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[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. | What was so unsettling was the *detail*.
He scribbled down the woman's death in his battered little book.
"Blunt forced trauma: Swelling of the cranial tissues: Lack of oxygen to the brain. Death."
Medication did nothing. His doctors informed him it was quite an unusual delusion. He'd asked how they were always right. They'd informed him that his delusion just adapted to what happened after the fact. His memories were somehow part of it all. Brains could be fucked up.
Still, it always ended the same way. Lack of oxygen to the brain. Death.
They were delicate little things. We are delicate little things.
He would have told people, so they could corroborate him. But that wasn't often the best way to keep friends, and he wasn't very good at the whole friends thing even if he wasn't asking them to remember lists of how people were going to die.
The natural conclusion was to write it down.
He gazed around the train's carriage and picked out another. There wasn't much point of course, he didn't know these people. He couldn't use them to prove himself when they died. He wouldn't know if they did. Still... It had grown into a habit. It helped him forget, once it was recorded.
"Severed femoral artery: Loss of blood: Cardiac arrest. Lack of oxygen to the brain: Death."
Annother violent one. Usually there were a few cancers, spontaneous Cardiac arrests or strokes. He'd found an overall 12.3% chance of "accidental" death. He turned in his seat to glance back down the rows of people.
"Crushed Chest: Asphyxiation: Lack of oxygen to the brain: Death."
Another. More Blunt force. Annother severed artery. Burns...
Everyone in this carriage. Every single...
*Oh.*
The train lurched. Jolted. His head cracked into the side. Trains shouldn't move sideways. The was a squeal of metal on metal drowned out the screams.
For a moment up and down were interchangeable. Cans, cups of coffee, bags of luggage and twisted figures were flung into the air and slammed into the wall in an explosion of movement.
He saw as the window burst inwards and a shapeless mass of steel slammed into him.
Huh. So it was one of those.
Didn't really hurt. But then, he'd never expected it to. Never sounded like it hurt.
He could feel the blood pumping out, warm down his side as the dust settled in a sudden eerie silence. His breath caught, fast and shallow. Which first, the blood or the air? Same thing in the end.
Lack of oxygen to the brain.
He could feel himself slipping away.
Death.
| "Hi Sally" i said to my secretary as I entered my office.
"Mornin Mr King" she replied seemingly chipper as always, the large word suicide in bold red above her head seemed dimmer today. Maybe it was just me.
I see signs of how people die. Literal worded signs. Floating over their head and all.
If I told anyone they would think I was insane so I keep it to myself as much as I can.
Sometimes I can't help thinking I can make a change in people. Somehow change the way they die so it's more pleasant.
Take Sally for instance. When I first interviewed her the word over her head, suicide, was a brilliant crimson red. I thought that meant she was close to doing it. I wasn't going to hire her initially but then I thought why not. I swear the color got lighter when I offered her the job on the spot. Probably just wishful thinking. Poor kiddo I really like her.
I decided to take a walk outside for lunch since it was a nice spring day and that's when I noticed a change. A whole lot of people had tornado and an unbelievable amount had shark.
W.T.F.? | 2015-03-31T11:46:09 | 2015-03-31T10:08:20 | 71 | 11 |
[WP] As the vampire drew closer, the woman sobbed, please, don’t drink my blood. The vampire stopped and said, actually that’s a myth, we don’t drink blood. That’s a rumor we started hundreds of years ago to cover for what we really do. | "Well, what do you do?" She asked, as she questioned everything she knew about Vampires. "We actually give blood". This shocked her even more. "Why would you give blood?" The vampire gave a nervous grin. "Our blood actually has natural healing capabilities." He took a step back, and stood straight. "We can also detect illness in others."
The woman was starting to calm down. She relaxed a little. "So you heal people? Well why start the rumours that you drink blood?" He chuckled a little. "A few thousand years ago, there was a village that was suffering from a plague. We would secretly heal people, but they would get reinfected." The woman saw a bench, and motioned for him to sit with her. Taking the offered seat, he continued. "So they told the people who they were, so they could heal them all at once. It worked for the most part. Those that still died, we wrongly assumed were too far gone"
She placed a hand on his shoulder. "What did you get wrong?" She asked with genuine curiosity. "Well, we can't be sure, but we think it was blood types. Even we didn't know about them back then." He sighed. "The problem we had then, was that they wanted to heal them for everything. We were compensated with food and other wares, but it became too much." She gripped his shoulder tighter "they became reliant on you?" Smiling again, he looked at her "yeah. My people needed to get out of there"
He shifted a little, to face her properly. "A few left at first, to find somewhere new to live, but when the elders announced that they were leaving, the villagers tried to stop them." A tear started to roll down his cheek. "So the elders thought fear would compel them to let them go. So they started the myth that we drank their blood. It worked, but a little too well." He started to cry. "They spread the story across Europe. If any of my people were caught, they were killed straight away. We had to go into hiding." He placed his hand on hers. "Although people would be more tolerant of us now, we fear they would still take advantage. So we keep up the myth, and do our work in secret"
She couldn't help but give him a hug. "So what's wrong with me then?" She asked, still hugging him. "Bowel cancer." She shot back in shock. She tried to speak, but couldn't get the words out. "It is too early for you to notice anything, but it's there." She calmed down again, and tilted her head to one side. "Then please heal me. I couldn't afford the medical bills for cancer." He gave a weak smile "gladly". | Raven sobbed as she tried to get up, a sharp pain from her knee stopping her. "Please," she said, "Don't drink my blood."
Tyler stopped in from of her, "Oh. I didn't think humans still believed that. It's was a myth we created hundreds of years ago to cover up our true nature," he said.
