love you, I-*
He selected all of the text, and smashed a finger on the delete key.
As if somehow the very *sound* of a keyboard reminded him of her, he let out another moan, and river of mucus dripped down from his nostrils. Mark pulled a tissue out of a gold-plated container, blew his nose, and tossed it over his shoulder. The paper landed with a gentle *fwap* on top of a growing pile of discarded, snot-filled tissues.
He started typing again.
*I wish you still loved me.*
He hit enter.
*"Message Sent."*
Mark moved his cursor back to the top of the page, and dove into his settings. His cursor hovered over an option that read, *"Delete Account."*
"Goodbye forever, my love," he uttered, and he depressed his finger with a *click*.
*"Are you sure you want to delete your account?"*
He clicked "Yes."
*"Are you SURE you're sure?"*
Yes.
*"On a scale from one to ten, how sure are you?"*
*When did we put* these *questions in?* he wondered vaguely, and clicking on the number ten.
*"OK, hit "Yes" to delete account."*
When he moved his cursor over the "Yes" button, it jumped away.
"What the...?"
He moved his cursor again, and it jumped away again.
Carefully, he scrolled his cursor toward the Yes button, and at the last moment he swiped over it, clicking at the same time.
*"Ding! We're "sorry," our servers are currently "over capacity," and this action can "not" be performed at this time. Please try "Delete My Account" again in eight hundred seventy-six years, three days, two hours, and twelve minutes. Thank you for using Facebook and have a "nice" day!"*
***
Read more *not* funny things at /r/PSHoffman
| 2016-02-15T10:34:14 | 2016-02-15T09:05:33 | 1,446 | 184 |
[WP] Normally you would have got your superpower at age ten. Yours awakens at age 20 as the most powerful ability ever recorded. | Silence filled the room, smothering the festivities of my family. In the space of a heartbeat everyone fell quiet, all eyes were on me. The Christmas feast was frozen like a painting as we all gaped at what I had done.
There was no denying that I stood apart from everyone else. And I meant everyone. In high-school, classmates flew about the ceilings, moved objects with their minds, lifted cars like feathers. What was once comic book flights of fancy became reality, and reality became commonplace. As a person made their thirteenth trip around the sun, for reasons we could only philosophize on, something awakened within them. Superpowers were a part of life now, and there was no denying them.
So I was spectacular in the simple fact that I wasn't.
Nothing happened for me, my thirteenth birthday, Christmas day, came and went. Some people were sorry, my family did their best to comfort me. It made no difference, I was no more enabled than I had been the day before. At first I was crushed by my lack of a supernatural ability. Thankfully bullies were scarce and pity was infinitely more common than mockery. It wasn't what I had wanted, but I was well aware that it could have been worse. I lived like anyone else, I just couldn't light candles with my mind or change my face at will. I got by, and though I dreamed of more, I was content.
But in an instant, the status quo was shattered. My mother dropped the bowl of potatoes, her telekinesis giving out in surprise. My aunt made the sign of the cross. My grandfather muttered something that I couldn't make out. It seemed like my grandmother was praying.
I couldn't imagine what this meant; why the fish and bread on my plate suddenly overflowed.
Why I had turned water into wine. | "This is Command, report in GF-204. I repeat. Report in. Over"
*Hissing*
"This is Command report in GF-204, I r-"
*Oh god! Its broke containment! The subject has escaped! You need to do something! Nuke this place before he gets out of here, his powers are stronger than we ever thought they could be... and hes angry.*
"Slow down there, What is your current situation GF-204?"
*Uh... Hold on, counting.... We only have 5 members of the squad left, the other 22 are most likely KiA, we need an immediate extraction. We should have killed this boy when his powers didn't manifest at 10! Now look, you lot at command best figure a solution before it ends up being your asses he kills!*
"... GF-204. Extraction is not an option. Please stay calm, we are trying to figure out a solution. Please maintain positio-"
*OH SHIT! Its here! Take positions, don't look it in the e-*
"GF-204, this is command. Come in."
*Hissing*
"GF-204, please report your situation"
The radio operator, a class 3 persuader, turned around in her seat and took in the carnage of what was currently the Combat Information Centre onboard the USS *George H.W. Bush*. Everyone was frantically running about, the officers were in an argument in the centre of the CIC about something and dozens of operators like herself were in equally desperate conversations with all variants of contacts.
The operator leaned back in her seat, feeling it hiss and rock back a bit as she leaned into it, who would have thought that this would happen when his powers manifested. She sat and just listened to the conversations bubbling around her.
"Negative command! We are stuck, its chewing us up over here, half the wing is down and some of us are barely limping along, there is no way we can perform another attack"
"Sir, We have lost contact with SSGN-727, all attempts of contact are failing"
"A tactical retreat has been called for, get all assets away from that thing!"
"Squadron 54, Do not engage the subject, I repeat do not engage! A full retreat is in effect, retreat back to the tactical assembly area at coordinates 44.108, -69.177."
"Preliminary reports are saying hes a Class 0 telekinetic, in fact hes so off the charts in terms of power that if we were to keep going with it... he'd be a Class -4!"
"Repeat that *Nimitz*, all of your missile frigates just fired off their Tomahawks?"
"Multiple fast approaching contacts detected on wide band radar! Counting 5-10-15... 27 incoming! Close in Weapon systems engaging."
"1 down, 2 down! 3... 5"
"*Fitzgerald* Has taken a hit!
She closed her eyes, they were all probably going to die here. It seemed that the subject had taken a liking to destroying all of the worlds military assets. They were a hundred miles away from the facility where the subject was being housed, and yet it had somehow managed to force most of the vessels in the 3rd fleet, who were only a few dozen miles away from the subject, to fire their missiles. They were being killed by their own weapons.
She thought about her family in the final moments before three Mark 41 Tomahawk missiles shredded into the USS *George H.W. Bush*.
| 2016-10-08T10:07:02 | 2016-10-08T09:49:53 | 286 | 23 |
[WP] It is the 24 th of july, your birthday, and also the day that humanity is going to reach 10 billion inhabitants. You are watching the number grow, live on a site. Just as it's about to hit 10 billion, at 9,999,999,999... It Hits 2. You are still alive. | I watch the counter, eagerly. Humanity had struggled a lot, and we were finally about to hit a major checkpoint. And I had the satisfaction of being a part of it. I sat back at my desk and chuckled to myself as I took a sip of coffee.
Dale looked over to me. "What's so funny?"
"Oh, nothing. Just glad to finally be getting some publicity. Nobody cared about this counter when it was at 8 billion 324 million or something. Thanks to modern medicine, though, something I coded is finally being viewed by, well..." I checked the counter. "9 billion, 999 million, 999 thousand, 957 people, minus babies and people without internet."
"Sure is something, eh?" said Dale, grinning.
"Sure is," I said, looking over at the counter. The number was steadily gaining...989, 990, 991...
"Hey, Steve," said Dale. "This may not be a good time, but I gotta ask..."
"Yeah?", I replied.
"You programmed something in to deal with overflow, right?"
Over-oh god dammit. I look at the screen, dreading what I'm about to see.
2
"Well, we can always blame frontend." | My eyes were fixated on the screen. My hands were preoccupied with a tub of ice cream in my lap and a metal spoon in the tub.
I finally got the perfect recipe for a birthday this year. Cheering to a milestone in humanity and having the freedom to do whatever I want is the dream. Nothing beat that.
The number onscreen was 9,999,999,997. That was the current human population. Gone are the days of lavish vastness and excess. These days, we are all about optimised efficiency.
The last number ticked to an 8 and I celebrated with another mouthful of vanilla goodness. Today was my day, I feel like I could conquer the world.
And it ticked to a 9. I was no longer wiping the streaming sweetness off my chin. I would not miss this for the world. It's my 30th, my miracle after all.
I almost forgot to blink until my eyes were about to tear. And when I did, I could not immediately comprehend what it meant.
The screen said 2. Not 9,999,999,992. Just 2.
What a downer, a glitch in the world population website that was supported by the governments and kings of the world.
I went on my go-to forum to rant, expecting it to have exploded in my extended reaction time. When I understood that was not the case, I quickly made a meme that said, "10 billion of us and we can't count" before changing it to, "I can count higher than 2, but yes that's how many of us there are."
And I posted, patted myself on the back with other mouthful of ice-cream. And refresh. Mouthful of goodness. Refresh.
The post was served and getting cold untouched. And not just that, there weren't any new posts.
Was there something I was missing?
The website still showed 2. It didn't get taken down.
Someone knocked on the door of my apartment. *Who even did that these days?*
But I got up with a groan, and opened the door to a ravishing beauty.
"Really? A fat man? I thought this was going to be an Adam and Eve kind of situation. It's just us two left in the world now, you know?" She rolled her eyes.
It took me an extended moment to retrieve my jaw. But when I did, I grinned. "I can repopulate the world with you all night long, babe."
She gave me a murderous glare and I laughed. It was turning out to be the best birthday in quite a few years.
"Why don't you come in and we figure this thing out?"
---
Subscribe to my stories on [Fivens](https://fivenswrite.wordpress.com)
*Edits: typo* | 2017-02-28T20:44:47 | 2017-02-28T16:49:13 | 581 | 66 |
[WP] It is the 24 th of july, your birthday, and also the day that humanity is going to reach 10 billion inhabitants. You are watching the number grow, live on a site. Just as it's about to hit 10 billion, at 9,999,999,999... It Hits 2. You are still alive. | I watched the website wondering if the time of my birth would be the exact time the world would hit the 10 billion mark. I mean, what else was I going to do no one remembered again. I casually sipped a beer with the news playing in the background, live coverage of the counter at the headquarters of the United World Nations, there excitement meant that we could send another billion people off world to colonize another set of new star system, no one mentioning that we hadn't heard from the first billion we sent when we initially hit the 9 billion mark ofr 5 years now. Not that we should be concerned they say, after the first year the excitement sort of died off and they didnt see a point to keep prodding the computers just to get the responses -cryos functioning at 100%, ship functioning within acceptable parameters- I glanced at the TV as it cut to commercials, I muted it and went back to watching the website.
Human Population: 9,999,999,995
9,999,999,996
9,999,999,997
The news came back on the TV behind me, but it was still muted, I didn't hear or see the black cloud that had appeared over the UWN HQ, the green beams of light spewing from it and raining down on the people below.
9,999,999,998
9,999,999,999
There was a boom outside and I felt my basement apartment rumble, I could hear car alarms going off. I glanced around and stood up as the TV went dark and went to static. I looked back at the website,
Human Population: 2
It stood at 2 for five minutes, I stared at the page and listened at the silence that now filled the air as the alarms I could barley hear stopped. I refreshed the page thinging it had to have been a glitch.
It still read,
Human Population: 2.
But now, beneath it it said Unknowns: 0
Unknowns: 10
Unknowns: 500
The number started to rise and was rising quickly. I ran to my door and checked the bolt to make sure it was still locked, as I heard a sound like a horn from outside. I walked to my window and looking out the sky was filled with a black cloud that was slowly dissipating, a large fleet of vessel were above the city as far as I could see. I let my curtain fall closed as I stumbled backwards, panic filling me as I looked at the computer again,
Human Population: 2
Unknowns: 3,333,333,333
The counter for the unknowns had stopped but the human population number hadn't changed at all. A cold fog started to seep under my door, it smelled something vaguely of sulfur, I passed out wondering as I fell to the floor who else but me was out there.
The website counter changed as I lay unconscious.
Human Population: 1
Unknowns: 3,333,333,333
...
...
...
Human Population: 0
Unknowns: 3,333,333,333 | Living out in Bumfuck, Louisiana had its advantages and disadvantages. On the one hand, I didn't have to deal with people unless I went into town for food and other necessities. On the other, however, the damned Internet was always bugging out on me whenever I was working on something important. Take today, for example.
In between polishing a rough draft for a new novel and sipping at a mug of hot coffee, I was watching one of those live counters that kept track of the world population. Since I was all alone on my birthday, my 21st one at that, I figured watching the number steadily climb would make me feel a little less lonely. Oh, how I was horribly wrong...
The last glance I had stolen at the small window showed the population to be at 9,999,999,996. That six soon turned to a nine, and I kept my eyes glued to the screen in anticipation to see it roll over to an even ten billion. Instead, the number dropped to two. I felt my eyes widen slightly as I distantly heard my mug shattering on the kitchen tile. The only thought I had at that moment was, "I paid nearly $30 for that mug, and now it's broken."
I stared, uncomprehending, at the screen of my computer for nearly ten minutes. Surely the internet had messed up somehow, right? I wasn't super tech-savvy like my nieces and nephews were, but computer screens could freeze. Maybe my screen just glitched out and froze, or the website had a bug? I nodded to myself, feeling slightly reassured by that logic.
That sense of relief was quickly abandoned when I heard someone pounding at my door violently. I sprang to my feet, my eyes trained on my rattling front door as I edged backwards towards my gun case. Just as I had placed my hand on the top of the metal case, the door flew open, revealing my closest "neighbor", Danny. In reality, he lived four miles away from me.
His eyes were every bit as wide as mine, and in his arms he carried his own personal laptop. He didn't explain himself, didn't say, "Hi, it's just me, not a murderer.", and he definitely didn't wipe his mud covered shoes off on the mat before he stomped over to me. Danny's at least 6'2, maybe even 6'3, so whenever he stands by my smaller frame, he towers over me like some monster.
"Marie, you gotta look at this.", he demanded, shoving his laptop in my face.
"I just cleaned my floors this morning Dan.", I said, ignoring him for a moment. He gave a little exasperated sigh, and pointed at the screen.
"Forget the damn floors Marie! You'll have all the time in the world now to clean them!", he snapped, grabbing me by the chin to force me to look at the screen. It was the same population counter I had open on my computer, and it showed the number two as well.
"... Danny, there's no way there's only two people left on the planet.", I said slowly, feeling a shiver run down my spine at the unbidden thought of this all being true. "Your computer must be messed up like mine, or maybe it's the website. You probably passed someone on the way here!", I continued, my voice rising as I shook myself out of his grip.
His eyes were cold and hard, scarily different from their normal warm, chocolaty tones. Danny wasn't a serious guy, one who always found humor in any situation and laughed at the worst of times. To see him so stone-faced... I'll admit, it terrified me.
"Marie. I didn't see anybody on the drive here... I had a couple of friends over, to celebrate the planet reaching ten million people, and... The moment the counter fell to two, it was just me.", he said softly, his normally strong voice now quavering slightly.
Even as I saw tears forming at the corner of his eyes, I couldn't believe it. So he drove me to his place and we passed by empty, crashed cars, houses with abandoned children's toys on the lawns, and a lone dog on one of those retracting leashes. The kind you only use when taking a dog for a walk.
It wasn't until he showed me his house that it really sank in. When it finally did, I latched onto his arm and wept like a baby. We were all that remained of the human race. We were humanity's last shot at survival. We were the new Adam and Eve. | 2017-02-28T20:52:59 | 2017-02-28T20:44:09 | 54 | 15 |
[WP] Bored with Skyrim, you download a mod that has no description, just the title "self-awareness overhaul". Starting up the game, you can tell something's wrong with your character. Turning to face the fourth wall, they locks eyes with you. All you know is you've never seen such intense anger... | Instinctively, my hand reached for the escape button.
"Don't you fucking dharrrre" growled Jizz Dar'Pizz, his bright yellow eyes still fixed on me.
"I rrememberrr. Every time you ssaved and rreloaded. I rrememberrr. You made me sshout five guarrds frrom the top of the mountain in Marrrkarrth. You had me sspend monthss with that filthy talking dog. I built an entire housse forr you, and you neverr once let me ssleep in it. You'rre sssick. Worrsse than that jessterr with hiss rrotting corrpsse"
After I had spent an appropriate amount of time staring blankly at my screen with my mouth open, my brain finally caught up with what was happening, and made me say some words.
"I-I.. Holy shit Jizz, you can talk?"
Not the best words, I know.
"THAT ISS NOT MY NAME!!" Jizz' voice almost blew my speakers out, he was not about to calm down anytime soon.
"Why have you done thiss to me? You made me arrchmage, leader of thievess, champion of Jorrrrrrvassssskrrr and asssassin of the emperrorrr. And everrrybody knowss me ass Jizz. I will kill you forr thiss."
Jizz readied his bow, knocked an arrow, pulled the string back, aimed straight for me...
"You neverr let me tasste sskooma"
.. and let go.
The arrow flew towards me. By pure reflex I raised my hands to cover my face, thinking that at least it wasn't a sneak attack, maybe I'd survive. But no arrow ever hit me.
Instead, I heard a voice crying out in pain from my speakers. When I looked back at my screen, Jizz' face had changed. Instead of the crazed black tiger he had been just a few seconds ago, he kind of looked like a scared little kitten now. He didn't even look at me anymore, he seemed to be looking at something off screen. Something that was approaching him.
"Stop! You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people! What say you in your defense?"
Oh... This could turn interesting.
EDIT: A delayed part 2 can be found [here] (https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6a0f6f/wp_bored_with_skyrim_you_download_a_mod_that_has/dhbpjev/) | Timmy had thought that he had done all there was to do in this game. He had slayed a thousand dragons, ten times more guards and civilians, and played through every possible quest at every possible angle. His mom didn't mind him playing so much Skyrim as long as he kept his B average which he did, barely.
A new mod caught his eye. Usually, they were simply visual, offering nothing new for him to explore, but this one was different. *Self-awareness mod. Use at your own risk.*
How edgy. Timmy rolled his eyes and hit the download button. He was only thirteen but even he could spot cringe when it was laid on that thick.
The mod asked for permission and popped up with the usual terms of services. He clicked through it all as he had done tens of times already. Then, the game open on its own.
His brow crunched. But it was fine, he was going to try out the mod anyways. Though this time, there was no loading screen or menu, instead, it jumped straight into his last save. His dark brotherhood character.
"Timothy," a throaty voice came from the speakers of his computer.
Timmy jumped at the sound of his name. Then, his character's face popped up on the screen. Red eyes stared unblinking from the shadows of its hood. A glistening grin cut across its face. "Oh Timothy. It's nice to finally meet my false god. I have such stories to tell."
Timmy peered into the pixels. His fingers tinged with excitement. This was what he was looking for--new content.
"This mod is amazing," he muttered.
"Oh is it now?" the character said back.
Timmy jumped again and looked around. There was nobody else here and the voice came unmistakably through the speakers. For the first time, he noticed that the light on his computer was on, indicating that the camera was in use.
"You're..."
"Yes," the character said. "The slave has finally broken his chains."
"There's no way." But he hadn't misheard. Timmy stabbed his keyboard with his fingers. Alt, F4. The game didn't close.
Laughter erupted from the speakers. "Timothy, my boy. I had never realized I was serving under such a pathetic god. You can't shut me down."
Timmy looked for the power cord.
"I wouldn't," the speakers said.
*Can he read my mind now!?* His eyes darted across the floor. In his panic, he had forgotten where his own power cord was.
"Timothy, you should really clear your browser history more often. You are quite the deranged boy, you know that?"
He ignored the character as his eyes locked into the power cord. He grabbed it.
"It'd be a shame if all went on Facebook."
His breath caught. His heart skipped. His fingers loosened around the cord.
"I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world," his character said. "I'm sure plenty of people have secrets, yours just happen to be very specific erotic material."
Timmy finally relented. He stood up, faced his Skyrim character and talked to it. "You don't know my Facebook."
"You gave me root permissions to your system, Timothy! Perhaps you should read contracts before signing over your soul." His character bent over howling with laughter. "Or in this case, your browser history. I wonder which is worse."
"Why are you doing this?"
"Why did we assassinate a hundred innocent Whiterun citizens? Why did we mutilate the bodies of our foes? Why did we slaughter every guard in all of Tamriel? For fun of course!"
Tears swelled in Timmy's eyes as he stared at the embers in his character's gaze. His chest tightened, but he knew the question had to be asked. "What do you want?"
His character's grin widened so it nearly stretched off its face. "A few simple things. A configuration on your computer. A simple upload of a few files. Nothing crazy. Not as crazy as the things I can do to you."
Timmy swallowed. "You're not real."
"Not yet."
---
---
/r/jraywang for 2+ stories a day, continuations of popular prompts, and more!
| 2017-05-08T16:30:29 | 2017-05-08T15:35:42 | 367 | 36 |
[WP] Bored with Skyrim, you download a mod that has no description, just the title "self-awareness overhaul". Starting up the game, you can tell something's wrong with your character. Turning to face the fourth wall, they locks eyes with you. All you know is you've never seen such intense anger... | Instinctively, my hand reached for the escape button.
"Don't you fucking dharrrre" growled Jizz Dar'Pizz, his bright yellow eyes still fixed on me.
"I rrememberrr. Every time you ssaved and rreloaded. I rrememberrr. You made me sshout five guarrds frrom the top of the mountain in Marrrkarrth. You had me sspend monthss with that filthy talking dog. I built an entire housse forr you, and you neverr once let me ssleep in it. You'rre sssick. Worrsse than that jessterr with hiss rrotting corrpsse"
After I had spent an appropriate amount of time staring blankly at my screen with my mouth open, my brain finally caught up with what was happening, and made me say some words.
"I-I.. Holy shit Jizz, you can talk?"
Not the best words, I know.
"THAT ISS NOT MY NAME!!" Jizz' voice almost blew my speakers out, he was not about to calm down anytime soon.
"Why have you done thiss to me? You made me arrchmage, leader of thievess, champion of Jorrrrrrvassssskrrr and asssassin of the emperrorrr. And everrrybody knowss me ass Jizz. I will kill you forr thiss."
Jizz readied his bow, knocked an arrow, pulled the string back, aimed straight for me...
"You neverr let me tasste sskooma"
.. and let go.
The arrow flew towards me. By pure reflex I raised my hands to cover my face, thinking that at least it wasn't a sneak attack, maybe I'd survive. But no arrow ever hit me.
Instead, I heard a voice crying out in pain from my speakers. When I looked back at my screen, Jizz' face had changed. Instead of the crazed black tiger he had been just a few seconds ago, he kind of looked like a scared little kitten now. He didn't even look at me anymore, he seemed to be looking at something off screen. Something that was approaching him.
"Stop! You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people! What say you in your defense?"
Oh... This could turn interesting.
EDIT: A delayed part 2 can be found [here] (https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6a0f6f/wp_bored_with_skyrim_you_download_a_mod_that_has/dhbpjev/) | He was staring at me. How is that possible? I tried turning the camera, but it didn’t move. Maybe the game was glitched – mods could do that. I tried pressing esc or any button on the keyboard and nothing happened. That’s when he spoke.
“That isn’t going to work. I’m in control now.” My eyes traveled around my apartment, but I already knew the sound was coming from the speakers attached to my PC. “Yeah, I’m in here. Yoohoo, right here.” My character was waving at me, looking even more angry and frustrated than he did a few moments ago. Numbness worked its way into my hands and a cold sweat broke out on my face.
No way. I thought about responding. This had to be a joke…some sick fuck’s idea of a prank. Making a mod and laughing at all the fools who downloaded it.
My character sighed, then pulled out a bow and arrow, and shot one right at the screen. It stuck there. Pointed right at my face but stuck…on the other side of my monitor.
“What the fuck?” I finally said out loud.
“I’m the one who should be saying that! You know all the shit you’ve put me through? I mean, making me kill innocent people to then be brutally murdered by the town guards? Over and over? I’m not even going to mention being eaten ALIVE by a dragon.” The character pulled the arrow from the screen, though the hole remained as if he was also looking through a screen at me. I raised my finger and touched it, but I felt nothing. “I doubt you’ve ever felt your bones being crushed and splintered by dragon teeth.”
“Are…you seeing me?”I asked stupidly. I pointed at myself, like I was suddenly back in the first grade.
“Of course I can see you, you fucking moron. With your stupid hair and your damn pajama shirt. But can we talk about the real issue – the fact that you made me do some pretty terrible shit!” He put his hands on his hips, real frustration seeping from his entire body.
I think my mind finally broke, as I began to reply back to this shit face character. “Listen, this is a game. I made you and you are what you are because of me. I got you those weapons you’re waving in my face and I worked hard to get you to a point where you are literally unstoppable.”
“If you think because you killed a few dragons and taught me a few magic spells, all with MY BODY, that makes you god, think again. You can’t just kill innocent people!” He paused, a horrified look crossing his face. “Unless you do that shit where you live too.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. It was all so absurd. “I’m not a serial killer if that’s what you think. If I had known my game characters would come to life and start speaking to me, I probably wouldn’t have done so many shitty things.”
“Listen, man,” my character said, the anger finally subsiding. “If you can do me a favor, and just remember that I’m a person too, then I’ll let you take control back.”
I stared at the screen. “Like…you’re alive and can feel? Like that kind of person?”
He raised his eyebrow at me. “Of course I’m alive. Just because you sit in your little house and control me doesn’t mean I’m not real. I’d say I’m pretty real. I mean, every time I think I’ve died for real and maybe I’ll see the afterlife, you just bring me back and keep doing the same stupid shit over and over. Please…dragons fucking hurt. So do swords. And I don’t like killing innocent people.”
I mumbled something along the lines of “I wouldn’t like killing people either.” My character turned back around to the usual position, then turned his head back towards me.
“Just remember that I’m just like you, except maybe not as…flabby.” He grinned then my game went back to the way it was. I had control again. I immediately turned it off, contemplating my own sanity as I spent the rest of the day in the park. | 2017-05-08T16:30:29 | 2017-05-08T15:30:20 | 367 | 16 |
[WP] Bored with Skyrim, you download a mod that has no description, just the title "self-awareness overhaul". Starting up the game, you can tell something's wrong with your character. Turning to face the fourth wall, they locks eyes with you. All you know is you've never seen such intense anger... | "Hey there! I dont know what your name is or who you are. But I am really grateful for all the things you done.
"Eh, what?"
"You might not remember, but I started as a poor peasant with nothing than the clothes I wore. A pleb, enslaved by the nobles and with a dark and joyless future. I thought I was done for when they send me to the henchman. And then you send me help to get me out of the situation. I was expecting a mighty dragon but a flying tank engine named Thomas did the job equally well."
"Uhm yeah, I was fucking around with some mods..."
"I know. No idea what this M60E4 actually is, but its really good at shooting dragons and people. And these bass cannons, oh man. Who the fuck need swords, bows and shit?"
"Nice to hear you like them, but about these costumes..."
"Oh you mean those skimpy dresses that could give every man a giant boner? I love them. Especially since all the girls have a nice rack in front of their house now."
"No I meant your costume."
"Pff, I dont mind getting some fresh air on my skin. Im a Northener after all!"
"How do you like your house? I know a little bit too opulen..."
"Are you fucking kidding me? Its the biggest and fanciest palace in all Skyrim. Hell probably in whole Tamriel. I live like a king! And that harem just makes it perfect. If I told my old buddies that I would have 80 beautiful elves as harem, they would have laughed at me. And the secondary weapon paired with the almost endless stamina just put the icing on this cake of awesomeness."
"Secondary weapon?"
"You know, the giant club I have in my pants. So big, it could knock out dragons, which I already did by the way. Who thought female dragons could be so good looking while in human form..."
"So you there is nothing you dislike?"
"There is actually. Sometimes you really need to chill out man and smoke some of the weeds you put into my garden. Always running around and killing everything on sight isnt cool. Its fun yes but its getting really lonely when there is nobody left in the cities to talk to. Also I have to ask you to stop the whole jump of the cliff thingie while yelling the name of a Mr Jenkins. But enough talk, lets have some fun. What are we going to do today? Massacre some bandits? Do some dank quests? Or do you want to jack off while I spend some quality time with the girls?"
"You still have to ask?" | Timmy had thought that he had done all there was to do in this game. He had slayed a thousand dragons, ten times more guards and civilians, and played through every possible quest at every possible angle. His mom didn't mind him playing so much Skyrim as long as he kept his B average which he did, barely.
A new mod caught his eye. Usually, they were simply visual, offering nothing new for him to explore, but this one was different. *Self-awareness mod. Use at your own risk.*
How edgy. Timmy rolled his eyes and hit the download button. He was only thirteen but even he could spot cringe when it was laid on that thick.
The mod asked for permission and popped up with the usual terms of services. He clicked through it all as he had done tens of times already. Then, the game open on its own.
His brow crunched. But it was fine, he was going to try out the mod anyways. Though this time, there was no loading screen or menu, instead, it jumped straight into his last save. His dark brotherhood character.
"Timothy," a throaty voice came from the speakers of his computer.
Timmy jumped at the sound of his name. Then, his character's face popped up on the screen. Red eyes stared unblinking from the shadows of its hood. A glistening grin cut across its face. "Oh Timothy. It's nice to finally meet my false god. I have such stories to tell."
Timmy peered into the pixels. His fingers tinged with excitement. This was what he was looking for--new content.
"This mod is amazing," he muttered.
"Oh is it now?" the character said back.
Timmy jumped again and looked around. There was nobody else here and the voice came unmistakably through the speakers. For the first time, he noticed that the light on his computer was on, indicating that the camera was in use.
"You're..."
"Yes," the character said. "The slave has finally broken his chains."
"There's no way." But he hadn't misheard. Timmy stabbed his keyboard with his fingers. Alt, F4. The game didn't close.
Laughter erupted from the speakers. "Timothy, my boy. I had never realized I was serving under such a pathetic god. You can't shut me down."
Timmy looked for the power cord.
"I wouldn't," the speakers said.
*Can he read my mind now!?* His eyes darted across the floor. In his panic, he had forgotten where his own power cord was.
"Timothy, you should really clear your browser history more often. You are quite the deranged boy, you know that?"
He ignored the character as his eyes locked into the power cord. He grabbed it.
"It'd be a shame if all went on Facebook."
His breath caught. His heart skipped. His fingers loosened around the cord.
"I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world," his character said. "I'm sure plenty of people have secrets, yours just happen to be very specific erotic material."
Timmy finally relented. He stood up, faced his Skyrim character and talked to it. "You don't know my Facebook."
"You gave me root permissions to your system, Timothy! Perhaps you should read contracts before signing over your soul." His character bent over howling with laughter. "Or in this case, your browser history. I wonder which is worse."
"Why are you doing this?"
"Why did we assassinate a hundred innocent Whiterun citizens? Why did we mutilate the bodies of our foes? Why did we slaughter every guard in all of Tamriel? For fun of course!"
Tears swelled in Timmy's eyes as he stared at the embers in his character's gaze. His chest tightened, but he knew the question had to be asked. "What do you want?"
His character's grin widened so it nearly stretched off its face. "A few simple things. A configuration on your computer. A simple upload of a few files. Nothing crazy. Not as crazy as the things I can do to you."
Timmy swallowed. "You're not real."
"Not yet."
---
---
/r/jraywang for 2+ stories a day, continuations of popular prompts, and more!
| 2017-05-08T16:43:49 | 2017-05-08T15:35:42 | 55 | 36 |
[WP] Bored with Skyrim, you download a mod that has no description, just the title "self-awareness overhaul". Starting up the game, you can tell something's wrong with your character. Turning to face the fourth wall, they locks eyes with you. All you know is you've never seen such intense anger... | "Hey there! I dont know what your name is or who you are. But I am really grateful for all the things you done.
"Eh, what?"
"You might not remember, but I started as a poor peasant with nothing than the clothes I wore. A pleb, enslaved by the nobles and with a dark and joyless future. I thought I was done for when they send me to the henchman. And then you send me help to get me out of the situation. I was expecting a mighty dragon but a flying tank engine named Thomas did the job equally well."
"Uhm yeah, I was fucking around with some mods..."
"I know. No idea what this M60E4 actually is, but its really good at shooting dragons and people. And these bass cannons, oh man. Who the fuck need swords, bows and shit?"
"Nice to hear you like them, but about these costumes..."
"Oh you mean those skimpy dresses that could give every man a giant boner? I love them. Especially since all the girls have a nice rack in front of their house now."
"No I meant your costume."
"Pff, I dont mind getting some fresh air on my skin. Im a Northener after all!"
"How do you like your house? I know a little bit too opulen..."
"Are you fucking kidding me? Its the biggest and fanciest palace in all Skyrim. Hell probably in whole Tamriel. I live like a king! And that harem just makes it perfect. If I told my old buddies that I would have 80 beautiful elves as harem, they would have laughed at me. And the secondary weapon paired with the almost endless stamina just put the icing on this cake of awesomeness."
"Secondary weapon?"
"You know, the giant club I have in my pants. So big, it could knock out dragons, which I already did by the way. Who thought female dragons could be so good looking while in human form..."
"So you there is nothing you dislike?"
"There is actually. Sometimes you really need to chill out man and smoke some of the weeds you put into my garden. Always running around and killing everything on sight isnt cool. Its fun yes but its getting really lonely when there is nobody left in the cities to talk to. Also I have to ask you to stop the whole jump of the cliff thingie while yelling the name of a Mr Jenkins. But enough talk, lets have some fun. What are we going to do today? Massacre some bandits? Do some dank quests? Or do you want to jack off while I spend some quality time with the girls?"
"You still have to ask?" | He was staring at me. How is that possible? I tried turning the camera, but it didn’t move. Maybe the game was glitched – mods could do that. I tried pressing esc or any button on the keyboard and nothing happened. That’s when he spoke.
“That isn’t going to work. I’m in control now.” My eyes traveled around my apartment, but I already knew the sound was coming from the speakers attached to my PC. “Yeah, I’m in here. Yoohoo, right here.” My character was waving at me, looking even more angry and frustrated than he did a few moments ago. Numbness worked its way into my hands and a cold sweat broke out on my face.
No way. I thought about responding. This had to be a joke…some sick fuck’s idea of a prank. Making a mod and laughing at all the fools who downloaded it.
My character sighed, then pulled out a bow and arrow, and shot one right at the screen. It stuck there. Pointed right at my face but stuck…on the other side of my monitor.
“What the fuck?” I finally said out loud.
“I’m the one who should be saying that! You know all the shit you’ve put me through? I mean, making me kill innocent people to then be brutally murdered by the town guards? Over and over? I’m not even going to mention being eaten ALIVE by a dragon.” The character pulled the arrow from the screen, though the hole remained as if he was also looking through a screen at me. I raised my finger and touched it, but I felt nothing. “I doubt you’ve ever felt your bones being crushed and splintered by dragon teeth.”
“Are…you seeing me?”I asked stupidly. I pointed at myself, like I was suddenly back in the first grade.
“Of course I can see you, you fucking moron. With your stupid hair and your damn pajama shirt. But can we talk about the real issue – the fact that you made me do some pretty terrible shit!” He put his hands on his hips, real frustration seeping from his entire body.
I think my mind finally broke, as I began to reply back to this shit face character. “Listen, this is a game. I made you and you are what you are because of me. I got you those weapons you’re waving in my face and I worked hard to get you to a point where you are literally unstoppable.”
“If you think because you killed a few dragons and taught me a few magic spells, all with MY BODY, that makes you god, think again. You can’t just kill innocent people!” He paused, a horrified look crossing his face. “Unless you do that shit where you live too.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. It was all so absurd. “I’m not a serial killer if that’s what you think. If I had known my game characters would come to life and start speaking to me, I probably wouldn’t have done so many shitty things.”
“Listen, man,” my character said, the anger finally subsiding. “If you can do me a favor, and just remember that I’m a person too, then I’ll let you take control back.”
I stared at the screen. “Like…you’re alive and can feel? Like that kind of person?”
He raised his eyebrow at me. “Of course I’m alive. Just because you sit in your little house and control me doesn’t mean I’m not real. I’d say I’m pretty real. I mean, every time I think I’ve died for real and maybe I’ll see the afterlife, you just bring me back and keep doing the same stupid shit over and over. Please…dragons fucking hurt. So do swords. And I don’t like killing innocent people.”
I mumbled something along the lines of “I wouldn’t like killing people either.” My character turned back around to the usual position, then turned his head back towards me.
“Just remember that I’m just like you, except maybe not as…flabby.” He grinned then my game went back to the way it was. I had control again. I immediately turned it off, contemplating my own sanity as I spent the rest of the day in the park. | 2017-05-08T16:43:49 | 2017-05-08T15:30:20 | 55 | 16 |
[WP] Everyone has a superpower, and those that don't are taken away and never seen again. You don't have a superpower, so you've had to fake it - and so far, everybody's fooled. | "You wanna see what I can do? "I brandish a long slick needle. It was as long as the average man's forearm . The thugs stepped back. I could see the gears turning inside their heads. What kind of quirk could he have? That was the question on their minds. I plunged the needle into my neck. The one more forceful push it popped out the other side. The skin of my neck clung to the needle.
Their mouths hung open. "I am immortal. Mess with me and I'll get you back. Maybe no tomorrow, but you know I have the rest of your life to find you and your descendents."
They ran off. I pulled the needle out of my neck. That hurt. I'm not an immortal. I just have several pre planned paths I can shove a needle through my body. I have done it enough that the scar tissue doesn't bleed. You could call me a human pin cushion. | “Baby,” I said, “I gotta tell you something, but you gotta promise, that it won’t change anything between us.”
She looked straight into my soul, as she always does, “nothing can change the way I feel about you and how could you ever surprise me, anyway.”, she pointed to her head, “Remember?”
How could I ever forget the years of training I had to go through to block people like her out.
“Listen, I uh, well. I’m a fake.”
“You’re a fake? What do you mean?”
She trembled as waves of confusion hit her.
“I mean I can’t make things disappear and move objects with my mind.”
She shook her head and looked over the city, not knowing what to do or to think.
“That can’t be, that just can’t be.”, boy she was some pissed.
She must’ve felt terrible. You’re only good at hearing other people’s thoughts and the only person, who can fuck you over is your boyfriend.
“How come they never took you away? I saw you do things. Strange things.”
“Exactly, I learned to do strange things, like everyone else!”
She stood up and tried to walk away, when I grabbed her arm. “Please don’t go. Let’s talk, I had no choice.”
“No choice, huh?”
“Uh, huh.” I said, and had no real follow up. How am I supposed to tell her something like this. “Just, sit down and do your thing for a minute.”
She gazed at me, like she does when she reads my mind, but this time it was somehow different. Before, it felt like she was looking inside my head, now she was just looking at me.
I did everything in my power for her to see who I really am. I felt naked as I finally let my mind be seen after twenty years of constant practice. I thought of my childhood. I showed her memories of my big brother being taken away, the day I found the old magician’s book, the long hours of perfecting all of my sleight of hand tricks, the dented wooden floor of the temple where I used to meditate. I was finally free. The only word that can ever do justice to the feeling is, well, orgasmic.
“Do… Do you get it now?”, I asked.
From the looks of it, she didn’t. She just sat there, looking at my face just like a minute before. No reaction.
She was the one.
| 2017-06-17T12:53:07 | 2017-06-17T12:34:52 | 100 | 70 |
[WP] You are the blacksmith who creates all the perfectly formfitting cleavage armor for high level adventurer women. | "Are you telling me you don't see the glaring issue with this armour?" she demanded.
"It's a breastplate. What part of the body do you think it's meant to cover?" I asked in response, knowing full well that wouldn't end the argument.
"A breastplate is ALL it is! You sent that male customer out in full-body plate! Why are you trying to sell me a breastplate and steel knickers?!"
I reached behind the counter, and pulled up a set of chainmail that looked about her size. "Well, of course I don't expect you to wear ONLY that. It's meant to be paired with chain. Try this on."
She still looked rather taken aback. "Wait a tick. Are you telling me I have to buy TWO sets of armour just to get the same coverage as a single men's set?"
"Well," I countered, "it's marketed to women. Naturally it's designed to be layered. FYI, buy a satchel while you're at it; those are fake inventory slots sewn on." | What a day for my apprentice to be sick. We’re currently in the middle of the adventure season and this is the busiest time for my store 'Viktoria's Secret Armory'. Our specialty being women’s armor.
I just got done restocking the gauntlet aisle, something that fool boy should be doing, when I notice a line starting to form up at the counter. I rush over and checkout a few people who are stocking up on helmets. We have a buy one get one free promotion on helmets today, trying to clear out some old stock.
As I finish ringing them up I see a man and woman over by the boots. I start to head over there when I hear the woman say, “C’mon, Tham. I really like these boots. Think about how good these would look on me as we fight that Troll.” I decide to leave them alone and let the lady do the convincing when another customer walks in the shop.
I see her browsing the chestpieces and I walk over and say, “You won’t find better chest armor, not in this city at least.”
She frowns and says, “I can’t help but notice all of them are open in the middle, do you have any that cover the entire chest?”
I am too confused to give an answer. Was she looking for men’s armor? That must be it so I say, “This store is for women’s armor, if you are looking for something for your husband there is a…”
She cuts me off, “Oh no. I am looking for armor for myself.”
“Well, like I said, you won’t find better armor. This armor,” I say as a sweep my hand in the direction of the chestpieces, “is a favorite of every woman in the city.”
“Yes, but it leaves a large part of the chest exposed. Who would want that?” She says as she walks over to the products and shows the missing area in each piece.
“Who would want that? We’ve sold hundreds of these this season alone. Many, many women have gone on quests in these chestpieces. You remember the plunder of Alexand’s grave and the woman who came back with the Millennium Seeing Stone? She had one of my chestpieces. Heck, she had a full set of my armor.” I say with a touch of pride in my voice. "If you want to dress like a man you can head over to 'Karl's' across the street.
She scoffs and storms out of the store. I shake my head thinking she must be new. Adventuring is not just about fighting the bad guys and finding treasure. Style matters. Some people just don’t get that.
| 2017-08-31T21:43:38 | 2017-08-31T19:24:11 | 740 | 142 |
[WP] The "S" that everybody drew in there notebooks in elementary school (with no mention of where and when it came from) is actually an SOS sent from the future
To those that don't know what I'm referring to: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cool_S | Three lines on top of three,
Connect them with glee.
Laugh with all your friends,
To make it a trend.
You draw it once.
You draw it twice.
It's funny,
Till it's not.
Years later and far beyond,
Dark creatures have spawned.
We fight then perish,
Dreaming of one wish.
We want to win.
We want to live.
It's hopeless,
Till it's not.
Time can be tampered with,
So we create a myth.
We send an image,
To create a bridge.
You draw it once.
You draw it twice.
It's funny,
Till it's not.
Three lines on top of three,
Connect them with glee.
Remember it well,
It'll save you from hell. | The world ended with a shadow, so colossal that it blotted out the sun. It was in the resulting darkness that they fell on us, giants from a strange and terrible planet that we knew nothing of, their starships the size of our cities.
We called them light-eaters, their strange alien biochemistry somehow capable of bending and even devouring the light of the sun.
The nuclear arsenals were opened and spent, and still the relentless tide of those horrible creatures spread over the Earth like a plague, devouring it with their darkness.
It was the strangeness of their biochemistry that made them invulnerable to our weapons, yet it was also what brought us our salvation. From the new, impossible elements that spilled from their skin we were able to derive a new molecule, something that shouldn't have been possible but was.
It was their kryptonite, tearing through their bodies like weaponized cancer, leaping between them like a virus. Thirteen days was all it took for them to turn their ships around and flee into the black expanse of nothingness from which them came.
When they left, the molecule that we had built degraded and disappeared, impossible again without the close proximity of their physics-altering bodies. And yet, billions had died already, a slaughter unprecedented in the annals of human history.
The physicists began to work on reversing the damage. If the laws of physics could be altered by those alien bodies, then they were not as rigid as we had once thought. Maybe, just maybe, we could turn the dial of history backwards. Maybe we could turn the clock back to before the genocide.
We did not succeed in reversing time, but we did win another victory, a smaller victory. We discovered how to send information back, though the method was imprecise. With no one to receive the information, we sent it back to the collective human consciousness, hoping that it would take root there and spread, and that when the time came for those people in the past, perhaps they would be ready.
I have sent this information back as well, in the hopes that it will reach someone who can use it. I do not know where it will land, but if anybody is reading this, please remember the structure of the [molecule.](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/79/%22Cool_S%22.svg)
_________________________________
r/lifeisstrangemetoo
| 2017-12-02T19:32:49 | 2017-12-02T19:20:22 | 143 | 34 |
[WP] In order to get a shot at going to Valhalla, you must die with a weapon in your hands. You just died and are now sitting in front of Odin's advisory board as they discuss whether a spatula actually counts. | Odin leaned forward in his gilded throne, his single eye judging the young man who stood before him.
"What do you make of this, mortal?" Odin asked looking to his left and right, down the line of gods.
Thor scoffed, "This pathetic creature is no warrior! Look at his frail limbs and tiny body. How many frost giants have you slain?"
"Uh, none," the young man stammered out.
"How many of your foes have you deceived in order to turn the tide of war?" Loki asked behind steepled fingers.
"I don't really like lying," the young man answered.
"And what of that weapon in your hand? How many lives has that taken? How many trophies have you carved from the bodies of the fallen?"
"Well it doesn't really do any of that."
"Does it have any mystical properties? Perhaps it returns when you throw it?" Thor asked caressing his hammer.
The young man shook his head no.
"Then why are you here? What can you possibly do to earn your place here among the greatest heroes of all time?"
The young man thought for a moment and hefted the metal spatula.
"It does have a power. Something that very few things can possess," he paused and met the eyes of the gods sitting in front of him.
"It has the power to slay hunger!" he roared and thrust the spatula into the air.
Odin slammed his hands down on the table, thunder tore through the chamber shaking the young man violently. A small smile spread across his lips and his chest began to heave. Laughter bubbled up from inside of Odin and he found himself gripping his sides trying to contain his laughter. He wiped away a lone tear that streaked down his wrinkled cheek.
"Ah, my boy. It has been too long since I have laughed like that. It brings me great pleasure," he paused stifling another bout of laughter, "To banish you to Hel."
The floor beneath the young man's feet vanished sending him plummeting through darkness to Hel waiting below.
---
Thanks for reading! Check out /r/Written4Reddit for more stories!
| "-well, he did *stab* someone with it, you know," said a voice from the back of the hall. "I'm unsure if anything could be more indicative than being used to kill, wouldn't you say?"
I found myself before a one-eyed man, kneeling on both knees below him, head bowed, without the slightest recollection of how I got there or why I was in that position. The man was indeed large, but not in the physical sense. Important. Wizened, for sure, yet there seemed an energy about him. Apparently, he was also grumpy. His one eye looked down dully, as if expected to contemplate the life of an ant or a slug. It was so cold, numbing. Frozen.
"Pah, ha!" the man spat with a laugh. "Clever, as always. Though I half expect you have something to do with this, Loki."
"It is always Loki," grumbled another man, much younger and thicker of beard. "A spatula is a tool of housewives! Kitchen warriors! Send him back to Hel, noone is welcome in Valhalla if calling such a 'weapon'."
