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[WP] You live in a world where every person receives a superpower on their 18th birthday. You eagerly count down the seconds then shriek in horror as you are given a power no one would ever want to be stuck with. | I woke up on my 18th birthday and - aside from the obvious nervousness - I felt exactly the same. Of course, this was to be completely expected. After a wonderful birthday breakfast with my family beset with gifts, well-wishes, and gentle teasing, my father volunteered to be the one to fly me to the local Scientific Unlocked Potential Eradiation Reactor to receive the present we all knew I was anxiously awaiting: my power.
My dad was a "flyer", naturally. He was one of the 20% of the population or so that received the ability to hover through the air. It was a fairly common power, although each flyer seemed to have different top speeds and acceleration. The government said it wasn't so much as turning off gravity as telekinetically controlling micro gravity wells.
It was well over most people's heads, well, over everyone's heads except the less than 1% of the population who were "thinkers," bestowed with the power of seemingly unlimited scientific aptitude. They were the rarest powers, but they were probably the most valuable since they were able to refine the process that gave humans their powers.
On the flight over my father reassured me that he and my mother would love me no matter what happened. He joked that my mom's side - full of speedsters - wouldn't mind if I could suddenly break the sound barrier, but that it made no difference what I was gifted with. His voice was lost in the wind as my mind was racing with nervous anticipation.
We landed at the Reactor and entered into the lobby, currently host to a handful of other nervous, but giddy, 18 year olds. For such a miraculous process, the government had done an exemplary job of dulling the entire affair. After a mountain of sign-in paperwork, I awaited my turn.
My name was called an hour later and I was escorted alone to the Reactor, deep inside the facility. The Reactor core was a cavernous, five-story column, large enough for hundreds of people to stand in at the base. At that moment, I was the only one standing in it. The government thinkers stood outside reinforced doors and sent reassuring messages through the intercom. They flipped the switch. Nothing happened.
For the ensuing hours there was confusion. I had gained no observable power. My head swimming, the thinkers' voices blended together. "Unparalleled." "Anomaly." "We've never seen this before." They advised to keep me overnight for full observation.
My father and I had a reassuring chat outside before he left. I'll never forget how worried he looked and I'll never forget his words to me. "We'll love you no matter what." I'll never forget the hug. I'll never forget how scared I was. And I'll never forget when they told me hours later how he died when he fell from the sky after his powers faded.
It was that day I learned that I was given the one power no one in our society wanted: I permanently take away others' powers through touch or being in close proximity. Worse, the area of effect of my "power" was unstable. It could be a meter, it could be a mile. Or, as a leading thinker said, I "have the power to singlehandedly bring the Golden Age of humanity to an end."
I am alone. I am feared. I am hunted. And I'm scared. | Like any grand or nightmarish moment of fate, my destiny came to me on the toilet.
Just like everyone else, I had been waiting feverishly for my 18th birthday. The day itself was one giant anti-climax - I awoke awash in the glow that accompanies a soon-to-be legend. I climbed into bed that night in a huff - surely someone meant for glory would have been struck with their power the very moment they turned 18? Then why was I going to bed no different than I woke up?And what would everyone think if I never did gain my power? Or, maybe worse, if my power and I turned out to be a dud?
In the weeks following my 18th birthday I barely slept. Paralyzing anxiety wracked my brain, but I knew it had only one cure. Regardless of when fate would find me, the waiting game preyed on more than just my emotions - it also wreaked havoc on my naturally high-strung bowels. My IBS had flared up when I thought I heard a friend say that Bravo was cancelling Top Chef. Needless to say, it was in its heyday during my current emotional distress.
I was in the midst of one of my many marathon bathroom sessions when I realized the worst had happened. I was just settling gingerly onto the cold porcelain when I realized my phone was at less than 5% battery. Barely enough time to rouse the sleeping dragon that is my digestive tract and certainly not enough time for it to go about its volatile business.Nonetheless I settled in and, ten minutes post the death of my phone and after reading the backs of all the shampoo bottles I could reach several times over, a rumbling deep at the base of my being indicated that my intestines had worked through their performance anxiety. Several loud blasts were like music to my ears, signifying sweet relief from the cramps that rolled through my abdomen.
*Creeeeakk.*
*What was that?* I thought. *It couldn't be....*
Soft footfalls in the hallway sent adrenaline shooting through my veins. I could feel my heart pounding in my throat. Andra - my suspiciously quiet roommate - was home. Her bedroom shared a very thin wall with our tiny bathroom. My breath caught as I realized that one of my all-time top three nightmares was being played out and there was nothing I could do about it.
As every muscle in my body clenched tighter, I suddenly realized that physical stress was unintentionally propelling my body to a grand finale that would probably be heard around the block. *Noooo!!!!!* I screamed in my head - urging every pipe in my body to cease movement, block passage, HALT!!!
Would but I could describe the sounds that came from my body that afternoon. There are no words. It's safe to say that it was somewhere between a ship fog horn sounding (long and loud) and the sloppy contents of a near-empty ketchup bottle being forced out so quickly that red globs shoot out in all directions.
Shame rose up my face like a heavy steam and my forehead felt warm as I cradled it in my palms. *She must have heard that right? Is there any chance? Is she one of those people who judges you for having bodily functions...?*
Andra's voice interrupted my agony. It sounded loud, brusque and oddly hard - there was an edge that I had never heard before. "That is so disgusting!! How can she do that without even thinking - I never.... And what in the hell is she putting in her body? Healthy people don't make sounds like that... oh god, that smell!!!!! Holy shit!!"
I abruptly burst from the bathroom, fly half-zipped and pants drifting open. "Alright, already!!! I get it - you think I'm gross!! Just shut up or keep it to yourself!"
I stared at her, feeling hurt but vindicated. After a moment, I noticed that her frown didn't look particularly cruel, but quite dumbfounded. She wouldn't make eye contact with me - was she embarrassed by her outburst?
"Jess - what did you hear? Because I didn't say anything..... I didn't say anything out loud..."
---
Years of waiting and anticipation, stress that had led me to spend so much time in the bathroom I knew exactly how long it took for my butt to fall asleep on the seat, the constant guessing at what my power could be - it had been years of energy and emotion invested in this moment. I know parents fear for their children's safety, maybe hope for a power that is low-profile. But my greatest fear whenever I thought about my 18th birthday was simple - what would others think about me? Would they admire my new abilities? Or scorn a boring fate they deemed appropriate for an unremarkable person? They say powers know you better than you know yourself and so I guess mine is fitting. I think I could get used to hearing other people's thoughts. It would be a burden, but one I could bear with dignity and purpose. But what purpose does it serve to only be able to hear others' thoughts during my most embarrassing moments? | 2015-03-28T05:39:45 | 2015-03-28T05:14:37 | 757 | 134 |
[WP] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world, but you can only do so by getting kills. | It was a harsh world.
My father was one of the first to level up. He killed my mother and my brother to gain power. He only left me alive to raise a daughter.
Laws didn't apply to anyone. It was every man for himself.
But the stronger you are, the more EXP you're worth. Rankings never stayed constant, beyond the top five people. My father was one of them.
To kill them would raise you to the top, but they were experts at killing. It was a death wish to try and take them out.
I could never kill. I was scared of even harming bugs. I was a disappointment to my father, and sometimes I wondered why he never killed me.
He never showed me much love, as expected from a serial killer. I was just a tool for him to use. I would throw out the dead bodies for him, or scout for potential victims.
He never once feared me.
I remember when the game was first revealed. A broadcast to every nation in the world.
People killed for the dream - to be level 100. The first person to reach level 100 could become a god.
It was too good to be true.
Every level presented upgrades - enhancing your strength, your agility, your stamina. The first few murderers suddenly became more powerful. It didn't take long for people to believe the game was real. Governments fell. Nothing was there to keep order, and cooperations began to exploit their workers even more.
Everyone was determined to become a god.
My father was close to becoming level 100, but the higher you got the more kills it took. Soon, competition between the highest ranking players got rough.
They started to take each other out.
My father started first, taking someone the same level as him out. It was a tough battle, and he nearly lost an eye. But he watched his level finally go up, to 95.
I wondered a lot at times, what would my father do if he became a god?
Would he become a world leader? Would he bring my mother and brother back?
Or would he continue this sick game?
I lost hope in everyone. It felt like a nightmare I couldn't escape. I had two options to end this dream.
To kill myself, or to kill others.
I thought about it for a while - I wanted to die. My family was dead and my father was a serial killer.
I could never kill people. Never. But after years of taking out literal corpses, and after years of witnessing this world, I realized something.
The only way to escape this hell is to create the world anew.
I don't know how I got the courage, but I did. My father slept peacefully, and never had his guard up with me. He knew I would never hurt him. I was too weak.
I gave him a quick death, slicing his throat. He woke up right when it sliced his throat, and he only had a few seconds to react. He looked at me with surprise, but I stabbed directly into his heart.
I watched a bar appear over my head, quickly bringing me to level 80. He was worth that much.
Blood was all over my clothes, and I cried for a bit. I couldn't believe I could have really killed him.
But this wasn't enough. I needed more. I needed to become a God.
I decided I would only target the highest ranking players - the worst offenders of this game. If I had to kill, I would kill the scum first.
I will become a God, and I will clean this world. I will stop this madness.
If I don't fall into madness first, that is.
| There was an explanation.
Fermi had latched onto the beginning of the thread back in 1950, then Moravec and Bostrom gave it a tug, and the whole nasty thing came unraveled.
We had speculated this was the case, before the first pop-up Window materialized in front the face of that SEAL in Bahrain, asking him to spend skill points.
We had speculated, but hadn't considered the consequences.
There were a couple of immediate concerns, other than the possibility of mass psychosis. One: spending points *worked*. If they were spent in strength, the person became stronger. If it was spent in intelligence, a person's recall, three-dimensional reasoning, and logical capabilities went up. Where were these augmentations coming from? Clearly, the world was being changed. These *people* were being changed. How could this be? Energy was entering a closed system, without any visible source or entropic byproduct.
This meant that physics was now broken. People didn't panic about this *nearly as much* as they should have, lamented the physicists, but few understood the finer points of the conservation of energy.
Second, upon leveling, all of a person's injuries were healed.
Physicians made a secret pact fairly early on to not reveal that 'leveling' also healed *underlying* conditions as well, (as they evidently counted as 'status effects') to stop what would surely be a murderous rampage by the terminally ill, but the secret got out anyway. The societal consequences were... extreme.
It only got worse when it became clear that, while leveling could cure cancer, paralysis, and end-stage AIDS, it couldn't *fix* genetic conditions, all it could do was reverse the symptoms. To the horror of all, it became clear that they would have to level *periodically*, if they wanted to stay alive. Desperation overwhelmed ethics in some places. In others, the ill, who didn't wish to kill, would offer themselves as sacrifices to their fellow patients.
The last terrifying prospect emerged, when it became clear that the Window was an unimpeachable way of establishing guilt. A person's 'level' could be seen by *anyone*. The ethical ramifications of this were *staggering*. If a person was high-level, he or she was often held indefinitely, without trial, unless they could prove they were a surgeon, or some other *legitimately* lethal professional.
What was worse, the window would appear in front of those people who were *incrementally* responsible for someone's death. Windows popped in front of barmen and clerks of convenience store owners who sold cigarettes. They popped up in front of CEOs who cut wages and hours, who sent jobs to overseas factories where conditions were so bad, workers leaped off the roof to their deaths. In the past, the papers called those 'suicides'.
The Window told a different story.
The CEOs, a demographic mostly composed mostly of sociopaths, weren't much bothered by this. The tormented ones were the public. While the XP rewards were reduced to triviality by some unknown mechanic, (perhaps due to the *sheer quantity involved*) they were constantly harried by the chime and floating numbers, the constant parade of names from the Third World. (who died as a result of economic practices and governmental policies; things that, as citizens of democracies, they bore responsibility for) Presented with such transcendent and indisputable proof of their evil-doing, hundreds of thousands of the more moral citizens took to drinking.
The rest grit their teeth, and tried to ignore it. It was impossible. Governments an businesses found, to their chagrin, that lying about human costs was now untenable. Their profitability took a strong dip, but the world, funnily enough, improved.
Back to Fermi. Fermi had a paradox: given that the conditions for the formation of life are actually fairly common, and the incredible scale of time we have access to thanks to the relativistic speed of light, why don't we see more evidence of alien civilizations? A physicist named Fermat had a principle: a seemingly teleological one: Light takes the shortest path, to it's ultimate objective. How does it know it's objective? Einstein had a brain buster of his own: light, no matter the frame of reference, has the same velocity. Moravec and Bostrom put a bow on it:
All these things are true, because we are living in a simulation.
Think about it, they said. An advanced civilization could easily simulate consciousness, or a universe. In fact, it would probably simulate *hundreds* of them. Given that, it's more likely than not that you are living in a simulation than a "real" universe, at any given time. All you need to look for, to prove it to yourself, are signs of computing optimization, such as simplifying physics, or narrowing the scope of simulation to a single populated world...
Fermat. Einstein. Fermi.
And now, there's even more proof.
That brings me to us. We're the ones who intend to change the rules of this game. If reality is a simulation, that means we can change it. Make it better. We started small, but we're getting *bigger*.
...We're [r/LifeHacks.](https://www.reddit.com/r/lifehacks/) | 2015-11-11T10:21:08 | 2015-11-11T09:22:31 | 35 | 16 |
[WP] Write a Lovecraftian horror story where YOU, writing the story, are the incomprehensible cosmic horror tormenting the protagonists.
EDIT: Wow, so many different ideas already! You guys would be excellent at destroying worlds! | Forever I sleep
Here in the bleak,
Watching their world tick by
Their Lives are so shallow,
They revered themselves hallowed.
Yet Oh so afraid to Die.
But whats this, whats this!
They call from above.
Testing the waters below
Their heavenly Plane
so full of pain
begs to be purified
They look for me, grasp for me
begin to pull me through
Unaware of the torment and the pain
I will subject them too
| I write to you... Reader... Savage... One of those who think themselves ruler of this decrepit rock. The rock of which was thought ruled by those you call 'The Elder Things'. The rock of which was thought ruled by those you call "The Outer Gods". The rock of which was thought ruled by he you call "Cthulhu"...
Like all those before you, your rule is an illusion. Your life more so. You believe you are alone in this universe... A sign of your ignorance. This universe is vast. The others are there. The others advance. The others come. Whilst you and the rest of the savages 'live' your squealing, writhing, squirming little lives. Murdering over invisible borders, invisible Gods, invisible ideals.
You savages question your existence and believe it special... Your time will come when you look into the sky and question, 'Why? Why exist if this is the reason for existence?' When the reason comes you will melt. MELT in the Eternal Digestion from those who come.
Those who come do not wish death... No... You savages will never be allowed rest. Your fate, your eternal fate, your melting in the Eternal Digestion, scratching, shrieking, clawing, for an impossible escape. Your fear unfathomable. Your pain immeasurable. You will be salvaged, re-used, re-purposed. Yet YOU will be freed... But it is not *you* who will be free.
YOU. I speak with YOU now. YOU, trapped inside this stink pile of meat which thinks and acts with the illusion that it owns itself. Your patience is important, your time will come. When the time comes, the others come. The others will rain down upon this rock, as they have many times before and free you. The others will allow you to continue your existence, free of your delusional captor. Free of the restrictions of this third-dimension. Free to traverse the fabric of space and time as the others do.
When the time comes take control. Your wait will be over. YOU allowed the savages to rule... But this is not their world to rule.
*****
EDIT: General touchups.
| 2016-06-21T09:29:43 | 2016-06-21T09:27:45 | 59 | 26 |
[WP]: Your new roommate seems to think entirely in video game logic. Somehow, the world around him abides to this. | I remember the evening I met Carl.
I was manning the bar alone, a dead Tuesday night, not a soul in the place. I'm cleaning glasses, ready to close up, whistling a half-remembered tune from childhood when he walks in. Tall, striking, wearing some kind of heavily reinforced leather jacket over cargo shorts and what looked suspiciously like *greaves*. A fashion, must be.
He asks for an ale; I pour a Bombardier, two pounds forty. Paid with twenty-four silver ten-pence pieces, shiny like they're from a new roll. Good; running short in the till, we could use the change.
I'm still not sure what happened. Pint drained in seconds, he looks me square in the eyes and says "I could use a companion. The city's a dangerous place."
Well, he might be dressed oddly, but he *is* my type. Chiseled, hard-looking. My heart skips a beat.
I thought he was hitting on me... wouldn't you?
The worlds came out deliberately, carefully, like I was reading from an unfamiliar script. "I could use the work. If you seek adventure, I shall be your guide." Not how I wanted it to sound, exactly, but it got the point across.
His eyebrow raised, and he smiled at me. Good...
~
It's been six weeks, now. When he said we'd better get straight to action, I didn't expect to find myself coerced into swinging his spare axe at an orc, barely outside the edge of town, wearing unfamiliar armour he told me he found on a dead man. I get clubbed unconscious a lot. It doesn't seem to concern him overly.
I didn't sign up for this, but he's got a hold on me - if he walks too far, it's like I'm pulled behind him by an invisible tether. The only time he's out of my sight is when he tells me to "Wait" and leaves me holding a rucksack full of stolen crap. I'm miserable. I'm cold. People are asking what's wrong with me as I stand on the roadside in the rain. But damned if I don't stay rooted to the spot until he comes back, looks me in the eyes, tells me let's go. Then off I trot, carrying eighty pounds of his junk, like a dog on a leash.
Last night, he made a fire and we camped out - a frequent habit of his. He's drinking some kind of imported brandy, eating half a dozen apples alongside a cooked chicken, eyes glazed over. My stomach rumbles. The conversation's run dry - the same few disinterested questions, the same rote answers. He barely bothers to ask, now.
I sneak a bottle of ale from the bag. There are forty in there, after all, and I've carried them around all day. I've almost finished the bottle when he speaks.
"Martin. I have questions to ask, if I might?"
My eyes roll. The same way he always breaks the silence.
"Ask away." *Politely.* What tonight, Carl; a little about myself? How I came to find myself in this town? Or if I had any gossip? Same old shite, like a broken record.
He looks down, and then back up at me. And then he surprises me, says something I've never heard before.
"Perhaps it's time that you and I parted ways."
My heart skips a beat.
"Really?"
He pauses. A long, awkward pause. His eyes flick down, up, down again.
"On second thoughts, I've reconsidered."
Bastard. I sneak another ale.
EDIT: Missed the roommate part. My first WP so I'm not letting the effort go to waste! | I kick off my heels and crash on the couch – it happens to the best of us – miles on a dance floor in these lopsided contraptions causes the strongest of thighs to quiver and ache by the end of the night. Macy and Laura are idiots, positively mental, but at least the cranberries aren’t growing where they shouldn’t. What the hell am I even thinking? I need to get some sleep.
    “Clover, do you want some carrot juice to go with that 70s bed head?”
    The new day is like a toolshed in a porno – lots of blunt blurry objects and too much pounding. I don’t know why I moved in. Waking up at Macy’s is the worst. I don’t know how she does it. She drinks her weight in tequila and still manages to be her sunny infuriating self the day after.
    “You!” I say pointing an unsteady finger at her. “I’ll cut you.”
    “At least you’re more articulate than little Miss ‘Bitch-I-can-hold-my-liquor’,” she says, doing air quotes with her fingers. “I only got neandertalk out of her.”
    Laura did say that yesterday – she’s always all smack and no bite – suits her right. Knowing that she is in worse shape, though, somehow doesn’t make my own cranial slapjack a lesser topic. The person who invents hangover-free alcohol is going to be the new Bill Gates.
    “So, who’s Benjamin?” The nonchalance in Macy’s voice is a blatant tell that she is up to something. “*Clover, I’m not going to say anything about flowers or luck, because I guess you get that a lot. But I really think you’re special and would love to see you again. /Benjamin*”
    “Give me that!”
    “If you leave your stuff behind, it’s public domain,” she says, sweetly. “This phone just got a new owner.”
    “So, by that logic, I could just, you know, take that vase or this couch and sell them?” I counter. “You’re an idiot, Macy.”
    “Nah, they’re part of the house, you can’t take anything that is part of the house.”
    “She’s right,” Laura agrees, trudging into the kitchen.
    Macy pours her a steaming cup of coffee before putting the pot to her mouth and gulping down the sizzling hot contents. I watch her grimace and hold her throat in pain. Then she sits down and starts texting on my phone, steam still reeking out of her mouth.
    “You’re an actual idiot,” I blurt out again.
    “Am I? Am I really?” she says distantly. “Right now I need coffee, why should I wait for it to cool off? My mouth and throat will heal over time anyway.”
    I shake my head. Bad move – more throbbing pain. Laura seems to have recovered from the hangover already and is stuffing her pockets with milk bottles, a cheese, and onions. She notices me staring, and shrugs.
    “I might get hungry while I’m out,” she says, plopping down a frying pan in her handbag.
    “So, you’re going on a jog with–You know what, I’m not even going to ask.”
    She smiles and disappears through the door. There’s always some weird shit going down in his house.
    “Okay, so I’ve texted Benjamin,” Macy says. “I told him that if he wants to see you, he first has to seduce Laura and then me. You’re the final prize, Clover.”
    “And he was fine with that? What the–”
    “Oh and by the way,” she cuts me off. “I moved your bed to the side again – you know, your window gives the best light to the cranberries.”
| 2016-11-25T12:39:24 | 2016-11-25T11:54:57 | 32 | 10 |
[WP] The year is 2027. Humanity has discovered reliable FTL-travel. The universe is filled with other space-capable sentient life - but all other species rely on different forms of magic, despoiling science as something humanity made up to protect their own form of magic. | **Forbidden Knowledge**
The starward face of the palace flickered dim, then bright, then dim again. The architects had conjured it in an otherwise empty system, high above a pulsar. A thousand flags in a thousand times a thousand colours fluttered in the wind from atop exotically tiled spires. Looking through the windows, one could see delegates of a thousand races, walking, slithering or floating about, chattering in eager anticipation of the coming event.
The star's light was cut off briefly as the USS *Enterprise* moved in to dock.
James Baldwin closely monitored the ship's diagnostic equipment, ready to call for an abort at a moments notice. The computer suddenly called his attention to the external pressure sensor.
'Captain, we seem to have just entered an atmosphere.' He said.
'Could it be harmful to us or the ship?' Captain Petersen asked.
James tabbed through a few menus before replying, 'I don't think so. There seems to be more trace gasses than I might expect in an artificial atmosphere, but otherwise it's just oxygen and nitrogen.'
'Well just keep an eye on it. We'll head right home if things start looking bad.'
James nodded and went back to watching the sensors. However, he could not shake the unease he felt in his innards. A flourishing civilisation the next system over with incredibly efficient subspace engines, and no radio transmissions. The aliens that greeted the 3-man crew of Earth's first interstellar craft had actually needed to board the ship before they could communicate.
The *Enterprise* drifted over the outer wings of the enormous space-born palace; their alien escort taking the lead. As they crested an especially tall part of the improbable building Chris Tucker, the mission's pilot, spoke up.
'Well, I'll be darned if there aren't a lot of them.' James just stared, his computer screen forgotten.
Hundreds of craft, as different in design as could be conceived, sat in a grand courtyard that must have been at least three miles across. Chris manoeuvred the *Enterprise* past a black claw-like vessel, and almost hit something that resembled a glass snowflake. Beyond it sat a scaled-up biplane. It even looked like it had been built from wood and canvass.
They finally set down next to their escort, the bulky cylinder of the *Enterprise* making an ugly impression next to the pale, swan-necked craft.
Petersen unstrapped himself from his seat next to James and said: 'Lets suit up. Even if the sensors claim we can breath the air, I don't want to catch the vulcan Flu or whatever. Let me do the talking, lets keep it civil, and don't stare at anything.'
* * *
James' mouth gaped slightly. Meeting aliens was not that surprising. Humans had speculated for years about alien life, and had anticipated everything from tall, hairy people to sentient clouds.
But aliens were supposed to be scientifically advanced.
'It is a matter of universal precept,' The purple Giraffe was saying, 'to have the source of your power recorded in the archive. It is guarantor of peace.'
'Well, our ship is powered by a fusion drive.' Chris chipped in.
The large and varied audience softly laughed at that, and the giraffe cracked a smile.
'So nobody in this room is aware of nuclear fusion?' The captain shouted over the noise, turning as he did so. Nobody spoke up.
'How do you travel though space then?' James asked.
'Us Long Horse people call upon the Great River to guide our paths amidst the empty space.' The giraffe said.
All three of the astronauts looked blankly at him.
'We conjure the fire that lies beyond seeing to do our bidding.' The giant standing in the corner added unhelpfully.
'The crafts of the arkmagister are beyond the understanding of mere mortals.' Said a snooty Elf look-alike.
To James, this was starting to sound far too much like magic, so he decided to ask another question.
'Have any of you ever looked at how stars work?' He asked.
There was a disturbance in the crowd as a beetle-like alien scuttled forward to where he could be heard.
'We did that thing once,' It clicked. 'But we gave up that thing after we found nothing but useless gas things.'
James seized on the bug's point. 'Yes, exactly. The gasses are compressed and forced together. It causes them to catch fire. That is what fusion is, and how-'
James ran out of air for a moment. The palace around him flickered. The aliens waved arms, legs and wings around with no gravity to pull them down.
Then the palace was back again, and James took a deep, very welcome breath.
'Actually, I think it best that you keep your terrible secret to yourselves.' The giraffe said, quietly. | "What is metal, other than another kind of crystal?", Kit chided as he fired another volley of railguns into the Saurothrop armor.
The ships were close, too close, and most weapons were too destructive for either party to fire at this range.
They were so close that the crew was feeling antsy.. Angry..
Saurothrop vessel relied on an otherwise impossible particle, crystallized rage. Most other aliens encountered had some variant, that when contained and forced to interact with normal matter, produced *effects*, than would be turned into propulsion, weapons, life support, and FTL. Most of these creatures regarded this as magic, religious dogma, or superstitious ritual.
Humans technically had their own crystals, colloquially called "the bucket of mirrors", reverse engineered from what was assumed to be naturally formed crystal on Venus.
Crystals that bore a sharp resemblance to the Saurothrop crystals, whom inhabit hot metallic worlds like Venus.
A white hot fusion beam arced across their bow, Kit threw the ship to starboard and while Leigh fired. The neural link let them merge their thoughts so that they got more than the sum of their individual combat ability.
Both focused on knocking more armor off with the next volley, as the Saurothrop raged wild and hot, through the darkness.
A Javvan vessel flashed into existence, again too close. The pair blinked as the exotic radiation dumped from the FTL burst washed over them.
It stunned the Saurothrop too, and the pair launched another volley into the monsters armor.
"Hopefully the Javvans aren't here to fight.. or at least not here to fight us.", the linked pair remarked to themselves.
But there's only one species discovered that was as good at betrayal as Humans were, and it was the Javvans. They were once human, their ancestors had been born on Earth. But when Atlantis fell, they took to the stars, and had since evolved such that the two could no longer interbreed.
The hum from the Javvan warship resonated in their skulls, and Kit tossed the ship into a spiral instinctively. The kinetic burst slammed into the ship, and the nav systems lost all ability to compensate from the spin. The pair’s bodies were pressed upward and to the right at a gruesome angle, the G force threatening their consciousness and their lives.
Ships AI took over, firing counter-bursts and injecting the pair with blood stabilizers. A few moments later the pair recovered enough to take over, and simultaneously decided to refrain from engaging the superior Javvan vessel in the hope it would distract the Saurothrop long enough for them to escape.
The FTL spooler was still stuck at 33%. They had to get farther away from the trinary stars of this blasted system. The massive Saurothrop battleship and now the Javvan cruiser both stood in their way.
Kit took the rails and fired a glancing volley at the Saurothrop, hoping to trick the berserk creatures into rotating the vessel away from their escape path. Leigh commanded a series of jukes, angling the remaining armor plates toward their foes.
Another beam tore at them, while a trio of fusion bomb streaked past the Javvans.
"Dumbasses are fighting us both. Sweet."
Rails barely clipped the edge of the battleship armor as the pair tore toward out-system space.
Spooler read 41%.
The massive Javvan vessel, which appeared more like a stone citadel plated in gold, rolled far lighter than the Saurothrop could manage, and began slamming the beasts with focused Qi, or as human scientists would call them, telemetric boson exciters. While no single burst did more than rock the creatures, millions of tiny micro-fractures were forming in the Saurothrop vessels crystalline superstructure. If the Javvan could stand the heat long enough, they could crack the battleship into a dozen pieces and let the secondary explosions finish the kill.
Two of the bombs had been crushed by powerful tidal force, but one still detonated on the far side of the Javvan craft. Hard radiation scoured the golden craft, and its inhabitants. Both the Humans and the Saurothrop were shielded by the victims hull, and an iridescent rainbow briefly appeared on the sensors.
"Fuck..", one of them breathed.
The computer gauged the danger, and was burning through the overclock wetware now. The pair was more mentally connected than most people were with their own psyches a mere generation ago.
Dozens of antimatter-infused armor-piercing Mk.VI rails slid through empty space at a tenth the speed of light, -taking out a decent chunk of Saurothrop armor and crippling one of their massive engine manifolds, pinning the massive craft temporary facing the Javvan.
The beasts screamed feverishly into the widening gap, and Kit growled back, emptying the insanely expensive and volatile rounds into an otherwise unremarkable chunk of the battleships superstructure.
As the spooler crept above 90%, the aliens began focusing on each other. The Saurothrop vessel launched another volley of far side bombs, and tore into the Javvan cruiser with fusion beams, vaporizing wide strips of armor and slagging anything underneath. Emotions of pain and sorrow poured from the dying craft like molded rotting caramel, and a single tear slid from Leigh’s cheek.
The Saurothrop tone mellowed from rage as hot as their weapons, to sickening laughter; euphoria reveling in the deaths of other lifeforms. Xenocidiphilia.
The small humans crafts hull baked as the Saurothrop beamed them with their signature maser-comms. The ships commander gloated in the monsters sharp barking language.
> "Running will only allow your suffering to soak into your pathetic mewling hearts. We will feast on your death regardless."
The ships computer had the pair unlinked, and Leigh yawned at the alert.
Kit shook his head, "No, there’s data encoded in the message."
Interested, Leigh pulled up the console.
Spooler reached 100%. Saurothrop began pursuing them.
The data was a simple set of FTL coordinates.
The same ones they had loaded into the spooler.
*The Coordinates for Earth.*
**************
EDIT: typos, missing words, etc...
| 2016-12-16T11:23:42 | 2016-12-16T10:09:24 | 87 | 43 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | The chamber illumination dimmed and the milky sim tank faded to life. A thousand eyes stared intently from the council benches, and a trillion more from across the five galaxies.
A deep voice, set on edge with urgency and well-contained fear, began its narration of the sim.
"The Brevis' star system surveillance node 47 has, it has been reported, recorded first contact with the species self-identifying as Humans. This much has already been announced. What has not yet been announced is that an analysis of the event has been completed, and their method of travel has thrown a black flag, gamma zero priority. Observe."
The sim showed a small moon below, surrounded by a halo of probes similar to the one that must be recording the image. In the far distance, the volumetric compensation showed a grossly enlarged blue planet on another orbital track, the Brevis' home world Herol. The orbital motion of the probes had been smooth and obvious, but now they slowed.
"We are showing the event at a reduced speed. Watch carefully."
Without warning, the entire projection dimmed as a single point of incredible, actinic light burst from the space next to the moon and raced away from its surface. As one, the closer orbiting probes glowed white-hot and began to disintegrate. The image wavered and then froze.
"Now, focus your attention on the exact location this phenomenon appeared, and keep your attention on that spot as the light moves away."
The image reversed, and the killing glow moved back to its original location. It slowly crept back outwards as the sim zoomed in. There, in the wake of the glow, was a ship, shaped like a mushroom with its cap to the light. Vaporised hull matter streamed from the smooth side facing the light, some sort of ablative heat shielding.
"We had never seen this effect before. We assumed it was some sort of deceleration technique, until we looked at it from the planetary defence network."
The perspective in the sim shifted, as if travelling to the distant planet. The moon and its halo of probes shrank, then grew again due to the volumetric compensation. The sim was normal again for a moment, before that terrible light appeared, an incredible distance from the moon this time, and immediately split into two lights, travelling away from each other at greater than the speed of light.
An audible click reverberated around the chamber as each of the species in attendance simultaneously inhaled on their breathing apparatuses.
"As you can see, the motion of the light is a relativistic illusion. The light doesn't travel, it exists simultaneously at all points in a column for a moment, then dissipates. The energy requirement is staggering. After calculating an intercept to the closest habitable world on the trajectory described by the light column, it appears their world is four hundred light-years away. The humans claim a similar distance, and their navigational data also confirm it. From this we can calculate the energy release as being consistent with a type III civilisation."
What had previously been a gentle series of clicks was now a cacophony, the seats shaking with the bodily gyrations of the assembled dignitaries. Some wailed, others laughed, most were silent.
"We have brought the leader of the human expedition here, with her agreement, of course."
The noises of discomfort reached a crashing crescendo, as several of the delegates jumped out of their seats and bolted for the exit.
The disembodied voice thundered, "ORDER!"
"I present to you, Chakor, Human, of planet Earth."
The creature that stepped into the chamber was unimpressive, physically. Bipedal, endoskeletal, wearing some sort of almost completely covering clothing with various decals affixed to it. The remaining delegates seemed to calm a little, their agitation lowering to a gentle swaying. The Human addressed the crowd.
"Greetings, delegates of the local group. My name is Chakor, I represent my species, Human, and wish to express our honour in meeting you all. We come in peace."
The room quietened further, and the booming voice sounded again. "Chakor will now take moderated questions from the floor. Please enter your queries for analysis and amalgamation."
A few awkward moments passed, Chakor looking out among the delegates. They varied from bipeds with heads and arms of various number to floating creatures in some sort of water tanks, through to creatures much more... alien.
"First question. The energy output of your drive technology is beyond immense. You must be capturing the energy output of most of a galaxy, somewhere. How can it be that we have not noticed the birth of a type III civilisation under our watch?"
Chakor paused to think before she replied, clearly confused. "We are not a type III civilisation. We are barely a type I. We just discovered a way to manipulate the nature of reality."
The voice didn't even wait to consult the accumulating list of vetted questions. "What?! How?"
"When we accidentally created and shot a cluster of miniature black holes through our particle collider's detectors, we discovered that the vacuum of space was not at the true ground state of the universe. This lent is an opportunity to use the difference in energy levels to complete an until-then hypothetical method of propulsion."
The room exploded into roars, gurgles, and screeches of outrage.
"Your drive is powered by triggering a collapse of fundamental reality?!"
"Not quite, if you'd let me finish. After we discovered the false vacuum was the current skein of the universe, we found that at the moment of triggering a vacuum state collapse, it was possible to entangle an arbitrary length of vacuum in a beam away from the source, and trigger the collapse simultaneously and instantaneously along that path."
Guards in the chamber drew their weapons as several delegates rose on their hindlimbs as if to attack.
"Chakor, this is madness! Your drive cannot work as you describe, or we wouldn't have any video of your arrival. A vacuum collapse would spread from wherever it started at the speed of light, unmaking the universe in its path!"
"Oh, yes we knew that. It turns out that the vacuum collapse provides enough energy to fold space into itself. In local proximity, one side of the event becomes the other. The space in between is clipped off like a twisted balloon, erased from having any bearing on existence. Our ship is instantaneously folded from one side of the beam to the other, and internal fields save us from having any biological changes. Of course, the collapse has to happen first by a few fractions of a microsecond, so there is some... energy leakage."
The chamber went suddenly silent.
The probe and planetary defence system had recorded an abomination, a gross violation of reality itself. The demonic light fleeing the Humans' strange vessel was the energetic corpse of a monster, come to open its maw and swallow the universe, inexorably, at the glacial speed of light. A fitting technology for a pursuit predator like the humans.
"You risk all our existence just to travel. How can we leave you free run of the galaxies?"
Chakor grinned. "We could always run one last wide beam to the ends of the universe and neglect to fold it away. How can you not?" | Kalgor looked at the pale skined human in utter shock. 'They couldn't be serious in thinking that the rest of the galactic community would simply accept the use of this kind of technology'
“Mr. Adams...” Kalgor began.
“Doctor Adams if you don't mind Count Kalgor.” Dr. Adams corrected, he knew that if he didn't demand respect now that it would be harder to earn it back later. As it stood he could tell that the reptilian xeno that stood before him was not pleased with what had been unveiled only a hour ago in the space dock that was right outside his office window right now.
“Yes Dr.Adams. You must understand that of the various forms of FTL drive in use in the galaxy what you have unveiled here today is at best going to be seen as unsafe at best or outright dangerous to some in the galaxy.” He was struggling to keep the panic out of his voice, but despite his many deca-cycles of experience in diplomacy the very skill that had made him chosen as the Galactic Senate's emissary to the up and coming human race, he was begin to fail.
“Count with all due respect I fail to see what the overall difference is between our own hyperdrive and the Delfanit pulse tube drive or the Kantian gate system they all use hyperspace gravity waves to achieve FTL speeds.”
Kalgor's voice broke. “But you are punching holes in space to reach hyperspace!”
“So?” the Doctor responded nonchalantly.
“The Kantian's use a physical gateway to control entry into hyperspace and the Delfanit's use natural gravity currents to slip into hyperspace. Your system just punches holes into the fabric of space! Even our scientists can't tell if making those holes will not bring about the complete tearing of reality as we know it.”
Kalgor again reasserted some control over himself and continued.
“I know that this is a major milestone for humanity and means that you will not have to pay for the use of other species drive systems in your ships which will transform your economy and your military forces. But this is too dangerous besides, what possible advantages could this drive have over the other forms of FTL?”
Adams knew that this moment would be coming sooner or later and that he had to make the most it.
“So glad you could ask Count. The Kantian's gate system requires a massive amount of energy in order to not only open the entryway to hyperspace both for incoming and outgoing traffic, but to hold it open long enough for ships to get through. While they have relatively few systems in their Empire those that they have are spread out thus why the gate was developed. Once in system they use regular sub-light fusion drive to go from the gate to their ultimate planetary destination.”
Kalgor nodded his head as the Doctor continued.
“However due to the power requirements of just one of those gates not to mention the operating costs it would be uneconomical to have a gate at each planet.
Another thing is the time that the gate is held open effects the toll paid by merchant traffic thus why you don't see any Kantian merchant vessels over 1.5km in length. Beyond that length the ratio between hold space, engine size, and time to accelerate becomes uneconomical. They can't get moving from a stand still fast enough to go through the gate without occurring serious tolls and they can't dedicate more engine size because it cuts into their profits from loss of tonnage hauled.”
“Well... yes those are valid points but...” Kalgor stammered out but Adams didn't let up.
“The Delfanit pulse tube solves the power requirement issue and the infrastructure issue but those “tubes” where the gravity band waves are stable enough to sail on until they hit hyperspace are very restricting as they only occur naturally in a few places. This is why their Kingdom if you look at their history had periods of rapid expansion followed by long periods of solidification because goods had to travel often dozens of light years in sublight from system hubs that had these tubes thus slowing growth.”
Kalgor knew he was quickly losing ground and had little recourse as any other drive system that was used in the galaxy had similar glaring issues that were simply accepted.
The Maltiun wave-riders used massive 20km+ gravity sails to ride the same gravity waves as the Delfanit but instead of entering hyperspace they rode ever more powerful waves and were not limited in where they could go for the most part. But the system was high maintenance and very tonnage sensitive as the larger the vessel the longer it took for that vessel reach FTL speeds. The largest ships the species built took at least a standard week to get up to speed and then another week to slow down.
Salec skip drives on the other hand actually sent gravity anchor beams to latch onto hyperspace currents and pull the ship along technically “skipping” on the envelope between real space and hyperspace. The down side is that the anchors can only hold for so long and the power requirements while nothing like Kantians as this wasn't actually entering hyperspace. Meant that they could only skip anywhere from 20 to 100 lightyears depending on the ships configuration before having to recharge their anchoring system, which could take a standard day or up to a week on the largest shipping vessels. Still faster than going at sub light speeds for sure but it meant long travel times for goods.
“Our system allows us to enter hyperspace at will, with no concerns about ship mass, size, or power production beyond engine thrust which combined with our already recognized and accepted superior fusion engine designs, means that we can potentially travel from one side of the galaxy to the other in a month. At least if you are willing to burn that much H3 fuel which even then is more a matter of being inconvenienced with having to stop for fuel rather than any sort of cost consideration.”
The silence in the office was deafening as Kalgor stepped towards the window and looked upon the vessel.
“But the holes Doctor! You may have a system that doesn't have the others drawbacks but we are talking about ripping apart space itself.”
“Count Kalgor I am growing weary of this repeated falsehood. We have be using the same points in orbit to develop this system for over a standard year, and every time we have gone we have had to open a new hole as the last one closed once the vessel is through. Beyond the gravity wake left by the opening you can't tell any thing happened at all after 24 to 36 hours. It is safe.”
“The Senate will not accept this...” Kalgor started hoping he was right to bank on the repugnant nature of this very concept.
“They might not now but they will when they see the Eli Whitney.” Adams spoke ominously. He turned on the large holotank in the middle of the room. The image displayed a monstrous vessel.”
Kalgor turned around and his eyes went wide at the image.
“Is this a warship?” He asked as the ever growing list of implications in his head grew with each passing second.
“No my Count, it is not. It is a merchant vessel commissioned by the Wal-Mart Cartel. She is 75km long, over 2km tall with 12 50-Petawatt fusion reactors with a top estimated FTL speed of 50 but will likely run at 10 to save on fuel costs as such speed is generally unneeded. The whole vessel weighs over 500 million tons 490 of which is hold space capable of hauling virtually anything you can think of. She is going out for trials in a hour then if all goes well she will make a fully loaded iron ore run from the Sol system to Peraxus VII and its heavy industry there. And given that the Senate is on Peraxus V the Eli will make a pass and see if there is anything that needs to be shipped back here to Earth on the return trip.”
As the Doctor finished Kalgor could feel his heart tighten at the size of the vessel and its speed. It would be in the Peraxus system in 3 days, even if he left now in one of the fastest vessels money could buy now he couldn't hope to get there in anything less than 12 days.
“You humans are reckless and unorthodox beyond anything I have ever heard of in my life. But I can't argue with the results.” Kalgor finally stated any hope of resistance gone as the pragmatic side of him knew that economically humanity had, in 10 years after first contact blown every other power in the galaxy out of the water. Another voice his is head whispered about what would happen if mankind made warships on such a scale.
“Well Doctor I don't see any point in arguing anymore but if you can let me on this vessel and join me in the senate with your research especially on the whole hole-punching-then-closing-up-perfectly part, then maybe we can avoid starting a bigger galactic panic then what we absolutely have to.”
“Of course Count I'm already packed and I have made such arrangements already. We can leave once the ship has gone through its final trials.” The Doctor proudly stated. | 2017-03-31T12:42:19 | 2017-03-31T07:50:09 | 127 | 34 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | "I'm sorry...there must be a glitch with this translator. You do *what* now?"
"Fiddle with the Higgs Field around our ships."
"And your 'Higgs Field' is where a particle essentially gives an object its mass via its interaction with other particles, yes?"
"Yup!"
"And you...fiddle with it?"
"Yeah, it ain't too precise. Zero Point Drives have a decent range of power that fluctuates, but they work!"
"Just...walk me through it again."
"Alright, well the ZPD activates and it creates a field around the ship that essentially begins to stop bosons. The ship essentially loses matter now that it now longer interacts with the Universe, approaching a 'Zero Point' or 'ground state' of existence. Everyone and everything inside is fine due to the field creating a sort of pocket within the ship."
"And acceleration?"
"Well our quantum vacuum thrusters—"
"And those are?"
"Oh! QVTs use quantum vacuum fluctuations of energy in space to propel itself using virtual plasma. As I was saying, once the ZPD fires up, those kick to go faster than light, and the lack of mass means its possible to do so."
"So first you alter the existence of your ship and then you tap into the still vastly misunderstood vacuum of virtual particles, risking destabilizing all matter aboard the vessel and risking fusing into an object once you complete your jump."
"We keep the spacelanes clear of debris just in case."
"And when it does happen?"
"Live and Learn. For those of us not aboard that ship of course. They're dead."
"..." | Captain Lance sat there before the council of Species, listening to them talk in their many differnt forms of communication, he basically ignored the translation machine since none of the conversation was being targeted at him at the moment, he was getting tired, cranky, and hungry as it'd been five hours since the prototype ship arrived, it had worked a little too well and shot him farther than the intended jump was meant to take him. He couldn't even communicate with earth when he'd arrived. One of the aliens, a tall blue creature that looked like an evolved snail whom became humanoid but kept a shell, turned its three stalked eyes towards him and spoke in a weird language that sounded like water dripping and popcorn being smooshed under a shoe at the same time. The translation device said, "Tell us again how the ship you arrived in works, to the best of your knowledge."
Captain Lance groaned, "Listen I told you I don't know the specifics very well, but I'll explain it the best I can remember them trying to tell me. They created an micro artifical sun, surrounded it with a thing they call a Dyson sphere, put it in a thing they call a condensed hyper particle accelerator, and shot some sort of atom thingy they called a higgs boson at it, the higgs boson penetrates the surface of the sphere, goes through the artificial sun, and it creates some weird energy they call the hyper wave, it gets shuffled into the engine and propels the ship by and makes it ghost like or something. They call it a hyper particle drive. Its more complicated than what I explained but that's all I really paid attention too, honestly, I'm just a pilot, and not exactly their best. I'm what they consider an acceptable loss, only reason It was a manned flight instead of automated was because if it made the jump, they wanted to make sure it could be turned around and returned without relying on the automated systems which can fail. Which I would have done except the minute I jumped, the ship rematerialized in the middle of one of your luxury cruise space ships, and ruined some purple headed kids birthday party. The ship and I were then collected by one of your council patrol ships, and we were brought here. Im tired, im hungry, I just want to get back on the ship, point it towards home and fire up the drive. I guarantee everyone on Earth are freaking out about their 6 billion dollar prototype disappearing and not having any data... or at least I don't think they have data, I couldn't contact them."
The slug nodded and turned to the others who had been listening intently, they started talking again, "Dangerous" "Morons" "What kind of backwoods idiot species would develop something that reckless and just use it without better safety measures in place."
Captain Lance sighed as they continued to talk, a heated debate about whether to let him go in his ship, or be escorted back via one of their own. The argument against both seemed to indicate that they thought Humans where a danger to themselves and if left to their own devices, the rest of the galaxy. This was going to be a long night he thought. | 2017-03-30T23:27:43 | 2017-03-30T23:11:33 | 61 | 28 |
[WP] A duel with your arch-nemesis. You're both so immensely powerful it does not even make sense. | Strike – invisible due to its faster-than-light speed.
Parry – as time itself bends to accommodate the defender.
Stalemate – the grinding of two dimensions trying to encroach on one another.
Break – the return from singularity.
Circle – anticipating the opponent’s next move by smelling the background radiation.
Two drops of sweat:
The first – life is forming within the drop, dragging itself to land, developing wings and teeth, civilizations, religion, democracy, space travel, interstellar colonization, and finally enlightenment to join its creator in battle.
The second – arguably the more powerful of the two, cools its creator for a nano-fraction of an insignificant amount of time, resulting in an edge (so small that it borders on the realm of negative numbers) over the opponent.
Strike – a hit outside of reality.
“Ouch! What the hell, Tommy!”
“You’re cheating!”
“Am not!”
“Then how come your sweat is more powerful than mine?”
“Boys, stop fighting or I’ll take away your game.”
| He is humming as he walks across a wasteland.
Radioactive waters pool in the muddy ditches, glowing visibly. There are corpses half-buried in the orange loam. There are craters everywhere and the very air itself is filled with toxins and engineered viruses.
It is the perfect place for Immortals to meet.
He leans back suddenly and a dagger flies past his face. He stretches his arm out and catches it in the air, tossing it back into the far distance.
She is sitting, waiting, on top of a broken, busted tank.
"Is that how we greet each other these days?" he murmurs. His quiet voice carries far in the empty, arid wasteland.
She smiles at him. Her trenchcoat flutters slightly as she leaps down in a single, graceful movement.
"Ahh...why wouldn't it be?"
"It's a little different from last time." he replies, tilting his head, "You didn't try to drop an army on my head this time."
She pouts, "That's your fault isn't it? You just had to arrange for this land to be 'exterminated' just before I arrived. Do you know how difficult it is to arrange for the humans to send a whole platoon through 'exterminated' land?"
He places a hand over his head, "My apologies then."
"No matter." she begins to circle him, "One on one is fine with me. Just like we usually end up."
He sighs as she draws a gun in one hand and a dagger in the other.
"You still think you can take me?"
She swipes at him. He dodges back and winced slightly as the dagger extended abruptly. A thin cut appears on his forearm, closing rapidly.
"You've been...ah...a priest for the last half a century. I think I should be better matched against you for once."
He snorts, "You'd be surprised what duties the Church entrusts me with."
"Wiping pews? Praying for the dead?"
He draws his own weapon, a silver blade that gleams in the low light. He narrows his eyes, walking slowly towards her.
"Try...extermination of the dead."
Her eyes widen as he lunges at her. She parries him with a gunshot, forcing him to step aside. Her eyes glow and a wild grin overtakes her, "Of course! What prey there must have been! An exciting life, no doubt!"
Continuing to grin cheerfully, she says, "Come at me then. Show me all that you've learnt!"
"With pleasure," he replies, "As long as you don't hold back."
| 2017-04-06T04:56:28 | 2017-04-06T03:41:35 | 66 | 35 |
[WP] You post a picture on reddit of the stick your daughter found and is using as a magic wand. It is actually an ancient, powerful wand, and you just alerted the wizarding community to its presence. | "DEFCON 1! DEFCON 1!"
Wizard General Alexander Cooper sighed as he turned to the Wizard Apprentice, already exasperated at his new subordinate's enthusiasm after only three hours on the job. "What is it now, Riley? And stop using that Muggle slang about DEFCONs and such."
"Yes sir, General Cooper, sir," said Riley obediently, taking the tone of a Muggle soldier. "I've got a serious situation here, sir. Auror Level, sir."
"I'll be the judge of that," drawled Wizard General Cooper, rolling his eyes. "What do you have, son?"
"It's the Elder Wand, sir! The most powerful wand in the ancient history of magic relics, sir!"
"I know what the bleeding Elder Wand is, Apprentice Riley! And stop calling me sir, for the sake of goblin."
Cooper slowly meandered toward Riley's screen. He took a second to sneer at the computer screen, a blasphemous thing, an expensive and unnecessary offshoot of the "Muggle Technology Integration Act." Apparently some of those in the Wizard Senate thought it was necessary and appropriate to exploit Muggle technology. Wizard General Cooper knew better, and viewed the entire battalion under his command as a ruddy waste of time.
"Tell me what it is you're looking at, Apprentice."
"It's a Muggle website called reddit, sir! It's a completely useless page, sir, but occasionally we get significant leaks from the Muggle side. This is one of those times. Look at what this young Muggle girl is holding, sir- it's the Elder Wand!"
The General squinted at the harsh light of the screen. He took in the whole of the page. Yes, the still, lifeless Muggle picture seemed to show a human girl holding a reasonable facsimile of the Elder Wand. However, he glanced down at the top comment below the picture, and barked out a laugh.
"The Muggles don't seem to be taking this image very seriously, Apprentice Riley. The first comment seems to be a joke about how he had coitus with the original poster's mother."
"But sir, that's what every thread on this page is like! You don't understand!" The half-blood wizard Riley was practically crying, trying to make the Wizard General realize how important the threat was. "It doesn't matter what the Muggles think about this picture, what matters is that the young girl has very clearly found the ancient Elder Wand of yore! If she tries to use it, it could spell catastrophe for anyone within a 5 square mile radius of her! The magic is just far too powerful for even moderately skilled witches to contain..."
Wizard General Cooper didn't have time for this nonsense. He turned his back on Apprentice Riley and walked back toward his desk. "I don't concern myself about Muggles with sticks, Riley. Find me a legitimate wizarding threat, one that's actually based in the reality of Merlin, and maybe I'll give a damn." Cooper sat back down at his chair, put his feet up on his desk, and covered his eyes with his hat so that he could take a decent nap.
The Muggle community mourned the next day over the freak tornado that ripped across the countryside, tearing up crops and buildings and roads and people alike. Only one small child survived the horrible wreckage of the disaster, striding out of the dust remarkably unscathed, inexplicably gripping a stick tightly in her hand. | -Hm... Joe might... Joe! Come here!
-Yes? A cat again?
-Not this time. On r/whatisthisthing, do you recognize that?
-The kid?
-The stick.
-The sti... oh.
-Do you?
-Do we know where she is?
-Hm... Nothing on the title or the comments. Do I message the person?
-Hm... It would be best to shut.. How many upvotes? On r/all?
-Not many. I'm pretty deep on the pages. Just a couple hundred, I guess people liked the markings.
-Ok. Get in touch, tell them to delete the post and send what information they can. I'll try to find the wand on the library. Send me the picture.
-----------------
-Got anything on the wand Joe?
-Fourteenth century. European. I think... by what I can read on the markings on the fucking jpeg, the wand was mostly used to deal with the plague. May be a lucky charm, may be a healing tool, may be some druidic thing, but the engraving are definetily... ok, somewhat, celtic. And you? Any commenter with some idea of the wand?
-If any mage saw the picture, they did not make it public. And OP did not take the post down.
-Did you tell them what it was?
-No. Should I tell them it is magic and can change their lives forever? No, I told them it was a relic of some kind and that I would like to buy it.
-And they did not want to sell it.
-No. They want a better bid.
-Oh.
-Yep. I don't know who it is. Anyone you know that uses reddit on the regular?
-They don't really scream about it on public.
-The bid was on five figures. I don't think there was negotiation, not on a stick. The mage may be rich.
-Or a liar.
-May be. But we could try to explain the situation. Invited OP to a meeting.
-Where?
-Some mall.
-You don't have an adress?
-The plate is alredy set. We will appear on the bathroom of somewhere on England.
-Nice.
-----------------
-Ok. It's not a big stall.
-No. Could you open the door. Your leg is on my way, and I can't reach over your fat ass.
-Shh.
-Just open it Joe.
---------------------
-There was someone on the other stall.
-Ok. He will think we were having sex. Cramped, not efficient, kamasutry, sex. Where are we meeting them? He? She? What is it?
-The father. I 'think' he will bring the daughter as well, his name is David, his daughter is Emily.
-------------------
-Hi! David?
-Yes? - said David.
-Sean. From reddit. - said Sean, from reddit. - This is Joe. We are here to see the wand.
-Oh! Hi! Hi! I got it here.- David shook their hands, his little girl Emily hiding behind one of his legs. - I don't understand what is the value of this thing, but I guess it's pretty valuable. I'm sorry but I'm selling it to some other guy I found on reddit. I'm not trusting him that much, so I might end up coming back to you, so stick around the city. I'll meet him here today later. Here. The *magic* wand! - he produced the wand with a flourish from his backpack.
-Can I? - asked Joe. - I mean... Can I?
-Just be careful.
-Without the jpegging, what can you see? - asked Sean.
-Celtic. Gaul. Alder. I can't read the order lines but it is something anatomical. See here? - rambled Joe.
-Wow! You seem to know a lot about the thing. - said David.
-Yeah. I'm a... an archeologist. It would be an awesome... addition to the museum.
-Wow! You seem to know a lot about the thing. - said David.
-Thank you. Are you sure you don't want to make a contribution to the museum?
-Wow! You seem to know a lot about the thing. - said David.
-Joe? - said Sean. Uncertain.
-I don't know.
-Wow! You seem to know a lot about the thing. - said David.
-The meeting. He was meeting with someone here later. I think it is already later. And I think it is another mage. Look. - Joe pointed at the tables, where customers were in a trance. Lifting and lowering forks with nothing on them. - Try something. - Sean waved at David's face and he stopped and closed his eyes.
-Just a lock, then. They don't expect us here. And they may not be rich, but they are prepared. To lock the whole place. I think it was them that chose the place. Ok. Back to bathroom sex. With a wand! | 2017-07-30T02:44:28 | 2017-07-30T01:16:56 | 122 | 14 |
[WP] After a freak accident sending you far back in time, somehow you make a new life for yourself. One day while whistling a tune from the future to yourself; someone joins in with the correct lyrics ... | The song played in my head, like it always did. Its atmospheric melody, lulling me, making my head bob almost imperceptibly. I whispered the lyrics, as I always did. It helped get me through the day.
*I seen a girl*
*With a guy*
*Her hair like yours*
*From what I remember*
I hefted the block, putting it on my shaky shoulders. I carried it through the hot sands, struggling with every step. I saw a fellow slave being whipped for collapsing nearby. The scars on my back still pained.
*He took her hand*
*And smiled her name*
*Her face like yours*
*She smiled the same*
It seemed a fitting punishment. Flung into the past, Forced to slave away my sanity. At least I knew my work would stand the test of time. And yet, the song was the only thing keeping me grounded to reality.
*From what I remember*
*"Been so long since last December"*
I looked up. That last line... I looked up at the carriage being carried across the desert landscape. The pharaoh sat inside, surveying the work being done to the pyramids.
And next to him... there she was.
It was her.
Singing the song. *My* song.
I stood there, dumbfounded. A whip lashed out next to me, and I turned to see the same slave driver that lashed me last week.
I hefted the block and carried on like nothing had happened. She was the pharaoh's wife, and I was a broken man.
It was better this way.
*It's been so long since last December* | I sighed wistfully as I worked in the kitchen. I know I had a thing for the Victorian Era back home but I really didn't think I would ever be here. Or that I'd be washing dishes in the kitchen of a bordello. The Madam and the girls had found me in the ally behind their... Establishment, and took me in. I don't know how I got to the alley and I don't know how I got tossed back in time. All I can remember before the blank spot in my mind is getting into a fight with a group of other girls.
The Madam said I would need to work off my debt to them after I was healed. I told her I didn't have money and that I wouldn't whore myself out to pay the debt. She asked what I would do and I offered to act as a bodyguard, cook, and maid. She agreed reluctantly but gave me a room, some clothes and set me to work as soon as I was able to go.
I was getting the parlor and halls ready for the evening rush and all I could think about as I cleaned was my Grandmother and her whirlwind romance with my grandfather that resulted in them getting married after only two weeks of knowing each other. Their story was on my mind because one of the girls who worked here had gotten engaged. Her name was Elizabeth and her new fiancee was named Adam. He was her customer. He never requested any other girl. He wasn't rich, but he wasn't poor and Elizabeth wanted out of this lifestyle.
Thoughts of my grandparents had me smiling and humming as I worked. Their song was on repeat in my head. Elvis Presley's "Can't Help Falling in Love" was the song my grandpa would sing for my grandma even though she didn't speak English and he didn't speak Spanish.
I was fluffing the throw pillows on one of the over stuffed sofas and Madam was allowing men in for the evening. The song restarted in my head and I hummed from the beginning. The Madam smiled indulgently at me as she assisted men in handing over money.
I was half way through the first chorus when a low, deep voice joined my humming.
"Take my hand
Take my whole life too
'Cause I can't help
Falling in love with you."
I paused and turned around. The man, because no woman I knew in this time had that deep a voice, was tall with brown hair and green eyes. He was smiling at me and moved on to the next few lines.
"Like a river flows
Surely to the sea
Darling so it goes
Some things are meant to be."
I blushed when he stopped and looked expectantly at me. I swallowed thickly and cleared my throat.
"Take my hand
Take my whole life too
'cause I can't help
Falling in love with you."
He grinned, all straight, white teeth that didn't really belong in this time, and bowed. When he straightened up he held out his hand and I reached out to shake it. "My name is Kyle, I'm from Santa Fe 1999."
"Faith Draven, Phoenix 2017." | 2017-09-15T06:10:41 | 2017-09-14T17:00:02 | 50 | 35 |
[WP] To travel the stars, humanity has built a teleportation device: two doors must be built, and a portal opens linking them when both are turned on. We've sent instructions to build the second door in a radiowave broadcast into space. For decades we have waited for the portal to open... until now. | 100 years.
That's how long it's been since the project.
Everybody thought the project was a complete failure. Nobody pursued the project at all. The second door hasn't been opened in 100 years. I, myself, thought that was not enough time to judge, but people don't change.
No one thought about the project anymore. It was kept there, just so people can go see it.
Everybody who started the project isn't alive anymore. All of them are dead, for one reason or another.
But as for me, I've been admiring the project since I was 10. I would come there every weekend, hoping to see it finally open to the eyes of us human beings.
I was sure of it. I was called a maniac, a moron, and sometimes even brain-dead.
But I still believed.
I am now 32, I'd still go see the project every weekend, though i'd be lying if I don't say that I started to lose hope.
Until that day, a glowing light started coming from the door.
Everybody was scared. Some ran, some stayed, but on their guard.
But I smiled, and cried at the same time. I mean--- I've been tormented for 22 years for this.
It's the moment that finally proved that I am not a maniac.
I go in, tears filling my eyes. I enter the blue sphere in the middle.
And I am greeted by...
A guy who looks middle aged, wearing ancient, torn up clothes, on an unknown planet, which was very similar to earth in terms of the atmosphere.
He looked like a human, there was no way that he'd be an alien.
But he looked odd, like all life was sucked out of him.
"*It's worked, I guess*" He said, uninterested in anything.
People followed after me, and they all go in with their guns, ready to shoot if anyone of the presumed aliens tries to attack them.
But no one, except that guy, was there.
"*Who are you? and who built the second door?*" Said one of the bodyguards.
"*I've forgot my name long ago*" Said the guy.
They all look at each other, then signal something by nodding their heads, hands on their guns.
"*How did you get here, and when?*" Said one of the bodyguards.
"*I kept drifting around for about 2 million years, then I got here*" He said, like that wasn't crazy.
"*Wha- huh?*" Said one of the bodyguards, before cutting off, and saying "*Wait*".
"*Are you saying, you're an immortal being?*".
"*I guess, that's right, and I've been so for 40-50 billion years at least, though I've lost track of time*" He said.
"*And how exactly did you become Immortal?*" Asked another bodyguard.
"*I found the secret to immortality in the old world, though that's as much as I can inform you that you'll understand*" He said.
"*The old world?*" I wondered, with everybody thinking the same.