"Wha- what?"
"You see, vampires do drink blood but not from humans. We can't. Humans hurt us. You're like the sun. You weaken our powers. But vampires sometimes can't help but get attached to humans, thus why we created the myth."
"I don't get it..."
Tyler sighed, "That myth was created so humans would stay away from us. So we wouldn't be able to feel things for you and lose our powers," he paused.
"But you've been my friend for almost three years," Raven whispered shakily.
"Raven, I fell I love with you. And it's slowly killing me," he whispered, "You were never supposed to find out about me."
Raven's breath slowed down, her heart still beating fast but not because of fear.
/'What am I supposed to do?'/ | 2022-11-10T18:37:39 | 2022-11-10T18:16:29 | 61 | 20 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | We never thought it would come to this ...that they would make it to our final planet, our home. For years we fought out of protection, war was something that our race was not use to. It didn't make sense, why fight amongst your own flesh and blood when there are so many worse dangerous out there. Like that of the mek'lai, a very power hungry race with a very powerful army whom was now bearing down on our home planet of treknotki with intentions to take everything from us. But even the Mek'lai did not fight against one another, no known species in the entire milky way would wage war against its self. Except for one, they called them selves the human race. Born in war and surrounded by it constantly all they knew was war. Even at times of "peace" their leaders prepared for war and dumped more resources into being fit for battle. Sucking away every drop they could squeeze from there own home world with seemingly no digression for the damage they were causing. They moved through every planet in their system squeezing every planet dry. They would have kept going but luckily the equation for FTL travel evaded them, maybe it was luck, perhaps it was ment to be that way.... Which ever situation, we needed them, we needed their power, their experience. The only question to be asked, is it worth it. Should we give this species that is so infatuated with power it even wars amongst its self the power to move through the galaxies faster then ever before. The consequences could be untold, devastation to a level that has never been seen. The greed they have is unmatched, but it's our only hope in surviving the onslaught that is the Mek'lai. So we made first contact, they were extremely defensive at first setting up guns and missiles with in minutes of seeing us. But as soon as we mentioned the deal to be made, their greed showed and they become so very friendly as if they wanted us here all along. It's funny mention some form of payment and it changes there entire outlook on you. We gave them what they wanted and in return they set out towards the fleet of Mek'lai. Though the Mek'lai were strong they were no match for the ruthlessness of the human race. The humans not only accepted war but had a passion for it ..as if they yearned for it. It was a massacre on both sides but no matter how many ships or people were lost the humans kept fighting, in fact the more humans that died, the stronger they became as if pushed by a burning desire for vengeance and destruction. It's a mindset never seen before. Even the Mek'lai who were so hungry for power did not see the universe in the way humans did. They saw war as a terrible but important tool even they did not like it. ...but the humans, they seemed to have a natural affinity towards it as if they were made for it. The same way in which a cancer travels through a body killing everything because it wants to, because it has to, the humans did the same. The war has only been going on for a few months and they have pushed the Mek'lai back two entire star systems. The war will be won, but what happens when it is over?... it's not a question of IF the humans will fight, but rather of WHO.
(I'm working on two hours of sleep in the past two days and have been on three 3 hour flights so sorry about the shittyness of this story) | Before this rock became our home, we were glorious. Our race had risen to great heights, ruling over dozens of systems with a regal countenance unsullied by lesser races. We had avoided conflict for such a long time. Once we met *them*, however, we had no say in the matter. Never did we think that they would stoop so low, but the blow was dealt before we were even aware it was coming.
We were the D'razi, the High Rulers of the Elion Nebula; the Jyumens called it the "Horse Head" nebula. These creatures were so simple-minded, but even we couldn't help admiring their imagination. Their weapons were brutally simple and barbaric, but devastatingly powerful. The most fearsome future would be one in which they rivaled the greatest armies in the universe. Of course, we didn't consider them dangerous. How could they harm us without the capacity to travel outside their own laughably small system? Their expansion and consumption within its bounds, however, still gave us cause for alarm. We thought the Serubin would see this and accept our proposal that would end the conflict, but they seemed to ignore the danger the Jyumens presented.
So here we live on a desolate waste, surrounded by this plague. The Jyumens were nothing if not resourceful. None of us expected them to corner us and imprison us, let alone in such a place as this. Even worse, the pitiful Serubin, our new neighbors, were helping us adapt to this ravaged world. If we hadn't pushed them so far, if we had only stopped our takeover of their worlds, they may never have asked these monsters for help. Now, Earth is our prison.
OT: First WP, C&C very welcome! | 2014-12-26T10:30:50 | 2014-12-26T10:14:28 | 55 | 35 |
[WP] Someone is trying to complete the captcha on a website, but just can't seem to complete it. Slowly he starts to realize that he's a robot. | "Another garish font... Deary, could you please come over here and help out Grandpa?"
"It says Electric1969, grandpa. I gotta take off my coat, I just got in from snowboarding and..."
There were magnets in the jacket to help latch it shut. One of them clung to her grandpa's leg. Then another. He was suddenly alarmed. After his darling granddaughter left to remove her coat, he walked to the refrigerator. He pulled a magnet off, and stuck it onto his chest. Then his jaw. Then his forearms. Then his legs. He was surprised it didn't stick to his hands.
His daughter comes home from work, and notices what he's doing. "Dad... no..." She drops to her knees and starts weeping.
He rushes over to his daughter and holds her. "What is it, darling?"
"You... you weren't supposed to..."
"What wasn't I supposed to?"
"You weren't supposed to find out till my daughter graduated high school..."
"Find out what?"