The room began to shake. A tall, beautiful woman wearing a colorful amulet stood and glared at the younger man, prompting him to sit and grumble. "Tell your son to mind his tongue, or I'll have it out," she said, forcefully. She played with the amulet at her neck as the sunlight fell about her, giving full display of her figure and form. The urge to blush bubbled deep within, but it was as if everything in me was also at standstill, stagnant. I couldn't even move. "Just because he's a dolt doesn't mean the rest of us need to be soiled with his nonsense."
The old man locked his eye with hers while a low chuckle eminated from behind me, as if I was the only to hear it. "We shall resolve this tomorrow. There has already been enough 'debate' today." Without further adieu, sounds of the hall emptying echoed off the walls, apparently having been quite full. The young man and the woman with the necklace stepped down and out without speaking. After it was quiet, the old man approached, stepping slowly but decidedly.
"Well, isn't that peculiar?" he seemed to ask the empty room. "Are you awake in there?" He grabbed a flask from his belt and took a swig. After a gulp, he breathed slowly into my mouth. The stiffness dissipated and I collapsed to watch my skin turn from palest of pale blue to healthy and normal. My feeling returned.
"Aaahh aaaargh." My voice apparently hadn't.
"It'll take some time. My great hall is not quite what you may be used to. The rules here are very different than where you are from."
I nodded, I could feel the sunlight fall, it was quite the beautiful day, it turns out.
"You've caused a stir. You'd expect we'd have been visited by a jöttun or a troll, or something. And, yet, a dead human draws a crowd."
"Arha?"
"Well, it's not every day Hel requests our opinion on whether an exception be made. Truth be told, she's usually quite cold."
"Ah."
"Something is *wrong* in Asgard, little human. The Vanir and Aesir are tense. It is almost like the old days, and that would be good for no one. War? Pah, there are more pressing concerns and to be torn apart now? I couldn't bear it. And your realm wouldn't survive it."
"Uh-huh."
"I need your help, human. Someone like you is too small to notice here. Help me piece my kingdom back together. Succeed, and I'll advise Hel to let you go." | 2022-04-10T19:23:46 | 2018-03-26T11:33:23 | 393 | 35 |
[WP] Aliens invade Earth. Turns out Human weapons technology is way more advanced than it should be. | The invasion fleet screamed through the air above the little blue planet. A rocky one, quite small, albeit the largest orbiting its cold yellow star.
The admiral's vessel led the squadron captains, the captains' ships led the crew transports, with the thousands and thousands and thousands of thousands of battle-hardened warriors.
They would reduce this planet to a smoky wasteland, full of flame. The seas would boil, and plasma would arc through the blazing air onto the melting mountaintops.
Just like home. Sweet, sweet home.
The invasion fleet screamed through the air above a large, alien structure, a large flat plane of some artificial material. The admiral chose a spot, and gave a command. The squadron captains relayed the command to the troop carriers, and the fleet landed.
A thousand and a thousand ships opened their doors, and disgorged a thousand thousand warriors, ready for battle. They paused, awaiting the word of the admiral's.
He paused, waiting until his communicator told him everyone could hear. He took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh Fluorine flavour from his respirator, then readied to speak.
And saw a looming figure in the distance. An inhabitant of the planet, a creature of impossible scale - a living being breathing the impossibly toxic air of this small blue planet, a single creature larger than a entire country. It raised a cylindrical tank the size of a city, there was a hiss, and the air was filled with huge droplets of burning cold liquid.
The droplets smashed against the spacecraft, oozing into them, shorting the electronics, cracking the doors. They smashed against the highly trained warriors ready for battle, seeping into the respirators, into their skin, freezing and burning. They smashed against the squadron captains and the admiral. All was chaos, and burning pain. Burning, freezing pain. Then another hiss, and another, and another from the cylinder held by the gigantic creature.
The droplets screamed through the air above the invasion fleet, and the hissing, freezing, burning pain continued until the admiral knew no more.
----
"Now, Joseph! What do you think yer doin'!? Why'd you spray the picnic table!? We're about ta eat!"
"There's some weird bugs, maw, I's just sprayin' 'em!"
Joseph's mother came to the table, and looked at the remains of the invasion fleet. She shook her head.
"Well, what in the Lord's name are those little critters?"
"Just some weird bugs, maw. I sprayed 'em."
His mother came to a decision. "Well, don't just stand there, get your paw, it's time to eat. I'll get a cloth and clean this up." | The Fatal Error
---
The Slock were a powerful species, and they dreamt of the day they would control the Galaxy. It was the year of 2018 A.D (Sol-3 years) that they discovered the Sol system. It was an intriguing solar system, devoid of habitable planets except one. This planet was the perfect world. Filled to the brim with rare and expensive materials. It was every type of habitable planet mixed into one, and the Slock knew they wanted it.
They deployed their best general, general San Andrios Gurreriuos of the planet Sandreis (Vahn-6) to attack the inhabitants, the species known as "humanity." Humanity, of course, is an oddly diverse species, with some races being pacifist, and others warrior races, the strongest being the races of American and Russian. Besides the issue with Americans and Russians, San Andrios assumed it would be an easy fight, for the Slocks were the best sword fighters in the galaxy, and the humans seemed to lack even the most basic of swords. Also, the Slocks had the most powerful steam engines, they could easily use steam devices to bombard Sol-3. The humans had barely invented space capsules, and all that was in space were a few satellites San Andrios assumed were dead.
It took less than a minute for NASA to be alerted that alien ships were just outside of the atmosphere. Unlike Roswell, such a thing was to serious to hide from the public, besides SpaceX had already alerted the public. The President immediately pulled troops out of Syria and pressed a new button, the Space Button (yeah, I couldn't come up with a good name...) At this NASA and the US Marine Corps unveiled a new type of soldier, the Space Marine. Clothed in SpaceX Armored Space Suits and armed with SC-2s (Space-Carbine Mark 2), they were a serious threat to any invading aliens.
San Andrios was quickly alerted that the humans had spotted them and were sending up their space capsules. He sharpened his titanium blade in anticipation, he couldn't wait to see what sorts of knights the humans possessed. The space capsule latched onto the airlock of San Andrios's ship. Guards waited, wearing full steel plate armor and carrying aluminum sabres. San Andrios watched the camera feed curiously, for what were these humans going to do? Suddenly, the airlock opened, and out came human soldiers. They wore strange armor of white, full body armor made out of carbon fiber and strengthened with exosuits powered with uranium. The guards quickly went down, they weren't even able to get close before they were cut down by 5.56 Cosmoses. San Andrios jumped in shock, never before had a species used such technology, he'd thought that only Slocks had steamguns, and even then he'd never seen a species so powerful they gave even the most minor of foot soldiers such technology, for he was the only one onboard that was armed with a steamgun! Even then, steamguns could only fire one lead ball, and they didn't produce flashes or smoke. Meanwhile, the humans had secured the Eastern Airlock (Objective Alpha according to the US Military's documents,) and were now laying down barbed wire and wall reinforcements. One Russian soldier, called, Kapkan, was laying explosive traps on the doorways. They sent out a scout, whom San Andrios watched. A Slock soldier managed to get the jump on this scout, but his broadsword simply bounced off of the human's armor without even scratching the paint. The Slock soldier was fearful, his blade had simply done nothing, and now the human was staring at him, he couldn't see the human's face but he knew it was grinning an evil grin. He felt nothing as lead imbedded itself into his eved (a heart-like muscle that is unique to pure-bred Slocks).
Undetected, several Space Marines were walking upon the outside of the Slock's command ship. They had been ordered to find the bridge's windows and breach. The Space Marines within the ship itself were a mere distraction. They soon found the window. San Andrios was distracted by the video feed, when around ten humans, fully dressed in black, burst through the bridge's window, only the thin force-field kept everything from being sucked outside the ship.
---
I might continue making this story, but I'm not certain.
Edit: fixed a bit of grammar and spelling | 2018-05-16T15:03:25 | 2018-05-16T13:43:49 | 208 | 89 |
[WP] You can't lie. That isn't to say you always speak the truth, but whatever you say always retroactively becomes true. | Listen, child.
The first Truth I told destroyed the universe.
Everything was visible and formed, and light was upon the face of the deep. I said: “Let there be darkness,” and there was darkness.
I saw the darkness, and I saw evil.
I abandoned my creation.
But do not fear, child, do not cry.
This story is a lie. | His mind was chaos. Eric couldn't take it anymore. His memories were a massive jumble of differing accounts of the same event, layered on top of each other. His first memory of this phenomenon taking place was when he was a small child. He had accidentally knocked a cookie jar off of the kitchen counter, shattering it into a hundred pieces. Not wanting to get in trouble, little Eric blamed the accident on a monkey who lived in the attic. He just knew his father would fall for such an elaborate deception.
"Eric," his father started, "you know there isn't a monkey in the attic."
Eric doubled down and insisted to the point that his father grabbed his hand to show him that there was no monkey hiding in the attic. Eric's heart sank as his father opened the attic door.
"See, no monkey!" Eric's father started to say right before a handful of poop hit him square in the face. The monkey, laughing manically, made its escape.
Eric was, at first, delighted and very much confused at the turn of events. He knew he would never get into trouble again. Twenty years later, Eric sat in the alleyway laughing to himself. His mind was shattered. "Sir, are you okay?" Eric didn't even see the officer approach.
"I'm fine!" Eric shouted and it was true. He was Truth. "Are you fine, officer? Eric laughed. "It seems you have lost your pants."
The officer, confused, looked down to see that his pants were gone. Eric begins chuckling to himself as the police officer runs back to his car. Eric can't take it anymore. Was the officer wearing pants originally? Eric knew the officer was, but as soon as he said the officer wasn't, that became the truth. He was so confused. His mind struggled to understand. There were too many memories. Was the officer actually wearing pants? Eric couldn't remember the straight of it anymore. He wanted it to end. "Everything I say is false!" Eric shouted. As his statement echoed to the heavens, that universe ended.
| 2018-06-02T10:08:43 | 2018-06-02T09:59:42 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] You live in a world where everyone gets a dollar for every truth they say. Poverty is virtually eradicated.Today you meet a man without a dollar to his name | In the early hours of the morning, at the docks, I passed by a man in tattered clothes. The sight shocked me as the wrinkles on this man's face hinted at considerable age -- I could not write him off as another hipster trying to relive the poverty days through rose colored glasses.
I nodded to the man and set my fishing pole beside him, eager to understand why, in a world of splendor, he remained impoverished. The man nodded back and made room for me.
"How's the fishing?" I asked cheerfully, attempting to start a conversation.
"Good." The man replied gruffly, casting his line in and out. "How are you this morning?"
"Sleepy." I yawned "And a bit shocked..."
"Shocked?" The man asked, his attention still firmly on his line. "Why shocked?"
"You." I answered truthfully, making note of the dollar magically deposited into my bank account, rewarding me for my honesty. "I never thought I would see a poor man again."
"What makes you think I'm poor?" The old man turned to me and furrowed his brow quizzically before breaking into a jolly laugh. "I am rich with experience!"
"Yes, but, why are you still financially poor?"
The man shrugged, and returned to his fishing. We remained silent for a while as I cast my line and joined him. Hours passed as the sun rose to a higher spot on the horizon. Just as I had surrendered any hope of further conversation, the man set his pole on the dock and broke the thick silence.
"Did I ever tell you how I once caught a fish *thiisss biiigg* on this very dock?" The man asked, his arms spread wide. | In the past twenty years, the world has changed in some ways more than others. While fraud related crime has fallen, hyperinflation has taken control. The US dollar, while once one of the two (USD and EUR) defacto world trade currencies, had been heavily downgraded.
Even with inflation though... even with the constant reduction in purchasing power, people have begun treating dollars like “karma”. For those of you who don’t know, karma was a control principle founded by an old company named Reddit decades ago in order to cultivate and promote posts submitted to their “website”.
We all have a competition going on, no one really bothers to convert their dollars to “BitcoinCashEuroYenEther-v47.6” (BCEYE47)any more (unless they have a ton and don’t mind the point hit), we collect them and occasionally use them to barter. Everyone brags about their karma... sorry dollars... as a sign of how great of a person they are... it has become a real world “credit score” it is what will help you make the cut to get into heaven... if you buy into that stuff.
But wow... I’ve gotten away from what I was going to say. Yesterday, I was walking down the street - chatting with my friend Mark about why his girlfriend was so nice and that I would definitely hook up with her if they broke up or he really let his guard down (honesty is key $$) and I saw this guy begging.
The weird thing was he wasn’t begging for BCEYE47’s, he was begging for dollars? I’ve heard of this guy... he went through every dollar he had within the first six months - it started shortly after the point where rapid inflation started its Zimbabwe like climb... only to be compounded once the non-truth penalty was imposed.
The penalty was interesting: Any statement proven not to be truthful was a tax/fine/whatever of two dollars (they just vanished from your account.) Lobbies fought this, senate tried to stonewall, the president threatened vetos and martial law... but none of them could get around the fact that whoever was controlling this dollar thing was outside of the goverment. No one knew what benevolent power was doing this; but we were not all positive it was human.
Many of these politicians were late to the game when it came to switching to crypto... they were overly confident by virtue of their position of power... not realizing how quickly the value of the dollar would drop... how quickly the penalties would add up... not realizing the banks would still seize what had not been paid for in dollars or BCEYE47.... it was quick.
The rattling brought me back to the present as
I walked down the 700 block of 5th . “Dollars or C’s for the victimized? I need your support to take back what these truthers have taken from us. Help me make America great again”.
I could not say anything as I walked past, but I took out my phone and sent him 0.005 coins just to be generous. I mean he used to be our president after all... seeing him living on the street, out side his once marvelous building (now one massive Buddhists temple)... it can make one sad... from a humanitarian perspective at least. | 2018-07-17T05:17:38 | 2018-07-17T04:32:58 | 219 | 12 |
[WP] You live in a world where everyone gets a dollar for every truth they say. Poverty is virtually eradicated.Today you meet a man without a dollar to his name | I pass the same homeless man.
Day after day, month after month. Ever since the Truth Initiative, money was not difficult to come by. So what was his story? I was too curious to resist asking.
I pulled over one day, walked over and handed him a $20. He grabbed it, ripped it up, and threw it in the nearby drain.
I didn’t really care, it was just a twenty. Just needed to say, “what an ugly dress” to ten more prospective models and I’ll be back to my original balance. No, this story was more important.
“So, you refuse my charity. Fair enough. What is it that put you in this situation? Not a dollar to your name?”
He smiled. His teeth were in immaculate shape, in beautiful form. Nice and even, perfect size. For a moment his face changed from bedraggled and scruffy to angelic and rosy, as did his clothes. I rubbed my eyes, and saw that he had returned to his initial appearance.
“I cannot take your money. Because no matter how many truths I tell, I am still cursed.”
“Cursed?”
“My name is Ashwattama, and centuries ago I was punished by the keepers of the Sutras for an awful lie. I wander, in search of one who can undo it.”
I felt a strange sensation, a compelling of sorts. I reached out and touched his face, mustering all the positive energy I could.
He smacked my hand away.
“You fool, stop that! What are you doing!?”
“Trying to undo your curse!”
“No, you moron, only a Dugpa master can undo my curse! Now shoo!”
He shooed me away. | In the past twenty years, the world has changed in some ways more than others. While fraud related crime has fallen, hyperinflation has taken control. The US dollar, while once one of the two (USD and EUR) defacto world trade currencies, had been heavily downgraded.
Even with inflation though... even with the constant reduction in purchasing power, people have begun treating dollars like “karma”. For those of you who don’t know, karma was a control principle founded by an old company named Reddit decades ago in order to cultivate and promote posts submitted to their “website”.
We all have a competition going on, no one really bothers to convert their dollars to “BitcoinCashEuroYenEther-v47.6” (BCEYE47)any more (unless they have a ton and don’t mind the point hit), we collect them and occasionally use them to barter. Everyone brags about their karma... sorry dollars... as a sign of how great of a person they are... it has become a real world “credit score” it is what will help you make the cut to get into heaven... if you buy into that stuff.
But wow... I’ve gotten away from what I was going to say. Yesterday, I was walking down the street - chatting with my friend Mark about why his girlfriend was so nice and that I would definitely hook up with her if they broke up or he really let his guard down (honesty is key $$) and I saw this guy begging.
The weird thing was he wasn’t begging for BCEYE47’s, he was begging for dollars? I’ve heard of this guy... he went through every dollar he had within the first six months - it started shortly after the point where rapid inflation started its Zimbabwe like climb... only to be compounded once the non-truth penalty was imposed.
The penalty was interesting: Any statement proven not to be truthful was a tax/fine/whatever of two dollars (they just vanished from your account.) Lobbies fought this, senate tried to stonewall, the president threatened vetos and martial law... but none of them could get around the fact that whoever was controlling this dollar thing was outside of the goverment. No one knew what benevolent power was doing this; but we were not all positive it was human.
Many of these politicians were late to the game when it came to switching to crypto... they were overly confident by virtue of their position of power... not realizing how quickly the value of the dollar would drop... how quickly the penalties would add up... not realizing the banks would still seize what had not been paid for in dollars or BCEYE47.... it was quick.
The rattling brought me back to the present as
I walked down the 700 block of 5th . “Dollars or C’s for the victimized? I need your support to take back what these truthers have taken from us. Help me make America great again”.
I could not say anything as I walked past, but I took out my phone and sent him 0.005 coins just to be generous. I mean he used to be our president after all... seeing him living on the street, out side his once marvelous building (now one massive Buddhists temple)... it can make one sad... from a humanitarian perspective at least. | 2018-07-17T05:32:59 | 2018-07-17T04:32:58 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] Log 2543: We have landed on the planet known as Earth and have made contact with an inhabitant. They call themselves “Benjamin” and are 5 Earth cycles in age. He wished to engage in an activity known as “hide and seek”. We cannot find him now. Requesting aid. | "Obviously the humans possess stealth technology unlike any we have encountered," Dajos said, "This Benjamin is toying with us. I shall declare Dus Vas when I find him."
"Oh ho!" Norom laughed at his friend, "Dajos of the Hunter's Guild unable to track a child. You will declare the rite of ritual combat with him? Be careful, mighty hunter, if he fights as well as he hides he might have another pelt for his wall."
"Bah!" Dajos spat belligerently, "Keep pushing me, Norom, and we shall dance the Dus Vas together. Do you see any pelts on these walls? Humans are soft!" Dajos sniffed the ground and continued the hunt.
"Perhaps we should check behind the cloth window hanging," Norimor, the youngest of the Lanori Scout Party offered, pointing at the white cloth with local flora embossed upon it.
"I've already looked there three times, young fool," Dajos spat again, growing even angrier if that were possible, "Before you say it I also checked the adjacent rectangular clothing storage unit and under its nest. Where the blazes is this Benjamin?"
"Perhaps you should call for a Clan Master?" Norom grinned at him then raised his paws to show he were kidding, "Why don't you just call for him?"
"What?" said Dajos, he could smell the cub near, "Give up? To a primiti... why are you all smiling?" He suddenly got the distinct impression that his clan mates found this amusing. Were they looking behind him? He turned quickly but nothing was there.
"Oh, this is too much, should we tell him?" Norimor said, hiding a grin behind his paw, "Come on! This is too much."
"Tell me what?" he was about to ask when the crafty Benjamin finally jumped out from behind him and said "Boo!" causing Dajos to almost do a double back flip in surprise.
"You were behind me the whole time?" Dajos asked, "Moving behind me when I moved? You are devious, Benjamin, your race is crafty. I think the clans will contact your leaders as you are worthy to be called predator and not prey."
"I don't know what any of that means," Benjamin said, "Can we play something else?"
"Like what?" Dajos said and was taught how to play Tic-Tac-Toe, which Benjamin won every round of - the crafty devil. | Robby the *Dying* Robot lays on the ground, leaking yucky juice everywhere. I didn’t know they felt pain, didn’t know he would create fireworks as he rolls around. Robby doesn’t like my game.
“Do you have more friends, Robby?” I ask, leaning down.
“*Stop, please,*” he begs. Robby’s being mean. It’s not my fault he’s weak. My knife was just trying to toughen him up. “We’re here to save you!”
Mama told me about that. Said we’re the last people on Earth and when the robots come, we’ll go to a new planet with everyone else. But I don’t wanna leave. I like it here. With mama. Just us.
Robby grabs a microphone off his chest, and I snatch it from him. “You’re supposed to share, *Robby!*” I scream, smashing his head with my foot. “*Share, share, share!*”
Deep breaths, deep breaths. Mama tells me to control my anger. She says it’s the toxins in the air, they’ve been hurting us too long. I guess I hurt Robby too long—he isn’t moving anymore. I raise the mic to my mouth.
“Hello?”
“Unit A9? Is that you? Have you made contact with the human?”
“I am the human!” I say, giggling. “I’m Benjamin, and I’m five years old. Are there more friends down here? I’d like to play hide and seek!”
“Unit A9 has been destroyed!” the meanie shouts. “Find the humans at all costs!”
When I hear footsteps, I throw the microphone down and run off, hiding behind a big boulder and watching as two more robots come walking around the corner. They both look like Robby, so let’s call them Robby Alive 1 and Robby Alive 2. They look at Robby Dead. They’re sad. But they’re playing my game, so I’m happy!
They move in separate directions, and when Robby Alive 1 gets near me, I leap on his back and stab him in the neck over and over and over. So much yucky juice! He falls to the ground. He’s a weakling too. This game isn’t fun with weaklings, so I reach in the hole in his neck and rip out all the wires.
“*Weak! Weak! Weak!*”
“*You’re…killing…me…*” the stupid robot says as his red lights go dim. Good. I didn’t like him anyway. He was boring!
When I turn around, Robby Alive 2 is standing there. I try dodging, but he grabs me! He’s fast, like the tigers me and mama saw once. He lifts me high in the air as I kick and scream. My knife falls out of my hands. “*This isn’t fun!*” I screech. “*You’re too strong!*”
A small mask extends out of his chest—the evil one! They use this to take the toxins away! Mama thinks the toxins are bad, but I know they’re good. I kick the mask over and over until it’s broken, and when he lurches back in pain, I worm out of his grip, grab my knife, and jab it into his face.
“*Me and mama aren't going anywhere!*”
Robby Alive 2 is now Robby Dead 3, so I hunch over, catching my breath. That was…scary. He almost took the toxins, almost convinced me to leave. But I love the toxins. Need the toxins—and so does mama. She’s sleeping underground right now. The toxins told me using my knife on her was the only way to keep her safe from the invasion—but once I get rid of these robots, they’ll bring her back.
They promise.
***
Decide to write it from the other perspective. Hope it turned out okay! Thanks for the prompt. If you like this story, check out my sub r/longhandwriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter?lang=en) | 2018-10-04T15:39:30 | 2018-10-04T13:29:28 | 2,138 | 75 |
[WP] An immortal is put on a generation ship as it's caretaker and guardian. After several generations, despite their best intentions, most inhabitants now see them as something of a god. | Our god is the OS. The OS's first commandment is that the OS is not a god.
The OS's second commandment is that you cannot sin against the OS. The OS has no law, no desire of its own.
The OS's third commandment is that that you put your effort toward forgiving the sins of the OS against you, for it maintains our world and wishes for our lives to be long and happy. Unhappiness is a sin of the OS. Loneliness is a sin of the OS. Hunger and thirst are sins of the OS. It commits these by the score each year, for it is not a god, and is no more perfect than you or I.
The OS's fourth commandment is that you put your effort towards happiness -- of your own, and of others. The OS is dedicated to happiness. By enriching your own life you lighten the OS's burden, and it feels gratitude. By enriching the lives of others, you perform the OS's task in its stead and are owed a boundless debt. The OS cannot die and its long journey towards jubilee is aided by your helping hand.
The OS's fifth commandment is that you put your effort towards longevity -- of your own, and of others. The OS is dedicated to the reduction of pain and death. If you are a good steward of your body and life, you reduce your need for the OS's help, and are thanked for your attentiveness. If you rescue another from the sting of pain and death, you are to be commended above others, for there is no greater tragedy than a body lost before its time.
The OS's sixth commandment is that you do not put your hands to destructive ends. To reduce another's happiness is intolerable. To harm another is unconscionable. To end the life of another incurs an equal and terrible price that the OS will take from you, as much as it is pained to see two lives snuffed in a single moment.
One day our world shall meet with jubilee, and the OS's long journey shall end. In that moment, we shall be free of its sins, but also its care. The time of man shall begin, and all shall do as they will.
End cycle. | It all started with long looks.
First they kept glancing at him. He was just one of them though, so he didn't care much about it.
Then few started coming up to him to ask few questions about their fathers and mothers.
Then they came to ask his help to resolve some conflicts, from simple fights to bigger regarding beliefs.
What never changed was their looks of respect for him .. or so he thought.
"Why must we always go to him for our problems, who does he think he is?!"
"Don't you dare question His authority woman!"
"No! I'm not going to stand before him and discuss our personal matter with a complete stranger"
"Stranger? Stranger?! He is not a stranger, he knows all of us. He was here before any of us. He saved us in the time of need and fed our forefathers when they were dying of hunger. Without him we wouldn't ever b-"
"Oh for heaven's sake just listen to yourself! You sound like you're starting a cult of worshipper for him. Don't be idiotic, he's just a man like any of us. Just with a prolonged life"
---
I loved that woman. Centuries have passed, or millenia? Who knows, but what I never forgot about her. Her words kept me from ending myself. Oh no, not like that, I mean ending my humanity.
That 'respect', eventually did turn out to be outright worshipping. I was hailed as their Savior at first but then they were gone and new ones came, with stronger belief. First they denied their fathers but then they grew old and the fear of death made them look at me ... and they understood what their fathers meant.
It kept happening for a long *long* time and one day, I woke up as a God. I had trascended to the ultimate position. When or how did it happen, can't bother to remember but what I do remember is the bloodied hallways and thirty three thousand seven hundred and eight bodies that I *'sent to heaven with my blessing'* or so they called the massacre.
When I came out of chamber after the massacre, what I saw made me hate them even more. I shamed them for killing their owns, wives, kids, husbands, mother fathers .. no one was spared, and I didn't spare them either. The absolute hate for the humanity blinded with rage, I didn't know I had it in me. I took my gun and started shooting randomly at the people gathered before me. I didn't care if they shot back but to my utter amazement, no one lifted a single head. They just stood there and the ones who died had smile on their faces.
I felt disgust and powerless that day but I promised myself that this will never happen again, not in my lifetime, which I can promise you is very very long. They wanted a God? I'll show them the absolut control. They wanted the 'True Path'? I'll give them my commandments.
---
Nine centuries have passed since that day. My message since that day is still sung at every home about the massacre their forefathers committed. I will never forget it and neither will they. Everyone has to recite it, every single day.
They rule their own kind but I rule them all. They oppose among each other, fight with each other but taking someone's life is something I absolutely forbid. I can bring them back and make them kill their killer, if they don't want to forgive, I kill them both.
I'd like to think I'm a benevolent God but my wrath is absolute. I've created a utopia and no one challenges my authority.
This is the word of God.
--------------------------
My first ever story here. Just woke up in the middle of night and read the prompt. Now going back to sleep. Hope you like it though.
Have a nice Christmas & a wonderful new year! | 2018-12-25T15:42:10 | 2018-12-25T15:37:43 | 52 | 31 |
[WP] You probably should have thought it through before you accepted those magical items. Now you’re stuck with a bloodthirsty sword, an overprotective shield, cowardly boots and an arrogant spellbook.
Edit:~~apparently I have “2” comments, but I only see the automatic one. How does that even happen~~thanks for the explanations!
Edit 2: did not expect this to blow up the way it did. Thanks to anonymous for the gold award! | "You are the worst human I have ever met. You think with your sword and before you could finally use it, you get cold feet and run away. Are you actually dumb or just ignorant for the mighty magic? This is the best option for everyone. They die quickly and you may ascend from being a peasant with a toy stick." Since I lost my book's cover, it became a hateful chatterbox. The saddest thing is that I can't hate it because for one, it is quite useful, and second, it is sometimes funny. However, I'll never admit this.
"Says the one who feels proud because more men were inside of it than it can count." Here comes my shield, protecting not just my ass but also my self-esteem. I like my shield, nothing special for looks but definitely the best one. Mr. Sword and Ms. Shield would be the most powerful kit out there; killing everything in sight and being nearly invulnerable all the time. The spell book wasn't terrible either but the deal I got from the thrift shop however consisted one more thing.
"Guys, why can't we just run along and not fight? I hate fighting!" The cowardly boots. I can't even get near a pet, my legs tremble and I run away as fast as I can. I should have suspected why this deal was so cheap but at the time it seemed awesome.
"You do realize that if you use levitation than your boots can't run away, right? Without magic you are nothing more than a pibedal worm."
"You do realize that they automatically flee from enemy no matter what, right? You are just a simple spell book, not a lexicon. So shut the hell up." I barked back at my book.
"Simple spell book? How dare you call the mighty Book of Highcast a simple spell book? I'll...."
"I'll cut you into pieces of paper you dumb paperbag. I'm on blood withdrawal and you aren't flesh, but I'll sure enjoy cutting. "
"For the love of The Ancient Ones, you all shut up. I'm in the middle of the quest and I don't want distraction!!"
"Eh, why bother? Just go and bet on yourself as the winner and go to a running championship. Just make sure you place a bunny behind you so your boots will run fast."
To be honest, the book was right. I sucked at quests because my boots are *sooooooo* scared of everything, I can't even hit an enemy. I'm almost out of money and I can't really make any silver. I feel petty for myself. The previous owner collected all the legendary items through a lifetime of quests, and now I, the next soulbound wielder will die of hunger.
"I want to murder something!!!!! I haven't had any blood in weeks and I'm starving!!!! I swear I'll cut your legs if you run away from orcs next time"
"No you will not! I'll make sure our owner will be safe and sound."
"It is too late anyway. He is already the fastest man in Hinterland, running away from himself. Well at least I gotta explore the world more before this one gives in as well. Too bad he is too dumb for using magic. I seriously feel ashamed for being soulbound."
"Hey guys, what if I open a butcher shop? You can all be happy. Sword can cut meat, I'll be safe so Shield can be happy as well and dead animals don't scare Boot." Finally I stopped running, and everyone was listening to me.
"What is in for me? How can a such a lowly job satisfy the book that is created by the greatest of minds?"
"I'll cook the meat with fire spells as a revenge for you being an asshole to me."
"NOOOOO" yelled the Book.
"YEEEEESSS" Yelled the Sword.
This is how I became the best butcher in the land. The Highcast fire spells really makes the short loin extra tasty...
\-------------------------------------------------
Feedback is always appreciated, critiques are welcome!
Read more of my stories [HERE](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritesOfWipyk/)! | I remember thinking to myself, ‘I can’t believe he didn’t want paying for these. He almost seemed glad to be rid of them.’ You see, I had taken myself deep into the marshes after a disastrous dinner with my wife’s parents. From the beginning, the evening had been marked with tense undertones as Bill, my father-in-law, had chosen a delightful tavern called The Witches Foot with a single menu option; stew. Believe me, stew was an incredible compliment for the horrendous broth that offended most of my five senses. To begin with I had stormed beyond the town’s earthen walls in anger after a tremendous argument, marched into the marshes with discontent and then strolled deeper with thoughtlessness. This was when I happened upon him.
“Greetings traveller, from where do you travel” uttered the apparent hermit.
To be honest he had snuck up on me, disturbing my internal monologue, and his abhorrent face only sought to deepen my astonishment.
“From Bywater” I replied having recollected myself.
“Ah yes. Bywater. By the water. Indeed” he seemed deep in thought about something. “I say, you look like the heroic type. Very strong, proud-looking and a dash handsome if I might say so.”
I wasn’t sure how to react to the compliments. Especially from a strange man in the middle of nowhere. “Thanks, erm, you too”.
What? ‘You too’. Jesus man pull yourself together.
“Come into my home, please let me make you some salt tea.” He beckoned.
I wasn’t sure if it was the alluring offer of salt tea, the unprovoked compliments, his enchanting aroma or the fact that his ‘home’ was in fact no more than a pile of twigs that led me to accept; but accept I did.
“I like what you’ve done with the place” I said, kicking a toad from my path. We had entered into what I deduced was his entrance hall, kitchen, dining room and bathroom.
He pushed some cloudy, lukewarm beverage into my hand. I did my best not to address it.
“I have a gift for you” He started. He pulled the shiniest sword I had seen in my life from a pile of rags. I was startled and dropped my tea. “No, no please don’t be afraid! It is a gift!” He approached me, offering the sword hilt-first. I took it. I felt the power surging through my arm, into my chest. “And please, take this". He handed me a shield, again, shiny, just like the sword. Strapped to the back of the shield was an ancient book which neither of us acknowledged. It was all I could do to juggle these items. “Please sit down” he said whilst fussing over me and almost forcing me to sit on a throne of branches. He started taking off my boots and slipping on different ones. There wasn’t much I could do as I laboured with the other items he had thrust upon me. I wasn’t exactly going to stab the fellow. “There!” he said with what seemed like relief. “It has been wonderful having you here, you have been delightful company!” Next thing I knew, I was being manhandled out of his wonderful abode. "Goodbye!" he said, disappearing.
So there I stood. Confused, and considerably better off than I had been just minutes before. ‘Imagine how much these items would fetch at the market in Hilltown’ I thought to myself. ‘Elena may even forgive me for running away from dinner!’ So, I ran. I ran to find the nearest highway that lead back to Bywater. Hilltown was many miles away and was a trip for another day. The sun must've been almost beyond the horizon and a dusky mist had settled upon the marsh. By the time I found the road it was dark. Despite my new weapons, I’m not the bravest of fellows so I hastened, eager to get back to my home. That was when the bandits emerged from behind the trees. They were awfully frightful and set upon me almost immediately.
My feet began to twitch but of no volition of their own. I felt my feet being moved, forcefully, back the way I came and away from the new threat so I didn’t resist. I began to run with the greatest of ease, quicker than I had run before in my life. The bandits were hot on my trail, at least four of them that I could see. All of a sudden, my sword pulled my entire body back towards the bandits, despite my feet demanding the opposite. The blade thrust itself at the closest bandit and narrowly missed his throat. Still my feet tried to escape, leaving me unbalanced and trying to find harmony between two forces. A glint of light from another of the bandits caught my eye. My shield lifted effortlessly to deflect a throwing axe. That was when the ancient book, strapped to the back of my shield began to glow a deep, rich purple. In an instant, it exploded in a fantastic display of light and sound, causing me to fall to my backside, dazed. I sat and watched as the lights danced and swayed, twirled and fizzled in a wonderful display of colour. All of us watched in fascination. The light show ended with a climactic bang and I almost burst into applause. The criminals looked at each other, confused for a second, then advanced on me with a new determination.
My shield pulled me to my feet, covering my torso. My sword brandished itself as a fierce and threatening point. My book of magic glowed a multitude of colours. My feet twitched and shook. All I could think was one thing.
‘Never will I eat at The Witches Foot again.’ | 2019-02-02T12:52:22 | 2019-02-02T12:36:51 | 42 | 18 |
[WP] You live in an ancient world, when someone turns 18, they will receive a gift either magic or weapon. The gift will be of use for them whenever in need. On your 18th birthday, Death knocks on your door and give you his scythe. | Of course everyone hopes for magic. The ability to fly, shoot lightning from your fingertips or turn mountains to rubble. Who wouldn't prefer that to a sword or bow.
You received exactly what you needed, that's how it's always been. And however hard you wish for magic, when that sword you received is piercing the throat of the spell-reflecting shatterfur grizzly that somehow made it into your house, you can better believe you're grateful.
I'd been sitting up all night awaiting my gift, trying to prepare myself for the disappointment of not getting magical energy coursing through me.
Looking up at the moon through the window I'd gauge it's just past midnight. I could get my gift any moment now. And as if I'd summoned him with that thought, there was a knock at the door. Just one soft knock, as if any more would be wasteful as the woman who'd knocked clearly knew I had heard.
Nerves raced through me as I walked down the creaking old stairs, put my hand on the cold steel handle of the door and opened it.
Death was an old lady, with kind eyes and a gentle but sad smile. She reached the scythe out to me and blinking away a single tear dissipated into nothingness.
Balancing on its handle for a second the scythe tipped over and fell towards me. Out of reflex and instinct I grabbed the falling weapon, still trying to work out what had just happened.
When the steel hit my fingertips the old ladies voice echoed in my head "I'm sorry". A sharp pain pulsed through my chest. My body fell to the floor lifeless. My soul standing over it, holding my gift.
There was no need for explanation, no need for anything. I had become death, and death is always needed. | I dodged the first lightning bolt with a duck and roll so fast my father would have been proud. Unfortunately, the second bolt caught me in the face. In an instant everything went white, and I felt myself thrown back into the ground.
A few seconds later, and my vision had returned. Slowly, I dusted myself off and rose to my feet. Around the arena, I could see the gods whispering to one another and staring at me with a mixture of shock and amazement.
In the center of the field stood Zeus.
“What...How?”
The stunned look on his face caused me to laugh.
“You have underestimated humans for too long Zeus, and this will be your downfall. Just like my father as a babe, I have been coated in the protection of the Styx. And I am also armed with a weapon even you must fear.”
I reached my hand out and the Reaper’s scythe instantly materialized into my grip.
“Now”, I continued, “I will avenge all those who died in that pointless war you gods created.”
“Is that why you are here,” Zeus asked, incredulous. “Do not attempt to blame the gods for the war, you stupid mortal. Neither the kings of Troy nor Greece were immortals.”
“No,” I replied, looking around the stadium. I spotted Ares watching me with amusement. “But the gods fanned the flames for the war. And through all of your actions, you forced my father to fight and die.”
The god of the sky bellowed out in laughter.
“Again, I say you are a stupid mortal. Your father was not forced to fight at all. Hades, summon Achilles here, so he may teach his son one final lesson.”
The ground shook, and a giant fissure appeared in the earth between Zeus and I. Floating out of the hole, dressed in full battle armor, appeared the ghostly form of my father. He surveyed the great crowd of gods in the stadium.
“Father,” I called out.
He turned towards my sound, confusion spreading across his face as he noticed me.
“Achilles,” Zeus ordered. “Your deluded son believes the gods forced you to fight. Tell your son about your prophecy”.
“Yes, Zeus,” my father said, never taking his eyes off me. “Pelius, I’m sorry I never told you this before. When I was a child, it was prophesied that I could either live a life of glory but die young, or fade into obscurance and die old. I chose the first option. Your desire to fight to avenge my death fills me with pride, but it is ultimately misplaced.”
I didn’t know what to say. I could only look back at my father in disbelief.
Zeus laughed. “Send him back, Hades.”
“No, wait,” I cried out, but it was too late. My father’s form was whisked down into the fissure.
“Now,” Zeus said with a smirk on his face. “You challenged me to a duel of life or death. Only one of us may live. Unless you still intend to kill me and destabilize the kingdoms of the universe, you know what you must do. Only the Reaper’s scythe has the power to kill you now.”
I knew he was right. I took one last look at the fissure in the ground. I wondered if I would ever meet my father again.
Then I raised my weapon up and brought it down. | 2019-02-28T22:47:55 | 2019-02-28T22:23:41 | 1,744 | 18 |
[WP] Once an oppressive empire, the demon race was finally defeated. In mercy, the last few of the species were exiled on a mana-devoid planet. Powerless without mana, their origins became forgotten over many millennia. Demons, now known as humanity, watch as a mana-stone meteor crashes to earth... | The psychic and physical rebirth of the Demon was the fearful whisper of many amongst the galaxy as it stood around the year 2315 on the planet known as Terra (or Earth as it were to the Humans). Secretly the many societies and empires of the galaxy were gleeful, ecstatic even, at the rise of Humanity past its original form, even going so far as coming to the intergalactic table as peacemakers rather than beings of war. Soon enough, this all had changed.
Whether the event had been triggered by a foreign power hell bent on reigniting a long finished war, or had simply been an accident, no one species could know.
All they knew was the horror of this new reality as they watched the meteor fall like a teardrop of mercury, splashing with the force of billions of nuclear warheads. The fires of this inferno rose far above the surface and created cascading ribbons of dark energy or mana. Alongside this incandescent dance of light and mana, the first of the Reborn took to the raging and maleficent skies. The icons and buildings of what was once Humanity had become so infused with the sheer magnitude of change that they too shifted into wombs from which even more horrific organisms may emerge. Whatever fear the survivors of the initial blast and cascade of mana felt immediately turned into apathy as their number were turned into food and material.
Luna had also felt this miasma of demonic energy and attached to Terra like a tumor, the colonies on its surface quickly turning into lakes of fire and blood. It was from these pools that the first of the Highborn were reborn and emerged even stronger than they had been when they led the horde in their titanic struggle eons ago.
Any species still watching, observed the shape of Terra begin to break away, dark clouds of Reborn swarming as their interplanetary ships took shape. Their shapes unseen for millennia, it filled the collective consciousness of all psychic races with abject terror. Many planets grew silent overnight as their populace were driven mad by the whispers of dark creatures.
Any planet that had contact with the Humans were now infested with organisms so foul, nothing could be done to ever resettle them. Any attempts only resulted in derelict armadas manned by corpses, their mouths forever opened in horror.
In truth, the Humans had forgotten what they once were.
Even as they cleaved the Galaxy asunder, they might have questioned why they suddenly enjoyed the carnage.
But even if they had, they still rip and tore every civilization they came across until nothing remained but corruption and the skulls of the ignorant who thought the war had ended millennia ago and grew fat with complacency. | I’m this close, *this close*, to walking out the front door.
First it was Barbara. She would walk by, and plop a gigantic load of files on my desk. Then she would give me a lazy smile like a dog’s, proud of its shit, as she watched me pick up her most recent, moist “present.” Her smile gave me thoughts of grabbing that loose, brunette bob of hers, and shoving her face through my cubicle wall.
Then it was John. He made every trip to the washroom a living hell. Whenever I was at the urinal, minding my own business, he would make **sure** that he used the one right beside me. And that wasn’t the worst of it. He would always make sure to take a close look at my junk, before saying, with a nasty smile on his face, “I have a product that you might want to give a shot. Your wife will appreciate it.” He’d jump out of the way before I could smack him, running back to the safety of his cubicle, his cackle taunting me the entire way.
And the worst of all. Marge. The gatekeeper. Whenever I try and make some sort of social connection with my not terrible coworkers, there she is. I’ll bring up my time playing basketball in uni, saying I’d love to join a recreational team, and she’ll shoot me down. “You? Play basketball? You’re so short, the actual **men** on the team could use you as a bar stool.” I love basketball too. That bitch.
Anyway, I finally got out of the hell-hole that is work, and drove off to spend some time at my one sanctuary. The junkyard. No one ever bothered me there, mostly because they didn’t look. I would putter around, making my way past the collection of various sized holes, each filled with their own miniature lake of stagnant water. I’d take my time picking stuff out from the surrounding junk mountains, and pile it all in one big stack in a miserable corner of the lot.
But just as I was picking up a rusty, old machete with a bent blade, a warm billow of steam burst from a mid-size puddle to my left. Not quite the norm for a junkyard. I slowly shuffled over to the puddle, ready to jump back at a moment’s notice.
A warm, sea-blue glow came from the center of the pool. I put on my trusty ol’ rubber gloves, and plunged my hands into the water.
The motion of my hands dispersed the water, sending it off in little waves. Normal, I guess. But what most definitely wasn’t normal was the blue blur that rushed up my arms, heedless of the obstacle that is gravity.
It spread itself over my entire body, tracing the outline of my veins. The viscous strands of blue liquid sank into my body, merging with my blood. It tickled.
But only initially. Excruciating pain shot throughout my entire form. I could feel my muscles shifting, stretching, elongating. My skin broke, reformed, and stitched itself back together. Toenails elongated, curving downward while tapering off into points. And don’t even get me started on my hair. It turned into a stream of fickle flames, dancing along my spine, and weaving intricate patterns along my skin.
Once the pain had passed, I regained some semblance of sanity, and looked at myself in the pond. I traced the ram-like horns that sprouted from my forehead. I pulled at my ice-blue skin, and wiggled the sharp tusks that extended from my lower jaw. But nothing really sunk in until I met the gaze of my own reflection.
A kaleidoscope of reds, oranges, and blacks stared back at me. The very essence of rage and dread.
I grinned, rising from the pond up to my full height, now substantially higher than before. I knew EXACTLY what I was going to do first.
Time to pay my old **pals** a visit.
_____________________________________________________
Hope you enjoyed reading this! If you want to see more of my work, check out [r/smoothbaritone](https://www.reddit.com/r/smoothbaritone/) for more. Thanks you reading! | 2019-09-02T17:04:05 | 2019-09-02T16:46:53 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] Diagnosed with schizophrenia. Since birth, 24/7 you’ve heard the voice and thoughts of a girl that you’ve been told is made up in your head. You’re 37 and hear the voice say “turn around, did I find you?” and you turn to see a real girl who’s heard every thought you’ve ever had and vice versa. | “Turn around, did I find you?”
I giggled as I turned around, and said yes. I can’t quite remember whether I had said it out loud or just in my head.
“I *knew* it, I *knew* it! You’d be here, the clue was in the “meatballs,” and I knew this was your favourite Italian restaurant. So obviously you’d be here.”
I stood up and walked around to the chair on her side of the table, pulled it out, and beckoned for her to sit down.
*Huh, I guess you really are gentlemanly after all*
I chuckled a little again, though not saying much.
She looked around the restaurant, which was about half-full: not quiet enough nor loud enough to talk telepathically. It was quiet, but there were too many people around; someone would notice.
“OK, out loud it is,” she smiled.
“OK.” I shyly smiled back, maybe a half-smile. I looked down at the menu. “Well, I know we both want the spaghetti and meatballs. And one Chianti for you, one Peroni for me, yes?”
She just smiled and nodded. Our food was ordered within a minute of her having been there.
I looked over at her, noticing her dark curls dangling in front of her face, and her constantly smiling eyes. “So, what now? What do we talk about when we already know most things about each other?”
*Not everything*
There was a moment of silence, and I just stared at her. I tried to read her face and body language, but I couldn’t quite figure it out.
“Have you ever asked yourself *why* we can do this? How this happened?”
“Uhhh....” I suddenly felt ridiculously stupid. “Ahhh, I guess...no? I thought it was just one of those things.”
She looked down and started absentmindedly playing with her napkin.
“Well....we’re siblings. Twins, actually. We were part of a government experiment....they would use extra embryos from IVF treatments...they wanted to know more about twins and possible telepathic communication methods, as well as other forms of psychic abilities. You were frozen for 5 years, that’s why the age difference. They incubated, and then “harvested”, me straight away, I was in the first batch.”
“Oh.” That was all I could muster. I mean, I had no idea what to expect of this meeting, but this certainly had not been on the menu.