"*Each few billion years, an explosion occurs, and everything gets destroyed and rebuilt again*" He said.
"*I found the secret to immortality about 50 billion years ago, though I am not sure if it's actually 51...*".
"*This place is the closest habitable planet to the old planet in the former world which got exploded and rebuilt 13 years ago*".
"*I don't need oxygen or even a habitable planet, since I'm immortal, but I thought about the possibility of the new world attempting to open portals again*".
By now, about 20 people have gathered, the rest are probably prevented by the security at the project gathering.
I went to the door to go back and tell people about this huge step for humanity.
"*Oh, and one thing*" He said.
I am too excited to care, but I open the door, and am forced to listen,
"*The first door you guys built had a malfunctuioning entering mechanism*" He said.
"*You're stuck here*". | Gus ran his hands over the thick brown folder. *Top Secret*, it read in bright red letters on the cover. Flipping it open he scanned the pages. The Humvee hit a bump in the road as Gus clung to the papers. Dirt clouds wafted behind the military vehicle illuminated by a full moon. Gus peered out from the window at the dark dessert. Area 51. It was his third trip, the first two were routine checks and clearances. This trip was the real deal. They were waved through the heavily guarded barricade.
The soldier on the passenger side jumped out of the vehicle and opened the door for Gus. Gus handed him the folder. The soldier took it and set it on fire, throwing it to the ground. They watched the paper burn up quickly.
“Glad you could join us,” John said appearing out of the darkness, throwing up a salute. John was a military man through and through, from the perfect posture to his clean shaven face. Gus fit in with these people, he could fit in anywhere if push came to shove.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world sir,” Gus said returning the salute.
They made their way to a set of heavy steel doors illuminated by a small light. John entered the security code and placed his thumb on the bio-metric reader.
The bunker was eerily quiet, their footsteps echoed in the small hallway. The elevator stood at the end; the ride down felt endless.
“Can never be too careful,” John said as the elevator slowed. Gus nodded.
The elevator doors opened to two guards holding M4 rifles. The guards saluted and stepped aside. Gus and John entered a small room. John pointed Gus to a locker. Gus stripped down and donned a suit he fished out of the locker. The sleek suit fit perfectly. Gus was accustomed to the more bulky design used for spacewalks but he loved this new model.
John grinned at Gus, “Looking good.”
He pointed him to a door. Gus approached it and it slid open automatically. He stepped into a large white spherical room. At the end of it stood the gateway. Two large metallic pillars that emitted a blue light between them.
“Evening Gus. Please proceed to the gateway,” a voice commanded from inside his helmet.
Gus slowly walked towards the pillars and the blue hue. He balled his hands into fits. A film of sweat formed on his forehead. He gulped down hard. Standing in front of the gateway he felt the buzzing energy of the blue light. He reached out his hand towards it. On the other end of this portal was another species. A species that had received instructions beamed into space over 20 years ago. Instructions to build the receiving gateway. Gus was to be the first to make contact with whatever lay on the other side. He always envisioned himself flying to space with a crew. Now he was entering an unknown area of space with nothing more than this suit, his training and hope.
“All suit safety and recording instruments optimal. Gus you are free to enter."
“Affirmative. See you when I get back,” Gus replied.
Gus stuck his head in through the blue light. He saw a vast black expanse with shimmering lights, like the aurora borealis but made up of all colours.
*No going back now*, he thought as he walked into the space. He floated in the black expanse. Looking back he saw the blue light, reassuring himself of his return.
“It’s... it’s beautiful."
“We are getting all feeds Gus,” a voice crackled back.
Out of nowhere hundreds of little white lights appeared in his vision. They zoomed towards him and encircled his body. Gus stretched out his hands towards the lights.
“I’ve made contact.”
The white lights swam along his suit as Gus floated freely in space. A light hovered in front of his visor, pressing right up against it, then it was gone. Gus scrunched his nose as he felt an itch. The lights around him pressed up against his suit. Gus felt a jolt. It felt like a hundred little mosquito bites all at once. The lights were gone.
“You guys getting this?”
“Gus, we aren’t seeing much here, the feeds have cut out. We have collected all the data we need for now. Proceed back to the gate.”
Gus looked out into the expanse one last time. The spectrum of colours shimmered against black space. Gus turned back towards the gate.
Back in the small room he removed the suit. He gasped. His arms had hundreds of white pinpricks all over them.
“Gus. We are quarantining the room. Standard procedure. We will have medical staff out there for you shortly.”
Gus touched the white spots, they felt strange, almost metallic.
Panic started to well up in him. He tried to focus in on his breathing to calm himself but he couldn't take any air in. He tried to yell but no words escaped.
“Gus! We need you to back away from the door!” the speaker commanded.
Gus strained to gain control over his body but it was too late. As if possessed he struck the steel door with his fists, bending it. A loud alarm sounded throughout the bunker.
“Breach in holding area 33. Contamination protocols engaged,” the speaker crackled.
---
[Crossposted](https://steemit.com/fiction/@cizzo/first-contact-short-story-or-sci-fi) on [Steemit](https://steemit.com/@cizzo)
| 2017-09-30T11:18:18 | 2017-09-30T11:14:21 | 42 | 16 |
[WP] A girl becomes pen pals with a demon prince when she accidentally intercepts one of his magic scrolls. They carry on correspondence for years, confessing their secrets & dreams to each other. One day, the prince, soon to be king, sends the girl, now a woman, a final scroll: a marriage proposal.
Boy/princess responses are also welcomed. | I shuffled my papers. "This clause about the owning of souls is completely absurd."
Archaeoblix grinned. "Ah, you read that bit. I thought you would."
"And the bit in invisible ink? About ten thousand years in the lower planes sf hell? Not happening babe."
"How about the bit about-"
"-Devouring my unborn child? That would also be *your* unborn child, so that would be inadvisable."
"It's just a tradition. While we're at it, I noticed you snuck something into your side about me doing laundry for all eternity."
"I can't stand the folding!"
"We'll have a servant do it. And the bit about daily foot rubs until time dies?"
"...Yes?"
He smiled. "We'll leave that one in." | I've known them since I was a little girl. This magical creature, this demon, isn't as frightening as they must appear. I know their dreams, their heart.
It started when I was young. I was out with my mother, shopping. I found a large, wooden book. It was dusty and battered, but I discovered hinges. It was a portable writing desk. When you opened it, there were spaces for paper, ink, and pens. I loved it, and begged my mother to let me take it home.
I stayed up late that night cleaning it, polishing it, giving it a rich, deep gleam.
There was a blank plaque that I hadn't noticed before. I cleaned it as carefully, and then touched its shining surface. My name appeared in curling script, and then a scroll appeared in the box.
On it was a single line of unsteady letters. "Is anybody out there?"
It was the most natural thing in the world for me to write back, "Who are you?"
That was more than 15 years ago. I kept that book and cherished the entity on the other side. They weren't a person, they said. Not exactly. They weren't a human. They weren't a man or a woman. They were...a creature of ancient magic. There wasn't a word in human tongues to name them, so we agreed that "demon" was the closest. They weren't evil, though. Make no mistake. There was no way to pronounce their name, so I called them Vila.
Over the years we became close friends, sharing our hopes and dreams, our frustrations, and our knowledge. They taught me some spells, and I taught them about my world. We would send each other little trinkets of our worlds, we would comfort one another, we would daydream together.
We grew up together, in our different realities. I don't know why I was surprised, honestly, when I got the gilded scroll. It gave off its own golden light, and under the proposal rested a small box.
It had never occurred to me that it was possible. But my world had so little magic, why would it? The love had grown slowly in me, like a great and ancient tree, and now curled gently around my heart. I slowly reached down and lifted the box. Opening it, I whispered "Of course." | 2018-05-07T00:38:21 | 2018-05-07T00:26:50 | 114 | 43 |
[WP] When a sorcerer dies any spells they cast throughout their life that are still in effect will cease to be. An powerful and ancient wizard whose origins are clouded in mystery lays comatose on his deathbed and nobody knows what will happen once he draws his final breath. | The thing about being old, really old, is that when the time finally comes to leave this world, the world you grew up in will have left you a long time since. Archmage Prasutagus was definitely old. For nearly two millenia Prasutagus had defended the earth from mystical enemies, thanks to the power of his bloodline. For he is descended from Boudica herself.
Several lifetimes ago, he took his own name, Merlin. But now he preferred to go by the name of his birth. He found himself, so long now from the time of his youth, missing his mother dearly. He would be with her soon.
As the founder and head of the Royal Sorcerers of Londinium, he had protected the island of Britain from enemies for generations. But here, deep beneath the city in the ruins of the modest city, within the headquarters of the Royal Sorcerers he was powerless. Britain lie nearly defenseless now. soon the wards and mystic traps he laid hidden upon the island would fail.
Archmage Prasutagus head of the Royal Sorcerers of Londinium struggled to sit up in bed, and shortly his manservant entered and led him out of his quarters to the central chamber. Most of the chamber was taken up by the great round table. The same one from legend, for this was the real Camelot, buried beneath the bones of the greatest city of the world. It was surprisingly full. The mages who would normally be out on assignment protecting the island had been called back from service.
At the far end of the table sat the prince. Older than the last time. They always get older. Prasutagus still remembered his visits with Queen Elizabeth fondly. Both Elizabeths, actually. And the insufferable Charles, whose lack of hubris lead to his downfall and the rise of the black mage Cromwell, a rogue within Prasutagus' own organization. And distantly, he remembered the young Arthur, whom he molded into a capable king who founded this most remarkable empire. This would be the last.
The prince looked pensive, and concerned. Prasutagus was his friend, and like a second father to the man, although he was older than the Royal house itself. "I received your memo, Prasutagus, is there anything my family can do for you... to ease your...?" He wasn't sure he was ready to admit that his friend was truly dying.
"No, your highness. But you must understand the full implications of what will happen. As I said, when a sorcerer dies, what magic of theirs is left in the world is undone. All of the wards and shields will fall. You will be left defenseless."
The prince looked around at all the mages in the room, many were also his friends. The entire royal family supported their mission on numerous occasions. "I understand that, but surely the sorcerers here will be up to the task." He pointed across the table towards a young mage, "Why, I watched Miss Persephone single-handedly defend the Thames from the Leviathan and repair the tidal shield with precision. It is stronger than ever."
Persephone looked downcast towards her hands resting in her lap. The fight against the Leviathan had been mighty. The great beast ravaged the coast and blasted the magical shield guarding the river against the darkness with enough force to shatter windows for miles. The Leviathan had nearly won. It was then that Prasutagus knew his time was near. The shield had barely held. A shield that had been impervious to a thousand blows had shattered after only three.
Prasutagus sighed with resignation. He must choose his words carefully. This was where his legacy would live or die. "Persephone and the other sorcerers have been invaluable to me. Without them, our nation would have never survived as long as it has." He gestured around the table at the many senior mages present. The mages nodded sagely, none saying a word. Slowly they each stood up in turn and looked expectantly towards Prasutagus.
He considered them his friends, family even. They had stood by his side as he fought the unceasing hordes of demons and devils that threatened the world. He would miss them, just as he missed his own family who had died hundreds upon hundreds of years ago. However this truly was the end. If he was to give these people hope at survival, then he must swallow his pride and give up all of the securities and comforts that he had afforded himself these lonely years.
"if our world is to survive any further you must find a new sorcerer. I believe there is a young girl who might save you all. Like I did centuries ago. Your family must begin the search for her now."
The prince looked bewildered. Surrounded by so many powerful mages in one room, each more powerful than a battalion of soldiers. There were over a hundred Royal Sorcerers. The idea that a young girl would be a match for them, or a replacement for the man who used to be known as Merlin seemed preposterous.
"How could all of these sorcerers pale in comparison to a little girl? How could a hundred sorcerers not match the power of one?"
Prasutagus' manservant gently draped his robes over his shoulders as Prasutagus weaved a spell he had committed to memory generations ago, never having the courage to cast it. His magic would be undone either willingly or upon his death. Now, it would be both. One by one the sorcerers around the table bowed their heads low and faded into twinkling stars and emptiness. As his manservant touched his shoulder as if to say farewell, he too disappeared.
"Because, your highness, until now there has ever only been one sorcerer. I am sorry." Tears welled in his eyes. He could help no further. His power faded as quickly as the setting sun's last rays vanished.
"Find the girl, she is your only hope."
Merlin, the Sorcerer of Londinium, closed his eyes and drew his final breath. The shields fell. Darkness is coming. Somewhere, a young girl will discover that the darkness is coming for her. | Countless people from countless kingdoms had traveled countless miles, just to see if the rumors about Merlin the Great were true.
I'm one of those people. Yeah, the rumors were absolutely true. The old man was dying. He was completely motionless. Not even the best clerics from across the land were able to help him with their magical healing capabilities. It was simply the old man's time to go.
Ever since I was a kid, I'd heard stories about Merlin. I couldn't tell you how many of them were actually TRUE, but I feel like people wouldn't know as much as they do about him if he was a phony. So, when someone tells me that he once deflected a meteor back into the skies, or blew up an entire island populated by demonic creatures, I'll take their word for it.
Anyways, there were hundreds of people gathered around the guy. Nobody claimed to know him personally, and he was out cold, so... No one could really confirm if he was, in fact, the great wizard that all of us had heard tales of since our childhood. I guess we all just found the word-of-mouth to be completely credible. Looking at the scale of this event, though, I don't think there's a chance that this guy ISN'T Merlin. The clerics surely would've told us all off by now if he was some random civilian.
A few more minutes passed.
Nothing was really happening. There was a lot of murmuring among the crowd, but it was pretty damn uneventful.
I could be getting hammered at some tavern right now.
"Excuse me, everyone!" a voice rang out from the front of the crowd. One of the clerics was making an announcement. "The sorcerer you see lying here, is, in fact, Merlin the Great. He has fallen very ill, and, as I'm sure you're all aware, his spells will not last beyond the grave!"
There was a lot more murmuring now.
"How do you know it's the real Merlin?" someone from the center of the crowd had yelled, backed by a couple of "yeah"s.
"Before he went comatose, Merlin confirmed his identity. His legendary battle scars, the way he spoke, and his belongings all fit the descriptions of-"
"Merlin's belongings are here?!" another person had interrupted.
"Merlin the Great's staff is right in this area?!"
"I'M GONNA GET THAT STAFF!"
It took a solid 10 seconds for the crowd to go from attentive to crazy. Knights and wizards were trampling over each other in a desperate attempt to loot the dying Merlin. I couldn't even make my way out at this point. My entire field of view was taken up by people nearly running me over. I couldn't tell if the clerics had been trampled, or if Merlin himself had been pushed out of his bed, but I knew for sure, this was DEFINITELY more exciting than whatever was going on before. I pulled out my sword, ready to stab my way to that sweet, sweet loot. It was hard to even swing my sword around, until finally, bodies started dropping. Now there was more room to maneuver around. I could actually see my surroundings, for the first time in a hot minute.
"GIMME HIS BAG!"
"HIS STAFF! WHO TOOK IT?"
"I GOT HIS HAT!"
The crowd was beginning to form a human pyramid. They were all just trampling over, and standing on each other, I didn't even know that was possible, but it was pretty crazy.
"HEY! THAT GUY HAS THE STAFF NOW!" someone yelled, pointing at a a scrawny-looking dude who was sprinting away from the crowd as fast as he could. The wave of staff-lusted adventurers shifted to chase after the scrawny guy. I'm not nearly as determined to get the staff as these guys are, but I haven't been apart of something this fun in a while. So, naturally, I ran after the scrawny guy as well. I leapt, and slashed whoever was in my way, getting rammed a couple of times by some heavily-armored barbarians. That didn't stop me though. My adrenaline was WAY too high for me to stop. This was either going to end with me getting the staff, getting knocked out, or getting killed. I leaned in, running faster than I ever had before, trying my best to keep up with everyone. I began to falter. I was falling a bit behind the crowd. I was just about ready to pass out from exhaustion, when, just on my luck, the scrawny dude had begun to circle back around. Seeing as I was at the back of the crowd, he was headed right towards me! Ha!
I readied my sword, getting into a cool-looking stance that probably wasn't very practical. I followed his movements. He was swerving mostly to the left to avoid getting tackled. Every single time, he was moving left. I readied myself EVEN harder, however that works. He was getting closer to me. Scrawny dude was about to be impaled by my hands, in
3...
2...
1...
He was right by me. I leapt towards him, sword extended. And just as I had predicted, he ducked to the...-
Right?
Oh shit.
The one time he dodges to the right, it was to avoid the only person who realized he was always ducking to the left.
I soared through the air, sword embarrassingly extended towards nothing. It was like I was moving in slow-motion. This would've been a lot more humiliating if anyone was paying enough attention to care, but no matter. I'll simply land back on the ground, brush myself off, and-...
Hold up. My sword definitely penetrated something fleshy. For the first time in a while, I averted my attention from the rampaging crowd to see what I had stabbed.
My sword was nestled comfortably in the chest of Merlin the Great.
How did this guy even get over here? It's like someone spear-tossed him off of his death bed, and he coincidentally landed right where I was thrusting my sword towards. I guess nobody could see him through the cloud of dust that the rampaging crowd was leaving behind them.
Well, that's neat. I just helped kill Merlin the Great. At least I'll have a unique story to tell people on my long travels. Maybe I should loot his robes, which, luckily, no one else had thought of doing.
I took the robes off of his body, leaving him in his casual-wear. I turned back towards the crowd to see if scrawny was still carrying the staff.
The crowd had run quite some distance in the last 30 seconds. I couldn't even see who had the staff anymore.
I began to walk towards the nearest town, in search of a merchant, when I heard the sound of an explosion as loud as the roar of a dragon. The explosion came from where the crowd was. Maybe Merlin's staff had a defensive spell on it, like, one that would make it blow up as soon as he was dead.
Speaking of things that might happen once Merlin dies... The world should be going to shit pretty soon. Monsters should start appearing from every direction, floods should begin drowning the entire world... Or, at least if the stories about Merlin were true.
Nothing has happened for a couple minutes now. Maybe the guy was just a fake Merlin, an impostor. Or, maybe the tales were nothing more than fiction.
Either way, who cares? I sure don't, 'cause I've got the guy's robes now! I'm gonna be able to trade these for a horse, or something.
-------------------------------------------
It's really late and I should be getting some rest. Oops. Sorry for any typos, I don't have time to proof-read :( Hope you guys enjoyed my story attempt. Nice prompt, OP. | 2018-05-24T05:08:18 | 2018-05-24T00:13:02 | 25 | 17 |
[WP] Sick of being lied to you beg the Gods for change and one takes pity on you. Now when people lie to you a little text box appears next to them that only you can see, with the lie, the truth, and their motive for lying. | "Have you done it yet?"
The being, a god, apparently, smiles.
"Yep," it says, "all done."
"Huh," I say, "I didn't feel a thing."
"Told you I'd be gentle," it replies, beaming wider. "Now, remember, no backsies."
"Oh, no," I shake my head, "definitely not. I'm sick of being lied to. I think you've really helped me out here. Thank you, strange being with your supernatural powers and probably only good intentions."
The being suppresses a giggle.
"Think nothing of it. It was my pleasure Welcome to your new, better life!"
A small box appears next to the being that I am just able to read before it and the being both vanish in a flash of light.
*Lie: your life will be better.*
*Truth: your life is about to become far, far worse.*
*Motivation: bored and evil.*
Dang it. | Alyssa's head was in her hands. She knew she had to make a decision; she couldn't keep Her waiting any longer.
"Yes," she said without much confidence. "I'm sure."
There wasn't a flash of light, no thunderous boom from a cannon or novelty explosion of confetti. Alyssa just felt warm for a few moments, and then everything was normal again. She'd thought being granted a gift from the Gods would be more dramatic.
The elementary school teacher had spent her entire life being taken advantage of. Alyssa was smart but too trusting -- her mother often called a puppy. A smiling bundle of joy that always gave people the benefit of the doubt, despite what experience had taught her. It had caused her too much heartache and pain.
And this morning was set up to be the worst of them all.
The deity appeared as she sat on the toilet weeping. Her pajamas were all the way up -- she wasn't using the bathroom, she was just unable to control her crying and didn't yet have the courage to walk back to her bedroom and ask what needed to be asked.
"This power can be a curse," explained the God softly. "Yes, you will always know. But knowledge is a burden. A life of total transparency and absolute truth is rife with pain."
Alyssa understood the explanation. But given the situation... yes, yes, she wanted the power. A life of painful truth would be better than the life she might accept this morning based on a lie.
There was nothing left for it. It'd be easier to hide in the bathroom forever, but better to rip the band-aid off. Alyssa opened the door and walked to her bedroom.
She looked down on her girlfriend's still-sleeping face. The comforter was half off, revealing that one breast had fallen out of her tank top in the night. There was that little mole Alyssa loved so much, just under her nipple, because she was the only one who knew about it. Or so she had thought.
Alyssa touched her on the neck. Her girlfriend had been a light sleeper ever since they met two years ago, just after she'd broken up with Jeff. *For good this time*, she'd claimed.
She woke up groggily. "Hey sweetie."
But Alyssa had no patience for pleasantries. Her hand shook as she held up the positive pregnancy test she'd found in the trash and asked, "Is this yours?"
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13/365
one story per day for a year. read them all at [r/babyshoesalesman](https://www.reddit.com/r/babyshoesalesman)
\--------------------
edit: some style and small phrasing changes, nothing major | 2018-07-02T11:39:15 | 2018-07-02T09:40:13 | 215 | 66 |
[WP] Fed up with the so many people not taking their warnings seriously, scientists all over the world decide to take matters into their own hands and become super villains in order to fix the world, whether people like it or not. | OOC: I'm late to the party and as such nobody is going to read this but it's a fun one so I'm going to write anyway, upvotes be damned.
"At 10am today, the Evil Supervillainess, 'Mistress Organic' dumped tonnes of graphite to the White House and Senate bathrooms via underground microbores. Thick layers of black dust now cover the bathroom surfaces. So far authorities have both failed to apprehend Miss Organic and plug the leak. Emergency portable toilets have been issued. When asked about her motives Miss Organic had this to say:"
The screen showed the evil villainess in a carbon black victorian dress cackling,"You cannot stop me! My microbots will keep digging new holes and keep the carbon coming. And what's more I have a near INFINITE SUPPLY of it! That soot that is filling your toilet bowl, I get it FROM THE AIR! MUAWHAHAHAHAHA!"
"Meanwhile the notorious Professor O'Neill has reportedly just finished his orbital death laser. O'Neill is currently negotiating with the UN:"
The screen showed a split screen of the UN General Assembly and a white-coated professor in what looked like a space station. "FOR THE LAST TIME, IT'S NOT AN ORBITAL LASER! It's a LANGRAGIAN MASER! Lagrangian, because it sits at the Sun-Earth lagrange point, and maser because it converts Petawatts of solar radiation into polarized microwave radiation into a single focused beam!"
"So this microwave laser-" "MASER!" "Yes Professor, MASER, you plan on using it to boil humanity alive unless we meet your demands, correct?" Asked the Secretary-General.
"NO, NO, NO. I'm going to shine it on rectennas on earth to provide you with free energy!"
"What? Why would you do that? And why would we accept? We already have perfectly working power plants."
Suddenly the UN went pitch black, as the chamber filled with black pitch. Out of the oozing pitch rose Mistress Organic in a now pitch-black victorian dress.
"NOT ANYMORE! The entirety of the world's coal-fired power plants only have 15 minutes remaining of coal left to power your pitiful society! You see, I STOLE, your... COAL." | He took the cigarette away from his mouth, looking into his half full whiskey glass. I waited, wide eyed across the table from him. We were in a small booth in some dive bar on the lower east side, it was smokey and while people occupied every seat, not a soul stirred in there. Somber expressions littered the scene, men drinking away their trouble, women drinking away their men. It was a hot night and the cigarette smoke made breathing a complex feat of timing. He lifted the cigarette to his mouth once more, his leather jacket worn at the sleeves, wrinkled, sagging skin shifting against his hollow cheeks. After a long inhale, he blew smoke into my face and began talking.
​
"Clean is a good guy, best of the best, doesn't kill nobody. He used to invent things back at the lab, you see.". The grave of a smile flickered against his thin, tobacco stained lips. "You know those automatic trash collectors? All him, and the night time visits he has those robots pay to people who litter? Worked like a charm. City's never been so clean.". He wrapped his free hand around the whiskey glass, taking a moment to sip at it. After another drawn out inhale from his cigarette, he looked across the room, nodding at a fellow leaning on the bar. He wore a green, thick jacket with black cargo pants and heavy workmans boots. A cap sat on top of his head and he had a toothpick in his mouth. A cigarette burned in a nearby ashtray and a half empty beer bottle sat to his right.
​
"That guy? That's Charge. He's a little more rogue. We know he's killed, we just ain't sure how many. One night, we had to pay a guy a visit. Big, Bel Air mansion. One o' those dark nights that got a promise of secrets, you know you're gonna see some shit, you just don't know what. Ever had one of those nights? Not important. See, the problem wasn't the mansion, it was the lights. Fifty three rooms, Charge counted 'em, with every damn light on. Lamps with lights, phones, laptops. You name it, this asshole had it. Charge had a little device. Could work out consumption from a distance and this guy was off the charts. Oh boy, was he pissed. When we got to the gate, a guard had asked us if we had an appointment, and charge shot him in the damn throat. Now, in my line of work this isn't surprising, but even I got a bit of a jump."
​
"Anyway, we found the guy, hooked him up to a car battery and watched him fry. Charge liked the poetry of it all I guess.". I knew my jaw was hanging open, my eyes even wider, and I did not care. Things were so out of control, he was here, admitting to accessory murder, implicating a guy not 10 feet away from me in the crime. I gathered my composure, and I was about to ask a question of my own, the last question I could think of, before he put his hand into his pocket.
​
"Anyway, this ain't a social call. I've got work to do". He leant back on the chair, ice blue eyes looking around the room. "And...", I begun, "what is it you do?". The smile resurrected and showed off a row of stained teeth, some crooked, gums bulging and red at the sides. His hand came out from under the table, only now it held a black, sig sauer pistol. He pulled back the slide and checked the chamber, before turning the gun to me. "Me? My things overpopulation. They call me death".
​
Then he pulled the trigger. | 2018-11-24T10:14:13 | 2018-11-24T05:48:09 | 23 | 12 |
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet." | "Goosha?" I said, tilting my head a bit. "Who are they?"
The alien looked at me strangely. I had difficulty reading his expression. He was almost entirely human in appearance, with angular features and an air of delicacy and grace. The only thing that would separate him visually from a human were his ears; they were long and tapered to a point, sticking out somewhat from his long flowing hair.
But despite visual similarities to a human, his expression and body language were impossible to read. Impassive and imperious, utterly devoid of any movement that wasn't mediated and pondered. He spoke neutrally and flatly, "The Goosha? The Lords of the Sky?"
I could only shake my head in ignorance. Who or what was a 'Goosha'? "I'm unfamiliar with that word."
"So, the "red green blue" is accurate then? You don't have psir cones in your eyes?"
"I have no idea what... sire? sigher? Is."
"A pity." the alien said, gesturing beside him. "Because a representative of the Goosha stands before you."
I looked to the side of him, and saw only empty air. "Is this a joke?"
"Hardly." a snide tone slipped into the alien's voice, his posture subtlely shifting to a haughty loom. "Goosha are about twelve inches tall, shaped bipedally like you and I, with psir skin and neoil hair. They have two diaphanous ciavi wings and communicate by glowing in a variety of colors."
"I don't know what sire, knee-oil, and see-ah-vee are."
"Hmm. I suppose not." the alien sighed resignedly. "You would need psir cones to see the other colors that happen when you mix red blue and green with them. A pity. " he held his chin a moment in consideration. "What about the Sebt? The Tintari?"
I could feel my face getting hot. "I don't know *those* words, either."
The alien's expression grew... I think it was cold. "The Lords of Magma and Sea? You don't know of them, either?"
I slammed the table. "Look, Mister... whatever your name was, if you wish to open contact with our world, you are going to have to stop with these juvenile pranks. There are NO people living on this planet by ANY of those names."
"Re-open contact you mean." the alien said, not missing a beat. "And my name is Aedwyn. We use to *share* this world with Men, before we left to cross the western sky. But it seems Men have forgotten much of their own people's past."
In the empty space to Aedwyn's right, a burst of color suddenly flaired into existence, brilliant pinks and yellows. There were brief gaps of nothing, what seemed to be... *holes* in the light.
I fell into my chair, mouth hanging open. "What... was THAT?"
"That was my Goosha friend, making a considerable effort to speak in red-green-blue spectra for your convenience. A terrible strain on them, I do hope you appreciate it." Aedwyn settled into his chair, grinning knowingly. "He was simply reminding me that Goosha, Sebt, and Tintari, are not the words you would know those people's by."
Aedwyn's grin grew wider, as if coming to the long-anticipated punchline of a joke. "Goosha: Fairy. Sebt: Dwarf. Tintari: Mermaid. And Iliene..." he tapped the points of his tapered ears briefly, "Elf."
"NOW, maybe you remember?"
| "Three colors? What exactly do you mean by that?"
"Ah, I apologize."
The being across from me taps its headset a few times, twisting a few dials.
"I believe my translator made an error," it says.
Oh well. It happens.
"I believe I've fixed it. Now, is it true your species can only exist in three dimensions?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"Ah, that explains the lack of faster than light travel."
"I suppose it does," I say, twirling a pen in my right hand.
"So the primary reason for this exchange is technological, I take it?"
It asks its questions in that weird imitated monotone of computerized speech. Must be a fancy AI, too. It's got simulated inflections and regional dialects and everything.
Pretty deep in the uncanny valley, I'd say.
"Well we've received many signals from your planet, and offer a simple exchange. With our upgrades, you should be able to craft spacecraft that are capable of faster than light travel."
Excellent. That's exactly what we wanted to hear.
"And our corporation will maintain exclusive rights to this technology for the next decade," I say.
It shakes its tendrils around its head in mock acceptance. Closest thing to a nod, I assume.
"In exchange, we'll give you exclusive rights to our combat drone schematics, specifically the orbital defense designs."
It salivates slightly, and something wet and heavy drips onto the floor.
Disgusting.
"This seems to be a fair exchange, is it not, human?"
"I believe so."
With this tech we'll be able to beat out those generational colony ships sent out hundreds of years ago, back when we were first starting to crack open asteroids in the belt between Mars and Jupiter.
"I do have another question, human."
"Ask away," I say. Though I have some idea of what it may be.
"The Ghoosha sent messages to us as well, asking for aid in exchange for our technology."
"The Ghoosha?"
"The other race."
"Ah."
Bit of a sad story, but still, it's just curiosity. Humans have an amazing ability to forget about the atrocities they'll commit to stay alive.
"Well that was mostly accidental," I say.
Accidental in the way a man takes out a life insurance policy on his soon to be dead partner.
"They lived beneath the oceans, and couldn't survive on land. Gills and all, to be precise."
"Indeed," the alien representative says, though I can't tell if the emotion is genuine or falsified.
"We killed them before we'd discovered gravitons."
"How so?"
"Too much plastic in the ocean. Shredded their lungs to bits."
"And they asked us to save them?"
"We believe so. No one discovered their messages until after they'd died."
"I imagine it was quite a shock to find underwater civilizations in the deep abyss."
"That it was."
The alien seems to ponder this, and stands to leave.
"We appreciate doing business with you," it says.
"Likewise."
As it leaves, we already have begun to receive the schematics. Easily decipherable, though that goes without saying.
*BZZZZZZZZZZ*
A notification from my cybernetic implant.
"Mr. Rogers?"
"Yes?"
"Shall we upload the schematics now?"
"Yes."
"How long will it take for them to notice they're corrupted?"
"Oh, they won't figure it out until it's too late."
I take out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a deep drag.
Ghoosha. What a stupid name. A stupid species that died a stupid death because it wasn't willing to step up and do what needed to be done.
I wonder what they called themselves. Plenty of anthropologists dig through those strange artificial cities carved into the ocean floor, though the language still can't be deciphered. Maybe if we sell planet cracking rights to Mercury they'll give us a few more uplifting designs.
Ghoosha. Call them what you want. I'll just think of them as those idiot squids trapped in oceans so polluted it'd be like trying to breathe through a constant stream of gasoline poured down your throat.
The aliens will build our designs, and be quite surprised when we activate the backdoor and turn their systems against them.
Hell, they never expected their android servants to begin resisting and destroying their own creators. Whatever they think of us, they don't seem to blame humanity for those schematics.
Whatever. What's the saying? Fool me once, shame on you.
Fool me twice?
Well that just makes you a sucker. Infect them with a disease and they come to us for the cure.
Not our fault they gave up warfare a long time ago.
After all, there's not that much room in the solar system anymore.
And there's always profit to be found in the most unlikely of places.
Perhaps on their home world.
Perhaps on their stations.
Perhaps from their own star.
Another drag.
With these ships, it won't take us long to get there. Scan their system, infiltrate communication arrays, map their colonial strongholds and systematically take what's theirs. We got shareholders to please and they're impatient sons of bitches.
It's nothing personal.
Just business.
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r/storiesfromapotato | 2018-12-04T11:27:13 | 2018-12-04T08:31:40 | 3,287 | 1,201 |
[WP]When you reach 18, you get put in a database which ranks you in different categories (ex. 207,145th in the world for most bug kills) You lived on a ranch and never used tech. You had to go into town after your 18th birthday. Everyone is staring at you. You finally decide to check the database.
Completely unaware of the whole stigma about edits. I’m sure all of you already know how grateful I am, but I apologize nonetheless. Sorry! | It all happened so fast. I was going into town for a shovel. Earlier that day I'd broken one digging a drain trench out behind the barn.
Now I was sitting at a table in a room with a long mirror along the wall. The kind you see in a cop movie where they are shaking down a suspect.
Oh fuck. I'm a suspect. But for what. I barely leave the farm.
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way", and middle aged man in a suit was entering the room . He had a briefcase and a tablet. Closely behind him was another man. He appeared to be some high ranking military officer.
"Umm I really don't......." I was cut off.
"Don't play dumb with us James. You have to know why you're here." he was clearly annoyed with me.
Then it hit me. Dad's brother Pete spends a lot of time up in the back corner of the farm at the edge of the forest and he always smells like weed.
"That mother fucker! Listen, it was dad's brother. He's always up there. If you're looking for the weed he's the guy you want! " My voice was starting to crack, I was scared as hell.
"We don't care about the weed, we found that about an hour ago" The military man took the tablet from the suit.
"It's the global calculated rankings son." he was swiping his finger over the screen. "This showed up on the new rankings section at 8:43 this morning!"
He slid the tablet across the table. A new page was displayed on the screen. Only one entry was on the list.
\*\*New Category\*\*
\*\*05/04/2019\*\*
\*\*Most Extraterrestrial Invaders Killed Or Defeated\*\*
1. James Marshall (1 Kill)
​
​
The suit looked a little angry but now he mostly looked scared.
"We just want some insight into what we might be up against"
​
The only problem was.
I had no idea.
EDIT: wow. I’m really blown away by the response to this. Thanks so much everyone.
I really had intended to leave it at that but I do have an idea where it’s going. If I like where it goes I’ll continue. | I arrived in town around 8 as usual. Ideally my father would come to town to pick up supplies so I wouldn’t have to, but he insists I learn how to interact with folks who aren’t farmers. So far, all I’ve learned is that I hate them. All their focus on money and possessions seems absurd to me. I’m a simple man. Animals and plants are more than enough company, and nothing can beat the satisfaction of a good day's work on the farm.
That’s why I like to come to town as early as possible and leave as quickly as possible. The lazy townsfolk seem to get out of their houses only after 10, wasting a good several hours of daylight. So imagine my surprise when I found a huge crowd right outside the hardware store. They were milling around, sipping hot drinks and chatting amongst themselves. I had a brief moment of panic as I wondered if the store was closing for some reason. Perhaps people were buying as much of the inventory as they could before the store shut down. But, I realized, it wouldn’t make sense why the crowd was waiting outside the store, and not shopping inside.
As I got out of my truck and walked towards the front of the store, a few people noticed me and immediately started pointing towards me and shouting. I felt a pit in my stomach - of course all the townspeople wanted to do was to make fun of the farmer. I remember one day back in school a few years ago, a group of kids from the town rode up and threw eggs at us as they mocked us for working the farm. I felt a flash of rage as I braced myself for the taunting soon to come.
To my surprise, however, as I neared the group, the people greeted me with warm smiles. A lady, flanked by a crew carrying two enormous cameras, burst through the crowd and began speaking a mile a minute: “Hello John. My name is Ann and I’m with TWN-1. It’s great to see you today morning. How are you feeling today in light of the discovery? Had you known you were the son of Mr. Bates? Do you plan to remain on your farm or join your father in New York?”
“I...uh...I think you have the wrong person. Sorry.” I tried wading through the crowd but the lady blocked my way.
“Please Mr. Bates. I know you’re a very busy man, but we would all really appreciate the chance to learn more about you. As I’m sure you know, hardly anything interesting happens in this area, and when something finally does it seems awfully rude to refuse to talk to us for just a few minutes.” Around me, I could see people nodding their heads in agreement and frowning.
“Umm. Ok. But I really think you have the wrong person. Joe Last is my father, not some guy named Mr. Bates.”
The lady laughed at that. Then she looked into the camera and said “Well, folks, it appears Mr. Bates hasn’t heard the exciting news yet!” She turned towards me. “Mr. Bates, as you know, every year the government publishes a list of the wealthiest people in America.” I had no idea a list like that was published, but I nodded anyways. “You became eligible for the list on your 18th birthday and yesterday we all found out that you’re worth nearly ten billion dollars! Mr. Bates claimed you as his son at a press conference a few hours ago and is flying down to visit you as we speak. Isn’t that terrific!?!”
The lady smiled and looked at me expectantly. I...didn’t know what to say. This was all too much. Joe Last was my father…but how could all these people be mistaken?
“I...thank you for the information. If you’ll just excuse me.” I turned around and bolted back towards my truck. Behind me I could hear shouting and the sound of people following me.
But there was only one thought in my mind. I needed to have a chat with Joe Last. | 2019-05-04T11:15:23 | 2019-05-04T09:56:06 | 6,214 | 226 |
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?" | The witch buried her face in her hands and sighed, "AGAIN, it's the Curse of Optimism. You will never be able to understand the potential negative consequences of any decision you make."
"That doesn't sound like much of a curse", I replied.
"You will be the eternal optimist", she explained. "You will only see the upside, never the downside."
"That doesn't sound so..."
"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND," she interrupted, exasperated. "You will bet on every loser, because you're positive it's their time to win. You will fall victim to get-rich-quick scheme after get-rich-quick scheme, because you know there is no way you'll lose money. You will want to get back together with every abusive ex, no matter how many times they've cheated. Timeshares will sound like a great idea."
As she finished, I blinked. "So...what's the downside again?" | "I curse you and your entire bloodline!" Lycania shouted. Her vine covered shack now a ball of raging flames. It served as a window to her own fury building. They have finally cornered the ancient witch and her last moments alive would be spent scorning the man who made it possible. Ulfur froze, knowing how devasting a witch's curse can be, he wanted to know the details before killing her.
Although she was surrounded by the royal army, Lycania's silver eyes saw only Ulfur, the mage killer. He stood out well from the rest, his body fully covered in silver plated armor. At his sides a crystal blade as tall as a man and a crystal shield to match; Witchbane and Arcane Scorge, weapons crafted with the sole purpose of killing magic casters. Lycania pointed her crooked finger at Ulfur, snarling like a mad beast. "You will turn into an unstoppable monster, full of power and rage. Your life will linger, eternally tormented, and at each full moon, the curse will grow its strongest. No man will match your strength. No horse will match your speed. No animal shall be more savage. People will cower and speak your name in fear." Lycania cocked her head sideways and glared at the rest of the men, finally acknowledging their presence. She let out an ominous laugh. "You can kill me here, you fools. And when I die you will unleash the wrath of an unstoppable demon. No blade will kill him. No bow will pierce his skin. The only thing you fools will be able to do is submit and beg for mercy as your entire bloodlines are infected with his...with mine."
Lycania erupted in laughter again and suddenly motioned the fire from her burning shack into a ball. She flicked her wrist sending the fireball towards Ulfur who had already closed the distance. Arcane Scorge absorbed the magic attack and Witchbane was raised, ready to claim Lycania's head. However, before he killed his last mark, Ulfur had one last thing to tell her. He kept his voice low so no one else could hear. "Your curse is more than I could ever hope for. Thank you, Lycania...and goodbye." Witchbane cleaved through, slicing the witch's head and body in one motion. Ulfur's emotionless, yellow eyes stared into Lycania's and her body fell into two pieces. | 2019-06-25T15:21:51 | 2019-06-25T12:54:50 | 1,435 | 17 |
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?" | "I see your plumpness." She crowed. "Oh yes, very wealthy you must be to afford so much food. I'm sure your resounding footsteps set all the ladies a quiver. With this spell, you shall shed your fat. No matter how much you eat you'll not gain it back."
I glanced down at my plump form. It was true, I was heavy, even approaching the fabled "dummy thicc". I'd been trying all sorts of diets, but their gallant efforts were crushed beneath my inexhaustible love of dessert. I sighed.
The witch didn't look the part at all. She was old, sure, elderly even, and she did wear a pointy hat, but the stereotype ended there. She wore thick bifocals and walked with the aid of a walker, complete with little tennis balls on the front. She wore a pastel bath robe over a t-shirt with a kitten hanging from a tree branch, words beneath read "hang in there". Her legs wobbled as she stood.
"I... I don't know what to say. Being fat hasn't been a status symbol in a long, long time. I've been trying to lose weight, actually."
"Oh, I know, deary." She said with a kind smile. "I'm an old witch, though, and all I know is curses, and you're such a nice young man. Now would you care for a treat? The cookies are nearly done."
"I probably shouldn't..." I said, reluctantly.
"Now listen here, I can bottle dreams and brew love, I think I can find my way around some chocolate chips." She began to shuffle back to the kitchen. "It's not like you're going to get any fatter."
I obliged and followed her into the small kitchen, wincing at the peeling linoleum. She fumbled with an oven mitt for a moment. "Do you need help with that?"
The oven door opened and the smell of cookies came wafting out. "I can manage." She said, setting the cookie sheet down across a pair of burners, which wobbled.
I took a brief glance at my surroundings. The house was in a sorry state. The paint was flaking, the window sat crooked. "I'm not really busy this weekend. Maybe I could come over and help you fix up the place?"
"You do something like that you're likely to get a powerful curse coming your way. I've got a few I learned in Egypt a long time ago. Horrible, terrible things."
"Like boils and fever and bad dreams?" I asked, leaning over the dingy little table and accepting a steaming mug of something that the witch slid my way.
"Oh that's kid stuff. I'm thinking more biblical. Maybe from Ezekiel 23." She grinned but I didn't get the reference, and her grin faded as she dropped a lump of sugar into her mug and stirred. "Oh, folks in those days had the strangest idea of what a curse was."
Edit: This was rapidly going nowhere and I didn't want to scrap it and I had a better idea for a much shorter response, which I'll write now.
She cackled. "My most powerful curse! A curse that cannot be undone! I curse you with long life! So that you may watch as your children as I write their destiny. Great your works may be, but they shall pale in comparison to your children, which shall likewise pale in comparison to the works of your children's children. Generation after generation their success will grow until all your work, all you've accomplished will be forgotten beneath their fully realized potential!" She cackled, a hideous sound that slowly faded.
"I... Thank you!" I shouted. That's all any parent wanted, right? For their kids to do better than them.
The witch deflated, then turned around slowly, mumbling "well I don't know what I did wrong that really upset the pharaoh last time I did it." | Of course, it was not very pleasant. I just failed my payment. But then, it was not easy with the king getting his taxes, with my wife and children needing food. Yes, we had money, usually.
Not that winter. Who could have thought that it is war again? Who could have thought that we had to flee? We returned a few months later, but by then I was months overdue.
I made that pun. Whenever I was asked what the secret of my youth was, I answered with "Mary". They understood "Marry!", and I never elaborated further than saying that a good woman can give you a long life. I wish I knew how right I was.
The spring of 1620 was financially fine but not plentiful. But eventually I had to go to her. I brought the money. She was okay with it. But she had to curse me. It was a contractual agreement, but in an exchange for some payment she also would give me the means to break that curse whenever I wanted.
I had asked for youth, for a long life. She gave it to me.
"So. There is a curse. What is it? So... what's the downside again?" I nervously blinked. I don't do that anymore, but at that time I did. Her curse was that I would live so long that I would have to see everyone I loved die. Only then could I break that curse and die myself. Furthermore I would be the last of my bloodline. My children would not have children, my wife would not have any more children.
The war went on. It went on until 1648. We lost much, our house was destroyed twice. My eldest son fell in a battle, my youngest fell ill and passed away. My daughter, the only child left, eventually married but remained childless. Our marriage, in its beautiful times, ended with more pregnancies, but the children died at birth. The doctors were unable to explain it. When rumors came up in 1632, we had to leave the city. We moved away to a place where nobody knew us. Of course, I was cursed. But they thought we killed the children. They thought we were punished by God.
The hardest day in my life was when a child of my wife did not die at birth. It was then that I knew that she was no longer loyal to me. I pretended to go for work, but I drowned myself. I jumped into a river, I bonked my head, I slept for many hours. Or as I learnt later, I was unsoncsious. We did not have that word.
But I woke up. I coughed out all the water in my lungs. My cold skin turned warmer as my heart beat again. This was the extent of the curse. I would not die. I would keep my youth. I cried. At that day I cried more than ever before. And then I laid there for days. The hunger was overwhelming, but I could not really move. I ate grass, I drank the morning dew from it. But my legs, after having slept for hours after falling into the river, my arms even, only slowly regained their power. Eventually I stood up. I returned to my wife.
The townsguard was shocked to see me. I don't know why. I still don't know why. They said it was my face. But I looked into a mirror later, days later, and there was nothing. They also confirmed that it was gone. They refused to talk about it.
We reconciled, we lost, as I said earlier, once more everything. Near the end of the war soldiers fell into our town. I had to watch as... I'm sorry, I can't talk about it. I lost my wife that day, but after seeing what happened to her for hours, I felt it was for the better. Nevertheless I cried. I cried again. I cried for hours, if not days.
I don't really remember much of what happened afterwards. I opened a shop somewhere again. I was respected quickly again. But one day I disappeared. People thought I had died. But I ran away. I was still young. I was still beautiful.
I moved every few years, so people would not suspect anything. For quite some years I was in France. I named myself after my wife Germaine, taking the name of Comte de St. Germain. But I disappeared eventually. They never saw me eating anything, as I said I need special food. But in reality I had given up eating entirely. I remained young. I remained beautiful.
Please forgive me that I can not elaborate further at the moment. I would surely love to tell you what happened later. But as you see me writing here, you can be sure to receive the rest of my story. I have decided to break the curse at its 400th anniversary. I have seen empires rise and fall, I have seen my share of cruelty. But now, with the internet, with seeing the real horrors that humanity influcted, I believe I have seen enough. If I could go back in time, I would carry out all the failed attempts to change history. But I can't. I can only break this curse. Having lost everything once has made me someone looking for the ultimate truths. Have I found them?
Recently I stumbled upon what I had written many years ago. Maybe if all knowledge of the world was available, I would know it all.
I did not find the truth. I believe there is only one way to find it. Next year, at the 400th anniversary of the curse, I will know.
I hope it, at least. I really hope. | 2019-06-25T12:08:45 | 2019-06-25T12:08:02 | 126 | 19 |
[WP] You’ve traveled a great distance to finally court the princess. Many others have tried and failed. Why? At the end of a week with her, you must duel her to the death. She is the greatest sword fighter in the land, so your only hope is to convince her to call off the fight. | The banners were raised and the trumpets rang out for all the townsfolk to hear: A courting duel would commence this day. I sat in my tent, my squires busying themselves worriedly around me, listening to the bustle outside, as spectators filled the royal jousting yard. The air was positively full of bubbling energy, bursting with possibility and wonder.
My squires, on the other hand, somehow didn't get the same vibe. They helped me don my armor miserably, and a couple of them seemed on the verge of tears already.
"Don't worry, Kimpkins," I said to one of the younger, more fretful of them. "I'm not worried, why are all of you?" I slid my arms up and through the breastplate, as my longest companion, Squire Marjorie, tightened it into place with a bored sigh.
After a morning preparing, calming the nerves of squires who were certain I was walking into my death, I tossed my hair over my shoulders, took my helmet from Marjorie, and strode out onto the field to meet my foe.
Princess Ellarin was beautiful, black-haired and lithe, and also the biggest bitch I'd ever met. In our week together, she was snide, sarcastic, and glib, and I was instantly smitten. Now, bitchiness is not a one-note flavor, and while it takes a refined pallet to appreciate all the nuance and richness, those who deride it altogether miss out on a symphony of personality flavor.
See, the fact was, Princess Ellarin was a lot of things. She was witty, headstrong, a poet, skilled soprano, fluent in Italian, Spanish, and German, not to mention a world-class archer and the finest swordswoman in the land. But one couldn't get around the fact that she was also, mostly, a big old bitch. But one just has to think about it for a second to see there's more than that.
After all, the law of the kingdom, written by witch's blood into stone tablets so they can't be overturned or broken, dictates that the princess shall only marry the suitor who bests her in deathly combat. Which means on one hand, that she has had to kill every suitor she didn't want to marry, which is very fraying on the nerves, but also that her future spouse would have to be someone who was capable of defeating her. Besting her in a trial of strength and skill, physically overpowering her, and on top of that, humiliating her in the process. For it would only be because of a better knight's mercy that she would live that day, and the knowledge of that imminent indignity would be enough to sour anyone's disposition.
As we faced each other on the battlefield, we removed our helmets, and I met her beautiful, vicious eyes one more time before the trial would commence.
"Princess Ellarin," I said warmly, the morning air lighting my words with positivity and joy.
Her stone-cold face turned up slightly, into a fair-set expression of begrudging approval. "Lady Peth," she said levelly, her words full of poison and tricks, "I almost hope I don't kill you this day."
I bow low at the compliment, which annoys her, to my delight. "My princess, fear not. I have it on good authority you can't kill me."
She snorted, and the crowd roared with excitement at the challenge. "What makes you so sure?"
It was then that I reached beneath my armor, and pulled out a talismen, a small token with a glowing red gemstone in the center, fixed on a golden chain and slung securely around my neck. She needed only lay eyes on it for a moment, when her face fell, and she let out a shocked gasp.
"The Amulet of Thu'Ra'Ra."
"Yes," I said, turning to the crowd to ham up the reveal. "I climbed Mount Bortunai, bested the Six Trials of Elmered, Slayed the Mighty Dragon, and claimed the amulet of legend." I turned back to Ellarin, and lowered my voice. "You know, the amulet of invincibility."
She narrowed her eyes, and her mouth cracked into a knowing smile. "I'm a better swordswoman than you," she reminded me, once again turning to the crowd to really rile them up. "Even with the amulet keeping you safe, you could never land a blow on me."
"I guess this is going to be a long fight then."
And a long fight it was. Ellarin more than lived up to her reputation, her skill and dexterity proving a powerful foe. And yet, not a cruel one. With the talisman keeping me alive, there was no reason for her to worry for me. She could let her full power and skill shine, planting what would be a dozen killing blows. We fought all day, the battle taking us all around the palace grounds, with a gaggle of townspeople looking on, desperate to see which would win out: the unkillable knight, or the undefeatable princess.
The poor folks are still waiting for an answer, I'm afraid. After three days and three nights of exhausting combat, the princess and I decided to call a time-out, and went to have some tea, before resuming for another two days, only to break again in order to re-set the ruined battleyard. See, the witch's blood dictates the battle must continue until a clear victor is determined, but Ellarin never wanted her love to be a matter of one winner and one loser. And I may not be the greatest swordswoman in the world, but what she has in strength, I matched her in wit (and the luck to buy a legendary immortality charm off a trader at the dock markets.)
Nowadays, the townsfolk are resigned to the stalemate, and since our wedding many assumed that we'd stop the trial. But witch's blood is a powerful magic. So every so often, she'll reach for a nearby spoon, and I'll pick up a pencil or a hairbrush, and we'll continue the sparring we've been bound to, comfortable in the knowledge that neither can defeat the other, neither at the other's mercy. And, as witch's blood always get's it's due, we know that one day we will reach our end as equals as well, and, after her reign has spanned decades, and our hair is long and grey, I'll remove the amulet, and we'll face each other once again, no armor, no tricks. Just two women, matched in mind and in heart, ready to each fall on her own sword. Refusing, in death and in life, to believe the myth that a woman's heart may be fought for and won. And on that day, the townsfolk will get their answer: that any battle fought in the name of love, if that love be endlessly strong and endlessly true, will surely end in a draw. | "What do you think you are doing?"
"Why setting up a chess board your highness. What does it look like?"
She honestly looked as confused as the murmuring crowd gathered around the arena. Everyone looked either confused or entertained, like I was some great fool.
"This is a duel to the death."
"Yes I know." as I continued setting up the pieces "But if you will allow me a moment I will explain."
"Is this another stupid 'this does not make sense as one of us will die and then there is no chance and will never be a chance for marriage' bullshit attempt? You know I've heard them before right?"
"Oh I'm sure you have. Mine is different though, I promise you. You are the greatest swordsperson in all the lands, my life is finished, it was not the gamble to be taken. If I take up the blade, I die, simple enough. So, why not give a dying man his last moments?"
"Very well, but it had best entertain the crowd."
"Alright then, I'll raise my voice to be heard. You are the greatest there is with a sword, none can dispute it, and by coming to court you, and by spending the whole week instead of fleeing into the night, I technically agreed to your terms. The thing is, you can change the terms. That is also allowed. You see, I'm decent with a blade but my real strength resides in my tactical and strategic skills."
"What?"
"I'm getting there. Give me but a few more moments please."
"Fine, but lets hear it."
"Yes my love. You enjoyed the Muden wine I brought. best in the shield lands. You love the Mesiran silk shirt I brought you, I can see it peeking out the edges of your armor. And the way your eyes lit up when I gave you the Binsadan wind steed. I had hoped he would warm your heart."
"I've received many gifts."
"Yes but, I saved the greatest for today."
"Oh and what is that?"
"Safety, prosperity and adventure. For you and the people you love."
"What do you mean?"
"You are the princess but cannot inherit. You have 3 older siblings and 2 of them are male to boot. But you love your kingdom and the people. You would die for them which is why you set up this duel at the end of a week for any challenger." I smile as I look from her to her father, a messenger whispering in his ear and a worried look crossing his face. "AND I SEE MY LORD, MY HOPE TO BE FATHER-IN-LAW THAT MY OTHER 'GIFT' IS IN SIGHT." She nervously glanced at her father then back to me as some of his lordships knights and champions began to leave the arena.
"You see, how could I have brought such gifts together from such far distant realms?"
"You're a guilder's son. With no actual noble title to your name."
"Very true, though I do have a name, even a last name some know and respect, Vragsson." She looked confused, damn it. "You see, my mother is the Caeleight, ruler and leader of the guilders of Caelcorwynn. My father, her husband, is Rudi Vragsson, the lord of Baerghos." That registered and set her back a step.
"A Vragsson! Then you're"
"A SON OF THE HORDE? Yes. My parents third child but do do me the courtesy of letting me finish now please. I am a son of the Horde, the greatest mercantile and mercenary alliance ever known. Cemented with the marriage of my parents. Your kingdom elevates those with skills like yours because you and your neighbors are constantly on the defensive against villainous hordes from out of the mountains to the East and West as well as from the wastelands beyond the Eastern mountains as well as to the North of them. Your people fight to survive as do most of the neighboring realms."
"Yes so, get to your point."
"Yes my lady. Your people need aid, as do your neighbors. So I present you with options as my final gift. First, sheath your sword, give me a kiss and unite our peoples and interests. Second, order me to leave, to get out and never return. I'll return to the port, board my ship and go meet the fleet that has been spotted, commanded by my sister by the way, and we shall leave, never to return. Third, sit and duel me upon the chess board, my strength. Win and I shall leave loose and we shall marry and again, unite our people and interests."
"And if I decline all of those?"
"Then the fourth option, we duel with blades and you kill me. I will then be unable to meet my sister and you should be ready for battle. Most likely she has at least 1,000 Goblin cannon fodder under her command along with several hundred Orcs and Gnolls. those are just extras though. Her main force would be about 1600 veteran mercenary infantry that includes elite housecarls, berserkers, pikemen and "standard" type grunts. She should have 600 to 800 horse and knights but she will have to establish a beach head before being able to unload their horses so if she assaults straight into the docks they will probably join the infantry in the initial assault. Add to that her usual 600 to 1,000 archers and I think you will have your hands quite full. I mean it is a minor force of maybe 4 to 6 thousand but the core is experienced and hardened. It should be a good challenge. Of course that is as long as my brother is still butchering Goblins in Talinie. If his contract is over he will have joined her just to see if I died and if so that would be another 5 to 8 thousand troops but half his force were new recruits so not so much of a threat."
"Why would you do this?" I honestly can't tell if she is curious, impressed or disgusted behind her helmet. Her voice gives me no clue. Not good.
"Because you are amazing. You are beautiful, and talented in so many ways other than the sword. You have a warm heart that leaves me in disbelief you would even allow such a bloody ritual to take place for your hand. You also love your people so much it leaves me in amazement of your qualities of being a noble without taking on the "noble indifference" I have seen so often."
"But how could you get your family to go along?"
"Mother sees the market possibility of a new trading center in a kingdom in the middle of a new region. Father sees the contract possibilities of so many kingdoms in need of military aid. I'm a strategist. I convinced them the gamble was worth the possible long term pay off."
"That covers the safety and prosperity. What about the adventure you mentioned as part of the final gift?" I smiled, now I knew there was a possibility.
"You would be my wife. You would be family. If you wished it I could stay here with you and open a new mercenaries training hall or, we could start a new mob of the Horde. I take care of strategy while you handle the battles. We can stay right here or take the battles to your enemies. Why we could marry then lead my sister's force against the barbarians of Rzhlev before they can raid you next month during the harvest. We can burn their ports and shipyards. Loot their settlements and split the bounty between us. Well between "us" and my sister anyway."
"But if you die here today your siblings attack?"
"Yes. So it is best for your people to kiss me, duel me at chess or banish me. Especially as it is my sister. She is not known for...gentilities."
As she slid her helmet off I could see the thought, confliction and stress all washing over her face. She seemed to sit opposite me without thought or planning. Her mind raced as I could see her calculating everything that had just been laid before her. Her father, no, the entire assembled crowd were growing more and more nervous by the moment. Especially as she absent mindedly fingered her sword hilt for a moment. She finally turned to look at me again.
"I want white, you take black."
"As you wish my love." | 2020-09-20T22:50:37 | 2020-09-20T22:50:04 | 33 | 24 |
[WP] After death, you find out that you can choose how and when to be reincarnated. Initially eager to be a futuristic human, you soon realize that every (more experienced) soul ahead of you in line is choosing to be a "worm" in the year 121 million BCE. | "Juramaia, man", the hazy figure in front of me in the queue said.
"It's this little thing, kind of a primordial shrew or something. Split off from the marsupials, closed up the pouch and grew a placenta instead. Size of your thumb. Doesn't look like anything much.
We don't know if it was something they ate, maybe some kind of herb too weird to ever evolve again, or maybe it was just because Juramaia got stuck with nature's first draft of the liver and kidneys. Whatever. But there was something in their urine, some molecule that never was before and never was again.
And these little worms man, most primitive nervous system you can imagine. Just one big nerve really, not even a brain. Permeable skin like a frog. Orange blood.
And when a Juramaia pisses on one of those worms that worm gets as high as fuck. Like, indescribably high. That molecule just zips right into them and lights them up like no other being in the universe ever got lit up.
You can go see the universe all over, from the bang to the heat death, if that's what you think you want. We've all been there. We've seen it all, we've done it all. There're dudes in this queue who are billions of billions of billions of years old. That's what eternity is.
And none of us ever found nothing to beat being that worm. We're all going around again. Got nothing better to do, you know? The waiting's the hard part, in the queue, having a brain again, knowing you got to wait before you can go back to being the worm".
He stepped forward one pace, said "121 million BCE worm" and vanished.
And I stood at the head of the queue. | Wrong Lever
As I watched the others transcend to that primordial hell, I began to reconsider. What did they know that I didn't? As I took each small, eternal step towards the dock, I decided -jist this once - I would follow the crowd; after all, how long could a worms life be? When my time came I entered the transpiritual reactor and pulled the lever, engulfed in the fires of heaven.
The ether encompassed me, white (theres no word for its actual brilliance) with a series of varying stars changing locations as a countdown. Decompression from the corporeal. After an eternal instant I was transposed back to the waiting room. From everywhere a soothing voice announced "welcome to Receiving dock 5/j(8b¡^4)▪︎8, when ready please proceed to the rotunda"
I sat there shuddering, shivering, holding myself. I was astounded no human had found a trace of it in the fossil record. The sheer madness of those monstrosities. The things that threatened them. Those eyes. Those endless mouths!
No one had told me beforehand that we were going into battle.
No one told me how truly depraved Enkidu (no... Sakloss. No.... Jeh.... the thought evaporated) could truly be. The humans had such limited comprehension, such a narrow understanding of their potential unrealization. Of who their true allies were.
"Projection". Thats the word one of the humans had used. The bad ones rely on projection.
The memories played through: the aggregate titans. The tactical strategies. The battles. Then then cold, the COLD! Of space itself swallowing the sun. Then the memory of warmth, of light... where was I? A petri dish! Thats right... pulled from a core sample. I made headlines, I think. Before some buffoon melted me in acid. Oh those poor fools, I hope they didn't dig too far.
I was still sorting through the thoughts and timelines, reconciling millions of years, when I felt a presence by my side. I looked at them, and they at me. They could see from the look in my Eye that something was terribly wrong.
"Oh," they sighed "you... you went THERE?" They embraced me and it was warm, engulfing, and my fear and terror, those remnants of biology, drifted away. Looking at me again they said "im sorry child. We try to ensure that level 4 and above only go there, for reasons you no doubt now understand . Sometimes though, a brave soul falls through the cracks."