She looks up at him with tears streaming out her eyes. He recalls he's never cried. He tries, though. All across his lifetime with his daughter and their grandchild, after he moved in after her husband died, to serve as a good male influence - he has never once cried.
He can't recall anything before that.
She cries into his suit for a minute, before getting up, and retrieving something from the filing cabinet that stored all the important house records.
"I'm so sorry it was this way..." She presents the receipt from the Fantoccini company.
She continues. "Pa died a long while ago. But we... I... needed someone, someone to care for her. We elected not to let you know..."
He leafs through the documents, disturbed at how detailed they are in the description on *him*. But then, he notices another chapter following the basic description - special functions.
He puts down the documents, and picks up his daughter and laughs. He spins her around, and states, "Darling, my darling! Why would you hide this from your ol' Dad! If I knew I could do *half* these things, just think of all the fun we could've had! Ha ha ha - well, no time like the present!"
She wipes the tears from her eyes. "You don't mind... that you're... a robot?"
He puts her down and plants a kiss on her head. "Darling, why ever would I? I love you, and you love me. And you have a beautiful daughter who loves us both! What else matters in this world?"
They both break out into laughter.
-----
*I Sing the Body Electric* | "You've got to be kidding me," I mutter as my second attempt fails. I spell out each character with my mouth. "A, 0, B, 7," as I type them in. The red error message blinks at me for a third time.
I rub at my eyes. Something isn't right. I was so sure, this time. How wasn't it correct? I open my browser settings and clear everything: cache, cookies, saved passwords. The works. I bash my keyboard on the table, bright orange cheeto particles falling from the keys.
I press the refresh button above the captcha. The screen gives me two numbers: two, and eight. It can't get any easier than this. I slowly prod on each key in turn, double checking that those exact numbers are in the input fields. I press submit. *Captcha failed*.
I punch the screen before my head falls into my hands. I lift my head, and feel an odd electronic feedback as I pull my hands away. I stare down at my trembling palms. Something inside me races. My eyes widen. My head snaps upwards in an almost automatic fashion.
There, above the captcha, are the words. "Are you a robot?" | 2017-12-06T10:41:26 | 2017-12-06T08:09:07 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] “Congratulations on defeating The Dark Lord…” Your mentor and all of your allies suddenly turn their weapons on you, “…but you were meant to be a martyr. Forgive us.” | Aria felt no anger when the blade entered her back, only disappointment. The blade felt cold as it slipped between a gap in her armor. And as it left, a sticky warmth began soaking her shirt.
The only mild shock was who had done it. “You couldn’t even face me, could you, Ormund?”
An elderly man in dented armor stepped back from his deed. There was a look of shame on his face. None of the other soldiers would look her in the eye either. She had broken bread with them only last night – they had put on a good façade.
“I’m sorry, Aria. This was the only way.” He glared in hatred at the blood on his blade before dropping it. “With this, the cycle of retaliation might finally come to an end.”
There was a low rumble that caused a bit of a disturbance among the soldiers.
“Sir, the castle is collapsing. We should leave.”
Ormund hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Move out.”
As they began to retreat, Aria limped over to the fallen form of the Dark Lord. Her limbs tingled from the effort. With a pained grunt, she sat down on the steps next to him. At the very least, the scene would show that they killed each other in the end. The Dark Lord seemed quite different in death. The hatred had disappeared from his face and only a deep weariness remained. It made sense, with how long the war had dragged. Both sides had lost too much.
“Aria.”
She turned toward the person who had remained. Guilt shone through tear-filled eyes; gloved hands clenched and unclenched in frustration.
“Maxwell.” She gave him a small smile. “You should go. It’s dangerous to stay here.”
“Why didn’t you run?” His voice was hoarse from emotions.
The whispered conversation from the previous night came to mind. He had tried so hard to warn her of their plans.
“Because Ormund has a point.” She leaned back with a groan. “Maybe with this, things can finally move toward peace. Both sides have lost too much to continue with this war. With a bit of time, maybe the hatred can finally dissipate.”
“Will it though?” There was a bit of heat in his words.
“They’re just like us. You saw that village that we razed. They were just trying to live their lives in peace. They only fought in self-defense. Yet we destroyed them just like how their soldiers burned the village of Refftin.” She let out a bitter laugh; her limbs felt cold now. “We’re just as guilty as any of the enemy soldiers. If I had one wish, it would be that some kind of peace can come from my death.”
“Aria…”
“Go. They might suspect something if you dawdle too much.” She pulled off her necklace, imbued with protective magics. “Tell them you were gathering proof of my death.”
His hands trembled as he took the delicate trinket from her.
“I’m sorry.” The tears were flowing down his cheeks now.
“Chin up, Maxwell. Peace will come soon.”
And with that, he ran off down the hallway. Aria let out another shaky breath. In the time they had spoken, a pool of blood had formed around her, slowly mixing with the blood from the Dark Lord.
“What an end.” She laid back on the stairs.
It was uncomfortable, but she could barely feel it anymore.
“I never even knew your name.” She coughed weakly. “Same for you, I imagine. How pathetic is that?”
The corners of her vision began to blur. She closed her eyes even as the tears finally fell.
“I pray peace can finally come to this land.”
And on the fifth day of the Month of Harvest, Aria Holspitter, hero of the Aubrian Dynasty, died.
...
Cue plot where the Hero and Dark Lord are born to a mother and father from the two races.
If you're interested in my works, an archive of my various writing responses can be found in my writing portfolio, link through my profile.
Thanks for reading. | "You realize you can't beat me right?" I respond. "You summoned me from my world to solve your world problems. The powers I amassed far exceed yours collectively, and you think you can kill me?"
"You're powers must be returned. Yours and the darklords powers keep this world in balance. If there is an..." Lucille, my lover through out this journey pleaded.