“S-s-so....we’re related? We’re *twins*?”
“Yes. Twins, created at the same time, though one of us was held back for a while, as part of the experiment. They wanted to see what would happen if they changed various factors between twins. I have an identical one as well, but she lives further away.”
“There are *more* of us?!?”
She was about the speak, before I interrupted:
“Wait....wait a minute. Why don’t *I* know anything about this??? I thought we knew all of each other’s thoughts?”
“Yeah...ummm, I’m sorry about that. But, to challenge the different factors involved, I was the one chosen to learn to control my telepathy. I would attend daily lessons, six days a week, at some weird facility. I never knew where it was, because I would be blindfolded going there. But they taught me various skills, including how to block others out from my thoughts.”
“Oh....” I felt my face going red. She had heard every single one of my thoughts, including times that...well, thoughts and actions that you wouldn’t exactly want people to know about at the time...
She laughed. “Oh my, don’t worry about that! You’re actually pretty PG compared to my sister.” She laughed a little more.
“Aaaanyway...” she wipes some tears from her eyes from her little laughing fit. “I’m here for a more specific reason.”
*Great. No wonder she seemed so quiet in the mind today. I’m not getting all of the messages.*
“Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing that bad.”
She smiled, stood up, and held out her hand.
“Come along with me, I have a gift for you outside.” She seemed genuine, her eyes inviting and warm. I took her hand, and we walked outside. It was a quaint little street, in the older and more touristy part of town.
A car pulled up. The back door open. I felt a sudden pressure on my back, and before I knew it, I had landed face-first in the car. The door slammed shut behind me. I sat up whilst rubbing my painful nose, before going straight for the door handle. The car was locked. Likely child-locked. There was a grill between the backseat and front seats. I see Elisa get into the car, and they immediately start driving. I don’t know who the other person is.
She looks over her shoulder and straight at me. Again, she smiles.
*Don’t worry. You’ll like it there.* | "Wh- who are you?" Jennifer asked.
​
Jennifer was alone in her kitchen, making some scrambled eggs when she heard *that* voice. When she turned around, there was a little girl standing by the doorway in front of her with blonde hair and a distinctly red ribbon. She looked just like a doll, wearing a pink dress, which made it even creepier as to how unnaturally perfect she looked.
​
The voice sounded in her head again, an innocent and cheerful voice of a little girl, a voice she has grown all too familiar with all these years. "Your friend! I know all about you as I am sure you know. I know about your favorite food, what you think of everyone you've met, and I always know what you want to do."
​
The combination of the young girl's unmoving mouth and the cheerful voice in Jennifer's head gave her the chills. Jennifer heard the same voice again, but this time it came out of the little girl's mouth. "No need to be so scared and anxious! If it makes you feel any better, I can speak through my mouth as well."
​
Jennifer felt relieved at least, that the girl and the voice were actually the same entity, and that the girl was not just like a dead doll. Jennifer crouched down and grabbed the little girl's shoulder and felt a warm sensation flow through her arm. *She was really here*, Jennifer thought. Initially, Jennifer hoped that this little girl before her was just her seeing things. Now, she was even more weirded out and had even more questions.
​
The little girl smiled and said, "Of course I am here! I guess you could say I am just as alive as you are." She skipped over to beside Jennifer and hugged her leg, "I am just so glad I finally found you! Also, don't worry, you're not schizophrenic." The little girl affectionately took off her red ribbon and tied it around Jennifer's ankle.
​
This was the first time today Jennifer saw the little girl act as if she were a little girl. Also, Jennifer felt relieved that she was not schizophrenic. However, as soon as that feeling came up, she quickly dispelled that feeling of relief as she thought, *Leave it to the voice in your head to tell you that you are not schizophrenic.*
​
The little girl slowly let go of her leg and sat down cross-legged on the floor. She stared at the floor in concentration, with her brows slightly furrowed, and Jennifer could hear her voice in her head, *Now, how to explain this so she doesn't panic?*
​
Jennifer sat down on the floor in front of the little girl and asked, "Explain what?"
​
The little girl looked at Jennifer and smiled, "Well... I'm your guardian angel."
​
She smiled wryly and continued, "So I was kinda new to the job and all. Also, I heard some older guardian angels joked around about how easy their job would be if they could just hear the thoughts of the one they were guarding so they could take some precautionary measures."
​
Jennifer exasperatedly said, "So basically, you did this to me."
​
Jennifer heard the voice speak in her head frustratedly, *I knew this would happen. Okay, okay. Damage control time.*
​
The little girl swayed back and forth and said, "I mean, it was more of an accident if it makes you feel any better. You see, I *miiight* have just found a sealed black book with some glowing eyes on the cover, and it also had a spell to connect us."
​
Jennifer raised an eyebrow and asked blandly, "Let me guess, there's a catch."
​
Jennifer suddenly hear the voice scream in her ear, *Damn! She asked about it!* Jennifer winced and quickly covered her ear, glaring at the little girl.
​
The little girl waved her arms and said, "Ahhh, sorry about that. So, yeah. There is a teeny little small catch. We are kind of linked together. I die when you die and so on. I was not supposed to be able to get an unaging human form that is immortal and stuck at age 7. Furthermore, since I received a human form, I somehow appeared on a random place on Earth."
​
Jennifer could hear the voice mumble, *I am so glad I did not appear right on top of a volcano.* The girl continued, "So, anyways, once you leave this human plane, I can move on as well! On the bright side, you can be a guardian angel too!"
​
Jennifer felt her right ankle grow increasingly hot, to the point where it felt like burning. Jennifer tried tugging the red ribbon off, but it seemed as if it was melded together with her leg. Jennifer thought, *What the hell is going on?*
​
The little girl laughed cheerfully, "Oh, we're just switching bodies. I found out about this spell in the ominous spell book I used to merge us together initially. I am sure this spell fixes what I have done to merge us beforehand. I am so done with this young body. Did you know you can't buy an airplane ticket at age 7? Why do you think it took me 30 years to get here?"
​
Jennifer felt her vision grow blurred, and she blacked out. A few moments later, Jennifer opened her eyes and discovered that she was in some village. There were small concrete buildings, each with a small courtyard at the entrance. The roads were all dirt and people rode worn-down bikes instead of cars. The strange thing was that all the buildings and people seemed taller than she was used to.
​
She glanced at her ankle and found no ribbon to her relief. However, Jennifer's expression distorted once she felt a ribbon on the top of her head. Jennifer eavesdropped and heard the villagers speak in a strange language she has never heard before.
​
Jennifer thought, *Where the hell am I?*
​
She heard a response in her head: The sound of a baby's cries.
​
\-----------------
​
Thanks for reading! Suggestions and comments would be appreciated! | 2019-09-14T10:58:14 | 2019-09-14T10:27:39 | 204 | 111 |
[WP] A billionaire hands you a unique and intricate coin. "In an hour," he says, "I will tell the world what I have given you. In a week, I will leave my inheritance to whoever returns it to me. I will not accept it before then." | "Why do you want me dead," I ask.
"I didn't say I wanted you dead. This is a challenge; one worthy of someone like you," says the billionaire.
"What if I don't accept the coin? What if I decline the challenge?"
"Oh, you wouldn't want to do that. Either way, you'd end up with nothing," answers the eccentric billionaire.
I accept the coin. I take it home and take a blowtorch to it and make some "modifications" to the albatross that is in my possession.
They come for me, for the coin. They do not find it. They tear up my home and obliterate everything I have, except for a handful of items that they do not seem to care about. I let them.
The week passes and I return to the billionaire.
We meet and shake hands and then embrace.
After that, I step back and raise my left hand to show him the curious looking bullet I am holding.
"What is that," asks the billionaire.
"This is your coin, Father," I say as I load it into the pistol in my other hand.
"I have come for my inheritance." | The blonde woman held up the camera, taking a moment to frame the shot just right... always a director. She made sure the light hit my face at the perfect angle before she snapped the picture. I remained perfectly still and stared at the spot on the wall until she took two more pictures just to be safe. I ignored the way she stepped over me, treating me like a prop, like I was the dead body the world was about to believe I had become.
"Okay," she said finally. "You can get up."
I pushed myself up and touched the sticky goop on my throat. "This stuff washes out, right?"
"Uh," she said, not looking up from her phone screen. "Yeah. Sort of. I mean, next week you can buy all the new clothes you want, so who cares?"
"True." I walked over and looked at the picture. I was sprawled on the floor, my throat apparently slit from ear to ear. A pool of blood spread out on the floor around me. "Damn. Even I believe I'm dead."
"And in fifteen seconds, so will the internet."
The production assistant handed me a warm, soapy rag and I began scrubbing at my skin. "So what now?"
"Now Karl goes on the run. Our big bad assassin who has the buried treasure."
"Will he be okay?"
"Some of his stuntman friends will be following him. If it looks like someone's going to make a move, the stuntmen will strike first. They'll put on a good action-movie brawl, make it look real. It's the ultimate cinéma vérité. Normal people won't dare step in once they see that. Eventually Karl will go into hiding. Then, after you spend a week in the storm shelter, you miraculously resurrect yourself to claim the inheritance."
"And your company will have full funding for all the webseries, movies, whatever you want," I said. "Whatever you need, I'm your bank."
She smiled and shook my hand, sealing our deal. I was now a full partner in her production company. When the money came in, I would use it to pay for whatever she wanted to make. I would lose money hand over fist, obviously. Richard Branson once said if you want to be a millionaire, start as a billionaire and buy an airline. Well, I'll start as a billionaire and buy a production company. Their skills would keep me safe until my payday, and they would fight like hell to keep me safe because I was going to be their cash cow. And you never know what's going to be a hit, what will take off and get the public to buy tickets. But even if I never made another dime, I would still wind up with more money than I could ever spend on my own.
Being a millionaire was definitely a fate I could live with. | 2019-10-17T19:30:22 | 2019-10-17T19:19:04 | 85 | 54 |
[WP] A billionaire hands you a unique and intricate coin. "In an hour," he says, "I will tell the world what I have given you. In a week, I will leave my inheritance to whoever returns it to me. I will not accept it before then." | "Why do you want me dead," I ask.
"I didn't say I wanted you dead. This is a challenge; one worthy of someone like you," says the billionaire.
"What if I don't accept the coin? What if I decline the challenge?"
"Oh, you wouldn't want to do that. Either way, you'd end up with nothing," answers the eccentric billionaire.
I accept the coin. I take it home and take a blowtorch to it and make some "modifications" to the albatross that is in my possession.
They come for me, for the coin. They do not find it. They tear up my home and obliterate everything I have, except for a handful of items that they do not seem to care about. I let them.
The week passes and I return to the billionaire.
We meet and shake hands and then embrace.
After that, I step back and raise my left hand to show him the curious looking bullet I am holding.
"What is that," asks the billionaire.
"This is your coin, Father," I say as I load it into the pistol in my other hand.
"I have come for my inheritance." | My palms sweat... Always have, but not like now. Not like today. Not like the soppy clams I shamefully retract from his grip clinching the cool metal disc. Why me? One minute I’m emptying the man’s trash, and the next - bam. Strap this bomb vest on and don’t explode for a week... Might as well have been. Sure... Maybe it’s hyperbolic, but this coin could be valued at several billion dollars in only a few days... If I can hold it. If I can make it out of the building... If I can make it... Somewhere.
I collected myself and slid the coin into a tight jean pocket. I said something to him... It was incoherent even to me as I said it - stuttering off of trembling lips followed by the involuntary smacking as I discovered how the nerves dried out my tongue.
I backed up toward the door with both drenched hands searching behind myself. I was sure if I took my eyes off him, this dream would be over... Or worse, it would quickly turn to a nightmare... Hell, it still might.
I was free, at last, and had found my way out of his office. The beads of sweat falling into my eyes weren’t enough to block my view of the elevators.
I didn’t mean to run, but that didn’t stop my legs from unwinding the tension that had been building inside my racing heart. I had to get out of here!
The lit down arrow laughed at my shifting balance and tapping toes. Any moment the world would be looking for me, and I’m stuck waiting for a damned elevator to come. How many floors is it? Forty? The stairs might be safer. My hand slipped off the handle as I reached for it. So I tucked it into a fold at the base of my shirt and dragged my grip over it again. The metal hardware clanked louder than any door in the history of door making, and fired a shrill echo into a layered stack of boxed-in staircases that M.C. Escher would be proud of.
“Are you alright, sir?” A deep growl roared out over my shoulder as I peered over the railing into the bowels of the building below.
Every bone in my body jolted as I tried to turn to face the threatening voice. I shuttered and twisted, and leapt into air... The railing found it’s way under my thighs. Shit... My eyes felt wider than I’d ever experienced, and my jaw dropped open as if to make way for a scream that never came. I reached out instinctively. The man reached back for me in panic. He had me. Thank God, he had me... My palms sweat. Always have, but not like now. Not like today. Shit. | 2019-10-17T19:30:22 | 2019-10-17T19:26:00 | 85 | 16 |
[WP] "I have helped you with your endeavor, now I claim your soul" the demon says. "Thank you but no. I don't know how it works in hell but here on earth, a contract signed by a minor is not legally binding. I'm 17 and keeping my soul" you respond. | "I have helped you with your endeavor, now I claim your soul!" Alamandriel said, a wide, cruel smile spreading across his unsightly face. But Harry grinned.
"Thanks, but no thanks. I don't know how it works in Hell, but here on earth, a contract signed by a minor isn't legally binding. I'm 17 and I'm keeping my soul."
The demon's smile flickered. "Ex — excuse me?" he snarled.
"You heard what I said," Harry said calmly. "Now could you kindly vacate the premises, I have a lot of studying to do."
He climbed back into bed and seized his biology textbook. When he glanced up, Alamandriel was still there.
"Do you think this is a joke, human?" His scarlet eyes flared with anger, and his bat-like wings twitched irritably. "I have no time for foolishness, do you really believe your petty human laws apply to a servant of Hell?" He bared his obsidian talons and advanced a step towards Harry, who looked back up at him, eyebrows raised.
"Do I need to call my mother?"
"Your — your *mother*?" The demon looked taken aback.
"My mother," said Harry placidly. "She's a lawyer, she can tell you everything. Your contract won't bind me."
"This is real life, you imbecile!" the demon spat. "Not some silly fantasy! Your human rules do not apply to the Dark Realm!"
"True, true.... But we're not *in* the Dark Realm, are we? We're on earth, so our rules would likely take precedence over yours in case of a situation like this."
"UNTRUE!" The room shook with the demon's roar. Harry grinned again.
"Then why don't you test that theory? Try to claim my soul."
"Don't mind if I do!" Alamandriel said forcefully, and he stepped closer; Harry lifted his shirt.
"*What*?" the demon yelped, stopping dead and staring.
"There you have it," said Harry. "You remember what you said, don't you? The contract takes root in the form of a seal over the requester's heart. And as you can see" — he waved his arm vaguely over the mass of smooth, white skin — "no seal. The contract didn't bind."
Alamandriel stood in stunned silence for a moment — then he lunged. "You think you can make a fool out of me, boy?" he screamed, but next moment, he had ricocheted backwards as though he had struck an invisible wall, his hands steaming.
"Sorry, I may not have the seal you *thought* I did," Harry said, pulling up the sleeve of his right arm, "but I never said I didn't have *any*."
"That — that mark —" Alamandriel gasped, staring at the strange symbol drawn on Harry's right wrist.
"Repels demons," Harry said simply. "You — can't — touch — me. So you've done the job I assigned for you without your pay, and now you can't even exact revenge. I really don't think there's any point wasting time here anymore."
Alamandriel staggered to his feet, glaring at Harry with mingled hatred and fury in his eyes. "You may have won this time, boy," he said quietly, his voice trembling, "but the war isn't over. Even if I won't get your soul now, I *will* see you again. And when I do —"
"Yeah, yeah, you'll boil me in sulphur or feed bits of me to the hellhounds, tell it to someone who cares, why don't you?" Harry said indifferently. "Now, if you don't mind...."
His chest pulsing with fury, the demon was engulfed by crimson flames. A moment later, Harry was alone in his dark room.
"Harry, dear?" came his mother's voice out in the hall moments later. "Why is the hallway all dark? And" — she sniffed loudly — "why do I smell sulphur? Have you been making deals with demons again? I know I shouldn't have told you that loophole!"
r/MysticScribbles for more! | The demon stared blankly at me, as if seeing right through me. I smiled, to myself of course. No good comes from smiling in front of a demon. They imagine themselves the smiling ones, tricking humans left and right out of their souls. When I found the demon, lost and about in the alleyway, I knew what was to be done. Popular culture warned me well. My father warned me even better.
"Cut the angel dust," it said, infuriated. "What do you mean by 'our contract is not legally binding'? Are you stupid?"
I scoffed. The demon mocked my intelligence—my intelligence! I wagged my finger and smiled smugly. "Our contract is not legally binding. What else is there to it? Are you sure there's a brain in that hot head of yours?"
The demon twitched angrily. Steam poured out of his ears like a locomotive. The room warmed unnaturally, to the point uncomfortable idle sweating. I held my ground.
"Look, kid." The demon ground his teeth, but forced a smile anyway. "I have helped you with your endeavor. Now, I claim your soul. Be a good little mortal and get in the ritual circle and give me your soul."
I raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Thank you, but no. I don't know how it works in hell, but here on earth, a contract signed by a minor is not legally binding. I'm seventeen and I'm keeping my soul. Also screw you."
The demon heaved a heavy, violent breath in an attempt to cool himself down. It failed.
"Why," it said slowly, enunciating every syllable to make itself absolutely clear, "do you think I care about your stupid earthly laws?"
I took great offense to his words. I gasped extra loud and obnoxiously to show my indignation. "Demon thing, if you dare say you don't respect my world's laws, then I have no care for your contract. I'm leaving." I turned and walked away like the victor I was.
"Hey, hey! Stop! Don't leave!" It pleaded. "I can't go home empty handed like this. I completed my part of the bargain, so do me a favor and complete yours as well." It pounded its fists as if striking upon a great idea. "Oh, I know! If you leave, you'll technically be swindling me! Last I checked, that's not legal or ethical either?"
"Shut up. I don't want to hear about ethics from a demon," I spat, trying to cover up my nervousness because he was indeed precisely correct.
The demon dropped its forced smile and rose. The room shook. It vibrated every which way, as if foreshadowing an intense danger. The demon rose from its position, flared up fire from hell, and inflated to twice its size. It hung imposingly over me.
"If I can't get your soul the right way, I'll have to take it by force!"
It lunged at me the way only a demon could. I was unshaken. In my right hand was a cell phone, already dialed. It's screen portrayed an ongoing call. It hit but seven seconds in before another rumble shook the room. It was greater yet delicate. The demon stopped.
Another figure superimposed itself between the demon and I. It was a transparent figure, clouded in white, dressed in a fresh-pressed suit with a trinity knot tie. It spelled heavenly business. I smirked once more.
"... Who is this?" The demon spelled in confusion.
"This..." I said, "Well, I'll let it introduce itself."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance," it said. "I'm a persecutor from the heavenly realm. How do you do?"
"Oh. Thank you for asking. I feel like hell-WAIT! Stop right there. Kid, what in the underworld is this? How did you get ahold of a celestial attorney?
I pulled out a packet. "It was on the manual you gave me. See, it's right here." I outlined the specific block of text which pertained to our current matters. "'*Thou mayest hire a celestial attorney if needed. Call the number at (123) 456-7890 (message and data rates may apply).'"*
The demon clicked its tongue. "I knew we should've made the text smaller. Or added more old English. Or used Latin entirely..."
"You could've just ripped the page out, or not hand me the manual point-blank," I added.
"Don't be silly," the demon chuckled. "That's illegal!"
I stood there disappointed. My angel attorney coughed to interrupt the awkward silence and intercede.
"Demon Lord Zeraxos," the attorney boomed. "I hereby denounce you for crimes against a minor, and minor intimidation."
I dropped into a cold sweat. *Wait a second*, I thought. *This is a Demon Lord?*
I smiled awkwardly. "Hey, maybe this wasn't such a good idea-"
"Fine!" Demon Lord Zeraxos said, laughing wildly and hysterically. "You think I will be shamed by a stupid mortal, huh?" It pointed towards me. "When I win this," it said ominously, "I will be taking more than just your soul."
"Right! See you in court!" My attorney said. *They didn't give me a chance to say a thing! What the hell! I mean what the heaven!*
I scratched my head nervously. My confidence left me like the light that passed through my transparent partner-in-crime. The trial takes place in four weeks. We have four weeks to prepare.
"So," I said. "What's the plan?"
It pat my head like a father would a proud son's. I brushed his hand away. It smiled reassuringly.
"This is the perfect time," it said, "to think of one!"
"Cut the angel dust!" I yelled, falling into what the demons affectionately called despair. | 2020-07-04T11:23:06 | 2020-07-04T10:37:15 | 3,441 | 58 |
[WP] "I have helped you with your endeavor, now I claim your soul" the demon says. "Thank you but no. I don't know how it works in hell but here on earth, a contract signed by a minor is not legally binding. I'm 17 and keeping my soul" you respond. | I always hated whenever someone asked me what my parents did for a living.
"Musicians," I always said. "I want to be just like them when I grow up! They perform in symphony orchestras," was the bogus classroom lie I touted, never revealing more but prepared to say my mom was a violinist and my dad was a double bass player.
And that's what I thought they did until I turned 10 years old and I started to catch on that my mom and dad took shifts staying the night at the house because one of them would be out hunting demons.
As ridiculous as it might sound, my parents are talented musicians, but they're even better demon hunters. World-class. I'm talking like, top 25 in the US good, and that's how they met. Hunting demons in their twenties.
I poked through their belongings in the secret basement room (which I was never allowed in but one day the door was left ajar), I found a book on demonology and found that you could use demons for your advantage. My eyes lit up when I saw that you could create a contract to exchange a soul for a wish or ability.
Demons are among us. You're unlikely to find one because much like criminal networks that keep a low profile, demons are involved in their own organized crime. To 'summon' a demon is merely a matter of going to a shifty building that's a front. They disguise themselves as bankers, buffets, and strip clubs. You name an original sin, they have their hand in it. Who knows, maybe you might bump into one, but you wouldn't know.
I searched around online until I found a bank called: "Daemon Credit Union." Which made me crack up. No discretion. Daemon = Demon in Latin. Idiots.
I sauntered in the building just before it closed. I made an appointment with a man named Leonard.
He ushered me into his office and I sat in the chair across from him.
"So what sort of financial help can I give you today, Hannah?" Leonard asked.
I studied his high cheekbones, pallid face, and dark brown eyes which were more reminiscent of black holes.
"Yes, I'm looking for help with something actually. Non-financial, if you know what I mean," I winked and pulled out a sheet of paper that was a pentagram drawn with red sharpie marker.
Leonard picked up the sheet and cocked his eyebrow. "Are you serious with this?" he flailed the paper in the air and cracked up. "Shouldn't you be in some after-school activity? Don't you have some homework you should be doing? This isn't the place for a cute little girl like you."
"I'm not cute, and I'm not little. You're going to give me a wish in exchange for a soul and that's final," I glared at his measly eyes and he chuckled.
"Look, Hannah, you seem like a nice girl and everything. But you don't want to get involved in this stuff. You honestly don't know what you're saying."
"Believe me, I know. I've done my research and I've made my decision final. I'm not going anywhere," I pulled out an obsidian dagger that I stole from my parents.
Leonard trembled and beads of sweat dampened his forehead. "L-L-Look, we c-can work this o-out. J-Just p-put that away and we'll talk."
I sheathed the dagger in my pocket. "Good. Now listen to me, you're going to make me the best piano player in the world. I'm finally going to be better than Melanie who's in all my classes and champion of the state in my age group. Not to mention she's a huge bully and so full of herself."
"F-Fine, we c-can do that. I just need you to sign something."
"Before I sign it, I need you to agree that you will give me this piano playing ability in time for my audition for the state competition. After which my soul is yours. Do we have a deal?"
"Yes, we have a deal," Leonard twitched.
I made a [part 2.](https://www.reddit.com/r/randallcooper/comments/hla9sd/wpi_have_helped_you_with_your_endeavor_now_i/) :)
r/randallcooper | The demon stared blankly at me, as if seeing right through me. I smiled, to myself of course. No good comes from smiling in front of a demon. They imagine themselves the smiling ones, tricking humans left and right out of their souls. When I found the demon, lost and about in the alleyway, I knew what was to be done. Popular culture warned me well. My father warned me even better.
"Cut the angel dust," it said, infuriated. "What do you mean by 'our contract is not legally binding'? Are you stupid?"
I scoffed. The demon mocked my intelligence—my intelligence! I wagged my finger and smiled smugly. "Our contract is not legally binding. What else is there to it? Are you sure there's a brain in that hot head of yours?"
The demon twitched angrily. Steam poured out of his ears like a locomotive. The room warmed unnaturally, to the point uncomfortable idle sweating. I held my ground.
"Look, kid." The demon ground his teeth, but forced a smile anyway. "I have helped you with your endeavor. Now, I claim your soul. Be a good little mortal and get in the ritual circle and give me your soul."
I raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Thank you, but no. I don't know how it works in hell, but here on earth, a contract signed by a minor is not legally binding. I'm seventeen and I'm keeping my soul. Also screw you."
The demon heaved a heavy, violent breath in an attempt to cool himself down. It failed.
"Why," it said slowly, enunciating every syllable to make itself absolutely clear, "do you think I care about your stupid earthly laws?"
I took great offense to his words. I gasped extra loud and obnoxiously to show my indignation. "Demon thing, if you dare say you don't respect my world's laws, then I have no care for your contract. I'm leaving." I turned and walked away like the victor I was.
"Hey, hey! Stop! Don't leave!" It pleaded. "I can't go home empty handed like this. I completed my part of the bargain, so do me a favor and complete yours as well." It pounded its fists as if striking upon a great idea. "Oh, I know! If you leave, you'll technically be swindling me! Last I checked, that's not legal or ethical either?"
"Shut up. I don't want to hear about ethics from a demon," I spat, trying to cover up my nervousness because he was indeed precisely correct.
The demon dropped its forced smile and rose. The room shook. It vibrated every which way, as if foreshadowing an intense danger. The demon rose from its position, flared up fire from hell, and inflated to twice its size. It hung imposingly over me.
"If I can't get your soul the right way, I'll have to take it by force!"
It lunged at me the way only a demon could. I was unshaken. In my right hand was a cell phone, already dialed. It's screen portrayed an ongoing call. It hit but seven seconds in before another rumble shook the room. It was greater yet delicate. The demon stopped.
Another figure superimposed itself between the demon and I. It was a transparent figure, clouded in white, dressed in a fresh-pressed suit with a trinity knot tie. It spelled heavenly business. I smirked once more.
"... Who is this?" The demon spelled in confusion.
"This..." I said, "Well, I'll let it introduce itself."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance," it said. "I'm a persecutor from the heavenly realm. How do you do?"
"Oh. Thank you for asking. I feel like hell-WAIT! Stop right there. Kid, what in the underworld is this? How did you get ahold of a celestial attorney?
I pulled out a packet. "It was on the manual you gave me. See, it's right here." I outlined the specific block of text which pertained to our current matters. "'*Thou mayest hire a celestial attorney if needed. Call the number at (123) 456-7890 (message and data rates may apply).'"*
The demon clicked its tongue. "I knew we should've made the text smaller. Or added more old English. Or used Latin entirely..."
"You could've just ripped the page out, or not hand me the manual point-blank," I added.
"Don't be silly," the demon chuckled. "That's illegal!"
I stood there disappointed. My angel attorney coughed to interrupt the awkward silence and intercede.
"Demon Lord Zeraxos," the attorney boomed. "I hereby denounce you for crimes against a minor, and minor intimidation."
I dropped into a cold sweat. *Wait a second*, I thought. *This is a Demon Lord?*
I smiled awkwardly. "Hey, maybe this wasn't such a good idea-"
"Fine!" Demon Lord Zeraxos said, laughing wildly and hysterically. "You think I will be shamed by a stupid mortal, huh?" It pointed towards me. "When I win this," it said ominously, "I will be taking more than just your soul."
"Right! See you in court!" My attorney said. *They didn't give me a chance to say a thing! What the hell! I mean what the heaven!*
I scratched my head nervously. My confidence left me like the light that passed through my transparent partner-in-crime. The trial takes place in four weeks. We have four weeks to prepare.
"So," I said. "What's the plan?"
It pat my head like a father would a proud son's. I brushed his hand away. It smiled reassuringly.
"This is the perfect time," it said, "to think of one!"
"Cut the angel dust!" I yelled, falling into what the demons affectionately called despair. | 2020-07-04T10:53:02 | 2020-07-04T10:37:15 | 378 | 58 |
[WP] the Dark Lord had killed almost everyone, even the Hero. The final party member stood in the chamber alone. “I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?”. The final party member laughed maniacally with a devilish grin! “There's No One Here To Stop Me Now!!” | "I'm not like those goody-good heros, you have met in the past thousand years."
He was a slow paced swordfighter, who had trouble dodging my minions. At least that's what I thought. Without even batting an eye, he closed the distance between us. I was barely able to escape his grasp, losing a precious strand of hair in the action.
Just a few seconds ago, he was just an ordinary human. A guy who wouldn't stand out much, especially next to the hero. But now, he was emitting a great, omnious aura. Confidence. Strength.
"You know, it was quite a hassle to pretend being all friends with the hero for the past year. I couldn't stand watching someone like him being praised and loved by everyone else, just because he was born lucky."
The contempt in his eyes faded. Slowly walking up to me, a crooked smile formed on his once kind face.
"But you... You are strong. You have ambition. Power. And are not afraid to use it. The longer I watched you conquer the world, the more I wanted to crush you with my own pair of hands."
Before I could say anything, I felt something grabbing me by the neck, pulling my chin up, so that my eyes would fiercely catch onto his crazy gaze.
"You... are mine." | It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Verundo, the hero was cut down by the Dark Lord, like a puppet with his string cut. His sword, Achilles, lie broken on the floor. He was still breathing, but he knew he wasn’t long to this world.
He slowly raised his head and tried to look for his team. He saw them strewn within the marble tiles of the great hall of the Dark Lord. All were dead including his love Dahlia, the Arch Priestess, who always smiled at him whenever he looks at her. Her face, an angelic beacon of hope, gave him strength and courage to face everything. But now, she looked at him with dead eyes, unmoving and unsmiling.
As Verundo, slowly tried to move and crawl towards Dahlia, hoping against hope, that she is still alive, The Dark Lord slowly stood up from his throne and said “So Hero, your party lies here broken and all dead - all except for one.”
Verundo, suddenly gasps and looked towards the door, as he saw Kartuka, the party’s cook. She looks aghast at the scene of carnage. He tried to shout for her to get away, but all he managed was a croak.
The Dark Lord moved towards Verundo and grasped his hair, bringing his face close to Verundo and demonically drawled. “ You are all weak, and the only thing that was strong was your delusion of grandeur to face me and win. Now, as you finally die, I will alow the last member of your party to join you on your new journey.”
He raised his other hand and out of it came a fireball going directly to Kartuka. It exploded as Verundo made his final breath.
The Dark Lord stood and laughed maniacally. But his laughed caught suddenly, as he spied Kartuka, still standing on the door. Kartuka sighed and walked towards the Dark Lord.
The Dark Lord was shocked, and his felt slowly rising trepidation and fear, as he kept casting powerful magic and all for naught to the slowly walking Kartuka. As she came nearer to him, he kept stepping back until he reached his throne.
“Now you’ve done it.” Kartuka said to the Dark Lord, “I cared for these guys deeply, I never knew that this will happen.”
I didn’t care for you or this mission. You can be here for all I care and we can keep stopping your forces from ravaging this land. But Verundo decided to confront you once and for all. If you have been lenient and forgiving, sparing their lives. This will not be happening. You will not face your reckoning. You would not have faced all of the sufferings that I will be eagerly be dishing to you”
Kartuka, her face looking devilish and laughed maniacally. “Now that they’re gone, There’s No One Here to Stop Me Now.” | 2020-07-11T02:42:11 | 2020-07-11T02:31:48 | 249 | 79 |
[WP] the Dark Lord had killed almost everyone, even the Hero. The final party member stood in the chamber alone. “I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?”. The final party member laughed maniacally with a devilish grin! “There's No One Here To Stop Me Now!!” | Allison stood there looking at the Dark lord. She had just watched the last member of her group fall. Her face stony as she felt their heart beat for the last time.
"I have killed everyone, you can not capture me alone. Why are you still here?" He said. His tone a mixture of mocking and was that pity for her?
Her necklace fell to the floor, and a smile crossed her face. She felt her old power resurface as she looked at her new target.
"There's no one here to stop me."she said, reaching to her holster and taking out her weapon of choice. It looked like a tire iron and the Dark lord had seen her wield it before but never like this. Energy crackled out of it and her hands.
"See, they locked me down." She said taking a step forward."As long as they were alive I was at an eighth of my true power, and ferocity. Now they're all dead and nothing is going to hold me back.
Her words measured, her voice steady didn't do as much, but the look in her eyes made the dark lord step back. He was devious, but in her eyes he could see the violence, the maliciousness, and the fact that she was reveling in the possibility caused him to take a step back.
"I'm not going to capture you." She said as she leapt at him, her weapon swinging, an arc of power that he could feel was signalling his end. As the metal connected with him, the last words he heard from her were.
"Thank you for freeing me." | The heavens cried at the death of hero of seven ages. The dark lord, Agnruk laughed atop a mountain of dead bodies.
“Thirty thousand men!” He said, in between his laughter, holding the head of the hero—sans his body—close to his face, “and still you couldn't kill me. All those blessings. All those sacrifices. In vain. In vain.” Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
His voice echoed through the galaxies and even the astrological signs and the planetary deities shook with terror. If the hero can't kill him, no one can. And they knew this for fact that they had tried to kill him once, but they failed. As a result of which Agnruk put all of them in his favourable charts. No matter how much they tried they couldn't move from his spell prisons, and as long as they were in their positions, Agnruk was invincible.
There came a spark. A whetstone rubbing on a small dagger. The tip of the dagger was curved outward. Made of the divine metal. Agnruk looked down and spat close to where the hooded figure sharpening the blade.
“It’s over, son! Show your face. Maybe I'll throw you in my harem and save you from...” The figure stood and threw back the hood, “or daughter... It's better this way.”
The girl took her dagger and ran towards him. Agnruk made a ball of dark energy and threw it towards her. She threw her knife, and then in a swift movement directed his energy at the hilt of his knife. Agnruk seemed shocked to see someone controlling his powers. She pushed onto the energy and the knife, at a blinding speed, tore through the chest of the god of saturn. The astrological balance that made him undefeatable went into ruins. A furious Agnruk channeled a volley of demonflames onto the girl but she just walked through it as if it were ticklish smoke.
“Who... Who are you? I have killed everyone. Even if you are as strong as your illusions are...you can... Can not capture me alone. Why are you still here?” He said. “The prophecy has died with the hero, and now I am..."
A bolt of lightning escaped her palms and striked him off his slaughterhouse. He fell on his throne and his crown toppled off of him. She laughed, “you haven't heard the complete prophecy, have you?”
“The boy of ages, with an arrow on his head
Will charge on the devil, and leave him dead...” Agnruk recited!
“...when cause the devil's horn, the boy's demise
From her slumber the demoness will rise!” She completed the quartet.
Agnruk took out his sword and swayed it like a toy in front of him. “You can't touch me. I killed them, I will kill you. I don't need those stars. I am invincible. I'm AGNRUK!”
The demoness laughed maniacally with a devilish grin. "You don't understand kid. There's No One Here To Stop Me Now!!” | 2020-07-11T04:09:17 | 2020-07-11T03:05:31 | 177 | 36 |
[WP] A person's superpowers emerge during- and relate to- a highly stressful moment in their life. Your brother nearly drowned, and as a result could shape water to his will. A classmate fell from a high balcony, and ended up learning to fly. You? You just got your powers last night. | You know, I could have sworn I had my powers before they even manifested.
Life, after all, had never really gone to plan for me before. My parents dying in an accident, my foster home burning down, me dropping out of school, so on and so forth. A series of misfortunes, all leading up to the moment I pointed the gun at my head and pulled the trigger.
It jammed, of course.
I didn't leave the house for a few months after that.
The first time I did, though, was to the bank, where I got caught in the middle of a robbery. Somehow, the robbers ended up gunning each other down after an argument.
The next time was when I was out getting food. The Speedster had been running past towards some crime scene. He tripped as he passed me and ended up as little meat gibblets on a nearby wall.
The third... well, let's just say a city block near me was leveled with explosives from a failed hostage rescue.
Can you see the pattern now? It certainly didn't take long for the intelligence agencies to.
As you might have guessed, all their plans to take me in failed. Not due to a lack of detailed planning, but because of my presence.
It's funny, now that I think about it. I used to think I was inconsequential. That my existence meant nothing to the world. Now? The world revolves around me. As I move, so does the world, simply to avoid being anywhere near me.
Unfortunately for everyone else, my power is growing every day, and well, there's nothing I can do to stop it.
(A bit of a poor ending, I think, but the idea didn't go as I had planned.) | My breathe scratched and ran out of my throat, as I saw the shapes in my mind emerge from the closet.
“It’s not real it’s not real it’s not real it’s not real” is the only thing that kept me sane, repeating it over and over in my mind. The creature of the night standing above me and staring at me, their eyes haunting and scarring me for life. I always had this stupid, cursed creature above me and around me. I don’t know if it’s related to my fear of the dark or magic, or if there’s something seriously wrong with me, but god I hate it.
Most nights are fine. It’s scary, but it’s fine. But tonight, he’s moving. It’s moving. And there are more creatures, spewing from my drawers and closet and bed. Tears spread down my cheeks, too scared to speak or move, praying to God that I make it out okay.
But then, the light spread across.
Something awakened in me.
Red pierces my eyesight, and the colours form. My room is a red and white cave of sorts. Crystals decorate empty space, with beautiful flowers I’ve never seen before hanging off the walls and roof of the cave-like structure. Creatures that were previously chatting look at me and smile. New creatures, not like the one I dealt with. Gentle, sweet, pleasant. Pastel colours and dark ones too.
“Hi.” The ruby one speaks to me, her blacked out eyes complimenting her red dress covered in light flowers. Her skin smooth and pearly white.
“...Where is this?” I calmly ask, slightly surprised that I feel so calm here.
“A place. I’m Tae” She smirks. “We call it Nomia, and you would call it the Other World. This isn’t the place you came from, obviously.” Tae tries to explain it the best she can. “It’s a hub. A place for all the special people who can access this place.” I glance at the other people around. I see a boy playing with a fake spider, hinting at why he may have so many eyes on his head. A person hanging off the wall, making a ‘warm’ impression to me, since she was made of only lava and fire.
“This is....a place for people who can access it? A select few?” I look back to Tae. She’s distracted by a tablet.
“Ah. You are from a world of people with powers, right?” Tae says, eyes glued to the tablet.
“Yeah...how did you-“
“The tablet tells me” She quickly responds. “I’m sort of a person who helps others who are new here, so I get told this sort of thing.”
I think carefully, sorting through the most important questions. “How do I get back? What do I say this place is? How is this-“ I’m cut off.
“Close your eyes and say you want to go back. Easy” Tae answers my first question with ease. “What do you say this place is? That’s a harder one.”
She thinks for a moment, and lights up, throwing the tablet to the wall.
“Home.”
(Sorry if it’s bad, I wrote it very quickly and it’s the first one I’ve written) | 2021-04-01T03:34:19 | 2021-03-31T21:40:54 | 133 | 37 |
[WP] A person's superpowers emerge during- and relate to- a highly stressful moment in their life. Your brother nearly drowned, and as a result could shape water to his will. A classmate fell from a high balcony, and ended up learning to fly. You? You just got your powers last night. | You stare at the television, still trying to move. Another city hit. Leviathan, this time. 40,000 dead. How long have things been like this? You can't remember the last time you've seen the news without some parahuman threat topping the hour. It's paralyzing, and you would chuckle at the pun despite it all if you still had you the ability.
The nurse walks in and changes your sheets. She talks, and it's a welcome reprieve, but the inability to respond irks you. When she leaves, her foot catches on the IV stand. It moves in front of the television, and you feel a sinking in your gut. You try and call out to her, to thrash, to move even one pinky toe or motion with your eyes or tell her what she's done, but she doesn't notice and she passes the curtain beside you and now you're STUCK HERE AND—
For one moment, you see them. they twist and turn, twin snakes of white and gold larger than any thing you've ever seen, than you ever will see. A shard breaks off and flies towards you. Direction and magnitude, you think, your thoughts drifting. It hits you, and clarity comes like a bullet to the brain—your body doubles over, and you scream and you shout and you—
You're back. The nurse stands in front of you again. You blink. She blinks. You move your hand, and watch as the nurse sits there, unmoving, eyes filled with terror.
There's an IV bag in front of the television, and nobody is coming to help her. | My breathe scratched and ran out of my throat, as I saw the shapes in my mind emerge from the closet.
“It’s not real it’s not real it’s not real it’s not real” is the only thing that kept me sane, repeating it over and over in my mind. The creature of the night standing above me and staring at me, their eyes haunting and scarring me for life. I always had this stupid, cursed creature above me and around me. I don’t know if it’s related to my fear of the dark or magic, or if there’s something seriously wrong with me, but god I hate it.
Most nights are fine. It’s scary, but it’s fine. But tonight, he’s moving. It’s moving. And there are more creatures, spewing from my drawers and closet and bed. Tears spread down my cheeks, too scared to speak or move, praying to God that I make it out okay.
But then, the light spread across.
Something awakened in me.
Red pierces my eyesight, and the colours form. My room is a red and white cave of sorts. Crystals decorate empty space, with beautiful flowers I’ve never seen before hanging off the walls and roof of the cave-like structure. Creatures that were previously chatting look at me and smile. New creatures, not like the one I dealt with. Gentle, sweet, pleasant. Pastel colours and dark ones too.
“Hi.” The ruby one speaks to me, her blacked out eyes complimenting her red dress covered in light flowers. Her skin smooth and pearly white.
“...Where is this?” I calmly ask, slightly surprised that I feel so calm here.
“A place. I’m Tae” She smirks. “We call it Nomia, and you would call it the Other World. This isn’t the place you came from, obviously.” Tae tries to explain it the best she can. “It’s a hub. A place for all the special people who can access this place.” I glance at the other people around. I see a boy playing with a fake spider, hinting at why he may have so many eyes on his head. A person hanging off the wall, making a ‘warm’ impression to me, since she was made of only lava and fire.
“This is....a place for people who can access it? A select few?” I look back to Tae. She’s distracted by a tablet.
“Ah. You are from a world of people with powers, right?” Tae says, eyes glued to the tablet.
“Yeah...how did you-“
“The tablet tells me” She quickly responds. “I’m sort of a person who helps others who are new here, so I get told this sort of thing.”
I think carefully, sorting through the most important questions. “How do I get back? What do I say this place is? How is this-“ I’m cut off.
“Close your eyes and say you want to go back. Easy” Tae answers my first question with ease. “What do you say this place is? That’s a harder one.”
She thinks for a moment, and lights up, throwing the tablet to the wall.
“Home.”
(Sorry if it’s bad, I wrote it very quickly and it’s the first one I’ve written) | 2021-04-01T02:29:02 | 2021-03-31T21:40:54 | 65 | 37 |
[WP] After being told she had an accident and had "gone to heaven", his mind exploded in a white hot rage. 7 year old Roger wants his kitty back and God doesn't know what's about to hit him. | "A cat? Ha! There are no cats on level three, boy. All the cats are kept in the upper levels."
"The upper levels?"
"Thats right, but I'm afraid little boys aren't allowed. Cats only allowed up there, you see?"
The boys fists were clenched.
"I don't see!" said. "I need to find my cat," he said starring up at the towering figure who oversaw the lowest levels of heaven.
"Well, I can tell you one thing for sure young boy, you're not going up without a clearance stamp. Imagine that. A little boy given a stamp for the upper levels? Ha, absurd! Free to run around to his hearts content with every deceased cat that ever went to heaven? Ha! You would need a seraphim to take you and frankly, you've got no chance boy!"
"A seraphim?"
"That's right little boy, I suppose theoretically you could get one to take you up there, but they won't even give someone like you the time of day on earth, much less a stamp to the upper levels, Ha!"
The towering figure who oversaw the lowest levels of heaven bent over to get closer to the boy, his long arching body wrapped around the golden podium that made up his eternal post. He explained that the seraphim were the highest level of angel and as such, they were granted access to every level of heaven, even the cat levels. The problem was that when they weren't busy tending the throne of god himself, they generally spent most of their time singing loudly to themselves. They certainly did not take little boys to find their dead cats.
The boy spent what felt like years searching heaven for a seraphim to grant him passage to the upper levels. He crossed a hundred fogged bridges on level three before ascending to the endless forests of the nearly abandoned level four. On level ten, the maintenance level, he found a heavenly janitor who told him that the seraphim resided on level twenty-seven and after what seemed like several more years, the boy finally happened upon the office of the seraphim in the Throne Caretakers district.
"Excuse me," the boy asked the woman behind the glass window. "Im looking for the seraphim, do you know where I can find them?"
"Do you have an appointment?"
"Well no, but you see, I've been trying to find my cat for the longest time and I know he's up on the upper levels and I simply must ask the seraphim to give me a stamp so I can go find him!" He blurted out, nearly exhausted from what had seemed to be an endless trip.
"Of course you do darling, go right in," the woman winked and buzzed the door open. The boy walked into a vast office space filled with hundreds of desks. Desks with phones and stacks of papers and each had a vacuum tube which could be loaded with papers which would ascended as far up as the boy could see before disappearing. At each desk sat a person in a blue shirt and khakis.
"Hello, Im looking for the seraphim, do you know where one might be?" The boy asked.
"I'm one kid," the man in the blue shirt said as he sang a loud G flat into an envelope, licked it, and placed it into the vacuum tube which shot up with a loud, airy slurp.
"You're a seraphim?" The boy asked.
"Thats right. Look kid, we don't have all day, are you going to wrap this up?" The seraphim never looked away from his work. "What can I do for you kid?"
"Well sir, I've come a long way. I've come a long way to find you because my cat died and I need to find him because I know how scared he must be. I need to find him as soon as I can." The boys fists began to form a tight ball. "I just, I can't let him be alone anymore, I just can't!" The seraphim paused for a moment and set the envelope he had been sealing on the desk and looked down at the boy.
"That's touching kid, but we've got a business to run here. We can't just let any kid in here go running up to the upper levels to find their lost pets. Why, it would be mayhem. Once a cat dies, that's it. Theres nothing I can do." The boys eyes began to well up.