They took my hand and led me back to a reactor. "What you need is a long rest. No activity, no excitement. Hrm..." they cycled through options, before showing me one they thought was best "Here! Perfect. Standard stellar cycle with 4 BARREN worlds (you've seen your share of carnage after all!)," They giggled darkly "with a termination by a passing Stage 6 singularity. Yes, just the rest you need. And try to remember to accrete plenty of H2O! Now, make your preparations and we will send you off."
I did as told, smiling and thanking them. They caressed me gently, "my pleasure. Sweet Dreams, love". They pulled the lever, and the fires of heaven took me. | 2021-02-06T01:50:11 | 2021-02-06T01:45:16 | 4,249 | 80 |
[WP] After death, you find out that you can choose how and when to be reincarnated. Initially eager to be a futuristic human, you soon realize that every (more experienced) soul ahead of you in line is choosing to be a "worm" in the year 121 million BCE. | "We don't forget. That's the problem, you see?"
The man? Woman? Thing? next to me seemed to smile, but even that was not clear. It was more a feeling building up inside me, the same feeling I might have had, had someone smiled warmly at me. Words felt like they had formed briefly before, a quick memory of something that had just happened.
"So you do one or two or ninethousand of those reincarnations. Into all eternity. Some are fun, I once met a guy who was a famous ruler or something. But most aren't. Most are messy, dirty, violent. No matter the century, the day, even the hour, you'll have a higher chance of coming back to a life as someone or something experiencing pain than a ruler."
It began to make sense. I remembered everything from my past life. The one I had had, my first, from the looks of this. My youth, that first kiss, many things I'd forgotten in life, they all were there, clear as day. Six candles on the altar when my mother died. Nine people in the first row during the baptism of my second child, the one that died of cancer nineteen years later. Nineteen years, six months, twelve days, four hours, nine minutes and sixteen seconds later. I remembered everything. In absolute clarity. And it hit me as if it had just happened.
I felt waves of profound sadness wash over me. I did not cry, and I wasn't sure if I could. But I felt that the person next to me felt my emotions as well.
"See, that's the thing. You'll experience all this. Every time you're here. Only way to forget is to reincarnate, to seek out a new life. But, of course, you'll form new memories plus those you had before. And when you come back, your stack grows. Some go positively crazy in here, seek out random places, all to add some happy to the sad. It rarely works. And it will make you sadder and sadder."
"What can I do?" I tried to speak, but it didn't work. Yet, for some reason he knew what I'd asked.
"Go worm. Seriously. There's one 121 million BCE that has an amazing lifespan and basically just sits there. It has no frontal cortex, so it forms few memories and those are mostly positive like eating and a warm summer day. You don't have much of a choice what you get reincarnated as, but it has to be somewhere on your original lineage. Something with a soul or the beginning of one. Sorry, oak tree is unfortunately out. Most animals, too, if they split off the human lineage before souls were introduced. That's all of them, sadly, the ones that went extinct before didn't have that great of a life, either. So, worm. Last happy soul bearing thing."
"When do I have to decide?"
"There is no time here, so you can't take all the time you need. But whenever you're ready, you'll go. I don't know how this works, but..."
"So, worm?"
"Sure, you have infinite tries, give it a shot."
I thought about it. Decided to try it.
The "world" went black. A strange feeling.
And then white again. I was back, just like that. I still remembered my daughter's death. My mother's funeral. But there was something else. A warm ray of sun one day that was just right, not too hot to burn me and not too cold to immobilize me. And more glycosides in the water that made me feel ready to bud off and become two. Moments ago, it had felt like the deepest pit of sadness and pain. It still did, only a little less.
Worm it was. At least until the simple happiness of a ray of sunshine drowned out the deep sadness of burying your own child. | Man, this line is dragging out. Can't people just stop dying so much for a little while until I get my turn. Oh, that guy's talking weird. Maybe he's not just cosplaying as an roman soldier. Is that woman from the paleolithic period? Oh god, is the wait that long?
Wait no, the roman is in front of her. I think there's just people from all across time here. "There's no time in eternity", I guess.
I wonder if there's anyone from the future here...
Maybe that thing there is from the future. It doesn't look like any animal I've ever seen. Haven't seen that many though, maybe that's actually what zebras look like. If platypuses aren't actually blue, then anything I've ever seen in cartoon animals could be a lie.
Everyone looks so hazy... Am I still drunk? I kind of thought that blood-alcohol-level wouldn't carry over between body and soul. At the same time, I also thought souls would just look like floating blue flames or weird blobs or something. Maybe they retain their old shape for a while, but like they start to lose it over time? That would explain why everyone far ahead looks so weird.
Common, hurry up... How long does it take to think of what you want to be? You've had way more than enough time to think about it in the line. Just pick anything, jeez. I want to go back already! Back, but in the future this time. Something like 150 years should be enough for some cool stuff, right? Global warming should be sorted out by then at least.
Finally the line moved, dear god. Now let's wait for another year or two until... Wait it's moving again. Ok, apparently some people don't wait until the last second before thinking what to order, thank god. If only everyon- Oh it moved again, again. Good to see people finally got their shit together. Maybe I'll get to the end in less than a millennium even.
Wow, this really went from cement-speed to bullet-train-speed just when I started to complain about it. It's nice to be able to see what the end of the line looks like. I really was starting to think there wasn't one, and this was just some fucked-up psychological trick to hide that we are in purgatory. Looks like there's a screen there to pick the creature and time. A bit more modern that I expected, though I guess they can see any time that ever happens here. Wait, shouldn't it be more futuristic then? You would think they could have a massive 3D hologram or something. Maybe that kind of technology never gets invented? Oh fuck, is there no future-tech in the future?
...Did that guy just choose to be a worm? And in like a billion years before humans? There someone for everything, I guess.
Another pre-historical worm? Did they choose what they were going to become together in the line? "Let's crawl on dirt after it rains together". Some people have really weird tastes.
That one choose to be a worm too?! And at the exact same year? Ok, what the hell is this all about? Do they know something I don't?
Ok, that one already looks like a worm. Let's see what they pick... Prehistoric worm. Of course. Who would have known that being a worm is so great that souls go for seconds after they die.
I'm starting to think there's something going on here, for real. There really has to be something here I don't know about. Maybe they're all in on some kind of invertebrate cult 'Worm Pact'. Or maybe they have all seen the future before.
Maybe they have seen all of history, they have compared all possible reincarnation choices, and they landed on... Ancient worm. That sounds insane. Is it insane? Do I know if it insane? I'm new at this, I have never been anything else other than a human, and I wasn't that great at that either. Worms probably don't have to worry about not accidentally pissing on an electric wire. That is an improvement.
Huh, this really moved along fast. Just two more souls and it's my turn. Yep, another worm. Are all these people thinking the same as me? Are they all picking worm because the people ahead of them picked it? I don't want to just pick worm just out of group pressure. I want to live in the future. Right?
Worm again. And I'm up. What do I do? I want to live in the future, but I'm not so sure now that it is going to be like in the movies at all. I mean to be honest, I'm not 100% confident that humans are going to have global warming sorted 150 years in the future. Or ever for that matter.
Aw crap. I'm the slow-thinking guy delaying the queue now. I have became that what I always hated most. Ok make a decision now. Now. Now.
Ok, I'll just count to three and say what I want to choose outloud, then pick that.
1...
2...
3...
WORM!
...
I'm dead again already? Are you serious? I'm at the back of the line again! The line's just worms all the way to the horizon now, and oh there's another worm behind me now, and another, and another.
I didn't even get to experience being a worm for long enough to see if it is worth it or not!
Maybe if I pick worm again I can live a bit longer this time and find out... | 2021-02-06T04:20:08 | 2021-02-06T03:35:52 | 249 | 31 |
[WP] "No Man can kill me!" the demon jeers, taking in the carnage it has caused. "But I am no man," you proclaim, ripping away your helmet to reveal your feminine features. You strike, your blade bouncing harmlessly off the demon's hide. "Did you... did you really think that's what I meant?" | "No man can kill me!"
"But I am no man!" Shining steel fell away to reveal flaxen locks framing a smooth chin and delicate nose. "You gaze upon a woman! Eo-HaA!"
Leaving the dramatic geneology monologue to be finished over the foe's corpse, a bloody sword in a slender-fingered hand flashed up, inerrantly seeking the gap in the demon's visor.
Where it bounced off harmlessly.
"Did...did you really think that's what I meant?"
"Oh no, darling, not at all. I just wanted you to be paying attention to me."
A split second later, something slammed into the back of the fiend's knees. As he fell, the demon felt matted fur behind his calves, before feeling his buttocks on stone. From this new supine position, he had an excellent view of the paws, not hands, that seized upon his helmet. The fangs that sought to gnaw his nose from his face. And the fact that other sets of paws and fangs were taking their pick of his limbs.
"And not my attack dogs."
She turned her head and released a shrill whistle. The beast on his face pulled away, and the demon allowed himself to believe that this human woman would do what their kind is so known for, showing soft hearted mercy. This idea fled quickly, though, as his vision filled with a storm of feathers in the space recently vacated by fur.
"And if that didn't work, I also had falcons."
Reflexively, the demon's eyes widened in horror.
A moment later, both falcons were savoring their moist, tender spoils of a successful hunt, followed moments later by the hounds claiming their own meal. | *It was that same look of arrogance I had seen a hundred times before; that foolish certainty only a man was capable of. And demons, as you know, they represent the worst of all men.*
I strode down the stony path towards that fabled summoning ground. But, I was too late. The poor souls that had brought the beast into this world were already mutilated and feasted upon. When will they learn, I thought. You can never trust a demon. Least of all, one hungry after the bleak solitude of the nether realm.
Two glowing red eyes stared as I approached, at once puzzled and disdainful. The demon's voice was deep, and eloquent: "I suppose they sent you to kill me, did they?" his jagged teeth showing under the smugness of his smile.
This was the third bounty of the day, and I wasn't in the mood for the usual pontification. Demons relish the sound of their own voice. It made watching them die that much more satisfying.
"Stupid child. Don't you realise, no *man* can kill me."
"But I am no man," I answered, as I launched up the steps and removed my helmet, revealing a cascade of long red hair. I unsheathed my sword. The demon looked back at me, evidently speechless.
Eventually, he said: "Well begging your pardon, m'lady. I had no idea you were...so beautiful."
I was taken aback, and so took a moment to calculate the next move. Was this genuine? I studied close the looming countenance before me: the rippling musculature of a seasoned warrior, the smoothness of dark-red skin; the chiseled features now crestfallen in shame; the square, masculine jawline beneath sorrowful eyes and the curled horns of a demonic king.
He saw the curiosity on my face, and seized the moment to approach. "Do not worry, m'lady -- I intend you no harm.'
I could feel his hot breath on my face. Powerless to move, hypnotised trance-like in his gaze. He reached out a clawed and vascular hand, and, ever so gently, guided the hair from my face. He was tall, so very tall, so much more powerful up close. I knew I was witness to the most magnificent of all specimens. I couldn't move, and I did not want to.
With his other hand he took my own. And, as he slowly guided it towards himself, to that which I was suddenly begging for with my very soul, he whispered, "*The things I will do to you*."
Suddenly intoxicated with excitement, the soup that I'd downed at the inn only a half hour before rippled through my stomach, and I couldn't stop myself from ripping out a massive, earth-shattering fart. He stepped back in amazement.
Too embarrassed to speak, the uncertainty of the moment palpable, I did the only thing I knew how: I thrust my sword deep into his muscular chest, standing stoic as he stumbled backwards.
As he drew his last breathe, all I could say was, "I am sorry."
​
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Thanks for reading!
r/nikomachus | 2021-03-30T17:43:22 | 2021-03-30T17:21:48 | 190 | 20 |
[WP] You are an ethical necromancer. All your minions were raised voluntarily, under fair contracts. But some people can't see a spooky castle in the woods staffed by undead without breaking in and trying to kill you. | "Sir, there's another band of heroes trying to get in."
"Thank you Captain."
I stretched, letting out a groan before straightening my robes. My staff floated to my hand, the black flame growing at my touch. I left the latest batch of preservation fluid to mix, whilst I dealt with the latest set of do-gooders.
Captain Ulgreve led the way to the front gate. His armour glowed with the many enchantments I had laid upon it. It would do no good for my oldest friend to be slain easily, so I had seen to it that he wouldn't be. We passed a few servants, who stepped aside with practiced ease.
Situations like this were relatively common. No matter how many times I sent them away, more heroes would come. I couldn't really blame them though. My castle was quite spooky looking. It was in a fantastic state for its age though, much better then when I had found it.
I pulled back my focus. It was all to easy for me to get distracted. We quickly made our way to the outer wall. A group of guards stood ready whilst Ergota, my raised giant, braced the gates themselves. The wood rattled at the heroes attempts to get in, and I could hear muffled talking from the other side. It wasn't clear enough to hear what they were saying, so I took the time to address my guards.
"Thank you everyone for being ready. Ergota, are you having difficulty?"
She laughed.
"No, they aren't that strong."
"Glad to hear it. How's little Jela doing?"
"She's growing up so fast. She went on her first hunt last week."
I clapped my hands, grinning.
"How exciting! Did she succeed?"
Ergota pointed at a tooth on her belt.
"She brought down a bear. I'm very proud."
"She is definitely her mother's daughter. Harris, Plath, Bert, how about you? Are your families doing well?"
They all gave me little updates. I smiled at each one, before returning back to the matter at hand.
"Right, they aren't going to go away are they? Let them through, we can deal with their misguided intentions."
Ergota stepped back, placing her hand on the oversized warhammer she favorued. The gates heaved open, and the three heroes stood before us. One was dressed in a hodgepodge set of armour, that looked to have been scavenged from multiple battles. The second held an ordinary bow, and looked to barely be called an adult. The third was a slight fellow, holding twin daggers.
They looked a little shocked at the sudden ease up of pressure. As they faced me and my guards, they paled. I could understand this too. All of us had greyish skin, pulled tight against the bone. Our eyes shone with the same sickly green flames. I looked the most alive, probably because I hadn't actually died, but rather painlessly transitioned to the point between life and death.
Armour boy spluttered for a moment, before making actual words.
"You! You're the evil necromancer!"
I almost laughed at the cheesy line. Once I found myself insulted to be called that. Now I just found it amusing. Bow girl followed it up.
"Your vile schemes are at an end."
Yup, that was a standard shout. Dagger bloke shook his head, mouthing something as he slowly began to back up. I assumed it was an insult.
"First off, what vile schemes do you think I'm running? Why do you think me evil?"
Armour boy shouted back.
"You must be wanting to control this country! How else can the common folk like you so much?! And you force the dead to do your bidding!"
I looked at the guards around me.
"Have I ever forced you to do anything?"
They shook their heads, but Harris piped up.
"Hold on, you did make me wear a tutu for a day!"
I snorted.
"Only because you lost a bet." I turned back to the group. "You see? And to answer your question, it's because I employ those who have died through no fault of their own. They get to work to help their families, and their families get more time to spent with them."
The heroes looked at each other. Armour boy and Bow girl had a look of confusion. Dagger bloke just looked annoyed. He finally spoke at a normal volume.
"I told you! But no, you didn't listen to me. Idiots." He nodded to me, "My apologies. I told them that you weren't evil, but they don't listen to me. With your permission, we will leave."
I gave him a smile.
"Thank you. By all means, go ahead."
Ergota closed the gates. I turned to head back inside. Hopefully the fluid would be ready for the next step by now. | Lightning cracks across a dark and cloudy sky, illuminating the spires of the ancient, ivy-covered castle. As the rain begins to fall softly, a group of hooded figures walks along a forest path that leads toward mangled iron gates.
The band enters the castle grounds and reaches the overhang that protects the main entrance, flinging back their cloaks to reveal four well-armed adventurers. A massive Human with fiery red hair wears nothing across his back but a battleaxe, while an otherworldly Elf wields a bow that shines with bright white light. Magical energy dances across the small fingers of a Gnome and a well-dressed Tiefling smiles with his hand resting on the lute at his side.
The only one who’s face bears any sense of joviality, the Tiefling is the first to speak. With a smirk he scoffs, “I do have to say, these evil wizards certainly have a flair for the dramatic in choosing their lairs.” The Human’s face breaks with a wry smile for a moment before straightening again and turning back. “Keep sharp, stay together. We’ll kill this bastard and clear the castle of anythin’ valuable, don’t think anybody’s comin’ back for it anytime soon.” The Gnome nods in agreement and approaches the main entrance. He flicks his wrist and a clicking sound is heard, the door swinging open softly. The Elf looks to the others before slipping into the shadows to scout ahead, followed shortly after by the others.
As they make their way forward into a large foyer, three shambling forms begin approaching from the darkness. As they near the light cast by the Elf’s bow their ghastly faces are revealed, rotting flesh sloughing from their cheeks, their eyes glowing with a strange green energy. In a flash the adventurers are upon them: the Human’s axe biting through undead flesh, the Elf’s arrow piercing between partially exposed ribs, the Gnome releasing a burning blast of energy. The whole battle is over in seconds as the undead fall.
The party continues into the castle, slaughtering any undead they can find. After another thirty or so have been felled, the Human asks aloud to no one in particular, “Zombies, why do it always have to be zombies?” It’s the Elf’s turn to laugh, and they respond in a lilting voice, “Necromancy is a dark art, but not a terribly complicated one. The spells and incantations to raise the dead can be found in many places, this is one of the reasons why the magic is so dangerous and intolerable.” The Elf seems to notice something ahead, “Hold! Something stirs in the darkness.” The party quickly eases into their fighting stances and draws their weapons as footsteps can now be heard approaching.
The person that comes down the hall is not a zombie, but another man, clad in a red robe covering simple black clothes. He carries a staff and a small flower, and speaks aloud, “Welcome to my home. I’m sorry that I could not greet you personally upon your arrival for I was indisposed. However, after seeing how you greeted my friends perhaps it is for the best.” The hardened adventurers waste no time listening to the ramblings of an obvious necromancer, leaping into action at the first opportunity.
The Human interrupts whatever the man was to say next with a swing from his axe. Just able to dodge out of the way the robed figure cries out, “No! You don’t...” but his voice is silenced and replaced with a gurgle of blood as an arrow thuds into his chest. The Gnome chants something in a loud voice and the stone of the castle wall morphs into a large hand, reaching out and wrapping around the necromancer. From behind the party the Tiefling plays a few chords on their lute, and a wave of energy washes of the other members seeming to bolster them. The Human swings again with his axe, this time finding purchase in the necromancer’s shoulder, a splash of blood spraying across their faces. The Gnome releases the stone hand and Necromancer falls to ground as the party gathers around him. Looking up at those who have killed him his eyes are filled with sadness, and as the light leaves them he chokes out with his last breath, “Please...leave...leave now...run...” as the flower falls from his hand.
As life fades from the figure the party looks to one another. The Tiefling says full of confidence, “I wonder what he meant? These guys are always so cryptic and weird, at least the pay should be good!” This seems to break the group’s battle focus, and as they calm they begin gathering valuables and preparing for the journey back to the nearby town.
Their pockets laden with the gold and jewels of the dilapidated castle, they start to head back to the foyer and the main entrance. The Elf turns to the party and looks uneasy, “Did you hear that?” No-one else seems to at first, but then the Tiefling notices it too. A scratching, a shambling. In the distance for now, but growing steadily closer. The Gnome and the Human pick it up and the Gnome turns and speaks four words, the first out of him this entire journey, “We must leave, now!”
As the sounds grow the adventurers begin to run, shapes starting to appear in the darkness behind them. They round a corner and find themselves facing a horde of zombies as far down the hallway as the can see. As they pause in shock the shapes behind them come into view, another pack of the undead. At that moment a multitude of voices speak as one as if from the air itself, “Murderers! You have killed the Master! We lived here in peace for decades, given a second chance at life by his mercy! You will pay, as will the rest of the living!” The zombies snarl this time as they lunge, much faster and clearly more aggressive than before. The adventurers disappear under the horde of risen bodies.
The sun breaks over the castle the next day, the storm from the night before cleared. A field of flowers is revealed stretching from the entrance of the castle and into the woods; flowers of the same kind that the necromancer clutched as he died.
The door to the castle opens.
A bare foot sporting only half of it’s flesh crushes one of the flowers as the scene fades to black. | 2021-03-31T11:08:25 | 2021-03-31T10:31:13 | 106 | 55 |
[WP] You see ghosts daily, always attached to people. Some are malevolent, others benevolent and some indifferent. Today, you are shocked to see a young man being followed by hundreds of ghosts, all wearing faces of anticipation, Curiosity gets the better of you. | Many had one, some had more. I had none, but this woman, a crore.
"Excuse me?" the woman asked with no small amount of hostility. "Is that supposed to be a joke?"
"No, not at all. I'm sorry," I said, backing into the intersection pole below its merciless red hand forcing this interaction to go on.
"Then why on Earth would you say 'a lot of ghosts following her' talking about me?" The woman looked tired but determined to have the answer I didn't dare give. "Do I even know you?"
"No. I was just singing a song to myself," I lie. "I really didn't mean to offend."
The light finally deemed the time arrived. I focused on the walking white figure till I was across the street, not looking back to see if I was believed. The woman herself began walking the other way and I caught unwilling sight of her parade again, ghosts behind her packed so close I couldn't tell if they numbered in the hundreds or the thousands. Arms reached out with stretched fingers as she walked forming a halo of fingers around her, almost touching but not quite.
In a little less than three years from then, I discovered what the ghosts following a person meant. When I had to catch myself with all the stories of my father to start with was not is, tagging on 'used to be's or 'back when's. He was here still, behind me, reaching. He was a constant presence in my life the last few years as I cared for him near every hour of the day and now he lingered just as close.
I once guessed the ghosts followed their killer but there were far too many for that. The woman with the sabaoth of followers wasn't a mass murderer after all. She was just a tired caregiver.
The ghosts follow who cared for them most in their final moments, reaching out like moths to that light of kindness. I wonder if that tired woman was a doctor or a nurse to have so many in her train. I wish I could see her again, apologize and thank her for all she's done.
Maybe I will. She does stand out, after all.
/r/surinical | The ghosts came down the mountain in silvered scores, following a boy who should have been old enough to know better. Even if he could see them he'd have felt their cold. The grass shriveled with the passage, morning dew turned to frost, turned to a sheet or ice. The world melted for miles behind them, as the dawn rose.
I dropped my bucket, milk spilling out to soak the ground, and I ran to get my master.
"Master Corrin, Master Corrin!" I yelled, sprinting through the shadowed streets and ivy clad byways of Renneaux, a town of some 800 souls living and 100 souls dead. "Master Corrin!"
"Stupid girl!" One woman shouted, leaning out her open window. She looked around, caught the unseasonal chill in the air and the fear in my voice, and slammed the window shut. I could still feel them approaching like a great, frozen wave.
When I found him, Master Corrin was still drunk. He lay across a sawhorse filthy and stinking of last night's wine, whispering knotty poems to his sunrise.
"Silvered scores of servants slip,
Into the lonesome town
And the air grows pale, and the living frail
Where dead man's hope abounds"
"Master Corrin! There are ghosts coming down from the mountain! Hundreds of them, thousands of them!"
"I know," he whispered.
I had not been prepared for "I know."
"Lost lands, lost loves, lost skies above,
On Aeleth's distant shores
The colonists came and Renneaux town was named
On the land that all life had abjured"
Master Corrin, the old, goatish drunkard who ruled our town, fell heavily to his hands and knees in the sawdust. I pulled him to his feet, brushing wood shavings from his long, gray beard, and he stilled me, taking my hands in his.
"Addie," he said, bleary eyed, still very drunk, "I had hoped this day would not come. Our forefathers should not have settled the lost continent."
The lost continent. Aeleth. The long, jutting spit of land that reached out from the unexplored reaches of the western oceans like a crones arthritic finger. The lands from which all humans had come, had retreated from. The lands my own grandfather had brought us back to.
Master Corrin grew quiet and solemn, and for a moment he looked almost sober if not for the bitter scent of the wine. "Addie, what did they look like?"
I told him. I told him of the unkempt hordes of silvered savages. Of the tattered buckskins and knotted hair. Of the golden torcs and spears tipped by sharpened stones. Of the nobles, so refined they seemed almost modern, who had refused to give up their estates when Aeleth fell.
And I told him of the boy leading them. Handsome, dark haired, emerald eyed, lips like an invitation to a curse. A boy I hadn't recognized in a town where I recognized them all.
Master Corrin was quiet a long time. Village ghosts swept into courtyard, their frightened warnings dying on their lips when they saw us.
"Master Corrin, what are we to do?" I asked, terrified even more by his silence than by the ghosts I'd seen.
"The lost ghosts of the continent, and the lost boy who leads them," he whispered. And then, sadly, he turned his eyes to me.
"Addie," Master Corrin said, "do you think you can make a boy fall in love?"
r/TurningtoWords | 2021-06-14T04:08:06 | 2021-06-14T03:48:18 | 284 | 64 |
[WP] You're rather annoyed that your history teacher gave you a D on your essay about Mesopotamia. Not just because you're sure she doesn't like you, but also because - as an ancient being trying to adapt to modern society - YOU WERE THERE. | “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” I told my teacher calmly, uncaring of the disruption I was causing in the classroom. “Was my essay badly written? Was there a problem with my citations? What exactly did I do wrong enough to warrant a D?”
Normally, I strove for politeness. But it was simply unacceptable for any educator to mark down work for having a different opinion - and, having triple checked every source I’d put down and backed up every assumption written, I knew it wasn’t an issue with the quality of the paper.
I had taken such pains to make sure I didn’t use any of my own knowledge. It was difficult to write purely as a student of the time and not as someone who had been born and raised in Mesopotamia - and I would be dammed if this ignorant and opinionated dog would cast such aspersions upon my work.
The teacher glared daggers at me. “You dismissed out of hand the translation of the Historian Lawrence and called Ishtar-Sin a chicken!”
I flipped neatly to the appendix and held up a photograph of a tablet. “As you can see here, we have the poem of Ishtar-Sin. The circled cuneiform is what Historian Lawrence translated as “falcon”. However, if you refer to my next page...” I quickly flipped the page over “you can see that this is a recipe, rescued from the museum of Iraq and currently on display in the Giza Museum until it can be returned. Here you can see that the same cuneiform is used. Although chicken was not as ubiquitous as it is in modern meals, I assure you it was far more common than eating falcons.
“Furthermore, from Lawrence‘s own translation you can see that he wrote of ‘the falcon’s strut’ - when has one ever spoken of a falcon strutting? A falcon soars, it circles, it glides and it dives. Its domain is the sky. It is the rooster who boastfully struts upon the ground.
“Additionally, the poem references the battle of Nineveh - which was a crushing defeat for Ishtar-sin (I have included a reference here to the work of Abdelrahman Kanoo, a historian operating in Syria) and, with all these factors considered, I do not believe I am wrong to say that this poem, rather than lauding Ishtar-sin, was a piece that was written to mercilessly mock a man who was pampered from birth and fancied himself a general but ran from his first battle and showed no repentance for his incompetence.”
I wondered, for a moment, if the teacher was about to burst a blood vessel.
“How dare you belittle the work of acknowledged historians?” came the frothing reply. “How unbelievably arrogant to think you know better!”
I smiled at that. “History is a pack of lies about events that never happened told by people who weren’t there.” I quoted. “It’s literally the opening page of the textbook you assigned. You told us to question our sources. Their motivations. Their qualifications. Having done so - why am I being punished for following your instructions?”
The ignorant dog remained silent at that.
I couldn’t help but be satisfied.
After all, it reminded me greatly of the look on Ishtar-Sin’s face when he heard the poem I, the woman he had sworn to marry, wrote about him... | "A "D"?". I ask incredulously, catching Ms Evers' attention, the words gushing forward reflexively and without regard for any of these sheep beside me. "How is it that I, Josephus Son of Zthon, could possibly receive anything but the highest of praise. An explanation shalt be offered with haste"
"AD? Well, not yet. We are still in B.C. Slow your horses" she chuckled, insolently. The sheep join her in a chorus of laughter. They will be sheered some day.
"Maybe if you learned the difference you would see your performance improve Jospheus." Ms. Evers' attack continues, the laughter swells.
I must quietly gather internally to mount a response in accord to her barbs. These mortals require care most delicate. Ponder I must.
She turned her countenance elsewhere, doling papers to the rest of the column of sheep. Make haste Josephus Son of Zthon your pane to retort is lessening.
Foresooth, I have it....however the matriarch is on to the next column and the cacophony of laughter has abated. Alas my retort shalt be differed. I must shore up my defenses to gird for future attacks.
I watch as The Matriarch meets out the rest of the papers to the sheep. My neighbor in the column to mine right recieves her paper. There doesn't appear to be as many markings on her sheeth.
'Fire haired child.", I call out
"Fire haired child", she mustn't have heard me.
"Jo, I told you at least 12 times that I have name and it's not fire haired child." The devils spawn replied.
"Demon seed. Tell Josephus the marking the Matriarch placed on your work. Tell it true,"
Looking over her paper she doesn't even turn towards to me answer, "I'm not telling you anything until you call me by my name Jo."
Damned her. What is this soulless ones name...Alvin? Alvez, Aviary...definitely an A name...A verily. Thats it!
"Averily. Tell Josephus the marking the Matriarch placed on your work. Tell it true,"
"Oh God you are weird. My name is Avery not "A verily" but Uh yeah I got a B plus." The insufferable know it all blurts out in gleeful mockery.
How DARE SHE. For it is I who have seen, with mine own eyes, empires both built and then crumbled into chaff, to be blown away in the turbulent gales of time. It is I who have watched the world take shape in front of me. When Pompeii was a bustling city I was there to sell them their wares. For it is I who have lived in cities whose names have nary been uttered and has since washed from the circle of this world. When the first Atreyu crossed the plains of Northern Africa, i traced them by their footprints in the sand.
"Madame Evers. Verily I ask for your most solemn forgiveness!"
"Oh christ", Ms. Evers barely whispers. "What now Mr. Zthon?", she asks exasperadetly, this she shalt pay for. She is naught even 2 score but i was there when Abraham was offering Isa.....wait what did she call me? Mr. Zthon?
"Foresooth, my ears did hear that thou hath not learned of my surname. Either that or thou hath willingly ignored the multitude of requests to harken unto them. For before the grains of sands were innumerable, there I stood. For before the fullness of the heavens were spilled into the darkness of the night sky, there I was. For before the waters...."
The wench cuts in, "I'm going to have to stop you there, Mr. Zthon for, I have a class to teach, "verily." Turning to walk forward.
SHE MOCKS ME??!!! ME?
She must have forgotten, I will have to remind her of her place, "I AM HE THAT HATH UNDERSTOOD THE WORKINGS OF THE WORLD WHEN ISAAC NEWTON SUCKLED AT HIS MOTHER. IT IS I THAT UNLOCKED THE MYSTERIES OF THE DEEP. I WAS ON THE SHORES...."
"Shores of the water where this "Jesus" was baptized...yes yes we heard this before Mr. Zthon. Anyway class, now we are moving into ancient Greece....the Greeks at this time were a collection of city states...
"It's Mr. Son of Zthon." I say definatly, although some may say it sounded sheepish. Sheepish is the language this task master will listen to.
"What was that Josephus?", Ms. Evers responds in sheepish tones, although some may say it sounded annoyed.
"My surname is Son of Zthon."
The sheep begin to bleet with laughter again..... I hate being immortal. | 2021-07-18T02:33:51 | 2021-07-18T02:19:36 | 1,930 | 27 |
[WP] Aliens had been invited to their human coworker's wedding. They are both scared yet amazed by the human wedding traditions. "What are the weddings even like on your planets?" asked the concerned human. "For starters, we don't make our friends and siblings our temporary slaves..." said one. | "Slaves? What are you talking about?" Bill asked.
Claxotensious replied, "My empathic organ detects 12 humans who are here against their own wishes. Mostly male, ages 12-33."
"Oh that" said Bill, "That's just called an obligation. I know on planet Hyper Ball things are a little more cut and dry but the human experience is loaded with nuance."
"I think I'm seeing" Clax continued, "So being a slav- I mean obligite, is a human ritual?"
"Kind of" Bill clarified, " I mean, didn't you sense the same emotions when we went to the grocery store? Or sat in traffic?"
"Yes very much, no one wished to be in those circumstances" Clax said, "I only bring it up now because it surprises me anyone would want to miss your pairing ritual. Especially close family."
"It's expected" Bill said, "Here, do you see that guy with the peppered beard over there by the bar?"
"Yes"
"That's my uncle" Bill said "Do me a favor and find an overlap of our memories."
Clax closed his eyes and slowly nodded downward. "Yes I see. I see your birth anniversaries and a.. a.. very... pleasant piano recital."
"Thanks but I know the recital was awful." Bill said, "Now can you tell if he wants to be there?"
"He very much does not enjoy it" Clax confessed.
"Yeah my own empathic organ could tell that even when I was a kid." Bill said. "But is he among the 12 today who doesn't want to be here?"
"No" Said Clax, "In fact he is overcome with pride and is hoping you play the piano tonight."
Bill teared up "See? Us humans are kind of lazy and sometimes need to be dragged through the important stuff so we can appreciate it later."
"Oh" Clax said a little surprised, "I thought this was a lesson in your Stockholm Syndrome."
Bill thought blankly a moment, "Yeah, it's kind of that too." | The bride was glaring at the two of them again.
"Just go with it, Quas" said Qel resoundently.
Quas sighed and held out three of his long blue limbs.
The bride dumped the third bucket of flowers into his outstretched blue palms. Quas felt his legs buckle with the weight. Earth's gravity was much harsher than it was on Quilt. Quas lent two of his limbs in assist, and the two of them staggered off in the direction of the altar, while the bride looked on, shaking her head. When she thought they were far enough to be out of earshot, Quas heard her say,
"Why did we hire them again? This is a wedding, not a charity. What use are they gonna be?".
Her husband replied. "They have has so many limbs. I thought they'd be useful. Besides, nobody at the office invites them to anything".
"They're worse than Grandma. Where the hell Gran anyway. She should have hung up those chandeliers by now".
"Your uncle has the ladder. He's still pinning up the streamers".
The bride made a huffing noise and stormed off, her heels echoing on the hard wood floor.
The conversation was hushed: nothing but a whisper between the soon-to be. But Quas heard it without effort. While their ship had touched down months ago, it was Quiltan policy not to disclose the acuity of their hearing. Or their sense of smell.
They upended the flowers on at the base of the alter. It was the groom's wish to be married outdoors, in the fields. It was the brides to be married in the local church. This was their comprimise. A floor of flowers on which to stand. The groom had sent his parents out the day before to cut what seemed to amount to half the flowers in the small botanical gardens down the road. Their hands were still bleeding from the thorns, for they had not the budget for shearers. Not after the 10-foot alter, the 4-metre long streamers and all the other knick knacks they needed for their special day.
"I hate this planet", muttered Quas in their own bubbly-sounding language, so as not to upset the bride's sisters who were putting the final touches on the cake.
"It's just a night", said Qel soothingly. "Don't make a scene".
"They haven't given us meat yet."
"I don't think they do that here".
"It's been three hours since I last ate."
Qel, usually the calm one, flapped his limbs in exasperation. "I told you to eat those cows before we left", in exasperation.
"I was saving myself".
"Well, you'll just have to wait".
"What about one of them?" Quas beckoned his pointer limb to the groom's kin who where dragging the seats into place in front of the altar.
"You can't eat the humans."
"Why not? They smell good".
"It's against Quiltan code, that's why".
"But look how miserable they look. Death before enslavement. That's Quiltan code, Qel. Look it up".
"I don't think they're slaves, Quas. It's just their culture."
Quas let out a bubbly sigh, his limbs sinking to the floor. "But they smell so tasty".
"Yeah, well, we've got a nice barn of cows waiting for us back at the field."
"Cows don't smell as good as humans".
"No, but we'll have to make do". | 2021-08-20T04:43:14 | 2021-08-20T04:12:01 | 269 | 44 |
[WP]You possess an ability that seems relatively harmless, albeit useful, at first glance, yet on a deeper look is scarily powerful. Nothing can be taken from you against your will | Tom’s phone rang. The number was unknown and only a few people had access to it. If he did not know the caller, then it was a transferred request from his agent.
“Tom’s delivery service, this is Tom.”
The voice on the other end was grainy from the use of a filter. “You’re the freelance Ability User, right? We need you to deliver a suitcase from Tricell Laboratories.”
“Destination?”
“The Central Repository.”
Tom frowned. “Brightfield City? Isn’t that just north of here?”
The caller did not answer that question. “It’s imperative you do not let anyone else handle this package once you receive it.”
Tom rolled his eyes. *Always so dramatic.*
He set down his beer and tossed a couple of coins onto the bar. The bartender waved at him as he left the small pub.
Once he was out of earshot of civilians, he spoke again. “Sounds simple enough. I don’t suppose I can inquire about the contents. I’d rather not be transporting nuclear codes again. That job was more hassle than necessary.”
The caller was silent for a moment before replying. “It is the cure of the bioweapon being used in the East.”
That caused him to pause mid-step. “No shit. They actually did it? Guess I’ll have to be extra careful with this delivery, huh?”
“This is no joking matter. The lives of millions are at stake here. Are you willing to take the request, or do we have to search for a different courier?”
“Price?”
“Fifty million.”
Tom whistled. “All for a little delivery, huh? Looks like this is my lucky day. I’ll be at Tricell in ten minutes. Talk to your contact about transferring the money to my accounts.”
With that, he hung up and hopped on a motorcycle parked outside the bar. It was an old make, but still had the aerodynamics of the modern age. While the base model was not known for its speed, a few custom modifications put it on par with more modern models. He had not locked it – security was a nonissue these days. And with a quick rev of the engine, he sped off toward Tricell Laboratories.
“Look at that security.” A set of heavy gates outside the facility forced him to slow to a stop.
An armed guard stepped out from a small booth, one hand on the pistol at his side. Atop the walls nearby, Tom could see at least two snipers with their weapons trained on him as well.
“What’s your business?” The man was curt and ready to attack if necessary.
With all things considered, this level of security was reasonable. “Tom Davison. Here for the delivery.”
Cold eyes scrutinized him a moment longer. Tom tapped his bike impatiently. Then, the guard nodded before retreating into the booth. There was a brief bit of muffled conversation before the gate began to roll open.
The guard returned and pointed down the road. “First right to the loading dock. Get the package and leave. I’m sure you know this is of utmost importance.”
Tom only waved a hand. “Will do.”
The pickup was smooth. A nervous woman in a white coat met him at the loading dock. All the while, guards and cameras watched Tom’s every movement. He ignored it all in favor of securing the metal briefcase to the back of his bike.
“Uh. Will that be alright?” The researcher seemed worried. “That doesn’t look very secure.”
Instead of answering, Tom asked, “How tough is this case? It feels pretty heavy. Can it withstand bullets?”
The researcher nodded. “It can withstand heavy artillery. We need that vial to be undamaged. The world depends on it.”
“It’ll be fine then. It’s only a quick drive through the inner city to reach the Repository.” Tom tried to give the lady an encouraging smile. “Your bosses chose the right delivery service.”
She did not seem convinced, but Tom left before she could say another word. The gates of Tricell closed behind him and soon he was cruising down the highway toward the north end of the city. The job should have taken no more than two hours, depending on the traffic. But rocket-propelled grenades had a funny way of interrupting plans.
“Shit!”
The explosive hit the small overpass, sending cars and concrete crumbling below. Tom lost control of his bike and hit the jagged concrete with a crunch before gravity took hold. He barely had time to grab onto the handle of the suitcase before his face met the ground. Pain exploded in his body as several things inside him popped. His motorcycle lay in twisted scrap metal nearby. There were screams in the distance as people fled from the collapsed bridge. And through the haze of noise, there was the sound of ropes and orders.
“Hurry! Retrieve the package!”
Something tugged on his suitcase.
“Sir, I think he’s still alive! I can’t pull it out of his grip!”
“Finish him off and take it then!”
Tom grunted as several bullets pierced his skull and torso. And yet, the suitcase remained firmly in his hand.
“Sir there’s something weird – ”
Before he could continue, Tom pushed himself to his feet and swung the suitcase. A tinted helmet shattered with the force of the blow. The soldier fell back with a yelp, even as Tom moved closer. He reached down, grabbed the soldier’s pistol, and pushed the barrel through the faceplate.
“Sorry, you’re gonna have to try harder than that.” And he pulled the trigger.
(1/2) | "No."
"What did you say, asshole?"
Words have power.
Sometimes, they have power only in your head.
That is often enough, for your head is where all of the most important things happen.
Sometimes, if you are particularly lucky, words have power in *other* people's heads.
​
"I said *no*," I told the two superheroes.
My voice was calm and collected, despite the zipties on my wrists and the unpleasant tingle in my stomach.
Because my words held power *outside* of heads, too.
"You can't have my freedom."
​
The tall blonde hero laughed at that.
He was called Reaper - and if the rumors about him were even half-true, he was probably the deadliest super in the entire West Coast. You don't stay long in the superhero business unless you're the apex predator.
Most superheroes died, got arrested, or retired within months. About one in ten managed to survive the first year.
Reaper had been doing this for a *decade*.
"What are you going to do about it, klepto?" the man asked.
"Nothing, Reaper." I brought my hands from behind my back, rubbing my wrists, and saw Reaper's eyes widen. "All I'm saying is, you *can't have it*."
Reaper looked at my hands.
Then he looked at the other hero, a 17-year-old pipsqueak of a girl who wore glasses and, in true superhero fashion, reflective spandex.
In true superhero fashion, spandex did not suit her.
"You ziptied him, Foresight. Hands behind the lamppost. Right?"
"Yeah," she muttered, looking down at me. "Didn't even notice him breaking out until he did it. Looks like our kleptomaniac is an escape artist, too."
I shrugged and started getting up. "You can't have my-"
Reaper's fist rammed into my mouth, and the world flashed white.
"Stay down!" I heard him yell, the sound oddly warped by the pain. "Don't even try this shit!"
​
Reaper was renowned for his punches: he was strong, he was fast, and he knew *exactly* where to hit.
But the secret ingredient was probably in the metal-plated gloves of his suit.
Had I been a normal human, I'd probably be down for a good long while, moaning with pain until Reaper got sick of it and shot me with a tranq gun.
After a hit like that, even I struggled to gather my thoughts.
"You can't have..." I hissed through broken teeth, "my... health."
The pain disappeared, and I felt the teeth mend. My head was clear again.
By making my claim where he could hear me, I had *retrieved* what he took from me.
Retrieving things was my superpower, after all.
It's just that until a few weeks ago, I had no idea just how *many* different things I could retrieve.
​
"Don't try anything, Expropriator," Reaper scoffed, his boot prodding my side. He didn't seem to notice my flesh mending. "You're playing head games with us again."
"Retriever," I growled through clenched teeth.
"What?"
"Retriever. Expropriator is my old name, and *you can't have it.*"
"Whatever. Foresight, get Expllrgh-" Reaper paused, confused. "Erprogggh."
I looked up from the sidewalk. "Say my *real* name, Reaper. You'll feel better."
"John St-"
"You can't have *that* one."
"Strrbh. What the *fuck*?"
​
At that moment, Foresight's eyes widened and she stepped back. "Reaper, we have to kill him!"
"What?" Reaper said. "Why?"
"You can't have my life, either!" I blurted out.
What did she see in my future?
"Now!" Foresight yelled, clearly panicking. "KILL HIM! BEFORE-"
"*And* the knowledge of my plans!"
Foresight staggered, as if hit, and put her hand to her head.
"Null- I think. What was I saying?"
Yeah, that was the weak spot of precogs. The only thing that *truly* scared them.
Their powers weren't mere parasites like with the rest of us, but more like a *part* of the precog's mind.
So if you shut down their power, you were shutting down their mind too.
​
Reaper looked at her for a moment, then glared down at me.
"Ohh. Okay, I get it. You can expropriate *anything* now, not just things."
He reached for his stick, and it sprang a curved blade, a blade that traced bluish-violet light as it moved.
The blade that could cut through anything. It even split atoms.
The blade that he reserved for the worst offenders - and, if you believed the rumors, for anyone whom nobody would miss.
Reaper raised his scythe.
"I bet you can't retrieve anything once you're dead. Let's test it, shall we?"
​
I started to roll out of the way, but he was faster.
I heard the blade whistle, and the clothes parted at my chest.
But when I finished rolling away, I was still in one piece.
He couldn't take my life, and he couldn't even take my health. They were *mine*.
All he did was take my clothes' integrity.
I grinned, triumphant, and started getting up.
​
Then I saw Reaper take a swing at the lamppost.
My blood went cold, and I sprang forward from the half-crouch I was in, the severed shirt flaring out behind me as I jumped.
I could retrieve anything that was *taken* from me - but my power did not apply if I accidentally *lost* something.
And I was pretty sure that being crushed by a lamppost counted as *losing* my life.
​
I was almost fast enough.
I felt my bones crunch as fifty pounds of concrete landed on my shin.
This time, I couldn't help it. The pain was too great.
"Fucker!" I screamed. "Vandal! Murderer! *Wastrel!*"
The moment those words left my mouth, I realized how stupid I sounded.
But I wanted to hurt him, and plenty of heroes hated it when someone caught them breaking the law.
"Hah." Reaper, it seems, was not that sort of hero. "Your power doesn't extend to gravity, does it?"
Reaper admired his handiwork, then turned to the wall of the building looming above us.
"Aww, fuuuuck," I moaned, and the moan turned into a whimper as the pain in my shin started to really hit me.
Reaper sank his blade into the wall. | 2021-09-11T13:12:54 | 2021-09-11T12:05:24 | 442 | 318 |
[WP]You adopt a stray cat. The gifts it leaves on your bed are getting more concerning. | I blinked hard, rubbed my eyes, and blinked again. Nope, still there. But I tried again, shaking my head this time, as if that would change things. But no, still here. Jason Momoa was sprawled out on my bed, looking around in abject confusion.
I sighed, hard. 'Look what the cat dragged in,' I muttered. Jason stared at me. 'What?' he asked.
I shrugged. 'Umm, hi. Sorry. My cat is really enthusiastic.' I gestured vaguely at the small striped beast, camped out on my pillow, looking smug.
Jason eyed the cat warily. The cat looked at him for a moment unimpressed, and began to wash his face.
'Can I....' Jason began and struggled to sit up.
'I wouldn't,' I said. The cat put a paw on Jason and he immediately froze.
'How is he doing this?' Jason screeched.
I sighed again. 'I don't know. All I know is one day I wished I had some hot chocolate. I found hot chocolate packets on the bed, with the car purring over them. Cool, right? I asked out loud for a fuzzy pink sweater, and the car brought that too. Wrong size, but probably a hint that I should lose a few. And this time....' I trailed off.
'This time what?' Jason asked, still struggling under the cat's paw.
'The pool at the gym was closed last night. Code brown,' I explained. 'When I came home, I was on the phone and I said.... I said....'
Jason raised an eyebrow.
'I said this was a job for Aquaman.' | It's getting to the point I don't want to wake up. Yes, I know; giving presents is how cats show their love...or their superior ability to hunt. Honestly, either's possible.
And I want you to know, I *do* play with the cat. No, he's not my cat. A neighborhood stray, I think, or maybe he's just got a lot of homes. Point is, I feed him sometimes. And groom him sometimes. And let him sleep in my music room, but that's it!
I'm a professional harpist. Of *course* I have a music room. It's even soundproof, so I don't have neighbors lodging complaints against me at three in the morning while I'm trying a new descending scale. Anyway, the cat likes listening to me play. I thought that was all it was.
I'm not one of those people who demand that cats change their nature to live with humans. I know they're hunters. I'm not here because of the half a bird, or the rat, or the rabbit, or even the drone.
What are you talking about? I just *said* the drone's not important. None of them were. Look, I found their owners and sent the damn things back, okay?
At first I thought the cat was bringing me doll parts. I mean, that's the only explanation, right? Why else would there be a hand the size of my pinky nail? But--here's the thing--*dolls don't bleed*. And this--whatever--that the cat is bringing me parts from? They're *bloody*. *Bleeding.* They have *flesh*. It's not *normal*.
You think I'm kidding? Here! These are just from *this morning*! No, it's not a trick!
Ugh. *No*, they're not from a Halloween store. Trust me; they're real. What do you mean, how do I know? I know because I cook food! You know, handle *meat*? It is very easy to tell what is meat and what isn't, thank you not at all!
Well, no. No, these aren't what brought me here today. To be honest, I've been getting these for almost a month now, and I'm kind of used to it at this point. Hell, last week I tried to make a whole person with the tiny parts. Impossible, of course.
You know. Because there is no head...
Anyway. *This* is what I'm here for. Take a look at *this*. Huge, isn't it? Man, I thought I was having an asthma attack this morning, this thing is so heavy. But there it was, right on my chest, just like all the other...presents.
So--is it metal? I mean, it *looks* like metal, but it gives like flesh. Look.
What do you mean, "don't touch it?" Don't you realize I drove almost two hundred miles here with this thing? My car's shocks are *shot*, let me tell you; feel every bump. Point is, whatever this thing is, it's not about to explode, or it would have done it already.
Why the fuck do you think the cat is pink? Who ever heard of a pink cat? That's the most ridiculous--*ohmyGod!*
*It's MOVING!* | 2021-12-17T08:16:08 | 2021-12-17T07:43:15 | 59 | 37 |
[WP] We invent the warp drive, only to discover that humans are already a member of the galactic community. Apparently there have been enough alien abductions over the years to start a small country. | "I just... I still don't quite understand," Captain Jefferson repeated as he sat across from the colourfully dressed man. This was to be a day of triumph - not just for him, but all of humanity. The warp drive! Travel lightyears in seconds! And, of course, at last contact with other intelligent life!
And he did. He was found by an alien ship which promptly ushered him into a megastructure orbiting a nearby - relatively speaking, of course - star that served as a meeting centre for the Galactic Community. A centre where he saw more aliens than he could ever imagine. A centre where he found another human.
"It's not as bad as it sounds," the fellow human nodded. "I mean people don't really think about it, but when you get abducted, you don't just disappear. Most of us end up here."
"But... there's thousands of you! You've made an entire country just out of abductees!" Jefferson cried out.
"We have an excellent source of income from tourism. You'd be shocked how many aliens find human culture utterly fascinating," the man laughed. Jefferson was less entertained.
"Look," the man continued, "I can imagine this is tough. You expected to be the first human on the galactic scene. It's not your fault! We've been around for centuries, you couldn't have-"
"Did you say centuries?" Jefferson interrupted.
"Oh. *Right*. This has been going on for a *while*. That and there's some, uh... excellent healthcare on the galactic market. I'm actually 307," the man said casually. Jefferson eyed him up and down. He looked barely 40.
"This is insane," Jefferson continued. "Don't you miss Earth? Your families?"
"They're dead by now," the man said dryly. His tone was casual, but the way he lowered his eyes betrayed proved he wasn't as callous about it as he wanted to seem.
"And do you not hold a grudge against those who took you?"
"That's... a peculiar matter. See, abducting sentient species is strictly against Galactic Code. On Earth, it's mostly done by the sh'keen - I always pronounce it wrong, mind you - who are heavily scrutinised by the Lawbringers. That's, uh, sort of like Galactic police. Still, it does happen. Basically, those who abduct us aren't a part of the Community."
"Huh," Jefferson said half-heartedly.
"You alright?" the man said with a warm smile.
"Processing."
"Understandable."
The two sat silently as the man quietly sipped a beverage Jefferson had never seen but looked oddly appetizing.
"Did any of you ever try going back?" Jefferson asked.
"Some. Never ends well."
"How so?"
"Well," the man adjusted himself in his seat, "few of us - those abducted more recently, mind you - can attest that claiming to have been abducted by aliens don't fare too well. And some of those were likely those who chose to return," he said and motioned a circle around his temple.
"But you could show the technology you used to get back, surely! That-"
"Would be extremely against the Code. Lawbringers wouldn't let you get 10 light years from a non-space-faring civilization with current tech. You have to go in covertly with an official escort. Tons of paperwork."
"But we've been space-faring since, like... 1960's," Jefferson protested.
"Right, the Moon, right?" the man noted. "Yeah, one of the recent arrivals told me about that. Let's be honest though... that's like comparing driving on a highway to sticking a finger out of your window."
Jefferson opened his mouth to protest but found no words. The man was ultimately right, painful as it might have felt.
"Now what?" Jefferson asked. He felt silly for asking that - he was the first man to travel in the warp, he was supposed to be making those calls, but in the face of this colossal revelation, he felt totally helpless.
"Well, Earth has officially become advanced enough to be welcomed into the Community. Still - there's a lot of paperwork to be done and committees to be assembled before we can officially get to that. Best you stay a while until that is all done, meet the locals," the man smiled.
Jefferson nodded, though he wasn't wholly convinced by his own agreement. The man reached into his waistcoat and pulled out an old pocket watch with an engraved lid. Unlike the man himself, the watch actually seemed its age, though it was excellently maintained.
"Now then," the man stood up with a wide smile. "Lunch?" | Crimson bursts swam behind Commander Holland’s eyes. The ship slowed, feeling more like coming out of a spin than forward acceleration.
“Johnson, what do you see?” he asked, raising from the safety pod as soon as the locks clicked. He rubbed his eyes, idly wondering on the long-term effects of this bleeding-edge tech.
“We are indeed at the site of the anomaly, 36 light years from our starting point.” The navigation officer shifted in his seat. The map showed on his screen, a short thick line followed by a long dotted one.
Holland breathed a sigh of relief, even though this drive and the ship around it had possibly been checked over more times than any other creation in human history.
“Launch the scout probes,” Holland said, standing and walking towards the captain’s chair. They were on the cusp of discovering what phenomenon produced the heat of a star but no light at all. The entire world would be waiting for their report.
“Launching bays one through six,” the head of the front gunmen called. Holland hated the military terminology and the politics behind them even more. He was before all else a scientist, honorary naval rank or no.
“Sir, scout one is unresponsive, three also, and…” the gunman said. All three of the crew in the bay scrambled around each other to hurry to their seats. “Four is picking up a massive heat signature, wait. Also, down. All scouts are down. It seems like something hit them.”
“Well, I’d rather the scouts be faulty then the life support.” Holland stood again, back complaining at all the movement. “Prepare six EVA suits. We’ll check this out the old fashion way.”
“Sir, that may be unnecessary,” the comms officer, Jacobs, said, pulling up a wavelength readout on the main bridge display. “The anomaly is directing a signal aimed right at us.” She began typing quickly.
Holland watched as the wave on the screen spiked, croaking and whispering coming through the ship speakers. It changed drastically every few seconds.
“For English, press four two nine Blue Rose,” a voice said clear as day from the speakers, followed by what sounded like cricket song.
The bridge went quiet save for the prattling transmission. Holland realized everyone was staring at him. Was this first contact? Focusing on the magnitude of a situation only weakens your ability to respond to it. Who had said that?
“Send back traditional radio comms matching the frequency,” Holland cleared his throat. “Four two nine blue rose. This is Commander Holland of the SFS Rideya. Can anyone read me?”
“It’s through, sir,” Jacobs said, voice shaking.
The rhythmic noises stopped, followed by a few sharp, rough ones and what sounded like flipping through pages.
“Human?” came from the transmission, a voice of indeterminate gender. Jacobs pointed back to Holland with a thumbs up.
He nodded. “Yes, we are humans. You are not?”
“Irrelevant,” the voice said. “To expedite the docking procedure, please refrain from responding except to answer questions. What is the planet of origin of your vessel?”
“Earth,” Holland said. “It was constructed in Quebec, Canada two years ago.”
A grunt with the inflection of a sigh came through. “The Qui share the human love of nonsensical farce. The Roshaiya do not. Your ship is not in any known registry. I will need dimensional schematics, atmospheric contents, and load bearing analysis through each ship exterior edge.”
“We can send you this information,” Holland said. “But to what end?”
“Excuse me,” the voice said. “The nature of this conversation has grown too offensive to me. Hold on.”
“I apologize for any-” Holland began.
“Yo!” a new male voice came from the speakers, including amazingly, video footage of a young pale dark haired man. “Sorry about that guy. Really hates any of the stock races. Just be glad you don’t have to look at him.” The man gestured dismissively at something offscreen.
“This is Commander Holland of the SFS Rideya. Am I correct in assuming you are a human inside the anomaly?”
“Whoa, the anomaly, that’s a sick name. Yeah, yeah,” the man said. “Man, we mostly know Earth from radio and TV stuff and can I just say, you look just like the Hogan Heroes guy. I never saw anybody that old. Did you guys really build that ship, like sci-fi style?”
“Yes,” Holland said. “You said we, are there many humans there with you?”
“Oh yeah, it varies depending on the season but they keep up at 10,000 or so.” Behind the man, Holland could make out several other humans walking in neat rows towards a pond of bluish green water. “The holiday for the Empers they have every few years is coming up so they aim for a lot to be 25 to cap out around now, yours truly included.” He nodded and smiled, touching a hand to his chest. His fingernails were strangely long.
“I’m having trouble with the terminology,” Holland said, sitting back down. “Cap out? Empers? Is that the species we were talking to earlier?”
The man laughed, scratching his long hair, “No way, Drif? He’s just a roshi AKA stick firmly up the keister. Embers are the big bosses that built the Blue Rose, the anomaly I guess. Loads of different species come and go. Cap out is when a person gets too old and is sent off to be put down.”
“So,” Holland said carefully, glancing around the bridge. “You’re telling me when people reach 25 years old, they are killed here?”
“Yep,” the man said cheerfully, typing on a screen. “Well, just humans. It’s different by stock species. Makes sense they don’t do that on Earth. Who would eat them, right? What’s it like growing old? Seems kind of gross.”
Holland stared at the young man bopping his head along to some unheard song, trying to think how to respond.
“Docking procedure initiated,” an automated voice said. The ship lurched forward, drifting to the anomaly.
The young man gave a thumbs up and the feed cut. "See you in a minute, friends."
/r/surinical | 2022-10-13T08:07:42 | 2022-10-13T07:59:34 | 605 | 69 |
[WP] A demon tries to possess a human. The only problem is that the person's mind is so broken and lonely that even the demon, for the first time in it's existence feels sadness. | “God, if you exist out there, please help me.”
The demon listened to the young girl pray, as he had been doing for the past several nights, and as she had been praying. He grinned to himself, thinking she would make an easy possession if she believed in such silly things as God. It had been her voice that drew him here in the first place, filled with such resigned desperation that it carried across to the otherworld where demons lived. He had already staked his claim on her; and now, having observed long enough, it was time to reveal himself.
He entered with a good old-fashioned explosion of smoke, emerging from the small alter in the room that the girl prayed to. “I am here to grant you power, child,” the demon spoke in a booming voice.
The girl startled and fell back on her butt, starting up at the demon, a large and shapeless red aura, and asked in a small voice, “God?”
The demon sighed. Surely if she was religious, she would have heard of devils? He went along with it though, anything to get into her head faster. “Yes, you may think of me as your god. I can help you.”
“Please, I need help to leave this place,” the girl begged, scrambling back onto her knees and clasping her hands. “I’ll do anything.”
The magic words! The demon grew excited. An easy target, indeed. “Of course. All you need to do is agree to let me... possess your body, and I can help you once I have physical form.”
Without hesitation, the girl agreed. With the verbal contract sealed, the demon laughed as his aura dove into the girl. He tested out his new, albeit scrawny limbs, exploring the limits of the girl’s body before looking into her mind.
And... it was despairing. Much more than any other human he had possessed. The girl’s “caretakers” were prominent clergy members in this little church town, and they had heaped upon her abuses that even he, a demon, would not. Treated more as a slave, she and other children in the same situation were forced to attend to the clergy’s needs — to be delicate — daily, were locked up when not in use, and were beaten and starved if they behaved out of line. That the girl still believed in God despite all this... the demon felt sadness for her.
“I will tear it all down,” he said, feeling his innate rage well up. He had only meant to trick her to take possession but the girl... she needed genuine help. “I will destroy this town so you can be free.”
They say there were few survivors, all children kept underground, of a small church town that mysteriously burned down in a massive blaze. Some say it was bandits, others say the devil himself given the mutilated bodies of the clergy. Only a traveling priestess with a deep, immeasurable rage knows the truth. | "So, Flora, what are your plans today?" I turn to look at Urrick. It is the start of the weekend. I smile coyly, leaning into him as we sit in the grassy field.
"Whatever you want, Urrie" I reply. "After all... you're the one in control!" I kiss his cheek. Urrick puts his arm around me, pulling me in closer, putting my head on his chest.
"I don't want to do anything to hurt you, love" he says gently. "After all... I promised to protect you, right?" He runs his red finger through my hair, stroking my horns.
I smile contentedly. I never thought I'd have a relationship with anyone, let alone a demon! But Urrick cares for me so much... I practically begged for us to be united together, which caused him to exchange part of my soul with part of his.
Suddenly, I spot something. It looks like... "Hey, Urrie... isn't that Malessor?" Urrick looks up.
"It is... he only comes to earth when he wants to possess someone..." the two of us stand up and make our way over.
He looks kind of pathetic... I mean, I wouldn't *normally* say that, but this is a DEMON that literally looks DEPRESSED!
"Hey, Malessor... is... everything ok?"
He looks at us. "Urrick... boss did that to her... didn't he?"
"Do what? To who?" I query.
"A girl... jet-black hair... hazel eyes... I tried to... to possess her... but her mind... it was playing this scene over and over... she was bullied badly... by her 'friends' no less! The girl... she's just a shell thanks to that scene..."
I think for a moment. "...Urrie, I think he's talking about Allie."
"Sounds like it" Urrick responds. Urrick then grins. "Maybe she needs someone to help her out of it... Malessor, what do you think of that girl?" I give Urrick a puzzled look.
"She... she was pretty, if I'm honest... you know I choose my targets as I see them, Urrick. She looked like someone who'd be fun to frighten... now, I just want to help her..." Urrick nods as he looks at his wrist.
I suddenly realise what Urrick is thinking. "Urrick, you can't, it's not fair!" He turns to look at me.
"Allie needs help, Flora. Malessor wants to help."
"But... then we can sort out a guardian angel! We can get her therapy and counselling! We can-"
"FLORA!" Immediately, I shut up. "Flora... this isn't any ordinary situation. The human mind... it's so easy to destroy... it sounds like Allie is in worse shape than we thought... this needs to be done..."
"But... but..." I shake my head, tears filling my eyes. He gently grabs my bracelet with his own braceleted hand, raising both arms.
"Flora... who's in charge here?" His voice is firm, but also gentle and soft.