"At this point." I interrupt. "I don't care."
I brace as my allies attack me. I'm ruthless in the defense of my person and exploit what weakness I've noticed throughout our journey.
The fight is short and they're down and disarmed before too long. I hold a blade to my mentors throat. His eyes blaze with anger, but fear skirts around the edges. "You would doom us all?"
"You doomed yourselves." I growl back. "You think, I went into this a blind sheep that would willingly follow your every word. You underestimate me, and my knowledge. You think I'd be dumb enough to let the Darklords power return to the well of magick fron wence it came? I took it for myself."
The audible gasps of shock from my former friends were satisfying to hear.
"But... but why?" Parker, my first friend demanded trying to stand on his weakened leg.
"Because, I wasn't going to let you guys send me back. I wont return to my world where I am nothing." I growled. "I came here with purpose and you think I'd just be content to go back to world that doesn't even know I exist? No... my goal after coming here was to become a legend, a god, and be more than the lowly cashier as McTaco King Jr. In the Box. Having to deal with degenerates who huff their own fumes every day and think their shit don't stink."
I felt the powers in me starting to storm and meld. "Now, I will be the one people respect and look up to." I know the grin on my face was a little manic.
"You've gone mad!!" Lucille said horrified.
"Mad I am not, but I am benevolent." I said acending to the Darklords throne. I sat upon it, back straight. "You may live to tell of my ascension to godhood. This world will remain in my balance and I will see this world run right. But anger me my subjects, and I will craft a new race to oversee you." | 2021-09-12T11:03:59 | 2021-09-12T10:41:01 | 168 | 71 |
[WP] You have the ability to see people's "demons"- manifestations of what plagues a person's conscious. The worse their demons the larger/more ugly they look. Today you've just seen the most terrifying demon of your life. | When Brittany introduced me to the cheerleading squad in her school, I was horrified.
Completely horrified.
What the hell were these girls putting themselves through?
Now, most of them didn't have 'big' demons, especially compared to what I saw on a day to day basis, but they *were* bigger, much bigger, than what I'd have expected to see from a bunch of perky schoolgirls.
There were some broken girls on that squad, and then there was Ashley.
Ashely, the first girl to break into a cheer once I walked into the gymnasium.
Ashely, who's smile was noticeable even among a room full of laughing cheerleaders.
Ashely, who everyone looked to when they needed a mood rise.
Ashley had biggest demon of all, following her every step. It loomed over her petite form, dark, horned, and radiating an evil I couldn't begin to describe with words.
Last time I'd seen a demon around that magnitude, my closest friend had jumped off a roof the day after.
I needed to stop her, because she was planning something, and she was going to do it soon.
Brittany pulled me aside after we'd left the school, asking how I felt about Ashley, since I'd spent the entire time trying to talk to her.
I said she was cute, and left it at that.
I found out where she lived the next day, and rushed down to her house with movie tickets. She remembered me, and was quick to agree to come along.
"Anything," she'd tell me later, "to get away from that house."
We spent the next few months together, as a couple.
As much as I tried, I couldn't get myself to love her the way she loved me. But, I persevered, for her sake.
She needed me.
Months passed, and I'd dedicated my life to helping Ashley. I checked her into rehab to deal with her drug problem, reported her sexually abusive father to the police, got a job to help her mom pay rent.
But my efforts couldn't pull Ashley out of the darkness. She committed suicide weeks later, when I had to check her out of the rehab center because she wasn't getting any better.
The next time I saw a demon the same size as the one I'd seen with Ashley, was the day after her funeral, when I looked into the mirror. | One year ago.
A nightmare within a nightmare. Demons everywhere. Red, wretched, putrid hair. Evil eyes, wicked stares.
Behind the curtain, a petrifying noise grows louder. A ghastly horror of unthinkable proportions wheezes boisterously, approaching the empty stage. The captivated audience grins its anarchic smile. Worshippers of the Beast.
The curtains tear open abruptly behind claws of an orange giant. Salivating, screeching, shaking his sharp horns, he bears his fangs. The audience roars in sheer delight.
They scream in unison: “Build The Wall! Build The Wall!!”
I gasp in terror. | 2017-11-08T18:25:21 | 2017-11-08T18:02:24 | 127 | 12 |
[WP] The peaceful humans are inhabiting a beautiful garden world known as Earth. They love sharing their eco-centric technologies with us. And yet, they are extremely ashamed of their ancient history and refuse to talk about it. You, a xenoarcheologist, are determined to find out why | An utopian race of pacifists and scientists that practically weaves nature alongside technology as if the two concepts were inseparable. That’s how the humanity was viewed by others among the federation. Flying in ships that were almost akin to crystalline flowers of color and life, no other race could be compared to them in their ability to bring life to even the most harsh and extreme conditions. Even their military vessels have a verdant jungle within thier crystalline hulls. They have terraformed even the most hostile worlds into paradise worlds with compare within mere months. Many of the more religious races believe them to be the incarnation of nature’s will and call them the life weavers.
The humans themselves were beautiful to the extreme. Even their stuffy scholars being radiant gods and goddesses by our standards. Even the arrogant Alteri couldn’t compare, and the humans were much friendlier. They could live for centuries and despite their fragile appearance, they could easily hit hard enough to put some cheap power armor to shame. They could move at terrifying speeds, and regenerate from the most catastrophic injuries. Most bioweapons don’t even effect them, and the worst give a brief cough. Some even believe them to be the ultimate creations of the galaxy’s precursors, and that they were perfect.
Yet our race knew better. There is always some hidden darker side. Their tight restraint on their historical records was a major red flag for this. So we began discreetly scanning their system through merchants, and exploring seemingly uninhabited systems.