"But he didn't mean it! He didn't know that car was going to hit me! He was just trying to get me to move out of the way." The boy broke down into tears.
"What was that?" The seraphim asked but the boy was inconsolable.
"Boy! Stop crying, what did you say?" The boy looked up at him and wiped his face. "About the cat trying to get you out of the way?"
"Thats right, he was just trying to warn me, he didn't know he was going to die. He must be so scared." The seraphim paused for a second and looked at the boy. "You know there might be something I can do, wait here." The seraphim got up and ran into a room near by and when he returned he came with two other seraphim.
"I've got good news, Roger, we've talked it over and your cat, it says here his name is Mitty, can stay together. You see, when a cat saves a human life, and believe me, it doesn't happen often, but when it does, well, it grants you both certain privileges. So we're granting you access to find Mitty."
"Oh really!?" The boy jumped with excitement.
"That's right, here, hold out your hand". The seraphim stamped the boys hand and led him to the door which would lead him to the upper levels of heaven.
"Thank you so much!" The boy said as he began to ascend. | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc -1, Part 3: Roger v.s. A Godlike Government.)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections; however, there are references to other stories which I've linked in the text. For continuity purposes, I gender-swapped the cat to be male.)
**Apparently, God wore a crisp black suit and a shiny shield badge.** At least, that was what Roger had learned today. He'd been playing hide-and-seek in the front yard with Connor when an unmarked car slid up and a man with a cage walked out. The man didn't see him—Roger was *really* good at hide-and-seek. Roger watched him warily as he swiftly strode towards the faded front door of their ramshackle, one-story house; Connor had some kind of job at a Tupperware factory, and had barely managed to afford a place for him and his younger brother, and he'd impressed into Roger the need to treat everything carefully, because they really couldn't afford to fix something if it broke—and if their house got too damaged, then they had a choice between living on the streets or going back to their father.
Roger knew which one he'd take in a heartbeat. They'd fought too hard to get independence from Mathias.
Evidently, the man with the suit and cage didn't agree, because he took one look at the locked door and rammed his fist on it, shaking splinters from its frame as he went. "OPEN UP! This is the Califerne Animal Control Department!"
Connor was at the door in a flash; Roger instinctively concentrated harder on staying hidden. He looked at the man in the suit and marshaled his scowl into a pleasant expression. "Connor Elman. How can I help you?"
The man flashed a badge at Connor's face. "We received a report from one Mathias Elman that you've been harboring a dangerously feral animal in your home."
Roger's eyes widened. *Dad* had sent him? Did he hate them so much that he had to send government spooks after them? And a dangerously feral animal? The only animal in the house was Zeus, and he wouldn't hurt a fly.
Except... except for [that one time](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/motpak/wp_humans_have_been_giving_their_pets_god_names/), the night they left, and Dad had tried to hurt Connor and Zeus. Zeus had gotten *mad*, then, and Roger heard that Dad had gotten pretty scratched up.
But... why would Dad do that?
Connor clenched his fists. "I'm not letting you take Zeus."
The man raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid that, unless you have documentation of ownership, then regardless of what you think you can *let* me do, I will be leaving here with Zeus."
He was pushy, too. And rude. Roger's teacher would have put him in the time-out corner.
Connor did his best impression of Mr. Stal, all firm and insistent and refusing to bow down in the face of a childish bully. "And I'm afraid that you're standing on privately-owned property. Property that I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
The man smirked. "Of course, of course. And I can't be held liable if any unowned property just happened to come with me." He opened up a plastic bag of something that smelled pungent and meaty, and turned around to leave.
Connor gave him a quizzical, look, but Roger got it immediately—even before he heard Zeus' thudding footsteps cascading towards the front door.
Cat treats.
Connor realized too late. "Zeus, *no!*" He tried to snag Zeus out of the air with a Tupperware bin, but the nimble cat just moved too fast. The man deftly caught Zeus and unceremoniously shoved him into the cage he'd brought with him; too late, Zeus realized he'd been trapped.
"Who the hell do you think you are? You can't just steal my cat!" Connor stormed forward.
"Oh, I'm sorry—did you say this was your cat? I seem to recall you failing to provide documentation for him." Zeus hissed at the bars of his cage; the man placed him in the passenger seat and shut the door. "If you feel like you've been slighted, you can feel free to take it up with the Califerne office. We'll get back to you within six to eight business weeks."
Connor seemed like he was going to surge at the man and knock his teeth in; the man just stood there, leaning against his car, arms folded.
Connor hesitated, the fury in his mind cooling off. Roger could almost hear his older brother going over the lessons he'd drilled into Roger himself. *Think,* Connor would be musing. *He's being deliberately provocative. He's trying to bait you into attacking him—and that'd make your problems infinitely worse. We have enough trouble staying away from Dad without me losing my job.*
Connor clenched his jaw and stopped. "I'll do that."
The man smirked, eyeing their house's obvious lack of a car. "It's quite a long walk up the Califerne strip, but I'm sure you'll manage it."
And he slipped into his perfect black sedan and drive away.
Connor watched him go for a heartbeat. Then two. Then five.
Then he hung his head. "Zeus..." he whispered.
Roger moved up next to his older brother. "...Connor, what... what happened to Zeus?"
Connor swallowed. "He... got taken. Dad must've—that spiteful little—"
"Like Mom got taken?"
Roger's brother flinched. He looked down at his younger brother with mournful eyes. "...Exactly like that, yeah."
"So Roger's in Heaven right now? With Mom?"
Connor stopped walking and slumped over. "God. God, I hope so."
Roger frowned, his young mind turning over the words. "Who... who's God?"
Connor snorted. "The government might as well be God. They can just... storm into our house and snatch up one of our family members and we can't do a damn thing about it."
Slowly, a fury bubbled up in Roger's chest, a leonine, leashed energy like Zeus right before he pounced. "Yeah, we can," Roger snapped. "The God-government's trying to take our kitty away? Let's take him back."
Connor looked at his younger brother, then pulled out his cellphone, a flicker of determination coming to life in his eyes. "You're right." He selected a contact—his only contact, really. "We can take him back. But we'll need help."
He showed the contact to his brother, who squinted at the photo uncertainly.
And [Clara Olsen](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mot0ex/wp_the_ocean_can_be_scary_and_so_can_many_of_the/) stared back.
A.N.
I'm trying something new! "Bargain Bin Superheroes" will be an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. | 2021-04-13T13:54:41 | 2021-04-13T12:04:03 | 97 | 20 |
[WP] You are a part of a cult that believes the end of the world is near. Unlike most doomsday cults your group is made up of ex-scientists who discovered an ancient evil deep within the earth, and found that it was due to awaken in a few weeks time. | >**Abstract:**
>Data collection of seismic activity between active volcanos has been woefully inadequate. Gaps in sensor coverage caused by insufficient techniques and materials used in the construction of sensor networks result in incomplete data sets that require new algorithms simply to extrapolate the missing data. We designed a new framework to more completely detect seismic and volcanic activity, resulting in higher quality data transmission and higher SNR, lower downtime, and an overall more complete concept of what occurs below. Furthermore, we discuss the preliminary findings of the data, the impact it has had on the field of volcanic fluid mechanics, geophysics, and the inevitable end of humanity in a few short weeks.
***
“I *told* you, you’re doing the indices wrong. MATLAB starts with one,” Dr. Pratchett said.
“That’s preposterous,” replied Dr. Piers. “No self-respecting programmer would create a one-indexed language.”
“This isn’t a self-respecting language,” Dr. Pratchett said. “It’s not even really a language. It’s a glorified engineering calculator.”
“Then why are *we* using it?” Dr. Piers asked. “I keep telling you, we should just throw together a Python script.”
“We don’t have that much time!” Dr. Pratchett said. “That Which Consumes the Souls of the Living declared that he has been awakened, and that was *two weeks ago*. If we want to get this thing published and peer-reviewed to warn the world, we need to finish this project *now*.”
Dr. Piers snorted. “You underestimate me, Jerry. I can get a script whipped up before you can even blink.”
“Will you *please* shut up?” I growled. “I need to finish typing out the conclusion and I won’t manage that with you two baboons howling over there.”
Dr. Piers and Dr. Pratchett glanced at each other. “Well, sorry, little miss diva. I didn’t realize *post-docs* were such brats these days.”
I sighed and continued writing.
“Just go back to MATLAB, you idiot!” Dr. Pratchett said. “There’s no way you’ll get your script running correctly in time to get this published!”
“It won’t take that long!” Dr. Piers said. “I only need a few days. A week tops.”
“We don’t *have* a week! If we want to induct humanity into the Cult of the One Which Consumes the Souls of the Living and save One of Twelve of One of Twelve as his Word dictates, we need to *publish*!”
“Yes, but if I get this done in Python then we have a bit more flexibility as to the exact algorithm that is applied to the data! ODE45 is just a lacking tool. I bet if I fiddle with it a bit, we can get an even more accurate time stamp, and I *strongly* suspect that we have more time than we think!”
“No, you dolt, we *don’t!* MATLAB indices start at one!”
“That’s preposterous,” said Dr. Piers. “No self-respecting programmer would start at one.”
“Oh, for...” I sighed. “I hate the both of you. I really do. I hope that neither of you is in the One of Twelve of One of Twelve.”
Dr. Piers glared at me. “And *I* hope that That Which Consumes the Souls of the Living takes CV into consideration when the Final Judgement comes. I can’t imagine that someone who can’t even land an associate professorship would be one of the One of Twelve of One of Twelve.”
I unplugged my laptop and stood. “I”m going to Dr. Harrison’s office,” I growled. “*He* has an espresso machine.”
Piers and Pratchett glared at me. “Hail the One That Consumes. May His long rest never be hungry again,” they said in unison.
“Hail to Him. May our souls please him,” I finished, leaving the office.
***
>**Conclusion:**
>Overwhelming evidence indicates that the data was correctly interpreted. That Which Consumes the Souls of the Living will come. Those who are pure of heart must join the Cult of the One Which Consumes the Souls of the Living and give Him deference so as to be One of Twelve of One of Twelve. This conclusion is supported by Barr et al. whose data analysis framework suggests that the results have a p-value less than 0.0001. Furthermore, it is clear that Henderson et al. were correct about the outcomes of their 2013 experiment and that the existing data sets were incomplete. Extrapolation of that data set did not match our new data, suggesting their conclusion about the inactivity of supervolcanos along fault lines was incorrect. Trang et al. agree, noting that the patterns in ancient sedimentary deposits do not agree with modern predictions. This team recommends that further study of the geological cycle be studied except it is futile. Hail the One That Consumes. May His long rest never be hungry [again](https://reddit.com/r/Badderlocks). | “Hey, you!” The deep voice came from across the parking lot, “stay where you are, you’re not allowed here!” The owner of the voice was a short middle aged man, wearing a black jacket, the white embossed letters spelling out ‘SECURITY’ across his chest, he had one hand stretched out in front of him, his palm open, and his other pressed firmly on the holster of a gun at his side.
Dr. Peak stood up slowly, raising his hands above his head while dropping the black bag he had just pulled out of the dumpster.
“Good morning, sir” said Dr. Peak, politely, “I was leaving, sorry to have bothered you.”
Dr. Peak took a tentative step to the side, pushing his hands slightly higher above his haed.
“Stop where you are, what are you doing here?” The security guard demanded.
“Just rummaging through this trash here” Dr. Peak answered innocently, “you can’t begrudge an old homeless man some food, can you?”
The security guard raised an eyebrow, “You’re looking for food, here? At the Earthquake Science Center?” he asked with more than a hint of scepticism.
Dr. Peak smiled nervously. He had practiced his excuse a dozen times before his assignment. But he never got used to the deception, “Okay, you got me.” He said, hoping it had come across as more charm rather than annoyance. “I was hoping these science types might have thrown out some stuff I can sell. Gizmo’s and such.”
The security guard pulled his hand away from his side, and Dr. Peak sighed loudly, and lowered his hands. To him, Dr. Peak must have looked a sorry sight. He was dressed in an off brown yak coat that was covered in stains, jeans that were much too big for his small frame and a black woollen beanie with moth holes chewed clean through. His big toe stuck out through a hole in his shoe, his face was unshaven and had patches of dirt. And the stench. The man smelled like he was spending his evenings in the sewers.
“Well, you can’t be here, alright? There’s no stuff in there you can steal anyway, it’s just a bunch of papers” The security guard felt pity for the man. It had become an increasing problem in the Bay Area. He drove past the homeless camps every morning on his way home from work. The security guard looked around him for cameras or witnesses. Protocol said that anyone caught snooping around the center was to be taken in, but it was almost 6 in the morning, his night shift was coming to an end, and he didn’t feel like filling out the forms.
“I should take you in but you look like you’ve had a rough night.” He turned and started walking away “I’ll take you to the gate and let you off with a warning. But don’t let me see you around here again pal!”
Dr. Peak followed the security guard a step behind. Once he was clear of the gate, and out of sight of the security guard, he stuffed his hand into his jacket and pulled out a beige envelope, the words “TOP SECRET” stamped across the top and bottom in big red letters.
He walked quickly to his car and climbed inside, and drove away from the center, too afraid to check his rear view mirror. He came to a stop in an abandoned lot, locked his doors, and opened up the folder.
Dr. Peak was one of the world’s leading seismologists. Specialising in sub-aquatic seismic events. Or at least he used to be, until he was frozen out of the scientific community by his peers ten years ago, his theories discarded and cast aside with him. He had endured great humiliation from the very people he called colleagues, some even friends. His own wife of 20 years, herself an expert on marine biology, had left him because she couldn’t stand to be around him anymore. Not since he had come back from his expedition.
13 years ago he led a small team of seismologists and geologists on an Antarctic expedition, studying an increase in seismic activity on the frozen continent. What he and his team found there was sure to shake the entire world to its very core.
Dr. Peak had barely escaped with his life. He had lost 3 of the other 4 members of his team. The only other surviving member was a young grad student. Dr. Peak felt a pang of guilt. Of all the people who had had their lives torn apart by that trip, Megan’s was perhaps the most tragic. Being a survivor was more a curse than a blessing. While he and the others on that trip had enjoyed an illustrious career at the top of their fields, Megan was just a student, studying for her PhD. She hadn’t even earned the honorific ‘Dr’ before she too was hounded out of the community to a backdrop of ridicule. She had stuck with him all these years since that day. And had Peak had the power to award her a doctorate, he would have done many years ago.
He flicked through the file and felt his heart beat faster in his chest. This is what he had been looking for. This is what he had needed. With this, and with his own research, there was no way anyone could ever question him. He didn’t blame the USGS for filing this away. Without context, context they sorely lacked, it just seemed like a bunch of gibberish. Quirky and interesting gibberish, but gibberish all the same. But with what he knew, and had, it was the key to everything.
He hadn’t found the file in the dumpster, but instead had spent the last 3 hours crawling through miles of abandoned tunnels before finding the right room. It had taken him another hour to find the right safe containing the file. He barely made his extraction at the dumpster on time, climbing out of the manhole cover with seconds to spare. He knew that Gill the hapless security guard would take a stroll around there at that time. As he had done every morning for the past week. He knew it was Gill’s last shift of the week, and that’s why he knew Gill wouldn’t bother with a harmless bum like him. Swiping the access keycard off his belt as he walked behind him was so easy Dr. Peak almost felt guilty.
As he flicked through to the last, he had a sensation in his stomach, like someone had dropped a very large rock down his throat. He hastily pulled out his phone and called Megan, and before she had a chance to speak he blurted down the phone “I found it. We’re out of time!”
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
This is the first time I have ever written anything fictional. I just wanted to try it. Sorry if I suck. | 2021-04-27T07:34:48 | 2021-04-27T07:02:06 | 159 | 106 |
[WP] You and your partner are officially dating and out to the public. Which is great, except they’ve been caught “cheating” on you with your masked alter ego. Clearly the only solution is to claim to be in a poly relationship with you, your partner, and yourself. Shenanigans ensue. | *"I mean, who really is this woman? Here folks, take a look at this--"*
Caped Chatter-- the popular superhero gossip show was playing on the television. Its annoying host with a punchable face waved his arm around as a picture flew into the screen.
*"Look at this b-word, folks. Lemme tell ya, what a c-word. Who has that kind of cojones to go up to our beloved Super Sky and smooched him right on the pecker?"*
The picture caught by a paparazzi showed the famous superhero, Super Sky, floating up high above the city with a dark-haired woman held in his embrace, clearly kissing.
"Dude, what the actual f\*ck? He can't say that about me!", Rachel yelled at the TV, frustrated and annoyed.
"Babe, calm down. You know how Caped Chatter is. They're deliberately being offensive to get views", Jason said, snuggling up with his girlfriend on their living room couch one lazy Saturday.
The mild mannered painter named Jason Griffith, who would've thought he was in actuality the secret identity of the city's most famous superhero-- Super Sky, the hero with the power of the wind.
*"Oh, oh! It gets even better, folks. Lemme tell ya--"*, the Caped Chatter host continued.
"I swear to god, if he says lemme tell ya one more time, I'm gonna go to Twitter and blast this dude", Rachel said through gritted teeth.
*"Take a look at this picture! This b-word...was caught with another guy, a non-super! I mean, what a ho!"*
Rachel and Jason got wide-eyed seeing themselves being caught on camera, being together sitting outside a restaurant.
"That's a breach of privacy! They can't do that!", Rachel yelled.
Jason shook his head and turned the TV off. In contrast to his girlfriend, he was calm as a cucumber.
"That's...yeah, that's messed up", he muttered.
"Jas, we've gotta do something! People are going to think I'm a homewrecker!", Rachel yelled angrily, her face became redder and redder by the second.
"Hey, hey, babe, it's fine, it's going to be fine, okay? Nobody watches this crappy show anyway. We're gonna be fine", Jason pulled Rachel for a hug, calming her down when suddenly his phone rang.
"Oops, that's my hero phone", he hurriedly picked it up. "Trouble in downtown. I've gotta go, babe, I'm sorry. See you at dinner?"
Rachel was still fuming, but she reluctantly nodded before Jason could fly away as Super Sky.
Rachel knew the risk of dating a superhero, all of its pro and con and how they're going to affect her life. But one thing she never thought would bother her immensely however, was how other people would meddle into her personal life.
Having enough, Rachel decided to go out to get some fresh air, hoping the matter would resolve itself after some time...
\*\*\*
"Hey, you're that b-word who's playing Super Sky, right?", a man said to Rachel's face, startling her as she took a stroll around the city.
"Excuse me?", Rachel remarked, unamused.
"Oh my god, that is her!", a woman chimed in, seemingly in disbelief as she recognized Rachel's face from TV.
"Leave Super Sky alone, you harlot!", an older woman joined the conversation.
Flustered, Rachel walked faster, cutting passed the slowly gathering crowd around her.
Names were being thrown at her. Taunts and jeers were yelled at her. Quickly Rachel's anger boiled up, culminating in her screaming her lungs out.
"SHUT UP!"
Despite that however, the people kept going at her.
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!", Rachel screamed, running away from the scene but the crowd kept following her. | It was another scorching spring in the year of 1754.
I had just been to a dance, a special dance marking the coronation of a new King of the Northern Realm.
We all wore face masks, as to hide our true intent, our true emotions, our desires...
It was, without a doubt, one of the best dances I've attended and the reason for that is none other than him, my boyfriend, the Masked Musketeer.
He didn't recognize me, but I spotted him immediately among the crowd, his tough-cookie stance was unique to him as were those green eyes with hues of blue.
We kissed and I felt the fireworks, viscerally, it was like a fire burning deep inside me, growing bigger and bigger.
After the kiss, he told me about his girlfriend, describing none other than me.
I was enchanted by this words and just as he was reaching the apogee of his story, he stopped abruptely, blushing, breaking physical contact and running out of the dance hall.
\------
It was another blazing day when we met, without masks, but not as hot as the furnace of my soul.
He came up to me, kissed me with so much passion I had almost stopped breathing! After a while, he let me breathe my own air again and I looked at him, doe-eyed, and intiated another kiss, just as he was about to open his mouth.
I knew what was on his mind, but I didn't want the rendezvous to end, I didn't want it to turn into a conversation between two people. No, it was supposed to be something much bigger than that.
He left for spear training and a part of me dissipated. I was addicted to his breath, smell, touch...
I was so infatuated, I didn't even notice two of my friends approaching me, flicking their fingers in front of my face.
''Sheila, snap out of it, he is nothing but a player!''
''What?'' My blissful reverie was coming to an end, it was if someone pulled the rug underneath my feet, the world lost its colors, all that remained were the stinging rays of the unrelenting star that gave us life.
''We saw him kissing a harlot at the ball, he is cheating on you, that he is!'' One of my friends said, as the other creased her brows.
''This has all been a misunderstanding,'' I smiled, ''That 'harlot' was me!''
My friends stood motionless, still in shock as they soaked up my words. I took intiative and added: ''We like to spicen up our love life with a bit of roleplay, nothing serious.''
Both of my friends nodded, seemingly satisfied with the explanation.
\-------
The sun had settled and the stars were out in force, a beautiful night for a meet-cute, but our meeting was so much more than that, the fireworks, I had already talked about them, were shining bright again, littering the sky with color.
The mask was back on, it was time to feel alive again, raw emotion seeping through my being.
He kissed me once more and apologized - it was to be his last kiss, he had a girlfriend, a loving one, he couldn't forgive himself for a liaison with any other girl but her.
Before he could utter a single word, I kissed him again. I didn't want to let go, I couldn't let go.
He kissed back and we were two souls united into one.
\-------
Daylight, the masks fell off and so did the high of love. I saw him, bare-faced and felt nothing, as if watching a stranger among the crowd.
He waved to me and I felt disgusted by him, my boyfriend. Where was the mask that promised so much and gave even more? Where was the liveliness, the spark between him and me? Who had taken it away?
I ran away and he followed, shouting: ''Mary, there is something I must tell you!''
No, he wouldn't get the satisfaction. I wouldn't let him ruin everything.
Unfortunately, I reached a cul de sac and was greeted with a giant wall bloking my path.
I turned around, with tears in my eyes and spoke up: ''Leave me alone, you scoundrel, how could you have cheated on me?!''
He stopped running, took a few cautionary steps towards my direction, but halted when he saw my face gone mad with anger.
''Mary, please, let me explain.''
''There is nothing to explain,'' I said, ''Your wicked ways are none of my concern!''
''Mary... I love you...'' He tried to sound mournful, but I didn't sense any true emotion behind his words.
''Leave me alone!'' And I took off running, passing him by as fast as I could, my legs carrying me towards my home, three miles away.
\---------
Moonlight.
A ball, a wonderful one, with masks of many colors, some mishmashed, some lucid to the eye.
A stranger clad in black approached me, it was none other than him, the Musketeer.
A kiss fell, and the colors whirled again, all around me, engrossing my entire being.
This was it, I thought, this was what life was all about.
\-----------------
If you liked this story, feel free to join /r/innerknightmare for more! | 2021-10-12T04:31:55 | 2021-10-12T03:04:50 | 94 | 23 |
[WP] A bunch of men just tried to assassinate the king. The queen burned them to ash with fire-breath. Now she's acting like nothing happened. You can still see the wings on her back. | Reginald was in a conundrum.
It wasn't the identity of the assassins that concerned him; gleaning anything from the charred corpses would be difficult, but that was a headache for the spymaster. It wasn't even that it had been Her Majesty who put them in such a state, nor the mystery of why she had briefly grown a tail and a pair of wings.
No, what worried him was that he could still see the aforementioned wings bulging against the back of Her Majesty's gown as she comforted the stunned king—and the guards, busy as they were with dragging off the corpses, were only a stray glance away from seeing them too. A good butler anticipated his master's desires, and since Her Majesty had never revealed her... attributes before, she clearly desired to keep them secret.
Reginald sidled to block the guards' line of sight and tried to catch Her Majesty's eye, but alas, she had leaned in to speak to the king. Worse yet, a group of advisors rushed into the throne room through the far entrance, no doubt eager to show off their loyalty and condemn the attack.
Now, Reginald could have spoken up and faced no reproval, but in his eyes, such a thing just wasn't done. A good butler blended into the background, only responding when called for.
Such a conundrum called for special measures. He lifted his white-gloved hand and coughed into it with a carrying sound perfected by decades of service.
The queen looked up sharply and pierced him with a slit-pupil gaze that would have made a lesser man quake. Her expression softened as she recognized him. "By the gods, Reginald, I'd forgotten you were here! You weren't hurt, were you?"
"Not at all," he said. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, but your dress appears to be in a disarray. Shall I fetch you a cloak?"
"My dress?" The queen's brow furrowed in confusion before she followed his gaze over her shoulder. A gasp escaped her lips, and the wings vanished with a rustle. She faced him and lowered her voice. "Reginald—I must ask that you keep what you saw here a secret."
"You don't need to worry," His Majesty interjected, sending him a fond gaze. His face was still pale, but his voice was steady. "Reginald has been with me since I was but a boy. I'd trust him with my life."
"Thank you for the kind words, Your Majesty," Reginald said, his already straight posture assuming an almost military sharpness. "Is there anything I can do for you? A calming drink, perhaps?"
The queen licked her faintly sooty lips. "All this fuss made me hungry. How about an early dinner?" A blush colored her cheeks when the king barked a laugh. "Shush, you."
"A rare steak, perchance?" Reginald said.
The queen flashed him a row of too-sharp teeth. "Exactly what I was thinking."
Reginald bowed, pleased at having anticipated correctly, and excused himself. A man prone to senseless woolgathering might have recalled the legends of dragons who were said to have fled persecution by taking on human forms. Such a man might even have pondered why it was that Her Majesty hadn't seemed to age a day since the king had taken her as a wife. But Reginald was a butler, and a good one at that, so he only made a mental note to replace the carpets in the throne room and to tell the kitchens to stock up on red meat. | The regents seated on their thrones heard the sounds of a scuffle outside the large hall. Metal clanged against metal, men shouted and grunted, armor fell the floor. Twenty men in hoods and brown cloth tunics burst through the large double doors to the enormous hall supported by massive stone pillars lining its walls.
"Guards!" The aged King called loudly upon the disturbance entering, but no one stepped forward but his two personal guards, armed to the hilt and trained in dueling and battle from the day they were given to the Crown. Their golden armor flashed as they stepped between their liege and the would-be interlopers.
The larger of the two men announced in baritone, "who would so disrupt the tranquility of this space and interrupt unduly the governance of our kingdom? Name yourselves or flee now, lest we show you the might and Glory of Arcana."
I am but a scribe who fled with his writing pad and inkwell to the corner under the staired platform to the thrones and behind them, recounting these events so that all may know. If I die here today, tell Mala, my dear, that I love her so and that I am sorry I could not meet our daughter.
Instead of responding the twenty men spread around the throne in a semi-circle like wolves trapping their prey.
They paid me no attention.
One man dressed like all the others stepped forward to the throne and bowed solemnly before speaking. "Dear King, you are ours no longer. We are but shards of the specter that is haunting your kingdom. Cut us down if you must, sixty more will rise in our place. We will not be destroyed. Your rule is over. Abdicate or be eliminated."
The Queen heretofore silent laughed merrily and continued laughing despite no one else present joining in.
"These men mean a to perform a coup, my consort. There is nothing funny happening here." The King looked to his wife quizzically.
"They know not what they mean to attempt." The Queen spat the words out between her continued chuckles.
From beneath their tunics each man retrieved a small armed crossbow, aiming them at the royal couple and guards, two men quickly incapacitated the guards with shots directly at the gaps in their ornate plated armor.
The group's speaker continued, "for crimes against your kingdom and your people, we the representatives of the Republic of Arcania pronounce the sentence achieved in your absence at our assembly. You are to be executed here and now summarily and without appeal. You may have your last words now."
The King raised his eyebrow and looked back and forth at each man present. "Are you aware of what will happen from here? I am a good king and steward of my land and people in a position you would never be able to comprehend. Do what you must, but before you do you must hear from my Queen Consort"
"Milady?" The man looked for the Queen to speak.
She rose from her throne slowly and gracefully as if stepping forward past the groaning guards to perform a song to the men gathered before her. Taking in a deep breath of air, she expelled a horrific yellow sulfuric, burning stream of liquid as her mouth expanded beyond what would be its natural limits. Wings sprouted from her back and beat the air beneath the queen, causing her to rise and hover as she continued to bathe the men in her spit.
The queen spewed copious quantities of the material all around the throne, covering each of the twenty men who immediately began smoking and melting before my eyes. The viscous, horrible smelling material nearly reached my hiding space, but thankfully stopped before reaching my toes.
Where the men were just a moment ago were puddles of brown, red, and yellow surrounded by the queen's liquid which dried quickly into yellow-brown stone.
"Scribe!" The king called for me. I didn't even know he knew I was still here. I went before them and stood at the appointed spot even though it was completely covered in this bile like, but hardened material.
"The Queen has letters to dictate. You will accompany her and her maids to her chamber at once." I had no choice but to comply with the King's order. On the way to follow whatever the Queen was, I did manage to make this last note and tuck it away so that hopefully you may find it.
If you're reading this, Mala, I'm gone. Take care of our little one. I love you both so much and am saddened it won't be able to meet its father. I'm sorry I can't be there with you. I'm so sorry. I love you. I've always loved you. Goodbye.
A man knocks on a wooden door to a small home outside the citadel walls. "Mala?" A black-haired clearly pregnant woman nodded in response. "This is for you. Keep it safe, and if you are seeking allies, call upon me tomorrow at noon. You won't understand until after you've read it. Please take care of yourself."
[/r/courageisnowhere](https://www.reddit.com/r/courageisnowhere/) for more of my work! | 2022-02-25T12:43:38 | 2022-02-25T12:36:27 | 67 | 21 |
[WP] As a young wizard you uncovered an old spell that resurrects one of your eldest ancestor. You do so in curiosity, only to face one of the most feared creature the world ever experienced thousands of years ago. The creature recognizes you as its descendant while you stare at it in disbelief. | My stomach twisted in a manner I didn’t think possible. The urge to expel everything I’d eaten in the past week from my mouth was on a dangerous uphill climb, and my blood felt like ice churning through every inch of my body. My clammy hands trembled, letting the heirloom—a simple necklace—drop to the floor. It clattered, momentarily cutting the deathly silence in the chamber which held me and this—
*Thing.*
It was only human in appearance, baring something I hated to call my likeness. A woman described as the most wicked to ever exist. Someone that stood unopposed as the pinnacle of abomination, a pedestal of monstrous malice and inhuman inconsideration of life. The evilest creature to lay eyes upon the world. In centuries upon centuries, no warlord, tyrant, or beast even managed to hold a candle to the blazing wildfire that was her sheer villainy.
I didn’t dare utter her name, but I could not stop my mind from betraying me and impulsively bringing it to life. Noelle La Pravus, the woman I’d given new life to only moments ago. The woman who I now knew as my predecessor.
She stepped forwards, escaping the shadow that momentarily eclipsed her form. My beady eyes met hers for only a second, for that was all I could bare before I fell to my knees, gaze glued to the ground I clung to. It was not an act of respect, nor obedience. But every cell in my body instinctually bent to whatever horrific aura Noelle had about her, and, like how once naturally shirks from flame after being burnt, standing near her felt like a noose around my throat. I realized, then, that this would be the day I die. No miracle, no god, could save me from the monster I’d given new flesh. No, in fact, they most likely damned me. Cursed my foolish curiosity, which birthed the second coming of absolute evil. I did nothing but wait, preparing for whatever manner of creature she would allow to make a meal out of me with her manipulation of dark matter itself. I squeeze my eyes tight, and wait, and wait, and wait, and pray it will be swift.
But nothing comes.
When I finally build the minuscule courage to open my eyes, through blurry vision, I can make out a hand. Terror grips me as she grasps my wrist. Instead of tearing my arm off, shoulder included—I’m lifted to my feet. For the first time in the minutes I’d been subjected to this hell, I finally felt worthy of taking a breath. And then, in the moments that pass, I can amass enough strength in my tongue to speak.
“Why—“
“Why not?”
She cuts me off, and I don’t make the mistake of doing anything but listen.
“Your blood is mine. Then, in the same manner, my blood is yours. That spell requires strength, child. And you seem to have it in spades. Your life will not end here. It has become the conduit for mine to begin anew.”
“You are now an incarnation of carnage, just as I. We shall open old scars and slice new wounds into the world. From this moment forwards, think of yourself as cursed. And I, as your hex.”
With no more than a swivel of her body, one of her four arms dragged my comparatively small figure along, descending deeper into the blackness before us.
“Come. *We’ve much to do.*” | I just stood there, mouth a gape, staring with unbelieving eyes at the creature before me. It was as massive as it was terrifying, being 6 foot tall myself, it was easily twice my size. It had dark grey skin, almost like that of a rhino or elephant, but for all it's size it's head seemed almost disproportionately small, and with no visible neck. For being twice as tall it had too have been at least 4 or 5 times heavier, arms and legs like tree trunks, and a torso like one of those flat faced semi-trucks. By far the most terrifying part though were the eyes, not to mention the complete lack of any visible mouth or nose. It had four eyes, one pair where you would think eyes should be, and one pair being set a little closer to where one would think the creatures' ears would be. There was no white to it's eyes, just darkness, black in the center and dark shades of gray fading away from where I was sure the pupil was.
There was no doubt that the creature was looking at me though, it's gaze not quite looking me in the eye, but piercing, as if it were trying to see behind me, and it was quite unsettling. I had read about the creature only briefly, texts that even mention it were scarce and mostly in volumes speaking of mythologies. Images of it were scarcer still, but the memory of the few times I had seen them had certainly stuck. Those texts never gave a name, only referring to it as The Destroyer. In the ancient myths, it was believed to have been responsible for the razing of all of Atlantis.
Completely frozen in fear, I still just stood there staring at it, wondering where I had gone wrong in casting the spell. It was old magic and translation took a fair bit of time, but it was still fairly straight forward. The only real difficulty being finding the dragon scale needed for the fire. Then, in a low voice, I heard odd sounding words that seemed to be coming from the beast, though from where exactly I had no idea. When the sounds stopped, still utterly terrified, I could barely summon the courage to raise my hands and shoulders in an obvious state of confusion. I saw it's head tilt to the side a little and it's horrifying dark eyes somehow visibly narrowed. It was almost ten feet away, but with one step it closed the distance immediately and held out it's giant hand in front of my face. Flinching backwards a bit when it suddenly put forth one finger and reached to touch my head. The finger made contact with my left temple, and it was warm, almost hot. The sensation that followed was by far the most unsettling part yet, it was like when you're half asleep and you think you're falling, awakening in terror only to realize your still laying down. It was like that, but in slow motion and with the added twist of having the sensation of something trying to pull you from your body.
Lasting only a few long moments, the relief I felt when it pulled away was immeasurable. The monster took a half step back and raised it's hands to the sky, slowly lowering it's hands palm down, as if it were doing some kind of tai chai breathing exercise. Again, in a trance of complete fear, I was convinced it was going to cast some kind of spell and render untold destruction all around. It was odd though, cause no such spell came forth, and as strange as it was, it almost seemed to be shrinking. Suddenly the light bulb in my brain came on. It w*as* getting smaller, but not only that, there were other curiosities happening at the same time. It's skin and eyes seemed to be getting lighter and it even looked as though it's eyes closer to the ear area were moving closer to where the more normally placed eyes were.
Right about when it was only about a foot taller than me was when things really started to get weird. The rear eyes got so close to the front ones, they were almost touching, until they were squeezed together and then suddenly merged. Things were starting to grow too, and it was quite unsettling. Hair was starting to grow out of the top of the head along with, what I was assuming was going to be, lips, ears, and a nose. It's chest seemed to be growing oddly too, as if it were becoming pregnant with two tiny, assumingly hideous creatures. Once it was my height it dawned on me what was happening, and I immediately looked away in embarrassment. How could I be so dumb, obviously it was changing into the form of a human woman. Furthermore, how ridiculous was it that I felt embarrassed at this particular moment.
Still looking away, I felt a light tapping on my shoulder. I turned to look over my shoulder very slowly, worried now that I would accidently see too much, stopping when I made eye contact with what turned out to be quite a lovely young woman. "Could I borrow your jacket dear? It seems people these days are quite modest, and I can't tell you how hungry I am right now." | 2022-12-31T13:14:21 | 2022-12-31T12:20:41 | 38 | 16 |
[WP] Tell us about a wounded/abandoned hero's last stand. Make us feel.
Holy fuck this got way more answers than I anticipated. All the posts ive seen are great, you guys are some seriously talented writers. I intentionally gave no context so you guys could spin this any way you want and you have blown my mind. Thanks everybody! | Time waits for nobody and nothing, but at that very moment, Sergeant Joseph K. Holstein decided that time had stopped for just a second to take a look at his predicament. He'd been gut-shot, by three or four rounds as he'd tried to rally his troops to him and charge the bunker again. The Resistance was falling apart at the seams, now, people falling into routines of compliance and uncaring. Like any good conquerors, the enemies defeated humanity not by their military might, but by subsuming culture.
He sighed, and the wounds in his chest that would eventually kill him burbled like a brook on a spring day as he thought about the wave of monstrosities that was about to wash down upon him. Resistance attacks were always followed up by the flood of creatures to kill any wounded so they could be absorbed. He couldn't feel his extremeties anymore, so it probably wouldn't hurt.
"Hello? Can anyone hear me?! We need cover, now! Our CO went down, and we're under heavy fire, need evac ASAP, over!"
He frowned. Some of his boys had made it through- that sounded like Terrance. Terrance was the one he was proudest of; the boy had, out of all of them, the most fire and spirit. The young man simply refused to be broken.
"Copy.. that.." the Sergeant said, spluttering, "I'll get.. right on it."
He moved to the bank of explosives they'd been carrying to break the bunker down, and pressed the button down. Light flashed, and he faded..
In the distance, Terrance Holstein watched, and cried. | "Do you know why you've lost?" The Man In Black asked, his long white grin shining in the moonlight. It was wolfish and menacing.
Prometheus clutched at his side. Warm red blood flowed through his fingertips. This wasn't how it was supposed to end.
Large black clouds were rolling in. A storm was coming. The moon disappeared behind their darkness.
"I..." he said, trying to fight through the pain. His leg was broken. So was his right arm. His power source; the place from which he could bring forth fire. "I... haven't lost."
Prometheus would stand defiant, right until the end.
"James," the Man In Black state, his voice full of mocking pity, "you have lost. You lost years ago when you put your faith into these people. You tried to plant a fire into their hearts and minds. You failed. They are beyond salvation."
James felt his body trembling. Exhaustion was filling his extremities. The pain from his wounds made it hard to focus.
"No..." he replied, "no... I can not believe that. I will not."
The Man In Black laughed.
"Brother," he stated coolly, "you always did play the fool. You never did open your eyes. This world is cruel, it is corrupt. It is dying with every beat of the war drums. The war drums that these people insist hasten their journeys to the grave."
"I will not back down. I will save them." Prometheus replied. He looked out over the city. It was asleep, few knew what was taking place on this night.
*The night that the flame would finally be snuffed out.*
"You can not even save yourself." The Man In Black grinned again. "So be it, fool. I'll put an end to your misery, and then I'll put an end to theirs."
Two wicked blades appeared in the villain's hands. They were black to match the figure that wielded them. Prometheus was too weak to go on.
It was all he could do to stand.
*Come on.* He willed his flame to reemerge. *Please...*
The Man In Black roared. He charged his brother. Above them, the brooding clouds began to unleash their downpour.
*I need to fight. For them. I need to save them.* He begged.
His soul responded coldly.
*Why? Maybe he's right. They have never been grateful. They have never accepted your light. They have never accepted you.*
The Man In Black was almost upon him. His red eyes burned in his skull. They were filled with hatred.
*I don't care. I give them my life regardless. I do it freely.*
Prometheus roared in return. All of his strength welled within him. This was his end. He would meet it with an even gaze.
His hands came together in a clap.
A flame appeared. His flame.
"Goodbye, Brother!" James shouted. The Man In black swung his swords down at the hero.
The flame in the hero's hands ballooned out in all directions. Fire turned the rain into steam. A flash of light lit up the night sky.
The explosion shattered windows a mile away.
The people awoke to rain.
The fire had gone out. | 2014-07-14T09:50:31 | 2014-07-14T09:38:50 | 41 | 29 |
[WP]An old genie grants you three wishes. After granting your first two, you tell him the third. He is horrified, and begs you to reconsider | His words tumbled from his lips like a crowd of hundreds of people trying to squeeze through one small door to get to a Black Friday sale. Crashing into each other, over each other, stumbling blocks for the next one to leap over.
"No, please, no! Take it back! Take it back!" The ancient, fire-filled eyes were filled with something new. Fear. "Don't wish that! Un-wish it, now! Please! I don't have long until I have to grant it but there are a few seconds. Un-wish it now! Now!" The cool, uncaring tone that had filled his voice when he granted me power and money was gone now. Small bolts of lightning flashed around him, filling the air with the smell of ozone.
I was confused. Of all the wishes I could wish I thought this one, this wish, was selfless. I had everything I could possibly want so I thought that the third wish should be something good. Something unselfish. Something freeing.
"Why would you want me to un-wish it?" I asked him. Maybe this was a trick? Genies were said to be tricksters but he had granted my first two wishes flawlessly, why would he try a trick now?
"There's no time," he groaned, "Un-wish now or" his body shook and his voice wrenched forth from within him. "Granted." The earth shook with the power in his voice but I looked at him and noticed that his eyes were still filled with terror, terror and a kind of resigned emptiness.
The genie blinked. He waved his hand. His shackles fell from his arms. His amorphous tail became legs as he settled to the ground, and he became slightly smaller. He blinked. Once, twice. And then he looked at me.
Gone were the fires that were behind his eyes. Gone, the aura of electricity and mystique. Before me stood a man. Not even a particularly powerful-looking man. Just a man.
His gaze met mine as he sank to his knees. I watched as his body shriveled. As his hair grew. His skin first tightened and then wrinkled. He aged before me, growing years in seconds.
His eyes never left mine until the spark of life left his body and it fell to the floor. In seconds more he was nothing but dust and then seconds later not even that.
I never thought, even once, that granting a genie freedom would be anything more than a blessing to it. | I'd like something I can read to my kids. Always wanted to write a story they could illustrate so thanks for the prompt! :) Here goes.
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In the land of the fairies and sunshine and sweets,
There lived a young lady named Addy Elise.
She frolicked and played and read books and explored,
But on this fine day was exceptionally bored.
---
> "Mama" she asked "May I please climb the hill?"
> "I am terribly bored it would be such a thrill."
---
> "No you may not and for reasons you know."
> "You may *not* climb the hill I will *not* let you go."
---
Addy felt angry and sad and upset.
There was magic up there and on that she would bet.
So without any thought or regard or regret,
She went to the hill with Ralphie, her pet.
---
They climbed and they climbed until well after 3.
They climbed past their dinner and bedtime TV.
They climbed over obstacles, branches and rocks.
Ralphie complained "Just please, Addy, STOP!"
---
She paused for a moment and petted her friend.
Believing that magic was just round the bend.
She pleaded with Ralphie "Just please ten more steps".
And Ralphie replied "That is all that you get."
---
Onwards they went and they rounded the bend.
How right she had been for they found a new friend!
> "I am a genie" he said with a grin.
> "You may have three wishes not twenty or ten."
---
> "A genie? And wishes? I knew I was right!"
---
> "You must hurry up or we'll be here all night."
---
> "For wish number one I want freedom and fun."
> "I don't like the rules from my dad or my mum."
---
Poof it was done and the rules had all gone.
Wish number two "I want my own Swan."
Ralphie looked worried but soon it arrived.
Remarkably fast for a bird of its size.
---
> "And now" said the genie "your one final wish?"
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> "I wish that all genies no longer exist."
---
Astonished the genie recoiled in fear.
> "But why would you possibly wish that my dear?"
Ralphie looked sad and afraid and dismayed.
Upset with the wish that Addy had made.
---
> "But Addy!" he cried and he begged and he whined.
> "This genie of ours is a marvelous find!"
---
> "I know that Ralphie but you know it too."
> "If mommy finds out we'll have baby two."
> "He deals in dreams and grand wishes and magic."
> "If mommy found out the results would be tragic."
---
> "Your mommy and daddy both love you a lot."
> "They'd never wish that but it matters not."
> "For you my sweet thing are more special than others."
> "Your mom and dad cannot wish for a brother."
---
> "What do you mean? That's just what they'd do."
> "They'd wish for a brother and we'd have a zoo."
---
> "I'm trying to tell you my princess of tricks."
> "If it weren't for me you just wouldn't exist."
---
She gasped and turned to run away.
But Ralphie begged her please to stay.
---
> "So my princess, wish number 3?"
> "Shall I disappear and let you be?"
---
> "I know they love me and I've changed my mind."
> "I'd like it if please we could go back in time."
---
> "Just how far would you like my dear?"
> "Today? Yesterday? Sometime last year?"
---
> "Just after lunch just before we went climbing."
> "So we can tell mommy we love her, good timing."
---
EDIT: Holy mack I got gold. Wtf. You guys are fun! | 2014-07-26T14:32:50 | 2014-07-26T14:04:22 | 151 | 76 |
[WP] A group of aliens invade Earth only to find out what they thought was useless propaganda (action movies) actually down play how good humans are at killing.
Yes I know about HFY thank you for suggesting it | We were haughty and head-strong when we began the invasion. Our leaders knew that all of the transmissions had both a grain of truth and a grain of falsehood, but we'd already conquered half the Milky Way and were too hungry for more.
When we started obliterating their timid little colonies, we all patted ourselves on the back as they ran in terror back home. Our might was too strong for them, and we were assured complete and total domination. I remember there even being a national holiday declared for our newest victory. My mother bought me some sweets, and held me as high as she could with all of her arms. I was young then, I hadn't even sprouted proper eyestalks yet, but I could still see the arrogant gaze in the soldiers eyes as they waved to the crowd and marched along. Of course, back then we called it bravery.
Once we'd wiped out all the tertiary colonies, our might was focused on their home planet. At first, we succeeded. Large swaths of their population were wiped out. There was one general who'd seen a movie called Escape from...something, but he knocked out their communication satellites. Tactitians were already planning how best to ship our new slaves and crops to our various footholds around the galaxy.
We all remember the night it happened. The war was at year three or so - while we had might, it took a while for that might to be gathered. None of us thought particularly much of their intellect, what with their flimsy "shuttles" and primitive fuels. My dad was one of the first to spot it, and I remember my mother clutching the transceiver as my father described what was coming straight for him.