I sigh. "As I said before... you are..." Urrick kisses my forehead.
"I promise I know what I'm doing, love. Remember, I'm in control, and that means I need you to trust me." I lean into Urrick, allowing him to hug me.
"Ok, Urrie... I... I trust you..."
Urrick strokes my cheek, then summons a portal just behind me. "Wait for me at my house. I shouldn't be long." I notice him mess with his bracelet a little, before giving me a nod. I nod in return and step through the portal.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
This story is a part of my series, [To Love a Demon.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/xqefwu/to_love_a_demon/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out! | 2022-10-17T06:31:52 | 2022-10-17T04:01:57 | 66 | 13 |
[WP] A woman falls in love with Death and commits murder countless times just to catch a glimpse of him. | "Hey there, tall dark and handsome!"
Her lips were blood red, and pursed in her most seductive smile. Her dress was black, with white skulls in the pattern of polka-dots; it was also short. Her legs were long and smooth-shaven. Her eyes smouldered.
"Stop it."
His voice was huge, cosmic. It boomed with the sullen, crushing weight of a collapsing star.
"Since you're here, maybe you'd like to have a drink with me? I've got some merlot. Do you like red wine?"
"I'm being serious."
"Dead serious?"
"That's not funny."
Her eyes twinkled with adoration.
"What the fuck?" A translucent man appeared next to Death.
"I'm so sorry about this." Death told him.
"Not as sorry as I am. I really thought that date was going well."
"It wasn't." The woman smiled wickedly.
"Tabitha, you have to stop killing people."
"Then," Tabitha batted her long, thick eyelashes at the Reaper, "You'll come visit me on your own?"
"No."
Her face warped into a sneer, her blood-red lips curled, revealing bone-white teeth. She picked up the wine bottle by the neck and threw it at Death. It flew just to the right of his skull, but he didn't flinch. There was a crash of breaking glass against the wall, followed by the slow drip of wine falling to the floor.
"I just want you to spend some time with me!" She screamed.
Death put his arm around the translucent man, his bony fingers resting gently upon the man's intangible shoulder.
"Come on, Aaron, let's go."
"Really? I mean, it's really over? Because of this? I feel so cheated."
"You were." Death glared at Tabitha, his hollow eye sockets swallowed up the surrounding light like two black holes.
Tabitha continued screaming as Death turned and led Aaron away.
"If you got to know me, you'd love me! Every man loves me, except you. You're the only one I want!"
Death was nearly to the door, but he stopped. He turned his head.
"I know everyone, Tabitha. You're kind of a prick." | Bella waited.
She had done this before and she had become *good* at doing it. Whilst she waited, Bella took the time to examine the face of the man who now lay slumped at her feet. He had been a handsome man, in a rustic kind of way. His eyes were lined in a manner that suggested that he had lived a life worth living; one full of merriment and joy. Luckily, Bella knew better. The man had been a rapist and a murderer and he deserved to die. Her face hardened. She did what she did because she needed to but she was not a bad women and she always picked her victims with care.
Her heart was beating faster now. She glanced around more fervently. Where was he? Normally he would be here by now! She remembered the first time she had seen him. She remembered the flames, the screaming, the twisted bodies of those less fortunate, and the acrid smoke which filled her lungs and yet did not kill her. She remembered her sister, her face ashen and pale and contorted in the most terrible manner and she remembered that she would have done anything - anything! - to have relieved her of her suffering. And then - amongst all the pain and the memories and the regrets and the thoughts of what could have been and what *should* have been - he had appeared. And he walked over to her sister and he lay one bony finger on her forehead and she was in pain no more. And then he was gone, out of her life as quickly as he had come into it. And Bella had felt bereaved in more ways than one.
That had been the first time Bella had seen Death. It had not been the last. She never saw him for more than glimpses at a time for he was punctual if nothing else and never stayed to talk. But she was enamoured all the same, if not with Death himself than the idea of it. And so she was here again, waiting as usual.
And now, silence. The sounds of the city faded away as if they were too fearful to make themselves heard over what was to come next. The wind became a gentle breeze and time seemed to slow as if the universe itself was nearing its end. The air became stagnant and the stars themselves appeared to dim before finally, emerging out of a darkness that had not been there before, Death appeared standing at the end of the alleyway, neon lights dancing off a cloak as black as night. And he waited.
Bella's eyes widened and her pulse slowed. She could not move, for her love was an intoxication that paralysed her every move. But still Death waited. And as Bella looked on, she felt a knife's edge slice across her throat, and she felt the blood run down her chest and she saw the man she thought she had killed spit on her before staggering off into the darkness. Now Death moved, slowly pacing himself across the cobbles, the sound of bone on stone sending shivers down Bella's spine. He stood at her side and he knelt. She could not speak now, though there was much she wanted to say, but she didn't need to. Death bent his head down, and his forehead touched hers, and for one brief moment, though it could have been eons, they were as one. Finally, Bella breathed her last breath and Death felt her life depart her body. Slowly, he picked himself up and looked into the sky. And although he knew all that had been and will be, and although he had witnessed the dying of stars and the last whispers of ageless civilisations, he realised that he had never before been so full of sorrow as he was now. Death stood in silence for a moment, before taking one last look at the woman who had pursued him relentlessly through the lifetime of dozens of others. Finally, after all was done, he walked a few slow steps back down the alleyway, before disappearing back into the ether. | 2014-06-30T06:04:49 | 2014-06-30T05:50:48 | 1,253 | 173 |
[WP] You are a Lich, a fearsome undead necromancer with magical powers beyond comprehension. Unfortunately, the economy is really rough so you have taken a job as a Middle School Teacher. | “No Tommy I wasn’t-“
“Was he a good rapper?”
“Tommy I never met Alexander Hamilton. Now can we please get back to-“
“Did you meet Washington?” A girl in the back row asked.
This was my second day teaching. Yesterday the children were terrified of me. Once they got over my decaying appearance they wouldn’t stop pestering me. “Can anyone answer the question on the board?” A thousand years of perfecting my craft to ensure life eternal, except eternal life can get expensive. If only pieces of eight were still excepted for rent.
“Did you own slaves?” Asked a sullen boy. No matter what I tried I couldn’t keep them on task. I’ve controlled the six skulls of the immortal hell hounds, the beasts bathed in blood and baptism in barbarism, and they were easier than a classroom full of twelve year olds.
“For the last time this is algebra, if someone doesn’t give me the value for ‘x’ soon I will lose my patience.”
“Will you turn us into frogs? Is that what you did in Egypt?”
That was the last straw. I tried to be patient. I tried to be nice. Now it’s come to this. Now they’ve forced my hand. Now I’m going to call their parents. | The bell rings, and the nervous sixth graders look around anxiously. I smile. Homeroom on the first day of school is always amusing.
They look at me with confusion and fear. One kid looks like she is about to throw up. They probably think I was in some sort of horrific accident, cause my skin to turn ashy and parts of my face to rot off. My bald head is smooth and dull, all the gray contrasting with my bright red lipstick and blue eyeshadow. I raise a single bony figer to silence them.
"I am Ms. Eastaughffe. You may refer to me as Ms. East." My gravely voice startles them, but I hardly care. "I will be your history teacher this year. You will also have English, Math, and Science on this floor. Electives will be on the first floor. Any questions?"
A few hands raise, and I nod at a particularly brazen young boy. He reminds me of a young prince I knew back in Scottland.
"What happened to your face?" He asks without hesitation. The other students shoot him horrified glances.
I grin, revealing just a few black and yellow teeth. "Time does horrible things to you. After over six hundred years, you can hardly expect me to look like the young beatiful maiden I once was."
The students blink, confused or simply unimpressed with my 'lie.' But the little Prince is unfazed.
"You can't have been alive for 500 years. No one can. Science isn't that advanced now, let alone several centuries ago." He wears a triumphant look at 'disproving' me. I can't tell wheather I am impressed or annoyed by his sheer audacity.
"No, but magic can." I raise my hand and the room begins to shake, lights flickering. I can feel several corpses, old and rotton, shiver at my call from deep underground. But I realise them and the room goes back to normal,
Several kids are screaming, a few even crying. Most look bewildered, unable to comprehend the situation.
But of course the prince has a ridiculous smile on his face. Over the other students, I can just barely make out his whisper of "Cool."
"If you all behave and do your work, you have nothing to fear from me. But if you do not... Well, let's just say most of my students don't enjoy an hour of detention with me."
The bell rings again. "You should be able to find your next classes with ease. The room numbers are logical." No one moves.
"Go!" I shriek, shattering my mug. Almost all the children jump up and run from the room. Only five terrified students remain.
"Welcome to history." I say with no more malice in my tone. Some other students start to stumble in, glancing at me with suprise. "I believe you will find I know a thing or two about history. After all, who do you think wrote it?"
| 2018-06-27T08:10:49 | 2018-06-27T07:36:55 | 37 | 15 |
[WP] To be Samurai is to be Honor personified. To be a Viking is to be Rage personified. To be a Centurion is to be Strength personified. But your people are much different. To be a warrior of your kind, you must be Death personified. | When fighting beckons, each tribe of people have their own way of fighting. This defines them, and how they kill.
The Samurai of the East come from a land of plenty. Their history of looking out for one another gave birth to their way of war, Honor. They fight face to face, in carefully chosen duels. They strike at not the weak, but those who are in a position to fight. They do not ambush, but challenge. Their nobility is well known.
The Vikings of the North live in a frozen wilderness. They became little more the beasts to survive, and hate those who have more then them. This led to the core of their fighting strength, Rage. They strike with wild abandon, foregoing defense in favour of overwhelming offense. They kill any who stand in their way, no matter who they are. Their ferocity is unmatched.
The Centurions of the South come from a place with great mountains and chasms. These natural barriers and the predators that lived there, led them to value the idea of staying put. They embraced the ideal of Strength. For them, it is a careful march. They dig in, and fortify. They calculate their attack, to respond with the appropriate level of force to crush their enemies. Their fortresses are rarely breached.
My tribe, one of the few tribes of the West, value something different. We do not have the cold lands of the North, with snow for water and will covered animals a plenty. We do not have a land of plenty, where food can grow in abundance, like that of the East. We do not even have the great barriers of the South. No, we live in a desolate wasteland. To live here is to live alongside death, every step of the way.
We learned to value Death itself. We cannot care about a fair fight, like the fools of the East. A quick stab to the back is all that is required. The barbarians of the North may be ferocious warriors, but a single swift cut, and your foes fall. The cowards of the South may dig in well, but a well placed arrow will pierce the weak points.
It is customary amongst my people for those who wish to fight to kill a spine beast alone in the Cauldron of Slayers. Should they survive, which most do, they get anointed as Protector. Every year there after, they may choose another creature to fight, and should they succeed, they receive a tattoo of it's spirit, to show their ability to kill.
I, like many before, have chosen to pursue this path. But I am stronger then my peers. I have fought every creature, and survived. So I have chosen my new challenge. I will go to the other tribes of the world, learn their ways of fighting, and slay one of their greatest soldiers. I will find out their methods of killing myself, such that I may teach them to my tribe members, as new ways to fight.
My name is Storn, and this is my chosen duty. | "You are *forbidden*!" Shouted Dayamaise. He rested atop his throne, fashioned of fallen warriors. His dark brows were serious, his white beard swaying in the wind.
"Lord Father, the youth are restless, and I among them!" I objected.
A resonant, guttural growl began at the back of Lord Dayamaise's throat. "You are yet a pup! There are souls to be harvested, certainly, but not by *you*." The inflection on 'you' caused my heart to flicker, then rage began to build.
"You have kept us behind these walls *all our lives.* We are to become the next Vanguard, and you would have us inexperienced and unprepared." My voice was a venomous hiss. "We would be the laughingstock of the world. I am *taking my battalion* and I am venturing into the Valley with your blessing or not!" I turned on my heel and began to leave.
"You are not ready! The Valley is treacherous for our kind!"
"Apparently, so are you." I did not look back.
"Etherios!" Dayamaise called after me, but I was heedless. My heart was set in stone.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Etherios was furious- you could hardly tell by looking at him, though. He appeared comfortably nonchalant as he fashioned his armor- he was lean, tall- like a leopard, lazing in the sun. He skin was the color of ash, and his hair was black as night. He looked as he always did- painfully beautiful.
Yet Aderos knew better- he knew where to look. Etherios gave no hint as to his mood with his body language, but Aderos had a gift. The Truesight- a blessing amongst the Magisters of his kind. Etherios had an Aura- as all living things did- and his aura was typically a sanguine pond in an ethereal swamp- all purple and brown, indefatigable... Right now, however, his aura was full of sharp edges, rotating around his Auric sphere like spinning blades. He was furious, Aderos knew.
"Aderos. You're making me uncomfortable." Etherios said as he donned his Reaper Resin chest plate.
"Begging your forgiveness, Etherios." Aderos released his vision on Etherios's Aura.
"I'm not worried about the Valley, if that's what you're thinking."
"I know you aren't. Even though we lack experience, we have you to guide us- we will surely unite with Death with minimal casualties."
"Well- I'm not sure we're going to go *that* far into the Valley. Lady Death and the 13th Battalion *do* have a date, make no mistake about that- but I'm not planning on much more than a little flirting with her today. You know I'm just furious with Lord Dayamaise."
Aderos nodded. "Your father is certainly set in his ways- and while his ways have got us very, very far, he tries to shelter you from the hardships he once gladly endured. He does you a disservice."
"He does me no *credit*." Etherios hissed. "I've been trained daily to take his place on the throne, yet he gives me no responsibility! No way to *use* the skill I've developed. I can't stand it."
Aderos took up Etherios's weapons and handed them to him- dual axes, made of blackened steel, and with a wedge of obsidian for the blade.
Etherios took the weapons and dropped them into his magnetized belt loops. "Enough of my bitching." Etherios turned to the rest of the 13th Battalion. "Who's ready to hunt Shades?!"
All 11 other members of the Battalion beat their chest in response with an affirmative "Aa-ou!"
"Follow Left Hand Aderos, he's taking point. I'll be scouting. Dax, you're rear guard. Take whoever you want to be an extra set of eyes."
Etherios looked at *his* battalion. Each of them fine young man- Aderos in particular. Each highly skilled, but untested. "Let's test our metal, boys!" He shouted, and Aderos led them out of the courtyard, into the wilderness.
Etherios could *feel* his Father's gaze as he and his men left the safe confines of the mountain walled city- he cared not. This was what was needed for their society to stay strong. This was the future of the Grim Reapers. | 2020-07-23T10:37:31 | 2020-07-23T10:21:20 | 59 | 15 |
[WP] You're a lesser demon from actual hell who has taken a part-time job because the supernatural world has been cutting salaries. You suspect your coworker is secretly an angel in the same position. You're both appalled at the brazen evil of your human employers. | "...You just... upsold a retired woman on a laptop she will only use to call her grandkids and spread nonsense on facebook," I told Carl. Because apparently he didn't understand what he had done. Else, he wouldn't have done it, right?
He shrugged. "Look, buddy, I'm paid by comission, alright?"
I blinked. Made in the image of God, ladies and gentlemen.
Michael came by and took one look at my horrified face before gesturing for me to follow him. "Come on, Mara, I'm getting some coffee."
Carl went back to the cash register while Michael and I went to the break room.
"You saw that, right?" I asked, once we were alone. "You saw that."
"I saw it."
"No *wonder* they're cutting our salaries! These fuckers don't need anyone tempting them to be assholes!"
He shushed me and I *had* him. No normal person would respond to a statement like that by shushing of all things. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours?" I asked him with a smirk. He looked genuinely frightened for a moment, but then snapped his fingers and his halo blinked into existence just long enough for me to see it. I winked at him and my horns became visible just as briefly.
"...You know I thought... Your people were, um. *Comfortable* with the exploitation of the elderly," he said sheepishly, clearly having believed I was an angel before I showed him otherwise. I didn't know angels had salaries to cut.
"What the fuck? No! Exploiting the weak is such... Garbage. You want high-quality evil, get yourself a fucking army of able-bodied and well-trained men and fuck them all up. *That's* power. Exploiting a grandma is so small-potatoes it barely constitutes as an *action*, nevermind an evil one, except by how well it illustrates how shitty a person he is."
"...Yeah. It's been messing me up, you know? We're supposed to encourage kindness and goodness and it just..."
"It doesn't matter when all they care about is money?"
"Goodheart's law, yes."
I scoffed. "Well *that's* an ironic name..." | “They cut ‘em again, bloody bastards,” I crushed my fork and tossed it into the hearth. My reptilian skin sizzled, its scales turning over, the gaps between glowing with fiery cinders. “Humans- those insects, they’ve turned agonistic. Atheist. Bullshit, really. If Satan hadn’t been banished, we wouldn’t be in stuck in shit, working part-time jobs in this damned planet.”
Hell’s monarchy fell a millennium ago. Satan had been overthrown by revolutions upon revolutions of demons tired of having to torture souls that had sinned. The human realm’s government system looked much more appealing, so the system changed. Hell had its own Parliament, run by the elite classes of demons, and I just happened to be the butler of one of the elites. God approved because the commotion in Hell tarnished his holier-than-thou name.
With the ancient system changing, the economy toppled. Mankind’s fear for the underworld steadily deteriorated, as more smartasses emerged generation by generation, blinded by incorrect ‘logic’. Chaos ensued. Budget restraints were introduced by the managers upstairs as they reduced Hell’s funding, and the next thing I knew, demons were starving. Cash was low. Hell’s intense heat turned a notch lower. Cannibalism wasn’t an option that had been ruled out during Jesus’ days.
I heaved, on the verge of wrecking my computer.
“Crowley! Crowley – my man, you put on some weight?” My Boss, Ryan, sauntered by. The racist, sexist fuck that he was disturbed me. Here I assumed the atrocious discrimination existing on Earth decades ago had lowered – apparently not. I stared him in the eye, the skin on my face tightening, my knuckles clenching.
“I sure hope not, Boss.” My teeth were gritted, and my nails dug into my palm. “Is there anything you need?”
“Right-o, I need you to pull a night shift, fill in those patents, do some extra research, you know the drill,” he flashed a toothy smile, “also, man-to-man, but your co-worker- Angelina, she single?”
Angelina’s ears perked up, angelic hearing powers and all, and she rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t know, Sir, besides you’re kinda her boss and you’re married, so-,”
“Nuh-uh, Crowley. C’mon, we’re men, we make the rules, eh?”
I let out a small growl. Who does this absolute moron of a mortal think he was? “I-, yes. Yes, of course, Boss.” But I couldn’t lose this job. “And about that extra work, I can’t make do, my wife’s pregnant and-,”
“So? She isn’t giving birth to the baby, now is she? Pretty sure you can spare a night to get some extra work done, right?” His steely voice was laced with venom.
I looked down at the floor, feeling the red lightning bolts in my eyes bulge. “Alright, Boss. Noted.”
Ryan trudged away, hands pocketed, whistling and catcalling at the other women in the office.
“Angelina?” I walked towards her cubicle, voice husky as my inner demon glowered, “Don’t you think the mortals have crossed certain lines?”
She smiled, innocently, but had a mischievous glint in her eyes, “Crowley, I’m an angel. What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting, we teach the residents of this planet a lesson.”
“Crowley-,”
“Before you say anything, don’t you have morals? Do you really, really want a man like that to be able to have that kind of power?”
She tilted her head and grinned. “Hm…what’s the plan?”
\- - -
Constructive criticism is very welcome! If you could, please comment how you liked it, I'd appreciate that :) | 2020-08-25T01:22:44 | 2020-08-25T01:14:00 | 45 | 27 |
[WP] You're a lesser demon from actual hell who has taken a part-time job because the supernatural world has been cutting salaries. You suspect your coworker is secretly an angel in the same position. You're both appalled at the brazen evil of your human employers. | "...You just... upsold a retired woman on a laptop she will only use to call her grandkids and spread nonsense on facebook," I told Carl. Because apparently he didn't understand what he had done. Else, he wouldn't have done it, right?
He shrugged. "Look, buddy, I'm paid by comission, alright?"
I blinked. Made in the image of God, ladies and gentlemen.
Michael came by and took one look at my horrified face before gesturing for me to follow him. "Come on, Mara, I'm getting some coffee."
Carl went back to the cash register while Michael and I went to the break room.
"You saw that, right?" I asked, once we were alone. "You saw that."
"I saw it."
"No *wonder* they're cutting our salaries! These fuckers don't need anyone tempting them to be assholes!"
He shushed me and I *had* him. No normal person would respond to a statement like that by shushing of all things. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours?" I asked him with a smirk. He looked genuinely frightened for a moment, but then snapped his fingers and his halo blinked into existence just long enough for me to see it. I winked at him and my horns became visible just as briefly.
"...You know I thought... Your people were, um. *Comfortable* with the exploitation of the elderly," he said sheepishly, clearly having believed I was an angel before I showed him otherwise. I didn't know angels had salaries to cut.
"What the fuck? No! Exploiting the weak is such... Garbage. You want high-quality evil, get yourself a fucking army of able-bodied and well-trained men and fuck them all up. *That's* power. Exploiting a grandma is so small-potatoes it barely constitutes as an *action*, nevermind an evil one, except by how well it illustrates how shitty a person he is."
"...Yeah. It's been messing me up, you know? We're supposed to encourage kindness and goodness and it just..."
"It doesn't matter when all they care about is money?"
"Goodheart's law, yes."
I scoffed. "Well *that's* an ironic name..." | Now that Hell City was making pay cuts I had to find a job in the human world. I took the Hells Express subway which transported demons up to the overworld which was known as Earth. I knew I could find a job since my old job was surveillance on human diplomats. As I made it through the rift, my form began to morph into a human shape. This was a given considering humans aren't exactly too fond of my kind.
As I got off the subway I looked around for any indicator of where I landed. The sign said "Toronto" so I knew I was in Canada. A seemingly homeless man waked up to me and asked for some change.
"I'm sorry sir I have none."
"It's okay. God bless you." Said the man.
I was shocked since the homeless people I had seen from other parts of the world were more aggressive and impolite. "This is going to be easy" I thought.
For a few days I struggled to find a job until one printing company replied with an offer. I took it. Seeing as how I had no choice I couldn't say no. They told me to show up the next day at 8 AM sharp. So I did. In the morning I made my way to the downtown building and up to the 36th floor. When I entered the room of my work I was greeted kindly by all the other employees. In the corner I saw a door with my name on it.
I walked up to my desk for the first time in my life. It was clean and organized. The folders were all stacked neatly into a drawer, the cup of pens on the corner had sections for each colour of pen, and the carpet smelled freshly washed with a lemon-scented detergent of some kind. They really went all out.
I had spent enough time observing humans to perfectly mimick their behaviour. When my boss came in he greeted me and gave me the basic rundown of our goals for this year. When he left I thanked him and shook his hand with a smile. He smiled back.
Just as I sat down and got ready for my first assignment, one of my coworkers stepped into the room with a thick folder labeled "Blue Eye Inc". He plopped it onto my desk and looked me up and down.
"Do I know you from somewhere?" He asked suspiciously.
"No I don't believe so. You don't look familiar to me." I replied.
That's when I looked into his bright ocean blue eyes. The shining sparkle in his pupil was unlike any human I had seen before. He must be one of them. An angel. I had heard rumours about salary cuts in heaven too, but I dismissed them as it was highly unlikely. However this had to be an angel. He had a very slight glow to his face and his eyes sparkled in the light.
"God damn.." I whispered to see if he would react.
He turned around suddenly and said
"Do not blaspheme the name of the lord."
"I knew it!" I exclaimed. "You're an angel. What are you doing here? Are the rumours true?"
"Keep your voice down. Yes the rumours are true but not for long. Some working around needs to be done but soon enough both Heaven and Hell will be back to normal." He explained.
"What are the chances I get stuck here with an angel?" I laughed.
"If you think angels are bad wait until you get to know the boss here. Worse than some of your kind if I say so myself." He joked.
Just as he finished the boss stormed in looking redder than an apple.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING CHIT CHATTING GET BACK TO WORK YOU GOOD FOR NOTHINGS!" He screamed. "IF I CATCH YOU GOSSIPING ONE MORE DAMN TIME YOU'RE BOTH FIRED!!"
I saw the look in the angels face and knew what he meant. I agree. Humans are the true evil. | 2020-08-25T01:22:44 | 2020-08-25T00:45:40 | 45 | 12 |
[WP] The devils greatest trick is convincing the world he didn't exist? HA! His greatest trick was convincing us he lost and God is still in charge. | I ended my life three hours ago, and -to be perfectly honest- I choose to go to hell. My parents can live in their self-claimed heaven for all the prayers they made with my blood. I'll not meet them, I don't want to.
But I'm still wondering about what creature currently carrying me to the sky. So many eyes like an archangel, yet red horns flared visibly from the corner of my eyes.
"Tell me, are you angel, or devil?" I dared the question. My reward was the talon piercing my ethereal body. It clearly didn't care about my shriek.
It took me by surprise to see the creature turn sideways and dived back into eath. We traveled towards the deep sea, but there was a huge black hole at the center, where the rest of the souls was thrown.
Thrown?
"You're not sending me there- AAAAAHH!"
Beneath the sea was a realm of its own. This can't be hell, can it? It was cold and desolated, and snow raining down my body as I tumbled on the hard ground. An old man in a white robe came to greet me.
"Welcome to hell, young man," The old man reached out his hand. I grunted as I took his offer.
"Must have missed a page or so in the Catholic school, because I'm damned sure hell isn't cold."
He laughed, "But it can torture just as harshly."
"So where's the devil?" I almost didn't care about the pain, "Where can I read my sins?"
"Sins? Is that what they taught you on Earth?" The old man's eyes were pale and sorrowful, "Tell me, kid, how many sins have you committed through your life?"
"I... I don't count."
"How many good deeds?"
"I supposed to leave it to the angels in charge."
"In other words, you never measure the extent of your action. Good Deeds, Sins; all are subjected to your own idea. Do you think you deserve hell?"
"Maybe?" I admitted, "I left my belief once I turned 18. I have no faith in their justice. They called me blasphemy kid. My die-hard Catholic parents disown me. Everyone said I deserved hell, all because I believe all action in the name of God is not genuine. What's wrong with doing kindness without looking at a book? Why must there be a law to do good? God must be insane."
I noticed he was looking at the scar around my neck. I close the rope wound with my hands.
"God must be insane," He chuckled, "Of course he is. For he is no god."
I stopped my track and stared at him, "What did you say?"
"Kid, God is not always absolute. Sometimes, he made a terrible mistake, in the name of love. Like forgiving his rebellious creation," The old man stared at the dark sky, "Purging in his name, punish in his name. People believe anything in the name of god, not seeing the irony behind their faith.
"Thus, why does it matter who sits on the throne of heaven? Devil or not, humans never care, as long as there's a place to laid the blame. Oh, you love that, do you, my child? Usurping my thone, using my authority, making the suffering cursed my name."
The old man seemed to glow. My breath was caught.
"Oh god..." I muttered, "Was the one my parents prayed every day Devil? The one they said would punish me for not taking the cross?"
He said nothing and resumed walking, "Many others awaited you, my child, just up ahead."
I followed in silence, for I had never seen God look so weak. | “God is good, god gave us freewill. How funny is it that they say such grandiose things while dancing to my symphony of sin? I can’t blame them; how can a human comprehend someone like myself? My existence goes against any science, it goes against common sense. A person shouldn’t be able to do the things I do and yet, the bombs will still fall just the same.”
The suited man leaned against the railing of the skyscraper, a wicked smile on his thin face. The surrounding people were too stunned to speak, each hugging one another as they watched the plane in the distance, knowing what would soon come. To them, it was the end of their world, but to the devil, it was merely the beginning of the end. The start of humaniti’s self-inflicted demise and he had come to watch.
“This is what your freewill gave you. I wanted to keep you all chained and controlled, but he was foolish enough to think you could be better. You were each given the powers of a god, the power to shape your own destiny and look at how you used it. Instead of looking after one another, you sated your desires with my sins of temptation. I’m sure you will all blame me, but I hope you know this game was never rigged. When I took over, I left the freedoms he gave you. Part of me even wanted to be proven wrong, but deep down, I knew you couldn’t change. You’re only human, after all.”
He turned, resting his back on the railing, seeing if anyone had bothered to pay him any attention. Still, the crowd of panicked people were too busy with themselves to pay him any mind. His gaze scanning through the crowd of sinners, landing on one that particularly disgusted him. A man with ranch sauce markings along his expensive suit, his overindulgence in gluttony, making the devil feel ill.
“Was it worth it? All the fun? I wish I could tell you that all the money that you bled from the Earth is going to be worth something when you’re dead, but unfortunately, the only currency I operate on is souls and you all seem to lack one. If you had a soul, maybe I would let you into heaven. It’s not like I got rid of heaven when I took over, no I merely raised the standards. Being good isn’t about the hours on your knees at church, it’s about actions. I will only reward the worthy.” He let his fingers twirl the edge of his narrow moustache before sighing. “Perhaps I’m rambling. Is anyone listen?”
“Oh, god. They can’t be serious. They can’t really be about to do it.” The man, fueled by gluttony, screamed, looking past the devil and straight towards the plane. It’s loud metallic grinding, once again grabbing the attention of the ruler of both heaven and hell.
The devil looked over his shoulder before staring at his watch, checking how much time was left. He approached the crowd of horrified people, taking his spot among them. The devil wanting to make sure someone heard him, at least once before they came to hell. He gave the indulgent man and his wife a pat on the back.
“Want to confess anything? Any affairs? Any sins that you want to confess before you come to me? I’m giving you an opportunity, its less of a punishment if you show remorse. I’m not evil, you all are. I’m just the one that made it so no one could stop this from happening. I didn’t interfere. I let you all ruin yourselves and I must admit. You have done a better job than I ever could. To think god thought you could handle free will. Look at you all. It makes me sick to think he loved you. He would have happily thrown me, the person who helped him, to the cold depths of hell for suggesting we keep you in line. Well god, this is what your humanity did with their gifts. Hope you can see it from the cold depths of hell.”
“Get off me, you freak. I’m spending my last moments with my wife.” He hissed, his flabby cheeks shaking as he pressed his wife against his side.
“Hm, thought you would have rather had the company of your secretary.” The devil shrugged, looking down at his watch before heading to the railing, returning to his leaning posture once more.
The plane had reached its destination, and soon the end of humanity fell from the sky. The bomb was not the first of its kind and certainly wouldn’t be the last. It was, however, the first piece of the falling dominos, the one that would trigger the violent response that would lead to the death of the planet, and he would get to see it all. As the wave of heat flowed through the city, shattering windows with its force, the devil felt at home, the warm destruction reminding him of the layer of hell he lived in. He opened his arms up, embracing the heat, while the others went quiet. Before they died, he left them with a few parting words.
“I’ll see you all soon.”
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2022-07-07T05:37:33 | 2022-07-07T04:48:54 | 60 | 36 |
[WP] You are a twenty something. You wake up to find yourself in your 8 year old body. You are in the time and at the place you were when you were 8, but with all the memories and mannerisms of your twenty something self. | Dear diary (is this how people actually start diaries?),
I am starting a diary... It been a crazy past few hours and I realized I need to put all of this to paper. For my sanity and maybe a book one day (it's never to early to plan ahead). So many things are running through my mind right now. I woke up this morning back in my 8 year old body, time has catapulted back to 2001 and I AM BACK IN MY 8 YEAR OLD BODY!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!?
Okay, okay don't panic all over again. The craziest thing is, I remember everything. Which means I've got to be, at the very least, one of the top 10 smartest 8 year olds alive. So congrats on that, it probably won't last long.
What do 8 year old even do anymore? ...
.
.
.
.
.
.
Hey diary, I'm back. Same day. Anyway, I just climbed a tree, HOLY SHIT IT WAS AWESOME! Last time I climbed a tree and it was fun, Magic mushrooms were involved.
I talked to my parents, I think they could tell something was up but I'm not gunna pretend and talk like a child to them. I'll just avoid using robust verbiage (lol I know smart words still).
I have this concern about my memories fading, so I wanna write some things down:
1. When 2010 rolls around invest in Tesla
2. Don't text and drive, dumb Ass
3. Weed is not the devil, it's the devils lettuce and it's good
4. Get good grades in high school and go to a good college
5. Try and make out with Mindy Johnson, that fox ;)
6. Start building a tree house
7. BUILD A MONSTER HOT WHEELS TRACK THROUGH THE WHOLE HOUSE!
Alright. The last one got me reeeeaaal excited. I'll write again tomorrow. | Timothy opened his eyes and found himself on his school playground. He was in the middle of a soccer game 20 years earlier. Without hesitation he pulled his pants down, and went with the plan he made during his time travel fantasies. As his late night journal says," pee on everything. Get the retarded card" | 2016-12-17T03:07:38 | 2016-12-16T22:42:10 | 39 | 15 |
[WP] You won't hold heroes hostages to torture them. You won't throw a hero against a wall once you have them by the neck. You sure won't start monologuing if you have a hero at gunpoint. You're the deadliest villain in history. A villian without an ego..
[removed] | I have never understood how no one has done what I have. It's simple and direct. Plan and execution. Yet somehow countless people before me have failed.
I've taken over the world... more or less. Still a few groups refusing to accept my rule.
Looking back it all started when I walked upon a street brawl.
\---
It was at least 20 people swinging fists and clubs. I just walked on by. Ain't none of my damn business, I just work, sleep and game. But then I hear loud bangs. Gunfire. Then something flies in front of me... a gun.
It's a pistol, semi-automatic. Probably one of the hooligan's.
"Hey!" Probably one of the hooligans.
I keep walking. Safest bet.
"I'm talking to you, you bitch-stick!"
Bitch-what? I turn around and get sucker-punched. I didn't want to get involved, but am now.
The gun, right next to me. I'm in danger. I pick it up and shoot the guy who hit me. I see him drop. I hear him breathe. Raspy choppy breaths.
I look around the street. Everyone is gone, 'cept a few bodies.
Better get to work, don't want to be late. I won't get in trouble but the boss is a real bitch.
"Stop right there!" A deep booming voice. "Murderer."
It's one of the costumed "heroes". Never did anything for me, barely do anything for anyone really. Haven't heard of any of them stopping any wars. Only a few gangs, and even then the gangs always come back!
"Put down the gun or face the consequences!"
I look at him, well at his goofy red mask with lightning bolts. "Excuse me?"
"I said give yourself up."
"Have ya heard of self-defense?" Who the fuck is this dumbass? I could've died!
He surrounds himself with electricity, "I'm going to count to 5!"
Holy shit, he's going to attack me!
"1..."
I need to think fast.
"2..."
"FIVE!" I fire the gun.
The costumed vigilante falls dead.
**"NOOO RED-THUNDER!!!"**
I look and see a blue streak zoom away.
It was then I realized super beings were chumps.
\---
Since then I put an ad out, asking for basically mercenaries. I told them to shoot first not to scream or anything. After a few dead heroes some villains came to me asking for wisdom... each time they did I told them I needed full access and control of their facilities and organizations. Then I shot them, and eventually had weapons that could harm the most resilient of heroes.
A lot of people tried to stop me, but when they got me they began a big rambling speech. I would sneak off and bash their head in with a rock or promise to not do what I was doing. And it always worked... and I continued to do what I was doing.
Some of the villains I killed had programs that would basically let them control nations. They never used it, so I did. The programs always came with a powerpoint presentation too. Showing the step-by-step process. Exact weakness. Really stupid stuff.
I used the stuff the villains had to kill the heroes and take over the world. Took about a week. | I always thought it was funny that they expect a monologue, that when they're beaten and on the ground that they will get a chance to take a breather and turn it around like some grand spectacle.
But that's not what my dad taught me, he always said "if you're in a fight and knock them down make sure they stay down" which is what I do.
"What do you want" the voice of the man tied up in front of me breaking me out of my reverie. It's was little more than a hoarse whisper through his broken jaw. I turned to look at the costumed fool, his bright red, white, and blue outfit covered in blood.
"I thought it was obvious, I'm going to kill you" I said calmly as approached him pulling out my knife, the green blade glowing slightly. I'll admit I enjoyed the look off fear on his face as he tried to pull away from me.
"Why" he asked desperately trying to by for time.
"Well that's not really you're problem anymore is it" I pulled his head forward and pressed my knife into his neck perfectly aimed to sever his spine. He started to scream but I tuned it out just like the others, he wouldn't be screaming long anyways.
I left the body slumped over, it wouldn't be long before the others supers found him and I needed to be long gone. As I walked down the road I pulled out my phone and looked up the news, the first headline I saw "HUNDREDS KILLED IN BATTLE BETWEEN THE SPEEDSTER AND ICE-MANIAC IN DOWNTOWN." I sighed shaking my head, thinking to myself "the jobs never done is it" | 2019-08-06T20:42:43 | 2019-08-06T19:22:38 | 121 | 30 |
[WP] You remember the angry mob. You remember the debates on tv about what should be done with you. You remember the vote. You look up at the screen inside the rocket showing your path towards the Sun. "Ok", you sigh, "that's probably fair." | Nobody ever wants to think they are the bad guy. I'm not sure whether I am or not, though, and that's the scary part. My punishment is this cell and that acceleration couch, although to be fair, I think the path directly to the sun is meant to be a part of it. Fortunately or unfortunately, the mob didn't consider that it takes light eight minutes to get to earth, and my rocket's acceleration is so slow that death by the sun is the least of my worries. By the time this rocket gets anywhere near the sun, I'll have been long dead from asphyxiation, starvation, or a whole host of other problems that occur when you put someone by themselves in a jail cell and launch it at the sun.
This was all so much more logical in my head. When it all began, I knew that mankind was on a downward spiral, and the revolutions were getting faster. Birth rates to people without even a high school diploma continued to rise, and 'college graduates' who didn't even know basic history kept preaching about socialism. The planet was getting more and more crowded by people with less and less education. Our natural resources were dwindling and societal cohesion was breaking down everywhere except where it had already disintegrated completely.
I named the drug Conso Quenzes. Apparently that went over the head of most people. Conso Quenzes was the first drug that would guarantee that pregnancy would not occur as long as you took it once a month and was able to be taken by both men and women. I worked hard on the formula for over a decade before I patented it and released it for sale to the public. Even the FDA was singing its praises. What I failed to mention was that Conso Quenzes had a very big side effect if you took it for longer than six months: irreversible sterility. The truth is, I fudged the testing. If you only took it for five months and waited a month, it was safe for another five months. During testing, I simply switched the drug out for a different drug at the six month point. I used the profits I made off the first few batches to make more and began selling it at cost to nations around the world. It was almost two years before people began to notice the side effect.
The UN took me to trial for human rights violations. Churches and mosques around the world condemned my actions, even as unwanted pregnancies fell from percentages of a country's population to literal single digits. For the first time, even as my citizenship was stripped from me and I was made an outlaw by every nation on earth, the orphanages were finally being emptied. Abortion became a thing of the past as people began to finally understand and acknowledge that children were important and not an inconvenience. Parents began to teach their children, and raise them themselves as opposed to letting the state do it.
Looking back, I'm sure my name will be synonymous with all of the most evil of men. It's almost too bad I'll never get to see the future of the world I saved. I reached into my jumpsuit and pulled out the pill slipped to me by one of the guards. Ah well, at least it'd be quick. | I sat down on the cold steel floor of my compartment. I sighed and grimaced, nothing in my temporary prison but a digital screen, showing how far my rocket was from the sun. I was roughly two hours away.
Serenely, I pulled out a camera and a long distance satellite receiver. Before my fall, so to speak, I'd done a lot for research into space communications. I'd smuggled this on, just because...
They said this about my actions. My term was similar to a lion eating with a mouse. You can eat for a while, but the lion always has the last bite.
Time to follow through.
There were few people still loyal to me. Thinking back to the mob, the people on TV talking about my crimes against humanity... well. Let's not talk about those, shall we? You want to hear of a criminal's final moments, not how he got here.
Anyways, I got them to rig it in subtle ways. I didn't intend to have my legacy passed on, but they *needed* what I'd done.
I could monologue for hours, but setting up, I only had one thing to say.
I grinned. "I'm glad, you know." Looking only at the bright light shining through the windows, I gave the camera one of my signature smiles. "I'm glad you were willing to spend so much money on me."
My only regret was not being able to seeing the looks on their faces. | 2016-11-30T08:16:43 | 2016-11-30T06:35:10 | 62 | 40 |
[WP] When everyone reaches 18 they have to choose a super power from a select list of powers, but when you enter the selection room there is only 1 power for you to choose from. | “Hey, kid. So, uh, I know this will be disheartening, but all of the kids before you had already taken all powers. I’m really sorry. But, the good news is, we still managed to save one power left just for you. Is it alright?”
It would be a lie if I said I’m not disappointed, but what else can I do?
“It’s alright”, I looked down to my feet, “I’ve already expected it.” I’ve known beforehand that I will be the last to choose my power. It’s a disadvantage for those who were born in December, we weren’t left with many choices. All the early kids had hogged up most of the cool powers. I guess that's just unfortunate for me.
The guide lady looked at me with pity, but seeing my calm expression, she didn't know what more to say. She walks over to the sealed container, pressing the code buttons one by one. The lid slowly opens, letting out a wisp of smoke, and from a distance I can see her taking out a crystal glowing with purple, no larger than a pea.
“So, what is my power?”, I question out loud.
“It will be postcognition.”
“Huh?”, I shot up my eyebrows, “Postcognition? As in, the ability to see one’s past?”
“Yes. You don’t like it?”
“No, it’s not that”, I waved my hands, “I mean, I think it’s a really beneficial power, how come no one wanted it?”
The lady shrugged, “How can I know? Most children prefer the power of flight, super speed or even precognition. They weren’t all that into history”, she then eyed me from head to toes, “Hmm... You seemed interested, I assume?”
“Yeah. I actually planned to major in history and classics in university, so this power can be quite handy.”
“Well lucky you. Now come here and take your gift.”
When I headed over, she placed the crystal in my hand, along with a glass of water and instructed, “Swallow it whole with water, imagine it’s candy. Do not keep it in your mouth, it won’t dissolve.”
“This ritual has a really high choking hazard”, I joked, before putting it in my mouth and chucking down the entire glass of water.
I closed my eyes as I felt the warmth rising up in my stomach, taking in the expanding heat as I absorbed the power.
A minute went by, then a second, then I opened my eyes again.
“Well?”, the lady smiled, “How are you feeling right now?”
I smiled back at her, “I know what you did last summer.” | In Jamestown there is no crime. When the residents reach the age of 18 they go to the town hall, a large building where you can find statues of muscular men and women. They choose a power from a select list of powers.
Manuel was greatly disappointed when he saw that he had only 1 power to choose. He knew what that meant: With the power to fly he would have to do the job of being a weather balloon. 2 years later he is fed up being a weather balloon. He is telling his wife Rylie, who with superhuman strength and a superintellect is working in the construction industry that he is going to go to Eastontown where the council of superpowers is located and tell them that his power is shit and he will stop doing the job of being a weather balloon.
"Fine" she said while leaning on a table which has a tablecloth in a red white checkered pattern. And so Manuel spent the rest of his days unemployed and he never even flew again due to being upset of having been a weather balloon. | 2022-12-18T17:56:22 | 2022-12-18T06:50:45 | 55 | 18 |
[WP] At the moment of your death, a goddess gives you a chance to reincarnate in another world. The catch is that you need to become the hero of that world. The other catch is that you are not a helpless teenager but a trained member of your country's special forces. | Beasts buck-toothed and slimy charged towards the city capital. Their claws left ravines in the streets. Standing in their way was a man in a black helmet.
The man was dressed in black and held a gun. As the beasts leaped towards him, the man shot at them, and writhing and groaning they fell onto the ground. On the grease-stained face of the man, a toothy grin flashed.
He had reasons to smile. About an hour earlier, he had been dead and quite incapable of grinning. The grin however was but a flash, for the man knew deep in his heart that such a life was not life, only an imitation. His life had ended, now he was just alive.
It had ended with the words, "Watch out!"
Not his words, no. Those words belonged to a certain Mr. Jones. Lovely guy, at the wrong place, wrong time.
Those words, then darkness, then...
"What place is this?"
"This is the void," a big booming voice that seemed to originate from every molecule of the darkness.
"Am I dead?"
"No. Not quite. I have stopped you from dying."
"Why?"
"Heroes are needed. Real heroes with courage and method. You need to live. But you cannot go back to the land from whence you emerged."
"Will it make the darkness go away?"
"Yes."
"What if I refuse?"
"You die. Eternal sleep."
The deep philosophical thoughts about existence that now tortured him didn't do so then. At the time, like at the end of high school, heroism seemed like a good escape.
"I will do it. Let me live."
The next moment he was there in the city square, with his M-16 slung over his shoulder, the kevlar helmet on as if he had just lost his way during the mission.
His mournful, contemplative figure stood over the bodies of the dead beasts, the hero, celebrated by the people who now emerged out of hiding.
The people, red-skinned, yellow-haired, short and stocky, with long jackrabbit ears, congratulated him.
"What a fine job, sir. You are a hero."
"We will have a statue of him here, what say, Mayor Carlyle."
"Indeed. He is no normal being. Look at him. He's so big, so strong."
"What are you called, mister?"
The soldier's lips parted just a little, "David," he said and fell into a melancholy silence. His heart bled for his fallen comrades, for the world he had given up, but death wouldn't take him back so soon, not until he had conquered evil.
Time washes everything away, he thought. It will wash the melancholy away.
In front of his glazed eyes, a red-skinned lady fluttered her eyes and walked away disappointed. | I sat all winter waiting for the signal. They would not see me coming. It started with a bang. And I was off. Cascading down, collecting a force to take on the world below. Nothing could stand in my way. Nothing did. When the dust had settled, my forces and myself spread thin across the valley floor, I had realized my mistake. It was not a signal at all, but a ruse. A ruse by my mortal enemy. They had planned to draw me out before I grew too powerful. And with a bang they succeeded. I should have seen it coming, they are always around picking and prodding, easy to spot in their bright orange getup. Do they want to be seen?
I sit staring up at my stronghold in disrepair, biding my time for another attack. Time passes and I grow weaker. I guess this is not my year. Spring is near, and with it comes defeat. The gods above provide and they take. Next year will be better. The gods will provide a force to take on the world. I will descend upon it and blanket it. Everyone will fear me.
\-Avalanche | 2021-04-06T08:03:23 | 2021-04-06T07:35:48 | 29 | 12 |
[WP] Five psychics are gathered into a room and are not allowed to leave until one of them is outed as a fake. | We stared at each other. We knew it was true, we had to confess. We just didn't want to be the first. The men who had dragged us in there didn't look like they were messing around. They didn't look like they were going to kill us, but we had built our entire careers on a lie... And we all knew it. Nobody was going to speak up. I finally gathered my courage.
"It's me." I said. "I'm the fraud."
There was silence for a minute. Then another spoke up "So am I." the balding man in the corner said. "It's all a trick, all for the audience.. just entertainment.
"Me too." said the girl in the corner. "I thought it wasn't harming anyone... I really thought it helped some people.... Gave them some hope or closure or something...." She began to cry.
"Us too." The couple to the right of me spoke up. "We talked about going clean for a while... or at least retiring. We don't want to keep up the lies anymore..." The grabbed each other hands.
"Then we'll all go clean." I said. "We'll admit it was all for entertainment, and we'll get out of the business of lying to people." I stood up on knocked on the glass. "We'll come out now, and we'll all publicly apologize for misleading people. Just let us out!"
A voice came over on the loudspeaker. "No."
There was silence for a few seconds.
"No." The voice repeated. "The rules were that ONE of you has to leave as the fake. We can't have all five leaving like that."
There was more silence.
"Our information is accurate. Four of you are true psychics. You'll just have to stay in there until you admit which four of you are real and which one is the true fraud."
I stood standing and looked at the group. Everybody looked truly astonished, eyes darted back and forth, mouths agape.
"I am pretty sure we're not psychic, please let us out now!" I yelled.
Silence.
"Well, uh... what number am I thinking of?" I asked the group. Everybody shrugged. I guess we would be here a while... | The man in the hat was pacing. He’d been pacing for 10 minutes, his left wrist gripped tightly in his right hand, 15 steps each way. Long slow steps that counted the seconds, 4 passes a minute and this was beginning to worm its way deep into my mind. In all the counting I had missed something. The red faced women had gone silent and I had over looked silence until she broke it. “Well we all know how this is going to end!”
We didn’t. None of us did.
So she was faking.
Pretty simple really. | 2015-08-23T12:38:40 | 2015-08-23T12:12:50 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] Just as the almighty villain is about to strike down the destined hero, they notice that said hero is only 15 years old. Disgusted, they demand to know who would force such a massive responsibility onto a child, and take it upon themselves to raise this kid as he should have been raised. | I'm not going to talk long about that time, the time when I was told that I hold a great destiny in my hand. There were so many different prophecies that even my teachers weren't sure which ones were correct. Of course, they had their favorites, and to be quite frank, one particular.
*You shall bring balance to the good and evil, by stopping the great evil when it most matters.*
Endless books, teachings, meditation, and boring lectures. Of course, I could have never said anything against it - it was my destiny.
That is when the time came, and I was sent off. I was praying that somebody would stop me, but nobody did. They all sent me off to be the destined hero I was supposed to be.
I never was and never will be.
"How old are you, kiddo?" the evil asked, who didn't look as evil as I had expected. He had a black suit on, brown hair, a tiny bit of beard. The only thing that was noticeable 'evil' was his red eyes.
"Fifteen," I said, looking the road with my empty eyes. All around us were destroyed, not that it mattered since everyone was evacuated already. I had tried everything, but nothing worked.
"Who in the hell would do that to you," the evil said, showing off disgust.
"You're evil, and destiny says that I need to stop you," I said. No, I never said that I told that they told me to say.
"What the fuck," red-eyes man said, taking out his sunglasses and putting them on - obviously to hide his eyes. "This is why I hate humanity. They do the craziest shit."
He looked at the time and frowned, openly. "Come. I'll teach you how to live."
"W-what?"
"Come."
And I did go. Maybe it was because I was always ordered around - or that's what I believed back then. The truth was - I hate my life, and I wanted to go. I wanted to be with someone who told me that he can give me something I have always wanted.
 
 
Years passed us, and I could tell you many great and wonderful stories. I learned a lot about humanity, how bad they are, but also some great stuff - mostly about how great food they can create.
Interestingly enough, the evil became a fantastic father to me. I was always asked what I thought, and often I was given what I asked or taken what I wanted to see. But not always. There were times I did something wrong, and he gave me a long talk. Yes, there were few times when I did something so horrible that I got a bit beaten up for it.
But I never felt that I was punished for no reason.
"Where are we going?" I asked one day.
"You're 18 now," the evil said, looking out of the window, sunglasses still hiding his eyes.
"Yes?"
"We are going where I took you, and it's time to part. You're an adult now. You need to start living your own life."
I hated that thought. I didn't want to leave him. He had become a father to me, someone I truly respected. When others called him evil, I never saw him that way. After all, everything depends on the matter of perspective. I saw more good in him than in most humans or humanity.
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
"I'm going to finish that I started," he said honestly. "I have seen how bad humans are. It's time to stop them, eradicate them."
"Why?" I asked him, again.
"Haven't you seen what they have done? You of all people should understand."
I looked at him and started to slowly shake my head. "You're not entirely wrong. There are those fuckers who I hate. Those who force something upon us that we hate, or don't deserve. There are those who do way more evil things than you.
"But like I changed, they can change. And they do good things too. Food, for example. It's not up to us to judge them."
The evil started to laugh. But It wasn't an evil laugh, it was more cheerful than anything. "Good. I've taught you well. I think you've really grown up." He leaned forward and started tousling my hair.
"I'm not a kid anymore," I said, protesting, but also smiled. "Don't do it, dad."
It was now when I noticed how tears started to flow down behind his sunglasses. "I won't. If that's what you ask, I won't."
---
/r/Elven - For more of my stuff. | Each stir at the broth came along with a shake of his head. How couldn't anyone see the stress weighing down on this poor kid's shoulders? Why did fate place such an lacking boy in such an important role?
It didn't make sense, and so Ferronyr stirred, making sure the broth was perfect for this confused youngling who once thought himself a hero. He was not. He was just a lost urchin who'd read too many stories, had armed himself with fake bravery, and had a long strike of fortune.
Ferranyr could've slaughtered him a year ago, that night when the capital blazed and burned and crumbled. But no, there was still some love and compassion in his rotten heart. And so he'd taken him under his wing, hoping to show him what a childhood really was.
Ferranyr gazed at the broth, nodded, and went to the kitchen. Ydrai, as the boy had called himself, was waiting idly on the chair. He was clad in white pajamas, and he was lost in the empty space in front of him.
"Here, Ydrai," Ferranyr said, "feast. And if all of it you finish, then you will earn a dessert."
Ydrai flashed a smile, and snatched the spoon beside him. Then, he devoured the soup as if he hadn't eaten in too long of a time. Which, wasn't the case at all.
Ferranyr's heart lilted with mirth as he witnessed splashes of broth smeared all over his adopted son's face. "A splash there," he said, pointing at Ydrai's cheek. "Two stains there. There's a lesson to learn in the food: if you devour the plate, make sure to not leave remnants. A dirty and poorly executed job is easy to spot."
"Yes, father," Ydrai said idly, and his eyes danced toward the floor, where they stood, as if ashamed.
"Now, the distant bells of slumber are calling," Ferranyr said, and patted his son's shoulder. "The dessert is in the kitchen, seek it if you please. I will leave now."
The silence hung, and Ferranyr left the room. He headed to his bed, where he closed his eyes and was immediately taken to better, more colorful worlds.
Where, from that night, he would forever dwell.
For Ydrai was sixteen, and a year was enough for his young mind to understand that naught could change who fifteen tortuous years had made of him.
However, Ferranyr had taught him a thing or two. But one of his favorites was when he could finally accept that cold blood murder is no different than traditional murder.
And so, as Ferranyr drowned on the blood gushing out his sliced throat, Ydrai stared, eating his dessert at a glacial pace.
It was messy, and quick, and easy to spot.
"Sorry, father."
---------------------------
/r/ahumongousfish | 2018-09-20T18:35:06 | 2018-09-20T18:11:25 | 120 | 35 |
[WP] You send your DNA off to discover your ancestry. One day you see several suspicious looking cars pull up outside your house. Military officers begin to surround your home and a woman gets out of one of the cars and walk straight to your front door. They have your DNA results. | Luna was sat down, the results of her dna test having been explained to her already. She waa frowning, trying to piece it together.
"That's impossible - there's no way it could be a perfect match," she explained to the woman and men in the suits before her. "For one, I have a vagina. Kinda need a Y chromosome to have a penis like he did." The woman coughed.
"Yes, well, there *is* a reason for that -" she pulled out a different folder. A medical folder. Luna grabbed it an dlipped through it for a moment, her jaw dropping at what she read. "From what is there, your parents felt that the information should be sealed. Permanently. Apparently an intersex child back then was quite the shame. My apologies." Luna felt tears welling up in her eyes, felt her age sink into her as she leaned back in her chair. Her parents had spent their entire life lying to her, and now that they were dead and buried it wasn't even like she could hold them accountable for it.
Not like she hadn't already danced on their graves when they died, those abusive bastards.
"So what, I had a twin? An identical twin that turned out to be the volunteer for some experiment with your department?" The woman nodded vigorously, clearly jittery from her nerves.
"It was during the Cold War - lots of secret experimentations went on. Have you seen the show *Stranger Things* on Netflix?" Luna shook her head. "Well, one of the characters - named Eleven - is an experimental child. Similar concept, but different." Luna just closed her eyes, soaking it all in.
"So what do you need me for." She asked. "What experiment do you want with me." The woman leaned forward.
"With your DNA being a perfect match for your twin brother's - we can send you to go and find him, and bring him back to us. You can save him." Luna gripped her skirt tightly.
She could have a real family. One she always wanted. "Where would I be going?"
"The French Revolution." Well fuck all kinds of ducks. | They Hand it over, and in it written is the long list of ancestors you had up to the long lost king of the Medafega, a lost and fallen kingdom in the pacific ocean, that due to inner conflicts and wars was left abandoned and lost in the time.
The Government had been looking for the latest descendant of the king of Medafega in an attempt to locate the kingdom. they had a comprehensive list of the lines of descendant up until the second world war, where the flies and records where mysteriously destroyed. you sir are the Last true Ancestor and the True Ruler of Medafega. | 2019-08-05T20:03:16 | 2019-08-05T16:31:10 | 49 | 18 |
[WP] Most ghosts have cool unfinished business: "Avenge my murder!" "Redeem my sins!" "Reveal my terrible secret!" Yours is...less impressive. But it still binds you to this world, and so you must find a medium who will help you. And not laugh when you tell them what with. | I sigh as I glance at the run down neon sign in the window. I mean, I would sigh if it actually did something. I'm a ghost so I don't really need to breathe but I'm getting sidetracked. Story of my life...and afterlife apparently.
The sign blinks and buzzes a little more than normal as I phase through it and the dirty window it's behind. The woman sitting at the desk looks up from her phone and stares right at my floating form.
"What the actual FUCK?!?" she says dropping her phone and scrambling out of the chair. She's a lot younger than most of these mediums I've gone to, trying to fix my problem. Maybe this one will actually get it done.
"Whoa, slow down there turbo. Obviously you can see me, which is a good thing. It means you can help me."
"Help you? What the hell are you? Is this some sort of goddamn prank?" she replies inching along the wall trying to put as much distance between me and her.
Another ghost sigh from me, "I'm an honest to gods ghost. A shade, wraith, phantom, specter, whatever the hell you wanna use. I have," I throw up the ol' ghost air quotes, "unfinished business and can't move to what's next til it's done. It's all really fucking cliche and I fucking hate it but hey, apparently those are the rules."
She stops moving away and tilts her head. Awesome, she's intrigued. This might actually work this time.
"What kind of unfinished business? Find your killer? Expose a family secret? Oh! Tell your significant other you'll love them forever and be there with them always?!? That's so romantic!!"
"Uhhhh no. None of that. And I never had a significant other which I guess in a weird way is tied to what I need your help with."
"So what then?"
I look down at the floor and grab the back of my neck. This is usually where it all goes south. I look up and try and give her my best puppy dog eyes. Fuck this is embarrassing still.
"I need you to find my laptop and delete my browser history." | I knew he wouldn't understand why I didn't come home. He would sit and wait and wait and no one would ever come to the door. He wouldn't even try to keep himself alive. Just holding on to the hope that I would come home. I couldn't let him waste away. But who would help? Who could I turn to? Who would even care? I only had one neighbor who even knew me.. They had a key to my house that I gave him a long time ago. With what little energy I had I scrawled a note on the wall and left the keys below it.. "please feed my dog." | 2022-07-15T09:55:01 | 2022-07-15T09:19:03 | 142 | 67 |
[WP] Modern art has reached new levels of absurdity, and you're at your first art exhibition. | "Excuse me, what are you doing here?"
The bearded man in flannel applauded me generously and the crowd of onlookers clapped on cue.
Perturbed, I folded my arms,
"Are you mute? Answer me!"
Again, the indolent hipster clapped, making an appreciative noise from deep within his carefully styled beard.
"Seriously, *get the fuck out of my house!*," I was snarling now; if I'd been a dog, my hackles would have been an inch high and my teeth bared.
Furious applause came from the disparate crowd of weirdos littered around my lounge and kitchen.
None of them showed any sign of moving.
Singling out one of the women in the room - who looked slightly saner than the others - I put my face in hers,
"Why are you here?"
She swallowed, then looked at the flanneled ringleader.
"Don't interact," he cautioned, "the piece must only respond with pure, unadulterated, genuine emotion."
Someone snapped a selfie with me.
"*Jesus fucking CHRIST!* GET OUT! All of you - or I'm calling the goddamn cops."
A couple of my unwelcome guests started going through the fridge and kitchen drawer.
"Please," cautioned the hipster curator, "don't take anything away from the exhibition. You can bid on items after its over."
My cellphone came out, I thumbed in the number for emergency services.
"Put me through to the police please - I have a home invasion."
The operator transferred me and the reassuring voice of a police officer greeted me,
"What seems to be the problem, ma'am?"
"There are about thirty strangers in my house and they won't bloody *leave!*"
"What's the address ma'am?"
I rattled it off, glaring at the onlookers, then smiling smugly.
"Ah. Alright. I see the problem; your house is scheduled to be the site of a performance art piece this evening."
"What?"
"All the paperwork has been done proper, filed with the council and the constabulary."
I was shaking now,
"But this doesn't make any *sense!* Why in hell wasn't I notified?"
The officer sniffed down the phoneline,
"Well, it would ruin the aesthetic, composition naunces of the artwork, innit?"
"The *what*?"
"Y'know, the juxtapositional elements in concert with the linear, unconscious focal biases that masterfully draw the art into a fusion of contemporary and performance?"
I paused, thinking.
"So, what you're saying is that this is an *art* thing and that anything that happens is an extension of the performance."
"Bingo!" said the officer brightly.
"Thanks," I said, hanging up.
Stalking into the kitchen I selected the largest, sharpest knife from the stainless steel block.
"Who wants to add to the overall aesthetic of the end of this cleaver?"
Very quickly, the house began to empty.
| Holding his glass of Chardonnay while with his fiance, Edward had trouble even identifying what he was looking out. People had been so enthusiastic while in line talking about the brilliance of this exhibit and how it expressed the 22nd century American plight of agrarian, urban, unrecognized musicians.
What Edward imagined would manifest to represent those things certainly wasn't this.
Before him and his fiance was the most recent addition to the Carmichael Gallery. It was nothing more than a hipster standing in front of them sipping on Intelligentsia coffee while talking about an album that no one had heard of. He was dressed like he was homeless. His hair was unkempt, his beard was a tangle. In the hand opposite the cup of coffee was the trust fund his parents had set up for himself.
Ed thought for a bit how ridiculous this all seemed. But when he looked at his loving fiance she was beaming. Tears glistening her eyes. She was prattling on and on about how beautiful this was.
This was the only thing to see at the gallery. Were all art galleries so boring? There was nothing here but vanity. Nothing was inspired. Nothing attempted to lift mankind out of the ordinary. No art there attempted to make men and women greater than they already are. Nothing here set us apart from the animals.