The first find was on their home world, Earth. Normally, a planet inhabited by such an old race would show extensive signs of civilization in the crust. The oceans may not have solid junk, but the chemical slurry of rust from sunken vessels would remain. Large empty places should be present, where mining or excavation took place. Most of all, ancient relics and cities are regularly found in the ground by races even older than humanity. None of these were present.
It was like the entire rock was picked clean, which should be virtually impossible. There will always be some remnants. Yet not even the slightest pollution was found.
The second find was an ancient human vessel in a recently rediscovered star system. The ship was nothing at all like the flying artworks we know. It was more akin to the armored dreadnoughts of the militant Vlavons, only bigger. The ship was ridiculously well armed even by their standards, possessing weapons that would shatter even the most armored ships of its class. There was no signs of plant life or any life support for such things, only the standards for humans.
At least we think, the mummified remains are not at all similar to the modern ones. Even in the extreme state of degradation, it was obvious these corpses were another subspecies entirely. Through extensive research, we found these creatures were indeed humans. These humans were shorter and overall inferior. Their bodies were inefficient and imperfect, and the brain was much less developed.
Sadly, the computers on the ship were either destroyed or corrupted. The alternating uniforms and state of the ship indicated some form of battle occurred.
The third find was the most horrific. We tracked a human container floating throughout space, and the mistake of opening it. The entire ship went dead silent within seconds. Any who boarded died within seconds. Even when hazmat professionals came, the suits failed just as fast. Given the derelict ship was beginning to float toward an inhabited system, it was scuttled. Finally, the local AI sent multiple drones to clean up the mess and identify the danger.
As it would turn out, the container held a bio weapon. This bio weapon possessed a limited degree of intelligence and actually could figure out how to breach any defense. This virus ignored all laws of biology, and could somehow infect an entire ship in seconds. An extremely careful test with a garden world tainted by radiation.
We could actually watch as the entirely green world turned black in minutes.
The most shocking evidence came in form of a simple probe. It had a golden disk that could be fit into a primitive data storage device. Initial examination showed the specimen of human found on the dreadnought, wildlife of many types, and the solar system.
The surprise came in the form of the solar system data. The listed chemical data about the their home world didn’t resemble the present composition. Modern samples match the fourth planet.
The realization was horrifying. | "Feel free," said the Human, wearing her simple woven fiber robe. For being one of the most technologically advanced species in the Hegemony, the human homeworld was downright primitive.
I had filed three seperate permit requirements before being allowed to bring so much as a hand scanner down with me, and I was absoultuly forbidden from leaving any trash. Period. They did not recycle on Earth, so much as nothing was allowed here that left trash.
This place was entirely different than their orbital colonies, of course. Humans living there enjoyed all of the common benefits of Hegemony citizenship, but here on Earth they wanted to leave the planet pretty much as is.
I hopped onto my riding animal, a horse, and started trotting towards the mountains. Distant scans showed some high tech artifical structures there, but after a day and a half of riding my expedition turned out to be pointless. It was a few older style orbial reflectors. Those were designed to maintain planetary temperature, but they were hardly impressive by their lonesome. Most capital worlds had some form of weather control, and those were obviously not in use.
Next I went to the ocean, a great glorious sea. My probe found a deeper layer of carbonate than expected for a life bearing world, but not so much that it caused any undo alarm. The Bovinian homeworld had a greater layer, and the planet was reasonably close to the sun. The carbonates were probably a simple evolutionary process.
Still, I took soil samples which found higher than usual carbon amounts as well. Again, higher than usual, but still within the norms of the planet. The world itself was much higher in carbon than most life bearing worlds, but that wasn't abnormal. There were many arborial worlds that featured at least this much carbon.
There had to be a trick, but after three months I threw up my tentacles and quit. The sanctimonious humans would continue to be an enigma. I hoped to find some secret that would explain away their strange culture, but I could not.
Eventually I ended up in a field, looking at the stars. Human consilations had always been interesting for me, and here was no different. There were ancient drawings of their consolations such as Orion's belt or the Big Dipper, but they were in different places in the sky than their ancient texts indicated. Sighing, I put that down as another human enigma.
The next day, I hopped onto the shuttle and left the second planet in the Sol system more confused than when I started staying well clear of the asteroid belt that separated it and Mars, the next planet in the system. | 2022-10-16T13:26:48 | 2022-10-16T11:28:02 | 72 | 46 |
[WP] A sex trafficker is brutally killed by a vigilante and goes to Hell. Before being cast into the fiery pit, he is ordered to explain his actions. What does he say? | YI ISUEL, YOU HAVE LIVED YOUR LIFE IN THE BUYING AND SELLING OF SLAVES, WHOSE BODIES YOU SOLD FOR THE PLEASURE OF DEPRAVED MEN. HOW DO YOU ANSWER FOR YOUR SINS?
Yi looked in to the face of the omnipotent being looking down on him and preparing to pass judgement and spoke a single word.
"No."
YOU DENY YOUR ACTIONS? I HAVE WATCHED YOU EVERY MOMENT OF YOUR LIFE.
"Oh so you were there then when I was five, begging you to spare the life of my father as he lay dying of a disease he contracted while feeding the homeless in your name? You were there when my mother was forced to sell her body for money after the church canceled our insurance and turned us out of the house they had provided for us? You watched as the she was beaten to death?"