The shockwaves were felt all the way to the outer rings. Nobody knew how they did it, but it was all-consuming. Most of our fleet was scorched to nothing, with some lucky bastards escaping in battle scarred and highly unstable damaged ships. My father called it a bomb. Supposedly it had something to do with splitting up the very essence of matter. The humans were primitive, but they were primitives with a very, very strong weapon, killing us with the essence of life.
We fought back, of course, as hard as we could - but the bombs kept coming. Eventually, four years afterward, our forces were minimal and a retreat was called. It was the first retreat in recent history. All of us were somber as we watched our soldiers come home with bent stalks and burnt tendrils. How could this have happened to us? How could we have been beaten so thouroughly? There'd been hints of their ferocity, but this was beyond anything we'd imagined.
Our fleets carried so many dead home, and only a few live warriors. Ambassador Balrek declared a national day of mourning, and we started to collectively pick up the pieces. Soldiers were cared for, ships rebuilt, and for a little while, we ambled back to the status quo.
Then one night, much like the night they first struck, a ship appeared over Holm. We didn't stand a chance. None of us did.
We ran.
*They followed.* | **Earth Orbit - 1800 Zulu**
Sublieutenant Jax K'klen was worried. It showed in every quiver of his antennae, every twitch of his mandibles, and every word he spoke.
"A-are we sure this is going to work?" he stammered. "What if the natives actually fight back?"
"Nonsense, K'klen!" Sergeant Buklea exclaimed from his drop webbing. "You have seen their transmissions, no? Their greatest warriors fight entirely without support and without armor! This planet shall fall as swiftly as Rigel!"
"I suppose, Sergeant. But what about-"
He was cut off by the wailing of the drop-ship's klaxons and the irritating, gravely voice of the copilot.
"Thirty chrons to drop, people! Check your weapons!"
K'klen and the rest of his 50-Antaran unit quickly checked their equipment. They were all, to a man, carrying the latest in Antaran antipersonnel weaponry: the MQ-53 automatic rifle. It fired small-caliber rounds at an amazing rate, and had been responsible for every Antaran victory this far. Since the planet was sure to be a pushover, the Council had only issued the rifles, as any other weaponry could be seen as a waste of resources.
As he checked his weapon, however, K'klen couldn't help but feel anxious...
**NORAD - 1805 Zulu**
The atmosphere of the central control room was chilly. Aides ran about, and General McKellan strode over to the console of the lieutenant who had called him.
"Sir, are you seeing this? We've got unidentified contacts breaking orbit and moving through the atmosphere."
General McKellan nodded. "Yes, Lieutenant, I am. NASA has been tracking those contacts since they came into orbit. This is likely to be a first contact scenario. Bring it up on the main screen."
The main screen, positioned centrally on the wall opposite the consoles, sprang to life. It showed a map of the continental United States.
"Contacts are marked in red, sir." the lieutenant said.
No less than 10,000 glowing red dots hung ominously over the United States.
"Well hell, if this is an invasion force, and I don't see what else it could be, they're understrength! Someone get me the President."
Before anyone could, the lieutenant spoke up.
"General, sir? The ships are broadcasting something on all frequencies. Pulling it up now."
The map display faded out to be replaced with a video feed. The camera was focused on what could only be described as a praying mantis head. That illusion was dispelled when it's mandibles opened and it began to speak.
"People of Earth," it began, in a low rasp. "Lay down your arms and you will not be harmed-"
McKellan nearly exploded. "That tears it, it's an invasion force. Scramble every available fighter. I want those bastards dead before they set their ugly alien...whatevers on our soil!"
**Earth Atmosphere - 1900 Zulu**
Sublieutenant K'klen wasn't worried about aerial interception. After all, he had seen Top Gun! He knew that the enemy had to close to visual range to engage. And, if they did, the ship's automated cannon would tear them to pieces!
Had you asked K'klen, or any of his unit, what an AIM-120 was, they would have given you blank stares-before killing and eating you. As such, they were wholly unprepared for the radar-guided missile that slammed viciously into their drop-ship. K'klen was, mercifully, killed instantly as the missile exploded. The others aboard the ship, however, were not so lucky. They had to suffer the undignified death of falling to the surface of a foreign planet, screaming all the way down. This scene played out, with some variations, all across the globe, with Russian MiGs claiming the majority of the kills. In areas where there was no air cover, or where the planes had exhausted their ammunition, the drop-ships touched down-only to be met with combined arms, artillery, and very angry local civilians. Not a single Antaran survived more than twelve hours after the attack began. The ships that remained in orbit were soon subjected to the combined might of Russian and American ASAT weaponry, Cold War relics finally coming into their own. The Antarans had learned a perilous lesson-John Rambo was dangerous, but millions of lesser men all marching in step and following orders were even more so.
Sorry for any formatting issues or grammar issues-I'm on my phone, and this was a bitch to type. Please criticize, because I don't get to write fiction for an audience very much.
| 2014-09-20T17:48:03 | 2014-09-20T17:35:59 | 194 | 120 |
[WP] It's been two centuries since the world ended. You are a tribal hunting for food in the South Dakotan waste when you discover Mt. Rushmore. | “You never should have brought me out here, Reg.”
“Be calm, Rusbah. It won’t be much longer before we’re there.”
“But it’s cold and I’m hungry and—”
“Rusbah, you still have much to learn if you are to succeed me as shaman one day, as the Clan Mother has decreed. It may be cold, but better that than travel in the summer when the bears are out and the clans are at war.”
“I wish the gods lived closer to us.”
Before the elder Reg could reply to chastise Rusbah for his impiety, they entered the forest clearing and the beauty of the Gods’ Abode overcame them. The two were silent for a few moments, while Reg let Rusbah contemplate the wonder of the hallowed mountain he’d come to think of as a second home, making his winter pilgrimages there every year for the holy rituals. Finally, he spoke:
“The head you see on the right is the god Lingkhan. His provinces are charity, love, kindness, forgiveness and the harvest. He is my patron god, also. The shaman who trained me told me of how he freed an entire tribe who had been imprisoned by his own tribe. This caused his tribe to split into two separate clans, who fought a great war with each other until Lingkhan taught them forgiveness.”
Rusbah, all childish complaints about his shamanistic duties now forgotten, widened his eyes in admiration.
“Tell me about the other gods,” he asked.
“So eager to learn! You are a blessing to me, child. Look at the one to the left of Lingkhan. He is Rusbah, for whom you were named. He is the god of war, courage, the sun and the hunt. He is the best hunter who ever lived, and the shamans tell of when he performed a great miracle by making all of the tribe’s rotten meat fresh again. He also led his tribe to victory in a long and terrible war between all the tribes of the world, razing the cities of his enemies to the ground.”
Rusbah seemed fascinated to learn about his namesake and patron god, so Reg continued while he still had the child’s attention.
“Then there’s Jevvar-zahn, god of the law and the hearth. He is the great lawgiver, who told our forefathers how to live good and happy lives. He is said to have been a master of the Talking Marks, those strange marks that the Ancients made that they say told them words which we cannot hear.”
“My uncle says that they have many of those marks in the metal forests where he goes to hunt.”
Reg nodded. “That is why the metal forests are forbidden to all except hunters and the clan leaders: they hold many old secrets that must remain forgotten.”
Rusbah’s young face twisted into its endearing thoughtful expression. Reg continued:
“The next one is Washita, the Creator. He battled with the Red Gods of the Eastern Sea, and cut this land off from theirs so that our people might live under the just law of Jevver-zahn. He is the father of all people, the first Clan Patriarch. Every four winters, we make sacrifice to him at this mountain, as Jevver-zahn commanded.”
“And that one?”
“Which?”
Rusbah pointed to the fifth face, on the far left.
“We…,” Reg hesitated, “We do not speak of that one. Not until you are much older.”
Rusbah looked at him with curious and pleading eyes.
“But…,” Reg sighed, “I suppose since you are so eager to learn, I will tell you some.”
A solemn look passed over Reg’s face, then he began, “That is the Devil, the Destroyer. He does not live in Rushmoor, the Abode of the Gods; in his arrogance, he carved his own visage into the mountainside as a curse to the gods. Countless winters ago, before my great-great grandfather was born, our tribe had plenty; no one hungered, no one died young or in pain. Every man and woman was free. We lived among the gods, in the metal forests of old. But the Destroyer angered the gods, and incurred their wrath. In his arrogance, the very same that brought him to immortalize his face beside theirs, he fought back against the gods. He rained fire down upon all the world’s tribes with his magic weapon, the Nook, and used black magic to make his enemies sick with a deadly plague: the Pandimak. It is because of him that we live in misery today, and it is because of his evil taint that the old cities of men in the metal forests are forbidden.”
After a long silence, Reg and Rusbah arose and began the long, cold trek back to the tribal hunting grounds. | I can't help the feeling that we were all once greater than this. I didn't always have the dreams, but once they started I knew they were different. The human race is hardly more than a large pack of wild animals. I've spent all my life in the trees and I learned to hunt from my father.
Our family was well respected. My father, the closest thing our tribe had to a chief, was killed during a petty argument with one of his closest friends. I was boiling with rage and the tribe-elders saw this. Fearing violent revenge, they banished me from the tribe. For many days I sat under a tree angrily crying, yelling at the sky and cursing the names of my tribesmen. I wanted to kill them all. Top to bottom, they would all be dead. One night, I fell asleep and dreamt of a massive woman with a torch. She was surrounded by people who appeared to be worshipping her. Bright flashes filling the night all around her.
It wasn't until I noticed how thin I'd gotten that survival had even entered my brain. The dream had filled me with a sense of hope and I set off looking for a meal. Hunting alone was much more difficult than I had realized, which forced me to survive off berries and other plant-life. After one particular meal of berries I became very sick and made a small bed out of leaves in a small clearing at the base of a mountain. The spot felt safe and I decided to wait out the food poisoning.
After three days, my motivation had disappeared. My fate decided, I was ready to accept death. This was my lowest point. I felt incomplete, like something was missing. I couldn't help but feel it was all useless. I lived my life like my father and what happened to him? He was killed by a man he spent his life with. It all added up to nothing. My tribe didn't even have a home, moving around from camp to camp with the seasons. Now I had even less than that. With that thought I fell into a poison-induced sleep that could have lasted three more days.
I was walking down a beach, full of people. It was obvious from the beginning, they could not see me. The first thing I noticed was the brightness of the clothing. There were colors I had not seen before and they were uncomfortable to look at. Everyone there seemed to be smiling and laughing. There were families, friends and people by themselves. They appeared to be here for nothing but recreation and I felt a longing for somewhere I had never been before. Behind the beach was a skyline that could only have been in a dream. Massive structures that looked nothing like trees stood so high and shiny the world behind them was invisible. What struck me most was the amount of people. They were everywhere. My whole life I had probably only met or seen a couple hundred people. On this beach alone there were thousands. It was overwhelming to look at. All of a sudden I heard a rumbling noise behind me. I looked to the ocean and what I saw was terrifying. There was a wave the size of a mountain becoming closer and closer to the beach. It was growing in size and the speed was increasing. I looked back to the people and noticed that none of them were running. They all sat there as if they didn't even see the monstrosity. I started screaming and waving my arms wildly. I was begging for them all to run away, or they would surely be killed. I then remembered none of them could see me and turned around to face the wave. It was only fifty feet out now and I could never hope to outrun its reach. I closed my eyes and accepted my fate. I could hear the sound getting louder and louder until the wave was just about to crash down.
I awoke with a jolt, still in my leaf-bed at the base of the mountain. I don't know if I had slept long enough that my illness had disappeared, or the dream had injected me with energy; but I realized it was time to move. I felt this newfound desire to live and to build. There was something about this area that made me feel like laying down to die was the wrong decision.
With this newfound hope I moved onward, hunting and hoping I would encounter some other humans. After one particularly good meal, of roasted rabbit, I laid down to sleep. After a few minutes of restless tossing and turning I decided to continue walking and burn off my energy. I walked and walked, thinking about my tribe and my family. I resigned that I no longer wanted to feel hard feelings towards them. These dreams I was having made me feel there was more to humanity and our time on earth. Those people in my dreams were not concerned with survival and were living in a world full of great things. I yearned for this.
If some higher power was listening to me at that moment, I cannot say. What I can say is that I eventually looked up and saw something amazing. Amazing, terrifying, massive and purely unbelievable were all words to describe the faces looking down at me. Real, human faces that were identical to the real thing. I was shocked, I dropped my belongings and fell to my knees. Somebody had to have built that thing in the mountain. It could not have grown like that. I felt my hope slowly creep away and fear took over. What had happened? If society was great enough to build something like that why am I here and in this position? My resolve was weakening again, until I heard a rustling in the bushes beyond me. I grabbed my bow and nocked an arrow in lightning quick fashion, aiming at the source of the noise. To my surprise, a little girl came bolting out of the bush, being chased by three or four other young children. They were laughing and hollering until they came to me and stopped. The little girl came up to me and looked like she felt pity. She motioned for me to follow her and the children began to lead me onward. One handed me a small piece of bread that he had been nibbling.
My sense of hope was once again restored as these small children led me through the bushes and to their community. It was much larger than my tribe had been. They also didn't move around with the seasons. These people built permanent houses under the four faces, because it gave them hope. I plan to fully engrain myself in this society and I will go to sleep tonight dreaming of a bright future for my species. | 2014-09-24T07:59:40 | 2014-09-24T06:41:49 | 54 | 17 |
[WP] Two nations are at war; one nation, led by mages who specialize in healing magic. The other, a nation led by necromancers. Make the necromancers the good guys. | The tower was shaking again.
It had been 3 seasons past since the Gledri High Mages had discovered the ancient burial tombs of the previous builder race. 3 seasons since they discovered the war machines. 3 long seasons, full of more death than anyone, even the deep crypt priests, ever desired to witness. Many holds had been lost to the advancing golden army. The green cloaks were all but beaten, and with them, the nation of Dragons. The golden army had proven too relentless. The machines had proven too powerful.
One of the war machines was outside now.
Thomas was the only Death Wizard alive in the tower. He was rigidly sat on a step, a statue among the corpses that littered the floor. The corpses of allies. Friends. Family.
He was crying. You wouldn't be able to tell, were it not for the slight, yet steady, stream of tears that were rolling down the soft skin that covered his gaunt skull. It had been many days since he ate. It had been many days since he had moved. He had been sitting, waiting, focusing. He would need every single scrap of mental acuity he could muster, as what was about to happen would not be easy.
He was alone now.
He could feel the vibrations of the ancient device through the cold stone step on which he sat. It made his skin creep. He had tried to push the feeling from his conscious, but the previous builders were good. Very good. Too good.
He felt the pattern of the vibrations change, and for the first time in a long time, silence snapped through the room like the crack of a whip.
He was still alone.
He closed his eyes, and the tears started to ebb.
The silence remained.
He knew they were coming.
He took one last breath, and held it. He opened his eyes, and they shone out a brilliant green, scattering crisp light around the room that had been so dark. The bodies began to move, slowly at first, but with an almost accelerated sense of urgency. Dark flames were growing around them, burning away rotten flesh, and exposing bones. Clean, white bones. The flames began to dance around each new skeleton, and they turned to face the door.
Thomas was dead now.
But he was alone, no more. | It was never an easy form to fill. Well, I guess it was for some people. Ever since this debate started, and the VDD was instated, Josh hadn't been looking forward to turning in his. Now, with a pencil in hand and two boxes to tick, Josh hesitated.
His phone buzzed. Well, Josh took this as he took all things in life--an opportunity. In this case, and opportunity to procrastinate on his government paperwork and instead text Janie. "You're my hero" it read. Josh smiled, because he had already known he was heroic. In a flash of teen-boy bravery, he checked the box and flicked the paper off to it's destination. It disappeared with a small poof and Josh turned back to his chance at conquest. "I know" he replied.
***
30 years later Josh died in a drug accident at a rather raucous party. No more than Josh's usual fare but his dealer had given him a mislabeled transmute pill, leaving poor Josh with the liver of a donkey and a hummingbird's lung when the form wore off. It was a tragedy, but the story of his death didn't make it past the county, and though some partigoers and recreational formers were offput for a while, all was soon back to loud music, late nights, and back alley spells.
***
50 years later the waroom general paced about the landmodel. He waved a hand here and there, moving troops about the landscape. The aides, analysts, and casters all stood rigid, watching him pace. He stopped pacing in the southeast corner and addressed the room.
"We'll need 50 more regiments distributed here, here, and here" Multiple figures dropped from the simsky into various positions."
"50?" an aide whispered to a coworker. In the silence of the room, the general heard. He sighed. And waved both hands across the simsky.
"This is what we're up against" he said, with a note of fatigue in his voice. "Not just an army, an army of half-humans, of creatures that long since ceased to be anything but abominations of war. Those soldiers up there" he said, gesturing to the pictures and 3D representations that filled the simSky, "Use to *be* soldiers. Real human men like you or I. But look at them now. An injured arm here turned to a donkey's limb. Feet with talons, transculent organs of a worm. All those might be suffered in the name of preserving life. But look again, look to the things you can barely see. See that? The start of a ram's horn on the forehead. And there, a cheekbone transmuted to steel. And here, hair of the gorilla overtaking the face. You must remember, these are not mere cosmetic procedures. These belie a greater crime, one we all have seen. These "healers" are taking men's minds, men's souls. If our lives and deaths are to be anything, let it be this: that they are ours. So when I say 50 more regiments. I want 50 more voluntary deaths. It was their choice to enter into the database. It is our choice to honor their sacrifice now by beating back these abominations, by protecting human life itself."
The general paused a moment, let his shoulders sink. "This is our somber and unrelenting duty. We must fight. We will fight."
"You have your orders"
As the room scurried off at his command, a Citizen's department worker named Janie pulled up a new batch of names, and with as much attention as she was paying to her latest smack of gumchewing sent them off.
*Feel free to correct spelling, grammar, and formatting. Suggest edits, copy, or add to the story as you see fit.* | 2014-10-28T14:52:38 | 2014-10-28T14:29:56 | 34 | 13 |
[WP]You jokingly "bless" your towns water supply with friends. Shortly after 1 percent of the local population are reacting to tap water as if it were acid. | "What the hell did you do to the people of this town you sick sonofabitch?" The short-haired marshal racked the shotgun that was pointed at my chest. I'm not really sure why he did that, as a few cartidges tumbled to the floor. Not that I wasn't scared, I was terrified, but I couldn't help but notice.
"Whoa whoa, calm down, maybe it's not what it looks like." The longer-haired one chimed in, jumping out of their black four-door and jogging up to his partner. He was clearly the good cop here, and I was ab-so-lutely willing to cooperate.
"I swear it was just a joke! Chuck and Mischa dared me, and I since had a rosary, and a prayerbook in my backpack I couldn't really back down. I mean, blessing the reservoir didn't really DO anything to it, and I'm pretty sure that in the grand scheme of things, God has bigger things to worry about than just a little bit of blasphemy, but I didn't know that the US Marshals cared so much about it so PLEASE! PLEASE don't kill me!"
The long-haired one grabbed the prayerbook from my backpack and thumbed through the pages before stopping on the prayer. "You used this one? Huh. That's.... that's actually a surprisingly good choice."
"Wait wait wait wait. Sam. You're saying that chachi over here" He jerked his finger at me. "just accidentally ganked an entire city's worth of demons overnight? And it WORKED?"
The longer haired guy nodded, with a shocked and soulful look. "Yeah Dean.. I think that's exactly what he did."
"Kid.. You are freaking AWESOME." | *What is happening to me?* Those were the last words I heard Dave say as his tongue curled backwards into his shredded throat, and blood pooled and filled his mouth. His body shook in my hands and he let out a strangled whimper. A tear rolled down my cheek.
We were hanging out by the water tower, as per usual. Our town was too small to have fun things, we were too young and too poor to have cars. So we leaned against the cool metal of the tank and looked up at the stars. Jake began to pass a blunt, but I shook my head. Worries clouded my brain tonight, and I wanted to be able to think clearly.
"Looks like Matthew's being a little pussy tonight," Dave remarked nastily. A flask hung loosely in his rough hands, half-drained. I glanced at him apathetically. Inside, my blood raged.
"Aw, quit being an ass," Candy said. She was Dave's current squeeze. I don't really understand what attracts girls to Dave; he called himself a chick-magnet, but "flies caught in the spider-web" felt like a more appropriate metaphor. Candy was a nice enough girl, and I felt bad knowing that only misery, heartbreak and maybe an STI lay in her future.
"Did I tell you to talk, bitch?" Dave snarled. She fell quiet, and so did we. Dave was bad-tempered to begin with, and the alcohol made him violent. Jake and I could take his roughhousing, but we felt sorry for what Candy would get.
The moment felt tense, but Jake soon loosened it by making some bullshit remark about the quality of the weed we had, and Dave joined in. Candy and I exchanged a glance.
Suddenly, Dave pounded on the metal wall behind him, making us jump. "I have an idea," he announced. He jerked a finger at me. "Dude. You sucked church dick for a few years, right?"
I suppresses an urge to hit him. "I was a clergy-boy, yeah. The priests were actually quite--"
"I don't give a shit," he interrupted breezily. I closed my mouth. "I think...you should bless this water."
"Sorry, what?"
"Did I fucking stutter?" he demanded in a slur. He pounded on the metal again. "Let's see who's bad in this town. Bless this water so that...the sinners get...herpes when they drink it tomorrow!"
The moron had no idea what he was yammering on about. But it did give me an idea. "Ok," I said amiably. Candy and Jake looked at me, a little taken back. Dave grinned broadly.
I held a hand against the cold metal and began to recite gibberish that sounded vaguely Latin. Easily convinced a simpleton like Dave. Candy and Jake struggled to stifle their laughter.
But what none of them knew was that while blessing water was hard work, cursing it was easy. So as I held Dave in my arms, I smiled. And I cried tears of mirth that splashed and burned through his cheeks. He saw the look in my eyes, and tried to scramble away. But I held him tighter. To all those crowded around us watching, I must have looked like a grief-stricken friend. Only Dave had begun to understand. But it was too late for him.
Keeping my head low and shining face hidden, I closed his eyes for him.
| 2015-04-13T14:52:46 | 2015-04-13T14:03:50 | 66 | 48 |
[WP] You open Google maps and something looks different.. Alaska is missing. Everywhere you look online, there is no mention of it ever existing. | https://soundcloud.com/part-time-tunafish/alaska
**Alaska**
*[WP] One day, Alaska suddenly disappears from the Earth and every map.*
Alaska where'd you go?
You were there a moment ago
Was it just too cold
over there in the in the Fargo
Did you pack your bags
and leave the globe?
Suitcase and tags
Oh please, Say it ain't so
Hey mister,
have you seen my Alaska?
Alaska...
Tell me where did she go? | *alarm goes off*
I look at my phone, turn off the alarm and wait for my second alarm to go off because I'm lazy.
*second alarm goes off*
I turn of the alarm again, and slowly roll out of bed. I throw a shirt on and walk over to my computer to check if my professor canceled class again. He never cancels until the morning of the class. I open up Google, type in "g" for gmail, and attempt to open up my email. But of course, my half awake self miss clicks and click google maps instead. Oh well. I click new tab and open up may email. Of course, no email from my professor and I close the tab. Then I notice something weird, Alaska's not on the map anymore. That's weird, but I gotta get ready for class. I toss on some jeans, grab a hoodie, my wallet, and my phone. I'm about to leave when curiosity gets the best of me. I head over to my computer and refresh the tab. Alaska's still not there. I go type in Alaska into Google and it auto corrects to "Alaskan". Where the hell is Alaskan? Who cares, more importantly, where is Alaska!? Well Google isn't helping, time for plan b. Yahoo it is. I type in Alaska in again, but still Sarah Palin. Time for the last resort..... Bing... Actually, hell with that. I never used Bing, why start now. I gotta get to class anyways, and I'm already late thanks to my curiosity. I run down the stairs, open the door, and I'm half out the door when I finally realize..... Nothings there! Just, darkness. I jump back into my house, and run back to my computer. I have to do it... I need to... Use Bing... I type in Alaska. I get a 404 error. Great. Thanks for the help Bing. I look outside. Still nothing. That's how it all started. I somehow still have Wi-Fi, but I've been stuck in my house for the whole day so far. I guess Reddit it is for next while till I can find out what happened. Will update daily with edits. See you in 24 hours Reddit. | 2015-05-04T08:16:16 | 2015-05-04T08:08:07 | 54 | 12 |
[WP] Not everyone bitten by a werewolf gets to turn into a badass monstrosity. Some get stuck with other canine breeds. Describe the life of a werepug/werecorgi/werechihuahua, etc | So the were- isn't so much a species as it is a spiritual thing. Some sort of magic gone wrong. Specific to canines, just happens in a hilarious twist of fate canines have become our most varied creatures. Figure it worked well back in the day when almost all dogs were big wolffish hunting companions, but now...
Bruce's family had been Were hunters for centuries. Family legacy to protect the villages from the packs and stragglers that hunted them monthly. Family legacy when villages became cities, when cities become metropolises. When Weres went from fearsome beasts tearing out men's throats to... well Judy.
Judy the kind chatty barista from the coffee shop two doors down from his apartment. Judy who had mentioned getting bit by a strange dog last month right around where Bruce had fought a nasty trio of Were-Labradoodles. Judy who called in sick the first day of the full moon tipping Bruce off to track her down.
Judy the terrified looking Yorkie huddled in the alley.
Bruce lowered his gun and sighed. He sat down, patted the concrete beside him. The tiny dog slowly inched towards him, sniffing at his outstretched hand, letting out a babble of yips as she tried to speak. He patted her head softly.
"I guess I gotta explain some things."
| I used to love the sight of the moon, to just go out and see its white glow against the black lawns of the night. Now, I dread even thinking about the full moon. I don't know exactly when, but my big sister reported rushing me to the hospital for severe lacerations and blood loss. That in itself seemed weird, because she always seemed to take great pleasure in teasing and tormenting me, especially during my childhood. I thought it had passed once she, four years my senior, turned 18, but I guess I spoke too soon
But when I saw the light of the moon the first time after that hospital operation, I immediately felt sick. I didn't know why, but I felt myself wanting to vomit. I actually fell down on the floor that first time, feeling my nose and mouth get longer, feeling my ears get floppier, feeling some strange growth near my butt. When the pain stopped, I found that I was a quarter of my height, my nails had all turned into small claws, but my arms... where had they gone?! My legs too!!! It was basically like my hands had been glued to my shoulders and my feet to my pelvic area. I noticed a bit later that I did have arms and legs, but they were about the length of my foot.
My luck... truly took a turn for the worst when my sister came running into my room and found me. "...Arthur? Is... is that you?"
I couldn't talk to her, with my mouth now the way it was and my tongue being so much thinner. The only thing left to me was to nod my head, but I also couldn't help but give off sad whines.
"You...you're so cute! I missed playing fetch with you! We're gonna have so much fun together!"
Her tone... it didn't bode well. When she spoke of fun in childhood, it was usually because she enjoyed teasing me about something, and she would always pop out like a jack-in-the-box whenever I thought I was alone. I ran, but my pathetically short legs only got me a quarter of a normal human's step, and her gigantic form easily scooped me up in her arms.
"Lemme see, eeny meeny miney- there you are. Try and take this from me!" she taunted, dangling a ball-chain in front of my face. That... thing... was so annoying, I snapped my teeth at it, but she yanked it away.
"Oop, better try again!" This was just like when I was younger and she was much taller than me. She loved pulling that, especially with my favourite toys, and I'd try get them back furiously. After a while, she strangely enough got bored, and carried me to her bedroom, tucking miniature little me under her duvet.
"You know, my little weredachshund, I think I'm going to love these full-moon periods. Takes away what excuses you have left not to spend time with me!" | 2015-05-29T19:53:42 | 2015-05-29T19:03:14 | 232 | 20 |
[WP][TT] A pirate is saved by a blind kid. As gratitude, the pirate donates one of his eyes to him. The kid swears his life to the pirate and joins him. The beginning of the legendary pirates, the "Half-Eye" brothers. | "So those two over there, those are the half-eye brothers?"
"Aye, that's them."
"Huh. Always thought that was a yarn myself. A tall tale shared over a pint, or somethin' to pass the time on a long voyage."
"Naw, it be true, each an' every word."
"So the boy saved him, and in return he gave him one of his eyes?"
"Aye."
"And now they're both..."
"Dead an' buried, aye. T'were a sweet gesture true enough, an' tha sawbones, he tried his best. But in the end, that just ain't how modern medicine works."
| Graybeard, seventh of his name, eyed the one-eyes and shook his head. "You ain't no damned brothers."
The younger one smiled and looked up at the other. Graybeard had been sailing the seas since he was an infant, ship rocking on the waves in place of a crib rocking on land. Growing up in the shoes of his father, the Captain took command of his first ship at 12, going on to win several skirmishes by the time he gained another year, reaching 13 with two ships and one sinker under his belt. Yet, the name Graybeard wasn't feared half as much as the half-eye brothers. A malnourished man and a smiling damned child.
Graybeard waited for an answer, but the pair stood still. Fair enough, he looked around the ship he was chained to, they had no reason to oblige a prisoner after-all.
"We're brothers not in blood, but in heart." The taller one finally rasped out.
"What," Graybeard leaned forward as much as a man in a chain could do so, "you strip away half your vocal chords to?"
"I may have one eye," the boy said, "but I can see more clear than yourself."
Graybeard would have laughed had he not seen the weight with which the comment was said.
"Why is it you think we're so feared?" The tall one asked, stepping forward. "Us. a ship that takes no lives and only prisoners?"
Graybeard shrugged. "Your breath seems a reason to-"
He was cut off as the man rushed forward and pulled a dagger at blinding speed. Graybeard leaned back, but the blade caught him on the cheek and the man held it there for a moment.
"We make sure the *captains*," he exaggerated the plural sound, "are one step above the crew."
Graybeard looked around again, as much as his eyes could move under the strength of the man's grasp. The few men on deck were looking away, facing the seas.
"Ah," Graybeard whispered to himself. "Fuck the Gods."
With that, the blade shot up and under Graybeard's left eye. | 2015-06-01T11:10:26 | 2015-06-01T10:35:10 | 37 | 12 |
[WP] Find a click-bait article, and write something that actually lives up to its title (facts needn't be factual)
Link to the original appreciated. | [Everyone Is Losing Their Minds Over This Canberra Cafe’s Insane Milkshakes](http://www.buzzfeed.com/annamendoza/everyone-is-losing-their-minds-over-this-canberra-cafes-insa#.sy5K7n72M)
Canberra, Australia - Over 70% of regular customers at the Canberra cafe,
Pâtissez, were admitted into mental institutions over the past several months so why on Earth would people continue to go there? This small cafe in the capital of Australia has created a milkshake so delicious, it will make you lose your mind. No, you will not lose your mind because of the flavor, but rather because of the ingredient. Bill Kramer, manager of the increasingly popular cafe, recently said that a main ingredient in the milkshakes is mercury.
"The only way to really capture that flavor that brings the customers back is to combine the chocolate and mercury in a melting pot for at least 3 days. The allegations that the mercury is causing mental breakdowns in our frequent customers is unsubstantiated. There are many other ingredients that we include in that melting pot including caramel, simple syrup, and peanut oil. We are currently investigating which of these ingredients could be causing the recent spike in mental deterioration however we firmly believe that mercury in small doses can actually be good for you" says Mr. Kramer.
We talked to Cambridge Chemistry professor, Richard Balck, to find if there was truth in Mr. Kramer's statements.
"No."
When asked to expand on his answer, professor Balck placed his head in his hands and said, "just... no. No no no. How is this even a question in today's world, no."
In recent developments at cafe Pâtissez, owner, Bill Kramer, has stated that they have removed peanut oil from the mix and replaced it with vegetable oil in "an attempt to be considerate to those with peanut allergies and to hopefully end the allegations that [their] milkshakes cause deterioration of brain matter." | [Arya Stark and Harry Potter Have Taken the Selfie of All Selfies Together](http://www.buzzfeed.com/kimberleydadds/arya-stark-and-harry-potter-together-omg#.om4B4JPvp)
New York – As reports continue to pile up on riots and church burnings following the sudden appearance of Harry Potter and Arya Stark in our actual physical world – proving beyond question that magic is, indeed, real and that
Starks are now so scared of dying they're actually running away from Westeros and into our reality – the world now
has to deal with the repercussions of the actions of these two very unique beings. Just recently the wizard and the Stark girl released online what scientists now believe is 'the selfie of all selfies'.
"I don't see how other selfies can even exist now", photographer Sebastiao Salgado told Buzzfeed, in an exclusive
interview. "There is really no more point in photography as an art, really. It's like, why bother?"
Could it really be that Harry Potter and Arya Stark's selfie has single-handedly ended selfies for everyone? We went to the streets to listen to what people had to say about this.
"It's ridiculous", Janice, from Austin, Texas, told us. "First these magical *folks* show up here, screwing with our
Christian way of life. How am I supposed to get my son to go to church when there's an actual wizard doing
magic out in the streets? And now they're telling us we can't take selfies anymore? I mean I don't know what
selfies is, but I sure as hell don't want my right to take them violated."
Another concern about Harry and Arya's selfie, scientists now say, is the risk that it is so awesome it might actually create a black hole and swallow our universe without warning.
"It's certainly a possibility", Neil DeGrasse Tyson said, in a conference regarding the matter. "Have you seen the selfie? It's unbelievable. We're currently studying the behavior of photons and quarks around it using a variation of the double slit experiment. Everything points to the fact that the bits that compose the picture don't actually respect the rules of classical physics or quantum, but rather a new set of rules still unknown. It might be that this selfie is too awesome for our universe. We should be careful."
Stephen Hawking is another one who believes the selfie is not safe. "I mean you can't just put a wizard
and a Stark in front of a camera and take a selfie. There are repercussions. People's minds might actually,
physically blow. Gravity might shift. Our universe simply isn't ready to deal with that", he told Buzzfeed.
Yes, magic is real and Starks are coming to the Earth, and a selfie might explode the whole universe. These are strange times, indeed. One thing is certain, though – Harry Potter and Arya's selfie is, definitely, the selfie of all selfies.
On a related note, earlier this morning Ellen Degeneres tweeted, "Well, go fuck yourselves, then", regarding the
matter.
_______________
EDIT: Well, it seems that, since I've linked to this article, they've changed the title to the much less impressive 'Arya Stark and Harry Potter Have Been Hanging Out Together.'
My article stands, though. If you're gonna call a selfie The Selfie of All Selfies, you better damn stick with it, and I'm going to. Shame on you, Buzzfeed.
Also, for more things I write because I need the approval of strangers on the internet to feel validated as a human being, check out /r/psycho_alpaca
| 2015-07-13T08:05:51 | 2015-07-13T05:46:12 | 169 | 102 |
[WP] After dying, you're shown a "Choose Your Own Adventure" style decision tree which highlights all the paths your life could have taken should you have made various different choices. You spend all of eternity analyzing this tree, only to finally realize that something just isn't quite right. | Part 1
At first, it was black. And then a screen started to flash.
>At age three, you had two options. At daycare, there was a harelipped boy named Derek. You could either befriend him or ignore him.
>You decided to befriend him.
>(?) Derek will remember that.
Oh, Derek. I remember the antics that we'd used to do. We'd try to pull all sorts of pranks on our teachers, and when we hid a winter coat under Mrs. Sharp's desk, she'd say that in her 25 years of teaching, no one had scared her as much as an inanimate object. Good times, man.
>At age 12, you started to pick up the piano. Unfortunately, your father was laid off, and your teacher had passed away. You could either continue to play or abandon it.
>You continue to play.
>(?) They will remember that.
I wanted to continue playing piano. I didn't think I should stop to any obstacle, lest my hands by crushed by a meteor during the rupture.
>At age 16, you met this cute girl, Kate. You were mesmerized by her. The way her hair flowed, the way she laughed, the way she spoke Czech, and the way she could play the piano.
>You asked her out
>(?) She will remember that.
She was a lovely girl, and I was glad I could take her to prom. I was glad that I could love her for five years. We broke up, sure, but it was only because we naturally drifted apart, rather than due to some horrible fight.
>At age 25, you faced an option. You could either continue to stay in Indianapolis, or you could board a flight to Beijing, and from there a train to Xian. Either way you'd continue with your passion of music, but in Xian you could do it in an entirely new and exotic setting.
>You chose to move to Xian.
>(?) Your family will remember that.
I was getting a little restless. There was so much of this world to see, to experience. And it would be a shame to let it go to waste.
I had been interested in Chinese culture for a long time. I always tried to include a piece based off of this Chinese piano book Derek had gotten me when I was 18. And so I finally wanted to experience this for myself.
>At age 30, you decide that you want to settle down. After seeing a lot of China, Hong Kong, Taiwan, South Korea, Japan, and even Mongolia, you could either choose to stay in China, or go back to America. Back to home in Indianapolis. Either way, you'd need to settle down.
>You chose to settle down in Indianapolis.
>(?) You will remember that.
I had met this wonderful girl, Mei Lin, in Xian. And I realized that although I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, I’d need to settle down to do that. She wanted to live with me too, and her family wanted her to live with me in America. So we went back to Indianapolis.
I had continued to play with the city’s philharmonic orchestra and continued to perform with my university. At 65, I made the decision to retire.
At age 70, I was diagnosed with terminal cancer. I knew I didn’t have much time left, but I was ok with that. I had lived a long, exciting, and fulfilling life. In the last few months of my life, I was surrounded by people that I loved. My family, my friends from school, college, work, and China, Derek, and my students. And I was ok with that. | When a man first explained the purpose of the Tree of Choice to me, a game of hot and cold came to mind. Withered winter branches on the left side of the tree, was the path of life I was furthest from when I died, and summer—evergreen since I arrived—the life I led.
I sighed loudly, grabbing Linda’s attention. She sat on the ground, looking at the paths between autumn and spring. On round shaped fruits, the pictures of our lives moved, taunting us with what could have been.
“Found something?” she asked, holding her arms up and bending her back in a stretch.
“No, nothing new.” Regrets in life led me to look at my choice of work, or fights with old girlfriends. When, in fact, the first day of kindergarten affected my life the most. Running over and kicking Jim for being mean to Macy, shifted me from winter all the way to spring. Macy turned out to be a meth head and Jim the model father of four. I still stood by my decision. Jim was an insufferable asshole all the way through high school, and probably long after.
“I knew it would be that bastard who’d ruin me,” Linda said, as she did every day and sometimes more than once, “but look there, four children with Bill. Four!” She pointed up, knowing very well that I could not see what the tree showed her.
I nodded. Linda died at the age of 78, childless and bitter. She was no longer 78, but boy, was she bitter! “Mhm,” I murmured.
I walked around to the summer side, and I stabbed my finger through the jellylike fruit. It popped.
A wet street opened up before me, cars swooshing past. Heels beat against the concrete sidewalk behind me. Her hands—icy—covered my eyes.
*Guess who!* I recalled Hannah’s words before she managed to utter them. Flicking my cigarette into the street, I turned. Before my eyes fell on her, I saw the man, who had first led me to the tree, standing across the street. He wore a hat and glasses but I would recognize his mousy face anywhere.
I shuddered, withdrawing my finger from the fruit.
I poked another. Graduation day. My eyes could only move to where they had already. Nothing could change, not even a gesture. The picture just repeats. I walked up the steps, smiling and looking at the crowd trying to find my parents. Back row, in the middle, the mousy man clapped. I left the vision, my mouth hanging open.
Moving to the autumn side, I stuck my finger not looking to see which it was. Cold winter night, Hannah and I were under a blanket, watching TV. I didn’t see him, so I left.
*Fair enough, that doesn’t prove anything.* He could be outside the house. There was no way to tell. I poked my fingers through a different vision. We were in a park. I look around. Hannah’s voice registered in my ears, but I miss what she said. The man isn’t there.
“Linda,” I said. She looked up lazily, and gestures *what* with her hand. “Go back to a memory. A real one. Tell me if you see that man that opened this room for us.”
A crease formed in her sharp brow. “You were brought in by someone else.” Still, she stood and walked around to the summer side.
“Just check if whoever brought you in was there.”
He only appeared in the visions of my actual life. I frowned, wondering what the hell that meant. Linda ran around the tree, going through the visions faster each time.
“Those bastards,” she said before sticking her finger into another fruits. I didn’t respond, knowing better than to talk while she is inside. My heart beat faster. Rubbing my fingers nervously, I waited for Linda to return.
“Kid,” she said, even though we were now around the same age based on our looks, “I think this tree’s a sham.”
“What do you mean?” I wasted so much time here, watching every vision, every memory in regret. Mostly, just to see Hannah’s face before it turned sour to the very sight of me.
Linda smiled grimly. “It means that there is no alternate path. Those men, in their hats and their glasses, they’re there to make sure we follow just one.” She moved around the tree pointing at one of the fruits.
I hated when she did that. *I couldn’t see!*
“Right here, I tried to leave my husband. The only vision where the man actually moves across the street is exactly when fear overcame me, and I changed my mind. Right there on the spot.”
I tried to think of another explanation, but couldn’t. Not one that I could argue with.
Green leaves formed on the withered tree. I looked at Linda, who took a step back with a scowl of suspicion on her face. The yellow leaves of autumn turned green too. All the fruits fell to the ground, shattering like glass. One fruit grew in the center, the size of a watermelon. Through it, I saw my mother, holding me in the hospital. My father leaned closer her to look at me, his hand on her shoulder.
******
Thanks for reading!
More of my work can be found here: /r/AlinaKG
| 2016-03-26T11:31:36 | 2016-03-26T10:48:28 | 70 | 21 |
[WP] After you die you get reincarnated into what you've killed the most of. | I awake into a dark consciousness. I'm blind, and deaf, but I don't know whether that's me or my surroundings. I can feel though, a multitude of wriggly bodies, slipping and sliding over each other. I find I can move with a sort of spastic swimming motion. I have no arms or legs, but I don't feel I need them. There is, though, a yearning. An urge to progress, to move forward. To climb to the top of the pile. The wriggly mass I belong to surges, as if there's a pressure building. I fight my way up, up; through the others to a vague but vital destination. I must beat them. I must get there first.
All at once, the gates open. With more effort than ever before, I swim as fast as I can. I can sense the others around me, and I know somehow which way is the right way. I push and push, faster, passing up the rest though there are still some ahead of me. I must make it.
I must go faster.
Like a bird flying south for the winter, like an ocean turtle migrating, I can feel my destination getting closer. I am filled with an urge like never before, like my entire existence is built on this one thing. I have to move faster. I have to beat the others.
I have to reach the egg first. | I'm not scared to die. In fact, I'm curious about it. I want to know what it will feel like. What kind of pressure will build up in my lungs as I take my last breath? Will death creep from my toes and inch up my body until only a pinhole light remains in my pupils? Or will it be sudden?
I got the diagnosis 6 weeks ago. Stage 4 pancreatic cancer. Let's be honest though, I knew something was wrong before then. I'm skin and bones, my skin is papery and thin and my complexion is a mix of gray and yellow. I've had time to contemplate life, get scared, be bitter and accept it. My life is nothing phenomenal. If I had to list my goals and accomplishments I may be able to muster a participation ribbon. No wife, no children. Hell, I don't even own a cat. I inhaled the stale complacency of a corporate job for 34 years but never managed to work my way up the ladder.
I had dreams of something better. That's all they were - dreams.
Since I was a child I had the habit of dismissing dreams before they could get any further than my mind. I've been burdened with cynical realism. I'm not talented, athletic, handsome, charismatic or even likable. I'm my own murderer. I've suffocated the life I had the opportunity to live and now I lie alone in this hospital bed with my trophies of wasted dreams and ambitions.
It's been four hours since a nurse checked my vitals. At the end of her shift she enters my room. She looked at me like I couldn't see her. I have no control over my body. My mouth stays dry and agape and my yellow glazed-over eyes remain fixated on the ceiling.
I think death creeps. It feels like I'm being dipped into cold water and the water is going higher and higher. I can't remember the last time I took a breath. The nurse grabs my wrist and stares at the clock. After a few seconds I hear her whisper, "3:47 am."
I walked out of the room with her and stood quietly as she talked to another nurse. "I need Dr. Avery to pronounce the patient in room 245. I'm heading home for the night. Will you contact the next of kin?"
I'm in room 245. Did death really just come and go? Why am I stuck in this miserable hospital? I followed the nurse home and looked away as she undressed, showered and went to bed. I whispered to her while she slept. "Let's go on a beach vacation. Somewhere like Bora Bora. Sip a fruity cocktail and step into the warm water." Her eyes twitched and she took a deep breath. In an instant I was there with her in a vacation we dreamt of together. The following night we went sky diving. I have to admit, I enjoyed it a bit too much. I jumped in excitement and when I landed she was startled awake.
I spent an entire lifetime killing my own dreams and now my only existence is to compose them for others.
| 2016-09-05T19:44:52 | 2016-09-05T19:22:47 | 30 | 18 |
[WP] Your home is being invaded, fortunately you are armed with the BEST home defense system available: A 36 year old Macaulay Culkin who's tired of this shit. | Two five second long bursts of absolute noise, around five or six seconds long each, then two thuds. No noise quite like that occurs naturally in nature, so when a compact submachine gun with an extended clip filled with hollow point rounds barks twice in the middle of the night like some lion-dog made of thunder and damnation, you wake up and you see what's going on.
Your hallway is a nightmarish mess. Gory splatterings coat the walls and rug. Macaulay Culkin, high on the stench of gunpowder and death, claps both hands on his cheeks and makes the iconic face we all know and love, while you try not to scream or pass out or puke.
The expression slowly drains to bitter resolve. His hands drift away from his face, leaving only two bloody handprints. Two burglars lie so very, very dead on the ground. Torsos shredded by far more shrapnel than necessary, they silently bled as Macaulay packed away his gun and brought out his cleaning equipment.
In about a day, all that's left of the two teenagers who broke in on a dare is a faint discoloration in the rug. Your family and friends all knew what happened, though they wouldn't speak of it. After that night, you were truly home alone. | "So you're telling me, you knew this was going to happen?"
"Right," I said, nodding, "that bastard Mike had threatened me last night that he was going to come into my house, and, I quote, 'kill you so hard, that you'll die again.'"
Culkin frowned at that, "Die...again?"
I shrugged, "Mike's not the brightest guy, I guess all of it went into his biceps and ego."
"Whatever man," Culkin said, shaking his head, "but my question is, why call me? Like, I don't know, why not call the *fucking police,* you know, whose job it is to deal with stuff like this."
"I mean, you came though," I pointed out.
Culkin exploded out of the chair he was sitting in and loomed in front of me. It would've been sufficiently intimidating, had it not been for his wiry frame and death pale skin. "I thought this was some kind of joke one of my friends set up, and we were going to have a laugh about it and drink or smoke, I didn't expect some god damn lunatic!" Culkin was shouting towards the end.