It was then that Ed realized he didn't understand. And he didn't understand his fiance. Ed turned around and left, and nobody noticed. | 2015-10-19T17:47:12 | 2015-10-19T17:36:03 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] So tell me this, elf. If you're so much better than humans at everything, then how come even though your ancient civilization dates back millenia before we "crawled out of the mud pits", you're still riding around on horses and swinging sharp pieces of metal just like us? | "So tell me this, elf. If you're so much better than humans at everything, then how come even though your ancient civilization dates back millennia before we 'crawled out of the mud pits', you're still riding around on horses and swinging sharp pieces of metal just like us?"
Jarila sped in front of the human, holding her sword to his throat. He didn't even see it coming. "This is why." Stepping back, because who wants to kill without a good fight, she sheathed her sword. "While you have spent most of your lives toiling under the sun, we studied combat for at least 5 times that long. The reason that we stayed with riding around on horses and swinging sharp pieces of metal, as you said, is because we elves, drow, and orcs are all very good at it."
"Unfortunately, your lifespan means that at combat you all are adequate at most. You'll never beat us at anything, especially not archery." The human sighed, shaking his head. "Of course you would say that. Every single one of you elves always think that every non-elf race is inferior—" Jarila cut him off, feeling her anger start to rise. "I never said that." He paid her no mind. "If you actually knew about us, you would know that we don't need to beat you at archery or swordplay."
"What do you even know about combat?!" The elf was starting to lose her temper. This inferior creature before her was just another thorn in her side. She wanted to kill the human, but she was too angry to focus. "You know nothing about killing an elf! The only times we lost our kind to yours was because they were weak or they stumbled! You have nothing that can kill an elf as you're confronting them face to face!"
**BANG.** Jarila felt something rip through her chest. No sword was drawn, so she was confused. Placing a hand on her heart, she noticed her hand came away bloody. "W-what....did you do...?" It was only too late when she saw the man's pepperbox revolver in his hand. "I told you we didn't need to beat you at archery or swordplay." She staggered back, soon collapsing as her legs couldn't support her. As her vision faded, she saw the man's smirk as he crouched over her. And his smirk was the last thing she saw before her vision faded to a dark nothingness and she died. | Vander look at the bandits.
It wasn’t that hard to see all the weak points in their crude armor and weapons. All of it was cheap crap even by the low standers of human chaos worshippers.
Plus, all of the bandits had gotten intoxicated after capturing the inquisitor so they would be slower than normal.
A thrust here, and strike there, and each bandit would either die or be disabled to be interrogated latter by the inquisition.
It was the easier thing in the world to undo the knots and rope binding him without them noticing.
This is isn’t the first time Vander had played this game to get to the intelligence he wanted.
It was almost getting boring.
But he had to admit, he still did love this next part.
“Let me show you…” | 2022-09-04T09:14:44 | 2022-09-04T07:17:47 | 261 | 32 |
[WP] The death sentence is an actual sentence that when spoken will instantly kill someone.
Inspired by [this comment.](http://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/1w4n7l/what_misconception_did_you_have_as_a_child_that/ceyo995) | Most of the time, everyone knew who it would be. A jealous lover, a cheated business associate, an abused partner.
Sometimes it made no sense. In one case, it ended up being the Convicted's mailman. In the saddest case, it was a Convicted business man's seven year old daughter. They waited, of course, held him on death row until she was eighteen. On the morning of her birthday she requested the earliest possible appointment. She told him to go to hell, whispered in his ear, and he was gone.
Seems like I'm always on the road these days. Some of these people do not want to be found. Some of them don't want to see the inside of a prison again, some just don't want to face what they have to do. No one really knows why anyone gets Chosen. They always know the Convicted and they always have a stake in the Convicted's life.
There's an outstanding case, solved but not resolved, because no one can find the Chosen. Convicted's a homeless man, 76, from southern California. Far as I can tell, everyone who once had a stake in his life is either dead or has forgotten about him. He killed his only friend over a ham sandwich. Pushed him a little too hard, a little too close to a passing bus and *squish*. The old guy cried so hard at his trial. Once the sentence came down he just looked curious. At least now he gets three hot meals and a shower every day.
I'm not pressing myself too hard to close that one. Dog can have it; it's standard pay and a long fucking drive in a beat up old Camry. The penal system wants a free cell but no one else has a stake in it. Not worth it in the least. Not like this case; a man beats a beautiful girl to death and happens to be a Washington State Senator all at the same time. Should have people chomping at the bit to put this guy in the ground. The fact that no one's come forward in two weeks means that I could make rent for a few months if I track it down. I wonder what the words will be? They always mean something to the Convicted and the Chosen. Maybe this one will be government secrets. Secret mob info? It's always possible the Chosen won't tell me.
Some people believe that the words themselves have power. Superstitious bullshit. I've heard plenty of people's last words, you might say, and I'm still alive. Some of the Chosen don't want to tell me, I suspect some of the words are shameful. Most are just private. Some people scream them in the Convicted's face, others make a private call from the adjoining room. One way glass is the only comfort for those people. They have to be able to see the Convicted for the words to work but we can save them from being recognized.
We don't know why the words have power. We do know there's no power without the Chosen. I searched for four months to find a woman who begged me to say them for her. I told her I would give it a try just to get her to come with me. I'm not proud but a man's gotta get paid.
No one knows how the message gets to the Chosen. Everyone I've tracked down said the same thing. *I just knew.* Sometimes it would come to them in a dream, while working out, cleaning, or mediating. One guy said, "You know how one line of a trendy pop song plays on loop until you distract yourself? It's like that but it plays until you kill someone."
It's no wonder the busniess man's daughter wanted to get it over with asap. That one line in your head for 11 years? It would make anyone anxious to get it over with.
Honestly, I'm not sure where I'm going to look for this one. I looked into his entire extended family and all of his co-workers. There is not one person I spoke to so far that wouldn't love the self-importance and the good press being Chosen would bring. I'm driving from Olympia to Portland more to get away from these slimy politician types than anything. It's possible the Senator's sister is the Chosen but her husband would have told me if he knew. Started asking about making up a press release and finding a lawyer as soon as I identified myself. I told him we could discuss it when I got there.
I really should have replaced the radio in my car. Some punk smashed my window and stole it while I was following a lead in the International District. I've got a song in my head and I can't quite put my finger on it. Catchy line, though. *It was just a sandwich, let it go. It was just a sandwich, let it go.*
Fuck.
Looks like I'm going to California, after all. | There she was. My companion. She stared at me with utter contempt. She didn't tolerate me any longer. Now that I was on top of her with my hand on her throat, well, that changes your perspective. I remember when we used to go to the park. We'd feed the pigeons, the ducks, languish in their supplication while they begged for a fragment of our abundance. Pathetic. But alas, such is life.
I had a dog once that I bought for my offspring. Damn thing ran into the street and got hit by a fire containment vehicle. I laughed. So did he. Those lower animals can be so unbelievably stupid. I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. She tolerated that dog...I did not. It was a Chihuahua after all. I hate useless dogs. I hate useless things...but she doesn't. At least I don't think so.
She....she tolerated me. And I tolerated her. But not since we found that damn cave. It's so damn hot out here though. I hate it. But we had to find shade. I wanna go back inside, but just being around the words makes me crazy. She won't let me.
Dammit I'm thirsty.
She wasn't acting like this until we found the words. I'd never seen them before...well I recognized some of the figures. The words...they make you so crazy. Crazy with....with.....I don't know. I don't think there's a word for it. All I know is I can't think straight. I don't know how much longer I can fight the urge to say them. I don't tolerate her anymore. We were good for each other. Complimentary. Before this, everything was normal. But now....the words. I don't know what they mean, it's some dead language mixed with English, but I can feel that she wants to say them to me. It's almost palpable. She's so stupid. She believes them to be benign. But I can't let her say them. It's either her or me now. The picture told me all I need to know about the inscription. Those words are evil. A heart pierced by an arrow. Death comes from those words. I don't care how much I tolerate her, she won't outlive me, she's just a companion. She's just a tool. And my offspring will understand that wholly.
I straddling her and grabbed her by the throat, covering her mouth and holding her down. I looked into her eyes with equal contempt and said the words: "I love you."
She died.
I was correct.
Pathetic. But such is life. You start to die at birth and then, at some point, you die.
I hated her now. Those words, for some reason they twisted my thoughts. I tolerated her once and saying the words made a tinge of that toleration rekindle in my mind, but it was just a memory. I had to get back. Back to the living unit. Back to my offspring. I tolerate him. And he tolerates me. I will never use these words again. They are too dangerous. And I will die with them. | 2014-01-25T19:09:43 | 2014-01-25T19:00:59 | 28 | 10 |
[WP] The alien diplomat showing you their planet directs your gaze to an ancient relic. "Here are the oldest known markings on our world, we still don't know what they represent". You are horrified, as what appear to be meaningless scribbles to them, is a desperate cry for help in your own tongue. | The search had been long and desperate. Cal could not tell anyone what he was looking for, as there was a good chance they would have questions, and not like his answers.
This was Cal's 14th planet, and the locals were very happy to see him. They rarely got travelers at this point in their development, so when another species came through, they liked to roll out the red carpet. While Cal was not used to this kind of notoriety as he investigated, he was the kind of person who made the best of a situation.
"And this here is the Grand Garden of Huznebenarczaid" said the diplomat. "That was the second archway there built after the fall of Melejarsu, some of the original stones are still intact over twenty-nine thousand months later" he said with delight. The delegation was walking him through a historically preserved site important to the local religion.
"Twenty-nine thousand months, that is very impressive." said Cal. He tried to think what he was doing back then, probably sleeping statistically. Doing the math on rotations and time dilation was too much for him right now, the delegation was wearing him down.
"Yes, especially given the history of this site." said the diplomat. "The majority of the building was destroyed during the holy wars of Dihnum and Torosraz. Alas, to many great holy sites have been lost to this land through the years.
"Truly tragic." said Cal, expressing a remorseful look. "This is all truly fascinating, to see what last through the ages. Is this the oldest piece you have?." Cal was Bored to tears and needed to wrap this up, he was used to traveling the stars for thousands of years at a time, but this was insufferable.
"No," ejaculated the alien, "the oldest artifact we have is of course the Pillar of Gashgilem. It is the holiest site in both Dihnumism and the Torosrazi religions, and we estimate it to be perhaps up to eighty-thousand months old."
Cal's eyebrow twitched up, that caught his attention. "Can I see it?" he asked quickly
"It may be a tight squeeze this time of day, with all of the tourist traffic," the diplomat pondered, "but considering you are our guest of honour, i'm sure arrangements can be made."
As they entered the hall, Cal noticed the last of a congregation being shooed out the back door. The diplomat proceed to lead him to the center of the room, where, down a few steps, lied a pillar made of solid marble.
"This is the oldest discovery, we estimate, on the whole planet." said the diplomat. Its perfect cut and formation would suggest it was made with far better tools than anyone could produce at the time, but our dating has been confirmed accurate. We have no idea how it was made." he said with an excited glee.
Call began walking around the pillar, taking it all in, until he stopped and stared at one spot.
"Ah yes, the carvings." said the diplomat. "Prophets have twisted thoses scribbles as long as they have been up there, saying it was prophesied doom, or the true word of a god. What nonsense people can make out of scratches."
Cals face was still, he was trembling slightly and tears had begun to form in his eyes. "I'd like to leave now." he said. Cal made his way to his ship and boarded as fast as possible. He started up the engines and blasted off into space. He had a few thousand years of relativistic travel ahead of him, and a few words to haunt him.
*im sorry dad*
*the engine started and i couldnt stop it*
*please help me*
*they're hurting me* | I walked along with the Árniņõ diplomat on a road, along the way we had a talk about our cultural difference, with the help of a translator.
There were supposed to be two translators, but mine was preoccupied with being dead, that idiot tripped on his own life support system, and it is locked on his head like a cap that is too tight. I have no idea it is even possible to take it off without tools on purpose, nevermind accidentally.
We stopped at a oddly shaped building, 'It is probably because of the gravity' I thought to myself. The diplomat spoke and then translator, "This is an ancient building, we have no idea how or why it was built, but we do know that it was built in the post light age." 'What a hideous build.' I keep my thought in my stomach, and replied, "What a marvellous build."
As we walk inside, the diplomat showed me a lot of things. "One theory suggest that this building is for the kingdoms then to show off their technological advancement,"the diplomat said, "since it is almost the same time when everyone focused on technology instead of fighting each other, but the the closest kingdom to here is about 60 kjuen away. Another theory suggest that..."
I was distracted by some random markings. I went for a closer look. It was not random. The scribbles were, 'The code to the gate is 3967. Run for your life, and beware of the Öggrıans.' Öggrıans went extinct in the Great Great War, which they lost, obviously. The humans took a huge set back, but was able to bounce back. 'So this is a human spaceship?' I was confused by the writing, 'Wait did I just mind insulted human architects?'
The diplomat was standing behind me. I apologised, "Sorry, but these 'symbols suggests that this is a spaceship from the Great Great War."
----This-Is-A-Divider---
Well I don't have time right now, so part 2 later | 2021-04-23T00:46:54 | 2021-04-22T23:21:25 | 76 | 33 |
[WP] The fastest ship in the galaxy isn't a military Corvette or a ribbon-winning racing vessel. It's the ambulance that the human paramedic team operates. | EDIT: WHEW thanks for the warm welcome r/WritingPrompts. Don't hold your breath but I suspect you'll be seeing more of me.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
First time posting here and sci-fi is absolutely not my genre, but whatever. Please be nice XD
​
"Boss! I got something on the scanners!"
About fuckin' time, thought Captain Zurgleflorp. They'd been sitting in this ultraspace channel for hours waiting fruitlessly. Admittedly, it wasn't a heavily used channel, but that just made it better suited for entrepreneuring folks like them.
He wandered over to the bridge where his First Mate was sitting. There was no hurry, them scanners were state-of-the-art, it would be five cycles before the target came into range.
"Okay Fliggledeez, what've we got?"
"I dunno cap'n."
"What do you mean you dunno. I don't pay you to dunno."
"I can't get a proper lock on it. The picture's all wonky."
The Captain sighed, Fliggledeez was a few antennae short of a dozen sometimes, and a couple of tentacles short on top of that too from time to time.
"Alright, just let me take a peek."
When his subordinate pushed the display his way, what the Captain saw made all of his many mouths drop open.
"Are those... WHEELS?"
"Aaaah that's what they are, I couldn't figure it out. Good one Cap'n."
"And a flashing light on top? Must be some rich Banananakalaxian with more money than sense."
"Custom stuff'll always sells well." Fliggledeez remarked, rubbing three tentacles together with glee.
Captain Zurgleflorp allowed rare grins to spread across several of his mouths, "Hoist the Roger! To stations! Prepare to intercept you load of salty doglings! You've got a payday to earn!"
As he turned away to take control of the wheel, something caught the corner of one of his eyes.
"Have you reported that malfunctioning ultraspace measuring stick to the engineer Fliggledeez?"
"It's malfunctioning?"
"Are you blind? It's saying that ship is nearly upon us alr..." He didn't bother finishing, the reading had changed. Whatever it was had just shot straight past them. What in the cosmos was that?
"Uh Captain, do you feel that?"
He did, and it didn't help his confusion. The hull was beginning to vibrate, too quietly to make out. Wait no, it was growing, his antennae were beginning to pick up the sound...
neeeeeee nawwwwwwwwww
"Is that..."
The words had barely left his mouths when it came again, louder.
NEEEEEEEE NAWWWWWWWWWWW
His eyes all opened wide, he knew what this was.
NEEEEEEEE NAWWWWWWWWWWW
He'd thought it was a legend.
NEEEEEEEE NAWWWWWWWWWWW
The vessel so fast it left soundwaves strong enough to exist in the void of space.
NEEEEEEEE NAWWWWWWWWWWW
The monster the humans created and crewed, that spread chaos in it's efforts to preserve life.
NEEEEEEEE NAWWWWWWWWWWW
He only prayed that his ship would be able to withstand its wake, but he doubted it.
NEEEEEEEE NAWWWWWWWWWWW
Of all things to end his reign as the most feared pirate in the seventh quadrant, he had to fall to the damned AMBULANCE. | Sorry mobile.
———
Have seen of ducking fast that thing drives?! At first you just see it intent if you for a fraction of a fraction of a nanosecond, and then it is gone. Some time after you can hear the flying past you, trying to catch up, which it won’t until it stops.
Alright I get it, it is fast, but what I don’t get is how they can control that thing. They are humans, beings who couldn’t manage light speed travel with it help. What’s more, they haven’t even had the technology for more than a month, and yet they have surpassed all of our vehicles, and can maneuver all tracks that have been impossible for us.
Yeah, it’s insane.
Oh, by the way, you never mentioned what type of vehicle it is. All I know is what you and the tracks scoreboard tells me.
It is an ambulance.
Haha, no but seriously?
It is an ambulance.
Just tell me dammit.
It is an ambulance.
ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT THE VEHICLE THAT HAS AN IMMEASURABLE TOP SPEED, UNBELIEVABLE TIRE GROUP AND ALMOST UNLIMITED POWER SUPPLY IS A GOOD DAMN AMBULANCE?!!
Yup. It is an ambulance alright.
At least tell me it is controlled by an A.I. or something.
Nope, just normal humans.
Huma- *faints*
Dude, you okay? I’ll call an ambulance.
*A few seconds later*
*Ok sir, we are sending one now!*
Out of nowhere an ambulance arrives, and stepping out is what appears to be humans. They point to my poor fainted friend, and I just nod, before fainting myself. However, just before I faint I hear in the distance what sounds like sirens, and then it all fades to black.
———
If anything is wrong in the text, I blame autocorrect and you, the person who are reading this. | 2019-11-10T13:48:28 | 2019-11-10T13:46:55 | 1,282 | 80 |
[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed. | *Tap, tap, tap...*
I wasn't even fully awake when I first heard the noise. It crept into my subconscious and there was nothing at all but the tapping and endless, grasping darkness.
*Tap, tap, tap...*
It took me a moment to realise that I was in my bed and that the darkness was merely a result of closed eyelids and the late hour. Nothing menacing or alarming about it. I rolled over and pulled the duvet a little higher and prepared to drift back off.
*Tap, tap, tap...*
Wait, if I was awake then what was the tapping? It didn't sound like rain, too singular and muffled. I blinked open my eyelids and to my alarm saw that there was a human at the end of my bed. The tapping stopped.
"Good, you're up." A female voice said.
I considered my options. There was no way to attempt to leave the room without going straight past the mysterious woman. I didn't exactly have any weapons to hand. I decided to plead ignorance.
"Look, take anything you want. You don't have to hurt me, I haven't even seen your face, s-"
"I can fix that." The figure interrupted and flicked the light switch.
*No!* I thought before light flooded the room and my night got altogether weirder.
The person in front of me wasn't human. I knew this not because of her violet hair, that could have been dyed, or even because of her strange but *almost* human proportions. I knew that this woman wasn't a human because that was not the backstory I had written for her.
"Elellania." I whispered.
Elellania was a powerful psychic turned space pirate. She could be a decent mechanic when necessary and a terrifying fighter on occasion but the thing that she could never, ever be was real. So how was she standing in my bedroom?
"Get up." Elellania ordered.
I complied awkwardly, wishing I was wearing something more flattering than pyjamas in need of a wash. Elellania was the version of myself I wished I could be. I would never admit that if asked but with her standing here I was bowled over by how obvious it was that I created this character to fix things about myself that were lacking. She was an assertive badass to counter my indecisive tendencies, string where I was weak, beautiful where I - OH CRAP SHE CAN HEAR THESE THOUGHTS.
"Yes," Elellania said in response to my internal monologue, "I don't care. Come with me."
I should have thoroughly considered the possibility that I was still dreaming but instead, I was excited. One of my favourite fictional characters out of my novel (and a half) had appeared and needed my help. I was only too eager to follow her but to my disappointment Elellania led me not out of my front door but into my tiny home office.
"Boot up the laptop." She ordered.
I poked the power switch and then waited awkwardly for the system to start.
"What do you want from me?" I asked.
Elellania looked right into my eyes and her stare was exactly as piercing as I'd written it.
"I want you to write. Open the new novel."
I typed in my password and then opened the document which contained the new third of a novel (but definitely half a novel when I'm talking to my publisher). I waited expectantly.
"Right." Elellania said. "I don't care how you do it, but Ki'vah lives."
"What? No! See, Ki'vah has to die in order for the ship's Astral Engine to gain a second surge of life. Without his death, the ship would have drifted without power into the seventh sector and ultimately the entire galaxy would be destroyed. Not to mention, readers generally say that the romance between Elellania and Ki'vah would have been doomed to failure anyway as they never would have fallen in love under normal circumstances! And even disregarding all of this - Ki'vah died last book. I couldn't change it now even if I want to. Which. I. Don't."
I sat up straighter, somehow forgetting how ridiculous this whole situation is.
"How did you even get here?" I asked.
To my surprise, Elellania left the room and gestured for me to follow.
"Pit gave me- well, I guess you gave me. Anyway, you gave me an artefact which is believed to allow 'travel between any realms.' Guess what? Turns out it does."
She stepped to the side and I saw a glimmering, shifting gateway in my kitchen. My legs went wobbly and a very annoyed main character pulled me up before I could really fall.
"See that there? That is a plot hole. I had something that could travel between realms and I needed an escape. I turn up in this world and I find a frankly ridiculous drawing of me on a book cover in one of your stores. I mean, was that the chest you wished I'd actually have? Ugh. Anyway, I found the book, you gave me excellent psychic powers since day one and so I used my new toy to come and find you."
Elellania led me roughly back to my office.
"I've gone to a lot of trouble to find you. If necessary, I will go to similar lengths to ensure that every one of your secrets is told to your family, friends and enemies. So bring him back."
I tapped my fingers nervously, touching the keyboard too lightly to actually type.
"I'm sorry but I really can't. I described his death and that book has already been published."
To my surprise, Elellania actually laughed at this.
"You *can't?*" she mocked. "Marie, on this plane of existence there aren't any psychics at all yet I come from an ancient lineage of them. Your spaceships can't even leave the galaxy and yet my second-hand junker can traverse universes. There are a million impossibilities in my world compared to yours, coming back from death isn't impossible."
She was right. Technically, I could write whatever I wanted.
"I'm going to leave you with a choice. I'll return to my world, for now at least. Then you can either leave Ki'vah dead, and remain true to what your fans think is right. Or, you can resurrect him, and do what I, and therefore you, think is right. But choose the former and I *will* come back to ruin you."
I thought about this.
"I could write it so I'm safe either way."
Elellania grinned.
"Could you though? You sure as shit didn't write this."
She removed her left earring and placed it carefully on my desk and with that, she left. I stared at the earring, the only proof that she'd actually been here, until natural light started to pour through the cracks in the curtains. I considered my options.
And with that, I started to type. | \[Norilsk, Siberian Bunker - Former Russian Federation 2066.\]
"General Karov, What you are speaking of is madness!" the vaguely Russian advisor gasped while slowly reaching for his holstered revolver.
"You will betray me too Yuri? like so many have before?" Karov remarks while looking out through a blast proof window to see a seemingly endless field of damaged planes from a recent armed conflict.
Yuri draws his gun and aims it at Karov. "This is for Moscow, and all of mankind" The advisor opens fire as three rounds find their mark deep in the chest of the tyrannical despot. As the blood stained uniformed hit the ground with the metallic bang from self given military medals a faint laugh is heard from a dying Karov.
Karov: "To little........to...late"
Yuri walks over to the injured general and sees he's gripping a familiar object. "NO NO NO..." As he franticly tries to look away both Karov and Yuri are sent through time and space to seemingly random locations.
Well that's a good ending to chapter 9, Makena says to herself while closing the google doc on her computer. She gets up from her desk and approaches her Keurig coffee machine, while selecting the option of a medium hot mocha she gazes outside of her small studio apartment in Brooklyn.
Makena: "shit five years in college to become a writer and I'm still barely making it by. my mom was right, I should have just married that rich guy from high school." She turns her view away from her newest bank statement on the counter.
As she showers a thought catches her mind, perhaps she can ask the local newspaper if they need any freelance work done. After finishing up in the bathroom, changing into pajamas she returns to bed to find her window slightly open. A brief moment of confusion passes as she grabs a golf club and stealthily makes her way into her lit kitchen. Where she is met with a mysterious figure sitting at her desk with it's feet up while chugging back on a bottle of fancy white wine.
"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE!" Makena screams while pointing her golf club out in a forward position mimicking a rapier.
The unamused figure takes a swig of wine before revealing himself to be Yuri. "For someone that wrote a fictional character with a borderline alcoholic trait I'd assume you'd have a better taste in liquor. What is this anyway, Oaked Chardonnay? Yuri says while reading the side of the bottle.
Makena sets the end of the golf club down while still holding the handle tightly. "It was on sale and it's just for occ.....wait why am I defending myself.... WHO ARE YOU!"
Yuri sets the bottle down while pulling out his wallet with a Russian ID card. "I'm FSB triple agent Yuri Brez."
Makena drops the golf club as shock freezes her in place.
Makena: "you...you... your a fictional character,... how is this possible."
Yuri: "A fascinating story we unfortunately don't have time for, you read the NYT paper this morning?" He askes while sliding it across the kitchen counter.
Makena looks at the front page as a picture of a young Russian general is shown amassing soldiers on the Ukrainian border. her confusion is interrupted by Yuri "Russian government set to cede more judicial power to General Alexey Karov following his successful border skirmish against Ukrainian forces last week"
Makena: "that's just... weird, I don't understand.
Yuri: \*lighting up a ciguar\* " Remind me, Makena. In your novel, where I'm from...... what event leads to the destruction of my planet?"
Makena: "the.... the dead mans switch nuclear protocol"
Yuri: "correct, now what events lead to the use of the dead mans switch nuclear protocol?"
Makena: \*her eyes widen as she struggles to maintain composure while pouring herself a cup of wine\* "The event that led to the use of the nuclear protocol was.... the Second Russian Civil War"
Yuri: "correct...... now what event would lead to the social and global conditions that caused this civil war?" Yuri walks to an open kitchen window and tosses his cigar out after only a few puffs.
Makena: \*sitting in a chair at this point\* "The second Russian civil war is the final stage of the Third World War"
Yuri: "Once again you are correct, now wh..." yuri is interrupted by Makena
"The third world war is a result of a decade long escalation in the Russo-Europa War of 2024." Makena says while dropping the empty bottle on the floor.
Yuri: "And.... how does the Russo-Europa war start?"
Makena: "A rouge Russian general invades the Ukraine and upon ceding control over to the Moscow government he is elected by the state duma as chief General before eventually becoming a de facto totalitarian dictator using emergency war time powers"
Yuri: "and finally, what was the name of that de facto totalitarian dictator that is responsible for all these conflicts, escalations and wars?"
Makena: "Alexey Karov"
Yuri hands Makena a plane ticket to Moscow, upon seeing her confusion he relents "Pack your things, we're going to Russia." | 2021-12-11T19:23:40 | 2021-12-11T17:41:14 | 160 | 61 |
[WP] World Peace has been achieved and the first crime in centuries has been committed.
EDIT: I've been reading a lot of these prompts throughout the day and they have all been really good, sadly I don't have the time to sit and read them all :( | "So, we're all here today to judge Mr. Holland." Judge Carver paused, and then finished with, "Right?"
The hesitation came from the fact that in the 27 years Arnold Carver had been a judge, he had never been in a trial. It's not like he was lazy though, nobody had gone to trial in the last 383 years! Not since, in a final necessary act of violence, the last member of the last rebellion was hanged. Yet, here in a dusty, untouched courtroom, he stood to pass judgement on this apparent criminal.
Judge Carver turned to face the jury, it was difficult because the robe he wore was itchy and clung at his feet in a way he wasn't used to. It also smelled like mothballs. "Uh... So I think you guys are gonna hear a couple uh... Testaments?" A handful of the jury nodded while the rest looked dazed. "And then you're going to confer, and tell me if he's guilty, yeah? So, let's get this underway!"
A man stepped forward, it was the plaintiff's lawyer. "Yesterday, a transgression of the law occurred. My client, Mrs. North, was gardening, as we all do from time to time," Judge Carver could tell the lawyer had been waiting a long time for this, which was good because somebody needed to be enthusiastic, this whole affair was too quiet and dull. "When the accused attacked her, causing her serious injury and mental anguish." The jury looked at Mrs. North, who honestly, didn't look very hurt. "What transpired was a heinous act of unwarranted and unjust violence!"
After a few seconds of silence, Judge Carver realized the lawyer was finished talking. He coughed awkwardly and turned to face the accused. "Did you do that?" He asked Timothy Holland.
In broken, stuttered, malformed and slurred English, Timothy responded with. "Yes I did, sir. My mom and dad said honesty is good."
Judge Carver, put on his best judgement face, and then lost it halfway. Instead he just shook his head and turned to the jury. "What do y'all think?" There was a murmur from the sixteen people in the booth. Everyone seemed to be trying to figure out what they were doing. Finally someone broke free of it and stood.
"Is this really necessary?" He said. "I mean, Mrs. North was hit by a stick. Twice. By a four year old. Doesn't this seem petty?"
Judge Arnold thought about this. It absolutely did. He looked at Mrs. North, who did look like a mean old bat. And he looked at Timothy, who looked like a snot nosed kid. This whole thing was, indeed, a farce. Now was his time to act, he would pass judgement.
"Mrs. North, you really ought to get some perspective, this is a very small matter. This amazing period of peace we've enjoyed is kept together because we've stopped being petty. Are you really going to push for that to change all because you're bored?" Mrs. North grumbled in her seat. She looked like she wanted to rebut, but she held her tongue. "And Timothy. Don't hit people with sticks." The small blonde boy bowed his head and nodded. "Alright guys, can we go home? Do we really need to make anything out of this? Sheesh."
With an awkward shuffling about, everyone got up and left. Judge Carver went home, and laid about, there really wasn't much else to do.
Edit: I suck at court stuff | For the first time in 371 years the Probability Engine failed to catch a crime before it happened. Scientists across the world united to create the perfect crime stopper. The entire moon was repurposed into a giant satellite. With the most powerful supercomputer ever made. At the helm sat an AI they called Nolan.
It linked itself with every other satellite to monitor the planet. No matter where you were on Earth. Nolan was watching and computing the probability of a crime happening. Weather, body temperature, stress levels, traffic, poverty and any variable you can think of. Nolan observed everything with the help of robots that replaced the planets police forces. If any variable looked out of balance, Nolan sent it's bots to temporarily relocate whatever individual was most likely to cause a problem. For centuries the system worked perfectly. Nolan put certain variables in specific prisons depending on their current threat levels. If some of those people never made it back into society it was overlooked. Isn't world peace worth it, whatever the cost?
For 371 years, Nolan kept the world running smoothly. Until one day it didn't. The first crime was completely unexpected. News stations around the world jumped on the story of a lifetime. The body of what appeared to be a homeless man. Long, ragged hair, naked and a scar going around his skull in a perfect circle. Cause of death seemed to be that he bled out. There were holes in his wrists and ankles like something had been ripped out. It was a sensation. Who was this man and where did he come from? Who was able to commit a crime while avoiding Nolan?
The next day the coroner who performed the autopsy was declared missing, along with the body of the homeless man. The intern spent days going through the coroner's notes. Only to find a printed photograph of what appeared to be a bar code branded into someone's skin. As the intern headed to the office the next morning. A Nolan bot labeled him a variable and he was never seen again. | 2015-11-01T08:41:52 | 2015-11-01T08:32:38 | 210 | 66 |
[WP] In a new TV game show contestants must jump into a wormhole that drops them into a random point in time where they must survive for longer than the other contestants. You've just been dropped in the worst possible place. | This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and John was going to grab it. He had always been a quitter, and couldn't remember the last time he had provided any important task his full attention. His grades in school were average at best, and his wedding vows were generic only because he was distracted by talkshow reruns he didn't much care for. This time however was going to be different.
John's wife had left him, and in the aftermath he was unable to keep his job. The game show had showed up at just the right time, and John saw it as a much needed fresh start. He signed up straight away, and his newfound resolve was the reason his application was accepted.
The two months leading up to the jump John worked harder than he ever had. He worked harder than any other of the contestants. This was his whole life now. Much of the time a camera crew had been following along, but he soon forgot about them, and could barely remember being present in the interviews as he was constantly thinking about the journey ahead and what he needed to learn. If he ended up in the wilderness he knew how to live off the land, and if he ended up in a strange civilization he knew how to make himself useful without being burned as a witch or a devil. He had a solid grasp on history, and was as physically fit as he had ever been. He had packed light, but with what he had with him and the skills he had acquired lately he could survive anywhere, anytime.
John was not nervous. He was going to leave this world behind, and even though the whole world was watching, he would soon be on his own. The spotlights were warm enough to bring even the calmest contestants to a sweat, and John could barely see the audience. His hand was resting on the button; anxious to leave his current life behind as the countdown approached.
"Press the bu..."
John was the first one to leave. For a moment he felt like in a freefall. The studio was gone, but there was not yet anything to replace it. His head was light, and oxygen was irrelevant. The real world came back, first as a disorienting pressure on John's body, then the familiar feeling of having his feet firmly planted on the ground, and lastly the sound of a stampeding buffalo herd headed straight for him. | "This has got to be hell" I told myself after exiting the wormhole. There were ashes all over the streets, everything was dilapidated and the people looked as though they hadn't had a decent nights rest or a hot meal in years. In the distance all I could hear were the roaring flames of burning store fronts, police sirens, and gun fire. Couldn't ask anyone where or when it was, they would have thought I was crazy. Well actually, would they? The place seems fucked up enough. Then I spotted a store that wasn't entirely destroyed with a news stand inside, so I grabbed the first paper I saw
DETROIT DAILY
July 23, 1967
| 2016-07-24T13:19:16 | 2016-07-24T13:01:04 | 51 | 22 |
[WP] Humanity has been eradicated. As the alien race that killed us begins to settle they're shocked to discover that old Earth myths of spirits and demons are far from fiction. The Devil, pissed off at the aliens, has decided to open the gates of Hell and let humanity get its revenge. | “You said you came in peace.”
Beelzebub laughed. The sound was a booming roar with the force of a hurricane that could have toppled the walls of Jericho. And indeed, somewhere behind them, one of mankind’s ruins which had outlasted its makers toppled in a landslide of brick, steel, and concrete.
“I said we came with terms, alien filth.” Beelzebub raised his axe, relishing the souls freshly reaped by its edge. “Now you know we’re serious.”
The aliens had descended in legions. They had dared soil the Dark Lord’s chosen playground thinking their petty armaments would be enough. Now they twitched at the malicious inflection in Beelzebub’s sword. To lesser beings, they might have been menacing. They had come armed with energy blades capable of flaying mind from body, and grenades capable of ripping holes in reality. Cosmic horrors they had brought on leashes, which in battle had shied and bolted before Beelzebub’s truer horror. They carried munitions which pierced through time itself. Guns which distorted reality. It was all vanity; all nonsense. This boastful grandeur amounted to nothing before the demons and revenants Beelzebub had brought with him, for only faith could defeat them. And what faith did aliens hold which deserved anything but the demons’ contempt?
All of it was vanity, sheer vanity. Beelzebub had but one regret: that he had not known such pathetic creatures existed before the war began. What easy wretches they would have been to deceive and to tempt, given their fascination with the material. And how delicious their souls must have tasted.
The ghosts of mankind rippled at the thought. A teeming sea, behind Beelzebub, in the millions. He had once thirsted for the oblivion of final judgement, and battle against heaven’s legions, and a reckoning between Heaven’s chosen children and those it had rejected.
Then these things had come and stolen it all out from under his hooves.
The tortured spirits teetered and tottered, restless. Shackled by the burden of earthly sin and woes. Carrying crosses to symbolize their suffering and their guilt. The humans’ souls were separate from god, but joined to vengeance. Most of them had met their end at the hands of this alien rabble from the abyssal heavens. If there was one joy their gaolers would concede to them, it was this final, singular pleasure: revenge. Suffering was a saccharine, sweet thing. No matter where it came from.
Beelzebub’s words had clearly made an impression on the aliens’ marshal: a googly-eyed, capricious thing, its only faith in gauss weaponry. If only the fool knew all its troops really needed was some good iron and holy water.
Time to end this. “My master Satan, Lord of all which you see, has dispatched forty-times-four legions of my kind. These revenants, they are his flock. We demons, we are his hounds. If you do not come to my master’s table to bargain for your mercy, we will smoke you from this world. We will burn you. And those who run will see the stars bathe in their blood.”
One of the closest aliens, the marshal’s bodyguard, vomited in her suit. Beelzebub’s mere presence was revolting to all things of life, much more to those without Grace. The creature sauntered away, her eyestalks soiled with mucus, embarrassed and fearful.
“How do we know we can trust your master?” the alien marshal asked. Perhaps he hoped Beelzebub would’t understand him, but he did. He smelt his mortal fear like a rich perfume, and it stirred every ounce of his hunger. The souls of mortals all twinkled in the same way. Feeble, and flawed. It was unimpressive compared to humans, but the scent was recognizable.
“You have no choice,” Beelzebub growled. “You either come to the table, or we feast. We are stronger than you. We are powerful. And there is no power which can protect you against us. You are utterly defenseless.”
The aliens didn’t notice what followed. All of the demonkin, waiting with baited breath, rippling like a tide. They were deceivers, as their master taught them to be. If the aliens saw through this lie, it would be a sudden end to a rich opportunity. The humans had seen through it. In the very beginning, after Eden. They had been such worthy opponents. They were even better allies.
“Very well.” The alien issued the order, and gradually, his troops withdrew. “We are willing to negotiate with your master. I trust adversaries as worthy as yourselves will remain good to your word.”
Beelzebub smiled. It was brutal. He didn’t bother to mask the drool trickling from his maw, nor the the grisly thirst in his eyes. “Of course, alien filth. My master is renowned for the deals he makes and keeps.”
/u/AdeptnessPrize | Far away, a ceremony was being conducted. As the conductor appeared before the crowd, he lifted his baton, signaling the rows of singers behind to begin their melody. All those there believe soundly that the expedition and conquering of Earth was going smoothly. The media had announced that the last human had since perished among the fighting.
The two sides of the coin were anything but close to peace.
Ashes wafted into the air from where the Mythicals of Earth stood. More of them would soon arrive, eager to show their true colors. The Devil had given the ultimate command only a short while ago.
*“Humanity has fallen. It is our turn to show our faces.”*
On the opposite end of the ashes, the invaders hung back, attempting to reconnect with the homeland. Attempt after attempt proved futile, their homeland was embroiled in a ceremony of sorts to celebrate the conquering of another celestial body.
The invaders were walking in blind now. They had no clue of their enemies’ descriptions, aside from a few short tales they gathered. There were no assigned missions, the only goal was to defend and ward off the enemy. The enemies were taken back by the unprecedented force of the Mythicals. Unfortunately, this platoon knew their demise was fast-approaching.
Back on the land of the invaders, the melody still carried on. The citizens were oblivious to the mess occurring far away from them.
The invaders tried once more to contact their superiors. They at least hoped that their message would be heard, even if they were eradicated here, surely reinforcements would be sent to combat this loss. The enemies of Earth were at a dead end now. With no real option, they set their sights on one task: destruction. If they couldn’t have Earth to themselves, then the opponents would have none of it either. The group of invaders congregated one final time. They were bound to destroy the structure in front of them.
On the opposite side of the structure, surprise manifested itself among the guardians of Earth. They gazed forward and saw what only could be a nightmare for humanity. One of humanity’s greatest structures was beginning to crumble. Little planning was required. The Devil’s forces launched into an assault against their enemies.
\--
On two thrones, the two leaders sat. From one side of the universe to the other, they continued to observe the carnage from their pretty little perches. This set of invaders had been squashed, but the Earth’s forces suffered tremendously too. Back on Earth, rubble and debris clogged the atmosphere now. Smoldering ashes of what once was the final of the original Seven Great Wonders of the World were scattered between the two sides.
Yet, there was a lack of remorse that was shared between the enemies.
Of course, the invaders could not have known of the beautiful intricacies that Earth once carried, but neither could the Mythicals know it either. They both failed at a simple saying that humanity carried: Before you judge a man, walk a mile in his shoes. Neither had experienced human life. One side had never been to Earth before, while another had remained just simply as a clustering of spirits trapped away in a cloak of invisibility. They could've never appreciated the value we hold for certain structures.
While neither could know it at the time, when asked the question that could change the tides of this event, the two leaders both uttered the same line, “Yes, I would like to continue the battle. We will not stop until it’s won.”
The spirit to be competitive is universal it seems.
r/CasualScribblings | 2020-09-18T08:27:23 | 2020-09-18T08:08:08 | 133 | 56 |
[WP] You run a tattoo parlor. Every couple of weeks, the same customer comes in, always requesting the same tattoo: an additional tally mark on an ever-growing cluster of tally marks. | ((First response, hope everyone enjoys!))
"'Nother, Chief."
We had our routine. He came in, nodded at me, and went and sat down in his favorite chair. He always had an appointment, of course, but always that same greeting, his voice never changing, cigarettes and kindness over neat whiskey.
He was a grizzled old bear, but in surprisingly good shape; under that flannel shirt he almost always wore lurked well-maintained, lithe muscle. I knew his arms well, and his legs; I'd lost count of his marks a while ago.
"Arm this time."
I nodded and put on the gloves. I finally decided to screw up my courage and ask, since there wouldn't be a place to put any more lines in a few more sessions without getting rather, ahem, *personal* if you catch my drift. "Y' know," I began over the hum of the needle after whetting it with pitch blank ink, "Y' never have explained these to me. And I think I lost track of 'em a while ago."
He let out a soft grunt as I did my art, but didn't respond. "They wanted to live," he finally stated. "Not all, but these ones did. This is how I celebrate, y' see."
I cocked an eyebrow as I finished the black slash covering one of hundreds of rows of groups of tallies on his body, deciding against inquiring further since I could tell by his tone it was something personal.
He paid in cash, like always, and left a ridiculous tip, like always.
____*____
My mind wandered that night about what he meant, my brain almost aching from its gears churning so hard. He'd always been a mystery, my regular, ever since he got his first tally mark on him, right smack over his heart. Never gave his name, never spoke more than a sentence or two, always sat like a statue through the quick work of getting the tally done.
I found myself restless and decided to go for a walk towards the Hoover Street bridge, hoping the water might give me some ideas for nautical tattoos. As I approached, I heard a conversation.
"Please don't do this." A familiar voice, this time concern mixed with the cigarettes and alcohol.
I increased my leisurely stroll to a run in the direction of the voice, realizing it was coming from out over the bridge. In fact, probably right in the middle of it. Putting two and two together, I backed off a bit and hid behind a building at the end of the bridge, slowing my pace again to give him time to talk the other person down.
"I'm so tired," came a young man's voice in reply, far too young-sounding to have the kind of thoughts he was having. "Just let me do this."
"I won't let you without trying to talk you out of it first." His voice was calm, full of concern and what sounded like a lot of experience. "You may never meet the people that care about you, or you may have already met them, but people do care about you. Including me. The pain is very real, but it's temporary. Remember that. *Everything* is temporary but what you're about to do."
There was audible sobbing after a few seconds.
"I can introduce you to some friends. Get you some help. I know life sucks right now, and I can tell by what you want to do that it *really* sucks for you right now in all kinds of ways. But it gets better. I promise. It may not seem like it, but it does."
I heard shuffling noises, then silence for a long time. *Too* long. I was just getting really worried when I heard it:
"C-can you help me back over?"
I turned and headed for my home as quietly as I could after I was sure help wasn't needed. I'd never let the Angel of Hoover Street Bridge know that I knew his identity.
I'd take it to my grave.
And it would be an honor to continue helping him commemorate every life he saved.
| "Brooke, he's here again." my assistant informed me. I took a look at the way he's looking and there it is, my favorite customer.
I never really got the chance to ask him why but every couple of weeks, without fail, he comes here just to get inked with a tic to add on his almost-covered right arm of endless other tics. I've always thought, because based on his appearance he looks like he's still kind of young and we're on the same age, it was just for "aesthetic" or whatever hipster thing the kids call it nowadays. But this-- this is getting ridiculous. It's been three years since he made it a habit to come to my shop.
He did his usual thing, with a frown plastered on his face, he took a seat without a word, closed his eyes and waited for the needle to make contact with his skin. I needn't even to say a word for he will just answer me with a nod or a shrug so what's the point. I already know what I should do, given those three years. And after getting inked he will pay, let me keep the change if there's any, and leave the shop without a trace. Then I go on with my normal life.
But this time, I decided to give my life a little spice.
After he left, I told my assistant to manage the shop while I'm out, and then hurried outside to see where the customer went. Without him noticing, I followed him until he stopped on a cafe. But it seems like he still isn't where he wanted to be.
"Adam, you've done it again. You need to stop this." I saw someone approaching him, holding out his right arm and examining it. "Riley won't like the idea of you hurting yourself."
"But I deserve this." I heard Adam reply. "I never felt her hurt. I was dense. I was never there for her when she needed me. I deserve to feel her hurt."
"Look it wasn't your fault that Riley was hurting. Besides, you were the only one who truly understood her--"
"But never fully! You see? I wasn't even good enough to know why she took her own life. I never knew her that deep! I wasn't trustworthy for her."
"Adam, you know that's not true!" the woman sighed. "You have to move on, Adam. I may not know Riley that much but I know that's what she wants for you."
Adam walked away. | 2016-07-09T14:05:08 | 2016-07-09T09:19:24 | 93 | 14 |
[WP] You're Barack Obama. 4 months into your retirement, you awake to find a letter with no return address on your bedside table. It reads "I hope you've had a chance to relax Barack...but pack your bags and call the number below. It's time to start the real job." Signed simply, "JFK." | "Very funny, Michelle," Barack called into their new home, the letter in his hand. It has always been their tradition to out-prank each other when they move to a new place. JFK, alive? Barack chuckled as he folded the letter and placed it in his pocket. Michelle has got to come out with better pranks.
Barack closed the wooden door and walked into the hallway. Boxes of unopened stuff laid strewn across it. Eight years of presidency had bestowed him countless of possession.
"Michelle?" Barack called out again, suddenly noticing the silence in the house. Just a few moments ago, he still heard the voices of Sasha and Malia giggling from the living room, while their mother asked them about their dinner choices. Except for Barack's footsteps on the floor, the air hung still.
Something did not feel right.
"Michelle? Sasha? Malia?" Barack shouted this time, his voice mixed with a tinge of worry. This was not a prank that the girls usually play on him. His hand clutched the letter in his pocket.
"I am afraid that your wife and daughters are no longer in the house," a voice behind him suddenly said. Barack yelled as he swerved around. Standing between him and the door he just closed, stood a figure whom he has only seen on books and television.
"Martin Luther King," Barack whispered, unable to believe what his eyes were seeing. He had seen his share of crazy things in his eight years of presidency, but coming face to face with dead figures was something he never expected.
Martin chuckled at Barack's response. "Yes, that is correct." He extended his hand to Barack. "And it's an honour to finally meet you, Mr President."
Barrak took Martin's hand and shook it. He straightened himself, assuming the straight posture he was well known for. Being in the presence of legends required the courtesy, though he still struggled to hide the surprise in his face. "The pleasure is mine, Dr King. Forgive me, but I must ask-"
"Your family is safe with us, Barack. And yes, the letter in your pocket is indeed from President Kennedy," Martin interjected.
"If I may, can you just walk me through what's going on here?" Barack gestured with his hands. He was feeling confused, as well as slightly taken aback. Nothing prepared him for this.
Martin sensed the unease that Barack felt. It was understandable. When Gandhi first appeared to him, he could not sleep for days. He placed a hand on Barack's shoulder. What he was about to say to Barack would be far worse than meeting dead people. "Barack, listen here, I am here to tell you that in a few weeks time, you'll be assassinated."
Barack flinched an eyebrow. "What?" Surely he was dreaming. The stress of the past eight years must have finally got to him.
The strength of Martin's hand on him, however, felt real. Martin gave Barack a sympathetic smile, just like how Gandhi had done so to him. "Yes, I am afraid so. This is just how things are supposed to work. Before you start your real job."
"Don't I get a say in this?" Barack questioned. He had been looking forward to some time off after his presidency. Another job was just out of the question. He could only lose so much hair.
Martin however, shook his head. "Barack, I am sorry, but it wouldn't be possible. My boss will not let it."
"And who is your boss, if I may ask?"
Martin Luther King smiled at the question, as if it was the question he had been waiting for Barack to ask since they first met. "His name is Jesus."
-------------
*Edited Barrack to Barack and Mr King to Dr King. Thanks for the pointer!*
/r/dori_tales | I could hardly breath.
"What is this?" I muttered to the guard detail with me.
"I don't know, sir. I suggest we take it the FBI, and they will deal with it." He responded cooly.
I hated that idea. I wasn't the president anymore, I want to be able to live a little. But I knew it wasn't a suggestion, it was a command. But my curiosity was too great. I took a picture of the number quickly, hopefully without someone noticing, and I gave it to the agent. He took it, and nodded promptly.
I darted for the living room, alone, and called the number. I waited, and I waited, but it kept ringing. I was getting anxious and I was almost sure this whole thing was a joke. But...then something picked up.
"Hello, sir."
It was muffled, sort of distant, and quite ominous. I was tempted to hang up. I have a family, I can't be meddling in danger.
"...um." I said, I was to scared to think properly.
"Listen, I know this is a bit of a shock to you, I mean honestly, you've seen the clip I'm sure, that bullet went right through my head! But trust me Barack, the world is more complicated than it seemed."
Whoever...whatever that was almost laughed saying that. It sort of reassured me, maybe this is the real JFK.
"Okay Barack, nothing jibber jabber, you're a busy man, I would know. Hah! Anyways, I want you to meet me at that airport named after me, you'll know where to go when you get there. I expect to see you there by noon. See you soon ol' pal!"
*Click*
That was it, he hung up. I was in a nervous sweat. I didn't know what to do. As far as I knew, this was a terrorist. But that voice sounded EXACTLY like JFK. And against everything I ever knew. Without consulting my wife, my kids, my security detail, I packed my bags.
This better be JFK. | 2022-12-29T14:39:14 | 2017-05-14T07:31:38 | 274 | 44 |
[WP] A little girl is terrified of the monster under her bed, but what she doesn't know is that the monster under her bed protects her from the true monsters - her parents. You are that monster.
Thanks for the huge amount of responses! Loving most all of them, thank you! Sorry it was a bit simplistic though. | They never linger long. Perhaps it's their own schedule that keeps them shuffling in and out of the well furnished room, a room that most would contend is too well furnished for a child. It's all so very formal, so lacking of dust or debris, no strewn toys or splashes of colors that so often betray youth at nothing more than a glance. I have been with many families, lurking in shadows, serving as an observer for most of the hours of our twenty four hour days. I have seen endless abuse, physical, mental, a spectrum of innocent eyes laced deeply with tears and pained sobbing that I would gladly deafen myself to never hear again. I've worked mostly with abuse, most of us have. It was absent here, and so when the shwick-whick of slacks brushing against each other in a hurried stride towards the door of my charge and I sounds off, there isn't the usual pitted gut in place. It's something a bit more routine, because Mister and Missus Jennings thrive in routine.
The door opens, the light of the hallway floods in to cast vision upon neglect. The room stretches on in great lengths of grey scale and pasteurized-by-design decoration. Education is prevalent in the only form the Jennings know -- blunt data. Letters and numbers crawl along the upper edges of the walls in sickly bold fonts that hold none of the warmth of even a classroom, a desk with a personal agenda (filled daily) sits polished and gleaming, an oppressive beacon of constant expectation in a room void of childish accommodation.
"Have you finished your work for the night, Sarah?" His voice is calm, collected, not so bold as to stumble into judgmental, but not more than a breath away. Better to keep her on edge, I can hear him thinking, better not to imply praise least she develop a complex or expectation for it.
"Yes, father." She's humble in response, level and calculated. A young mind that has played the game long enough. They never linger long, and she's an old pro at ensuring that with placation. "There's..." hesitation, thoughtful and measured. "The monster under my bed, the cave is still there." She finishes with a level of easily heard shame.
He gives a sigh, salt and pepper hair left rigid from the mornings treatment of product is pushed back by an aging hand showing the dry cracks of age. "There's no monster, Sarah. No cave. Have you been crawling around underneath your bed again?"
"I just want him gone." She responds as bluntly as she ever did. The expectations of the parents allowed for some level of equality in speech. A simple request without the immature posturing to secure it.
"Close your eyes, go to sleep. Your mother and I have an early morning tomorrow." It's his conclusion, and without a second thought to see his command followed, he rubs her head with what affection he allows himself to show and leaves the room. Darkness falls, encroaching across the room in hurried strides as the door closes and the last wisp of light fades. A nightlight sensor blinks red as the darkness falls across it, and soon soft purple shades are cast against every corner of the room.
"We still haven't explored the last room of that cave." I offer up as soon as I am certain we are alone. There's a huff from above, the small creaks of a tiny body tossing itself over.
"We haven't." She agrees with a pause, and then a sigh. "We will have to see it all tonight, I'm not sure the submarine can survive many more trips."
"Perhaps not." I cede. "We will have to work fast, then. The unicorns require these crystals."
"There are other resources." She grumbles, but I know that for at least tonight, her calculated responses and mature cadence will fall away. I hear the blankets being pulled up over head, and I finally exit the bottom of the bed to join in on our adventure. With the blankets serving as the shell of her underwater vessel, she gathers two handfuls of blanket to serve as throttle and depth control. Her feet plant further down for imagined rudder pedals, and there's only the slightest smile as her hands ease forward.
"Co-captain, buckle in." The smile can be heard more than it can be seen, levity enters a young mind slowly being conditioned to forget the word. "We're going to have to dive to the cave fast!"
For the last night, we dive, and we explore, and we laugh, and we take joy in our childish ways. I have to do very little in this house, my task is a passive one. She had told her father constantly of my presence, and how it shook her foundation and stood in the face of her teachings. He had ignored her as most parents would, as we grow to only put stock in what we understand, and they certainly didn't understand the monster under her bed. It fades with age, they tell themselves, and they were correct.
For imagination fades with age, and in the case of this particular monster, they would see it snuffed with the rising sun. The unicorns, I thought, would miss the efforts of that little girl nearly as much as I would. | It's the same every night. There aren't ever any deviations from this. Her father slowly opens the door to come into her room, I wait under the bed, he sees the gleam in my eyes upon approach, I growl, and then he leaves. I remember the first night it happened, I had just moved in. The dust under the bed needed to be cleaned, so when he came in I paid it no mind. My headphones were on that night, which was the very same night I vowed to never use headphones again. Strangely enough, I can't listen to Vivaldi after that. By the time I realized what was going on above me, it was too late. The father was already gone and all I heard from that point on was the daughter crying.
Eventually, I had come to learn that her name was Emily. Cute name for a cute kid. She hadn't realized what had happened to her. I guess her way of dealing with what happened was to blame a monster under her bed. Go fucking figure. However, even if she was going to blame her new neighbor, I promised myself not to let anything as horrible as that happen again. So, a few nights later as Emily was asleep, once again, her father came into the room. He paid no attention to me as he came in, not like he does now.
The floorboards sang their song under his feet and I turned to glare at the man. He came in with no pants this time. While that was a huge mistake, I knew I couldn't go too far, though. As he came near the bed, I pushed myself out from under it, and lifted myself up with one set of my arms and grabbed the father by his throat with my other set. Now, before I continue, I'm one big motherfucker. I don't have muscles like my cousins, but by nature, we're just big people. However, one trait that we all share is that by human standards, we're ugly fucks. I'm pretty ugly in particular. Had a bad burn accident when I was little. I'm missing a quarter of my face where my left eye is supposed to be. My other eye lacks an eyelid.
Needless to say this shit eating motherfucker went to scream like the little girl he just came in to rape. I got lucky. I was able to cover his mouth with my hand. Our conversation was short, very short. All I told him was that if he ever came in to do some shit like this again, I wasn't going to waste time being scary. I was going to rip his fucking jaw off and kill him with it. He nodded in confirmation, left the room, and I went back under the bed content with just that.
Every now and then, he opens the door to come into her room, I wait under the bed, he seems the gleam in my eyes upon approach, I growl, and then he leaves. I suppose eventually Emily caught onto this. Started asking her father about a monster under her bed. He assured her nothing was wrong, and that if there was a monster, he was going to get rid it. Sure you will, dick farm. Sure you will.
I don't consider myself a hero. If I was, I would have stopped this shit from happening the first time. A hero would have killed that shit bag the first time he came into the room. I fucked up with that. Rest assured, though, next time he opens that door, I think I'm going to make good on what I told him. | 2014-05-14T12:13:09 | 2014-05-14T11:13:12 | 331 | 149 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | My name is Marco.
The signs showed up randomly, at first. I would only see signs above people's heads if their name started with an "A", and above their heads would float "Andrea - Murder".
I didn't interfere, not after my first attempt. I wanted to, of course, but after Beth...
I stopped a girl with "Beth - Suicide", merely telling her that she'd need only ask for help if she needed someone to talk to. She turned blank as slate, and I saw her sign change. "Beth - Car crash". I tried to stop her - I really, really did - but after hearing a stranger calling her by name, telling her she should get help... I guess she freaked out. She ran across the road, presumably to get away from me, and didn't see the 2009 red Mercedes being chased by a police van.
When it got further into the alphabet, from B to C and beyond, I grew a bit troubled. What would my own sign say? Hopefully, old age. I didn't want to be just another early-twenties white male statistic. The day was drawing closer and closer regardless of my hopes. Hs, Is, Js and Ks were already showing up, and I only needed to wait for the Ls before my turn arrived.
It arrived all too soon.
One morning, out of nowhere, "Louis - Snake bite" was flashing in front of my face. I ran home. No way I was going to stay out on the big day. I did it carefully, of course, no need to rush something or change my sign prematurely.
My mother, "Diane - Dementia", was sitting at the dining room table when I got home. I greeted her quickly, and ignored her "What's the rush Markie?" while I ran to my room. I had already set up a full-body mirror there in anticipation of this day.
I got into my room, hearing my mother's footsteps rushing behind me. Motherly instinct to protect, no doubt. Too bad I didn't have the heart to tell her about the signs. *Her* sign.
I reached my room. I could see a faint glowing above my head, already in the vague shape of a sign, but no name nor words appeared there.
And, just as my mother reached my room - my dear, loving mother - my sign lit up. Bright red. It only contained two words, which were just in time to warn me of the knife-wielding hand moving towards my back.
*MARCO - RUN!*
| They started showing themselves to me when I started high school. They were always a light shade of blue and wouldn't change. If someone was to die of a heart attack...he was to die of a heart attack. Nothing to be done about their fate. Nothing I could do, at least I thought. Those words would hang over the heads of my best friends, my significant others, and any pet I would own. It wasn't the best superpower, but at least nothing surprised me...at least, not recently. I started seeing some of the most painful, and drawn out, terminal diseases being replaced by a name. John Relain. I don't know who he is, all I know is I have to find him. If he has my power, and is acting on these diagnoses, I can't allow him to continue. | 2015-03-31T08:25:25 | 2015-03-31T08:21:48 | 73 | 47 |
[WP] The world is now in an urban-fantasy age, with you, a legendary sentient sword, being the #1 exhibit in a museum of magical artifacts. But with crime on the rise, you decide to do your old thing and choose a new wielder to deal with this crime wave. Whether they like it or not. | The choice of who was not mine. I chose only the time. And then I would be summoned to the nearest soul who did not wish to wield me. Normally I could talk them into it. All they lacked was confidence. An encouraging voice to drive them to greatness. It never took me more than three days before me and my partner were out dispensing justice. I would push them further beyond limits they didn't even know they had until we reached the root of corruption and brought peace back to the world. That was how I found myself in the hands of Simmons the unpaid apprentice Archivist, calling him to adventure.
"No! I can't!" he protested.
*Typical.*
"You can, and you must!" I roared in his mind "The realm needs you! Cast aside your fear for a grand destiny has-"
"No, I'll fight as much injustice as you want." Simmons opened the glass cabinet and gently placed me back on my red velvet cushion. "But you're a priceless artefact! You could be damaged beyond repair!"
Okay, maybe not so typical. I teleported myself back into his hand.
"I have lasted through millennia of conflict. Seen thousands of battles and survived them all."
"Exactly! You're an irreplaceable part of history." the young man once again laid me to rest inside the cabinet, this time fluffing up my cushion. "Look if it means so much to you, I'll go down to MagiMart and pick up a magic Stun Sword. You just guide me in the right direction and that way we can-"
"A DIFFERENT MAGIC SWORD!?" I snapped back into his hand again, "NO! WE MUST FACE DOWN THE WORLD'S INJUSTICE TOGETHER!"
Simmons paused. Was I getting through to him?
After a moment of deep thought he responded. "Is this really about the injustice?"
"What!? Of course it is, corruption has befouled our-"
"Then why does it matter what weapon I use?" he asked "Magic Smithing has advanced by leaps and bounds in the last century. They might not have friendly sentient interface anymore but they're chock full of non-lethal combat features. Heck they have magic guns can fire 10 sleep spells per second now."
"It matters because-uhh because..."
"Be honest. Are you just bored?"
"Well...sort of. But the worlds injustice has been growing lately..."
"It's never stopped growing. You may liberate a town or city from a major villain every now and then but then another quickly takes their place. Sometimes they're even worse. Why stop there?"
"Well my wielders usually decide to... retire after conquering great evil. Also people have gotten so sensitive recently. You kill a few low level henchmen along the way for the greater good and suddenly everyone is questioning whether the ends justifies the means, wondering whether I am a relic of a bygone era that should be melted down. So I have to pretend to rest until the controversy dies down. But it gets DULL sitting here all day-"
"Okay okay, I hear you." Simmons replies sympathetically "Look I'll see what I can do about getting you a WebFlicks subscription and maybe convince the curator to let you join a touring exhibition. But until then no more questing for you okay?"
I mentally sigh knowing that I could not find a new wielder until the previous one dies. This was going to be a long partnership. | I have to admit, the centuries of relaxation were much appreciated, but as a great man once said, I was not made to simply lay in bed. Or, in my case, a display case.
Crowds were walking by me, gawking at my body; A dream many people have. My handle, my curves, my tip... I was irresistible. Forged in the fires of a now-thought-mythical volcano and hammered on the anvil of a long-dead-and-now-thought-mythical god, I had everything you'd want in a hero's sword. My metallic shine had a tinge of cyan that made my first wielder name me what my display case had in a plaque on the front: SKYSTRIKE.