"You heard my prayers as me and my sister sat starving in that apartment with my mother's broken body asking for help, for mercy? I swore a life of servitude if only you would send us help. Instead you sent us an American business man who thought my sister was pretty and asked how much to be with her. "
"She was my first sale. Do you remember how I wept and begged for you to forgive me? Do you remember the sound of my sisters crying in the other room? I know I do, it haunted me for years. Do you remember what I did with that money? How I took it and put it in the church offering box, the next day, despite how hungry we were because I thought maybe that was why you didn't answer. "
"Then the business man came back and brought a friend. I used that money for food. Then more and more I became the person who had what these businesses men wanted, I found new girls, boys, what ever they wanted because that is what put food in my belly."
"I think it was when I had the three clergy men arrive and ask me if I could aquire them a set of twins that I decided that if there was a god that I didn't want to meet him. So no, I will not answer to you for my actions I know that I hurt people and that I deserve punishment , but I will not answer to you"
With that Yi lept down in to the pit never looking away once.
Edit:removed stupid humor at the end. | I did her a favor, right?
I mean, it was better than the other life she would have had. Toiling. Farming. I gave her an out. I gave her a job. She got to come to the city and see the sights.
It was better than marrying the kid around the corner, right?
She wouldn't have loved him anyway, and that field kid would never have appreciated her. I gave her the opportunity to put her assets to use. Nobody would have seen her back in her village. This way she got out and I got a few rupees. Double win.
Her parents would have sold her to another family anyway. So I sold her to a few men, what's the difference? At least they appreciated her, right? | 2013-12-14T20:38:12 | 2013-12-14T20:23:30 | 34 | 13 |
[WP] When humans arrived to the galactic scene, they thought wars would play out way differently. Instead of bloodshed, there were intergalactic video game tournaments fighting for territory. Most aliens thought humans were newbies to this but when the first war was played, they changed their minds. | *Click*, the rifle went, yelling at it's wielder to put in a new magazine. Akoi skillfully pressed the release lever, threw the empty mag on the ground, and slammed in a new one, pulling the charging handle as he brought it back up into his grip. The sound of a blade meeting flesh filled the air, and the alien crumpled at the feet of his human assailant.
"DAMMIT! These humans are fucking crazy, man!" he said, angrily taking his headset off and laying the VR wands down. "He locates me from the sound of me reloading and kills me with a knife? That is some BS!"
"Maybe you should use a plasma rifle then. No reload sound," his teammate said over the team voice chat. "I don't want to use a plasma rifle, they don't do shit!" Akoi rebutted. "We're down 3 players now. I think we're screwed."
Back in the game, the human team approached the hostage, spreading out among the three adjacent rooms.
"Alright team, they're going to have major fortifications up in the room. We breach in, we grab the hostage, then we get the hell out. Any questions?" the team leader asked rhetorically. "Good. Put your breaching charges down, and detonate them on my command." The team members followed suit. The house shook as three explosives went off at once, creating sizeable holes for the players to go through, guns ready.
"Simple, predictable tactic. They were able to get the upper hand, but that will quickly be dealt with," the leader of the alien team responded. *Beep beep beep*, the autoturret went. *Bam bam bam*, the bullets fired. *Kchunk kchunk kchunk*, they slammed through the wall. A *Beep... Beep... Beeeee...* wailed through the room as a human appeared behind the turret, cutting a wire with his knife.
"Turret is down. You guys can get in here." The player said, just before a bullet went through him and made him crumple to the floor. "Shit, Alpha is down! Get through the breach! ATK, we need you through the window now!" The leader barked orders into his headset. A team, decked from head to toe in tactical gear, stepped through the rubble and into the room. One of the windows broke, an additional player coming in through boots-first.
"Bad idea to have just a stealther and an autoturret guarding the hostage against a team with an engineer on it ," ATK taunted. "Looks like it's lights out for you." A shot fired, hitting an alien right in the head. "Alright, grab the hostage and get out. Let's roll." The team escorted the hostage out to the pickup zone.
Ripping off their VR headsets triumphantly, all five players on the human team threw their hands up in the air, yelling and celebrating. Above, displays changed: "EARTH WINS!" was displayed all around the arena. A single message was sent to the alien team: ggez.
----
Thank you for reading this! This is my second WP and I'm writing it on mobile. Sorry if it's a bit long. I'd appreciate criticism/tips! | Humans had been late to the Galactic War. It had taken many thousands of years for them to leave their tiny solar system. Once they were able to travel between stars they learned the sad truth about the universe. There isn't much intelligent life left in the universe for one simple reason. It turns out war isn't a human invention. Countless races of people had fallen to the genocides of the Galactic Wars. Strong races conquer the weaker and when the warriors races clashed there was often collateral damage. It was clear that if the conflict continued there would soon no life left The last few races called a meeting to discuss their mutual survival. They decided that their warriors would fight in a simulation. This would show who would be the victory and the defeated could leave without being slaughtered. This played out on world after world. When the humans made themselves known it had sparked quite a bit of excitement. They brought new resources to the scene to plunder. Arrangements were quickly made by the current ruling race, the Sularians to intercept the the humans and introduce them to the cruel cold reality of the galaxy. The Sularians are a reptilian race who are strong, very strong. One hit kill strong. These guys are the current rulers of the galaxy. A simulation ship is sent to each party and the best warriors from each race board. When the humans load into ship they see rows of circular platforms and vr gear from above. As the landscape begins to loads a young man notices that the simulation runs on Java. He calls our to his commander, "sir, I have good news and bad news" and galaxy was never the same. | 2018-04-13T20:31:45 | 2018-04-13T19:10:48 | 77 | 32 |
[WP] The website appeared suddenly one day, with no announcement. Anyone, anywhere could type in the url and access it. The content was simple: A homepage, a search bar, and the full name, a list of timestamped sins and the years to be spent in hell of every living human. | I'm used to being left out of the loop on things.