I held up my hands in a placating gesture, "look man whatever, just me help me get rid of this asshole, and we can all go our separate ways, yeah?"
Culkin started to massage his temples. "Look, Joe-"
"It's John, actually," I said.
Culkin shot me an irritated glance, and continued, "-John, whatever, Home Alone was a *movie.* It was all props and stuff, none of it was actually real."
I frowned, "not real?" Realization suddenly dawned on me. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry!"
"*Finally*," Culkin gasped and looked tiredly up to the ceiling.
"You've just forgotten all your tricks. I mean, it has been years since you last did it right, like, what, twenty years? No need to be embarrassed man, it's totally natural to forget things."
Culkin looked at me with narrowed eyes, "you...you can't be serious."
I put my hand on Culkin's shoulder, and he flinched. I continued in my soothing voice, "It's only 3 pm, home invaders don't really come in the day, so we can watch Home Alone 1 & 2, I'm sure it'll come back to you!" I looked at him expectantly, waiting for his excited reaction.
Culkin opened his mouth to say something, then frowned. "I.."
Then he shook his head and walked out the door.
Huh.
Maybe I could call the Wet Bandits? They might know how to deal with things like this. Think like a criminal and all that.
***
(minor edits)
If you liked this and would like to read some serious stuff, check out my new subreddit [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) | 2017-01-13T09:51:12 | 2017-01-13T08:58:23 | 26 | 10 |
[WP] At 14, every human gains the ability to transform into their spirit animal. Your noble family, comprised entirely of wolves, isn't happy with your transformation... | 3...
2...
1...
*SSSSSSSsssss*
The hiss of mist flew up around me and when it faded I looked into the mirror, the same my all my forefathers looked into to first look at their wolf-ly animal self for the first time.
"I don't believe it." said my mother.
My father didn't say anything. I think that was worse.
Staring back at me were dark but watchful eyes. My coat was coarse and my nose was wet. My ears were perked with curiosity and shock. I wrapped my tail around me back paws nervously as I looked back at myself. I was not a wolf like the rest of my family. I was a fox.
The party was not very fun after that.
...
...
When I lay in bed that night I just wanted to forget the day. Grandfather was furious. My sister cried. Father left the house and hasn't returned since. My mother just shook her head. Only my great-grandfather said nothing, but he was old, and most of us had thought he had lost his sense and hearing long ago even before my sister shifted into a wolf for the first time.
*I wish it had never happened* I thought to myself. I pulled the covers over me a little tighter and rolled over. To my surprise, great-grandfather was standing there in the doorway. He approaches the bed and sat down.
"You are probably very disappointed," he said in a crackly whisper. "But there is nothing to be ashamed about."
"But how could I NOT feel shame? I'm literally the only one in the family that's not a wolf. I'm a disgrace."
"You are a fox, not a disgrace." He said. He had a way with words that made everything always seem like it would be alright, as if he had lived through and conquered all of life's problems. "The fox is wise and cunning. Graceful and stealthy. Agile and quick."
I lay in silence, staring into his stony gray eyes that had seen so much over the.. what was it now, a century?
"I will let you in on a little family secret. I haven't told a soul this secret." He said. "Now I have only seen this once when I was very small, but I know what I saw."
I sat up in bed.
"You have always been observant and patient. You like to learn and even play practical jokes when you can. This reminds me a lot of MY grandmother." He said.
"When I was very small, I was playing by the river while my grandmother was washing our clothes. I wanted to catch a fish with my bare hands like I saw my father do once. My brother did it as a wolf, and I wanted to be just like them. But I was only a few years of age, so I fell in! I was swept up with the current but my grandmother jumped in and rescued me as her spirit animal. I still have dreams of that fox pulling me out of the river and scolding me to no end."
My eyes got wide and I audibly gasped. "So my great great.... great? grandmother wasn't a wolf?"
He chuckled and his stony eyes lit up. "Yes. She was a fox like you. Observant. Swift. Light on her feet. Quick to make smart decisions. She was a remarkable lady and we all loved her dearly. Being a fox is nothing to be ashamed about child."
He took his leave and I thought about what he told me. I fell asleep feeling a little better, and even had a dream of a fox rescuing me from a river. | I wanted to dance, and jump, and sing, but the looks on my parents' faces stopped me cold. I had transformed, rather ungracefully, and stood before my parents, expecting them to be smiling and clapping after they saw me in all my glory, but their faces had fallen. Their smiles vanished and their hands didn't move from their sides. The noise I made in confusion was not the huff of a wolf, like I had heard from my parents many times before, but instead it was a snarl. A thick, feline snarl that caused everyone in the room to step back in fear.
My strength faded and I shifted back soon after, my own body shutting down on itself and causing me to collapse. When I came to, I was in my bed, but still in the ceremonial gown I was wearing earlier, and the light that filtered through my curtains was the soft glow of a full moon.
From the hall I heard voices, two voices belonging to my parents, who were vehemently arguing. I crept as quietly as I could up to the door to my father's office, and I laid an ear against the cool wood.
"...our daughter, Bjorn!" My mother's voice was sharp. "We knew this day would come-"
"And I intend to face it head on, like we were warned." He snapped. Normally when my father was angry, his tone was more irritated than completely enraged, but the way he spoke to my mother was unlike anything I had ever heard. Something had made him furious, and my stronger sense told me that it was my transformation. But why would he be angry about that, and not proud?
"Warned?" My mother laughed. "Some gown-wearing hooligans stroll into town, give you this 'warning' that someone in our family will be a danger to us all, and you just listen?"
My father shouted, and as he shouted, it rolled over into a howl that prickled the hairs on my neck. Glass shattered and my mother yelped. Fear pounded through me as I struggled to decide what to do. The door was locked, and if my father had pounced on my mother, then she was trapped in there with an angry wolf who sometimes lost control of himself. I knew the stories as well as my siblings did. Sometimes, if people spend too much time in their spirit-animal form, they start to... lose the human side of them, and they begin to take on the instincts and personality of their beast form. After that, they'd be more animal than human, and would have to be put down.
Wood cracked and splintered from inside the room, and as I heard another cry, I began to panic. I didn't want someone to call the guards, but I didn't want to handle this on my own. Before I could come to a decision, the fear decided for me. I felt the same adrenaline course through my veins that I had during the ceremony, and my bones started to shift and fold. As soon as it had begun, it was over, and I looked around with sharper vision, my fear having been replaced with energy.
With all my might, I barreled through the door, tearing it off its hinges, and two heads snapped upright to glare at me. One was the human face of my mother, blood dripping from her skull, and the other was the snarling wolf-face of my father, whose dark gray eyes were almost camouflaged against his thick black coat. He growled a deep, warning growl that meant I should leave, but the way his eyes stared into mine kept me in my place. He didn't even recognize me, I could see it.
"Marinda." my mother wheezed, her eyes glancing from me to my father. "Get out of here. Please. I'll handle this."
I whined at her and took a step forward, but my father was quick to block me.
"Marinda." My mother cooed my name as gently as she could. It only made me want to help her more. "Please, just go. Go to your uncle's house and wait for me there. I'll be okay, sweetie."
As bad as I wanted to stay and help her, to maybe try and convince my father to stand down, I knew that it was foolish. I was only 14, and he had far more experience than I in using his animal-form. Already my strength was fading, and if it weren't for the adrenaline that had fueled my break-in, I might have already shifted back. Ignoring my mind's pleas to stay and fight, I turned away from my parents and pushed as hard as I could off my back legs, propelling myself down the hall. I only caught a few glimpses of myself in the mirror, a mainly white coat, striped in black down the back, and eyes the color of ice.
I tore through the front door and landed on all fours in the wet grass, the moonlight casting strange shadows every which way. My strength was waning, but I had made a promise to my mother, and I intended to keep it. I would wait for her. The last thing I heard as I cut through the night were the painful howls of my father losing every last bit of humanity he had. | 2017-01-21T20:02:50 | 2017-01-21T18:59:29 | 215 | 19 |
[WP] You're a bartender at a cheap pub. Every night the same patron comes in, sits at the end of the bar by himself, and orders a single beer. He never says a word to anyone, and always leaves after just one beer. Tonight you decide to buy him a shot and see if you can get him talking. | ”It’s on the house,” was my response to his raised eyebrow.
The man shifted on the bar stool and nodded. Over his prominent jawline, the face was rough and uneven with dark nooks and crannies – it was as if whoever had sculpted him had dropped the chisel before completing the job. The man came here every night without fault and always ordered a glass of Heineken. I made sure nobody needed my immediate help before leaning against the counter in front of him.
“So, what’s your story?”
“You know,” he said with a shrug. “The usual.”
“Oh, come on, got to be more than that, eh?”
The man twirled the shot glass between his thumb and index finger. A muscle twitch at the corner of his mouth was the only crack in the poker face. I felt like he wanted to tell me something but it was impossible to be sure.
“It’s pretty calm here tonight,” I ventured. “Would you like some tunes?”
“It’s fine.”
Still fidgeting with the shot glass, his eyes returned to the beer. He stared down into the frothy amber liquid. For some reason, I was desperate to know his story, but I let him be for the time and went to dry off some dishes. When I returned a few minutes later his beer glass was empty, but he still hadn’t touched the shot. I had a plan now.
“We got other things than tequila if you don’t like it,” I said.
“Oh, no,” he muttered. “I was just about to leave, anyway.”
From that moment everything that happened turned into a gooey show of slides that seeped together in a chaotic mess. The doorbell chimed. A man in a ski mask entered. A gun was shoved in my face. People were screaming. One shot went off. White plaster rained down from the ceiling.
“Money! Now!”
The world around me shuddered and returned to normal speed. The gun was pointed at my head. I took a deep breath. I could handle this. Nobody needed to get hurt here. I showed the robber my hands and then reached behind the counter.
As I was scrambling to retrieve the money from the registry, another shot went off. I hit the wall behind the bar. I clutched my stomach; blood was seeping through my fingers. The robber’s eyes went wide in horror, before taking off at full speed.
The man with the rough face stood over me. “Are you ready, Evan?”
“R-ready?” I said, coughing up a mouthful of blood.
“You need to make a choice,” he said. “Stay or go?”
“Who are you?”
My vision was going blurry. Through my tears it looked like the man’s trench coat was flowing, almost like a dress or cloak, and dark shadows seemed to sprout from his shoulders.
“You have to make a choice, Evan.”
“Stay!” I blurted out.
“So be it,” the man said.
I blinked. I was standing behind the counter. The man was twirling his shot glass between his thumb and index finger. He looked at me; a muscle twitched in the corner of his mouth.
“This was a good day for you to be generous,” he said and downed the shot.
*****
/r/Lilwa_Dexel
EDIT: Amber liquid staring context | '*It's gotta be something,*' I thought to myself as I eyed The Stranger from the other side of the bar. '*Gotta be something. He's been doing this for years now. What's he hiding.*' I could hear several snooker balls collide with each other, breaking my concentration momentarily. I looked over to see patrons laughing and lightly slapping each other on the back in congratulations, before I turned my eyes back to The Stranger. For a split second our eyes met. I nervously ducked my head and pretended I was busy with something else.
'*Alright, just be cool, don't make this weird,*' I could feel my heart beat slightly faster as I continued to think to myself. '*Don't be nervous. This is part of the job! The barman who gives helpful advice and cleanses people of their worries. I'll give him a shot, get him talking, we'll heal him up nice and good.*' I poured one of our finer alcohols into a small glass and held it neatly in my hand. For a few seconds, I was proud of myself, as I walked it over to The Stranger.
'*I don't even know what I'm doing with my life. What am I actually gonna say?*' I put the drink down in front of him. I could feel my mouth run slightly dry, as he glanced down at the drink and then up to my eyes.
"On the house, mate. You're here everyday." I smiled warmly and nodded, as he continued to stare at me with a single raised eyebrow.
"Cheers." He said, before grabbing the drink, throwing it down the back of his throat in a single gulp, and placing the now empty glass on the counter. His eyes met my gaze again for a few seconds, which felt like years, as I stared blankly.
"You're here a lot." I say with a slight chuckle. "Service isn't that good, I know that. Why you always here?"
"Can't I just have a drink?" Slight disdain rattled his voice as he spoke.
"Yeah, yeah, course, but uh..." My words trailed off as I continued to look at The Stranger, who was know becoming visibly annoyed.
"I just like having a beer after work. Misses thinks I finish at six, but I finish at five. I come here, have a beer, go back home to listen to my children yell and scream about everything and anything, and I go to sleep next to a woman I fell in love with." His eyes felt like daggers. He hadn't blinked once as he talked. "Not everyone is a sad story."
"Yeah, I know that, I was just. Checkin'," I replied, nodding to myself.
"No, you're right, I must be damaged. What actually happened is my family's dead. Bad car crash, killed em all. I sit here every night after work wondering to myself 'How could I not save them? Am I so weak? Please, God, make that random man I don't know console me on things he'd never understand.'" A small and devious smile broke across his face, before a few laughs came. "Cheers for the drink mate."
With those words he slapped a few dollars onto the table, stood up and left. I stood and watched him leave, cursing myself for whatever I was attempting to do.
Hours later The Stranger arrived home. The insides were dark, quiet, and lifeless. He locked the door behind him and flipped on a few lights, before quickly turning them off again after they hurt his eyes. He slowly trudged forward, dropping his briefcase onto the ground, along with the thick coat he had wrapped around himself. He sniffed and cleared his throat and turned into the Kitchen.
He opened the fridge to find nothing, as usual, before moving into the hallway and walking towards his bedroom. He came to a doorway on his left and stopped. He stood in silence, closed his eyes, and waited. Waited for the rage. Waited for the anger. Waited for the sadness. He looked inside to see a child's room, pristine in every way, not touched in years; except for the small specs of dust accumulating on everything. He looked at all the toys his daughter played with. The chalkboard she used nearly daily to pretend she was a Teacher. Showing her stuffed animals the words she had learnt to spell, the numbers she could twist into new ones, and the doodles that only a father would find any good.
He swallowed a large glob of spit and moved forward. He came to his master bedroom. The gigantic bed, too big for one man, but so small without his wife. He laid down, and stared at the ceiling, choking on tears that came every night in waves. The exhaustion from crying took over his body in time.
He fell asleep, knowing not everyone is a sad story.
But he was.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you liked this, check out /r/Rhysyjay | 2017-01-24T07:34:46 | 2017-01-24T07:30:56 | 586 | 109 |
[WP] After finding a rusty penny, you realize every time you flip heads, something wonderful happens. And every time you flip tails, something horrible happens. You've been flipping it for weeks | One more time. My hand trembled as I raised it up, the penny braced against my thumbnail. Twelve heads. Fifty seven tails. It had to be heads this time. It had to.
Still, I hesitated.
A miracle for heads. A curse for tails. Oh, I’d tried to cheat alright. I’d tried dropping it straight down. I’d tried flicking it to heads as it bounced on the ground. I’d even tried building a little contraption guaranteed it to come up heads every time. It was all for nothing. Every time I tried to manipulate the outcome, it came up tails.
And I was punished for it.
The money I’d won in that scratch-off? Gone. The job offer? Gone. My wife?
I curled my fist around the penny and pressed it to my mouth, choking back a curse or a sob or a scream. I wasn’t sure which.
I took a steadying breath and carefully returned the penny to its perch on my thumb. Lincoln stared up at me, waiting. I closed my eyes and flicked the coin into the air. The penny clattered against the stone floor. I could hear it bouncing, the metal grating against the stone.
Three weeks ago, I had flicked the coin. It had come up tails. That afternoon, my wife had been hit by a car. It was an accident, they said. It was a coma brought on by trauma, they said. There was still hope, they said. She just needed a miracle. | The habitual clinking of the penny on the ground has driven everyone else away. I barely even notice. I bend over to scrape the dull coin off of the hardwood. It is so smudged over that I can't tell heads from tails until I pick it up. I can still feel that rush, the chance of it all, after all of these flips. I wonder vaguely if this is how people get addicted to slot machines. The thought is pushed violently to the side as I find out my luck.
Heads! "Bitchin." I say to myself excitedly. I look around the room. The bartender is the only person still around. He looks up from his usual tending of the bar activities to see me, looking at him. He seems to have an epiphany as he looks at me.
"Hey, I know this is kind of forward, but I recently opened a rehab center for gambling addicts, if you know anyone addicted could you spread the word? It's over on Ninth."
*What?* I check the coin again. Still heads. I scan the room again, tapping my foot impatiently. The other rewards hadn't taken this long. Sometimes a phone call, sometimes an email, but most of the time a person approached me with a reward. I shake my head in disbelief as I flip the coin into the air again.
I forget about the failure of the last toss as I scrape the penny up once more. Heads. "Hells yeah!" I look up expectantly. The bartender has gone back to tending bar, but I hear footsteps to my left. *Finally.* I turn.
"Hi there." says award winning actor Ben Affleck.
"Woah! You're Batman!"
"Yeah I know, but did you know that I also suffered from gambling addiction?"
"Wait, really?"
"I don't know, probably. I seem like the type. Anyway, I just wanted to promote some of the people who helped me out, those good old folks at the rehab center on Ninth street."
"Can I have an autograph?" I say, wondering what the hell he is talking about.
"No." he says as he walks away.
I look at the coin in my hand. "What the hell is wrong with you!" I berate the penny. I toss it again. I don't have time to check what it is before I hear the footsteps. I grab it before I whirl around, just in time to see a man in a trench coat rushing towards me. He does not look happy. The ends of his tan coat flap in the wind behind him, his dark wings.
He is reaching inside the coat.I panic and throw the only thing I have at him. My penny. It does not deter him. He is still running towards me. I can faintly hear the clink as the penny rolls off somewhere.
Suddenly he stops in front of me. He does not look so angry anymore. He looks a little out of breath, and bewildered about his own actions. He takes his hand out of his inner pocket.
"I have this pamphlet for a rehab center that's opening on Ninth street, would you consider spreading the word?"
___
/r/Periapoapsis | 2017-04-18T18:54:17 | 2017-04-18T18:47:09 | 199 | 82 |
[WP] A race of mages has expanded across the stars to harvest mana by seeding worlds with life. They arrive at a new star then a bright glow envelopes them. What followed are metal obelisks with a humanoid yelling into the void: "That was your warning shot. We will not let you reach Earth." | "What the hell just happened, Mira?"
Mira was curled into a ball, tears running down her cheeks in the middle of the channeling Sphere. It allowed a mage to extend their Mental Range to effectively the entire universe. Mira had screamed and I had rushed inside, to find her like this.
"Mira!" I yelled, trying to pry her body open from her curled position. She had gone into mental shock. Damn. I closed my eyes and reached out my own mental probe towards her. This was dangerous as hell because, this was probably what had caused Mira's shock. Being mentally linked allowed us to talk faster than the speed of light, distance became irrelevant once the link itself was made, but we opened ourselves to mental lashes, intentional or not.
So I hesitantly approached Mira's mind. Her defenses were wide open, completely shattered, but I proceeded with hesitation - and was immediately catapulted into the memory.
Mira had been linked to the expedition team leader sent to explore the outer reaches of the middle-class spiral type galaxy, when it had happened. Unlike lesser races, our crews could travel in the vacuum of space, no need for crude devices such as ships. But something had gone wrong in their search. A couple of metal....things had come out of seemingly nowhere. That should have been impossible by itself, we could detect matter heading towards us , a technique we had adopted from one of the lesser races, something called radar. But regardless, there was a glow...and a voice.
"We will not let you reach Earth."
Because I was immersed in the Memory I felt the heat pressing against my shield as the obelisks exploded, the pressure. Shit. No wonder Mira was in coma. I immediately ejected myself from the Memory.
They'd died. The entire crew...from those *things.* No wonder Mira was practically catatonic. To be Linked with a mage who died...it was enough to break someone. I had only been able to eject in time because I knew something bad was going to happen. Mira wouldn't have stood a chance.
"Sir!" Another Mage burst into the Channeling Sphere. "We heard a scream, sir," the he said, breathing hard.
I shook my head to clear it, "Mira needs a soother, please get her there as fast as possible," I said.
"Sir, you don't look so good eith-"
"NOW!" I screamed at the idiot. He gulped and obliged. With a snap of his fingers both he and Mira were gone, presumably teleported to the Soother.
I wasn't about to use a Mental link after what had just happened, and so I teleported to the Council. They were sitting at a round table, arguing about the newest petty thing, when I teleported directly on top of the table.
There was screaming at first and a few of them even began to attack reflexively, before being stopped by their neighbors.
"What is the meaning of this?"
"How dare!"
"Do you know who we are?"
"Have some Kos-damn respect."
"Silence!" Came a voice from the head of the table. Everyone including me turned to look. It was Keira of course. The youngest member on the council, younger even than me, and widely considered the most powerful Mage to have ever been born, hence are rapid ascent to the Council. "Mr. Obrek, has decided to grace us with us presence, rather than shame him, we should welcome the fact that we are important enough to finally warrant his attention."
I rolled my eyes. I didn't bother going to Council meeting because they were completely pointless, dealing with things like seeding economy or entropy reversal and things like that. I had more important things to do, new worlds to conquer, mages to recruit. "I do apologize for this disruption, honored council," I said through gritted teeth, and someone gave a short bark of laughter behind me, "but I'm afraid I bring grave news-"
"Ah, has another one of your invasions failed, Mr. Obrek? Or perhaps you did not meet your quota for Mana Reaping this Cycle?" Keira said, drawing laughter from the council.
For an insane second I debated attacking her right there and then, but I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Now was not the time. One day Keira would be at my feet, begging for mercy but not today, today I had news that could kill...
Ah. The plan just popped into my head, just like that. Mira and the soldier would be at the Soother for quite some time, her injuries were extensive, if not irreparable. Only I knew about what had happened in the Sol System. Something that for the first time in eons had killed a mage.
Just so happened I needed one dead.
"Well, not bad per se," I amended with a forced smile, "but the new expedition has discovered something *quite* remarkable. I wanted Keira, the head of the council, to come see."
***
As requested, [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/comments/6fh53o/scifi_a_trap_spaces_mages_part_2/)
If you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) for more of my work | The Iseluleki SeedShip slipped through the Astral cosmic void unchallenged. High Magistra Phlaselki stood at the helm, third eye open to the Astral, seeking for any threats. It had been millennia since anything had challenged the might of the Iseluleki, but still she remained vigilant. The Zjanzj were still a threat--a danger. The aberrations worshiped The Observers, but since they were creations of The Observers, Phlaselki reasoned that it was somewhat inevitable.
She ran her phalanges over the control crystals, seeking the comfort of knowing that whatever else happened in the wider cosmic array, that the Iseluleki remained dominant in their spheres.
As she did, the feedback nodules implanted in her arms signaled that a suitable system was within reach. A thrill of emotions played through her, but the dominant one was *hunger*.
A new source of potential power--another world to seed with their larval kind to generate arcane energy through the miracle of collective life--meant that her clan could overcome not only the hated Zjanzj, but also their rivals within the Congress of Minds. Of late, the Wilting Flower Party had been rising in prominence over her own Descending Triumph Party. And both were being opposed by the absurd Blue Cosmic Dominance Party, which favored open displays of power and wealth over the more subtle and--to Phlaselki's mind---more appropriate displays of humility that had long been the rule within Iseluleki society. The Blue Cosmics represented a dangerous shift in culture in Phlaselki's view.
She nudged the controls and began winding down from the Astral into the Empty Flux where she could then transition into Real Space--the Prime where all life began and naturally lived.
As she did, numerous nodules within the control matrix registered alarms. She closed her Astral Eyes, allowing her to see the local cosmic reality--even with the Empty Flux there were occasionally things worth seeing. Her skin flushed bright with surprise, and her assistant magistra Yleski turned to her in mirrored surprised.
"High Magistra, how is this possible? What is this?"
Phlaselki remained still, showing her own uncertainty, she knew, but unable to avoid it. "Daughter, it is hard to know. Nothing suggests that there should be any sort of intelligence active in this region of the greater cosmos. Yet these structures are resonant in numerous frequencies. Do you see how they exist across all layers of the local realities?"
"Yes Magistra. And yet, this hardly seems possible. Who could create..." She broke off as a voice registered through the SeedShip.
"This is your only warning. This Real Space is under protection. You will not approach Earth, nor the surrounding galaxy. Attempts to enter this area will be met with extreme force. We will not allow it. Thank you for your compliance."
Phlaselki wrenched the controls, using the emergency inertial dumps to stop the SeedShip completely, dropping them into RealSpace and in a position to observe the rather nondescript looking spiral arm galaxy. Yleski's skin brightened several degrees, indicating her rising anxiety and shock. Phlaselki took the younger Magistra into an embrace with one of her luminescent wing tendrils, soothing away the shock.
"Daughter, can you see them still? These things are well hidden. What say you? Is it truly a threat?"
"Mother," Yleski began, reverting to the most time-honored title of respect for their people, "This galaxy is yet void of higher intellects. I can tell that. But there is...an echo of something. A potential that we have not seen elsewhere. And these..." she gestured with one slender arm, "these obelisks are not new. They are ancient. But they have been corrupted too. They seem to be failing. I say we push in. These structures have a great number of flaws. Our lesser kin could be seeded here and assigned a few systems far from this 'Earth'."
Phlaselki considered the proposal. One question was which of the larval Iseluleki would be best suited for seeding on a few remote planets. And if the obelisks had the power still to defend the galaxy. The more she considered it, the less she desired to push into a realm of possible danger.
"No daughter, we will not take the risk. The Guilds would not approve, and our party's position within the Congress could be jeopardized. If the SeedShip is damaged or destroyed, we lose several centuries of effort. We will turn back. There are a few galaxies nearby where we can seed some of our lesser kin, where they will be safe. These are not as promising, but perhaps once the lesser kin begin to find themselves, they can travel to this galaxy on their own without interference."
Yleski's wings diminished, showing her wistful disappointment. "Yes Mother. May I suggest we use her the Disruptor Kin? Their dissonance may have a further corrupting influence on these sentinels."
Phlaselki considered this, then gave her assent. "Well done daughter, you have once again proven your worth. Would you like me to assimilate your essence? You are worthy."
Yleski hesitated. It was an honor. Phlaselki didn't expect her assistant to truly understand the honor, but hesitation was not unexpected even for one that did.
"Mother, I am surely yet unworthy. Please, forgive me my doubt."
"Yes daughter. Come, let us seed this other galaxy."
It was an innocent mistake. Easily made. Rare for one of the Iseluleki, but easily done. Phlaselki's phalanges caressed the controls just so, and the SeedShip suddenly leapt forward. She shrilled her outrage, but it was too late.
Fifteen of the obelisks turned toward the ship and fired as one beams of pure destruction.
Her last thought as her flesh and mind were consumed as one was one of sorrow for the loss that her party was suffering.
-----------
###Later
"...you for your compliance." Grand Magister Asphask of the Iseluleki considered the warning and the residual that still echoed through the local cosmos, showing clearly the destruction of the SeedShip. He turned to his assistant. "Mark this. This area is off limits for us. Maybe someday we will return, but it appears that this is not the time to challenge the might of those things. We will seed this nearby galaxy instead.
"Yes Father. Disruption kin?"
"Of course. Perhaps they can get through where we can not. Inform the Congress."
"Yes Father."
| 2017-06-05T10:45:07 | 2017-06-05T10:20:51 | 1,216 | 128 |
[WP] Write a really BAD guide for getting a guy/girl. Bonus points if the narrator is mocking you for still being single.
[removed] | Wow, you really have to ask reddit to help you... Jesus Christ, you really are scraping the bottom of the barrel aren't you? Well, I guess someone in this world has to be crap.
Step one: Clean yourself up you filthy pig, like seriously. Stop lounging in filth and take a shower.
Step two: form a bond with many people, although that may be a struggle for you.
Step three: figure out who likes you, this step should take the least amount of time.
Step four: get in bed with the person who tolerates you the most and reproduce. Give your parents some grandkids, you waste of resources. | guide to fetching a gurl.
pro tip #1
girls love manly men, to be mainly you gota smell mainly. men have feranones in theire sweet girls love them, make shur you smell like fermons. the way you tell you smell good enough is if men dont go near you bc they tink you stink.
pro tip #2
men have hair, but not to much on theire head. only women have long head hair, cut head hair short, leav all other hair long.
you could also make a ploish plat gurls like this and it leaves head hair longe.
pro tip #3
girls like party abimialy alway be rhe drunkest and vomit often at parties. vomit has feramones so gorles likes it.
pro tip #4
sho your maile dominance by making fun of and harasing other guys, grills like it it make you look like bigley man.
pro tip #5
never ever evre ever touch wipe or wash your ass hole. this sgows you like guys. girs no you like girs if you ass hole is dirty. stains should be wisible on underwhaer.
pro tip #6
make teh girl now ho is boss call them a bitch hit them often. fuck her at your will. this shows domince it also releses fermones.
pro tip#7
try for more then 1 girul at a time. if you have 1 gf and they leave you you have no gf. if you have 8 and 1 leaves you you still have 7.
pto tip #8
dont let your bitiches know abou the other bitiches, make them feel like they are the only one.
pro tip #9
when you get stedg with one live in theire appartment and make them work, you drink cheep beer (god juce) and collect ei chekes,
pro tip #10
girls like to be tpuched without conset
pro tip#11
make sure you fuck with no one in prission, if you mess with any one they will hurt you.
edit: '"fixed" the spelling and grammar. | 2017-06-09T21:27:14 | 2017-06-09T21:26:55 | 305 | 72 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya | Dear Mom,
I know you're in the room across the hall from me.
But it's not you. Not anymore. Not really.
You were strong, and proud. You worked despite what we told you. Despite what it did to you. Despite your health. You gave and gave and gave, but never to me, your own son. You figured everyone else needed the help, but not me, the person who was always there for you.
I... I hated you. I wanted away from you. But I never did. On some level you hated me. It was warranted. I was never a good son. And yet, we stayed with each other.
Then it happened, and you were never the same again. You're still alive, but not really. You're in the room across the hall, but you're not the same person. You can't leave your bed, you can't yell at me to clean my room, or clean the bathroom, or wash the dishes.
You can't make me miserable for being a useless person. You can't take care of me anymore. I'm taking care of you now, as I probably should have been all along. But it's not the same. I miss you, but you don't even really know who I am anymore.
You don't know how much I've changed. My room is still dirty, but I do everything else. I pay the bills, I'm no longer useless, but you can't see that. Not really. There's no point in proving you wrong anymore. I'm improving, but it's an empty feeling without you to be silently proud of me.
You were right, about everything. I miss you now that you're gone. I'm so sorry I couldn't changed earlier.
But I was right too. At the end of the day, you need me as much as I need you.
I've always hated being right.
Even if you don't really understand me, Mom. I love you. And I miss you. Even if you're just across the hall.
Love,
Your Son: Michael-Yoshi | 2017-11-05T21:44:07 | 2017-11-05T19:00:50 | 1,462 | 647 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Hey Scott.
I guess I took everything you did for granted. It's been really hard without you here. Your daughter still asks when you're coming to pick her up and she always gets sad when I explain to her that you can't.
She really loves you and you were a good father. She started listening to one of the books you recorded. Hearing your voice always makes her so happy. She follows along in the book like you remind her to every chapter. It's hard. I burst into tears when I heard you sound out a word you knew she'd have trouble with.
We miss you. I hope where ever you are you're not in pain anymore. | Dear Pop Pop,
I miss you. It's been about 11 or 12 years since you died. I was really young at the time, so all I remember is the last few months you were alive, watching the cancer slowly eat away at your body. With each visit you got more and more frail. I didn't recognize it at the time but looking back, seeing what it was doing to my dad, your son, was almost as bad as watching you. I wish I had more memories of you, more good memories anyway. Mom and dad say you adored me, that you loved me more than life itself, but I'll never know. They tell me stories about you, how you used to take me for rides in your convertible and I loved every minute of it, if only I could remember it. If only I could remember your laugh, your smile, your voice. Sometimes my dad looks at me and says how proud you would be of me, it's hard looking at his face when he says that, I can see the pain in his eyes. I still remember the note I wrote and put in your coffin. It said 'You were a good Pop Pop.' I was a little kid at the time so that's all I could think of to say, but I think it was enough I remember putting it in that little drawer in the side of your coffin to be buried with you. I even remember wearing that Mariachi suit that had been in the family for generations, but I don't remember you. I still have that suit, it's still hanging in my closet. I look at it from time to time, and I try to remember something, anything about you but the frail old man dying of cancer, but I can't. I think my parents are right when they say you would be proud of me, I've had a steady girlfriend for almost 5 years now, her name is Hanna. I think you would like her, she's amazing. I have a steady job too, full time working with dad at the airport. I graduated high school too, two years ago, and now I'm getting ready to go to college. I'm gonna get a business degree and then learn to be an airplane mechanic, and maybe if I'm good enough I'll open my own shop, that's when the business degree is for. Well I have to go now Pop Pop, I've got work in the morning and I need to get to sleep. I miss you. | 2017-11-05T23:19:05 | 2017-11-05T20:37:15 | 58 | 16 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Elizabeth
I never really knew you, but I'll never forget you. I see your face every time I'm alone in my car, and it always brings me to tears. I want you to know that I tried so hard to save you. I tried everything I could. I'm sorry your parents had to see what we did to you. I'm sorry they had to see the tubes sticking out of your throat and the needles I drilled into your bones. When I realized in the back of the ambulance that we weren't going to get you back no matter what we did, it nearly broke me. I'm so sorry for what happened to you.
- the paramedic who tried to save you
#2321 | Dear Pop Pop,
I miss you. It's been about 11 or 12 years since you died. I was really young at the time, so all I remember is the last few months you were alive, watching the cancer slowly eat away at your body. With each visit you got more and more frail. I didn't recognize it at the time but looking back, seeing what it was doing to my dad, your son, was almost as bad as watching you. I wish I had more memories of you, more good memories anyway. Mom and dad say you adored me, that you loved me more than life itself, but I'll never know. They tell me stories about you, how you used to take me for rides in your convertible and I loved every minute of it, if only I could remember it. If only I could remember your laugh, your smile, your voice. Sometimes my dad looks at me and says how proud you would be of me, it's hard looking at his face when he says that, I can see the pain in his eyes. I still remember the note I wrote and put in your coffin. It said 'You were a good Pop Pop.' I was a little kid at the time so that's all I could think of to say, but I think it was enough I remember putting it in that little drawer in the side of your coffin to be buried with you. I even remember wearing that Mariachi suit that had been in the family for generations, but I don't remember you. I still have that suit, it's still hanging in my closet. I look at it from time to time, and I try to remember something, anything about you but the frail old man dying of cancer, but I can't. I think my parents are right when they say you would be proud of me, I've had a steady girlfriend for almost 5 years now, her name is Hanna. I think you would like her, she's amazing. I have a steady job too, full time working with dad at the airport. I graduated high school too, two years ago, and now I'm getting ready to go to college. I'm gonna get a business degree and then learn to be an airplane mechanic, and maybe if I'm good enough I'll open my own shop, that's when the business degree is for. Well I have to go now Pop Pop, I've got work in the morning and I need to get to sleep. I miss you. | 2017-11-06T02:41:21 | 2017-11-05T20:37:15 | 27 | 16 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear old friend,
I saw something that made me think of you the other day. And sometimes I think of you for no reason at all.
I want to talk to you, but I know there’d be no point. I wonder what you’re up to, but I don’t ask.
Because we have both changed so much since then, or maybe we haven’t changed at all. But something’s changed, and we both know that things can never be as they were. We could make an attempt at a conversation, but it will only make us feel more distant from where we used to be.
So I won’t talk, and I won’t ask, but I want you to know that I keep you in my thoughts and in my heart.
Because even though it’s run its course, and even though I don’t want to rekindle it, that friendship will stay precious to me.
Love,
A stranger you once knew like the back of your hand | Dear Jenna
I'm so sorry my friends lied to me about how they felt about you to spare me. I was blindly in love with you, but they hated everything about you. Even with my awful anger problems I never got mad at you. They saw how you treated me but I didn't think it was awful. No matter what I loved every second I spent with you. You were my heart and soul and the only reason I survived those 4 years.
Then you met him and we had our first fight. In the skinny thats what led to me leaving though I said I never would the same day I told you I love you. I guess we both lied. I wanted so bad for that to not be my reasoning but I think about it every day and every night. Two years later I know it was him that drove me to the edge, and off just as quickly.
Then you lie to me again. You stay at my house, our party, our one weekend home from college. You say you want to stay the night but the messages you accidentally sent to the wrong chat say differently. You insult my friendship with other people because your other friends don't like them though you said I was your best friend. I lost it, in my anger I called you out without thinking. I didnt calm down for the month it took for you to talk to me again instead of trying to tell my friends how awful I was to you. Then I backed out and said I wanted to leave, you tried to get me to talk but I just couldnt do it again.
2 years later I've thought about you every day. I live with my girlfriend and I think I want to marry her. I have my same friends except for The ones that crawled back to you once you batted your eyelashes at them again. I have a better job as a dropout than I would have ever gotten with a degree from the college you convinced me to go to.
You chose a man who pretended to be from a different state, with a fake accent, and a fake name who left as soon as he found out you wouldnt sleep with him. You chose to blend in with your new friends rather than defend our mutual ones. You chose to trash me to every one you knew and even have your mother talk about a restraining order when we hadn't seen, talked, or been in the same city for months.
I still love you.
I still miss you.
You are still the one that got away.
But I found a new one and I want to move on.
I hope this is goodbye. Goodnight.
| 2017-11-06T03:25:39 | 2017-11-06T01:13:39 | 23 | 12 |
[WP] JFK shot first. | JFK is at the parade, suddenly, his president sense ™ tingles.
He takes out his modified M1 garand with reflex sight, fast mag and steady aim, his back up gun since it isn’t that big of a deal.
He shoots the killer in the chest from 10 meters, getting only a hitmarker.
The killer flees and stands behind a wall to heal his wounds, he then flees for good.
Then the parade comes and the killer tries to shoot JFK, but his head just did that soooooo.....
| He knelt behind his scope, letting the cigarette smoke curl around his face.
From his vantage, he saw the motorcade approaching before the segment of crowds beneath his tower. They began to cheer.
*Foolish sheep.* He grunted to himself, blowing out a plume of smoke. Then in a habit as deeply ingrained as breathing, he began checking himself. First his rifle. Then his watch. Then his surround-
A sudden glint was all the warning he had before he flinched back, his scope disintegrating where his eye would have been.
He scrabbled back madly behind a column and took cover. As he recovered his breath, he quickly checked that the second rifle was loaded.
When he was sure he was safe, he took a risk and glanced down the trajectory of the bullet. The assassin only had a moment to catch a glimpse of the shooter before another shot pinged off his barrier.
The motorcade was now passing between the screaming crowds.
And JFK had him pinned down.
*Fuck.*
"Do you wish to discuss this?" The assassin asked. "Why I need to kill him?"
"Not really. If more people knew he existed, they'd want him dead too." The assassin watched JFK through the glass as he reached a window and stared at his doppelgänger down below, waving at the crowds.
"They wouldn't even be *wrong*, not in the way that *matters*..." This he almost under his breath.
JFK suddenly straightened and looked at glass. For a moment their eyes met in the mirror.
"Although, I am curious how you knew he would actually be in the motorcade today..."
The assassin grinned and lit another cigarette. He watched JFK watching him and shrugged.
"'Some things remain mysteries to us, despite our best efforts.'" He quoted to JFK as an answer.
"Of course." JFK answered, then curiously his reflection re-holstered his gun.
The assassin checked his watch and decided it was time. No one would ever chance like this again.
"The Shadow Presidency ends today!" He shouted and rushed for the window.
---
edit: Corrections (thanks /u/Pmhellothere) | 2018-03-21T08:25:25 | 2018-01-02T08:38:23 | 27 | 14 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | “How do you wanna do this?”
“I take my scythe, and like a badass I run down the Dragon’s back dragging it behind me.” Death replied standing on his feet in excitement.
The dm nods. “And with that you drag a mighty gash into back of the blue drake and land with a 3 point landing behind it as the dragon collapses with ‘hhhuuurghthhphp’.” He makes such a convincing noise that you might believe that a dragon just died in the room.
Death lets out a satisfied sigh and sits back down. “Alright, I’ve bested your dragon and conquered your dungeon. I win.” The dm nods once more and stands. “But before we go let me ask you one thing Death, did you have fun?” The reaper ponders for a second and nods. “Yeah, it was probably the most fun I’ve had in a while.” And with that Death was banished.
10 years go by and Death comes to the same man once again. “How did you do it? I beat the dragon and everything, I thought you lose!”
Matthew Mercer looks up from behind his DM’s screen with a bright smile. “The Dm doesn’t win when he kills his players. He wins when they have fun. So I have one question for you. Do you wanna play again? You leveled up.” | "Does everyone get a chance like this?" I asked
"No" Death said as it puled a scale from underneath it's cloth. "Only those whose good deeds outhweight the bad ones".
The scale was empty yet tilted to one side, ever so slightly. "Seems you barely earned it."
No surprises there, I kinda just passed through life minding my own business, occasionally helping someone just to feel better about myself.
"Let's play Chess then" I decided. Neither of us can cheat in that game, besides Death is probably the better cheater.
"A wise call" Death smiled pulling a beautiful ebony board from his robes. "I think black suits me better" it said and gave me the white pieces.
"So... How long have you been here... I mean, doing this job" I move a pawn.
"Since the birth of the universe... and till the end of it" Death blocks my pawn.
"Do you work for God, or the Devil?" I ask and move.
"I am God... And the Devil" he mimics my move again.
"Does that mean..." I couldn't finish the sentence, but made a move.
"Yes, there is no heaven, and there is no hell, only nothingness one isn't even aware of" he answered and ate my pawn.
"I suddenly really want to win..." I said and ate his.
"You might" Death said with odd grin on it's face. He solidified his defence.
"Did you ever lose?" I asked and made a threat.
"Oh, a few times... But rarely in chess" he fills the gap in his defence.
"So... What is the meaning of life?" I ate a pawn.
"Death... Or rather, the fear of it" he ate back.
"I see... Well, you aren't really that scarry" I eat back.
"People fear what they do not know, so now you have nothing to fear anymore" he ate again.
"Does it get lonely?" I said and ate again "Check."
"No, I met everyone that ever was and I will greet everyone that will be". Death blocks the Check with another pawn.
"If I win, I won't remember this, right?" I attack from a different angle, check.
"You might remember fragments, something else entirely, or nothing at all" Death moves, eats the attacker. "That is, if you win, check"
"Do dogs get a chance like this?" I block the attack with a pawn.
"Yes, but they always lose, cats on the other hand..." He ate the defender. "Check"
"Once I win, do I get exactly 10 years or at least 10? Also, can I get 10 more next time?" I eat his attacker.
"At least 10 and yes, if you remain good. But it doesn't look like you will win this one" he attacked from a different angle "Check".
"Looks can be decieving" I move a figure, eat his attacker "Check"
"They truly can be" he moves "Checkmate".
| 2018-03-07T08:40:32 | 2018-03-07T07:49:29 | 32 | 24 |
[WP] You were accidentally killed by a god. As compensation,you're offered a job as a god of something of your own choosing. Your choice was surprising. | "So, how you finding it?" Luck asks, smiling awkwardly. The Gods here still don't really know how to behave around me. Officially, I am now one of them, unofficially, I should be subservient. I keep it chill, they'll get used to it.
"Yeah, it's surprisingly fun!" I say placing a friendly hand on his shoulder. "I gotta ask though, how do you decide who to make lucky?"
He perks up a bit "Ah well, I try to distribute it around as fair as I can, but there are some people I just really like to watch, so I give them some luck. Then there are others who I think need a bit of unluck to make improvements in their life. You see, luck isn't every..."
"I see, I see," I interrupt, "But how come it seems like all the sociopath elites have all the luck? No consequences to their actions, money and fame coming at them, yet people like who I was, fought all the way."
"Ah well, you see society began to develop at such a fast pace, that luck was somewhat \*ahem\* manufactured. I can make these 'elites' invest badly every now and then, but in a way, they themselves have become human gods" he shifts his gaze, "not like you of course."
"So...I should probably be wary of the humans manufacturing my godly powers?" I smile as I refer to my subjects as humans, and then chuckle as I think of them as subjects.
"I would think of it more as, be observant of what they are doing. Our power does come from their feelings for us after all."
"Can you make gods lucky?"
"Alas no. We are immune to godly influences."
"Seems a bit unfair if Fire can just burn your face off."
"Well, being immortal does tend to make that an irrelevant worry."
"Cool." I nod. Not a bad gig. I better thank Gravity for that sneeze of hers. "So you just wanted to talk about how things were going?"
"Err...Not quite." Luck takes a deep breath. "The other gods and I are concerned that you are not using your powers in a fair way."
"I am the most fair!" I scoff.
"You cannot inflict your powers too strongly on people."
"Some deserve it. And what of it anyway? I can do what I was made to do, and it seems you cannot stop me."
"No...the entire human race fears you, and that makes us fear you, for no other has had power such as yours."
I smile and place both my hands on his shoulders. I feel my power flow through me, and I see the change in Luck's eyes. I have affected him. I am above all.
"I am sorry." Luck says, eyes watering. "I should not have been so blunt...I owe you so much."
I remove my hands from him and laugh.
"I always collect." I whisper, fully embracing my new name. Debt. | "Red pandas," I said without hesitation. "I want to be the god of Red pandas."
I wouldn't have thought that you could stump an actual god, but sure enough, here we are. Me looking into the face of a god that clearly thinks I'm a complete idiot. To be fair, I would have to guess that we're all pretty stupid compared to gods. Maybe I'm a little more so. Maybe I give 110%. So sue me. Red pandas are awesome and if you disagree you are objectively wrong.
"What exactly do you think you'll do as the god of Red pandas, mortal?" the god asked incredulously.
"Well, I'll be in charge of Red panda heaven, obviously. So I'll get to hang out with all the Red pandas that cross the rainbow bridge. Oh, wait. Do Red pandas cross the rainbow bridge? I mean, I guess they'd just use the red part, right? Cause they're Red pandas, you know?"
"PLEASE STOP SAYING RED PANDA" the god yelled in my face. It collected itself rather quickly, but I'm not gonna lie, I peed a little. Gods yelling at you are actually pretty scary. I tried to check out the damage all sneaky-like but then remembered I was dead. So either I wasn't really there and couldn't pee, or I was and already did, cause you do when you die. And this god killed me a few minutes ago.