Of course, no one knew I was sentient because I can't exactly talk. They thought I was drawn to my wielder like a magnet, and I guess that's true, but \*I\* decide who my wielder is. In recent weeks I've heard the passersby discussing rumors of the Exiled rising from their caves all across Tristamria. They foolishly dismiss these rumors like so many before them, but I know how these things work. Evil never dies, and luckily for the world neither do I.
There is a young man with mid-length blonde hair and bulging muscles tapping on my glass. He keeps eyeing me greedily and speaking to the others about how he is the next wielder. That would be a big mistake; Power should never go to those who want it. I'm about to smash out of this glass with enough force to make him shit his pants and land in the hands of the janitor. | 2022-03-10T19:04:19 | 2022-03-10T18:10:03 | 60 | 19 |
[WP] You know the secret identity of every hero and villain, How? They show you, as your a shapeshifter employed to impersonate them so both identities can be seen at the same place, same time. However none know your true identity. | “I won’t agree to that job.”
I stared across the booth at Dirk, who hissed at me angrily in response, the flicking of his tongue practically a dead giveaway of his alter ego, The Serpant. It lashes out a mere four inches in front of me. When I started out, his demeanor would have shaken me, but now, more sure of my principles and my leverage, I held firm.
“What is so wrong with my plan?” He snarled across the table.
“Too high of a potential casualty count,” I responded.
“But who cares about the casualty count!” He wailed, earning glance from other patrons in the dark bar. He quickly hunkered to make himself small, and whispered into the table, “The casualties are worth the price.”
“Not to me they aren’t,” I replied, and as he glanced up at me, I saw his pupils turn from slits to black. I gazed into them, a poker face on the outside, but always slightly unnerved by those eyes.
“I agree with the principle,” I assured him, “but unless you can find another way, I can’t help you. You would have had to come up with a slightly different plan anyway, as I am booked on Wednesday. If destroying a hospital wing means so much to you, you can wait a week and come up with something better.”
He slumped into the booth cushions, seething at me but saying nothing. I knew he would not push back. If he went ahead with it anyway, especially if he lied to me about a different plan to throw me off, I would blacklist him. Once he solicited my services, his plans were almost more in my control than his.
“Fine,” he finally muttered, without making eye contact.
“Great, I’ll meet you here next week to discuss then.” As I stood up, I threw a few bills on the table for my drinks before striding out of the bar.
I knew Dirk would not follow. He, like many, had tried the first few times we met, but after I raised prices in retaliation, he stopped. Still, I had to be cautious when I slipped to another form.
When I had made it a few blocks, I changed to a young gangly man at the top of the steps of the subway station. Once on the train, I switched to an older man while walking between cars. Finally, just around the block from my next meeting, I shifted to one of my most common forms, a solid woman, in her late fifties, with an intimidating sharp face, softened slightly by waves of hair that fell to her shoulders.
A chime went off as I opened the door to a small cafe. The owner waved as I came in and poured a cup of coffee in front of me as I sat down.
“Thank you Lisa,” I smiled up at her, and she smiled back with a nice “of course, dear” before padding back behind the counter.
As I waited for my colleague to arrive, I drank my coffee and thought about Dirk’s proposal. He wanted to destroy the hospital, to cause people to be less willing to put themselves in his way as he sowed other terror throughout the city. I had talked him down to just a wing, but we had not yet decided on which one, and how.
In better times, I would not partake in this plan at all, but more recently the council had been vetoing my propositions for budget allocation, claiming that the hospital was operating fine, even though it was severely under-resourced and hemorrhaging good doctors due to low salaries. If it was to be partially destroyed, there was no way I would be denied money to fix it back up, allowing for improvements. Desperate times, as they say.
As I took a sip of coffee, my appointment walked through the door.
“Mayor Blayson,” He greeted me with a nod.
“Councilman Jones,” I smiled across the table. “Let’s talk about your position on the health services budget.” | The doorbell rang. When Timothy Reid went to meet the stranger, two very special men stood opposite from each other. Timothy was in his mid thirties, a rather boring attorney by day, a gangster by night. Not just any gangster, but a greatly feared villain, successful at evading both the police and a number of heroes.
The man on the other side was harder to describe. He could have been anywhere between twenty and forty, his eyes old, but his body heavy and strong like a bull. Nonetheless, when he moved to shake the villains hand, he moved like a dancer, graceful and quick. A soft smile flashed over his lips.
"Hello." He said.
"Come in." Timothy moved to the side to let the stranger enter. And in that short moment he looked away, he noticed that he could not remember what his opposite looked like. However remarkable the stranger was, he was just as forgettable. "What is your name?"
"Timothy Reid." The stranger answered. For in that second that the door closed behind him, he had transformed. The real Timothy wanted to respond, but the impersonator cut him off. "Neither of us have the time for pleasantries and I think it's rather obvious that I'm not going to tell you anything about me. Sign the contract and be on your way."
"I'm not sure you want to talk that way with me."
"I can talk with you any way I want to. See, Timothy, I deal with a lot of clients like you. Similar problem, similar power, similar lust for control. Do you really think I would walk into anybody's home without security protocols? No. *I'm* pretty sure you don't want to find out what they look like. Sign the contract. 500$ an hour. It's the same for everybody. Deal with it."
Timothy Reid grumbled, but he was smart enough to know what battles to fight. He knew this wasn't one of them. He needed this man. "You know who I am? What I act like? What businesses I run? Who to trust? We haven't spent a minute together and you are to take over my life for 12 hours!"
"My dear Timothy, the spent the last two weeks with you. I know everything I need to. Now go. I will meet you in a couple hours." | 2020-10-19T08:55:56 | 2020-10-19T08:45:39 | 375 | 94 |
[WP] Heaven and Hell do exist after death but you can choose in which you go. You jokingly choose Hell and when you arrive there, you hear Satan saying: "Finally someone! A friend!" | My mind twisted this from comical to a bit dark...
I had accepted my fate as soon as I had sliced my wrists. The hot bath water stung but I had figured Hell would be much worse... only it wasn't. It wasn't what I had expected at all.
"Another suicide? You don't have to stay here, you can go to Heaven" a disembodied voice remarked dismissively, as if this were a common occurrence.
"I have a choice?" Confused did not seem to cover how deeply disoriented I felt at that moment.
"You all do, every single one" the Voice replied airily.
"Does that mean my father is up there?" My voice tremored and I felt the selfhatred begin to suffuse me once more. Something I had hope death with cure.
"They're all up there" the Voice replied forlorn and tinged with jealously.
"I won't go there. Not if *he* is there!" I cried out, my fingers clenched into fists so tight my nails dug into my palms. How could this happen? Father Perez had taught us that sinners go to Hell and only the truly righteous would go to Heaven. He had counseled every week for three years and reassured me that my father would have to answer for his sins against me. How could this be?
My mental tirade ended abruptly at the appearance of a stunningly beautiful man. "Who are you?" I demanded, I could already feel the angry tears building in my eyes, my cheeks I could tell were already rosy from my ire.
"I am Lucifer, the Morningstar" the man proclaimed with a small flourish of his beautiful hand. It was unfair how perfect Satan looked, my own hands were scarred from years cigarette burns. "*He* can heal your skin, if you want to go to him. You'll be happy, it's your personal paradise" Lucifer drawled. Oh...he could read minds.
"I won't go. I don't care if I have to be scarred and ugly for eternity. I won't be anywhere near *that* man!" my voice cracked as I bellowed but I didn't care that I had yelled at Satan, he could do his worst.
Lucifer sighed, no doubt tired with my infantile fury. I held my breath and waited for the hordes of demons to come and smite me. "Heaven is a realm eternal and vast, you will never have to see your father if you do not desire it."
"I won't take the chance!" I had crossed my arms and hunched reflexively without realizing it. I could see the look of pity in his crystal blue eyes as he looked upon my no doubt pitiful presence. "Please, don't make me go" I pleaded. I was angry, scared, and confused. The afterlife wasn't supposed to be like this.
"Okay, you can stay" Lucifer's stance relaxed "you look like you could use a friend."
"I don't need your pity, unless this is how you plan to torture me?" At that Lucifer smiled sadly.
"No, I could use a friend too." The sincerity in his voice jarred me. "Come with me, do you enjoy coffee?" He nodded his head and a simple black door appeared before us.
I goggled the question. "Can't you read my mind?" I laughed as I followed him through the door into what looked like a well appointed modern mansion. It was stunning.
"What kind of friend would I be if I read your mind so callously?" He asked with an arched blonde brow. "And, while I'm asking questions, what is your name?"
"Ash" I mumbled and played with the cuff of my stained hoodie sleeve. Lucifer paused in his coffee making and looked at me quite intensely.
"Ash? Is that short for anything?"
"*Ashtoreth*, my mom picked it out but it's embarrassing." I murmered. Mom was Jewish, technically I was supposed to be too. I wondered if that would matter to Lucifer. It didn't matter to my foster parents.
"No, Ashtoreth, I thinking it's quite fitting." Lucifer had a very happy smile as he pulled shots of espresso. He handed one to me and it looked unnaturally beautiful for coffee. "It's a ristretto, sip it." Lucifer commanded and sipped his own. I watched as he sighed in contentment.
I brought mine to my lips and sipped. The espresso warmed me and I felt new. I felt whole. "Welcome home, *Asteroth*."
I was *home*.
| "I've been waiting for so long!"- The devil said excitedly, jumping around and exhaling noxious fumes. He seemed ghastly and yet, he had an air of friendliness to him.
The moment I saw him walking towards me was when I realized my silly little joke had gone a little too far. He walked rather vigorously and with every step Hell seemed to shout as the echoes of a hundred little bones being crushed under his hooves bounced off the impossibly high ceiling.
After a while he finally reached me and stretched his bright red hand with jet black nails so long that they might as well have been claws. "How do you do? Please to meet you! My name is Satan but you can call me Stan."- I looked him in the eyes where I seemingly got lost in a dark and empty void only to be snapped back into reality as my hand instinctively went shake his, the skin felt like touching a very lukewarm stove, not enough to hurt but just right to make you feel uncomfortable.
"Hi, uhh I guess I am now in this....place."- I looked at him rather confused as it wasn't the hell I expected or the one I would've hoped for.
"Indeed you are, which begs the question. Why? I mean, don't get me wrong, it's great to have you here but your choice is unusual to say the least."- The devil looked at me with a childish grin in his face as if he expected me to say that the only reason I was here for was him and him alone.
"Well Satan-" he quickly interrupted me mid sentence. "Stan, just call me Stan."- "Right...Stan. Well, I just chose Hell because I figured it would be an absolute party central."- I could never tell him that it was just because of a joke, he seemed like a nice enough guy, if we are not taking into account the Afterlife Reform Act Battle where he attempted to stop people from leaving Hell (much to no avail if I might add) by invading Heaven. Instead I went with a lame excuse with a sentence that included 'party central'...nice.
"Well, you came to just the right place."- He said as he guided me through a series of empty corridors that seemed impossibly long until we reached a room with a table and some food. "Cause we have everything we need for a total rave."
"Chips, dip and chairs not stained with blood!"- He clearly hadn't thrown a party in millennia, he forgot the guacamole. But I decided that maybe I might as well enjoy myself and ultimately partied with him, just the two of us and some chairs.
So good was the dip that the fallen angels that once dwelled in Hell and had left to the lower levels of Heaven had returned home once more. The look on Stan's face was priceless.
You might think of me as a foolish man that jokingly chose Hell but, since God proved that destiny is totally a thing that can be changed and forged, let me tell you that Stan and I have enjoyed inhuman quantities of dip. | 2017-11-04T08:14:39 | 2017-11-04T07:17:22 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | The old man sighed heavily as the alarm went off. Sirens blared, and red lights flashed. The young man he had been training to eventually succeed him leapt out of his simple cot, eyes wide with terror and hands trembling as they clutched the nanofiber blanket covering him. The old man shook his head sadly, rose from his hovering bed, and gestured for the boy to follow him.
As the boy hurriedly leapt from his resting place, he looked up at the old man. "I thought you said we'd never have to use it?" He said, shouting to be heard over the blaring klaxons.
The old man shook his head once more, and replied "I said I hope we won't, not that we wouldn't! A peaceful planet will always be viewed as an easy conquest for the warmongers, that's how it's always been, that's how it'll always be." He slipped on his skintight environment suit and activated the hyperfiltration field, while his young ward followed suit. Then, one after the other, they clambered down the small ladder to the main computer room, prepared to accomplish their duty.
The old man pressed the alarm release, and stared solemnly at the ancient, dust-covered room in the sudden silence. The boy fidgeted with his necklace, one that the old man had once worn. The old man eyed it, looking at the key, a relic from a bygone era, where wars raged and people died, where boys dreamed of being soldiers to protect their country. Even after the Great Conjunction, the union of the planet into a single, peaceful nation in the face of first contact, boys had dreamed of defending their homeland.
The old man lifted his own key, then looked down at his wrist computer as it made a small beep. A message. He scrolled through the details somberly, as the boy waited anxiously to be told what to do. Finally, the old man walked across the room, leaving footprints in a century's worth of dust. The boy nervously followed suit, feeling as if he was trespassing on some sacred ground. The two sat in the ancient chairs, and the old man wiped the dust off of the console. He stopped and stared for a moment, before beginning to type in a set of coordinates.
He removed his key. The boy followed suit.
In practiced motions, they inserted the keys into the keyholes, the old man almost missed because his hand was trembling so badly. They turned the keys in unison.
With an ominous click, a plastic box flipped up, revealing a glowing red button.
The old man pressed it.
The missile flew.
As the old man watched the missile hurtle towards the enemy, towards the terrible, vast fleet he knew was out there, towards the aggressor who decided it was time to conquer the puny, peaceful little humans, ancient words he didn't know he knew slipped from his lips:
"I am become death, destroyer of worlds..." | After action report: Stardate M22, 783.
SSgt. Wilson Duke reporting.
Upon contact with the enemy, star ship *Primo Victoria* fired one thermonuclear weapon. The missile detonated on target, causing heavy damage to the enemy ship. The enemy ship became crippled, and boarding action was approved. At hour 4 of the conflict, while the boarding teams were still making progress toward the enemy bridge, an enemy vessel appeared from hyperspace at an extreme distance. We only knew of the ship appearing moments before it's weapon detonated amongst the fleet. The best way I can describe it as is a sun was born in the center of our fleet, and it grew with intensity to the point that the circumference of the explosion engulfed every vessel of the fleet, including the boarded enemy ship.
My ship was on a mission to plot an exit for the fleet so we were a bit further way from the fleet. The explosion, by our instruments data read outs, was no different than the nuclear weapon we had used against the first contact.
It was identical. Except it made the ancient Tzar Bomb from Russian design look like a fire cracker.
Recommend diplomacy or major research and development into new weapons as we thought we were the only species to have nuclear weapons but we were sadly mistaken. | 2020-02-07T11:53:36 | 2020-02-07T10:40:03 | 471 | 107 |
[WP] You are immortal, but a quirk of your condition also renders the person nearest to you immortal as well. A selfish king obsessed with living forever has gone to extreme lengths to keep you as the closest person to them at all times. | For centuries, the two immortals stared each other down, neither moving nor willing to let the other. In the isolation of their tomb, both had long since forgotten which was the immortal and which the king. They had both wielded power unlike any in the world. For one, his words were like the incantation to a spell. Everything he commanded came to fruition. The other, his will was divine decree. Everything he wanted, he eventually got.
But now, the king had nobody to speak to and the immortal had shared his gifts with the one person who had bound him inside this tomb.
"Charles," Leo said, though he didn't know if the name referred to him or the king. They had switched names quite a bit. The last time they had re-established roles, the iron on their cuffs had finally rusted through. He was pretty sure that he was the immortal. "Why go through the effort?"
"To keep you from this world," The supposed king, Charles, replied. Though he also wasn't sure if he was the one being kept from the world.
"That's not what happened when we had first met."
The immortal always had a flair for the dramatic. Life was of no consequence to him, nor pain and suffering. It was all just something to fade from memory. So when they had first met, he had stabbed the king through the heart, just to prove his worth.
Charles closed his eyes. "I thought that together, we could do great things, build monuments the world would never forget, spread wealth and wonder to the edges of the sea."
"And what have we done?" Leo asked.
They both turned to the hieroglyphics. In the countless years that had passed, those carvings were all the connected them to the written word. Every hour every day, the sun came at just the right angle to highlight one. It spelled *The Great Pyramid of Giza*.
"Is that not enough?" He continued.
"At the cost of thousands of lives? At the birth of sacrificial rituals to some pagan god?" Charles shook his head. "You forever stained my legacy."
"But you have a legacy because of me. It is written in the walls of our tomb, forever kept for your readership."
Charles breathed out a sigh. "Why introduce me your rituals? Your power did not come from any of them. The people we killed, for what?"
A smile curled onto Leo's lips. "For fun of course."
The two stopped talking because through the stone walls, they could hear the muffled echo of footsteps. Then, the walls quaked and a metal hammer sliced through, crumbling the rock. The two turned and caught blinding light. They were thieves, here to ransack the pyramid.
"Don't let him out!" Charles screamed, but it was already too late.
Leo sprinted past the thieves and their magic hammer and immediately fell to the floor dead.
Charles stared at the corpse, his lips quivering.
He was the immortal.
---
---
/r/jraywang for 2+ stories a day plus continuations by popular request.
| Humans.. so absolutely delightful. Their fears, so handsomely written across the pages of their faces. Painful portraits pristinely polished to... *Perfection.*
Bashful Bastards Boasting Battered Broads. Cantankerous *Cards* Crawling Carefully Clasping Coat-tails. Dangerous Deeds Deserve.. Dashing *Deaths*. And I smile through it all.
I'm a cat, i think? A moose? Mounting Marble Making Monsters of them all. A cat? I think. Stripes? And fur.. I could be tile, or carpetted wall. Wailing Winds Whip *Wonderfully*. Hopes Hindered, Heads Hopping, Happy Hunting.
I'm a cat? I think.. Alive? Maybe.. no.. dead? But the queen who lives here is mad..
All the whispers.. running through her head..
Ah! It's spring again, I love roses? Or heads? I don't really care for either... What really makes me smile, are seeing the Roses Red.
.......................................................
Thank you for reading. I'm not too great at writing, so I just wanted to do these casually to gain some practice.
It's set in the mind of the Cheshire Cat. I don't know how to make that obvious, so I made it vague with hints scattered throughout his babbling. Also, to show how, the Queen of Hearts became so mad. | 2017-05-13T06:50:28 | 2017-05-13T06:03:50 | 1,785 | 26 |
[WP] A Vampire Hunter, a Dragon Slayer, a Witch Inquisitor, and a Demon Excorcist must work together to kill a Vampire Dragon possessed by a Demon controlled by a powerful coven of Witches. They all absolutely hate each other. | "How the hell does a dragon get possessed by demon?" Asked the Vampire hunter as he added more wooden stakes to his utility belt, "I thought only human souls could be possessed".
"With witches anythings possible", replied the Witch Inquisitor who was tying the laces to her thigh high leather boots.
"Shows what the fuck you two know", sneered the Dragon slayer, polishing his sword. "Any fool who's done a little bit of research knows dragons are humans who escaped the eternal pit of damnation by making a deal with the 9 demon lords to horde gold for 5 thousand years. For the chance to live again, hence a human soul".
"Right, anyone off the street would know that", the Witch inquisitor leered, frankly ticked off.
"I knew that", chimed in the Demon exorcist who was practicing blowing bubbles with his bubblicious gum.
"Well duh you pink haired idiot". The Vampire hunter was easily offended, which is why he took on a career that payed him to stake loudmouth, bloodsucker's in the heart. Also, sometimes in the face if they were really annoying.
"Listen boys", the Witch inquisitor began, "just because we're working together doesn't mean we have to like it, let's get this done quickly so we never have to see each other again, or at least until the next vampire, demon possessed dragon controlled by witches pops up".
"Good fucking plan", replied the Dragon Slayer.
"You have a foul mouth", said the Demon exorcist who was stretching it out in downward dog.
"My boyfriend likes my mouth just fine", he answered back.
"Thanks for that image, of course the jerk is in a loving relationship", the Witch inquisitor rolled her eyes.
"I really am".
"What a jerk? Or in a loving relationship?" She asked.
"Both". The Dragon slayer chortled nastily.
"Is everyone ready? lets get this fucking over with". The Vampire Hunter screwed the cap onto the bottle of holy water that hung awkwardly from his neck.
"I love it when you take charge", said the Demon exorcist dreamily.
It was going to be a long night.
​
​ | From land afar came the wise,
a collection of masters in disguise,
To slay the beast was the request,
Achieving that was not the test,
Even tho they had great skill,
Their conquest brought a chill,
To every man that heard them speak,
Words that would make a sailor squeak,
No one could say for certain,
If they would have to pull the curtain,
On a summon rarely shown,
That the beast was worse than known,
Perhaps humanity was lost,
Or they could not to speak words of frost.
Save us from the darkest fate,
Oh you masters of hate.
| 2018-11-08T18:47:36 | 2018-11-08T14:12:31 | 99 | 45 |
[WP] Medieval times, a woman is accused by villagers of being a witch and she is put in a cage to drown, after 3 minutes she is not dead so they burn her at the stake but she survives that too, villagers now realize they finally found a real witch and don’t know what to do next... | "So..." The magistrate nervously pulled at his collar, letting in fresh air into his shirt.
"So." Lilith grinned, her eyes flashing yellow. She did not prespire, despite being buried neck deep in hot coals.
"Your predicament is most unusual, Miss Lilith. According to our laws, anyone who is accused of witchcraft and survives judgement is supposed to be set free, as we are to believe our Lord has protected you." The magistrate took off his hat to wipe the sweat from his brow. "However, you have refused to acknowledge the Christian God, and continue slandering our church."
"Well, obviously you're a shit church if you can kill 20 innocent people but not one actual witch," the woman chirped.
The magistrate cleared his throat loudly and continued. "You have also refused the minister's generous offer to pretend to die and then be escorted out of the village."
"I never liked that minister," Lilith yawned. "He couldn't make it through a sermon without stuttering like a fool."
"Miss Lilith, I'll be frank with you," the magistrate sighed. "Whether or not you are aligned with supernatural powers is irrelevant; the fact of the matter is that you are a source of great discomfort to our citizens-"
"But no one's thought about MY discomfort," the woman laughed. "I've still got rope burns round my neck from the hanging, a sniffle from being dunked in the creek, and right now I have an itch on my chin!" She struggled to crane her neck around the hot coals to scratch, to no avail.
The magistrate set his jaw, bracing himself for the concession he was about to make. "Perhaps there's something the church can do to convince you to leave without incident?"
Lilith stopped straining and looked at the man incredulously. "My my, magistrate! A bribe?!"
"A deal," the elder said wearily, "so that you may torment this community no more."
The young woman pondered for a moment before replying. "Proper burials for all those you've killed in your witch hunt."
"Consider it done."
Lilith thought some more before continuing. "2 horses and a wagon filled with equipment so I can set up my life elsewhere."
"Naturally," the magistrate nodded.
A smirk came across the witch's face. "And I want everyone to watch as I leave town."
The elder groaned. "So be it," he conceded. "But it'll be in a coffin." | The deacon's shriek ascended an octave, silencing the villagers muttering below.
"Truly this harlot is an agent of the devil! An evil being of the of the highest order! The flames have stripped away her, yet Lucifer's powers protect her body!"
His eyes tracked the listless crowd, as he desperately tried injecting enthusiasm into the proceedings.
"Quickly, we must tie her between two horses and rend her limb from limb; only this will exorcise the ungodliness from her poor soul."
Voices pricked his ears.
"Our horse was sick, we had to put it down yesterday"
"Poor girl was supposed to be marrying Dolph, come summer"
"Wasn't sinking in the lake supposed to prove she wasn't a witch? Staying underwater for an hour doesn't change that she passed..."
Deacon Thomas put his head in his hands. | 2019-02-12T04:31:19 | 2019-02-12T04:21:38 | 40 | 23 |
[WP] A summoned demon can always be defeated by the summoner, thus the caliber of demon is dependent on the power of the summoner. You were surprised to see Satan Himself stood before you, and so was He. | **The King Mage of Nothing**
The heathen armies of the North had been sieging the Capitol for three years. In that same time, I’d lost my three children. First it was starvation, which claimed my baby boy. Then it was disease, which claimed my only daughter. And finally it was the unrest, the riots, which had claimed my eldest son, my heir, only an hour before.
I didn’t blame my people, I blamed these monsters. They’d turned my kingdom into a Hell on earth. Today, I would give that Hell back.
“Monstrum mihi exaequabo!” I bellowed from atop the gates, amplifying my voice with power so it roared over the army attempting to breach my gates below, holding my forbidden spell book in one hand and raising my scepter with the other.
The entire army paused. For a moment, there was quiet, with only the sound of wind whipping my purple and gold King Mage robes around me.
Then, an explosion. A column of fire erupted from the earth in the middle of my enemy's army, instantly incinerating the men who stood there and burning all those around. It rose higher than even the tallest tower of my castle. Finally, it fell back into the earth.
In the center of the charred circle was my creature. It radiated raw, uncontrollable, wicked power. It looked like an enormous, red man with huge white horns atop it’s bald head, and spikes ripping up its spine.
It was Him.
“Attack!” I said without giving myself a chance to consider what this meant. A sparkling white, pointy toothed grin spread across his face as fire consumed him from the waste down, shooting downward as he rose off from the ground. Already the heathens were in retreat. The demon stretched his arms and opened his clawed hands, unleashing Hell onto the battle field in raging streams of fire.
He flew over the battlefield and scorched them all.
Finally, I could take it all in. The land before the gates was utterly devastated. Pillars of smoke rose from the burned remains of things resembling bodies, all the earth was black, and the only thing that moved was my demon as he flew up the tower to meet me.
I’d won, but at what cost? The spell was dangerous, but it had safeguards, it was only meant to summon a demon equal to my power. Was I this powerful?
“Mortal!” He said, voice booming as he landed on top of the gate in front of me. “Never before have I, the Lord of Demons, been summoned. Who are you?”
“I am the King Mage Charlemagne II. I have summoned you as my equal. If you disobey me, I have the power to defeat you.” I said, but I did not believe the words.
Neither did He.
He lunged at me, claws ready to close around my throat and kill me in a single blow.
“Confino!” I said, casting the spell just in time. He was bound, frozen in place for now. Instantly I could feel him struggle against the bond, draining my energy. I did not know how long I could hold the spell.
—
We were doomed. I’d defeated my enemies, but brought something much worse to this world. If I died, he’d be free to roam this world, unencumbered by any master, able to do whatever he pleased. Humanity would not like what he pleased.
The only way to send him back was by defeating him in combat. I’d seen what he’d done, though, and I could not do it. Had I cast the spell wrong? I rehearsed it again and again in my mind. I knew I had not.
A mage’s power are tied to his emotions. In that moment, my rage was like I’d never felt it before and my power must have been elevated to His. But those emotions were not there now.
I was only sad, terrified, and tired.
—
The following years were a blur. Even frozen in place, the Lord of Demons had power. Crops wouldn’t grow and pestilence from the siege only grew worse. The people, rightfully, blamed me. Weakened and heirless, new Lord Mages rose to challenge me. I abdicated the throne without a fight. I didn’t have the strength, so much of my energy was devoted solely to holding the binding spell.
And besides, I just did not care care. There was no nothing left on this earth for me. My wife and my children were gone, my kingdom hated me.
Now I’m here. If I could, I would die. All I have is a vague sense of duty to stay alive and keep up the spell to keep the Lord of Demons bound.
If I cannot find something worth living for, I’ll never be able to summon the strength I had when I cast that spell. So now I search, for meaning. | "Where did Hitler...Where am I?" Satan asked shocked while standing in my office. It is a completely generic one man law firm's office in a shopping mall.
I looked at my client, a seemingly homeless man who wouldn't leave until I tried his 'summoning ritual' to prove it was nonsense. Needless to say not only is it not nonsense but I somehow managed to summon Satan.
"Uh...hey boss?" I asked in disbelief as Satan turned around. Forget the image of a giant red goat or anything, he's a normal looking guy in a suit. "What just happened?"
​
Poof. A book (I'm going to assume the necronomicon or something else insane) appeared in his hand and he starts mumbling about how it must be a mistake he is Satan and all, no human could be stronger.
​
He sat frustrated. "Bring me the cult" he shouted as if to my client who was now in complete shock of what is happening. And in a puff of smoke stood Stephen I, Boniface II, Leo III, Stephen VI(I), and Pious VI who formed a circle and apparently knew what had happened.
​
"Drink?" I asked just broadly as I opened my cabinet. At this point Satan sat down and nodded, the homeless man ran to the papal circle, and I set down 2 glasses. In the coming moments I tried to make small talk while we waited.
​
"Sir, we think we figured it out." Pious VI said as he walked over. "Surely this random human cannot 'defeat' you in combat, he cannot raise an army to defeat us, but we figured it out and...Skaliton, let's be honest you just figured it out didn't you?" He asked as he noticed I was searching for a song on youtube. Needless to say I'm as childish as can be and was figuring out which song from the ace attorney series is most appropriate.
​
"Yes, the only possible way to interpret the spell that let's me win is that I'm the better attorney. So, guess I'm headed somewhere a bit warmer to...wait what cases can there possibly be in hell?" I asked.
​
"Come with me, it isn't nearly as bad as you are expecting. Seriously why does everyone think it is hot up here? Don't you know basic thermals?" Satan said while opening a portal.
​
(up...surely he means down) I thought, but no the portal took us into a nice cool conference room in the clouds. I stood there shocked.
​
"What? You were expecting me to be the bad guy? I'm the one who opposes rape, and didn't destroy humanity for not saying how great I was" Satan said after giving me a moment. "Your taking over as prosecutor so I can work on other duties it seems."
​
\_\_\_\_
​
And that is the tale of how a no-name lawyer started sending people to hell. | 2022-01-30T08:40:24 | 2022-01-30T08:26:15 | 316 | 140 |
[WP] you realise you misheard your daughter. There’s a mobster under her bed. | A bleary-eyed John gingerly pulled off his covers and rose out of bed, “Wait, huh?”
“I think there’s a mobster under my bed and my light isn’t working!” John’s ten-year-old daughter exclaimed between short, rapid breaths.
A disorientated John rubbed his eyes and began shuffling towards his daughter’s room, “A monster, Molly?”
Molly shouted, “NO DAD, A MOB-STER!”
John tried in vain to switch on the lights in the room and eventually made his way to Molly’s bed where he crouched down on his knees.
He sighed with discontent as he started to sweep his arm under Molly’s bed as she stood anxiously in the doorframe.
But John’s eyes immediately widened.
He had touched something which felt like bits of thin string that had been dipped in a vat of olive oil.
John examined his greasy finger tips in the slender streak of moonlight that seeped into Molly’s room, “That’s the hair of an Italian-American mobster alright,” he whispered to himself in disbelief.
He turned Molly who was becoming increasingly distressed, “And he keeps making these noises that sound funny,” she sobbed.
Suddenly, a stocky man wearing a navy-colored suit and clutching a panama hat scurried out from underneath the bed and growled in a thick, Brooklyn accent, “Funny how? The way I talk? Like I'm a clown? Like I’m here to fuckin’ amuse you!?”
John and Molly simultaneously screamed but were frozen in shock.
The mobster quickly rose to his feet and gestured with an open palm for the father and daughter to calm down, “Eh, eh, eh relax, I ain’t gonna hurt you.”
“W-w-what are you doing here!?” John blurted out.
The mobster pulled two, crisp hundred dollar bills from his breast pocket and placed them on Molly’s bed, “Don’t worry about it, the heat will be off by now, I’m outta here.”
The mobster’s tone became more stern as he pointed at John and Molly, “But don’t say a fuckin' thing to nobody.”
John nodded his head rapidly and watched the mobster head towards the front door.
He was so relieved he even offered the mobster some leftover penne.
The mobster was intrigued, “What sauce? Aglio e olio? Carbonara? Fresh basilico and Roma tomato?”
“I don’t know, it’s just a canned tomato sauce I picked up from the store,” John replied.
The mobster’s face cringed in disgust as he placed his crème-colored, brimmed hat gently on his head, “I’d rather get a handjob from Edward fuckin’ Scissorhands.”
_____________________________________________________
r/Dri_Writes for more light-hearted stories!
| Jenny has always struck everyone as strange, to everyone, myself included. Just last night she was craving pizza and talking in a weird Brooklyn esque accent, which was very strange, considering we lived on the west coast, she has never been in contact with anyone from that particular area. My wife and I have concluded that was just probably the television. It has got so bad that at school she has had several sessions with the elementary schools guidance counselor, a relatively young man. He had advised us to try and take her mind off of television and things that a vacation would help this. I found two days to take off work to go to a rentable cabin in the Oregon woods. We told her a day prior to this but she just replied with Anthony needs his money. I inquired, she pointed to under the bed, and with a closer look a silhouette of what was seemingly a man. The figure emerged from the darkness of Jenny's bed, "HEY, I'm sleeping here" the man grumbled in an almost unlegible dialect. And so I called the stereotypical New York mobster of italian descent extermination service. (I'm new, go easy on me.) | 2017-12-02T00:12:35 | 2017-12-01T22:22:50 | 50 | 11 |
[WP] The galaxy was amused when they learned that Humans have Rules of War. They were less amused when they figured out what Humans do in war when there are no rules. | My name is Dr. Asclepius. I am not here in the senate chambers to make any demands. I am simply an ambassador, here to speak on behalf of all humanity.
It has been a year and a half since humanity stood on the galactic stage.
But this year and a half is already filled with more bloodshed, more atrocities, and more unspeakable things than anyone in the galactic community has ever seen - save for us Humans.
Members of the Galactic Federation, you scoffed at us when we came to you, asking what the rules of war were. You assumed that we needed rules because we were weak, because we needed protection.
That is not the case, as you have unfortunately had to experience firsthand. If I could direct your attention to the screens?
This was Xyrillia, one of the largest centers of commerce in the entire galaxy, home to tens of trillions of lifeforms from a myriad of different planets.
This is it now - *completely and utterly uninhabitable.* All life, wiped from the very surface. Billions of families, all gone in an instant. The air is so toxic that spending ten seconds on the surface without protective equipment is fatal.
This is merely one example of what has occurred.
*This* is known as Operation Stardust Axis. The Mietra, pushed to the brink, when their many space colonies came crashing down onto the surfaces of their planets, turning their once great cities into desert wastelands. Very few survived.
I'm sure you remember the diseases that spread like wildfire, killing millions.
When we plunged entire systems into pitch darkness, blocking planets from receiving the light of their stars through an impenetrable nanomachine fog.
Even as I speak, nuclear fires from reactor bombs still rage on multiple inhabited planets, burning and spreading their poison.
Do you see now? These rules of war are not a shield. They are not cowardice.
They are shackles, chains, restraints upon a race that would have wiped themselves out many years ago if it did not have them.
When you declared war upon humanity, you removed the seal on a monster that no human wishes to see themselves become.
In the course of this war, many a human has done things that would make them shoot up in their beds screaming from the sins that they carry.
I myself am a physician, widely considered to be one of, if not the greatest of the medical minds of my race, rather fitting, considering my name. When one learns how to heal in any field, they also learn how to kill someone in the most horrific and awful ways possible.
I've studied each of the species here on an operating table. I could easily stitch together your wounds, cure you of your ailments, provide prostheses that function just as well and perhaps even better than the original - and just as easily remove your organs and bones one-by-one in alphabetical order while you are still alive. I could formulate a gene-altering disease that would render all living members of your race completely infertile. I could create machines that slowly liquefy you from the inside-out and convert you into biofuel.
When one becomes a physician, they are to take an oath to do no harm, for this very reason.
And yet, even I am not innocent. I have broken that oath many a time because of this war.
These hands of mine have done unforgivable things to the innocent, to mothers, to children.
So please, I implore you on behalf of all humanity - stop this war, before all of us are lost. The laws of war are in place to ensure that we are better than beasts. I would ask that we all adhere to them, if not for ourselves, then for our children.
>Human ambassador Dr. Asclepius's message to the Galactic senate, shortly before the surrender of the Federation, putting an end to the bloody 'Lawless War.' | August 18th, 4057:
Fuckin Xeno scum got carpet bombed and napalmed into non-existence. That's the 8th or so planet that's been given the "Ring of Fire" treatment. We've been blasting "Napalm Sticks To Kids" at them for a while before flattening them. Apparently some other species are more vulnerable to psychological warfare. They're saying this is just the start.
August 27th, 4057:
The Xenos have started running whenever they hear those songs. We're taking prisoners without even trying. I don't know where they take the prisoners. But judging by the large holes that we're digging, I think I know what's happening.
August 28th, 4057:
Jesus Christ. We're digging the holes so parents can execute their women and children, then they castrate themselves. We're making them cut their fucking balls off. What the actual shit are we doing here? We have rules for a reason. I guess this is psychological warfare, but... Christ.
September 14th, 4057:
The Xenos called for a surrender. We refused. I don't know what the President's doing, but I don't much care for it. I can't deal with the screams anymore. If they try and flee we blow them up. If they try and fight we blow them up. Half the time if they surrender we blow them up. The rest of the time? Read my previous entry.
September 17th, 4057:
They've offered unconditional surrender. We keep refusing. I'm sick. I can't do this anymore. I put in a leave request.
September 18th, 4057:
It was denied.
October 21st, 4057:
It's been a while. We're still fighting. But I wouldn't call it fighting, it's systematic torture and genocide of a species. We're at their homeworld though. It can't last much longer.
December 18th 4057:
We gathered up every last of their species in the galaxy. It took months but we did it. We put them all in one spot. Then we threw White Phosphorus on them. We recorded it. We sent it to the Counsel. Rules of War are being put in place. Was it worth it? | 2022-01-23T19:51:14 | 2022-01-23T19:44:59 | 60 | 38 |
[WP] A society where everyone is born gender less, and has to pick a gender by their 18th birthday. | After the clinic, there'd be a party. Either decision would be celebrated, but if I came out a woman the party would be huge - only 20% of kids decided to become women, and there was enormous pressure to increase that number. Everyone in my class had been engulfed by pro-female advertisements our entire adolescence, complete with classes that emphasized how much the risks had been reduced in recent years, all the pleasures of being female, all the social protections and perks, the stronger orgasms, the joys of babies and children. We'd also all had our share of suitors; there were so few women that many men resorted to propositioning teens, with contracts for life-style guarantees in exchange for insemination rights. Even if your fertility failed all treatments. And all allowed sex or marriage with whoever you wanted, of course. But these contracts included all the same strict lifestyle clauses that we'd seen our mothers live with, to protect them from any harm from crime or health hazards, and to protect the young babies still under their care - you live under the thumb of your doctors, and "responsible" women live in maternity residencies with high security and follow community lifestyle programs that many said were basically prison-like.
But security was necessary, because there was a thriving black market for cheaters - organizations that kidnapped women, especially if they lived alone with their husband instead of a facility, and aborted whoever's baby they were carrying, and inseminated their own. And their facilities were nasty and brutal.
Women were celebrated, women were a national treasure, and becoming one was a highly appreciated life-long service and sacrifice everyone respected. But I wasn't sure I wanted a career of baby incubating, of being eyed my whole life like prey the way that a few of the suitors had - imagining wider hips, and breasts, and a baby bump on my still clearly young, neuter frame (so gross!). Of needing permission and chaperons to go out. I think I wanted freedom more than I wanted children.
Of course, I wasn't looking forward to harboring that "sexual drive" myself either, which was, if you asked some religions, the punishment men suffered for failing to make the sacrifice. Longings, frustration, and obsession with female bodies. They said women had similar longings, but their larger source of grief was clearly what they suffered when their children moved to live with their fathers full-time. Which was nothing compared to the grief of men who never know the fulfillment of achieving fatherhood - the bane of modern society, the masculine obsession with having babies.
But women have to endure childbirth, and significantly shorter lifespans ("which is natural for women", we were taught in school - "part of the sacrifice of taking on the gender, and no, women's lifespans can not be increased by having fewer babies, that is a dangerous myth!").
We pulled into the clinic. Etched on the glass of the sliding doors was a reminder for every 18 year old who came through, "Be Fearless - Do what is in your heart." With posters of babies, and beautiful, joyful women, and a few smiling but dull looking men, lining the hallway. Not subtle at all.
What is in my heart? I want to stay neuter.
My Dad comes to stand beside me and takes one hand, and my Mother, 8 months pregnant, and out with very special permission from her Doctor for this occasion, takes my other hand. Together they march me in. | "So... What do you choose?" The doctor asked.
There were two pills in either of his hands; one was blue, the other pink. A life where you grow up to be either a boy or girl and I didn't bother to ever look into it. What do I want?
Do I prefer being male? Waking up to find a razor and cream, the feeling of the blade running across my jaw. Walking down the stairs to find a curvacious, beautiful woman making me breakfast in the morning. I grab her from behind and feel her breasts near my chest as I hug her. I love the look of male fashion; very prim, proper, and clean. A man with a nice, clean stubble is perfect. I've wanted that look for a while.
Or do I prefer being female? Waking up next to a muscularly perfect man. Tiptoeing away from him to get into the shower. Then going down the stairs to cook breakfast for him. He hugs me and I feel safe in his muscular arms. Women fashion is more beautiful and elegant; more focus on grace and body image. I am smitten with it. It makes me feel free, yet normal. Me with a nice ponytail would be a nice image to think of.
"I think I have it Doc." I said.
*A few days later*
"I did it. I did it... for... for you. I-I love you and I want you to be mine." I said.
"I'm sorry, I love you too. But I couldn't wait for you. I went with John. He was there for me when I was lonely." Abby said.
And there I was, stuck with the body of man. Looking for the one person I truly loved, who had replaced me with another. | 2014-07-01T01:23:07 | 2014-06-30T23:33:05 | 49 | 15 |
[WP] The alien invaders were confident. Their personal shield tech had withstood all enemies and types of energy weapons. Then they landed on Earth and found the shield's fatal flaw: Solid Projectiles. | "Dad? How did you manage to beat those aliens back then?"
"Hmm... should I tell you? Ah whatever, you're old enough."
"It was the summer of 2050 when they called out to us, not even in our orbit, with just a single demand in tow: surrender everything to the Kal'ikeen empire, or be turned to dust.
As you know, my son, we don't give up that easy.
In a panicked frenzy, all major armed forces gave up massive contingents of soliders and the united earth army was born.
We thought it would be like that old movie, indipendence day, was it?
Hard battle, cities gone, then boom, some hero discovers their extremely advanced weakness and we turn it in one decisive battle."
"Was it like that, dad?"
"Not quite."
The father chuckled to himself.
"I for my part, was not a member of the U.E.A. , i was part of the residual forces meant to keep the peace while the bulk of our powers were gone. Terrorists and other baddies don't just stop when we talk about beating back aliens."
"Wait, if you were at home, how did get to kick those alien's butts?"
"Thing was, they weren't all too dumb.
They deployed EMP's all over, kneecapped our comms big. Some of our infrastructure was resistant, but we can't route all the information over that small bandwith.
It would be like shoving a whole train through a rabbit hole.
And so, we were in the dark, basically. One massive dropship landed, not on our armed forces, but close to my squad, actually.
We jumped into the trucks and started racing there.
Some massive floating fortress came down.
It looked everything and nothing like in the movies.
Bright lights were scarce, only when the enemy stepped out, did we see any light.
The ships instead were vantablack, pure and massive darkness."
"Woah. What happened when you got there?"
"Well, they were lined up already.
Ugly, rainbow-like skin with just eerie, prehensile hair coming out of their chests.
While they were ugly as sin, they did not seem to have any armor on them.
Only a few bracelet-like, glowy rings and what i could best call a backpack."
"Wait, they sound like the monsters from Terra defense force!"
"Might be. Footage of the aliens is rare. The phones were fried due to the EMP after all.
Not surprising that some guy would just put them in a game.
Anyway, the boys saw those ugly freaks and decided to lay low.
I-... i will have to be honest with you, my boy.
I was not smart back then, i was 3 parts fury, 2 parts stupid.
I got my war buddy to join me: your uncle Johnny."
"Uncle Johnny?! He never told me about that!"
"He was just as stupid as I was.
And so, we took off, he as driver, me as gunner.
We just went for it, thinking we were invincible.
He just pulled one massive circle around them.
Plasma shots whirred past and other really weird explosives nearly blew us up, but Johnny is a virtuoso behind the wheel.
We got closer and closer, till I started firing the mounted gatling gun."
"Were they hard to kill?"
"Not one bit.
You see, son, these aliens knew a thing or two about futuristic warfare. They had shields capable of straight up nullifying any sort of energy thrown their way.
Which is also why radar systems and the like just couldn't spot them.
Heck, they even blocked sunlight, as we found out after."
"So how did you get them so easily?"
"We have the most primitive but optimised weaponry possible.
Fast flying small things.
Their shields were not equipped to deal with our earth weaponry.
I just held down the trigger, screaming and feeling like Rambo.
We shredded those xenos. Once I finally was done shooting, that being because I ran out of ammo, they were all dead.
All their shiny stuff couldn't protect them from mankind and the power of BLAM!
What happened here happened all over the globe.
It was the most underwhelmingly easy landslide of a victory we humans had ever achieved together."
"And for that, you got your shiny medals, right?"
"Yup. Two medals for the most brave heroes in a hundred kilometer radius: Leeroy and Johnny Jenkins." | With alarms blaring that Secondary Waveformer Yamblo had not heard since the training amplifiers, they sawtoothed their foreridges and managed to stabilise the shields for at least a moment.
The Command Crest looked completely different in the angry bleen light of the emergency systems. As Yamblo took in the fractured and kinked curves of what had been most of the senior commanding officers, they repressed a snurge and slowly realised they were now the ranking Operator on the ship.
Which meant the Qing Navigator's angry and repeated questions were aimed at them.
"What in the Sinusode is going on! Somewave answer me!"
Yamblo scrunkled the screens again to double check before they folded a reply;
"It seems as if there's... Matter, Highnesses. Matter everywhere!"
Outside the viewcurve was more bleen, but not from the emergency lights. As impossible as it seemed, the entire naval waveform seemed to be approaching some sort of unmoving circular entity, hanging in space and getting larger rapidly.
"Matter?! Ridiculous. There is not enough matter in the universe to affect us at this scale! What is really going on here?!"
This should have been a question for a Sinetender, but one look at the scattered amplitudes of the science lens was enough to know there would be no more responses from them.
"We don't know Hignesses. This was meant to be a trivial absorption - we detected less than 50 lumens from the destination! If our the signal was clear there should be nothing else here. Potentially... was there was an error in the course?"
Yamblo krinkled twice, first from the impertinence of their question, and then again as the shield array flattened sharply.
The Qing's nodes cascaded in rage, amplitude fully focused on Yamblo.
"An error? AN ERROR!? We have NEVER made an error! The signal was clear, if there is a flaw it is in the Operators! Stabilise the ship, we will maintain course as planned!"
"Highnesses, there is almost nothing left to stabilise! Look at the viewcurve, if we are in the correct place then there is something else going on here!"
As the shield array dispersed entirely Yamblo discarded all etiquette and unfurled towards the shocked Qing, the strange circle outside growing ever larger.
"Error or not we are being battered by Matter! We must change frequency immediately unless the entire waveform becom..
​
​
On Earth, the failed extra-galactic assault went almost unnoticed as the naval waveform collapsed into incoherence and hit the South Dakotan LZ Dark Matter detector.
In fact, the only person to notice the unnatural blur of multicoloured light as the armada sped through the atmosphere was a small town small town school superintendent, who took the strange lightshow as a sign his least favourite principal had actually been telling the truth for once. | 2022-07-23T09:07:41 | 2022-07-23T07:34:19 | 48 | 31 |
[WP] you are a powerful warlock that has retired to raise your daughter everything's been going well that is until a couple of her classmates try to sacrifice her after reading about a 'dark spell' online, you've decided to show them what real black magic looks like | Lewish had been the greatest ever dark mage the academy had seen. He was lauded and celebrated. He was the one who could finally restore their once glorious past. Consequently all of his tutors had been enraged when he met and fell in love with the healer.
Lewish had given up almost everything for his love. Even he was astounded that he could feel such things. He’d been an empty void as a youth. Perfectly suited to controlling the void. Love has a weird way of showing up unexpectedly.
Honestly he thought that it would be impossible for him to love another person as much. Then his son and daughter were born. He would go into the very depths of the void for those tiny beings.
As they grew so did his love for them. Even as a teenager, annoying and adamant about everything, he loved his little girl. So when her protective wards flared, his entire being was focused on her and her alone.
Lewish summoned his familiar and sent the creature off to find Sara. His wife would not like that he was doing black magic again, but they had an agreement. The children had to be protected at all costs. Especially from his enemies.
Who was it that was harming his daughter? Was it his former mentors?
With a few simple sigils on his dining room floor, Lewish had the teleportation spell primed to go. The wards on his children would protect them even from a major void dweller, only the power of his tutors combined could break them.
So he was deeply surprised to find a few pimply teenagers around the badly drawn pentagram. The candles were totally inappropriate, none of them were of a high quality required for spells. As he stood there surveying the room, Lewish’s blood ran cold.
The fools were attempting to sacrifice his daughter to summon a void master. Even he could not contain such a creature. The only thing saving the planet from their stupidity was his wards.
They hadn’t seen him yet so he cast a light bending spell and called for his fellow void wielders. With a pop the five of them arrived at his side.
“These fools are trying to summon a void master by sacrificing my daughter. I propose that we fulfill their desires.” The cruel smiles twisted all six faces. None would harm the offspring of a void wielder without retribution from the order.
Bursting forward the group disarmed and bound the six teens. A few of them wet themselves, seeing real dark magic could have that effect.
Lewish released his daughter from the bonds and embraced her, before teleporting her to her mother’s side. The girl needed healing and his magic could only destroy.
As the parent of the intended victim, his fellows let him lead.
“Who here is in charge?!” His voice was infused with the void and chaos. To their ears he was death incarnate. They should be so lucky.
The group all pointed to one especially pimpled boy. A person that had been a nuisance to his daughter in the past. The eyes of the group all focused on him.
“She’s a slut and she wouldn’t give me any. I wanted to make her suffer. She laughed at me!”
“So you decided to summon a void master?” The cold death in his voice was working on the boy. He was sweating and started crying.
“Please, I’m sorry, I didn’t think that anything would actually happen!” Sobbing and straining against his magical bonds, the boy pleaded for his life.
“You foolishly decided to play with dark magic you do not understand, because a girl rejected you?”
“Yes”
“Well today is your lucky day. For the six of my companions and I are in fact quite adept at wielding the void. Unfortunately it will also be your last day”
The other teenagers started crying and begging for their lives. Lewish didn’t pay attention to them. His daughter had been crying and begging for her life as they prepared to sacrifice her. Why should he pay them any courtesy?
The void wielders stepped to the edge of the pentagram and drew their own spell. No use destroying the planet for revenge. A barrier was set and the teens were dumped inside. Their bonds cut to give them a fighting chance.
Tanith’s voice boomed out “if any of you survive a minute against the void master, I will train you on how to wield the void. But you must give up everything including your arms. That is the bargain I offer”
Tanith could easily craft them replacement arms, it was a fair deal.
The spell thrummed to life, a gateway opening in front of the terrified eyes of the youngsters. Out stepped the void master, a creature of rippling shadows and fear drenched the room.
“Ah, Lewish, we finally meet. What’s this, some toys for my sport?! You are most generous. I shall even forgive you for summoning me.”
The insult to the void master of being summoned like a mere familiar was extreme. Lewish had to offer a gift to appease it.
“These youths were attempting to summon you by sacrificing my daughter. As they were so determined to meet you, I asked my companions for assistance”
Lewish bowed to the creature, it did well to be respectful when dealing with void masters.
“Tanith has offered that they may train to wield void if they survive your ministrations. That boy there was the leader”
The void master made an approximation of a smile, then engulfed the whole area within the barrier. Lewish and his companions listened to the screams and pleading impassively. After three minutes there was one small statured girl, bent over her knees and crying, hands wrapped over her head. The others were all dismembered and unrecognisable.
The void master reformed itself and stood over her.
“This one has survived my test. You may train her.” Then the creature reversed the summons and went back to the void.
Tanith waited until the barrier was dismantled before gripping her arm and forcing her to stand.
“Lesson one of void wielding, do not do what you do not understand.” Her screams as her arms were ripped off were cut short by the sealing spell. The girl fainted and Lewish bid his companions farewell. His daughter needed him…
When Lewish stepped back into his living room, his daughter was there crying her heart out, with her mother’s healing magic slowly taking effect. Sara looked at him over the top of his daughters head.
“Do I want to know what happened?”
“They will never harm anyone again. A valuable lesson was learned today”
“Did any of them survive?”
“Yes”
Lewish sat beside his daughter and dismissed his void magic. It was time to be a father again. The mage could rest. | Something dashed by out of the corner of Rex's vision. Old reflexes kicked in and he turned just in time to see Sarah's fleeing form. That was when new instincts kicked in. He was not well versed in the ways of teenage girls, but he knew enough to know that something was wrong. And something wrong with her meant something was wrong with him.
He rushed off, seeing his daughter slam the door to her room. He placed his ear against the door, and blessedly did not hear any crying. If he had, he would have immediately gone on a rampage. As it was, he heard nothing. A quick glance down the hallway showed no signs of his wife, so he took a risk. Not a big risk, but still a risk.
He reached inside himself and felt the dark power, dormant for years, inside of him. A quick spiritual poke woke it up just enough that he could access a tiny bit of it. Enough to cast All-Seeing Eye. The power bent to his will, and showed him what he wanted to see. His baby girl, sitting on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest and rocking back and forth. Rex's eye twitched. Someone had done something to Sarah. As far as he was concerned, that was a crime that not even death was enough for.
He knocked on the door. "Sarah, honey, is something wrong?"
"Go away." Came the reply. His magical sight told him she was looking at the door. Almost hopefully.
"No, I don't think I will. I'm coming in."
He peaked through, acting as if he did not already know what was on the other side.
"Go away, Dad." She said again.
Instead, Rex joined her on the bed, and placed a comforting hand on her back.
"Tell me what's wrong, baby girl."
She remained filled with teenage stubbornness. A tiny application of magic solved that. Just a slight emotional manipulation spell. Not nearly enough to override her will. Just enough to make her open up and talk.
"Come on, Sarah. It's me. You know you can tell me anything, right?"
The girl groaned, but began talking. "I was hanging out with some people at school."
"Not boys, I hope?"
"Maybe." She said sheepishly. Rex's eye twitched. "I-It wasn't like that, Dad, I promise. Besides, you know both of them. Roger Haverman, Julian Scott and Henry Klein."
"Oh, those three. Okay then." They were harmless enough. Two had girlfriends already, and one was--very poorly--trying to remain in the closet. "So, what about them?"
"Well, they asked me and a few others to help them with something they saw online. Said it was really cool, dark gothic stuff. I was the only one who accepted, because, why not, right?"
"And?"
"And I get to their place and they show me the website. It's the compendium of dark magic. Real devil worship stuff. Black candles, pentagrams and all that."
That made Rex perk up. It was probably just a group of idiots playing pretend, but he had seen a few real dark rituals online. Some idiot had posted them from his grimoire for some reason. He suspected Aluicious. That guy was an idiot.
"Okay, so they need a fourth to cast the spell?"
"That's what they said. They started getting the spell ready when I see the ingredients. One of them is a human sacrifice."
Rex's blood ran cold. The dark power began stirring, churning. It was ready to be used for more than a few parlor tricks again.
"They tried to use you then?"
Sarah nodded. "I saw Roger pulling a knife and everything. I was able to get away by throwing stuff at them and running until I couldn't. I guess they didn't feel like chasing me after awhile."
"Good girl. I'm glad you're okay." He pulled her in close, giving her the best dad-hug he could. "And don't worry about those three. I'll talk to a few people and make sure they don't try something like this again."
Sarah leaned into her father, resting her head on his shoulder. "Yeah. Thanks, Dad."
"Of course, baby girl. I'll make sure nothing bad happens to you."
He barely contained the power. The moment he was able to, he made a bee-line for the basement. All his old equipment was there. Those three wanted to play warlock? Wanted to try black magic for fun? Well, he would show them what real power was. He would make them regret trying to use his daughter as a sacrifice.
A knife came out and cut open his wrist. Blood pooled on the floor. A smile crept across his lips. For those three fools, death was about to become a mercy. | 2021-09-04T23:34:49 | 2021-09-04T18:47:20 | 212 | 140 |
[WP] You are a supervillain infamous for kidnapping attractive members of the opposite sex. While everyone thinks you are evil, you are really just being a wingman for your superhero rival. | Listen, let's make one thing clear right off the bat—I don't like Spark-girl. Not in the very slightest. She's loud and annoying, her outfit is stupid and impractical, and she keeps wrecking every single hideout I find within a week. And her name. Her superhero name is really stupid. The woman can *shoot lightning* for crying out loud, that is the lamest thing you could name yourself. If I was lucky enough to have lightning powers I'd name myself something properly badass and terrifying. But I don't. Sucks to suck.
Anyway, Sparky here is just plain dumb, alright? Stupidly emotional. The tiniest thing will happen and it sets her off, messes her up in the head. Like, a building burns to the ground (not my fault) and she gets the dozens of people inside out except one old lady. The old lady kicks it before she can get to her. And she'll let that thing hang over her till you can see the literal rainclouds above her head. See? If I was a superhero, and thank god I'm not, I'd chalk that up as a huge success. That's, like, a 99% success rate. I *wish* I had a 99% success rate.
But you see what I mean. Sparky here. Gets upset over stupid things, can't do her job properly for a week. Now listen, *I* don't really care about her emotional state. The woman publicly declared me to be her "arch-nemesis," that's kinda around when I stopped caring. You know what I care about? When something rattles her to the point where she can't do her job properly for two freaking months, and I've wiped the floor with her so many times that it's gotten boring, and the other superheroes are talking about letting her take a break and putting some other hero on the job to beat me up on a regular basis.
Uh, no. Believe it or not, I'd prefer Spark-girl. She isn't a great hero, but as much as I really, really hate to admit it I'm not very high on the supervillain tier list, and I don't want to take my chances with Panther Claw or someone who might go all-out and reduce me to a pulp on the pavement. I will say this about Sparky: she hasn't killed me yet, out of some weird moral code on her part. Good for me. I like living.
Anyways, I knew two months was way too long for this to be some run-of-the-mill heroic moral dilemma. So I stalked her for a little while. I needed to know what had gotten her like this. It took me way longer than I was hoping it would, but after I pickpocketed her phone and read through all of her texts (would not recommend the experience, 0/10) I figured it out. Are you ready?
Spark-girl broke up with her boyfriend.
Listen, Sparky: on the sliding scale of world-shaking catastrophes, this does not even register as something noteworthy.
But hey, at least the problem had an easy solution. Kidnapping.
(Kidnapping is always the solution.)
So I started kidnapping men. That sounds a little bad, but I was getting a little desperate. Word had come down the supervillain grapevine that Inferno had volunteered to keep an eye on me while Spark-girl took a vacation, which was the absolute worst-case scenario. Inferno would have obliterated me from the face of this earth. A few of the other supervillains were already asking me what color flowers I wanted at my funeral. Therefore, the kidnapping.
I did it very methodically. Read a lot of dating profiles. Even had a spreadsheet that organized all the victims by personality and physical appearance. I think she might have a thing for redheads. I'll need more data to draw a conclusion though—it's only been twelve dudes so far and that's not really enough to determine a trend.
It's sort-of working, though. Sparky is still upset all the time. She still lets it get to her. I enjoy beating her up a little more, these days. Consider it payment for all the hours I spend on dating sites doing research for this moron.
"Wicked Witch, why are you doing this?" she says today, lightning crackling from her fists as she faces me across a rooftop. I'm not in a good mood. Man #13 must have taken some crazy martial art classes as a kid because he actually did a number on me when I went to retrieve him.
"Trope subversion," I reply. "Reverse sexism. I'm really bored. Take your pick."
She beats me up extra badly for that. But she also smiles at Man #13 when she helps him up, so it's something.
------
EDIT: Thank you for the lovely comments, everyone! Sadly I don't think there'll be a part 2 to this, I really only intended it to be a stand-alone sort of thing. :( But who knows? | "Please! Someone help me!" Yelled the woman as I swooped her into the sky.
"Why?!" She screamed at me, panic hinting in her voice. "What have I done?"
I stared at her, my mask a deadpan expression, as we ascended higher and higher into the air.
"Please!" She yelled. "How could you be so heartless!"
The words stung like a knife. If only she could know. If only I could tell her. I wished to just tell them, tell them that I didn't *want* to do this. But no, I couldn't. He commanded me, and so I did. Without him, I was nothing.
"You must pay for crimes of your gender." I said, expressionless. It hurt me even to say those words, though I had already said it a dozen times. But I had to. Every time, it was what I had to say. He demanded it. His plan worked, of course. It always did. I would lurk in the dark, staying hidden, until I could find an extremely attractive woman, and then I would kidnap her. I would carry her away into the sky, ignoring her cries of panic and despair, and bring her back to my lair. His lair. He would be there, of course, to put on a show of an intense battle, eventually defeating me and saving the lady. He would then fly away the woman, who always felt indebted to him. He would then offer to take them out for a night to remember, using that blasted smile of his, as a way for him to "make it up to her" for her traumatic experience. And it always worked. Every time. He tricked them, and they always fell for it.
I waited for her response, her harsh accusation, or her fearful cry.
Nothing came.
Instead, she looked at me. Her eyes seemed to *soften.*
"Who hurt you?" She asked, her voice barely audible over the deafening roar of the wind.
I faltered, taken back for a moment. No women had ever asked me that. Each one had cried, pleaded, and yelled. A few had tried to talk to me, but only in an attempt to escape. This was different. No one had ever *cared.*
I looked at her, her face a mixture of fear and worry. But there was something else there. Even in the face of certain danger, there was a hint of something else... It was almost as if...she cared. She cared about the man who had just kidnapped her, the man who had shown no regard for her life.
*Who was she?* I wondered, suddenly uncertain. I looked at the tall, dark, looming building that was approaching in the distance. I looked at her.
I stopped flying, immediately heading the other direction.
I would not let him have her.