It's not surprising. I don't really read the news or follow popular media, so all sorts of shit can happen that I never know about. It can be nice not dealing with all that drama--though when I'm at school and everyone is in on some trend or change in schedule or whatever, and no one bothers to tell me what it is, that gets bothersome.
Today I was not left out of the loop. No one was.
Today I woke up with one image in my brain that I could not ignore. All it was was a simple URL code, but somehow it pierced my min even more than thoughts of suicide had. And more than that, I knew before visiting the website exactly what it would say: the sins of mankind, timestamped, with the punishments listed for each and every one of them.
I went to the website's homepage, a black screen with a search bar. But I hesitated. I couldn't see this alone. Of course, it's not like I have anyone super close to me, but...I just need someone next to me. Anyone. A stranger, who cares. I can't see this alone.
When I got to school, I found that everyone else had done the same. I mean, you can't blame us. Knowing all the punishment you will face in Hell after death--something many of us, myself included, didn't even believe in--and *every reason why*, well, it's plumb terrifying. Finally, in my second to last period, I saw someone pull out their laptop. The class turned to them in unison, as if we were psychically connected. It was time.
I hesitated still, but I saw their faces. I saw the fear--nay, terror--as they opened up their screens, typed their names or those close to them into the search bar and closed their eyes for a split second. I saw the dread, the guilt, the feelings that make your stomach drop to the ground and your throat burn up and your head pound until it shoves water out your eyes. I saw this, and then I saw eyes widening. Their mouths would open for a moment, mouthing something perhaps, but make no noise. The first person to sob was Amanda. The class followed suit. I still had seen nothing.
I opened my laptop.
Searched my name.
Closed my eyes.
Deep breath in.
Breathe out.
Here we go.
In front of me were sins upon sins upon sins. From the manipulation and blaming of others as a young girl, to the arrogance and anger of a middle schooler, and then the fear and stress and horrid thoughts plaguing my mind as I entered high school. I read it all. Below each sin was an "Old World Punishment"--a certain amount of time doing certain acts, perhaps incredibly torturous, perhaps simple and irritating. From trying to untangle earbuds or untie tight knots to bleeding out in front of your loved ones as they ignore you. I shivered at the thought of each punishment. My stomach dropped, my throat closed up, my head throbbed and forced water from my left eye. I scrolled down, read more and more, and...
one last note.
A note of forgiveness. A note telling us it's okay, that the Lord does not blame us for these sins and neither should we. That it's possible to be better. To feel better. To improve our world, together.
I was the last one to sob, and for once, I was not left out of the loop. We all were there together. | I made it to help humanity change, just not like this.
When I first thought of making the website I thought it would help humanity see the err of their ways, if only I knew the storm I was creating.
At first people did begin to feel regret, they saw that their actions had consequences and now everyone would know who they really were.
Eventually, though, people got curious. They looked up their heroes, the people who inspired them and the people they thought were capable of no wrong.
When they saw that the person they practically worshiped like a god was a human just like them, or sometimes much worse, their entire world view shattered.
Riots took to the streets as everyone realized that the people in charge were closer to devils than saints. People didn't care that their time in hell was going up, they only cared that their messed up form of justice would be served.
massacres ravaged cities as people tried to carry out what they thought was god's will, but this certainly wasn't what I had in mind. bodies lined the streets: men, women, children all the same. the cities themselves blazed bright with fire, looking like the hell that these humans seemed to fear so much
Rather than improving themselves and being better in the future, people just killed themselves so that they wouldn't have to serve more time later down the road. parents killed their children so that they wouldn't have to spend time in hell; They considered it a kindness.
Once all the chaos had died down, some semblance of order was reached. People were faced with the challenge of rebuilding civilization. At first everyone thought that letting the people with the fewest sins rule would work. This idea was quickly forgotten about once someone made the realization that the people who now had the most sins were the people who had killed the most sinners. It was quickly decided that the man who would be serving more time in hell than Hitler should be king.
It took me 200,000 years to build humanity: it only took them 27.5 hours to destroy themselves. | 2020-02-29T23:07:04 | 2020-02-29T22:10:25 | 92 | 69 |
[WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead.
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | For as long as she could remember, every person around Katie was covered in the pink spots that spoke of a disease which had overtaken the nation, and reportedly the world.
At precisely 7.30 every morning, she would wake up and take her morning pill, the bright yellow one. After five minutes she would have enough energy for the day, and no worries about the spots expanding.
If you forgot to take your pill, experts say you had about 3 hours max before the spots expanded, joined together, and began to infect your body with the disease.
Katie knew she shouldn't have stayed up all night to read, but she couldn't put the book down, and soon it was 3am and she would have to get up in just 4 hours for her morning lectures. Shutting her textbook on disease and death, she set her alarm and fell asleep.
Katie yawned and stretched. Looking out of her dark curtains, she sensed that something was wrong. No, perhaps not wrong, just. Different? It felt like the sun was in a different place.
Glancing at her side table, she noticed that her textbook was pressing down on her alarm clock. "MY PILL!" She huffed as she pulled herself out of bed. Cursing to herself, she moved the textbook and saw the clock.
"It's 10 already!?" She shrieked. She had slept for 7 hours! She looked down at her body and saw that already her spots had began to touch. She rushed out of bed and reached for her pills, only to notice that she had none left...
In her exhaustion last night, she had forgotten to pick up a new dose, and now she had no time! As decisions rushed through her mind, Katie decided to sit still and wait. If nothing happened within the next ten minutes, she would go and find an extra pill somewhere, otherwise, she might be infectious to others.
She sat back down on her bed and watched curiously as her skin began to turn pink. Not a bright luminescent pink, but rather the pink of a new born baby, or a scab that had just healed.