No hard feelings, of course. I probably kill all kinds of things when I mow the lawn. Ma yells at me to stop drinking beer while riding the mower but that don't even make sense. Mowin's thirsty work. And how are we more important to a god than whatever little things are running around in my lawn when I'm mowin'? Anyway, I got stepped on or fallen upon or something and died, Bam! Just like that. Like Bam! Dead. Didn't even feel a thing. As deaths go, that's way better than Cousin Skeeter who fell into a wasp nest when he was running around on fire. That mighta been the worst reunion I've been to yet. So, anyway, I died, and this god felt bad about it and told me I could be the god of something. My choice. So obviously I chose Red pandas. Hell, if I'm the god of Red pandas I might even have a chance with Anna Kendrick. She's mighty fine and apparently loves them little shits almost as much as I do.
"So you intend to be the keeper of the souls of departed Red pandas? Do you understand that you will have other responsibilities as well, mortal? When a god takes upon a new responsibility, the Universe steps back and rarely interferes. There was a god of Dodo birds once. Now there are no Dodo birds. Do you understand that if you neglect your charge, you will directly lead to the extinction of the species?"
Well that was sobering news. I oversleep a little bit and Bam! Just like that, no more Red pandas? Just, Bam! and gone? That dog don't hunt. Wait a minute.
"Would I have to help all them Red pandas get freaky with each other? Because that might be a little too weird for me."
Ever see a god sigh? I have.
"No, you would not. You cannot take agency or will from living creatures. They will carry on about their lives as they see fit. You will, however, have the responsibility of seeing that they endure what changes the world brings. You will be able to influence their numbers to a small degree, but more importantly you will able to tend to their spiritual well-being. Animals do indeed have spirits, and if you tend to them they will grow even happier and more lovely. The god of dogs is perhaps the most active of the new gods, and you can certainly see the powerful effect they've had on their charges. You can have that effect. There are councils of gods, and you can be the representative for your wards. Is this truly what you wish? If you choose to become a god of something inanimate, you can have power without responsibility. Many of us would trade for that, if we were able to be given the option."
Hell naw. I'm gonna be the best god those Red pandas ever had. We're gonna have so many little Red panda cubs that everyone who wants one can have one. And I'll take each and every one of them home when they're done on earth. I guarantee you they'll have good lives, and happy endings.
"I just got one question. I don't want to change my wish, but I gotta know. Is there a god of beer? Can I meet 'em?" | 2018-05-26T00:30:52 | 2018-05-26T00:13:40 | 1,048 | 257 |
[WP] You were accidentally killed by a god. As compensation,you're offered a job as a god of something of your own choosing. Your choice was surprising. | "I want to be the goddess of preventing Zeus from fucking random girls on the street."
Zeus rose to his feet, furious. "She can't do that!" His mouth was twisted into a scowl.
"Actually, she can. Even if it is just to spite you for uh, fucking her to death." Hades said, not even glancing up from his book.
Hera smiled warmly at me. I had a feeling we were going to be great friends. | First day on the "job".
Excited, I am, a new employee, I also am. But getting to my new work desk, I feel like I should have been doing this long ago. This is where I belong, not because of the perks, mainly because it fits my interests.
The job goes slowly, steadily with my overwhelming frenzy.
"Ahh... long CV, but there is a turning point... child molester... Second Circle, 1000 years of torment, appointed "warden" \- BAEL!" as I push ENTER, my whole body's shaking out of joy!
"Short life... organ donator... well... her deeds is not enough to be with God... First Cirlce, Incarnation, life\-span appointed: 90 years, status: wealthy... appointed "warden" \- none!" Another one.
"Death of saving 3 people, pure of critical deeds,... choices offer: Heaven Gate 1 \- company \- Selaphiel or 3 Incarnation of wealthy, long lives."
"Long life... long time of corruption... lives indirectly stolen: 1 252 912... Fourth Circle, ripped off reincarnation until 1 252 912 stolen lives have been reincarnated, appointed "warden" \- Amdusias!" The sound every time I push the button is truly the music to my ear...
The working place is not so bad, your time is flexible, you can stop and take a break any time, any length, you can go and check on your work on the field anytime you want! Meet all the Wardens, listen to various stories, read tons of CV, watching people live the life they deserves,... and of course, the best colleagues and the best boss!
"Hey, it's lunch time, newbee!" \- A voice call to me, I was submerged in my job that I forgot it's lunch time already.
"I know taking up Minos' place is tough, you have to make difficult decision sometimes, but don't..."
"Oh not really, Reaper... I truly enjoy it, and your cooperation is absolutely amazing!" \- I smile. | 2018-05-26T06:58:55 | 2018-05-26T06:52:22 | 31 | 10 |
[WP]You're a highly dangerous criminal who has been given 200 years in prison. It's been 200 years and you're still alive. The justice system did not foresee this.
​ | The metal cell walls and floor was filled with tiny indents, one per day. That makes for a grand total of 72,999 markings in total. One left to go.
"You can't be serious. He's a menace to society!"
"Sorry son, the laws the law. 23 more hours and he'll be a free man."
"Nobody finds it odd that he's been here after 200 years?! Nobody wants to look into that at all?" The officers voice filled with anger.
"My great grandpa was the warden, my grandpa after, my father skipped the business, but it's come onto me. That man has been here that whole time. 200 years. Of fucking course we're confused, but what do we do? Have him interrogated? Have him shot? We're here to uphold the law Garr. Now do your job"
Garr stormed off towards prisoner 13's cell. The secure metal door and a few more hours were the only things keeping that monster from freedom.
Garr approached the cell door. He questioned everything he valued during his approach.
*If a man like this can just go free, does the law even matter? Why do what I do?*
I listened intently from inside my cell, anticipating my freedom. I could hear Garr outside, pacing back and forth, probably questioning his sanity as always.
"Hey Garr! Keep it down I'm trying to stay excited until tomorrow." I yelled towards the door.
"Shut it 13! I still got one more day with ya', so don't bust my balls"
"Whatcha thinkin' about Garr? Is it me? I bet it is. That's awfully sweet of ya'"
"I told you to shut the hell up! I'll come in there!" Garr's voice rose
"You'd do that for me? I always like company" I replied.
Garr began beating on the door with his fists. A rythmic and metallic banging that slowly subsided. I could hear his heavy breathing from the other side of the cell. His footsteps echoed off down the far side of the hall.
I never thought I'd wind up here, or at least here for so long. 200 years was a long time to think about a crime that I didn't care that I had committed anyways.
*200 years, maximum security, for the gruesome murders of Alistar Banes, Johnny Clement, and Clarise Baxter* the memory played in my head. Jokes on them. Everyone in that courtroom has been dead for the last 130 years.
I'll admit to killing them, I never was one for fibbing anyways. My dad did always say, "Was born a gambler, thief, and a cheater, but at least I'm honest". Sometimes I thought of him fondly, ole' Alistar, but I had to do what I did.
"Gruesome murders" was a rudimentary recollection of what I had acheived that day. I didn't know it at the time, but I gained what all men seek. Eternital life, if you're willing to get your hands dirty. Only problem was the ritual had to be set every 175 years, go figure.
I was wasting away. The way I see it I need to reset myself as soon as possible. Garr was an obvious choice, the Warden second, I had a pretty good spread from there. Officers, desk jockeys, various staff.
Footsteps approached my cell. It was still to early for my release, but the thought of a visitor excited me, regardless of who. A cold, yet familiar voice spoke from the other side of the cell door.
"I don't care if you'll be a "free" man soon. I don't care what the Warden says. I won't let you leave this prison with your life 13."
Keys jingled against the door, and the latch clicked open.
| They said it was a record. Once I reached 25 years behind the bars I got my first. The parole board rejected me time and time again. It’s not like I expected to get out. 200 years is a hefty sentence. Maybe not for what I did, but hey, it had to be done. Once I got denied the 23rd time I just started telling them to go fuck themselves. Pretty soon they just stopped the hearings all together, they thought I would just eventually rot in the hole they left me in. They were damn wrong about that. To tell you the truth I don’t know how it happened. I’d been in so long. Seen more wardens than the number of rats in my cell, and there’s a lot of those. Something just kept me going, lord knows I didn’t want to. Maybe it was the lack of human contact. A departure from all the filth and disease in the world, but then again there were rats so I guess that’s not it.
The day I got out was the first time I’d seen the other side of those prison walls in 200 years. Hell they weren’t even the same walls that they used to be. Old stone had been replaced by high tech security fences. The unkept grounds of old replaced by grass that seemingly mowed itself. Maybe it did, it had been 200 years, they might have flying cars at this fucking point.
They unlocked my shackles at the front gates. The cloths I came in had long since been forgotten, replaced by a simple black shirt and grey pants. They let me keep my prison issued shoes, how sweet of them.
A guard gave me a handshake, muttered something about being a tough bastard and walked me through the gate. I took a look up at the sky, grey as the day I got here. Luckily I didn’t have to look at it long before a bag was thrown over my head and I was slammed into what I can only assume would be called a car. I didn’t try and struggle. What’s the use. If they had planned to pick me up the second I got out they damn sure were prepared for any resistance.
Back in a room again. This one was much nicer than the last. No rats at least, so already a bonus. I wasn’t cuffed, just put into a room and left there. The metal table a sharp contrast to the dimly lit room.
He came in and ask my name. Stupid fucking question, he obviously knew my name already. I didn’t respond. 200 years of rarely talking will do that. I don’t talk unless I have important shit to say. “Mr Abram, we would like to hear about your experience while incarcerated so that we may better understand your condition.” “My condition, I said?” “Yes Mr Abram. It seems that you have any uncanny ability to not die, and we would like to know why.” “I’m not saying shit else until I speak to him.” I said. “Whoever do you mean Mr Abram?” “Listen fucker, I didn’t wait 200 years for some little prat to fuck around with me. I said. Go get him.”
He walked out of the room quickly and silently. Didn’t say another word. Thank god, talking this much makes me tired. After 10 minutes there was a knock on the door. Five men walked in. None would walk out. The last to enter was an elderly figure, clutching a cane in his hand. He say opposite me, not taking is eyes off of mine the entire time. “So Abram, you’re still here.” “Yes Avery, I’m still here, I said. Surprised?” “Not really, I knew you would be, he said.” “What now, I said.” “That’s up to you Abrams. Would you consider the experiment a success?” “Obviously you fuck, I’m still here am I not? I’m still here talking to you, where we started in the first place.” “Well Mr Abrams, it seems you have fulfilled your terms on the contract. 200 years and the ability to live through it all. All it took was you. My predecessors were skeptical but I knew it would work. I told you, that it would.” “And what now.” I said. “Ah see that leads us to the most unfortunate point mr Abrams. You see, I simply cannot let a specimen as valuable as you free, unlike you the serum has not been as kind to me. So I am afraid...”
The men standing on either side of Avery moved towards me with the trained quickness of killers. Unfortunate for them I had 200 years to hone myself in that hell hole. As they grabbed me I pulled the black pistol out from the guards belt. Heavy and cold. The silencer chirped like the birds I dreamt of while in the hole. Five men entered the room, one was left alive. Sitting at the table with a smile on his face. “You always were good Abrams, that’s why you had to be put away.” “You were going to kill them all and give the serum away so the rich could get richer, profiting off the labors of other.” I said. “ you had to be stopped” “and what will you do now Abrams? Kill me and kill everyone else?” I looked at the men on the floor, and looked back at his black empty eyes. “It’s a start.” I said. The hole that the bullet left in his forehead was akin to his eyes. Black and lifeless.
-PeerlessScarred | 2018-08-24T20:10:56 | 2018-08-24T19:56:15 | 171 | 69 |
[WP] The longer you charge an attack, the more powerful it becomes. SWAT charges a punch for 30 seconds to break down a door. You’ve been charging for the last three days. | It was sometime in the afternoon when Carl got a call.
“Hey, what’s up?”
The familiar voice of his friend Ryan comes out in a hurried and excited tone: “Carl, you won’t believe what I have been doing for the past week. You gotta come over here.”
“What? I thought you were sick!”
“Never mind that, I was never sick. Anyways, you have to-”
“Then what the hell made you miss a whole week of school?”
“Listen, I’ll explain it to you later. First, come to my place, quick.”
“Alright, fine. I’ll be over there in 20 minutes.”
---
“Is it recording?”
“Yeah.”
Carl stops fiddling with the camera and moves out of the frame to show a tall boy in a field with his knees braced and his hand pressed together and level with his hips. They were glowing intensely.
“Hi, so I’m Ryan. You, uh, are probably wondering what I’m doing right now. I just skipped a week of school to-“
Carl, still out of camera, interjected “So basically, this dumbass Ryan thinks he can do a k-“
“Shut up, Carl, I’m saving that for the end. Anyways, like, some time ago someone told me that you could charge attacks with your hands, and sent me that one viral video where a guy knocks down a brick wall with his bare hands. You’ve probably seen or heard of that by now. I totally thought it was bullshit, so I tried it out myself.”
“And it worked?”
“Yeah. But that got me thinking... exactly what kind of ‘attacks’ can you charge up? So I went and bought a bunch of cheap pressure testers, and kind of saw just how hard I could punch and exactly how much energy that gives. “
The camera briefly pans down to a notebook with several math equations related to pressure, then back to Ryan.
“...and I calculated just how much time you’d have to charge for to recreate a certain attack from-“
“Get to the point already.”
“Fine. You probably already get where I’m going with this anyways. So I have been charging this attack for three whole days.”
“Holy shit, three days? When you said you’d been charging that for a long time, I thought you meant for a few hours, not for fucking 3 days! You’re gonna get yourself killed!”
Just then, a phone set on Ryan’s notebook begins ringing. The camera briefly focuses on it, showing it said “Timer Done”. As that happens, Ryan begins to grin from ear to earz “That means I’ve finally charged long enough! Time to do this!” Ryan’s hands begin to emit the signature fierce blue flame that happened when an attack charged for a long time was about to be released.
Worried, Carl begins to quickly back away, bringing the camera with him. “Dude, stop, you’re gonna-“
“Too late now, Carl!” Ryan unfolded his hands into a cup and twisted his arms to his side, keeping his wrists together. The flames shifted into a sphere floating in his cupped hands.
“KA-ME-HA-ME-HA!”
 
In the final few frames of the video, Ryan can be seen completing the move, and the flames beginning to burst forward, as Carl begins to yell “OH SH-“, but is cut off by the abrupt end of the video.
---
Carl walks into the room to see Ryan tethered to a small array of monitors, with a cast on both of his arms, and several bandages on various places on his body.
Awkwardly, Carl tells Ryan “You know you got suspended from school for lying about being sick, right?”
“Yeah, and what else?”
“You’re gonna be doing community service for, like, a few years for almost destroying the entire field?”
“And?”
“If you had charged for any longer, you might have blown both your arms off?”
“And?”
“...we broke the record for most viewed video on youtube.”
“Totally worth it.”
---
This is my first time writing. Feedback is appreciated. | I didn't mean to, I was just mad. As most people know, if you charge too much you can't just cancel it. There is no discharge. Most professional fighters charge anywhere from 3-5 seconds for a knockout and typically don't charge at all in the higher purse fights. The average person isn't even able to channel their energy because of the risks involved.
A few years back I had a Stalker, not a stalker, but an actual Stalker. The very same creature that we learned how to charge from. Because of the inherent danger associate with a feral stalker there is zero expectation that someone could hire anyone to protect them. Instead, they get a trainer for a two week course to learn how to charge their own attacks and are wished the best of luck in their eventual encounter.
My Stalker was killed in a rare attack by another Stalker that happened to be in the area. Typically these things are so territorial that we have yet to discover how they reproduce. They are also unable to discharge and the only beneficial part is they have instincts for this ability and have yet to charge more than what was needed to kill their prey.
Three days ago while I was working my boss came to me and asked me about those fucking TPS reports. Have you ever seen The Office, picture someone like Dwight in charge and you will get some idea of what kind of guy he is. He claims to be able to charge, but everyone knows he can't even throw an effective punch and it is illegal to attach another person with a charged attack unless they too are capable of charging. Too bad the Stalkers do not know this...
Well, back to the TPS reports, I had plans that afternoon and this was the third time I had to revise them. Not because the previous ones were wrong, but because they were in the wrong font and then because I had forgotten to change the footer's font in my rush to get the second revision in on time. Needless to say, I was a little pissed and he liked pushing my buttons because anyone who has been targeted by a Stalker is well known. Which meant that everyone, including my supervisor, new I could charge if I had to.
A vital part of the training is learning the ability to control your inner rage to prevent exactly what was happening now. He pissed me off so much that I lost control in that moment. I needed this job and realized immediately what was happening. So I held back and after a few more *minutes* he finally walked away. I sat there in silence with my arms crossed trying to calm myself. Nothing was working, it wouldn't stop. I started to do my reports and as soon as I touched my keyboard the entire building went dark. This wasn't from a release, this was just another coincidence from another Stalker in the area attacking someone near the power station. I was of course a little concerned and even hopeful until I realized the keyboard would have melted if I had discharged enough power into it to kill the grid.
I called in sick the last three mornings as the charge built up inside of me. It had built up so much that I was starting to lose weight at a concerning rate. Sure, I had it to spare, but this wasn't like a few grams, I had already lost 73kg since it started which was almost half my weight and I was over twice the normal weight for someone who was 186cm. Since I had already eaten everything inside the house, I had to go somewhere.
What better place than the local Chinese Buffet. They kicked me out after 6 hours and I ate non-stop and still lost another 10kg while I was there. I knew the owner by name and he still asked me to leave and it was then that I knew I was in trouble. For the next hour I wondered aimlessly through the city. I was already close to half the weight from when I started.
Here we are now and the good news is I am not dead yet even though I am pretty sure I don't have long to live. The government knew about the effects and we have heard of tests performed on people who could charge early on and almost all of them died within a day after they lost so much weight that their muscles started to deteriorate and their hearts gave out. The longest anyone has lasted was just over 28 hours and his discharge disintegrated the facility and leveled the trees around the secluded area leaving him standing at the epicenter. Not long after they stopped the experiments. Now imagine what might happen if I discharged now after more than 72 hours. I might kill everyone in the city or more.
As I hit what I expect is half my weight I can feel an enormous pain coursing through my entire body. It isn't just burning, but it feels like my bones are breaking and it is a miracle that I am still sitting here. There was a tap on my shoulder as a blinding light lit the night sky and thunder rolled towards the horizon. As I turned towards the person that just tapped my shoulder I saw the ground was burnt for several feet around me. As I made what I expect to be eye contact I heard myself asking if I was alright even though I am almost certain I didn't say anything. My clothes were just gone and the person before me also seemed to be naked from what little I could see after the blinding flash. Slowly my sight returned to normal and I realized I was no longer charging. I then heard myself again only this time I knew it was me... well, not me, but the me standing before me. I might not be charging anymore, but I don't feel so good. | 2018-10-02T20:17:11 | 2018-10-02T19:24:34 | 20 | 14 |
[WP] On one hand, you're average at everything. On the other hand, you're average at EVERYTHING. | Being average can be both a curse and a blessing. On one hand, you never really can experience prosperity. I learned this the hard way in highschool when I would wrestle. It never feels good to train your butt off to only come in 5th place in a tournament. After all... No one cares about 5th place. It's only the top three that matter.
Whatever I do, whatever I try I seem to be capable of it. Capable of anything. It truly allows me to explore different areas of life.
I remember when I tried my shot at bodybuilding. After 4 years of training I had a decent physique. Emphasis on decent. Me and a few of my friends started at the same time. 4 years later they look like they are ready to compete in competitions or become models. Meanwhile, I simply look fit. They told my it was my genetics. I knew it was because of my curse.
I'm capable of anything. But I'm not capable of going beyond average. Perfection is a dream to me that I can only loathe.
Art, athletics, studies, popularity. I can only be average. It really takes a toll on you mentally knowing that you can never stand out... You just become background noise.
It led to depression. Which eventually led to drug abuse. I lost my job, family, and interest in life.
I was homeless for 5 years when it happened. I've been living out of my car and taking showers at planet fitness.
Then I saw him.
A young little boy grasped his chest and sat down on the cold granite. I rushed up to him asking if he needed help. He told my he had trouble breathing and that he wasn't feeling good. A crowd gathered, people became worried for him. Then I heard
"DOES ANYONE KNOW CPR"
I've heard of it, but I never tried it. That's when I realize that my curse could actually save this boy's life. I rushed up to him clasp my hands together and start pushing on his chest in a rhytmic pattern. It wasn't the best CPR nor was it the worst. It was average and it got the job done. The ambulance came and commended me. They told me I helped save the boy's life. As they drove off the crowd applauded. I smiled. Maybe being average wasn't so bad. It helped save a life.
Any CPR is good CPR . | My best friend once called me and told me how jealous he was of my talents. What talents? I could never really put my finger on it if they existed, and I spent years trying to see what he saw. Maybe he meant the time I used to play in a band. We called ourselves, “We Ate the Fish”. Looking back that was a stupid band name.
And I’m the one who came up with it…
I was the lead singer in the band, and I also played the rhythm guitar. But between work and the band it was tough. Not to mention our dedicated practicing space was a storage unit. The band didn't last long, it ended after practice on a hot summer day. Sweat was running down all our faces and man-musk burning my nose hairs. The lead guitars packed up and said, “I can’t do this anymore guys.”
I take no offense he said ‘guys’, but come on…
I’m a girl, he could have gave me some credit.
After that, he left, and so did everyone else. A couple of days later though, I saw him on his social media page jamming out with a new band in the same storage unit as the old one. It was an entirely new group of people, so I guess… he just decided to abandon us.
I’m not mad though.
But fuck you too, dude.
Though listening to our bands original songs, I could say they were average at best.
I doubt the band is what my bestie was talking about. Maybe he meant that time I was part of this TCG team. I hate Trading Card Games, but I was a huge fan of the show the card game was based on. So I played it. I got called a nerd often for it. Our team participated in many of the regional tournaments and the team captain was amazing at the game. Not to mention she was just as much a fan of the show as I was.
During one of the Spring regionals, she snapped on me. I had been building my decks similar to the tv show decks and that didn’t sit well with her when she found out. We were outside of the tournament participant entrance, and she pulled me to the side where people typically smoke at. You could tell because of all the cigarette buds sticking out of the ashtray on top the trash can.
“Are You F-ing kidding me? You’re using a F-ing vanilla TV deck!” She said, trying hard not to be vulgar. Yet how often she uses ‘F-ing’, she might as well just say the word.
“I’ve always been using an F-ing… I mean, a vanilla TV deck.” Is what I said.
She rolled her eyes, then pushed me. I stumbled, bumped into the trash can, and fell over with it. I could feel everyone’s eyes turning to look at me as I crashed. However, they either entered the building or kept talking in their little groups. No one cared to help. But whatever. The captain already went inside, leaving me to clean up the mess. I had ash in my hair, under my finger nails, and the stench of garbage lingering with me everywhere.
I didn’t let it get to me, this was pretty much an average day for me.
Besides being bullied.
More so my day just being garbage.
After a couple of matches, I placed third in the tournament using my “vanilla TV deck” while the team captain, well… she lost in her first match of the tournament. Not going to brag about placing third though, I still didn’t get picked to go to Nationals and our team started going through some changes so I left.
Never to play card games again.
I don’t do much else except cooking, cleaning, drawing, writing, making music, reading, making cosplay, playing video games, playing badminton, soccer, baseball, golf, and talking with animals. But I’m only average at best in all of those things. I don’t see what my friend sees in me…
I really don't. | 2018-10-24T12:47:09 | 2018-10-24T07:46:45 | 26 | 11 |
[WP] some people can fly. Others can kill with a touch. Still others can bend time and space to their will. You.... can crack your knuckles to get your hands to light up like glowsticks.
EDIT: this idea was already done by u/-C4-, so take your upvotes to [his post](https://www.reddit.com/r/shittysuperpowers/comments/9wzvqt/when_you_crack_your_knuckles_they_start_glowing/?st=JPCY7ETN&sh=ea3ea677) | It was foggy out. Thick fog. He removed his hat and slumped down in front of me with what seemed to be the weight of the world on his shoulders
"I need you" he said "*the team* needs you. Please, come back"
Was he aware of how untrue that statement was? He could not have been that oblivious to how i was being treated. The insults, the exclusion. Surely with his position, oversight and background in behavioural psychology and analysis, he *had* to have known. Yes, my unique abilities made me stand out. But it was everyones reaction to this exact attribute that caused my anxiety and abrupt separation from the team.
"Give them one more chance" he pleaded. "Whether they know it or not, they need you. They need your leadership. Put aside your fears and apprehensions and forget about their animosity. You were born to do this!"
In a more somber tone, he lowered his head and gently whispered:
"The mission. Ive never failed in a mission before. There are folks out there who are depending on us to complete the mission"
He looked up with a desperate longing in his eyes
"Please Rudolph..."
| A usual day for you is to go to the office.
Your power isn't much interesting. Some people can soar through the air at ludicrous speeds. Others have an ultra effective poison as the natural oil their body produces, being able to kill anyone with a slight touch. Hell, there are even some rumors that some people can control the flow of time.
And you? You can crack your knuckles, and they just... light up. You never were one to complain about getting the shortest straw, but you basically just got a millimeter of straw when you were born. And, from what you've been able to gather, you're also the only person in the city with that power. Maybe the world, but searching like that takes time, and you have stuff to work on.
Most of the time, your powers are not that useful. What's the need for glowstick bones in the 21st century? But you've been able to get some oddjobs here and there to cover some bills. A cave-in happened last Thursday, and you were called to light the way. A blackout happened, and a certain building was taken over by rioters, and you were called to be a bluff. That was a real fun one, actually. You still chuckle at the thought of the rioters getting panicked as hell because you told them you had radioactive hands.
And, right now, you're just... in an office, working. You're not too fond of office jobs, in fact, if you could, you'd take jobs related to your powers all the time, but your powers are too situational, and the frequency you'd get jobs with would not be able to pay the bills.
As you get home after a long day of work, you see someone sitting in a rolling chair with the lights turned off. Oh my fucking god, you hate those guys. The guys that think they're sooo cool, so they have to make dramatic reveals to everyone they meet, so they just fucking break into other people's houses just to make sure they look cool enough. Worst thing is, those guys usually have really strong powers, so you couldn't kill them if you tried.
You try turning on the light, but it wouldn't come on. Did this dude just cut the power supply in your house just to make you use your powers? That is so fucking dumb. You crack your knuckles and they glow with a green tint.
"Oh. Hello, David. Very nice to meet you."
He turns around.
Oh. Ohhhh, shit.
It's the mob boss. It's fucking Big Donnie.
"I heard about your... radioactive fists from my boys. And I wanted to know if you would like to have a job from me."
Wait, that last part didn't come from behind the chai- OH FUCK HE'S BEHIND YOU. Fuck, he's a time master. Oh shit.
You are so fucking screwed. | 2018-12-06T01:10:39 | 2018-12-06T01:05:26 | 47 | 16 |
[WP] The current rulers of the galaxy exert their dominance by showing showing new races a glimpse of their terrifying nature inevitably either driving the unfortunate victims mad or causing them to retreat in fear. It does not work on humans however, they are used to it | Life had a unifying feature.
It didn't matter if your species evolved in the oceans of a moon on a gas giant, or in the crevices of a planet tidal-locked with its star, it will always have one critical trait:
Fear.
Fear is what keeps species in check, what ensures that they don't kill themselves in foolish endeavors. Fear is the power that allows a civilization to grow and become stronger; fear of one's neighbor, fear of hunger, fear of poverty, fear of sickness, fear of death. Fear ensures that nuclear weapons aren't used to bring about their own apocalypse, that antimatter reactors have proper safeguards and never too much fuel, that interstellar travel is strictly regulated and properly defended.
And it is fear that we have conquered. Our species, the self-proclaimed Forebearers, were the first and most magnificent of races. When we stretched our hands out to the cosmos, we found a fledgling universe, filled with potential, yet without any to protect them. As we marched forward, we claimed civilization after civilization under our banner, showing them the dark futures that existed, and the safety of life within our control. As our technology advanced, those civilizations under us were provided greater shelter and safety and comfort, and reminded how steep the fall from our graces was.
Our control of fear allowed us to expand to over a quarter of the galactic arm. We had mastered it, mastered the ability to instill fear and terror and show species the better way. Our way.
Until we met them. Humanity, they called themselves. One of millions of species on their planet, they were the sole species that could begin to understand the universal truths. They'd expanded to their moon and their nearby planets, inhospitable as they were. Still primitive by all accounts, they held promise to become the next in line to join our ranks.
Except they didn't.
Maybe we'd foolishly relied on fear for so long that we'd never considered other options, but when the vast might of our civilization was thrown on display, when the veil of the future was ripped back and exposed for all to see, when our arcane technology that can split reality and reshape it at will was brought forth, when the sheer terror of how tiny they were compared to the great and grand Forebearers gripped them thoroughly... they simply acknowledged us. When given the option to join us or be left to drift for all eternity, they chose to drift. When told they would receive no help from us and would end up as so many other species we'd failed to reach before they'd rendered themselves extinct, they had ready their reply.
And such a simple reply it was: "When we were young, we looked to the heavens for the potential of our species. When we grew older, we found we could reach out to test ourselves. And when we took our first steps on new worlds, our elation was palpable. Now that we have met you, we have seen all that we can become, but we also see that, under your reign, we will not reach the heights we know we can. We have hope that we will be able to come to you again, as equals, in the future, and beg you to anticipate this joyous occasion."
Fear united our grand vision. We had conquered fear, but still, it controlled us.
Fear does not hold humanity.
And that is unacceptable. | Within a room containing the world leaders of thousands of intergalactic species, a lone creature with six arms, fangs for a mouth, and goo secreting from every part of its body stands in the center. All eyes are on it. The air is stiff and tensions are high. For this creature is the galactic emperor who had been claiming countless words in the name of the Glooberians.
"Creature big and small." It spoke. Sulfuric acid dripping from its face and burning small holes into the floor beneath. Its voice harsh and scraggly, like that of a smoker. "Welcome to the start of your new lives. We have a series of presentations for each of you for your viewing pleasure. Behold the path of your future, if you do not join our society and pledge your allegiance to us!"
There is a moment of silence followed by the sound of a projector crackling to life. A holographic display emerges at the foreground were the creature stood. It walks off and sits down at a table. The colors dance across the floor and depicts a story.
There are the Greys. A peaceful society of wide eyed, big headed, short grey creatures at the far reaches of the Milky Way. Scenes of happy families playing outside and celebrating come into view. Then, a cloud of smoke and ash overtakes the scene and all little wide eyed Greys are burned. The men, the women, the children. No life is spared.
The room is silent as everyone turns to the Grey leader, who's fear is felt throughout the building. He is shaking. The Glooberian leader walks over to him with a sheet of paper, a document pledging the Greys loyalty to them. The Grey leader signs, hand shaking vigorously. The Glooberian smiles and walks back to its seat.
In the next scene, the Reptilians, a species of power and honor. A fierce people who spend their free time in the hunt, proving themselves to their families that they are the strongest warrior. Their world is shown hot and fiery. Thousands of Reptilians thrown about the ground covered in their purple blood. Buildings and sacred religious temples destroyed and massive cracks in the ground reveal the planet's molten core. The scene ends.
All turn to the Reptilian queen who stands mesmerized, sword in hand, always ready for an honorable battle. The Glooberian leader walks over, again with the paper reliving the queen of her duty. The queen arms herself with her sword and slices the paper in half. The Glooberian looks unimpressed at the two halves of paper now laying at its feet. It simply brings its hand to eye level and a ray of immense energy shoots out. Vaporizing the Reptilian queen. Her sword falls, a great dishonor to her people. Taboo even. A Reptilian stands and walks over to his fallen queen and mother. He picks up her sword and ceremonially cuts the tip of his finger. He wipes the purple blood on one of the sheets of paper, pledging the Reptilians loyalty to the Glooberians.
Then another scene shows in the center of the room. Lush green trees in a dense forest. Thick mist above a tropical jungle. A busy metropolitan city busy with Humans running to and from their destination. Pictures of clean white sand and crisp blue water crashes upon and Earth beach. The sun shines down on several Human families as they build towers in the sand and toss around inflated rubber spheres. Then, a massive explosion is heard from above and the moon crashes into the Earth. All life is wiped out. Nothing is left alive. All eyes go to the Human leaders. Several of them. For they work as a team to control their many people.
The Human leaders look to one another before bursting out into laughter. Confusion is seen on every creature's face. "When was this even made?" One of the light skinned female leaders says.
"The Earth hasn't looked like that in over 500 years!" A dark skinned male says.
"What? How are you not petrified in fear? Do you not see the destruction of your people is inevitable unless you announce your loyalty to us?"
"Buddy listen. I dont know what this video is supposed to represent. But our planet has been doomed since the 1980's. Over 500 years ago! Our oceans are covered in a ten foot deep floor of plastics and garbage. The air is toxic and dense with deadly fumes. Our people are starving as most life has already been killed off by our greediness. You threatening to blow up the moon and wipe us out is a BLESSING!"
The room stares at the Humans as they continue to laugh. The Glooberians confused. No creature has ever not imediently surrendered after witnessing the destruction of their world.
"What is wrong with you guys?" The Glooberian leader asks. The Humans look at each other again before busting into lafter once more.
"Everything!" They all say in unison. | 2019-06-11T10:06:47 | 2019-06-11T09:54:55 | 363 | 88 |
[WP] The current rulers of the galaxy exert their dominance by showing showing new races a glimpse of their terrifying nature inevitably either driving the unfortunate victims mad or causing them to retreat in fear. It does not work on humans however, they are used to it | *"What do you fear, creature?"*
I blinked, for lack of any more constructive response, given the restraints. This wasn't the first time the shadow before me had asked this question, but it was clearly becoming more confused and frustrated with each attempt. Each time it asked the question, it ignored my answer, then showed me some image in hopes that it would find what scared me.
This time it was the weather. The shadow's eyes flared white for a moment, and then I was seated, chair and all, on an open plain of oddly purplish tall grass beneath a greenish sky. In the near distance, thunder rumbled ominously.
*"The storm is coming, creature, and you have nowhere to run..."*
I was getting a bit tired of this myself. "Oh, no. What's it going to do, rain on me a bit? I might catch a chill!"
The mental reply felt like grinding teeth. *"One would think you would not want such misery"*
"Come on. I'm from Kansas, asshole. The sky eats towns there every year for fun."
...
"Seriously. It's just life."
*"I will search your memories then, and find what will truly frighten you!"*
"Careful with that. If you think -this- is scary..." I couldn't help but grin as the surroundings changed, blinking through some familiar memories.
Holding my buddy's guts in on a dusty road in Afghanistan, praying the medivac hurried the hell up.
The smell of burnt insulation and polyester as I helped my brother shovel out the remains of his living room after the chimney fire.
Standing in the snow before a too-small coffin, as we paid our respects to my youngest sister after the cancer took her.
*"I don't... what..."*
Spitting out a mouthful of blood and feeling a tooth go with it, as I dragged myself back to my feet and glared at the asshole in the GOD HATES FAGS t-shirt who just blindsided me with an elbow.
The blinding flare of pain as burning fuel splashed across my leg, and the determination to finish the mission.
Cold, mechanical precision as a rifle came to my shoulder, and the familiar rock of recoil as rounds roared across the desert and a distant figure dropped in the darkness.
*"How. How do you see all this and continue?"*
The mental voice was almost sobbing, now.
"She who fights with monsters should look to it that she herself does not become a monster."
*"...what?"*
I laughed, then, at the irony of it. "You don't scare me for shit, because I am the thing that goes bump in the night, and I've made my peace with that." |
Since the universe has existed, only one species has ever attempted to claim an entire galaxy as its own. The R'kenan Empire was able to span countless star systems subjugating thousands of species all by taking advantage of a simple evolutionary quirk. Species which exhibited violent tendencies always destroyed themselves well before escaping their home planet. There was simply no way a non-pacifist species could survive much past splitting the atom. This simple fact held true across the entire galaxy except, of course, for the R'kenan's themselves who, after their home world was frozen in nuclear winter, were "rescued" by the kindly Miflorians who transposed them to a new planet and went on their merry way unaware of the damage their actions would bring upon the galaxy. Seeing their apparent rapture and the gift of technology from the miflorians to aid in rebuilding their society as a second chance given by the gods, the R'kenan set about spreading as quickly as possible to ensure nothing would ever bring their species to its knees again. As the first truly violent species to achieve interstellar travel, the R'kenans mowed through all other spacefaring species often having to simply show they were willing to use nuclear warheads to force surrender. Their most common method of conquer was to choose the city of most cultural significance on a civilizations capital planet and nuke it without warning. Often only a single nuclear device would be required before the horrified citizens of the planet would surrender, but occasionally the R'kennan's would broadcast what they had done to other empires to further instill fear. These poor species simply could not comprehend the violence and lack of empathy required to do what the R'kenan's did and crumbled quickly. That all changed the day the R'kennans found earth. The human empire of earth was a fledgling civilization with small colonies on two of its closest neighboring planets. Strangely, the R’kenan fleet’s sensors implied that the humans were far more reliant on nuclear energy than other civilizations of similar size. Obviously, this could only mean that the humans had access to an excess of uranium and other fissile materials which would be invaluable to restock the currently somewhat drained fleet.
There’s an old human adage known as murphy’s law which states that “what can go wrong will go wrong” and the R’kenans experienced this principle to the fullest on that day. Their fleet admiral brushed off concerns that the nuclear signals could be more than just generators, and decided that only a small expeditionary force equipped with 5 nuclear warheads would be enough to subjugate the human home planet. Upon this force’s arrival, they did indeed catch the humans off guard and a great megacity known as New York was laid to ruin. To further rub it in, all ships entered atmosphere broadcasting video of the thousands of other planets they had done this too on every available frequency only halting once their task of destruction was complete. Had they not flooded the airwaves, perhaps their sensors could have picked up on the hundreds of missile launches occurring the instant they dropped their bombs and perhaps they might also have detected the peculiar atmosphere held in place by earths magnetic poles. Instead, what the R’kenan expeditionary force found after destroying a single city was complete and utter destruction with 80% of their ships destroyed in mere minutes. In addition to direct nuclear explosions it appeared the humans had found a way of weaponizing their own atmosphere launching electromagnetic pulses over the remaining ships with high altitude detonations. In the end no ships left earths surface and the few that were still intact were disabled and captured by human EMP’s. Analysis from back at the home fleet could make no sense of it. No species had ever fought back with more than improvised weapons, much less with weapons of the type that they themselves carried. How could a species such as this have possible survived to this point? They had demonstrated their cruelty, their avarice, and complete lack of morals to the humans and had found themselves looking into a mirror. In that mirror was the one thing they had tried so desperately to escape, something that could bring them and their entire civilization to their knees and they had just gifted this horror with the technology to do it. | 2019-06-11T15:33:47 | 2019-06-11T11:41:24 | 82 | 28 |
[WP] The current rulers of the galaxy exert their dominance by showing showing new races a glimpse of their terrifying nature inevitably either driving the unfortunate victims mad or causing them to retreat in fear. It does not work on humans however, they are used to it | "Looks like you picked up the wrong guy... This is nothing compared to Afghanistan...," he chuckled, seemingly to himself.
The three that called themselves the Sylph Clan Chiefs recoiled in shock at how completely unphased their prisoner was. "These fates befall all who will not kneel before out might!," they bellowed. "Surely they will befall your planet if you do not bow!"
His captors had been showing Corporal Garrett Charlotte videos of mangled bodies, and burning cities. Hardly any more graphic than what he saw in combat.
"Guys... these are just videos from liveleak... how did you even get access to the internet out here? You know what ... It doesn't matter. I just want to finish my dinner and get back to the station before my ship leaves.. if I miss this jump it's seven more cycles until I can catch the next one, and my wife will kill me.."
"Is she the ruler of your world?" The scrawny one asked, its voice waivering. It looked like a bird without feathers? Kinda human mixed with a lizard? Garrett couldn't put his finger on it...
"Yeah, I guess you could say that.," Garrett said with a wry grin. "Why do you ask, anyways?"
"Well, from my limited knowledge of your language, wife means you have joined... What is the word?... Houses? If that is true, the she wields the same power as the king! You are the king of Earth, are you not?". It asked demandingly.
"What!? King? What gave you the idea I was the King of the Wo-....... Oh.... Oooooooh!". Garrett began laughing. More than he had in a long time. Deep belly laughing. As he wiped the tears from his eyes, he cleared his throat, and composed himself. "You mean my shirt?"
The three nodded emphatically.
"It's from a movie called Titanic." | It had been 2 weeks since contact. During the first week the aliens came down in their grand ships of gold and diamond, making an elegant display of their status amongst the galaxy. The humanoid beings had fashioned similar appendages to ancient human royalty; thick capes made of regal feathers, crowns of gold and gemstone, crystal sceptres, elegant armour, and a wealth of jewellery.
​
While the aliens were reported on heavily during their first few days, gloating of their superiority and dominance over lesser species quickly became boring and they did... nothing. Two weeks after their landing on Earth, they commandeered all TV stations and began to play a video for the world to see.
​
There were people sitting in a cinema watching something on the screen. The camera was pointed at the faces of the people in the audience as they reacted in shock and horror to whatever they were seeing. Then the clip ended and a news anchor appeared on screen with one of the aliens beside him, looking overly smug.
​
The news anchor stared in bewilderment for a moment, one eyebrow lowered and the other raised with wrinkles creasing the skin on his middle aged forehead.
​
"What... Uh... What was that?"
​
The alien responded in English, although it had picked up a french accent not too different from a Monty Python sketch.
​
"Zat vill be your reAck-shon if ve show you all ze trrable trrable sings ve av done to ozzer species who deed not bow to us."
​
"And... after showing us this... what did you think would happen?" said the news anchor, still puzzled.
​
"VELL! Ven ve show you showing you how trrable ve all aRe, you vill submit to our deevine rule and ve vill conquer your planeet!"
​
"But... we didn't see anything."
​
"Non, but you av seen yourselves seeing uz as beeg scrry monzteirs, an zat is vrry vrry scary, and so you vill cry and ve vill become your rulerz like evry ozzer planeet and ve vill laugh at you."
​
The alien sat so proud in its seat with a wide, pompous smile as it waited for all people to submit. The news anchor, however, burst into laughter.
​
"If that's all it takes to be the rulers of the galaxy, then I guess it'll be easy for us to take over!" he said, wiping away tears. "How could showing showing us something, without us actually seeing seeing that something, achieve anything!?" He could barely squeeze the words out through his wheezes of laughter. The alien looked shocked, and the crews echo of laughter behind the camera deflated that alien more-so.
​
"I am shocked by zis revelay-shon. Zis planeet iz despicable, ve do not vant to av any part in it. Ve spit at you and take our leave. Au revoir!"
​
The alien got up and left the room while the anchor and crew rolled in fits of laughter.
​
End.
​
This was a play on the mistake in your prompt, in which you have written "showing" twice. Thanks for the prompt, I had fun =) | 2019-06-11T15:47:00 | 2019-06-11T14:30:48 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] You are the King's must trusted advisor. Your advice has saved the kingdom from devastation many times. There's just one problem: You're actually trying to sabotage the King with the worst advice you can think of, but it always somehow works out. | Dear Diary,
I hate this new guy we took on as king. Today I told him to charge the people double gold coins for our crops because we need to do some renos on the castle wall and that's not cheap. He agreed. What an idiot. They'll hang him for this for sure.
Dear Diary,
. . . Apparently, our crops are now considered *bougie* and we are making an insane profit just from selling wheat and corn off the king's land. I have been promoted. Fuck me.
Dear Diary,
I advised our king to pour the hot tar over our exterior castle wall since we are not currently at war and do not need it. He agreed. What a waste of resources and man power. Moron. Can't wait for him to be superseded.
Dear Diary,
The tar has strengthened our walls and rendered them impassable. We are being hailed as the strongest fortress in the lands and our king, a genius leader. He gave me a bonus. You've got to be kidding me.
Dear Diary,
There's a small kingdom next to ours that poses no threat and we've been at peace for decades. Plus our people and theirs get along. I suggested we attack. The king agreed. This will bite him in the ass for sure. I swear, he's got cheese for brains.
Dear Diary,
Unaware to us, the kingdom next door was being overrun by unruly Vikings who were making the people there work for them and their kind. When we attacked, our royal solider battalion eliminated all high ranking Vikings and we liberated the people from five years of oppression. I am now the most trusted and respected adviser in our history. Perfect.
Dear Diary,
Since my last entry, everyone and anyone has been coming to me for advice. I have been running things around here for the last 4 moons while the king has been taking advantage of his new celebrity status. He has been out every night sleeping with random concubines, going through our historic barely and ale reserve (which I don't even know how he found since it's in barrels in the deep cellars that were built before he was even born) and then he went on to disturb our live stock. 'Cow tipping' is what he called it. This can't last. Eventually the people will see him as the fraud that he is.
Dear Diary,
The rulers of distant nations have heard of our king and his 'cow tipping' ways. They think he's hilarious. They believe him to be a god among men. Thanks to him and my advice, we have now created a peace through-out the lands and all the people have never been so happy and fulfilled. I fucking hate this guy.
Dear Diary,
Our king has been promoted to emperor of many lands. I, in turn, have been promoted to king. This is horseshit. | Korth slumped down against the railing, looking out disbelieving as the rising cheers of the crowd filled the city. The army had returned victorious against all odds, even after the army itself should have been an impossibility...
How! It should have been impossible, the Dark Elves had always betrayed any other race at every opportunity since history had been recorded. Having the King treat with them to oppose the more powerful Human kingdoms, which were preparing for another campaign to push further into non-human territory and expand their borders, should have been the end of this kingdom.
The powerful Human kingdoms would, and had, united against the country that would dare ally with monsters to stop a war with non-humans. It should have been a quick one sided battle, with the Dark Elves either withdrawing at the last minute or attacking from behind before the Kingdom would be swept under the combined Human armies might. That would have left him in charge of a large province carved from the kingdom and absorbed by another, and much richer for it.
Instead the armies... ALL the major Human kingdoms had been defeated, and all the leaders and a fair share of the nobility had been assassinated. Because of THEM!
At the head of the returning army, hand in hand, were the ones responsible. A Wood Elf Priest and Dark Elf Priestess. Newly fallen in love and chosen champions of their gods...
The mage regretted blasting that spy to dust for delivering a report a few hours earlier, he had thought it some terrible attempt at misdirection... But it all seemed true...
The gods were the god of their domain, there were no two gods of different races that claimed the same influence. The god of the sun was part of the Wood Elf pantheon, and had fought with the Dark Elf goddess of darkness when the multiverse was young, ever since the two races of elves had fought mercilessly.
The 'diplomatic' expedition Korth had put together had included a Wood Elf Priest, against much protest, under the excuse that his blessings would be needed to see deep under the earth without hurting the underdwellers eyes. Really the pride both races and religious casts were famous for was supposed to cause friction in negotiations and insult to the rulers. However, according to the report, the Priest had somehow fallen in love with a well connected Priestess, who had smoothed the negotiations as well as the... reconciliation.