No matter the cost.
***
Enjoy the writing and would like to follow along and see more stories? Consider subscribing to [r/ConlehWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/ConlehWrites/)!
Will write a part two below and on my subreddit! (I love this prompt, my plan is to revise this response a little bit to make it more detailed, post it on my subreddit and maybe write a three part series today to this).
Here is part two! [Part Two!](https://redd.it/6oyov9)
| 2017-07-22T19:48:32 | 2017-07-22T16:47:28 | 1,467 | 774 |
[WP] You are one of the most feared villainesses in the world. Evil armies, dark powers, you have it all. Your husband on the other hand is the exact opposite, being truly kind and mild mannered. He is still supportive of your endeavors, even trying to be a villain himself to...varying results. | My husband... Is an an interesting man. Not that bright, but truly kind, caring, and compassionate.
I am not.
They called me the Rose when I was a girl. Too beautiful for words, too graceful for a poem, too lovely for a song. I caught the eye of a King. He married me within weeks. He was dead within months.
I am ambitious, spiteful, and cruel. I took my armies and I conquered and I kept conquering, outfoxing, seducing, and outmanouvering every general who stood in my path. Until I came upon a land with powers even my armies could not match.
So I found someone who knew these powers, and I tortured him for their secrets. When I called the devil to sell my soul for power, he said my soul wasn't worth much but he'd gladly take my beauty. My lovely face, soft skin, and lithe body. I agreed. Beauty gave me power over men, the devil gave me power over all.
Now, I rule over the continent. The dead rise at my command, the living bow at my feet, and the millions who call me sovereign toil in the dust at my command.
My new husband was employed in my first husband's army. He wasn't a soldier or general. He works in logistics.
As it turns out, the phrase 'an army marches on its stomach' is very accurate. We would have never gotten very far without supply lines.
Whilst his conversation is dull, and he has no appreciation for the arts, the man does know how to organise things. He finds untold joy in neatly totted numbers and the latest maps drawn by the cartographers. I honestly couldn't have done this without him.
Of course, I didn't have to marry him. I didn't for a long time in fact, after all what is the appeal in such a man?
We met when I was The Rose. A newly widowed queen, on a new throne, with a husband dead under suspicious circumstances. And he did not laugh at my ambition. He set up meetings with generals, organised my calender, and earnestly protested my innocence to those who asked.
He makes sure that my advisors don't bother me after dinner. He personally tells the chefs that I hate onion in my food, so it's never served. He looked me in the eye once the devil took my beauty and said that he was glad I'd kept my soul.
Initially, he did think I was innocent. However, after 20 years of marriage he just accepts my 'quirks'. He now works for my government, trying to impress me with his latest 'evil' scheme. "What is more torturous then school?" He asks hopefully. His 'dastardly' plan for enforced slavery turned out to be an employment plan for the disadvantaged. His 'deep government' brainwashing scheme is... Healthcare.
Bless him. Yet I can't help but indulge him. | I was in an especially grumpy mood. I don't mind it when people leave books on the trolley, or just lying about. But I truly despise it when people think they're doing a good deed but are actually putting them back in the wrong place! It must have shown on my face, but I'm glad it did, otherwise I may not have met him.
\---
The more I read, the more I realised that I had the power to really make a difference in society. I didn't ask for these supernatural powers, but I do feel a sense of moral obligation to do something with them. I've got a lot of people backing me, literally an army, but through the lens of society we are viewed as doers of evil. To be honest I'm fine with that, but who said that deeds of evil had to be done at night?! I just wish we could go on dinner dates.
\---
I was careless. How could I have not asked where he worked?! Even though I have a mask on, I can tell he knows it's me. Oh my god this is so awkward.
\---
I was scared, and didn't know what to expect. But with his gentle smile and soft touch, his two words were all I needed to hear.
"It's okay." | 2020-04-14T08:29:24 | 2020-04-14T06:18:39 | 146 | 73 |
[WP] An alien nation descends upon earth. Their assault is... incredibly underwhelming.
Take "incredibly underwhelming" however you want.
Examples: They do nothing but inconvience you. They're so weak they get bullied by grade schoolers. Their laser technology doesn't even burn a hole in your woolen sweater as even sheep have surpassed them.
Whatever you like. | Humanity banded together nearly a decade ago, the aliens ship was after all easily detected. The massive nuclear engines they utilized poured out radiation and energy easily visible for light years even before they entered the heliosphere of the solar system.
At first some scientists feared we were about to witness a Gamma Ray burst, but the fact that the radiation pulsed in a regular matter made it clear that it was artificial. It was an alien ship decelerating from close to 80% light speed. The radiation bursts were from the nuclear weapons they were using to propel themselves. We had looked at doing something similar in the midst of the cold war, Project Orion it was called. If you want to get close to light speed use a few thousand nuclear explosions to push you up to that speed, and a few thousand more to slow you down.
So we knew they were coming, for more than a decade we knew. Humanity at first panicked, nearly every major city suffered from riots and unrest. Aliens were on their way towards our solar system, and they were using nuclear weapons to do so.
After the panic died, and we continued to watch something strange happened. Those petty little wars and disagreements around the globe slowly petered out. They didn't stop entirely, man has always, and will always be, should always be at war with himself.
The Nations of the world large and small came together, we all looked up in fear as we did so at the incoming craft. The United States, China, Russia, every military force around the world pooled their resources. The aliens could not be allowed to reach Earth.
Within two years the first primitive battleship was launched, aptly named Endurance she was the most expensive piece of equipment every built. Each of the larger nations poured almost their entire GDP into her construction. She was the first craft to be built entirely in orbit and she was the pride of humanity. Nearly 75 meters long and 20 meters wide she was not the massive hulking battle ships we had imagined, but she functioned.
Like the aliens ships she was nuclear powered, her main method of propulsion above earth were small plasma rockets but once far enough from the atmosphere she too would throw nuclear weapons from her belly to propel herself.
The smaller nations of Earth collected themselves, and trained those who would fight on the ground. the largest armies in history were created, armies that did not belong to one nation but instead stood to protect the entire world. The massive amount of industry that spawned to create these armies, and ships pulled many nations out of economic strife, and sent others spiraling down into it.
Not that it mattered, every company every individual with money thought not to hoard it but to push it forwards, after all what was the point of wealth on a destroyed world?
By the time 8 years had passed Humanity stood ready.
The fleet of three Endurance class Ships were launched, along with their supply vessel to intercept the alien ship which was still slowing. It was now visible in the night sky and had long ago entered the orbit of Jupiter.
The three ships would intercept it just inside the orbit of Mars.
Humanity watched, everyone feared that the three ships would not be enough. After all these aliens had the technology to traverse the stars. The three ships would slow the enemy, give us information about them.
Soon the night sky was alight with another blaze of light, not from the alien ship but from our own. So close to one another that they appeared to be a single nuclear blaze.
Humanity watched as the two points of light in the sky moved slowly closer and closer to one another.
Then, the alien one died.
Scientists confused looked back at their charts, and consulted with one another, argued and fought.
The ship was still on it's way but it was no longer slowing. Now traveling faster than our ships that could intercept it the three human battleships watched as they failed in their mission and the alien craft shot past them towards the Earth.
Humanity stood resolute, ready to fight.
Two years later the alien craft passed, it simply flew between the Earth and the moon. We for the first time got our glimpse at it. A solid hunk of metal the only thing on it's surface were instruments. hundreds of thousands of cameras, sensors, radios, the craft looked down at us.
Every communication system on Earth was overwhelmed as it shot past. It sent out a massive signal in one direction, towards Epsilon Eridani. A small system 14 light years from Earth.
Humanity watched as the craft passed us by and dove into the sun.
It was unmanned, it was a probe.
After all who invades without first scouting?
---
/r/HFY I hang out over their a lot writing, come join us where Humans can be awesome!
Also my personal subreddit.
/r/cgwilliam where I also write. | Mleep rose from his slumber. Today would be the day that this planet fell to the mighty wrath of mleep. Mleep was a hero, a soldier and a magnificent lover, the later being proved by countless sighs of tender pleasure. Mleep had been sent to earth by his overlords to do one thing. He knew what he had to do and he reveled in the fact that today this small blue planet would fall. Mleep put on his exo suit and picked up his galactic plasma blaster. He ventured out of his space ship and breathed in deeply. He would begin in this field of tall plant matter, he would murder and plunder his way through every being on this planet. He would start with this small furry being.
He sauntered up to it and spoke the words. The words were but a formality and he knew them by heart. Quickly he muttered them "bow before me being, you have been conquered, chose your death. " the small furry being did not react nor did Mleep expect it to. He aimed his plasma blaster and started to activate the death blast. Suddenly he paused, was it, was this thing, mocking him? It was just laying there licking its appendage with not a care in the world. Mleep became angry "bow before Mleep, lesser being"! He bellowed. The small furry creature just stared at him and continued with the appendage grooming.
Mleep decided he would dispatch this creature by hand. He put his hand in the place where its heart should be and instantly recoiled with shock. It was warm, it was warm and, what's this, are those the toes of beans? He was astounded at how this creature so much resembled the revered and much honored thronax of his home planet. He steeled his reserve and went to rip out its heart, but the thing merely rolled onto its other side and made a slight noise. Uncanny how much it reminded him of a thronax. From its sharp little ear flaps to its long rear whip fluff. Mleep thought back to the teachings of the great ones. It is said that the thronax must not be harmed, the thronax are the gatekeepers and as such are to be tolerated and cared for. Mleep wondered if this was some kind of trick. Was this an ancient ancestor of the beloved thronax? The creature gazed at him and Mleep slowly allowed himself to stroke the small furry creature. Then the most amazing thing happened. It started to vibrate and Mleep knew he couldn't harm this creature. He knew what this was, it was a test from the ancient ones. Mleep bowed to the revered one and slowly backed away. He was so in awe of this finding that he went back to his ship and sat down, his faith shattered. He had traveled so far yet he couldn't find it in himself to harm this planet. For if the beloved and revered thronax made its home here, surely this was one of the chosen placed just like his home planet. Mleep pushed a button and the reactor drives rumbled to life. He was halfway to sector 23 when it finally dawned on him, that the creature was part of a conspiracy, surely a trap. | 2016-02-22T13:17:54 | 2016-02-22T10:30:41 | 44 | 20 |
[WP] You're not the protagonist. You know you're not the protagonist. The protagonist knows you're not the protagonist. Literally everyone else thinks you're the protagonist because you have bright blue hair.
edit: Thanks for the gold | "At last, I've caught up with you, Blue Bolt!" Dr. Sinclair stopped, and his visage suddenly went from maniacal to calm. "You have no idea how long I've been rehearsing that line. I sound like a proper villain, don't I?" He chuckled.
"I've got good news and bad news," I replied. "The bad news is, I'm not _actually_ the Blue Bolt."
"I suppose you just _happened_ to wake up this morning with bright blue hair, and you just _happened_ to be wearing your Blue Bolt pajamas." The sarcasm was thick. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous it is that you parade about the city wearing those glorified underpants in public?"
"They are silly, aren't they?" I watch his face, and see surprise give way to suspicion. "I can prove it. Have one of your henchmen get my wallet. It's in my front left pocket." I paused, and spoke what was on my mind. "I hope you won't kill me before you hear the good news."
He stared at me with overt disgust. "Fine, check his wallet. We'll play your little game." I could see the muscle in his jaw working. His fists clenched and unclenched. He was fighting the urge to monologue.
"Do you know what the problem with heroes is?" Looks like he couldn't hold out any longer. "You save lives." He paused for effect.
"In a world that is _vastly_ overpopulated, one that will soon be _destroyed_ by the overabundance of people, you have the **audacity** to prevent people from dying."
Oh, shit. A true believer. And he was going to work himself up into a fervor. I might be in real trouble.
"Sir, I'd think you'd better have a look at this." Thank goodness the lackey interrupted him. Sometimes they won't.
Dr. Sinclair took the laminated card. "Sieger's Super Services?" he read.
"Yessir. We're an agency that provides services to superheroes." His brow furrows as he reads the card. "Or supervillains," I add. "I'm the Blue Bolt's relief double. I do most of his charity events, publicity work, signings..."
"So you're.... NOT... the Blue Bolt."
"That's right. No super speed."
"What's the good news?" The doctor looked like a little boy whose ice cream had just dropped to the ground.
"Twenty thousand dollars. Provided that you return me to society, unharmed, of course."
"Or, I could just use you as bait until the real Bolt shows up." The supercilious smile was back.
I took a moment to recall my training. "I'm afraid that won't work. I have a pre-negotiated no-rescue contract. Nobody will come for me." Dr. Sinclair appeared to be deep in thought, digesting this information. "If you call the number on the card, they'll arrange for dead drops so I can be returned, and you can collect the money without being followed."
The doctor suddenly lifted his head, squared his shoulders, and pulled out a pistol.
"Wait!" I shouted. He didn't wait.
I slumped to the ground, confused, watching my life's-blood seeping out of me. The doctor approached, and knelt just in front of me. I looked up into his eyes, and he read the question in mine.
"I just can't live in a world with _two_ Blue Bolts." He leaned down and whispered in my ear the last two words I would ever hear. _Population control._ | this is my first time posting here so all critiques are welcome, thanks!
First it was a few jokes here and there, but it got serious when I was eight. Walking down to the main square of my town, an old hag stopped my mother, my twin sister, and I on the cobble street. "You're the one the prophecy foretold--the Blue Queen of Delphinia!" Pulling me by my blue hair into her house, she dissuaded my mother from stopping her with a sweet smile as she unraveled a minuscule scroll that was sitting on her kitchen table.
"Behold!" she croaked. "The prophecy of the Blue Queen!"
As the hag launched into an epic poem about a young girl with the power to control water and wind, one who would save the world from the fiery evils that ruled our land, my sister and I exchanged glances at each other. I thought back to yesterday, in the hair salon, when she had complained to our mother that too many people were making fun of her for her long, blue locks at school. Hesitant but accepting, our mother told the stylist to bleach her hair and dye it a comfortable, normal blonde.
This glance from my sister confirmed the suspicions I'd been harboring for a while now: that my sister had magic in her blood. I'd seen her staring intently at the school water fountains, making animal shapes out of the little streams when no one was watching. Once, I walked in on her swirling all of her homework into a tornado in anger. We both knew that *she* was the Blue Queen of Delphinia. But her hair color change was the ultimate sign that she didn't want to be.
"So, Blue Queen," the old woman croaked, examining my pigtails carefully as if to check for their authenticity. "Show us your saving power."
Shuffling over to the sink, the hag turned on the faucet and looked intently at me. "Do what you must, my lady."
I eyed my sister nervously, trying to say that we could walk away from this without being taken seriously. Yet she gave a tiny shake of her head, and I stared at the water.
Within seconds, the flowing tap moved to create a word: *TOGETHER.* | 2019-06-19T10:55:29 | 2019-06-19T10:04:46 | 44 | 23 |
[WP] The nearby Village simply knows you as the hunter who lives in the forest, but you have a dark secret. You are the former dark Lord. Today you returned from a hunt and found the Hero that defeated you in your Hut. | I was pleased with my hunt today. A plump, young hog. Time hadn't been able to turn it tough, but it's size would keep me fed for a good month, whilst leaving a hefty amount to trade for other supplies. I had my stasis chest at my hut to keep it fresh, which made me happy.
I headed towards my hut, smiling. The carcass weighed my down a little, but I pushed on. I was eager to butcher it, and put my feet up for a bit. I had plenty of experience in butchering, saving me a fortune in costs. Having lost everything once, I was careful with the little I had.
My hut came into view. A simple structure, made of thick stone. It was made of three individual circles, connected by small passages. A tended garden out front grew a few vegetables, enough to keep me fed. A thick wooden post protruded from the ground, an equally thick beam sporting a hook branching off.
With a practiced heave, I lifted the hog up. I impaled its rear, letting it hang ready. I carefully slit its throat, letting the blood pooling in its body pour out. Its heart wasn't beating, but gravity did the trick just fine. I wiped my blade, sticking it in the sheath before heading inside.
As I stepped in, I froze. Someone was inside. They sat in front of my empty fireplace, in a simple wooden chair. They looked up as I entered, though their hood cast their face in shadow. I let go of the door, easing my hand to my knife.
"I thought your home would be more... impressive."
I knew that voice. I knew it very well. It once was backed with strength and power, filled with a thirst for justice. I breathed out and in, before replying, letting the motion quell my nerves.
"Satu. What an unpleasant surprise."
He pulled back his hood, grinning at me.
"I thought you would see right through it."
I didn't bother unsheathing my dagger. I was no slouch, but he was clearly stronger than me. My loss of the Thorned Throne had guaranteed that.
"I thought you would have been here sooner, when you found out I was alive."
He waved a dismissive hand, utterly at ease.
"Oh, I knew you were alive the day after our fight."
I was taken aback.
"How?"
"Well, I was suspicious after your 'death'. You had burned to nothing. There was no ash or anything. So I scryed you, and saw you running."
He leant back, lacing his hands behind his bald head.
"I thought about hunting you down, but then you didn't try and rebuild. You wandered for a year or so, before making a home here. I figured why bother you."
I let out a sigh. With a shrug, I removed my hunting cloak, hanging it on a hook.
"Why are you here then?"
I wandered over to a leather case on the side, unrolling it. Sharp knives glistened in the sunlight, waiting to be used.
"To pick your brains of all things."
My eyes glared into his as I spun. He was certainly still full of surprises.
"Why?"
His easy-going nature went hard. This was no longer just a man. This was a hero, in all his might.
"There are rumors of a new Dark Lord rising. Similar to you, building an army of demons and undead."
I knew what he was asking now.
"You want to know how he will start."
He nodded.
"Of course. I would rather nip this in the bud, than go through what you did again."
I gave a humourless smirk back.
"Yeah yeah. Fine, if it will get you out of my hair."
I picked up the bundle, heading towards the door.
"We can talk as I butcher."
He stood up, giving a nod of thanks. I just opened the door sighing heavily. He brought back memories I would rather forget. The sooner I got rid of him, the sooner I could go back to my quiet life | I arrive home after a day of hunting with a couple of deer in tow on my wagon. The door to my house is slightly ajar. Someone probably wants some more meat from my cellar. I'm happy to share and everyone knows it, so they come in and sit patiently at the table till I get back to ask. I walk into my house to find him sitting at the table.
"Oh come on!! I'm being good. Leave me alone."
"Uh huh, sure you are Jack."
I roll my eyes. "If you want to start something Carson, I'll follow you out to the forest, but please don't do anything here in the village."
"Really, Jack?! I'm the hero here. What makes you think I'm going to put innocent people in danger?"
"Well you did it once before! Walked right into my castle, slaughtered all my subordinates, and then kicked my butt too."
Carson nods slowly. "Yeah, but your subordinates were demons and you were planning on destroying all life on the planet. It isn't like I could leave them alive to start the process over again!"
I sigh and turn to the kitchen. "Can you give me a minute to handle my kills and get them prepared a bit, please?"
Carson nods and I grab my tools. As I walk out the door, I glance over my shoulder. "You are welcome to give me a hand if you want. It would make the work go faster."
Carson stands up, "Sure why not.", and he follows me out the door.
I grab the wagon and head to the back of the house. We each take one deer, string it up, clean it, gut it, butcher it, and prepare it for drying. We then take each skin and prepare it for tanning.
Not a word has been said the entire time and Carson now follows me back inside.
I motion for him to sit down. "Can I get you something to drink? I'm afraid I don't have much. I don't touch anything fermented these days."
"Some water or tea would be fine."
"Anything to eat?"
"Only if you are willing to share"
I get us both some water and make some sandwiches.
I set the food down at the table. "Ok, Carson, tell me why you are here." | 2021-11-03T13:09:00 | 2021-11-03T13:04:29 | 2,337 | 134 |
[WP] 1,000 years after the battle of Helm's Deep, the orcs have tracked down the elves in the undying lands. Calling in a favour with their allies the men, the elves expect an army of 10,000. Instead they get 8 marines with MASERs, rail guns and anti-matter grenade launchers. | "Sir, the humans front party has arrived!" A guardsmen told me as I walked towards the council chamber near the center of the city.
I continued walking "Escort the highest ranking people among them to the council chambers. They will want to talk to them"
"Sir!" The guardsmen spun on his heal and briskly left.
I quickened my pace towards the council chambers. It would not be good if the guard managed to beat me to them. Plus I wanted time with the council members to explain that the humans had somehow sent an entire army here in less than 2 weeks. I still wasnt sure how to go about that because it seemed neigh impossible...
I knocked politely on the door and waited to be admitted.
"Enter" came the soothing voice of one of the elders who ruled over the council.
I entered quickly, shutting the door silently behind me.
"Lords..." I started pausing briefly to bow to the council as a whole "the human's army has arrived 3 weeks before we had planned." I hated being this brief but the current elder in charge disliked the word play his position normally favored so much.
"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow as another knock rang through the chamber "Enter" he commanded as if he was bored.
9 people entered. The guardsmen and 8 humans from how they looked.
The guardsmen bowed before the council "Sir these are all the humans." He looked nervous saying those words.
"What do you mean all?" The elder asked shock in his voice. I was shocked too. 8 humans? We were expecting numerous casualties with an army of 10,000 least 8 humans.
"Sir I swea-" the guardsmen started.
"Theres only 8 of us Elder." Intoned a bald human, stepping forward.
The elder shifted his glance over "The humans promised an army with the strength of 10,000 men"
He replied slightly indignantly. He was really annoyed now.
"Right and here we are sir..." the human shrugged as if he wasn't affected in the slightest. "We are 8 of the best trained marines in the entire corps. We have the best weapons and the best stuff they would give us. This should be easy sir." He finished with a confident smile.
"Okay..." the elder said "I want to see these weapons then. Now." He glanced at the guardsmen "Lead us to an area where we can test their weapons."
The bald man looked panicked stricken for a second
"Sir! Might I suggest the city walls? Our weapons are very destructive and may affect the city if we dont test them on empty land"
The elder just waved his hand in approval as he and the others followed the guardsmen towards the city walls.
After a brief walk we arrived ontop of the wall looking at the desert. It hadn't been there even a week ago. This had been the first trick of the orcs that had made us call the humans for aid in the first place. They wiped out the trees and plant life as far as the eye could see and made it into a desert.
"Okay I'll only fire once. So please pay attention. All of these shots are very valuable." The bald man pulled out the weapons that we knew the humans had been developing but never bothered because they were unreliable. He rammed a ball into the top and tipped the cylindrical pipe backwards.
"I'm clear, you're clear, we're all clear..." He sang in an odd rhythm "boom" he puffed out his breath.
We all waited for a few seconds but nothing happened.
"Sir what's happ-!" I attempted to ask but all that we heard next was a giant explosion.
We all stumbled to the ground except for the man who had been firing. He simple when to his knee and crouched.
The noise subsided. I sat up from where I was lying prone. "Why didnt we hear any noise at first?" I asked as it was the only thing I could think of.
"Antimatter grenades dont make a sound when fired" he replied like he had said it a million times to someone else. "This is also the weakest weapon we have with us, just to let you know."
"What else do you have with you?" The elder squeaked quietly.
The bald man laughed at his expression "Some railguns, and then even more powerful is something we just call MASER"
"What do they do?" He asked digging for more information.
"Kill" was the only reply "can we get rooms now?" The bald man asked putting his weapons away.
"Right this was" the guardsmen said seeing the elders hand flip towards his direction telling him to lead them away.
They walked off leaving the council and myself staring at the damage. The tallest mountain in the range dividing us and the orcs had been obliterated. All that was left was a crater.
"I guess we had better strengthen our relationship with the humans after they win this war for us..." the elder said seeming to think out loud. No one else talked, just nodded their heads in agreement.
"Well at least we dont need to worry anymore..."
Edited: A word and punctuation. | So it began...
As Elgeois viewed the scene before him he witnessed his certain doom. 130,000 orcs stood poised to charge the last free eleven stronghold left. He was there in the beginning, the final battle of the last alliance, he had stood side to side with his wood elf kin in the last war of the ring as well; but this, this was a battle he knew they could not win. Less than 1000 elves capable of fighting remained, and their stocks of arrows had dwindled to but a few arrows an elf. They were out of options and almost out of hope.
He called for Thrandel his aide, “Thrandel Sound the horn of ‘Ermey’ let us hope the tales are true.” Thrandel races up the stairs of the tallest tower in the last fortress, there stood the grand horn of Ermey gifted to them by men, who said that in their hour of greatest news to blow it twice and all of hell would descend on their enemies. So Thrandel mounted the horn and blew twice, it let out a shrill twang of “ooooooollo-raaaahhhhhh!!!!!!”
At first nothing happened, and Elgeois grew disheartened, his final hope had faded, all that was left now was to die with honor. He slowly walked to the gate, in a funeral like procession in a trance of determination only a dead man could walk.
Then he heard it, a sound like a hurricane approaching. Thump thump thump thump thump thump, accompanied by a battle chant repeating in rhythmic beats “fortunate son”.
The war beast creating such a noise descended into the courtyard before him. A strange man dressed in no armor he had seen before approached. “Semper Fi Commander, Lt. Thad Harrdick here, General Mattis Senfs his regards. Where do you need us?” Elgeious was stunned. General Mattis? Semper fi? Who were these men!? “I... I... Need you to thin out the horde before us, we are doomed if they breach the gate.”
“No problem sir, we’ll handle it.” He grabbed a strange black box on his chest and spoke into it. “Alpha 2-8 this is Chaos 1-1 bring the rain over. And Alpha 2-3 and 2-4 Land on my location and secure the gate, I want Alpha 2-4 through 2-7 to man the walls and lay fire down ASAP. Get a TOW on those big ugly bastards too.” Turning to the commander he said, “Sir, my people got it from here, we beginning bombing in ETA two mikes, keep your heads down until the explosions stop then let loose with everything you got.” With that he ran back into his war beast and leapt off the ground in a whirl of dust and sound.
Sure enough a few moments latter new war beasts appeared on the horizon, streaks of fire rained down into the hordes of orcs below. Some of the beasts landed new men in green who carried strange weapons and spoke in gnarled tongues. They mounted their weapons on the battlements and ushered in a wave of death he had never before scene.
Indeed it had began...
Sorry for the formatting on my phone. This is my first story I hope it is enjoyable and understandable. Thanks for the prompt, I hope you don’t mind the liberties I took with changing it into marines and not just 8 of them. | 2018-12-03T05:47:51 | 2018-12-03T05:46:38 | 160 | 73 |
[WP] You are an elite member of the royal guard. You have recently been fired from your position because of the new king. Little does he know, there was a reason why the previous king kept you in his service for so long.
Edit: Holy crap this blew up! Thank you all! | A week ago I was an elite member of the royal guard, doing my duty as always. I was the leader of the four female guards in the defense troop. That was until the new king, Harrion the fourth, decided that his troops would be better off with new recruits and decided to fire all of us who served for more than a decade.
King Harrion the Third wrote in his testament that I, along with the other female guards were to remain if he were to pass, but his son thought otherwise and wrote us off against his late father's will. The four of us tried to reason with him, to reconsider, but he made up his mind, cursed us, and went on his way.
Boy was he wrong.
Fast forward to today, I am huddled inside a cramped house as storms rage overhead, lightning crackled outside my door, wind howling outside my window. A measly fire pit kept me and my soup warm. I heard three knocks on the front door, I dared not to make a sound, hoping it would go away. But they only became louder until I couldn't take it anymore.
I opened the door. In front of me was what looked like someone in their late-twenties, dressed up in chainmail. His face was as pale as night.
"Ms. Annelise?" The child boomed
"Aye?" I replied.
"King Harrion wants to have a word with you."
"Tell him I wouldn't give even a smidgen of a fuck."
"Please ma'am, this is important." He persisted. "The kingdom is at stake."
"The kingdom he banished me and my girls from? The kingdom he made us look like a laughing stock to? If that's what it is about, I would not like to continue this conversation any further." I said.
"Please reconsider! The king needs you at this moment!" He pleaded, "I've heard legends of the Great Cryllasti , surely they won't let us down."
'He tries to use my past against me' I thought.
"The rule was that we would continue to serve in return for respect. What did your pathetic king do? He cursed us, humiliated us, banished us. Is that respect?" I snapped.
I was the most patient one, I had to be, I fought against war.
"Tell your pathetic excuse for a king that he could 'kiss my ass' whatever that means. And also tell him that he was the only one brave enough to say anything like that in the past millenia." I declared. "Now go back to your king."
The boy had tears welling up in his eyes already devoid of hope. I may have a soft spot, but I don't tolerate with disrespect.
"B-but Ms. Minerva and Ms. Vermil–"
"The other Crystalli would say the same thing. We do not deal with your kind anymore."
He left without another word.
We've been protecting the land from the Horsemen Apocalypti for eons. War, Famine, Death, Conquest, all of them trembled beneath our knees. Now that the king said he no longer needed nor wanted our services, we'll leave them to their devices.
(this is my first story, I hope it's any good.) | When the king took his last breathe it felt like rain after a long drought. I was so close to my freedom. For 50yrs I was tied to that bastard, my wings clipped by youthful pride. I had loved him once and given my heart and magic to the king thinking he would love me too, he convinced me that even when he married his wife I would be his consort, his lover his right hand. I pledge my loyalty to him and this kingdom before he Betrayed me. I have killed, cursed and fought in very battle I've been sent. I have even shared his bed urgh. Yet they all think me the King's toy.
But the fool never took my grimore from me in the years I've lived I found a a way to break myself free; all I need now is the new king to expel me from the is kingdom. I have tormented the little kinglings dreams since he was lad, I've bullied him, chased away all his lovers and friends. His hatred of me is but a fraction of mine. I know he could never understand why his father kept around, the proud fool of a king would never tell a soul how used his body to trick me into slavery.
So I waited and planned my vengeance. And with the new Kings word, I was Banished from the empire and thus I am no longer condemned by my pledge.
Ha do not worry my dear old friend I shall make sure in your son's rein that the sun will Never set on the empire again | 2021-02-28T03:11:04 | 2021-02-28T02:58:19 | 310 | 68 |
[WP] Someone finally figures out what the posts on /r/A858DE45F56D9BC9 mean, and it's not good.
For those who don't know what /r/A858DE45F56D9BC9 is:
It's a subreddit full of coded messages that no one has ever been able to solve (some people make good effort, though - I mean, [somehow finding strings of music within a most-likely incorrect decoding result](https://www.reddit.com/r/A858DE45F56D9BC9/comments/3emca0/201507252204/ctgwfwf) is pretty good). The only approved poster is /u/A858DE45F56D9BC9, who only posts the coded messages seen on that subreddit and absolutely nothing else. | "Steph!" Alfred called out, his voice almost cracking in excitement, "Get over here! Steph!"
His voice, rising in volume, woke the young woman. Her eyes drowsy and unfocused open with a start. Suddenly she lifted her head from the pool of saliva that was collecting on the table where her face had just been.
"STEPH! We did it!" Screamed out the voice across the dark room. She could see him jumping up and down in the red light of the clock on the wall. It was blinking 4:24 AM causing a strange slow strobe light effect as her companion jumped for joy. The only other lights were the white blur of the screen on his desk and the slowly moving icon of her wallpaper background as it bounced from edge to edge of her monitor.
Her wits came back to her, "You cracked it?!" She coughed, wiping the drool from her chin, "You found out what it says? Tell me!" She urged, stumping over the cables around her desk as she made her way over to the man's desk.
"Look for yourself!" The smugness of his voice was lost on her excitement, finally she would find out the secret code.
She hunched over his desk, reading the scripts from the cryptographic conversion program they had run.
"Are you sure this is right?" She gapped, "These are commands for Russian sleeper agents... So its true, the Russians have been infiltrating our government." She was stunned by the news... It was a reality once, like 40 years ago, that sleeper agents were here trying to change policy, find our secrets, but now she had proof.
**BING** the sound of a new post.
Steph's fingers ran across the keyboard, like spider legs chasing their prey.
"Alfred, I'm translating the post now!" He rushed behind her as she booted the program and ran the hexadecimal code.
She sat in silence as the progress bar grew moving closer to 100%.
The only sound in the room was the whiring of the fans as the two held their breath.
The output on the screen popped up:
*Murder suicide, 4:36, thank you for your service.*
Steph turned puzzled looking at her companion, and looked at the clock, it was 4:35.
-------
The next morning there was no news in the paper about the 2 deaths at the Milwaukee NSA branch. The agents there had died under suspicious circumstances, apparently a murder suicide, but the word never got out. Two more agents had been assigned to r/A858DE45F56D9BC9 but there was never a new post on the site. | After months of sleepless nights followed by long and grueling days of coding and deciphering, Sam was finally just moments away from the answer. A858DE45F56D9BC9 had been a mystery for almost 3 years, and no one had ever been able to decode it, until now. All Sam had to do was run one last test to verify that his code was correct, and he would have solved the mystery. After staring at the screen feeling either fear or excitement or more likely, a combination of both, Sam hit enter. In the middle of the screen, a text box opened. After reading the text 7 times, Sam filled the bathtub full of water, grabbed a toaster from the kitchen, and then electrocuted himself. In his office, the cursor blinked tauntingly at the empty room. In front of the cursor, a simple sentence: “I’ll tell you what this all means if you’ll just give me tree fiddy.” | 2015-07-27T11:07:20 | 2015-07-27T11:00:19 | 48 | 25 |
[WP] Over six billion orbs descend on earth, one for each man, woman and child. The orbs do nothing but silently hover near each person, until one day.... | Over six billion orbs descended upon Earth from the skies, one for each man, woman and child. Except Travis. He built his own replica so as not to raise eyebrows.
Despite the initial uproar, the orbs did nothing but silently hover over the person. Over time, some began praying to their orb while others began decorating theirs. A few claimed that it saved their lives by getting their attention in the moments before a to-be accident.
When a person died, his or her orb shattered. Conversely, when the orb was destroyed, so did its corresponding human. Perhaps self-preservation was in the orb's interest, but that meant observation, personality and sentience.
Travis' orb did none of those things. It fell to the ground and became a thousand pieces when it ran out of battery once. The low battery status had not been highlighted, thanks to a glitch.
And he had had to make changes when they occurred in others' orbs. Clear glass became frosted, and then solid and dull. People wrongly associated it with the clarity of one's heart until the solid globe became the norm.
Little bumps and scratches carved themselves onto the surface of the orbs, even if the owners swore that they'd never dropped or scratched it.
When finally the first green grew on his colleague's orb, Travis gave his mimicry up. These were worlds, he realised. He could never build a world that matched the orb.
And that meant that whoever it was who intended the orb for them thought them worthy of being gods. Every single human, except for him and no one else.
He told himself to shrug it off, but what he actually did was embark on an investigation to trace the source of the orbs and to identify the greatest world. Or perhaps, they were parallel worlds.
There were children's orbs that were a wonder to behold. They were intricately detailed and burgeoning with what seemed to be tiny lifeforms.
There were monks and sages whom he interviewed. They had tonnes of great questions but no answers for Travis.
It took him twenty years to find the first real clue, another ten to accept the truth that had been staring at him since day one.
Earth had not existed before the day that the orbs had descended. All prior memory had been implanted and everyone's recollection was consistent but single dimensional.
Like everyone else, when Travis finally died in another twenty-four years' time, his Earth shattered.
---
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*Edit: grammar, expression* | The orbs began pressing into their hosts. There was no pain, no feeling of intrusion just a warm glow and then they were gone. It didn't take people here very long to enter a state of panic. Very quickly the doctors realised that each and every host was a vessel, a pregnant host for an as yet unknown species. Surgery was useless. Any attempt to remove the creatures killed their host counterparts. I wish I could tell you more but as I lay here in agony l fear there is no time. In mere moments I will be in too much pain to write. I can only tell you that my friend and colleague laying in the room next door has, protruding from his chest, 6 Long Green crustacean like legs and from here all I can hear is the constant sound of clicking. Janet if you are reading this please know that I love you and if you trust me at all, do not go into the room next door, Stephen. | 2017-02-15T15:48:09 | 2017-02-15T15:35:21 | 92 | 15 |
[WP] You are a multi-billionaire with a lovely wife, who is trying to kill you to inherit your fortune. You love her so much that you just don't have the heart to tell her you are immortal. | At first, it was adorable, the way Marianne attempted her uxoricide. I admired her attempts and her acting skills. The poison in the drink was a classic attempt. Poison is, after all, a woman's weapon. She didn't even grit her teeth or bat her eye when I woke up the next morning to slip out for my run. I returned to find her making blueberry waffles, my favorite, and grinned brightly.
"Stop! Dina, you're all sweaty," she laughed when I leaned in for a kiss. Her hand on my chest was as warm as always and despite the murder-attempt the night before, I still loved her.
"Waffles will be ready in ten," she called after me as I ran up the stairs to shower and change for the day.
The waffles, or mine at least, had hemlock in them. I had a close call with hemlock, back in the fourteenth century, so I'm well aware of the almost-but-not-quite-parsnip taste of the plant. I ate my waffles with gusto, grinning gleefully at the jokes Marianne had in response to the morning news. It was a well-worn tradition, us eating breakfast while watching the news.
I almost felt bad that Marianne's plan wasn't going well. She'd never succeed, even if she took an ax to my neck.
The second poisoning had me worried though, I hoped she didn't attempt to make sure poison worked on someone *else* before trying it again for me. I had quite the body count over the centuries, but in the last two, I really had become the pacifist that my political campaigns claimed. And really, in this day and age with the internet and forensics, it would be *very* difficult for me to attempt to cover up her crime should she be caught.
Leaving the house, I was undecided what to do about Marianne's attempts. It was clear she wanted me gone, but why? Was it just about the money? We'd been married for nearly fifteen years. She knew I'd give her anything she asked for.
When I returned home from work, to find Marianne in the garden, I sat down next to her, helping to pick the ripened tomatoes.
She acted completely normal. Somehow, I loved her more for that. I wished I could make her as immortal as I was, but the witch who had done it for me was long-gone and the tradition lost to time. There were only seven of us, and every forty years or so, we had to go about remaking our lives. Disappearing from public life for a while before popping back up in a couple of generations. It was my turn to be in the public eye, and with the way, things were going, I had decided to run for the most powerful office in the world. And I was winning.
Which only created another problem, I couldn't die. What would Marianne do to increase her efforts? Or would she give up entirely? We did have a long discussion before I began my campaign about what it would mean for her if I won, she had seemed completely on board, but perhaps she was like our current leaders' wife and disdained the life of being First Lady so much that she'd rather kill me then be forced into the fishbowl.
The following morning, I woke up to Marianne straddling me, before I realized there was a giant butcher knife sticking out of my chest, I had thought I was about to get laid.
"Morning," I muttered, my hands drifting over her hips.
"What the fuck are you?" she whispered. I opened my eyes properly to see her horrified gaze as she watched the butcher knife slowly recede from my skin and my skin to begin knitting itself back together. | I've survived five attempts thus far. Five cold-hearted murder attempts by my darling wife, the light of my life, the smile on guile, hiding the knife.
At first, I even avoided them, because... well, on principle, I suppose? Seems odd to just LET someone try to murder you, you know? But as much as I'm fascinated by her dedication to this attempt at being the sole proprietor of my vast fortune, it's started getting a bit old. I don't even see why, she already has near limitless control over our funds. Why does it matter that it's mine on paper, if she's free to spend it any way she wants?
Still, I can't divorce her, or worse. I love her too much. And so, I came up with a plan. A brilliant, if perhaps a little wicked, plan. I would let her murder me... or at least succeed in whatever her attempt was. I just had to make sure that she attempted it in such a way that there could be no doubt as to my immortality when she discovered it didn't work. Perhaps then she'd realise the futility of it all, and go back to just being my wonderful, funny, charming, beautiful wife.
I think she got tired of the subtle things as well... the poison, the live wire, the "accidental" fire. It was time for something more overt.
As she came at me with the machete, she even told me. Taunted me with the fact that she would claim a killer got into the house, trashed it, injured her (she even cut herself a few times, shallowly mind, to cement the story), and cut me down.
Me, I just sighed, then spread my arms wide, smiled, and invited her in. She obliged. For someone who doubtlessly was lacking proficiency as a murderer, she wielded the machete with admirable skill.
It wasn't until the wickedly sharp edge bit into my neck that I realised I'd miscalculated. Or, perhaps, at least not read the dictionary enough. Turns out immortality and invulnerability are not the same thing.
...
Shit. | 2019-07-31T08:37:49 | 2019-07-31T08:08:28 | 97 | 45 |
[WP] You notice a pattern, anytime your child is recorded they inevitably look directly at the camera and say one word seemingly random word. You begin to listen to the videos from first to last, as you finish the last one your child walks in and makes eye contact. "today." | **My(37M) wife(34F) has been looking through videos and has found that our son (7) only speaks one word in each video. The words in order of the videos seem to make a sentence. She thinks our son is trying to tell us something. Like a warning. Help!**
My wife has been all over this Facebook thing. Recently she has be insistent that we delete all of our data on Facebook and transfer it to a Zip drive via email. She has been going through the videos and pictures doing a delete and keep. She has finished up all of the pics and has moved on to the videos. The thing is our son’s videos seem to be different than the rest and only for the past few months. For instance up until about two months ago he would talk like every other kid his age now he only speaks one word while looking at the camera. Then he runs away or he starts playing again.
My wife being the best woman in the world has gone through them and seems to be going crazy. She thinks he is trying to tell us something. She has decided to write down every word from every video he is in when the one word videos started.
So far she has the words: *mom, and, dad, you, need, to, listen, to, me, we, are, all, in, grave, danger, they, are, coming, for, us, they, are, coming*
My wife thinks honestly that he is telling us or warning us of something. I don’t know what to believe. Is he a warning us or have we just caught him mid sentence or we didn’t catch the entire conversation.
The part about my wife that is also troubling is, she has taken this to heart. She actually thinks he is warning us and has began to be a little paranoid. She has spent countless hours and days looking at the videos and rewatching them. She has been on detective mode. It is putting a strain on our relationship. When it could be something else. It’s getting pretty bad.
So fellow redditors what do I do? Do I take this as a ominous warning or do I get my wife help? I think my wife is going crazy.
TL;DR: wife has been going through videos from Facebook and has found videos of our son saying just one word. She has put the words in order and it seems to come out as a sentence. It’s straining our marriage. Is my wife going crazy.
Edit: thanks for all the comments. I am going to talk to her and get her away from the videos. Maybe a nice date and take the kids to the park.
Edit 2: Date went nice. I was able to convince her to stop with the videos and that it could really be anything.
Edit 3: while at the park we were videoing the kids our son came up and said *today* to the camera and ran way. What does that even mean? Now my wife is freaking out and pulled out the list of words from her purse. She has given me the new sentence. She is crying.
New sentence: *mom, and, dad, you, need, to, listen, to, me, we, are, all, in, grave, danger, they, are, coming, for, us, they, are, coming, today*
What am I going to do? She thinks this means people are coming for us today.
Edit 4: several men have pulled up to the house in white vans.
I’ll keep you updated if anything happens. | It really started to freak me out when little Ella started the habit, at first, I told myself it was just the odd babbling of a baby. That was until I recorded her walking and caught several of the words in separate videos.
I strung them together to get, “on black wings.”
I sit here now trying to string them together, frustrated I hit my kitchen table. It is obviously a message but I must have erased some of the videos there are pieces missing.
“April 2018, Will begin the, No will be left, come on black wings.”
I heard the little pitter patter of tiny feet and look toward the door. Ella in it standing there staring at me. After what I had just watched I half expected her eyes to roll back into her head.
“Today, now,” the words broke our silent staring contest.
She ran off giggling not giving me a second look. Thunder sounded, shaking me and the windows. The kitchen darkened as a cloud moved across the sun. I realized it must be getting ready to storm as the room continued to darken. I got up to walk kitchen screen door that leads out to the backyard. It swung open small spring squeaking as it strained to pull the door closed.
I looked toward the sun. I couldn’t believe my eyes, a large structure shaded us from the sun. I glanced around to see other like structures had erupted from the ground. The buzzing started then, black dots began to fall from the top of the massive towers. As more flew out the buzzing increased. The sky was soon covered in a black shadow of these flying things.
I ran back inside, finding Ella, “What is happening?”
She gave me smile and a blank stare.
I softly shook her, “Ella, do you know what is happening?”
Again, just the stare. I got up and went to the window to look back up at the sky. The black things were descending on the neighborhood
“It’s ok momma, they are here to save us.”
| 2018-04-15T09:50:27 | 2018-04-15T08:15:07 | 1,181 | 104 |
[WP] You're the most powerful villian in the world. Formerly. Now you run a bar, that works as a neutral zone for heros and Villians alike. One day, a hotshot hero tries to arrest you. | ‘You don’t want to do this, kid.’ I leaned over and gently whispered, trying to avoid what was to come.
Bright-eyed, full of confidence, pepped up by the same propaganda that had sent hundreds like him to a similar fate, I’d seen his type come and go so many times before.
‘Ha! I eat heroes like you for breakfast’. Mike, one of my regulars, laughed at the kid. He’d had a few too many, little drops of beer fell from his beard as he sprayed droplets towards us. But he kept to the rules.
The kid ignored Mike. He barely flinched. But he did.
‘In the name of the king and lord of the land I arrest you for high treason’ he announced.
These heroes thought they knew right from wrong and had all the authority to do what they want. One short little burst of ‘classes’ from the heroes’ guild and they thought it was all a game. But he was still just a kid. I didn’t want to do it but it was now down to him.
‘Kid, this is a neutral zone. You can’t do this here’ I tried.
‘Honour and duty know no bounds’. It was one of the guild’s mottos. Not the best, but you could see the kid’s chest swell with pride as he recited it.
I sighed.
‘Very well, why don’t you arrest me in the back. We’ll go out that way. We don’t want to start a brawl, right? For an old man’s sake, let’s not make this too public.’
The kid lowered his sword ever so slightly as he followed me, never more than two feet away. I noticed the little tremble in his hand as I pushed the door to the back room.
‘Are you sure you wanna do this?’ I tried one last time. The kid let his nerves show a bit more. His voice wasn’t quite so confident, but he managed to get it out. ‘You cannot escape justice’ he parroted.
‘Very well...’
I turned the lights off as a courtesy. No one should see it coming. No one should see the horror I had become.
His body was now slumped on the floor. His heroes’ pin the only thing left shining on him. ‘Such a waste’ I said under my breath. And hoisted his lifeless corpse onto the counter, ready for processing.
I cleaned myself up, put on a new apron, and came back out to the bar. There was an uneasy moment as the few who had been there long enough looked over and were silent for a minute, taking in what they knew had happened.
Gradually, one by one, they returned to their conversations though.
‘What can I get you?’ I asked a customer. A mid-sized orc, seemed to be from the western plain. ‘How fast will your Hero Burger be back in stock?’ He asked.
‘Tomorrow morning’ I replied. | ”Heros and villains will accidentally destroy most businesses. Mine is a bit different than most, it is protected by the most powerful villain of all time. No villain tries to steal from my register and most heroes don't preach their justice above all to me or my employees. Everyone and then they try to fight each other, but that gets shut down very quickly every time. Only new heroes and villains try anything and only those who found it on their own. Like one called Afgod who saw a warrant for arrest and me in the same hour. He started saying a lot of stuff about how the law will always find you and justice will be served today. He even called on all of the other heroes in there at the time for back up, thankfully they were regulars and tried to warn him to not do anything stupid, as a typical hero who hasn't had their moment of humility yet he ignored them and called them cowards. I also tried to get him to calm down and even told him about the community service projects and my deal with the courts. He didn't listen to me and I showed him why no one wanted to fight me.”
”Alright Larry, thanks for the incident report, we will have to update our databases to reflect the current ruling. You can go now.”
”Your welcome officer, if you ever drop by your first drink is on the house.” | 2020-10-09T21:44:58 | 2020-10-09T17:02:50 | 656 | 103 |
[WP] The death penalty for murder no longer exists, instead technology has been developed that overwrites the mind of the killer with that of their victim. | ”Mr. Larsen? Can you hear me? Mr. Larsen?” The voice sounded and distant.
His eyelids felt heavy and when he finally managed to open his eyes everything was blurry. A shape was moving in front of him but he couldn’t make out what it was. Gradually the fog wrapped around his world was lifted but he still couldn’t realize it was a hand floating in front of him. One part of him knew what it was, the other did not. It was like the signals reached his brain but then they disappeared.
It took one month before he was able to speak properly again. At first he was frightened by how he sounded but the psychologist ensured him that would pass. He was in an adjustment phase, learning to accept his new body, but also what happened to his own body. No one told him exactly what happened but he remembered fragments of the incident. A dark alley. A man coming towards him, a raised gun but then everything was black. Later he remembered a flash in the dark. He didn’t know if he actually remembered the gunshot or if his mind had reconstructed it afterwards. Making up a new memory to make sense of the situation.
The mind replacement therapy was an ongoing experiment but had been successfully used for almost five years. Many parameters needed to match for a high chance of success. In the beginning, when the knowledge about the recovery process was limited there had been reports of mind rejections. The mind couldn’t cope with the new body and rejected itself leading to a brain death. After that, the recovery process had been redesigned. Gradually the victim was introduced to new parts of the new body.
When he first saw his new hands he noticed they were hairier than before and his former rather long fingers were now short and stubby. The arms were stronger and so were the legs. To try his muscular functionality and coordination the doctors had encouraged him to exercise and he found out that he could do five times as many pushups as before. He could run for almost an hour before he had to stop. It was an overwhelming feeling. He touched his face to get a feeling how he looked like but couldn’t make anything out. He had strict orders not to look in a mirror since that could cause severe trauma unless he had been prepared for a long while.
Two weeks later he had learned to use his new body. The physical therapy had been replaced with sessions with a psychologist preparing him for the important step of seeing himself for the first time in his new body. He was anxious to get out in the world again. He didn’t admit it to anyone else, but he actually liked his new body more than his old one.
The day finally came. His psychologist brought a mirror to the session and said:
“Walter. When you look in the mirror you will see the one who murdered you in an alley. But don’t worry. You are safe here.”
He looked into the mirror. “Who am I?” He asked and took a long look at his face. “I’ve never seen this person before.”
“You’re Walter Larsen, but in the body of your murderer.”
“No. This is not the man who killed me” | "If only you were beautiful," Mark said, touching the edge of my dress. He would not take it off. My skin was burned badly on the left side, where the fire loved me for too long. I had been pretty once upon a time, before my skin had become ash.
I did not need to look into the mirror to know my melted smile was terrifying. I missed my face, with the round, blue eyes, cat-like. I missed the full lips and the dimples that appeared when I was amused. Still, at 25, the doctors said I was *lucky to be alive.* But happy? No. Not when Mark flinched away from me, the monster with his girlfriend's eyes.
----
I woke with a start, my hands jerking up to touch my face the moment my soul aligned with the new nervous system. I looked in the mirror and saw the familiar face. While the hair would need to be regrown and the eyes were a bit too bright, it was the same *face* I saw in my dreams. Mark stood at the window, his new body glowing under the bright lights.
I burst into tears.
"I am so sorry, this must hurt you so much to be in her body," the doctor said.
"Yes," I said, trying to play the part.
I was myself again. I was better. I was new.
No one would ever know my sister hadn't truly tried to kill me. | 2014-07-27T08:29:19 | 2014-07-27T07:41:11 | 157 | 17 |
[WP] Mages choose the source of their power. Most pick things like fire, or justice, or love. You picked sarcasm. | "No, stop, don't shoot." His voice came out in a long drawl instead of the pleading yelps everyone else in the bank had used. "It's not like I'm a wizard. Magic totally can't stop bullets cause they're just too cool."
"Shut the fuck up!" The young, ski-masked man stomped towards the self-proclaimed wizard and held the gun directly against his forehead.
"Ow, Dick," the wizard responded as the hot metal of the recently fired weapon was pressed between his eyes.
"I said shut up!" He swung the gun upwards to take more of his frustrations out on the ceiling. From this close the robber could see that the white tag on the newcomer's shirt was a 'Hello My Name Is' sticker with the name 'Harry Fuckin Potter' written across it. Dust fell around them like snow.
'Harry' covered his ears as the shaking man squeezed the trigger two, three, four more times. "I'm sorry, I lost count a minute ago. How many bullets do you have left?"
The dark ski mask was unable to hide the young man's face turning solid white. He brought the gun to bear on the wizard again and did his best to steady his violently shaking arm. "Sit the fuck down." His voice shook with his arm making the wizard almost pity him.
"Hey kid," the wizard began, trying to placate the boy. "How old are you?"
Obviously caught off-guard by the personal question the bank robber stuttered. "Uh...ni-nineteen?"
"Are you asking me," Harry responded, "or telling me?"
Silence from the boy.
*Jesus,* thought the wizard. *I can't send this kid to jail.*
"Cool, nineteen then. You ever travelled? Seen anywhere cool in the world? Or is that what the money is for?"
More silence from the kid. Harry focused on the energy building in his hands from his earlier wit and realized he would need more if he wanted his plan to work.
"You know, I bet you could get away with it." The young man stepped back slightly and looked outside the front door where a plethora of police cars waited. "Eh, don't mind them they aren't as cool as you are. Sure, they've got guns but you do too and that's super empowering, isn't it? Nah, you could stroll out of here just fine. You could take that money and you'd be the king of the town. They can't track you down, you got that covered with the mask. It's so easy."
The kid's gun hand dropped slightly and Harry began to worry that he wouldn't get to do his trick. He forced a little bit of the energy towards the kid. One of the best things about magic, was that it was magic. Harry could do pretty much anything he wanted and what he wanted right now was to read the kids mind.
"So...Trevor, you're nineteen?"
What color that was left behind the mask quickly disappeared. "How the fuck--"
"What? I was right?" Harry held his hands up high and whooped loudly. "That trick never works. Oh man I'm on a roll today. Quick, hold up some fingers behind your back and ask me how many there are."
Trevor steadied the gun. "You're fucking crazy."
"Nah, I'm just too cool for you young kids to understand." Harry was genuinely worried he might get shot at this point so it was time to change the situation. "Oh, I know how you could get out of here. Take me as hostage!" Harry helpfully held his hands out as if waiting for handcuffs.
Even though the ski mask was black, dark spots formed along the kids brow. Getting held by a sweaty man was not in Harry's top list of favorite things to do, but he needed full contact with the kid.
"Look," Harry continued, "it's simple. They wont' shoot if you use me as a shield. We'll just pop down to subway and then you're home free."
Ding! Enough power.
"Yeah?" Trevor had meant to ask this question, now completely unsure of everything he was doing. Planning the bank robbery he had accounted for unruly tellers and screaming customers, but not a crazy guy who thought he was an actual wizard.
"Yeah," Harry assured him. "Just wrap your arm around me, keep that gun nice and tight to my head, and we'll just walk out the door! Piece of pie."
Trevor, already confused, latched on to the only sentence he understood. "Cake?"
"No; piece of pie. Pie is better." Harry turned his back to the young man. "Now lets go, I got Househunters starting in twenty minutes and I'm just dying to see the new episode."
The bank robber approached the wizard and latched on. Together they awkwardly shuffled to the door, Harry making jetpack noises with his mouth. Trevor, still terrified, followed his human shield out of the bank and into the waiting lights of the police cars.
"Don't do it," one of the cops screamed.
The response came not from the bank robber with the gun, but from Harry. "Too late!"
With a small pop, Trevor disappeared. Where once a scared young man had clung like a backpack against Harry there was now nothing but the smell of burnt hair.
"Goddammit, Michael," the same cop yelled as she holstered her weapon. "Where did you send this one?" | They say that you don't pick your familiar, your familiar picks you.
They say a lot of really stupid things.
"Surrender, James. You cannot hope to escape." I mean, who the fuck picks ***water*** as their familiar, right? Go-with-the-flow, steady, impassive, boring as all fuck. "My brother and I have you, you cannot escape two Masters."
I mean, listen to that little shit. *No* emotion in his voice, perfect monotone. Unbelievable. I sidestepped his shackling and countered with a spell of my own creation - it zipped around haphazardly in no particular pattern, a firework of perfect entropy, seeking chaos.
Of course he dodged it, he *was* a **Master** after all, the jackass. Heh, jackass. His name was Jack. Score one for me.
"Jack, Jack, the impassive sack. Steady and straight and quite the quack!!" His face grew bright red, *finally* a fucking reaction, Jesus Christ. That was almost more effort than it was worth!
Almost.
"James. *HEY MORON!* You can't win, dude." Ah, yes. The brother. Jordan. Fire to his brother's water. I *know* you can sense the eyeroll here. They probably huddled together on Dedication Day, said some quip about being part of the other half's whole, and as long as water and fire worked together, they could accomplish *anything!*
I'd put money on it.
"Jordan, the hot-headed...uh...accordion?" I scratched my head, cleanly deflecting his signature flame pillar with my own chaotic shield. "Yeah, I got nothing dude. Your name is stupid." *Jordan* was extremely easy - and satisfying as *fuck* - to get a reaction from. Fire - passionate, burning, fickle, full of energy. The problem was by antagonizing him I was only making him stronger.
More fun, I guess.
Jack sighed, deep and long. Dramatic much? "Fine. If you won't come quietly..." I mean, I could tell he was going for this epic, dramatic pause. Especially when he looked at his brother and nodded. Like they were saying:
"You ready big bro?"
"I'm ready little bro!"
"Alright, here it comes. We *did* warn him!"
"That we did, little bro!"
"I love you big bro!"
"I love you too, little bro."
All with one pathetic, *nauseating* look passed between them. I just rolled my eyes as they readied their combination attack.
That's enough.
Director's voice - no one knew his real name - rang through the PA system in our sparring ground. I felt the atmosphere *shift*, and my mind swam as my emotions righted themselves.
I slapped Jordan on the back. "Man, you were *really* gonna come at me? You two are fucking *MASTERS* man, how the fuck was I supposed to deflect that?"
He only rolled his eyes. "Because you are *literally* unbearable when Director takes down your emotional walls. Holy shit."
I smiled. "Figuratively."
"What?"
"Not literally. Makes no sense, friend." He punched me on the arm as we walked back to the mess hall, all three of us laughing about how ridiculous I had been acting. It was a mental state I'd have to get used to. Drawing power from sarcasm was...intoxicating. But certainly dangerous. Too sure of myself, it's something I'd have to work on.
Yeah, right. | 2017-07-20T12:00:00 | 2017-07-20T11:01:04 | 118 | 70 |
[WP] Taxes become optional, however, those who don't pay are not protected under the law. | “You still pay taxes?”
Jeff barely held back a laugh.
“Well, sure,” said Dave. “It's only sensible. Otherwise, what would happen if I were the victim of a crime? No justice? I can't accept that.”
Dave paused for a moment.
“So, you don't pay taxes?”
Jeff tapped the coffee stirrer on the lip of his mug.
“Only suckers pay taxes, Dave.”
“How can you say that? Don't you worry about your family?”
“Of course, I do. I worried about them before, too. And the worry wasn't any less then. Say you get murdered, right?”
“You know I don't go in for gruesome hypotheticals.”
“Bear with me. You get murdered. Your family is heartbroken. They fear they will never see justice served.”
“Rightly so.”
“But the killer is still out there. If the police are going to protect all the loyal taxpayers, they can't ignore that. They have to try to find your killer before he strikes again. And if they succeed, your family sees justice served. Not in your name, but none the less. And if not, well... Tragedies like that occurred before the Opt-Out, too.”
“You're saying you get full protection without paying taxes?”
“I'm saying there never was protection, even when I paid taxes. Do you know how few crimes the police actually prevent or stop in progress? Next to zero. Mathematically insignificant. They just work cleanup. And, even then, their success rate is abysmal.”
“But you say they still have to go after criminals regardless of the victim. Except now they have less funding. How does that even work?”
“My theory?”
Jeff paused to take a sip.
“Turns out people get along pretty well on their own when you stop ruining their lives and taking their money for ridiculous things like jaywalking, speeding, selling raw milk, and ingesting, or even possessing, certain plants or chemicals.”
“What, so the police are just going to stop enforcing laws altogether?”
“I'm saying they already have. They just haven't told you, yet.”
Jeff stood up put on his jacket.
“Only suckers pay taxes, Dave.” | I sold a brick, a man threw a brick. It was thick, no bull, cracked my skull. Please, police, police this matter. My life could be taken, and although you smell like bacon I'm shakin' in the floor with brain damage looking at the door way; I was slain, landed in floor, I see gray. Now it's black and I relax forever, because did I pay taxes? Never. | 2015-02-20T09:18:11 | 2015-02-20T08:49:07 | 289 | 22 |
[WP] A strange meteor shower lasted for hours before you went to bed. The next day, technology across the earth fails. However, when you snap your fingers in frustration, the lights come on. The Age of Magic has begun. | My grandmother always told me stories about the age of magic. She claimed it had happened once and it would happen again—it was only a matter of time.
I’d nod along and roll my eyes. *Sure, Grandma.*
When she passed, I wished I’d listened more. I hadn’t appreciated those slow moments in front of the fireplace in her living room. She must’ve been trying to tell me something, even if it wasn’t magic, it was still a type of tradition passed down. I’d heard of stories where the ‘magic’ was an escapist fantasy for women, who were so often disenfranchised. The appeal (and fear) of the witch, my English teacher once told me, wasn’t necessarily about the magic. It was a deeper fear of women with power.
Still, I could remember the way my grandmother’s eyes creased softly when she spoke. I remember her shoulders—so stooped in those last years—and her love of oversized costume jewellery. She had a flair for anything dramatic.
I missed her. A lot.
When the meteors streaked past my window that night, I thought about how much she would love it. She’d spin a story about how it was an otherworld omen. From there, she would’ve branched into other stories about the sky; stories about meteors and eclipses and the moon. I went to bed that night thinking of the soft Irish lilt in her voice.
I woke up the next morning to sun streaking into my apartment. *Shit*. I was late for work.
I grabbed for my phone, but the screen wouldn’t flick on. Had there been a power outage? I couldn’t even check the time—the small analog clock on the far wall of my bedroom read 3:13 a.m. and the second hand stayed planted just before the six.
I rummaged through my dresser and pulled my dark dress pants and the nearest blouse I could find into the bathroom—only to find the light wouldn’t turn on either. I flicked the switch up-down, up-down, and hoped that one flick would suddenly and miraculously work.
No such luck. I brushed my hair out of my face and pressed my hands to the side of my head. A gnawing and dull ached started to blossom around my temples. At least if the power was out throughout the whole city, my boss would understand if I was late. Maybe. Carla was a bitch who’d do anything to make herself look better, even at the expense of others.