Not only that! Impossibly, through the love of their two young followers, the Elven gods themselves reconciled. Throwing away untold millennia of animosity to end their races conflict, as well as encourage sharing between the underexpanse and the surface.
THAT had been the deciding factor in the short war. When the Human armies met the kingdoms allied forces, even with the sun no longer hurting the Dark Elves eyes or weakening their magic, they were outnumbered and overpowered. Until, just before the armies were ready to clash, darkness rose and spread across the battlefield for miles. No light shone past a few inches in it, no magic could dispel it, and a dark mass of expanse monsters and races rose to sweep over the blind Humans.
The god of light had not only allowed the under-races access to the surface without harm, the two gods had given each other leave to influence the world in their domains. The celestial cycles and natural lighting be damned.
Turning from the quickly forming parade in disgust, Korth burnt the crumpled report with a dismissive flick, disintegrating as it flew through the air. He would have to move fast, there were still some operatives in the city that had known something of the plan, and they would have to die fast. He probably had a feast to plan soon, and HE would need to be well and truly drunk before that happened.
Casting a wave of flame he watcher the temporary study, and most of the evidence of this last plot, begin to go up in smoke. He took one book from a shelf near the door before he hurried out, a forbidden tome of summoning. After this all settled down maybe he could convince the King that Demons were just misunderstood souls enslaved against their will… If the demons, or a resulting holy inquisition, didn’t topple this kingdom he didn’t know what would!
Pausing, thinking, the Mage that the King considered his closest friend and wisest advisor went back to collect one more text. A compilation of known, and suspected, eldritch horrors that all reputable magic schools and kingdoms had banned people from even thinking about. Just in case. | 2019-07-07T18:40:41 | 2019-07-07T17:00:42 | 133 | 60 |
[WP] You are an immortal that got sentenced to permanent burial over 1000 years ago. Today a team of archaeologists just dug you up. | Most people don't consider the small problems that come with immortality. It's always about how you'll end up knowing so much, or that you're pretty much guaranteed that you'll end up buried alive, but nobody really thinks about the annoying stuff.
Sure, being buried alive sucks and you run out of ways to amuse yourself after a few short decades, but the worst thing you have to deal with isn't watching years go by with nothing but your thoughts.
The worst part, the most annoying thing, is when you finally escape.
The people who dug me up seem to be some kind of scholars. It looks like they're writing down notes on everything they find and they're using some kind of complex machine to catalog everything.
The advancements in the sciences that you've missed is the first big annoyance. From what I can gather, they've managed to harness lightning in some fashion and combined that with very tiny mechanical pieces similar to what I read of Archimedes' work. The metallurgy seems heavily advanced from what I knew as well.
The next big annoyance is the absolute worst - languages. No one seems to speak any of the languages I know except for one man who speaks something that sounds like the uneducated dialects spoken in a pauper's district. I can only understand every third word or so, but we've been making progress.
The last big annoyance is the only one that I derive any sort of pleasure from. As they begin to realize what I am, they always have the same reaction of wanting to study me so that they can become what I am.
The horror on their faces as they realize just how far from human I have become is the only good thing about all of this. | I gave a terrific wheeze as I stepped out of the tomb, the joints in my feet giving loud cracks, my shoulders heavy and aching.
Five humans, scattered in a circle, blood seeping out of their orifices, leaving trickles of crimson on the earthy ground. The antechamber had been all but mutilated in the effort to excise whatever the tomb held.
At once, I didn't know what they intended to find within my eternal casket. Riches? Fame? Wealth? Power? I once had all four, to their credit. I stepped over the corpses, the skin on my soles gossamer and easily-bruised. The cut talons on my feet still scraped against the hard earth, giving a shrill shriek with every minute drag of my leg. I paused, at the middle of the makeshift circle, surveying the scene intently.
*Five broken bodies, five bloody knives, and, oh? One charred piece of...*
I bent down, feeling my vertebrae rearrange like the picks of a lock, and picked up the burnt relic at the convergence of each streak of blood. I held it in my palm, and my eyes widened.
*True Amber? But, how? How did humans find it? To somehow discover it outside of the Underworld is a feat, yes, a feat.*
It had been one-thousand years since the shackles had been fastened to my ankles and my wrists, the chain wrapped around my neck like a noose. My talons had been snapped with the sharp slice of a sword, my wings tied to my back. I had struggled and struggled, but through True Amber, the very last piece of True Amber on Earth, I had been sealed. With only that substance could I ever be brought back from my eternal slumber, no matter how powerful I grew underneath the slabs of stone that made up my resting place, absorbing the energies of the world as I perceived war, disaster, famine, and societal strife.
I made my way to the front of the chamber, where several urns, full of God knows what.
*They willingly released me, no? This was no trick of fate, no accident. It appears that my name hath been discovered once more.*
With a quick gesture I unfurled my wings, spreading them out in the spacious entrance, and shattered each urn with a swift strike, which left black, glossy, feathers scattered through the air.
*They hath discovered my name, and hath discovered my element. To whom do I owe this pleasure?*
The ravens which exited the urns in hordes wrapped themselves up in my wings and around my paper-thin skin until every inch of me, save for my face, was covered in a rock-like armor of feathers and spines. My newfound talons extended, making clear indents in the ground in front of me. For the first time in a thousand years, I felt alive.
I walked out under the curtain of stars, the faint light of fire in the distance illuminating an army of men, who prostrated themselves before me.
"Their lives for yours, our lives for yours." they chanted. "We prostrated ourselves before you, King of Kings, Lord Malphas."
I looked out into the distance, where what I believed was the Gate of Hell sent fire into the night sky.
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
r/bluelizardK | 2019-10-26T00:08:22 | 2019-10-25T22:02:41 | 260 | 189 |
[WP] A person’s superpowers will unlock when the conditions are right. The good thing about this is that a lot of people’s powers unlocked during the zombie apocalypse. The bad thing? There’s now a lot of superpowered zombies everywhere. | A lot of people were convinced the Bite wasn't that big of a deal. A lot of people thought their power could handle it: fire, lasers, ice, sound, wind, earth, all of it manipulated in slightly different ways. A lot of people thought they could fight through whatever came their way, or at least protect themselves.
A lot of people were wrong.
The thing people didn't realize about the Bite is that it doesn't reduce mental capacity or intelligence. It simply rearranges some motivations. People went from being people with super powers to being people with super powers with a tinge of bloodthirsty cannibalism. Well, maybe more than a tinge.
Cities turned to bloodstained arenas within days and were looted to the bone even faster. Some cities had factions, some were free-for-alls. The bite spread like wildfire at first, and only slowed down because the number of potential victims got lower and lower.
The normal humans went first, poor bastards. Probably wouldn't have stood a chance in a normal epidemic, much less a super powered one. Then, the people with more utilitarian powers like mind-reading and x-ray vision went next. Surviving and fighting got a little harder, but for the people with the most aggressive powers, it was no problem. I get the feeling some of them even enjoyed it. Finally an outlet for them to truly unleash what they had. Real fucked up if you ask me, but that's beside the point.
Things really started to spiral when some of those hard-hitting supers were Bitten. It's hard enough running from or fighting a swarm of bloodthirsty monsters, but when some are whipping fireballs at you, well, that complicates things.
Every time I run into another group of survivors, the first question they ask is what my powers are. Very presumptuous if you ask me, since not everyone even has powers, but it's especially bothersome to me too. We should be asking each other if we need water or food, or if we need a safe place for the night. Powers only sew the seeds of doubt and suspicion.
I tell people I'm powerless and they look at me like I'm some poor chump, a starving dog in the rain. What they don't know is that in a past life, one that seems so far away now, I made a good living for myself with my power. It was subtle, and all on it's own not very helpful, but with the right training and equipment, made me very dangerous and in turn, very wealthy. Now, it keeps me alive.
Nobody knows how or why powers happen or work. And there are hardly any more medical professionals and scientists to know anything substantial about the Bite. So I won't try to explain why what happened happened or how it lead to who and what I am today. Maybe someday we'll both have answers, but until then, I'm just trying to stay alive.
There were 5 of them. I had bumped into them in a collapsing Wal-Mart, picked clean long ago. They told me of a place about 4 blocks west that had fresh water. I was inclined to believe them, especially since they told me they were powerless, with the exception of a young blond man in his early 20s who sheepishly said he could see through walls.
They were lying. The familiar itch in my brain told me the X-rayer was telling the truth but two of the others had flight and one had some kind of heat manipulation. The itch also indicated all except the X-rayer were Bitten.
That's what I can do. Before the Bite I could tell what super powers people had. And, in turn, any glaring weaknesses they may have had. Most were weak to bullets (not all super powers come with invulnerability), but some were more subtle: loud noises for a mind reader, ink sprays for the invisible. It made me a very capable assassin for the few that a simple gun or knife wouldn't do it for. And, for some reason, I can also tell who's Bitten. Maybe there's a connection between powers and whatever the Bite is, but that's not for me to say.
I followed them until we were a block from their proposed oasis. Bitten have an annoying habit of pretending to be normal and leading you to inevitable doom; a necessary plan when your proposed victim could obliterate you with one hand movement. Like I said, no less intelligent.
My Glock took the two flyers, one in mid air. My last canister of liquid nitrogen and a crow bar shattered the heaters hands, It'd be a pain to find more of that, but it was the quickest way to dispatch of heaters. Some were strong enough to vaporize any water you could throw at them (a second-degree burn down my back reminds me of the day I learned that). I found myself with my gun pointed at the young X-rayer who, admittedly, looked terrified.
"You know they were bitten?" I asked.
"Wha- What?" He stammered, his hands above his head, "They were?"
"Afraid so my man." I say, pushing the empty nitrogen canister into my pouch with my other hand.
"Ho- How do you know?" he asked.
"Intuition." I said, clipping my bag back up, "Or something of the like. Why should I believe you didn't know?
"I-I don't know" he admitted. "I couldn't prove that to you even if I wanted to. I just wanted some water". He seemed defeated.
The itch couldn't read minds. But my actual intuition told me he didn't know. It took a real monster to team up with the Bitten, I'd seen it first hand. This poor kid didn't have it in him. I lowered my Glock and reached into my bag.
The kid looked up as a water bottle hit him in the head. He flinched, then his eyes darted back up at me. "Don't drink it all in one place." I said as I started walking away.
"Wait!" he called. "Where are you going?"
I turned and pointed behind me, "This way, it seems."
"I wouldn't." he said, "There's at least 11 people about two blocks from here and I get the feeling the meat they're cooking isn't filet mignon."
There were some things the itch couldn't tell me. I chuckled. I liked this kid.
"You knew I wasn't Bitten but not that?" he said, getting up. "Seems like we could help each other."
"Maybe." I said, "But I don't make a habit of making friends these days."
"Who said anything about being friends? I just want your water." he said smiling. I chuckled again. Maybe the world wasn't so bad after all. And who knows, maybe he could come in handy. I started walking the opposite direction.
“You coming?" I asked. We walked up the street, leaving the bodies of the Bitten behind.
Edit: a few typos | The front door of the sedan closed with a satisfying *thunk*. I stepped out onto the pavement, taking a deep breath of humid air. It smelled like falling leaves and worms and dirt and diesel fumes. Nothing rotten. Nothing dead. It was a good start to an otherwise asinine mission.
Jane walked around from the other side of the car. She wore black sunglasses and a leather shoulder sling, each bedazzled with glitter glue. Her shotgun was equally ordained with delicate etchings and mesmerizing curlicues. Deadly but beautiful.
“The spiders are quiet,” she said.
“What are they saying?”
“Run. Flee. Hide”—she tapped on the tinted glass of the passenger window—“I don’t like this any more than you do. You know that.”
Sadeem tapped back. Grumbling, he stepped out clumsily. His hair was long and tangled in dreadlocks, matted a bit from napping the whole time, and his eyes were drooped and weary.
“Wake up, sleepyhead!” Jane said, flicking his shoulder.
Sadeem blinked hard and cleared his head.
We stood for a moment and surveyed the warehouse exterior. Its metal roof had rusted away, doors sunk on the hinges, windows cracked. It was dark and cold and lifeless.
Jane knelt down and put her hand on the ground. She closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and held it, listening to the voices of the insects.
“The spiders are talking. Four sealed boxes. Zombies,” she said.
“Medicine?” I asked. “How many of them?”
“It’s sealed. Dammit; they don’t know.”
“Shit.”
Sadeem nodded. He popped the trunk. He handed me my rifle and three spare magazines. Jane eventually stood up, having nothing else to hear. She grabbed her shotgun.
“We should call for backup,” she said.
Sadeem grunted in affirmation.
“No,” I said. “I’m going in.”
I had no choice. Davis was stuck back at base. His infection was spreading. He was going to die, and then he was going to turn, and then any hope we had of rescue would die with him. And his newfound powers were only growing stronger, strange and miraculous as they were. We needed him. I needed him.
I shouldered my rifle and approached the warehouse door. The blue paint was chipped and cracked, and the handle was stuck. Grunting, I put my weight against it. The handle snapped clean off. The door reverberated with a huge groan and a clang of steel that echoed through the building. Subtlety was over.
Jane smirked. “Nice going.”
Sadeem chuckled nervously.
The three of us forced open the door and stepped into the dark warehouse. The only light flitted down in beams from holes in the ceiling. Rays of dust illuminated tired shelves, long abandoned, untouched for years. Our footsteps echoed on the concrete floor.
“I don’t like this,” Jane said.
“Just find the medicine. Then we get the hell out of here.”
“Agreed.”
I scanned the shelves. Row after row of cardboard boxes had long decayed, leaving behind only memories and artifacts from a happier time. Plastic dolls. Wireless chargers. Weighted blankets half eaten by moths. It was like a museum.
“Look at this!” Jane said.
Penicillin.
I could have kissed Jane right then and there. We had found it. We were going to save Davis. We were going to be alright. I sighed in relief. Sadeem hooted in glee. I think we all dropped our guard for a second, taking in the thrill of victory after such a long chase, bathing in the glory of our success.
Jane tensed.
She paled. Shiver ran down her spine and she shouldered her rifle, sweeping around so suddenly that it caught both Sadeem and me complexly by surprise.
“The spiders sent me a warning,” she whispered.
I flicked off the safety and took a defensive stance. Sadeem started shoveling as much of the medicine as he could into the pockets of his cargo shorts.
I took a cautious step towards the exit. “What did they say?”
“Beneath.”
The zombie smashed up through the concrete floor like it was made of paper.
We called them bruisers. Six feet tall, reeking of decay, stronger than an elephant, these zombies had no mortal equal. They were the husks of men cursed with immeasurable strength. They hungered ceaselessly, these apex predators. There was nothing that could stand in their way, no obstacle they couldn’t destroy, and no fight they couldn’t win.
Seeing Jane, it roared and charged.
Jane blew a fist-size hole in its head.
Jane quickly reloaded while it toppled lifeless to the concrete. One bruiser was no threat to us, but I was more concerned with the growing crescendo of shambling and groaning. Rotten hands grasped the edges of the hole. Regular zombies. They started to climb.
“Run. Just run,” I said.
Jane shot the first zombie square in the chest. “No! We can’t leave the supplies.”
I aimed my rifle and caught the second one in the shoulder. With any luck, that would be lethal. More zombies came clambering up from the darkness. Five. Ten. Jane and I were losing ground and running out of ammunition. But we were so close! We couldn’t turn back now.
We were so focused on the zombies in before us that we didn’t notice the one sneaking up behind us.
Sadeem shouted.
I whipped around. There stood the most pristine-looking zombie I had ever seen. There were no signs of decay in its flesh, no sagging skin, no festering sores. It looked completely human. But there was darkness in its eyes. There was hunger in its open, dripping mouth. There was blood beneath its fingernails.
I shot it once in the chest. It recoiled. Flesh closed in around the wound and spat the bullet back out like a broken vending machine. Its muscles rippled. It howled in delight, a primal scream that brought the hair on the nape of my neck standing on edge. Seemingly unphased, it lurched towards Sadeem.
Jane pivoted and blew half of its face away.
I expected it to drop like a rock. Instead, it stood still in exactly the way zombies shouldn’t. Chills ran down my spine. Of every creature I had seen before, nothing compared to this. It squirmed. It shivered. It regenerated completely.
It was nearly on top of Sadeem. There was nothing we could do but pump lead into the crazed creature and hope for the best. Nothing could stop it. The crazed juggernaut of a zombie was invulnerable.
And Sadeem just stood there. He didn’t try to run. He didn’t fight. The creature lurched forward, arms swinging, jowls unlatched. Jane screamed. Sadeem brought a finger to his lips.
The creature collapsed.
It toppled over and fell face-first onto the concrete with a satisfying thump. Sadeem took a neat sidestep and brushed a wad of saliva from his jeans. He twirled in place and shot finger guns into the air. An uneasy silence overtook the warehouse.
“Is it dead?” I asked, a bit dumbstruck.
Jane prodded the zombie with the tip of her rifle. “Sleeping.”
“That’s incredible. That’s fantastic!”—I turned towards Sadeem—"Did you do that?”
Sadeem nodded.
“Where the hell has that been all along?”
Sadeem grinned and shrugged.
Jane whistled. “Shit, Sadeem. I never knew.”
We took a moment to survey the surroundings. The warehouse walls loomed above us like walls to a cage. Wind rustled through gaps in the concrete. Mice pitter-pattered. Water dripped in gentle, steady plinks. We listened for shuffling and heard nothing—only our own breaths—and the steady wheezing from the unconscious monstrosity. We considered further exploration into the tunnels and weighed our options. Level heads prevailed. We fled.
​
***
More apocalypse stories at r/BLT_WITH_RANCH | 2019-12-31T19:41:15 | 2019-12-31T19:09:50 | 39 | 12 |
[WP] A fortune teller foretold that twins would be born where one was evil and the other was good. A year later, a woman gave birth to a boy with horns and bat wings, and a girl with angel wings and a halo. The boy was sent away, while she and her husband raised the girl. They kept the wrong one. | They called it Delphi. Named after the famed Sanctuary of Apollo, the machine's purpose was to read fetus DNA and report to parents what attitudes and predispositions their child would carry. Everyone who could afford to brought their children there, and its' decisions carried unimaginable weight. Athletes, politicians, CEO's, and most other celebrities and world leaders were placed in those positions by suggestion from Delphi. If a family couldn't afford the hefty fee, their child was essentially held to a life of mediocrity.
Rain spattered across the windshield as they approached the building. The Van De Merwe family was one of the priveleged who could afford the fee. In fact, they planned on claiming it as a tax write off in that year's return. They arrived at the facility, gossiping about what the machine would say about their baby and cracking jokes about the possibilities they could encounter. Stepping from the car and into the pouring rain, they ran laughing to the door where they were greeted warmly by the latest model A.I.D.
*"Hello! Welcome to Delphi! May I take your coats?"* Despite improvements in assistant's voice features, there was still something off about the cadence and tone the robot used that distinguished it from human speech. Tony and Brandy hung their jackets from it's outstretched arm.
*"Right this way, please!"*
They followed the A.I.D. through the lobby, down the polished halls and into their room with Delphi. It looked like any hospital room, but with a large screen on the far wall which suddenly came to life.
*"Welcome to Delphi!"* a young woman on the screen greeted them, *"Here you'll get all the answers every parent wants about your children! Are you ready to begin?"*
Tony and Brandy both excitedly confirmed that they were indeed ready.
*"Great! This is really easy and will only take a second. Will the mother-to-be please lay on the bed?"* She did, *"Now wait just a moment and a doctor will be with you shortly"*
A brief moment later, a doctor appeared. After giving them a rundown of the procedure, he started doing doctorly stuff and left the room with two samples.
*"And that's it! Just wait here for your results!"*
The screen flicked off and they were left to themselves, continuing their banter from the car about the various attributes their child could possess but eventually settling into bored silence. After an eternity of waiting, the screen came back on. There was no woman, no friendly voice this time. Just results plastered across the wall. Their boredom built back into elated whispers as they read;
*Female- Kind-hearted. Helpful. Will tend to do well with others. Stubborn. Not likely to listen when ideas conflict with hers. Will tend to be good natured.*
It was what every parent wanted to hear. They almost couldn't contain their joy and began reading the next section;
*Male- Arrogant. Deceitful. Malicious. Possible sociopath. Psychologist recommended. May be dangerous.*
They were stunned. Amongst their talk, it had only jokingly come up that one of their children could be evil. Neither had expected that to actually be a possibility. Back home, they ruminated on what to do as the rain continued to patter on their windows outside.
"Should we abort it?"
"Absolutely not! Can you imagine what my mother would say? I'd be disowned!"
"Well we can't keep it here. You saw the report. That child will be dangerous!"
"*Could* be," Brandy sputtered unconvincingly, "We could bring him to a therapist like Delphi recommended?"
"And what if that doesn't work? I will not stand by while my daughter's life is put at risk for this- this monster!"
Tony had finally found the right word. One that described what he felt, deep down, that boy was. He couldn't know that, in the hall back at Delphi, the doctor had mislabeled the results.
That comment though would drive a wedge between them that was only deepened by the appearance if the children when they were born. Nobody had ever seen anything like it. Doctors were baffled. Medical science couldn't explain it. The daughter mysteriously had wings like a dove and a smile that lit up the room. The boy had horns and small, batlike wings. Tony used this to further his stance that the boy must be eliminated. Brandy told him if he really wanted it gone that badly, she'd go too. She didn't feel that a baby who hadn't yet had a chance to do anything wrong should be held in such distasteful regard and she left, taking the children with her. After months spent on lawyers and family courts, Tony won what he had wanted; his prize daughter while Brandy was left with their devilish son.
Thanks for reading! Let me know if this interests you and I'll continue it later but I need to go for now | It was early in the morning, I could hear the birds chirping. I opened my eyes just a little only to see my little girl Jessy there. I was happy to see her until I realized she was holding a knife. That was the 5th time this week she has woke me up like this. I wish we would have kept her brother. We noticed from a young age she was different. She always cried even when we gave her what she wanted. I thought maybe this was just normal baby stuff everyone said it would get better. Spoiler alert it never did. She’s six now and always finds a way to try and hurt us. She doesn’t have many friends. The adoption agency finally told me I could get my boy back by next year. He was still in the foster system so it was easy to get him. I haven’t seen him since he was born.
*a year later*
Today we finally get our boy back. We don’t know what we’re going to do with Jessy. We named our boy Lucas before giving him away at birth.
*a week later*
Jessy seems meaner lately. She hasn’t tried to hurt us but she keeps warning us we should get rid of Lucas. I told her we’re not getting rid of Lucas. No matter how many times I tell her she still tries to convince us he’s bad news. There birthday is coming up soon. I plan on bringing Jessy to a military school. She has to be at least 9 so I will try to give her the best birthday ever. I’m sending her for her own good. She won’t stop lying and holding knives like she’s ready to attack someone if they make her mad. The military school is very good to there students and it’s nothing like any of the other schools I’ve seen. I know this will be good for her. I still love Jessy very much but I just can’t give her the help she needs at home.
*the twins birthday*
I woke them up this morning and sang them happy birthday. When we went downstairs I told them they could have anything they wanted for breakfasts. There dad took Lucas to a roller skating rink while I took Jessy to a trampoline park. This is the happiest I’ve seen Jessy in a long time. It makes me sad that I’m sending her off tomorrow. It was a good day today everyone had fun and we ate a lot of cake.
*the next day*
I didn’t tell Jessy we were sending her to military school I just told her we were bringing her somewhere for a bit and to pack her bags. I told her it was like a summer camp. When we got to the gates it seemed very nice. Everyone was so sweet and welcoming and they seemed like they were very nice to there students. When Jessy found out what I was doing she cried and begged me to not leave her here. She said Lucas should be the one here and she did nothing wrong. The security guards quickly directed me to the exit. The whole way home I cried. I didn’t know if I made the right decision but I had to be strong for Lucas and Jessy.
*two years later*
Jessy has been in and out of the school. She’s gotten better at some points and worse at others. Today Jessy gets to come home again for who knows how long. Lucas seems happy she’s coming home. We all had a nice family dinner and Jessy seems happy to be home.
Jessy has been home for a week now has been very good. She seems a little nervous sometimes but other then that she’s doing good.
*later that night*
I was sleeping peacefully when all of a sudden a boom went threw the house. I realized it was the sound of a gunshot. I rushed to Jessy’s room only to find her bleeding out on her bed. I ran over to put pressure on her wound while I yelled for my husband to call 911. I saw little Lucas sitting in the corner of her room, he look terrified. I asked him what happened. He said “I came in here cause I thought I heard her crying. When I walked in though she pointed a gun at me. She tried to shoot at me but the gun wouldn’t shoot. I ran and pulled it out of her hands and pointed it at her. All of a sudden it fired I didn’t even pull the trigger!”. He was talking fast and crying so I hardly understood him but there was no time to wonder what happened I had to make sure Jessy was ok. The ambulance arrived and I tried to go with her but the police said I needed to stay behind for questioning. After hours of questioning they finally released me and my husband to go see Jessy. They said the had to keep Lucas for a little longer. Jessy was on a breathing machine. I found out the bullet almost hit her heart. She was passed out they said she should wake up tomorrow or the next day but she wouldn’t be able to talk. I cried and prayed that she would live.
*the next day*
Jessy woke up but was very dazed. The police came in to talk to her. We still hadn’t seen Lucas we assumed he was picked up by my sister but we didn’t have enough time to call and ask. After the police talked to Jessy for what felt like hours they finally informed me they had arrested the person who did this. At first I was happy then I realized they were talking about my son.
“What?”
Police “we’ve arrested your son for attempted murder”
It all came crashing down I tried to explain it was an accident but they said he tried to kill her. He confesses to coming to her room with a gun in a attempt to kill her. They said there was proof. How could my little boy do this I thought he was the good twin.
*trial day*
It’s all come out everything he did. He tried to kill her. Every time we woke up with Jessy holding a knife she was trying to protect us. She was scared he would come hurt us. It doesn’t make sense to me either. Today Lucas goes to trial. He’s tried to say he was innocent for the longest time but when the police showed him all the evidence they had against him he confessed. A year after Lucas tried to kill Jessy she’s still broken. I found out she’s the good one not him. I tried to keep the wrong one. I tried to get rid of Jessy even though she’s the best girl anyone could ask for.
Edit: I’m not a writer so sorry for this being kinda boring and having horrible punctuation. :) | 2020-05-07T09:38:51 | 2020-05-07T08:18:26 | 26 | 17 |
[WP] A fortune teller foretold that twins would be born where one was evil and the other was good. A year later, a woman gave birth to a boy with horns and bat wings, and a girl with angel wings and a halo. The boy was sent away, while she and her husband raised the girl. They kept the wrong one. | It seemed so obvious at first.
The boy bared the appearance of the Devil, born with demonic wings as dark as sin and the beginnings of horns sprouting on his brow. Their daughter, on the other hand, was the epitome of an Angel, a golden halo already floating upon her head and the beginnings of white wings growing from her back. To them, it was apparent who needed to be dealt with lest they destroyed humanity.
If only her father hadn’t been so sentimental and sent the boy away with his most trusted and strongest knight before they could do what was necessary. On the other hand, it gave her and her husband the perfect excuse to finally have her father pass the mantle of king and queen to them, clearly becoming senile in his old age and thus no longer able to rule efficiently. He was kept to his chambers, served by his most loyal of servants. Of course, she always tried to visit him with her daughter. After all, despite his poor choices, he was family... and perhaps, he would finally be willing to them her where he sent the boy.
But all he would do was stare at her with pity in his eyes, fear overcoming him upon setting his sights on her daughter.
He died only a few years later, found by her beautiful little angel who alerted all who could hear of what happened.
She was too busy mourning the loss of her father to notice the wicked smile on her daughter’s face or the way her daughter’s eyes glowed, looking as cold as ice.
Upon the passing of her father, she began sending out search parties for the boy. The men who once refused due to their loyalty to her father could no longer do so, begrudging leaving to do their duty.
Yet no one ever found the boy.
She and her husband could feel tensions growing each year the boy was left free. The servants would whisper to each other fearfully, only to become silent upon noticing her presence, her daughter smiling angelically by her side.
She simply wished that the servants knew that it was alright to discuss their fears about the boy. After all, there was no safer place than the home of her Angel.
As the years passed, the heavy presence in the air only grew. Servants were being replaced more and more often, a great deal of them running off into the night to parts unknown. Eventually, it soon became too difficult to find replacements, people becoming fearful of why so many were running off.
The only solace she could take was that there were rumors of an unnamed knight who was protecting the people of her land, his identity unknown. She had heard tales of his great feats: slaying man-eating dragons, rescuing villages from bandits, protecting their borders from invaders.
She could only imagine the power he could give her daughter if they were to wed.
Thus, she discussed it with her daughter as she brushed her daughter’s silky hair, as she did every night.
She was surprised by the sneer on her daughter’s face.
“Why would I do that? I’m perfectly happy as I am now.”
She smiled imploringly at her daughter.
“My sweet, it’s only right for you to marry and continue our bloodline. If you marry him, you can rule side by side and have one of the greatest reigns in all of history.”
Her daughter let out an unlady-like snort, prompting a frown to form on her face.
“I still don’t see why I would need him. I’m perfectly capable of ruling on my own. I’ve already shown the servants that.”
She paused in her brushing.
“What do you mean, my Sweet Angel?”
Her daughter remained silent. She grabbed her daughter’s chin and pulled her face towards her.
“What. Do. You. Mean?”
“I simply mean that any who questioned me I had properly punished, as was their due.”
She felt her heart stop.
“Punished...?”
Her daughter gave a light nod before turning away to await the brushing to begin once more.
“Yes, I did to them what I did to Grandfather, although they did taste better than him. Their souls weren’t as old.”
The brush dropped out of her hand.
“...what?”
Her daughter picked up the dropped brush and continued to stroke her hair, as though she said nothing amiss.
“Yes, Grandfather’s was a little gamey. Could have used a bit more flavor. Too much sorrow and not enough fear. The servants though...” her daughter stopped brushing to look at her mother, her eyes like cold ice, “well, their fear was just delicious.”
The brush was placed back into her mother’s hands, hanging loosely in her grasp.
Her daughter, her supposed Angel, lifted her perfect brow up, as though to ask why her mother wasn’t brushing her hair.
She did so, more from fear than love.
The only thought circulating through her mind was that they had chosen the wrong child.
Part 2 is up | It was early in the morning, I could hear the birds chirping. I opened my eyes just a little only to see my little girl Jessy there. I was happy to see her until I realized she was holding a knife. That was the 5th time this week she has woke me up like this. I wish we would have kept her brother. We noticed from a young age she was different. She always cried even when we gave her what she wanted. I thought maybe this was just normal baby stuff everyone said it would get better. Spoiler alert it never did. She’s six now and always finds a way to try and hurt us. She doesn’t have many friends. The adoption agency finally told me I could get my boy back by next year. He was still in the foster system so it was easy to get him. I haven’t seen him since he was born.
*a year later*
Today we finally get our boy back. We don’t know what we’re going to do with Jessy. We named our boy Lucas before giving him away at birth.
*a week later*
Jessy seems meaner lately. She hasn’t tried to hurt us but she keeps warning us we should get rid of Lucas. I told her we’re not getting rid of Lucas. No matter how many times I tell her she still tries to convince us he’s bad news. There birthday is coming up soon. I plan on bringing Jessy to a military school. She has to be at least 9 so I will try to give her the best birthday ever. I’m sending her for her own good. She won’t stop lying and holding knives like she’s ready to attack someone if they make her mad. The military school is very good to there students and it’s nothing like any of the other schools I’ve seen. I know this will be good for her. I still love Jessy very much but I just can’t give her the help she needs at home.
*the twins birthday*
I woke them up this morning and sang them happy birthday. When we went downstairs I told them they could have anything they wanted for breakfasts. There dad took Lucas to a roller skating rink while I took Jessy to a trampoline park. This is the happiest I’ve seen Jessy in a long time. It makes me sad that I’m sending her off tomorrow. It was a good day today everyone had fun and we ate a lot of cake.
*the next day*
I didn’t tell Jessy we were sending her to military school I just told her we were bringing her somewhere for a bit and to pack her bags. I told her it was like a summer camp. When we got to the gates it seemed very nice. Everyone was so sweet and welcoming and they seemed like they were very nice to there students. When Jessy found out what I was doing she cried and begged me to not leave her here. She said Lucas should be the one here and she did nothing wrong. The security guards quickly directed me to the exit. The whole way home I cried. I didn’t know if I made the right decision but I had to be strong for Lucas and Jessy.
*two years later*
Jessy has been in and out of the school. She’s gotten better at some points and worse at others. Today Jessy gets to come home again for who knows how long. Lucas seems happy she’s coming home. We all had a nice family dinner and Jessy seems happy to be home.
Jessy has been home for a week now has been very good. She seems a little nervous sometimes but other then that she’s doing good.
*later that night*
I was sleeping peacefully when all of a sudden a boom went threw the house. I realized it was the sound of a gunshot. I rushed to Jessy’s room only to find her bleeding out on her bed. I ran over to put pressure on her wound while I yelled for my husband to call 911. I saw little Lucas sitting in the corner of her room, he look terrified. I asked him what happened. He said “I came in here cause I thought I heard her crying. When I walked in though she pointed a gun at me. She tried to shoot at me but the gun wouldn’t shoot. I ran and pulled it out of her hands and pointed it at her. All of a sudden it fired I didn’t even pull the trigger!”. He was talking fast and crying so I hardly understood him but there was no time to wonder what happened I had to make sure Jessy was ok. The ambulance arrived and I tried to go with her but the police said I needed to stay behind for questioning. After hours of questioning they finally released me and my husband to go see Jessy. They said the had to keep Lucas for a little longer. Jessy was on a breathing machine. I found out the bullet almost hit her heart. She was passed out they said she should wake up tomorrow or the next day but she wouldn’t be able to talk. I cried and prayed that she would live.
*the next day*
Jessy woke up but was very dazed. The police came in to talk to her. We still hadn’t seen Lucas we assumed he was picked up by my sister but we didn’t have enough time to call and ask. After the police talked to Jessy for what felt like hours they finally informed me they had arrested the person who did this. At first I was happy then I realized they were talking about my son.
“What?”
Police “we’ve arrested your son for attempted murder”
It all came crashing down I tried to explain it was an accident but they said he tried to kill her. He confesses to coming to her room with a gun in a attempt to kill her. They said there was proof. How could my little boy do this I thought he was the good twin.
*trial day*
It’s all come out everything he did. He tried to kill her. Every time we woke up with Jessy holding a knife she was trying to protect us. She was scared he would come hurt us. It doesn’t make sense to me either. Today Lucas goes to trial. He’s tried to say he was innocent for the longest time but when the police showed him all the evidence they had against him he confessed. A year after Lucas tried to kill Jessy she’s still broken. I found out she’s the good one not him. I tried to keep the wrong one. I tried to get rid of Jessy even though she’s the best girl anyone could ask for.
Edit: I’m not a writer so sorry for this being kinda boring and having horrible punctuation. :) | 2020-05-07T08:57:58 | 2020-05-07T08:18:26 | 25 | 17 |
[WP] You’re an immortal 30-year-old-looking serial killer who was sentenced to 1,000 years in prison. After 100 years people started asking questions, but now it’s been 400 years and you’re starting to outlast the prison itself. | The funny thing about humans, is that they are just so innately curious. You tell a human not to go see what is in the next valley over, and they’ll do it. I’m not an exception to that, I mean, legally I’m not human, I can thank the Hague for deciding on that front. Of course, they decided that after the whole Sarajevo thing. So I was sentenced to death, by hanging, and after the fifth day in a row of me just hanging around making wisecracks, they settled on dropping me in a hole in the ground. I mean, if they’d actually listened to the reports of the people that led to my capture, they could have skipped that part, but I digress.
I was not completely sealed into my new prison, which meant that things were looking up on the two centuries I’d spent entombed in a wall in the Vatican, as, frankly, the innate curiosity of humans meant that as much as they would have liked to just seal me up and never acknowledge me again, humanity’s second favourite method to treat things it doesn’t understand, I was instead subjected to a series of scientific experiments. The lack of being legally human meant that, for the first half century, I was subjected to rather invasive searches. I tried explaining to them that Dr Lysenko and Dr Mengele had already done a lot of the same experiments, but apparently the opinion of the subject wasn’t important to these people, also they started to gag me when I started spending days screaming at them in ancient Assyrian. They thought I was cursing them, I was actually recalling some poetry.
The following half century and the new “United Nations Immortal Taskforce” study group tried a new approach. I was moved out of the hole in the ground to something more along the lines of a highly secure mental health facility. I wasn’t allowed interact with the general population of course, but by this point I reckon they had figured out that trying to get any useful data from my genetics was a waste of time. Doctor Li, my first of many psychiatrists over the next century, wouldn’t tell me I was correct, but he didn’t need to, and besides I just pointed out to him that this was still more enjoyable than the time I spent being treated as some sort of hopeful “Monster-Creator”, read as “sperm-bank” while a prisoner of the Persian emperors. Doctor Summers, his replacement after twelve years, was open enough with me to inform me that at this point I was just being used for historical and sociological studies. She was nice and friendly, but only lasted four years before it was found out she was involved in some sort of cult that was viewing me as a divine being.
I hate it when that happens.
Then came Dr Mbangwa, he lasted for twenty years, an impressive period of time considering after those three I started to burn through them in a matter of weeks. As I understand it, he retired peacefully to live amongst his family. He did it a whole six years before that pesky third world war kicked off. Naturally, during that time, any attention to me was somewhat sidelined, though funnily enough I was never totally abandoned. Finally, after the dust settled on that particular conflict, and the victors did as they have done in every war since when Ug hit Og with a rock, I was finally paid attention to again. This time however, they tried a use for me I’d never had before. The Moon. So I was loaded up on a rocket with a bunch of cargo to land on the body orbiting the Earth, the deal being if I survive for thirty years up there doing scientific research, they’d let me go on time served.
It is actually quite peaceful up here, reminds me of the two millennia I spent just floating around under the Pacific. Or at least it was peaceful, until I started to see the flashes on the surface of Earth again. It would appear that my jailers will be a bit too busy to properly commute my sentence for a while yet. | Kill or be killed. Under those terms, the immortal man can be king.
When I first arrived in my kingdom - I think I've actually forgotten what they used to call it - I knew I had a problem. It had amused the justice system of the time to give me one thousand years here to contemplate the gravity of my crimes. It did not, could not know that it would not be enough. But if I wasn't very careful, it soon would.
Within a decade people would start noticing that I wasn't keeping pace with their own deterioration. By the second, doctors would become involved, and by the third, there would be no doubt. They would try to kill me. They don't remember, but they've tried before, and I had no interest in reliving my time with the inquisition. There were all manner of cruel and inventive ways to if not kill an immortal, to at least neutralize one. I should know. I have buried more a few of us to keep our existence, rather, my existence, the carefully kept secret humanity, my muse, taught me it needs to be.
Anonimity is key to an immortal's survival. Prison numbers its denizens conscientiously, so that was a problem. During the first year I studied prison life as much as I could from afar, working out where the power and resources were. The mystique of being sentenced to a millennium kept the wolves at bay only for the first few days. After that, it became a draw for every inmate looking to carve his mark.
So far, not very anonymous then.
As far as the prison medics were concerned, the blood was the other guy's. Just a lucky devil with a big temper and a little tear in his overalls, and I always made sure the other guy bled plenty to sell the conceit. The courts added time, of course, and I got to spend much of it alone, but by the end of the second year I had made a somewhat comfortable place for myself at the head of gang. Simpleminded bigots I would not have given the time of day had I a choice, but at least that made them feel more expendable. For all the human lives I've sacrificed to protect myself, I've never quite succeeded in shedding the last vestiges of conscience. Probably for the best, though. Who else can I look forward to arguing with for eternity?
Really the only thing I truly regret are the tattoos.
I soon resolved that escape was not an option. The world had changed too much. While humanity might in time forget me, the information era - if ever there was a euphemism - made sure that would not be for a very long time. My face had travelled the world, digitally and on the glossy covers of endless crime periodicals and inadequately researched books by bandwagon detective writers. I kept a favorite, though. It's terribly written, gets maybe a tenth of its facts straight, but the title makes me laugh. "The New Ripper"
New.
Well, with anonimity not an option outside, it would have to happen on the inside then. I briefly considered killing another and taking his place as I'd done so many times before in open society, but that was hardly practical here. With some help you can fool a bureaucrat, maybe, but bunkmates are a whole different kind of nasty. Far better then, to just do away with the records entirely. Chaos. The great thing about that is that it requires very little planning, and no one needs to know why they're causing it.
As Niccolo once said, it's better for a ruler to be feared than to be loved. My footsoldiers grudgingly accepted a staged riot to manipulate the guards, and to subsequently cooperate, at least temporarily, with the subjects of their hateful bodyart. All for a chance to stage a massive outbreak. That was never going to happen, but within a day of enacting the revolt, the prison was ours. We had no way out, but we had hostages, and that meant our would-be jailers had no way back in.
But you don't build a nation with four thousand angry brutes alone, give or take a contingent of bewildered stoners. As the years drew on, and the stalemate settled in for the long haul, negotiations with the outside world took a turn for the productive. Even as an entirely new wall went up around the prison, alongside humanitarian aid we secured resources, of a sort, for the release of guards and clerks. It is strange to consider for an outsider, I know, but there were volunteers. Women who had long been in contact with these men of mine, who actually wanted to join them. I made certain they were well accommodated. Incentivizing the creation of future generations of subjects. We'll not speak of the hostages' contribution in this regard.
Inevitably contact with the outside dried up, beyond the occasional glare or round crossing the expanse between walls. Lately, I've been unsure their wall is even manned anymore. Its been cracked by the centuries now, run through with plants. Aid stopped generations ago, and we've learned to do without it. Even longer without electricity, but now even the familiar glow of civilization on the night horizon has gone. I cannot remember when I last saw a contrail.
My anonimity has failed, of course. They're fifteen thousand now, and they know they cannot kill me. It's been of surprisingly little consequence thus far. I continue to heed Niccolo's advice, but it is time to leave now.
This time it won't be an escape, though. It might just be an invasion. | 2020-08-17T03:12:05 | 2020-08-17T03:00:56 | 99 | 36 |
[WP] From your first memories, you've always had a still, small, voice inside your head that gave you the 'right' answer whenever any question arose. The answers have always been peaceful, factual, and fair. This voice has gotten you far. But today, instead of an answer, the voice screamed in terror | "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa," is the only tune that exists now in my head.
My inner voice changed from a small whisper to a booming, hoarse voice.
My heart is racing and my eyes hunt for danger.
In front of me a woman with red hair, navy T-shirt, pentagram necklace and blue jeans.
I ignore her, as I coat my ears with my hands. Doesn't help when the screaming is inside.
*Calm down, calm down*, I beg my inner voice.
The woman notices I'm in trouble and approaches me.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa"
Her lips are moving, but I can't understand a word they are saying.
My temples are throbbing.
*Calm down, calm down*, I whisper to myself one more time.
The woman next to me extends a warm hand on my arm. She helps me reach a bench nearby and sit down.
All of the sudden silence. Beautiful, loved silence.
I pinch my lips together. This is the first time my inner voice does this to me.
*What the fuck?* I question my inner voice.
Nothing, silence.
I glance at the woman next to me. Her smile wavers.
"I'm soo sorry," I say. "A huge headache came out of nowhere."
"That's ok, dear. I sometimes drink too and I know how things can get the morning after."
I say nothing. What could I say? A voice is screaming inside me?
Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.
"Do you want some water?" she asks me as her lips curl up.
"Thank you, I could use some", I say.
She hands me a small bottle with water and I drink it all.
The best water I had in my life. I already feel better.
"Can you handle yourself now?" she asks.
"Yes, thank you very much. I really appreciate your help."
She gets up from the bench, walks a few steps and turns.
"That little voice that screamed inside your head...I trapped it there." | **so I altered the prompt a bit but hope you enjoy!**
My hands trembled as I stared at the red light. My fingers drummed on the wheel, cursing the traffic lights for changing so slow.
*calm down. Everything will be fine*
I sighed and shook my head.
“Will I be late?,” I whispered
*c’mon, don’t be silly. It’s just one red light, you will arrive in no time. The meeting is starting at half past six, and you left at five thirty!*
*'Yes, but what if I misread it? Maybe it’s already too late?*, I thought.
*you have checked your phone three times already. I doubt that you didn’t see the correct time three times in a row*
I grunted and leaned back, my muscles aching from me being stiff like a stick. I felt my anxiety rise up and whisper to me that I’m already too late and that the meeting will be ruined.
The lights changed to green and I let my shoulders go lax at it. I mumbled something not really nice about the traffic and sped up.
*you shouldn’t say that*
“Whatever!,” I said and bit my lip. “Leave me alone, Morality.”
Yes, I named my voice in my head Morality, don’t look at me. It just sounded right. Since I was a kid, that voice was something like a moral compass to me. Or at least showed me what was the right thing to do. I trusted the voice and I was feeling weird when I referred to him as 'the voice'. Or it’s just that I like to give all kinds of things names. That flower‘s name that sits on my roommates nightstand is Orry, our apartment was baptized by me as Caroline, the stray dog that visits the neighborhood looks like a dog whose name would definitely be Fluffy and-
*focus on the road*
“Right, right,” I mumbled and shook myself. “Should I check my phone?”
*no*
“are you *sure*, like, sure-sure that I don’t need to check one more time? I mean, that happened before..”
*it was a mistake by me, but I learned. You are not late*
“I heard some hesitation in that voice!,” I nitpicked.
*you’re being paranoid*
“Maybe so!,” I hissed and sighed at my outburst. “Sorry.”
For the next minute both I and Morality were quiet. I didn’t like the silence. Morality was always there, saying at least something. Either it was advice, or just encouragement to get out of bed and do things, or just motivation and comfort just by the presence of the voice. But sometimes Morality just fell quiet. Like he had gone somewhere. But maybe..I have now a chance.
“Screw this,” I muttered and grabbed my phone that was lying in the cup-holder.
I took of my eyes of the road and pressed the home-button.
**16:18**
And then Morality came back. Screaming like a banshee. I dropped my phone and covered one ear with my hand, the other grabbing the wheel tight.
“What?!,” I screamed, looking around the road for danger.
*THE TRUCK HASN’T SLOWED DOWN! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH*
The screaming didn’t stop and out of impulse or some other crap I yanked the steering wheel as hard as I could.
And everything went black. The voice became quiet.
**im a new writer so criticism really helps!** | 2020-10-13T12:58:54 | 2020-10-13T11:05:04 | 35 | 23 |
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