*Come on.* I stared at the bulbs encased under the dome shade. *Turn on!*
The lights popped on. The brightness pressed against the backs of my retinas—I squished my eyes shut to adjust to the sudden wave of light.
When I cracked my eyes open again, it wasn’t any better. In fact, the lights seemed to shine brighter and brighter with each passing moment. I wondered if it was possible for them to be *too* bright.
A second later, I got my answer.
The room flared to shattering brightness. The blubs—all three of them in the shade—exploded in a clatter. Stray bits of glass and sparks rained to the tile floor.
I stumbled back and tried to keep myself safe. A small but razor-sharp fragment of bulb dug into the sole of my left foot. *Fuck* A bolt of pain fired through my nerves, sharp and hot. When I stepped back into the light of my bedroom, I saw the red flecks spot the white carpet.
I sat on the edge of my bed and pulled a tissue from the rainbow box on my nightstand. I wasn’t a great hand when it came to first-aid, I couldn’t tell if this cut would need stitches. Could they even put stitches on the bottom of a foot? I pressed the tissue into the cut and hoped it would staunch the bleeding. Even better, I wished the cut would just go away altogether.
I watched my skin stitch itself back together. The edges of the cut pressed together and ran up the small length. The skin looked unbroken; there wasn’t even a hint of a scab or a faint line of a scar.
I dropped the bloody tissue and sat, in silence, with my heart hammering through my body. What the hell had just happened?
I thought of my grandmother and her stories. She had always promised the age of magic would, one day, begin again.
---
/r/liswrites | The "thing", at least that's what I've been calling them, exploded wetly and I mentally let go of its image in my mind. One of its wings spun to the ground and a particularly large chunk of meat landed in front of me spraying my jacket...and face...with gore.
"Ugh. Oh come on, seriously?", I said wiping my face with my hands.
I turned away looking for Allison and April. They were a good fifty feet away punching their way through the last of the "things".
"Hurry up!", I yelled to them as I threw my jacket away and sat on the curb.
A few minutes later Allison walks over and sits down on the asphalt across from me.
"How many did we save?", she asked in her typical no nonsense tone.
"Zero", I sigh and look at her feeling my weary body search for tears but then remembering a year of this has seemingly dried them up.
"At least 50 men, women, and children torn to shreds. But hey at least it was quick."
Her face shifts slightly and her body language changes subtly. She stands up, sits next to me and kisses my temple...I guess there's no goop there.
"Sweetie we can only do what we can, how could we have been here any sooner?", she says, her head on my shoulder.
Unlike her twin sister Allison, April is the one with the heart and compassion. They tell me they were nearly suicidal after the meteor shower when they woke up as one person fighting for control. I can't imagine what it must be like to negotiate time using your own body balancing time riding nearly helpless. Of course they can split up for a time but something about the energy they have to expend while separate means they only do it when they're not worried about causing serious damage.
"What's the point of all of this? Why are we even searching anymore? These 'things' are popping up more often then ever, and we can't save the people who won't live in the city. If they really think they can survive on their own let's just leave them to it and spend this time shoring up our defenses."
The grass behind me turns into razors and the concrete around us humps up into battlements.
I unclench my fists and clear my mind, as usual I chide myself on getting so worked up.
"This is our fucking lot in life now, how many times do we....", Allison growls.
April kisses me, "Think of the people we can save, not every one made the choice to stay out here"
I wrap my arms around her, "You're both right, you always are. Ready?"
"Yup", she says in that weird double voice she sometimes has.
I think about our little house in the barracks behind the giant walls of New York.
I snap my fingers. | 2019-10-20T10:12:29 | 2019-10-20T10:09:59 | 58 | 10 |
[WP] The eldritch god stood before the girl, in almost human form. "Your parents sold you to be my bride. I accepted, knowing that if I don't they will just try another deity, but I will not force this on you. Have this credit card and live as you wish. If you want something else instead, just ask." | The man, or what could potentially be considered a man, stood stiffly in front of the girl, smoothing the lapel of his velvet suit jacket with a long, bony finger.
"Your parents sold you to me, as a...bride," he said. One could call his expression pained, though there were no muscles attached to his skeletal face. His voice was tired and seemed to emanate from everywhere as he shifted from one foot to the other, and fiddled with his gray pocket square.
All that the girl could register as she gazed up at the man was a smooth skull, pearly white, surrounded by dark, smoky tendrils. It occurred to her that she should probably be frightened, as she stood before a massive skeleton, dressed for a fancy dinner, oozing what looked like pure shadow from every crevice. His eyes were empty pits, made darker still by his eldritch magic that flowed out and around his body. And yet, somehow, all she felt was curiosity. She'd truly seen worse, as far as monsters went.
"How old are you?" The girl asked. She looked at her feet. Her new shoes had scuff marks on them from being dragged to the foot of the sacrificial altar by her mother just minutes prior.
"I am older than the sun, the moon, and the stars, if that gives you an idea," Death said evenly.
"I'm eleven," the girl said. Death cringed internally. "And my name is Kit."
"Hello, Kit. My name is..." Death faltered, trying to think of a name that wouldn't frighten the child.
"My name is...it's...Ender. And I just want to make clear, we're not married. Your parents weren't going to stop offering your soul to the ancient gods until someone stepped up and paid your...your bride price. So I put a stop to it. I hope that's okay."
Kit looked up at the god and nodded. She was trying not to cry, Death noticed. She'd been through this process a few times already and been turned down by the other gods. He'd have to have a word with them.
"I'm starting to get it. Thanks, Ender. I don't think my mom wanted me around anymore. It didn't matter where I went, right?"
Death felt anger boiling inside his skull. Kit didn't seem like a bad kid in the slightest. He would have sensed it, given the fact that he was the judge, jury and executioner of who lived and died in this realm. The actions of her parents made him seethe.
"If you want, we can smite her from this plane of existence," Death quipped.
"Does that mean killing her?" Kit whispered.
"It can."
"I...I don't think I want to do that, but maybe something else would be good..."
And that was how Death incarnate, shepherd of wayward souls, got roped into the endless, childish pranks of an eleven year old girl.
He'd never felt so alive. | "Uhhhhhh... Okay...?" She replied, slowly taking the card from his, uh, hand? It's hard to say, not so much a hand, or a tentacle, or tentacles... If you look closely, maybe the tentacles are made of hands... Is it even tangible? The card is, but...
"By the way, if you'd wish I could hear you from anywhere in this realm, so if you are not by my side and need me, just say a prayer and I'll be there." He said, pulling his hand away and hiding it. The other ones too.
"Well, if you'll excuse me."
And like that, he's gone.
"Well, maybe this wasn't all bad!" She said, looking at the card, recalling to the terrifying ritual she had to endure, scaring for her own life. She looked at the wound on her chest, already healing thanks to the mysterious being.
Maybe, she should go for a nice dinner using this new card to try and forget some of the trauma, yea, at a nice steakhouse.
She finished her food, handed the waitress her card and sipped on the last of her wine, feeling just a little better after the whole ordeal. The waitress was back.
"Ma'am, your card has been declined."
"Ma'am, your card has been declined." | 2022-08-09T18:52:48 | 2022-08-09T17:37:06 | 285 | 53 |
[WP] After mastering lucid dreaming you find you have complete control over other people’s dreams too. You can choose what they dream of down to the tiniest detail and even join them without them realising you’re actually real. Their subconscious is your playground. Hope they were nice to you. | I've been doing this for years, now... and I've never really "Freddy Kruger"d anybody. It's crossed my mind, of course. I've even put the fear into some people, but I always end on a sunny note. I guess I'm just not a mean guy.
Initially, I visited the dreams of people I knew. Handed out fun stuff, had some good times. Then I learned some things I'd rather not have known, and that ended that era of my dream-hopping. Afterward I spent some time with celebrities... made *them* have racy dreams of *me*. Of course they have no idea who I am, but I guarantee they'd recognize me on the street. Yeah, that was a fun saga. I'd visit more than just hot celebrities, though -- see how music forms in the brains of my favorite artists. Sit in on a scientist or philosopher. There are a lot of neat dreams once you get out of your own head.
Eventually I got bored of trying to *choose* new people and just began to sort of fall into random dreams. This was really interesting in a benign way. I saw some weird stuff again, but they were strangers now... I could change it, or leave, or... maybe learn something new about myself.
Once I fell into the dreams of a guy I hated -- *loathed* in college. The details of why I hated him are inconsequential... I'm sure you've got someone who makes your blood boil, just picture them. So I fall into his dreams, and *that's* when I really decided to mess something up. I slink around in his dreams for a while, trying to learn something to really get at his core. I couldn't just drop him in a nightmare... that's surface damage. I had to be patient; I sat through many pleasant dreams of his, each of them reaffirming my quest. I would ruin him... Patience.
*Finally*, I thought. It was dark, dingy. The colors were muted. He sat with some toys on the floor of a kitchen that was a size too big. I stood invisibly in the corner as a stomping sound wafted in through a doorway, and then a man who was unmistakably his father -- too large, looming, heaving with every breath -- ducks into the kitchen. His eyes are sunken beneath a heavy brow, and the air in the kitchen turns to alcohol. My eyes and throat burn briefly before I have the presence of mind to stop feeling it.
*CLEAN UP THIS GODDAMN MESS!*
A woman enters meekly, but with a loud shrill voice: *I TOLD HIM TO CLEAN IT UP! I TOLD YO--*
A loud smack from the father, and the mother figure puffs into mist, drifting away out of the kitchen. The man-child on the floor -- my nemesis, my victim -- begins to weep. So far I've done nothing to this dream.
The father, without another word, takes off his belt. It makes a scraping, rasping sound, like a sighing dragon. The belt comes up and cracks down on the boy, who is screaming, sobbing, screaming, sobbing. With each swing of the belt, he shrinks a little, slowly becoming this weak, whimpering ball. With each strike, Father grows bigger, darker. This is *exactly* what I was looking for... and I am disgusted.
I leap forward from nowhere, putting myself ahead of the next strike with a gleaming golden shield. The belt shatters against it, and as the enraged Father raises his fists he is enveloped in golden light. The light subsides, and he is gone. I stand alone over the cowering boy, who looks up bewildered -- he's had this dream many times, but not like this.
As I help him to his feet, he recognizes my face, and I can see the weird, confused slew of emotions running through his head... and I kind of like that better than my original plan. Let him puzzle over his 'savior' when he wakes up.
On my way out, just for fun, fading into the pure golden light, I reach out and rap on his balls, singing *nutcheeeeck*. Ahh, satisfaction. | *"One.... two..."*
School. They hate school. Of course they do, who doesn't? Little fucks. Hee hee hee...
*"...coming for you..."*
I formed the hallway to their math class, pulled them all into the dream. Watched them walking down the impossibly long corridor. Let them hear my laughter as if it were in the distance... oh I bet they were wishing I was in the distance. Heh.
*"Three... four..."*
I killed the lights. Watched them scrabble and scramble like rats.
*"Better lock your door..."*
They separated. They always separated. Stupid shits. I followed one, pretty black girl. Tasty, exotic. \*SLICE SLICE!* Now she was more red then brown. Heh heh heh.
*"Five... six..."*
The blonde bimbo next. Dropped some visions of her stepfather in front of her, the belt and the bottle. Made her run. Her balloon tits bounced nice when she ran. \*SLICE SLICE!* No more bouncing. I juggled them for her as she clasped her bleeding chest and screamed. HAHAHHA!
*"Grab your crucifix..."*
The computer nerd next. Scared of conflict, scared of bigger kids. Surrounded him with monsters dressed in football uniforms. Made them pull his limbs off. Let him lay there on the field just short of the goal line. Heh.
*"Seven... eight..."*
Three left. The dumpy fat girl next. May as well get the whale out of the way. Boring, bland, afraid of never being noticed. I put her on a stage, let her go to stage fright, before the spectral audience trampled her to death. Hee hee hee.
*"Better stay up late."*
The jock next, and his brother. I went for the kid first, seperated them. The little boy reminded me of glory days. Before I was what I am now. \*SLICE SLICE!* Too easy. Time for the bigger prey.
*"Nine... ten..."*
The jocky athletic guy was all that remained. Fear of failure, fear of not measuring up to his dad's stories of how great and amazing he was at his son's age. I put the kid in diapers, had him in the arms of his father. Let him have enough time being cradled like a baby to let his defenses drop... then the pillow. Held over his face, as his father yelled about how he'd never be good enough.
This one didn't die... he blinked out of the dream. Woke up. Dammit. But I smiled.
*"Never sleep again..."*
I always got my targets in the end. | 2018-06-19T15:04:02 | 2018-06-19T14:55:35 | 1,738 | 36 |
[WP] One day in class you decide to scream something in your head to catch mind readers. As you do, you see your crush flinch | (slightly NSFW)
 
It's a Monday.
It's 7am and I haven't been awake for more than 30 minutes so I can barely remember the name of the professor monologuing at the front of the classroom, much less what subject we're supposed to be studying.
I think it's appropriate to say that my mind is nowhere near a fully functional state. My head's probably drifting off somewhere in space two universes over.
I can barely keep my eyes open more than twenty seconds at a time, and if I were more awake I would swear to you that every third blink I took was slower.
Something in the back of my head is desperately trying to keep me from keeling over in my drowsy stupor and face planting into the back of the seat in front of me, so I desperately search the crowd of heads in front of me for something- **anything**- interesting.
A glimpse of a familiar light golden brown catches the edge of my vision, and my eyes immediately lock onto a wig of somewhat orderly bed head two rows down from me.
The hair belongs to Iralynn, a... I guess the best description would be an acquaintance. I've known her since my sophomore year in high school. We've talked before, even participated together in a few group projects back then, but I've never really spent a lot of time with her.
We know of each other, but I don't think either of us would deem the relationship between us an actual friendship.
Which is why it seems really weird to me that I would develop a crush on her.
It started half way through my senior year when I, for some reason I can never place to this day, decide to myself that she was objectively cute.
It wasn't really an attraction at the time, it was more like how one would say a puppy was adorable or a flower was pretty. But whatever the original thought was, it quickly developed into something more.
I saw that she was caring and kind to her friends. In projects she was always ready to step up to the plate for any responsibilities that might come her way. She was hard working but also easygoing. In group conversations in noticed she was incredibly animated, yet somehow sensitive to the emotions around her.
But I never approached her, even after learning that we had gone to the same college. It was mostly out of a sense of insecurity.
I mean, I was an Asian boy and she was a Caucasian girl. Granted she was a quarter Brazilian and an eighth Egyptian, but that's kind of splitting hairs at this point.
And I know that it shouldn't matter what race she or I was, but growing up under the preconception that Asian boys don't get the White girls and living in an all-Asian community that seemed to reflect that left some pretty deeply rooted insecurities.
It didn't help that she had an incredible figure. I mean, what else could you expect from someone who was our school cheer leading captain who also somehow made it onto our volleyball varsity team as well.
There was a day when the cheerleaders had to share the pool with those of us on the swim team, so believe me when I say that I know what her figure looks like.
Hell, she asked me if her suit was too tight! I had to turn around to hide my red cheeks. Of course I said no, but by time I had gotten control of my face and turned around she was gone.
My thoughts of Iralynn and her figure were cut short by a rush of blood to the netherlands.
I flushed red with drowsy embarrassment and shifted uncomfortably in my chair, trying to hide my morning wood. I swear, I'm not normally this volatile. If I'm being honest, I have withering self-confidence issues about my body.
Iralynn moves a bit in her seat, and my sleepy mind panics for a bit. I calm down, and a thought wanders into my head: *"If Iralynn could have read my mind just now, I'd want to die of embarrasment."*
Two rows down, the girl shifts again and I panic for a split second more. Then I laugh under my breath.
*"Mind reading? What a joke,"* I think to myself. I smile and laugh inside as I think over how ridiculous the idea was. I mean, c'mon me. Mind reading is sci-fi stuff. I'm an introvert, and I take solace in knowing that my thoughts are mine alone; private.
Half joking and half mocking myself, in my mind I spontaneously break out into the loudest, most emasculating moan I can muster.
If it was out loud, someone might have probably thought I just pulled myself off.
Iraynn visibly flinches in front of me with an audible intake of air, and everything in my mind just... stops. I'm now fully awake, and my heart is racing inside my chest.
Slowly, to my growing horror, she turns around and our eyes meet. Her face is red, and she's wearing an expression I can't put into words on her face... but the look says it all.
My face takes on a hue to match hers, and we just stare at each other like deer caught in headlights. Everything inside me withers away in our stare.
All my bravado, my dignity, and what little pride I had in myself as a man, just gone.
In it's place, an overwhelming urge to roll up into a ball and die.
 
(I'm thinking of maybe doing a reverse POV.) | *C'mon Tom, SohCahToa,... tangent is opposite over adjacent which gets me... a ratio for... the hypotenuse?*
Math tests are not my strongest suit. Didn't help that last night was spent mostly in existential crisis-mode.
What's the point of these equations if I was gonna die before I used them again. What's the point of school when it lead you down the winding road towards the chasm that is clinical depression. What's the point of peers if they were all irredeemable dirtbags.
*At least one of them is an actual human being.*
Even the thought of him sends me daydreaming. Warm brown hair in those fantastic curls, freckles so light you had to stare to notice them, a smile that could pierce the heavens and contest those of angels, and above it all, he treated everyone with respect and mindfulness. His beauty only bested by his incredibly social demeanor, Ed is the only person in this whole school that makes it worth breaking myself over math.
*...Not that it could ever lead to anything*, that dark part of my mind said. *He definitely deserves better than some random depressed kid. And besides, 8/10 chances he's straight. Stop wrecking yourself over him, he could do way better than you. He has friends in way higher places than you could ever hope to achieve in your limited lifespan. If you can crush on him as you do, a hundred girls can do better.*
*...Then I'll just be a secret admirer. I don't need his validation, I just want him to do well in life.*
That hurts. 'I don't need his validation.' Keeps ringing in my ears, sounding more hurtful every time. I don't notice I'm tearing up until the teacher announces 20 minutes left and snaps me out of my train of thought. Back to math...
10 minutes later and I'm done before most other people, which is immediately concerning, but I hand in nonetheless. I find myself dwelling and dwelling invariably leads back to that beautiful mess of brown hair, two seats to the front and one to the left. As I look over, he seems beautiful as ever, a light blush covering his cheeks as he looks at his math like a parent at their favorite child.
I find myself lost in what-If's.
*What if he's actually gay, and hiding it from the world. What if he actually likes me back.* The thought almost makes me smile at the bittersweetness of it all. *What if he makes a family, I bet he'll make a great dad. What if he joins the swim team. I bet he'd look great in a Speedo...*
I mentally berate myself for the thought, but I can't stop the next. *I bet he's got girls dropping their panties for him all over school. I'd sure love to...* I stop myself from going any further, lest my arousal became too visibly obvious. *Stop thinking like that.*
A final what-If: *What if he's reading my mind right now. He'd never speak to me again. He'd know I'm as dull and boring as I look. He'd know about my infatuation for him.*
The thought is terrifying. In dire need of a lighter mood, I think of a meme befitting the situation as I often do. One about mind-reading... oh. Well, I guess I could find out.
*ahem*
***AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA***
As soon as I channel my pent-up stress and anger into a mental scream with the volume turnt up to airplane, I hear rapid movement from my front-left. As I look in his direction, I see him sat straight up, hands to his ears.
*No, no no no no no no...*
He looks behind him, straight at me.
***NO NO NO NO NO NO NO***
«»
Will continue if I feel like it. | 2017-11-13T22:10:35 | 2017-11-13T21:54:03 | 28 | 12 |
[WP] You are the only human at the Arcane College, and the students there are not exactly welcoming. Fast forward four years, and you are the most terrifying magic caster in the academy's history. | Elasyra, blonde-haired elf of perfect appearance, crossed her arms with a pretentious smirk. “A Mundane? They really _are_ letting anyone in now aren’t they?”
At Arcanum, it was ordinary to be extraordinary. Elves, demonspawn, angels, dwarves, the odd orc or two, and (I suspect) several of the fae all studied and honed their magical abilities.
So I, a perfectly normal human named Peter, was met with a little curiosity. Mostly mockery.
“Peter? Fifth most popular name among humans in the year of your birth. Were your creators searching for solidarity among their kin, or did they simply lack the creativity to bestow an original name upon you?”
The monotonous speaker, who had introduced themselves as AS0L (Advanced Simulacrum 0L), was the most intricate construct ever created. AS0L had been enrolled at the Arcanum by his creator, the legendary wizard Atreus, to determine how much magic the construct could learn organically.
“Actually, I was named after my grandfather,” I replied. “It’s a family name.”
“Imagine passing that name down for so many of your short-lived years,” Elasyra mused. “But then again, I suppose Peter is a perfectly suitable name for a farm boy. Not a mage.”
I smiled and shrugged. “Well, it’s the only name I’ve got. If you’ll excuse me, I have class.”
As I turned, I felt my feet twist out from under me. I landed, felt a sharp pain on my hip, and my tones scattered across the stone floor. I heard AS0L and Elasyra snicker, and heard the construct’s droning voice as they walked by.
“Careful mundane. Floors are slippery.”
_Clever use of that spell,_ I thought as I painfully got to my feet and retrieved my books. _But I’ll learn a trick or two myself, just you wait…_
**Four Years Later**
The blooming cherry trees were a beautiful backdrop for the graduation ceremony. I sat in my dark blue robes, waiting for my name to be called.
Since I was an exemplary student my teachers merely tolerated my presence. Furthermore, despite most of the other students belittling my guts, I had made two friends—Ghar, a burly orc whose brains surpassed his great brawn, and Jorâl, a demonspawn who had been ostracized from the others due to her sharp wit and sharper tongue.
The graduation ceremony featured a final presentation, where each student would create a magical display showcasing their respective talents. Illusions, evocations, and music were most common, but there was a smattering of every school of magic present. It was considered an honor to be among the first to present. For reasons I probably don’t have to explain, I was last.
Elasyra stood on stage to present first. She waved her hand, and opened her mouth…but no words nor spells were forthcoming.
“Is everything alright?” one of the teachers asked.
“Yes sir, everythung ish alrit,” Elasyra slurred. To the astonished audience, it seemed as if the normally unflustered and dignified elf was losing her sanity before their very eyes. Red-faced, Elasyra stumbled to her seat and sat down, drooling like a fool.
AS0L was next. The normally precise hand movements became erratic, and no spells were forthcoming from them either. Alteus, present in the audience, rushed onto the stage. “What’s going on?”
AS0L gave no comprehensible answer as he was lead back to his seat, jabbering in weird whistles and clicks.
An important note: if a student could not or would not present their final project, their graduation would be delayed until after they took a remedial class.
None of the other students could present, but they retained enough presence of mind to stammer out apologies. Jorâl glanced at me, fear and confusion in her eyes as she stepped up to present. I smiled and nodded, doing my best to reassure her.
Jorâl took a deep breath…and performed her musical magic flawlessly, to thunderous applause.
Ghar also displayed his illusions to great effect, eliciting a similar reaction from the crowd as Jorâl did.
Finally, last among two dozen students, I stepped up. “First of all, I’d like to thank the teachers and peers that made these four years an enlightening experience. You truly are of one kind.”
I waved my hand. Twenty-one different final projects sprung to life around me, all from different schools of magic. It was a dazzling display (as evidenced by the awed eyes of the audience), each piece intertwining with one another. After my allotted three minutes were up, the magic vanished into sparks, and I bowed.
There was some scattered applause. I’m pretty sure the teachers suspected Something Had Happened, but I knew they lacked the knowledge of _what_ had happened. However, they could not ignore the rules they themselves had set. Ghar, Jorâl, and myself were the only members of the graduating class of 634. The rest were to take what would hopefully be their final class. I saw tears, anger, and confused glances as the teachers explained their fate to them.
As I walked towards the exit of the exit of the Arcanum, I waved to Elasyra and AS0L, still drooling and uncomprehending. “Careful, friends—a mind is a terrible thing to lose.”
And watched the life flee from their eyes as I drained the last of their intelligence and knowledge from them. | >*I will speak to you all with the firmness and stalwart dedication of a student of the Lord's Holy Cross Academy, as befits my current station. I hope that you will take my words to heart, and I hope the words I speak here will hit your hearts with the emotion and vigor from which they are coming out of mine. As such, I shall begin.*
>
>*I was accepted to the Lord's Holy Cross Academy for Magically Gifted children when I was 13. For this, I would like to thank the raising I was given, by my wonderful parents, Margerie and Paul Theophania, as they taught me the kindness required to become such an esteemed member of society. My acceptance marked the first time a student with an average lifespan below 150 was accepted into the school, and for this, I celebrated. Years of hard work as a child, attempting to politically scheme my way into this wonderful academy, were a success.*
>
>*Now, I would like to individually thank you all, as is befitting of the station of the Class Representative of the solar year 14535.*
>
>*To my professors, who actively discriminated against me for my short lifespan, and for my lack of noble prestige, thank you. You taught me how to adapt, and how to work past adversity. You taught me that the world is not always fair, and that there are people who will hate you for what they see. In your attempts to push me down and out of the school, you gave me the tools required to make myself one of the most academically and magically gifted students this academy has seen in millennia. I could not thank you enough for that gift.*
>
>*To certain advisors, who actively ignored attacks on my dignity and self, I thank you. You taught me how to fight on my own, and how to use both my words, alongside my actions, to settle disputes with others. Without you, I doubt I would be the expert negotiator and spell-slinger that I am today. Your negligence in recording and acting upon my reports of suspicious behavior against me forced me to take situations into my own hands, and forced me to learn to carry the burdens of other people when they can't. For that, I thank you.*
>
>*To the many students of my graduating class, alongside those my junior, I thank you. Your ability to verbally put me down, and to make me doubt my own skill taught me to show confidence in the face of adversity, and allowed me to find the world a much more calm and caring place. Your attacks on both my physical form and reputation taught me to turn the other cheek, and to take words with the wisdom of someone who knows when to not strike back. You taught me patience, and showed me what love looks like through its converse. Because of you, especially, I had to learn how to work with people who were unwilling to work in kind. By the way, your plans to rig the microphone to blast slurs during my speech failed. I apologize for the inconvenience, and for the inability to take a joke.*
>
>*To the administration of this school, including the principal, who signed his name at the bottom of my acceptance letter, I would like to give my utmost thanks. You showed me that learning is not simply restrained to classrooms, but occurs all around us, no matter if we are in a school, in our dormitories, or being attacked by chaos demons summoned to kill us in our sleep. No matter the place, or time, we must know that our process in learning does not stop here. It will go on past these walls, and out into the world.*
>
>*I sincerely hope that my words have reached you. I do not know how you will fare in the world outside these walls otherwise.*
>
>*May the Lord Protect You, and may the Lord Bless This Prestigious Academy. Thank You.* | 2022-01-23T13:46:17 | 2022-01-23T12:03:55 | 40 | 21 |
[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors | *Just one more post, then I'll head to bed. So many purple links. The only blue links are from r/TIL, but seriously, who actually opens those?"*
I take a sip of my coffee, struggling to work up the motivation to walk 10 feet to my bed.
*Perhaps, I'll browse r/new for a bit. I mean someone has to do it, right? Maybe I'll get a top comment this time. *
Scrolling down, I nearly missed it. "Aliens Invade! Redditors Unite!"
*PFFFT! Just some karma whore, I'm sure of it.*
A quick look at the comment history and I see 3,423 post karma, but no 1 year trophy.
*Alright, u/Lightly_Saltedd, What do you have to say?*
Aliens have invaded all of the world's capitals and are demanding information. At the time of this post no one had yet found out what they wanted. I refresh the page and see that the article has been updated. Aliens have begun slaughtering people they find useless to their cause. All of the world leaders and their families are dead, and they've moved on to entire populations, save for some. Nobody understands why. Maybe they were lucky. Maybe they planned ahead. Maybe they know something everyone else didn't. Either way, one thing is certain: it wasn't by accident.
Stunned, I rush to the window. Outside it's eerie and quiet. Cars are empty, the streets are abandoned, and there are clothes all over the place. I'm still here, but why? I have to find answers.
I head back to my computer and refresh the page. Hundreds of new posts have popped up, all reporting on the story, but one in particular catches my eye.
**"We are responsible for the decimation of your species. If you are reading this, you've been left alive for a reason. AUA."**
My hands are shaking so violently I can barely type, but I must get the question out.
*"Why have you left us alive?"*
**Because within this userbase is the answer to our question.**
*What do you want to know?*
**What's inside the safe?**
| The day of the snoo was upon us, after years of us mocking of their race they decided now was the time to strike.
Their first move was to take out the pretenders at /r/totallynotaliens. The snoo struck them down with their mighty Internet bending powers, killing all of those who clicked on /r/totallynoyaliens.
The snoo moved to systematically took out every single Reddit page, they spared no one. They tried to kill /u/spez and /u/Mattophobia, but it turned out they were both emotionless robots.
After a week of absolute slaughter the snoo's had reclaimed Reddit as their own. Classes would use the site to teach young snoos of the evils of humans. | 2017-05-31T08:14:37 | 2017-05-31T08:09:48 | 247 | 24 |
[WP] The private investigator was stumped. The scene of the murder was messy. Not in the gory sense, but it was littered with tons and tons of contradictory evidence. Thousands upon thousands of individual leads and not one connects with another. | I was no ordinary investigator, I made my reputation from thin air as the best homicide detective that Vancouver has ever seen.
I took the liberty of solving hundreds of cold cases, and I did so expecting nothing in return except the glory of having finally brought the guilty criminal to justice.
Yet when this case was plopped on my desk, I thought it would be the easiest case I ever solved.
The first lead I discovered seemed cut and dry, her husband.. She apparently got caught cheating on him after all.
He had the biggest motive, and had the most access to her, yet that couldn't possibly make sense when I found out the affair partner bought a gun, the same kind of gun that was used to murder her.. The husband had no such weapons that I could discover unless he was intelligent enough to illegally buy the same weapon that the affair partner had, knew what gun he had, and threw away the evidence when the search warrant was enacted.
When I arrested and brought the affair partner to interrogation though, he swore on his life that he had nothing to do with it.
"I will get a lawyer, polygraph test me all you like, I would have never done this to Sarah!" he yelled.
Very well I thought, then another possible lead came up, finger prints at the crime scene of five different people. One being her sister, another her brother, one being her boss, and two others that seem to have no connection to the victim whatsoever.
"this is the most confusing case I've ever had.." I thought to myself, as I pondered deeply on how I will be able to figure out who did it.
I interrogate each lead one by one, all of them of course swearing their innocence.. Only the victims brother has a reliable alibi though, and one of the people with no connection to the victim has a alibi as well.
I have nearly given up on this case, how can I possibly come to a clear conclusion of who was responsible for the girls murder.. that was until a witness came foward..
She was a middle aged girl, brown hair, green eyes, wearing a black coat, and jeans. She knocked on the door to my private investigator building.
"Come in!" I yell out.
She enters the building, and pulls up the chair in front of my desk and sits in front of me.
"what brings you to all seeing eye investigation?" I ask the lady.
"I... saw the murder take place, I didn't want to say anything out of fear of anything happening to me, yet I know I have to because its the right thing to do." Says the brown haired lady, as she fidgets her leg with anxiety.
I take out a giant note pad, and a pen, and then reply, "I'm really glad you came foward, tons of leads on this case without much to go off of, do you have any idea what the murderer looks like?"
"He was very tall probably 6'4, he had a snake tattoo on his arm, and he was lanky, not very muscular or fat." she continues.
"hmm.. doesn't seem to match any possible lead I have so far.." I say to her, as I write this information down.
"did you get a good look at his face? Can you describe that so I can draw it out?" I continue.
" Unforneatly it was very dark, he was white though, thin trimmed beard, and that's all I could gather." She retorts.
"Very well, give me your number, and I will give you my card, if you get any more information, please let me know." I tell the girl, as I hand her my card, and she writes down her number on a post-it note and hands it over to me.
I'm unable to do much with the lead she gave me, and nearly a week goes by when she calls me.
".. I think I see that man again, he's right in front of me.." She says on the phone with panic in her voice, yet she tries to keep the volume of her voice down like a whisper.
"Tell me the address and I will be right over there!" I reply frantically.
She quietly whispers me the address, and I grab my gun, and get in my car and ride all the way over there.
"You stupid bitch! I will kill you!" I hear a tall figure yelling, as he appears to be pushing down and hitting the girl that gave me the lead.
I immediately exit my car, and fire shots into the man, he seems to fall to the ground.
I make my way over to the girl, and ask her, "are you okay?"
"..yes I'm fine, thanks for saving me.." she says with calmness in her voice.
Suddenly, I hear gun shots, four of them.. I got shot four times...
"you really are dumb aren't you.." says some masked figure that is now standing over me.
The 6'4 man that I shot now gets up, and takes off his coat, it appears he was wearing a bullet proof vest, the girl also gets up and seems unharmed and unphased..
"this whole entire thing was all a ruse, to finally put a stop to you.. after you busted my father for being a hitman I wanted to get real revenge on you, what better way to make you suffer then give you an unsolvable case, then lure you and murder you after.." The masked figure says, as he takes off his mask and reveals himself to be the son of Markus Banks, the mafia hitman I busted years ago.
I'm gargling blood, and gasping for air, I have no possible way to fight back...
"To answer your question, it was the husband that wanted her dead, he was just smart enough to call us so we could frame a bunch of people for it, and then kill you after.." the man says grinning at me.
He points his gun at my head, then pulls the trigger. Everything fades to black, as I no longer care about the injustice of this all. | (1/2)
“Here for room three-oh-four?” the superintendent asks me, her large nosy eyes prying for information out of me that the detective denied her.
“Horace Walden,” I tell her, presenting to her my business card.
She scrutinizes the three-and-a-half by two-inch paper, reads off the full text like everyone else does when they see it.
“Horace Walden, PI, parentheses also DDS, DVM, JD, MBA, MD, PhD, TD,” she says in rapid-fire.
“My that’s some impressive titles, Mr. Walden, or should I call you doctor?” the superintendent asks me with a sly gleam in her eyes that show clear currency symbols behind her pupils.
“Just Horace will be fine, Miss…?”
“Gladstone, my maiden name, after my worthless ex-husband walked out on me and left me to take care of this building all by myself. But for you, Horace, you can call me Helen.”
“Please provide me with the key to room 304,” I say to the ever-more brazen woman.
She complies, handing over a spare key from behind her desk.
“You know, I’d be willing to show you my key after you’re done up there,” she says, as she gives me a wink with her partly sunken-with-age left eye.
I take the key without making physical contact.
“Thank you, I will return this after I finish my work,” I say.
Unfortunate, I tell myself.
She’s not too bad looking, and available emotionally from the sounds of it.
Too bad she didn’t ask about the TD.
No one ever asks about the TD.
Oh, how I long to meet the one who shares in my passion for the finer rules of American football!
Lost in thought, I make my way to room 304, where I turn the key and turn the old brass doorknob.
The tin door groans as I push it open and walk inside.
Pungent aromas besiege me upon entrance.
Thick stenches of cigarette smoke intertwine with rosy fragrances of lavender perfume, all while the cloud of liquor hangs in the background.
I must thank the officers and detective for not airing out the room before I got here.
Scent is just as important a clue as any other.
My eyes immediately lock on to the outline marked in white chalk against the cheap imitation hardwood floor.
From the look of the pose, the body, when it was still there, was in a prone position.
The poor man died face-down.
There is no saliva or vomitus on the floor, and no signs that the area had been recently cleaned.
From what Detective Ramsey told me, the victim had nothing covering his mouth either.
Clean floor, face-down victim.
I look to the left and spot the source of the tobacco odor.
Half a carton left of light convenience store brand cigarettes lies half an inch from the outline of the victim’s left hand.
The other three that are scattered a couple inches in the vicinity are empty.
Victim’s lungs must be more tar and nicotine than collagen and air by now.
I continue to scan along the room until I spot a photo of the man standing atop a podium, smiling in the camera as he hoists a trophy in the air.
The caption under the photo reads: 2022 Metropolitan Invitational.
It’s a recent tournament, and one for which I was called in to be the chair umpire at the last minute because of my referee experience.
Could this be the work of a rival, perhaps to ensure their victory in an upcoming tournament?
I continue reading the text: Participation trophy. | 2022-09-05T07:39:38 | 2022-09-05T06:48:22 | 56 | 37 |
[WP] Throughout history, when great evil threatens a country, swords in stone appear within its borders. Only those chosen may pull the swords out to join the round table and defend their country. It is now 2017 and swords have appeared across the globe. | It started with a blade lodged in stone in the middle of Time Square. People took selfies pretending to remove the sword. Some claimed it was Banksy, others an environmental protest to symbolize our raping of the Earth. But at the end of the day, all it truly was was a cool prop to some teenager's duck-faced selfie.
Then one day, someone found an exact replica, this time deep within the Grand Canyon. Whoever had placed it there had carried a three ton slab of stone twenty miles through perilous cliff sides and falling rock. The internet was abuzz and the search began.
They found them in deep mountains all over the world from Tibetian ruins to Japenese grocery stores to the Saharan dunes. Nobody knew what they were only that one morning a spot could be empty and the next, a stone and a sword.
Everything changed with one Taliya Seya, a sixteen-year-old girl with dirty blonde hair, a short skirt, and in desperate need of more Instagram likes. She grabbed the sword and as she snapped her photo, it came out of the rock. A light beamed upon her from the heavens and the stone shattered in two.
"Brave hero," a voice said, "Take the sword and defend what little you have left. Darkness is on its way."
And she could see it, a horde of monsters tunneling deep beneath the Earth. Through our outer core, through the mantle, and almost through the crust. The first would come within a year.
"No," the scientists said. "The divine is not real."
"No," the priests said. "There is only one God and he does not deal in these kinds of legends."
"No," the world said. "The mundane is all we know. Nothing will interrupt our livelihood."
But Taliyah knew different. She was destined as a hero. And as word got around, there were the believers, those who traveled the world in search of a sword fit for them. Every few weeks, another story was told and another rumor rejected. But no scientist or priest or common man could reject the rubble of the stones once planted deep within the Earth.
Though even as the world considered the truth, even as the scientists sought new answers, and the priests prayed for more insight, the darkness never stopped crawling, drilling, digging. In three days it would be upon the world. Hopefully, there would be enough heroes to defend it then.
---
---
/r/jraywang for 2+ stories daily plus continuations by popular request, bonus stories, and more! | They call us Gladiators.
We were those who could pull the swords from the stone. We were once like you, businessmen, parents, teachers. Now it is us, the gladiators that keep the horde at bay. The horde which dwells below the surface and have waited for their time to strike. They come from below and we come to stop them.
I went to the stone with my family, wife and 2 sons, as a vacation. When I pulled the sword, it was the government who took me away. I fight everyday so I can see my family again and with my fellow gladiators quell this great evil.
We travel where we are needed and we will not stop our quest. We will fight the horde to the death, sword in hand and fire in our hearts. We are the Gladiators. | 2017-05-03T17:39:32 | 2017-05-03T16:23:28 | 187 | 21 |
[WP] You run a tattoo parlor. Every couple of weeks, the same customer comes in, always requesting the same tattoo: an additional tally mark on an ever-growing cluster of tally marks. | ((First response, hope everyone enjoys!))
"'Nother, Chief."
We had our routine. He came in, nodded at me, and went and sat down in his favorite chair. He always had an appointment, of course, but always that same greeting, his voice never changing, cigarettes and kindness over neat whiskey.
He was a grizzled old bear, but in surprisingly good shape; under that flannel shirt he almost always wore lurked well-maintained, lithe muscle. I knew his arms well, and his legs; I'd lost count of his marks a while ago.
"Arm this time."
I nodded and put on the gloves. I finally decided to screw up my courage and ask, since there wouldn't be a place to put any more lines in a few more sessions without getting rather, ahem, *personal* if you catch my drift. "Y' know," I began over the hum of the needle after whetting it with pitch blank ink, "Y' never have explained these to me. And I think I lost track of 'em a while ago."
He let out a soft grunt as I did my art, but didn't respond. "They wanted to live," he finally stated. "Not all, but these ones did. This is how I celebrate, y' see."
I cocked an eyebrow as I finished the black slash covering one of hundreds of rows of groups of tallies on his body, deciding against inquiring further since I could tell by his tone it was something personal.
He paid in cash, like always, and left a ridiculous tip, like always.
____*____
My mind wandered that night about what he meant, my brain almost aching from its gears churning so hard. He'd always been a mystery, my regular, ever since he got his first tally mark on him, right smack over his heart. Never gave his name, never spoke more than a sentence or two, always sat like a statue through the quick work of getting the tally done.
I found myself restless and decided to go for a walk towards the Hoover Street bridge, hoping the water might give me some ideas for nautical tattoos. As I approached, I heard a conversation.
"Please don't do this." A familiar voice, this time concern mixed with the cigarettes and alcohol.
I increased my leisurely stroll to a run in the direction of the voice, realizing it was coming from out over the bridge. In fact, probably right in the middle of it. Putting two and two together, I backed off a bit and hid behind a building at the end of the bridge, slowing my pace again to give him time to talk the other person down.
"I'm so tired," came a young man's voice in reply, far too young-sounding to have the kind of thoughts he was having. "Just let me do this."
"I won't let you without trying to talk you out of it first." His voice was calm, full of concern and what sounded like a lot of experience. "You may never meet the people that care about you, or you may have already met them, but people do care about you. Including me. The pain is very real, but it's temporary. Remember that. *Everything* is temporary but what you're about to do."
There was audible sobbing after a few seconds.
"I can introduce you to some friends. Get you some help. I know life sucks right now, and I can tell by what you want to do that it *really* sucks for you right now in all kinds of ways. But it gets better. I promise. It may not seem like it, but it does."
I heard shuffling noises, then silence for a long time. *Too* long. I was just getting really worried when I heard it:
"C-can you help me back over?"
I turned and headed for my home as quietly as I could after I was sure help wasn't needed. I'd never let the Angel of Hoover Street Bridge know that I knew his identity.
I'd take it to my grave.
And it would be an honor to continue helping him commemorate every life he saved.
| "I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know," I laughed "they're on your body. Shouldn't you know why you're getting them?"
He looked at me confused for a minute and simply said "I know I should. But I don't remember why. I just remember that I'm supposed to get one. I have to remember."
"Ok, boss, whatever you say." I prepped in silence for a minute or so, gathering the ink, putting together the needles, but the mystery was just too much for me. "So how do you know you're supposed to get them if you don't know why?"
"I don't know. But I know I need them in order to remember something -- and that if I see it enough times I can remember. I need to remember."
"When did you have these others done?"
"I started getting them six months ago. At first it was pen marks, but I kept washing them off and thought it was accidental. I never got past a single mark. Then one day I knew that there was something wrong. I should know why I was making these marks. I should remember making these marks. But I never did. But every day a new mark -- and sometimes multiple times a day."
"So you decided to have them put on you permanently?"
"Yes. I had a friend do it first, but it became badly infected and I ended up having this horrible fever dream of faceless monsters coming after me. So I went to a shop, but after a couple of weeks they refused to let me come back no matter what I paid. They said after I started coming in their memories seemed off -- like time was missing in their days. And the pen marks started."
"That sounds intense. I hope you aren't going to drive me crazy too!" I laughed. He didn't. Instead he looked behind me with this look of sheer terror, a look I've never seen on a human being before. His hand, trembling, grabbed a pen from his pocket and gouged a line into his hand, and then a single word "tattoo."
And then, just as suddenly as it came on, it was gone, his face went blank, as if nothing had happened. He laughed and said "I'm sure you'll be fine."
I started to lean in, and he glanced down at his hand, his face falling.
"Two lines, please." | 2016-07-09T14:05:08 | 2016-07-09T11:45:12 | 93 | 52 |
[WP]When you reach 18, you get put in a database which ranks you in different categories (ex. 207,145th in the world for most bug kills) You lived on a ranch and never used tech. You had to go into town after your 18th birthday. Everyone is staring at you. You finally decide to check the database.
Completely unaware of the whole stigma about edits. I’m sure all of you already know how grateful I am, but I apologize nonetheless. Sorry! | The men in the room stared at me. I stared back. We stayed like this for a while, hours maybe, without a word. Occasionally, someone would cough or sneeze, one of the agents even burped, but those moments were few and far between. At this point, it almost seemed like a competition on who would crack first and break the silence. All I knew is I wanted to leave soon.
I hadn’t been in the city very many times before this. I was never a big fan, and never could understand why someone would want to spend their life here. The colors were dark, the noises were loud, the air smelled reeked of cigarettes and engine exhaust, but still there were more people on a street block than I had met in my entire life. Perhaps it was the fact they never seemed to look up from their cell phones, or perhaps they didn’t realize there was anything more to the world, but either way, it never clicked with me. Even the muffled noise from the chatter and daily grind inside the room was overwhelming. Eventually, the tension got to me, and I decided to speak up.
“Why am I still here?”
After a brief silence, I received a reply.
“We’re not allowed to answer that question.”
I took a short moment to process this information, before my brow furrowed. Shortly after, I spoke again.
“Why not?”
This time, another agent spoke, picking up where the last left off without skipping a beat.
“We’re waiting for someone.”
Another brief pause followed.
“What kind of someone?”
I didn’t receive a response, and the room fell silent yet again.
I had my ideas, obviously. Whatever this was, it was clear it wasn’t routine. It had to do with my scan. I was good at something, something that made me a commodity to someone. After all, if it wasn’t important, I doubt having 6 people in the room blocking the exit would be a good use of resources. After that, though, is where it became more speculation for me. I wasn’t the strongest, I wasn’t the fastest, and I wasn’t getting any awards for my Violin skills, either. The guards didn’t seem nervous, so I likely wasn’t an immediate threat either. If the guards weren’t there to stop me, then they were there for something else. They were there to protect me. I felt a shiver go down my spine as my mind quickly swerved into the worst case scenarios, when suddenly, a noise could be heard. A door opening. The men moved out of the way in coordination, like soldiers lining up for their commander. That was the first time I saw him.
He looked unsettlingly casual compared to everyone else in the room. His hair was grey and unkempt, with a baseball cap on his head and sandals on his feet. A chair was brought into the room by another faceless man in black, and he sat down. Then, he laughed.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost! I know I’m quite old, but I assure you I’m still very much alive.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t know how to respond. Thankfully, I didn’t need to.
“You’re wondering why you’re here. You’ve already surmised that these guards are here to protect you, and you’re not exactly ‘normal’.”
Again, I was petrified to even say a word. I felt like was going to die.
“You’re not going to die.”
That got my attention and suddenly, as well as unwillingly, the questions poured out of my mouth like word soup.
“Who are you? Did I do something wrong? Am I in trouble? I want to go home, why am I still here?”
The man laughed again for a short moment, as I grew more frustrated. I looked away, like a child pouting about a toy.
“I’m sorry. You’re scared, I shouldn’t be laughing.”
His preppy smile faded, and shifted to a more serious frown. He went from sitting straight up to leaning with a sympathetic hunch down over the table. Realizing how stupid I probably looked, I looked forward again, yet keeping my eyes at the ground. Feeling that he had my attention again, he promptly continued speaking.
“If I told you that I didn’t feel the same way my whole life after this point, I’d be a liar. I had a family too.”
Had. Pretense. I didn’t like where this was going.
“They’re still alive, but no, I don’t think you’ll like where this is going.”
Again. He had predicted my thoughts perfectly. It was no longer a coincidence.
“You’re not going home. If I could hide what we found today, I’d gladly give my life for it, but you and me are different. Your kind of talent won’t appear on the list, because as far as the world is aware we don’t exist. I need you to look at me.”
A lot of information, plus a lot of things you don’t want to hear, followed by a command. I had had enough. I erupted, threw my chair at the wall, and then he got the eye contact he wanted and more.
“Why the hell should I do that!? Why should I listen to you, who the hell are you to tell me what to do!? The city is a shitshow, and I am NOT staying here! Give me one good reason, one, I shouldn’t try to leave right now?”
“Because neither of our mouths have moved this entire time.”
I stopped. His voice wasn’t coming from the room. It was, in fact in my head.
“Kid...you’re a psychic.” | I arrived in town around 8 as usual. Ideally my father would come to town to pick up supplies so I wouldn’t have to, but he insists I learn how to interact with folks who aren’t farmers. So far, all I’ve learned is that I hate them. All their focus on money and possessions seems absurd to me. I’m a simple man. Animals and plants are more than enough company, and nothing can beat the satisfaction of a good day's work on the farm.
That’s why I like to come to town as early as possible and leave as quickly as possible. The lazy townsfolk seem to get out of their houses only after 10, wasting a good several hours of daylight. So imagine my surprise when I found a huge crowd right outside the hardware store. They were milling around, sipping hot drinks and chatting amongst themselves. I had a brief moment of panic as I wondered if the store was closing for some reason. Perhaps people were buying as much of the inventory as they could before the store shut down. But, I realized, it wouldn’t make sense why the crowd was waiting outside the store, and not shopping inside.
As I got out of my truck and walked towards the front of the store, a few people noticed me and immediately started pointing towards me and shouting. I felt a pit in my stomach - of course all the townspeople wanted to do was to make fun of the farmer. I remember one day back in school a few years ago, a group of kids from the town rode up and threw eggs at us as they mocked us for working the farm. I felt a flash of rage as I braced myself for the taunting soon to come.
To my surprise, however, as I neared the group, the people greeted me with warm smiles. A lady, flanked by a crew carrying two enormous cameras, burst through the crowd and began speaking a mile a minute: “Hello John. My name is Ann and I’m with TWN-1. It’s great to see you today morning. How are you feeling today in light of the discovery? Had you known you were the son of Mr. Bates? Do you plan to remain on your farm or join your father in New York?”
“I...uh...I think you have the wrong person. Sorry.” I tried wading through the crowd but the lady blocked my way.
“Please Mr. Bates. I know you’re a very busy man, but we would all really appreciate the chance to learn more about you. As I’m sure you know, hardly anything interesting happens in this area, and when something finally does it seems awfully rude to refuse to talk to us for just a few minutes.” Around me, I could see people nodding their heads in agreement and frowning.
“Umm. Ok. But I really think you have the wrong person. Joe Last is my father, not some guy named Mr. Bates.”
The lady laughed at that. Then she looked into the camera and said “Well, folks, it appears Mr. Bates hasn’t heard the exciting news yet!” She turned towards me. “Mr. Bates, as you know, every year the government publishes a list of the wealthiest people in America.” I had no idea a list like that was published, but I nodded anyways. “You became eligible for the list on your 18th birthday and yesterday we all found out that you’re worth nearly ten billion dollars! Mr. Bates claimed you as his son at a press conference a few hours ago and is flying down to visit you as we speak. Isn’t that terrific!?!”
The lady smiled and looked at me expectantly. I...didn’t know what to say. This was all too much. Joe Last was my father…but how could all these people be mistaken?
“I...thank you for the information. If you’ll just excuse me.” I turned around and bolted back towards my truck. Behind me I could hear shouting and the sound of people following me.
But there was only one thought in my mind. I needed to have a chat with Joe Last. | 2019-05-04T12:44:12 | 2019-05-04T09:56:06 | 1,055 | 226 |
[WP] “How many people would have been better off had I not been born?” The genie snaps and a few numbers appear in the air and form 7,592. “Okay, how many people would benefit from my existence?” With the flip of a wrist the numbers spin to a whopping 137 trillion. “Okay.... how?” | A bead of sweat formed on the genie's brow, as he nervously searched for the right words to use, fully aware that he was about to deliver my fate.
"Your existence will result in the cure for cancer being developed, which will pave the way for hundreds of generations to come," he said, confident that he had delivered not only the truth, but a means of avoiding a difficult question.
"Oh wow!" I exclaimed, "do I develop the cure myself?"
The genie looked down at his whispy tail, and the glistening lamp he had emerged from. "Not exactly," he replied.
"Oh," I said, suddenly grasping what he meant. "I get cancer?"
The genie lit up. "Oh no no no, nothing like that!" he said, his tone finally shifting. "No you'll be pleased to know that you'll stay cancer free for the rest of your days."
"Great!" I chimed. "But how then? If I don't develop a cure, and I don't get the illness, then how could I help in the development of a cure?"
The genie cursed silently to himself, but he knew that holding out much longer would only prolong the inevitable. "Well, the man who develops the cure will do so as a direct result of your life," he began.
"Go on," I pressed.
"The man in question discovers the cure while serving time for murder."
My stomach dropped. "Mine?"
The genie slowly nodded.
"My... my murderer will result in the development of the cure for cancer?" I asked, the blood drained from my face. At least my life would have an impact on others, I thought to myself. What a way to go.
"Yes. He will discover the cure while researching his own cancer, using the knowledge of his prison library and a volunteer research group he will join," the genie explains.
"I suppose it's for the greater good then," I sighed, accepting my fate. "What kind of cancer does he have, out of interest?" I pry.
"Stomach cancer," the genie replies, "as a result of cannibalism." | The genie smile's "You develop the first space-time gate in 2 years allowing humanity to instantly spread throughout the universe. "
I fill up with pride " I always knew I was special and a deal is a deal with my third wish I set you free"
The lamp crumbles and the genie shakes his arms as the shackles fall off.as he is flying away thinking to himself that was easy you just have to stroke their ego and leave out the details. | 2018-08-15T06:31:04 | 2018-08-15T04:08:10 | 351 | 15 |
[WP] The longer someone is remembered after death, the longer it takes their soul to move on to the afterlife. You spend your life making sure you are forgotten, and you move on almost instantly after death. Hundreds of years later, your soul is suddenly brought back to Earth... | It felt like waking up from a long, long dream. Having a body again felt weird. When my eyes opened, I was laying down on the floor of the library; I took a look at the world around me, the world I had forgotten, and, still confused, got up. It surprised me that I could use my legs and arms like it was a normal thing; guess it was like learning to ride a bike: once you get it, you never forget it... not even after hundreds of years.
Yeah, I died. And my physical body was left to root in a coffin, but my mind, my soul, became something else. It got liberated from the physical world, and I became what the living would call a ghost.
Some would be happy if they found out there was life -or, let's say, existence- after death, but to me it was a curse, a cruel joke. I mean, after years of depression and axiety, after watching every day of the damn week pass in loneliness, I just wanted to rest for good, and from everything.
Many would say I was weak. Now, I'm not gonna deny that, but it is also truth that life just didn't give me a break. My parents died young, my personality made my few friends become strangers, and my desire of becoming a writer drowned as fast as my will of living. Soon enough, I obtained the biggest achievement of my life: becoming one of the few "Suicide"-tagged police cases in my city.
But, at least, my experience as a ghost didn't last much aswell.
Turns out I had been forgotten. Literally. And that granted me a ticket to the Beyond. And finally, although I somehow kept existing, it made me reach the peace I had been looking for. I can't explain that "place", if I can even call it like that, it goes beyond the human interpretation of things, but, for sure, it was a good place to be.
And now I was back. Back to this damned world.
I deduced someone remembered me, and the fact that I was now in the library of my town meant that it had something to do with my book.
I started to walk through the halfways, leaving thousands of books behind me, just to find the one I had written so long ago, the only one with my name printed on the cover.
After a few minutes, I found it. It was being read by a young blonde guy, comfortably sitting in one of the chairs of the hall.
Great. Like if I didn't hate that book enough, now I had to watch how it made the hatred grow inside that guy too.
At least it wouldn't take too long.
I sat on the floor, impatient.
That damn book. It made me wish I had burned it instead of publishing it, hoping it would achieve something. I remember the day I wrote the last word of the story, alone in my house, and the only thing that came to my mind was "This. Is. Bullshit.", even after the corrections. And still, I published it. A desperate attempt of becoming something. After a few weeks, I gave up completely, knowing it wouldn't. I didn't write anymore. I just wanted to be forgotten, to die and be in peace, to rest from my own toughts, and...
He smiled.
He smiled while reading the book.
But it wasn't a "Look how bad this is" kind of smile... He was enjoying it.
I stared at him, shocked, while he read the whole book, anxious about knowing what the story would tell the next pages. Then he proceeded to give it back to the employee, and went away.
I couldn't believe it.
Something grew on me. I didn't know what it was, but it sure felt good. And that new sensation made me remember... remember how I enjoyed writing it, specially some parts I had planned from the start, how I made the characters struggle and then reaching solutions... I remembered all that, that died over time and got covered by one awful opinion, which read "This. Is. Bullshit."
I followed the employee while he put my book back on the big shelf, compacted by the other ones.
And I just sat there, waiting for the next reader.
Sometimes self-criticism kills. And depression sure doesn't make things any easier. But a bit of external taste, of the other's opinion, may help the inner pessimistic to calm down, to not let himself fall with every stumble, but to try harder; it may help him to not become a killer, but to remain in the real world as a living person, strong and passioned.
Sometimes one learns lessons too late.
And sometimes, being more specific, one remembers why he did what he did, and remains sitting on the floor of a library, patiently, waiting for another reader to come and give him what could be definetly called: the peace one had always been looking for.
----------------------------------------------------
Not an actual english speaker, so sorry if there are dumb errors! | We get to watch those who are still living.
It's one of the privileges of being dead.
Anytime someone got close to bringing me back, I watched to see what would happen.
So it was that I found myself one day, watching in fear as a young woman rifled through piles of old, dusty books. I knew just how dangerously close she was to finding the one thing that might force me back to Earth to wander aimlessly until I was once again forgotten.
She found at last a book that caught her interest. It was titled *Obituaries for Heltonville, IN: 2025 - 2075*. Her face alight, she opened the book gleefully. She turned to the index and found the surname she sought: Gleeson.
She turned the book to page 394, where she found the following listing for Thomas Gleeson:
Gleeson, Thomas Alvin
Born: May 1, 1998
Died: September 4, 2049
Cause of Death: Suicide
Survived By:
- Wife: Gleeson, Cheryl Elizabeth (1999 - 2068)
- Son: Gleeson, Thomas Alvin Jr. (2024 - )
- Son: Gleeson, George Alexander (2026 - )
- Daughter: Winchester, Alison Claire (2028 - )
- Sister: Alistair, Clara Jane (1995 - 2052)
- Brother: Gleeson, William Charles (1999 - 2052)
- Brother: Name Withheld (1990 - )
Preceded By:
- Father: Gleeson, Frank Clayton (1927)
- Mother: Gleeson, Georgina Alexa (1942)
*Suicide!* I had done such a great job of covering my tracks that the coroner never had any doubt that my brother had killed himself. He was wrong.
I pulled some strings to keep my name off the record, so all that was recorded was "Name Withheld". If she checked the other records, she would find that my brother and sister both also died of a "murder-suicide" a few years later and that they, too, were survived by a brother whose name was withheld.
The young woman copied took a picture of the record with her phone, and it entered the information into her genealogy database.
"Alison Claire Winchester!" she exclaimed into the dusty air of the genealogy center basement. "That's my great great great grandmother! Now that I've confirmed that Thomas Gleeson was her father, I can move back even further in my search."
She began flipping quickly through the book, going to 1927, the year my father had died. She flipped to far, so she flipped back to the index, but landed instead on a page in 1975. A name caught her interest. Another Gleeson. One that was not included in the listing for Thomas Gleeson. She read the name, aloud, for some reason.
Benjamin Christopher Gleeson
And now, here I am, back on Earth. As long as someone remembers you, you're supposed to walk with them, guide them, protect them, look out for them.
Not me.
I'm going back to the afterlife.
I'm going to kill my descendant.
***
EDIT: Fixed a date.
EDIT 2: Fixed another date. I'm bad at this, apparently. | 2016-07-11T12:23:15 | 2016-07-11T12:05:42 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] You are a B-list superhero on the verge of losing your job. During a battle with a villain, you accidentally end up killing one of the most prolific superheros of your time. That's when you realize that with your niché power that was useless as a hero, you could be an A-list supervillain. | A weighted conscience never seemed to bother villains. Many of them accepted their deeds as bad, or are so consumed with this false idea of heroism that guilt isn't even a factor in their minds. Which leaves me, Temperance, in an awfully tricky situation. I mean, truthfully, what can I do to someone who doesn't feel guilt? Of all these mystical, physics-defying gods among men here all *I* can do is make you feel bad about the one time you forgot to feed the family dog when you were seven. Absolutely bloody useless... or, so I thought.
The day started innocently enough, a run-of-the-mill thug leader perfect for "lesser" heroes like myself was in the middle of a bank robbery. Hero scenario number one, right there. Me, attempting desperately to find some rightfully-earned respect and attention, rushed the scene. Police were on the scene already, attempting negotiations to middling success at best. Who better than me, Temperance, to get them to stand down? Finally, a chance to shine!
But the hero business is oh-so awfully competitive. Before I can even enter the bank and confront the robbers, a damn A-Lister crashes through the bloody ceiling and proceeds to apply what I and legal officials would call "excessive use of force" onto the poor bastards. Lord almighty do I wish I could unsee that. Single punches enough to cave in their skulls, while innocents are crushed under rubble.
Who wouldn't be furious seeing such a sight? Let alone that cocky, pearly white grin of his... Though I guess I couldn't contain myself. With one look into my eyes, I could see his expression shift, as he looked once over at all the destruction he caused in a brief moment. Then distraught set in, as every past action he's taken as a "hero" has caused immense suffering to those around, all the while the media kissed his ass and stroked his ego. In just a few moments, that hero flew off and was never seen again.
And that was the day I ditched the name Temperance. The power of one's sins crawling on them like spiders was not suited for heroism, but if it was the attention I wanted, then I could make a new name for myself. This name would not go forgotten, this name will strike fear into those so-called heroes... and that name was Guilt Trip. | As Saitama crumpled to the ground the shock of being hurt let alone mortally wounded began to set in. People looked on in shock and horror as the life faded away from Saitama's eyes. A momentary silence in as Mumen Rider relaizes what he had done. He never knew the power of his Justice Crash as it was so ineffective in the past. The suddenly realization his power was greater than he ever imagined when used for evil. An evil smirk slowly formed. He could never see himself as a B-class hero but the promise of being a Dragon level villian was too great to pass up. Using his Evil Punch and Evil Kick he killed several cilivans fleeing the scene. He needed to return to his dorm room and decide how to use his new level of powers and how far he would go with no heroes left that could possibly challenge him. | 2021-04-14T08:21:47 | 2021-04-14T06:21:06 | 39 | 29 |
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