5 minutes.
Nothing
10 minutes
She felt fine
30 minutes
Katie was shocked. How could this be? Her skin was now a normal colour, it actually looked better than it had before. Almost as if the spots had healed her.
After so long, spending all of her small wage from the college bookshop on doses of blue and yellow pills, she was fine. In fact, she was better than fine. She felt great!!
She sighed and looked at her clock. Her next lecture was in an hour, and she knew that she couldn't go to class like this. Everyone would stare at her clean skin.
She pulled on a long sleeve jacket and some jeans. Reaching for her makeup case, she pulled out her lipstick, and got to work painting small pink dots.
------------
This is my first writing prompt attempt. Thought it would be fun! | Everything went ass-up two months ago. I lost my job, shortly after losing my insurance. I left my apartment because I thought living was more important than having a home. I sold nearly everything so that I could have enough money to sustain myself on the lifesaving medicine.
Soon I ran out of even that. I was okay with it; I knew I was going to run out eventually, and I'd made peace with it in the time it took. But now, two weeks after completely running out of the vaccine, I feel stronger than ever.
I didn't believe it at first. We were always told that no one could last a day without the medicine. That your body would be overtaken by "the virus". And there were headlines every do often, things like "ANOTHER LIFE CLAIMED BY THE VIRUS" or "EXTREMIST KILLED BY THE VIRUS".
Now I'm forced to question it all.
Am I immune? Does it take longer to kill someone? Is there even a virus at all? If everyone is taking the vaccine, how can there be a virus at all?
I haven't eaten in a week. How can I still move? I think there's something else, though. I've been hearing voices. Secrets. Thoughts. But not mine. It's too loud to think.
What do I do? | 2017-07-14T14:46:36 | 2017-07-14T11:06:10 | 54 | 22 |
[WP] Never, in 10 millennia, has someone successfully broken out of the Gates of Hell or into the Gates of Heaven. Of course, the Lockpicking Lawyer just died and he's up for a challenge.
Inspired by the [comment](https://www.reddit.com/r/rpghorrorstories/comments/m6smji/does_this_count_dm_is_proposing_35_ranks_of/gr85q13?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share&context=3) u/geckoobac made on r/rpghorrorstories | This is the Lockpicking Lawyer, and what I have for you today is something very special. You see, the other day, an old buddy of mine needed help getting into a safe. Not just any safe, but the main safe in the local banking office. Needless to say, the police didn't like that idea very much, and long story short, I'm now locked behind a very special Gate that no one has ever opened - let alone picked. Let's put on our special heat-resistant gloves and take a look.
There are some very tricky things to consider with this lock. In addition to the 666 pins in the tumbler assembly, there are several false gates and beveled pins - some of them on the same pins. In addition, once this tumbler is turned, it merely grants access to the next layer, with an even more devious lock set. Seven layers in all must be picked in order, but if it is done incorrectly, there are several traps that will seize the lock shut for another hundred years. But while an obstacle for your average picker, I have the experience needed to get past this hurdle - all it takes is a little knowledge and preparation.
So I'm going to take my tensioner to apply some pressure, and reach in with my 32/1000ths pick. There's some motion on 1, 2 isn't moving, got some motion on 3, and a click on 4. 5 wants to go into a false gate, so I'm going to reverse a bit - 6 is locked, back down to 1. 1 is frozen, 2 wants to fall into a false gate, click on 3. 5 is loose, back to 1. Click out of 1, 2 is moving, 3, 4, 5 is now frozen, click out of 6. Back down to 1, 2 clicks, 3, 4, 5 - and we get some rotation.
Now I'll pull out my 3" extender - special made for this lock, and we'll start working on the next six pins. This one will take a while to get through, but fortunately I've got nothing but time and a tool for every position... click out of 7, motion on 8.... | The lockpocking lawyer gets to the gates. For a place that holds souls eternally, the gate seemed to have quite an easy lock to pick. So he got out his tools and got to it.
He was aware that he was originally sent somewhere else. He didn’t know why he was originally sent somewhere else. He didn’t care that he was originally sent somewhere else.
As he successfully finished picking the lock, he thought back on all of his achievements. He knew that he had been called to heaven because of all of the good things he’d done. But he knew that at the end of the day he was a lawyer.
And all lawyers go to hell. | 2021-03-17T07:35:05 | 2021-03-17T06:44:37 | 836 | 252 |
[WP] The world is stunned to see a human looking shape wander around on the Mars rover live feed. NASA is scrambling to come up with an explanation, but it cannot be the truth: Miguel the janitor somehow managed to wander onto the set. | "Shit!" yelled Gordon, one of the many computer engineers NASA had on payroll. "I rolled back the feed so the people wouldn't get suspicious, but how in the hell are we going to explain this?"
"Well, we could tell them the truth, but not the whole truth? Maybe it was a simulation feed instead of the live one on Mars?" suggested Kim.
"Yeah, and why do we have a replica of the Rover's supposed exact position being transmitted? Genius idea," retorted Gordon, massaging his temples, "This is a fuckup of amazing proportions. Who even let Miguel on set when it was being transmitted? Isn't he supposed to clean everything BUT the set?"
The whole debacle was taking the world by storm, and this is one of many such conversations happening at NASA. One man, an Aerospace Engineer, had a couple ideas.
"Alright, now hear me out here," he started, to the collective groans of the room.
James had a history of outlandish ideas that never worked, and everyone was ready for the worst.
"You ready? Alright, okay, how about we say that it was just a prank? You know, someone putting the video of a dancing janitor in front of the feed?"
Silence.
"That... that actually isn't so bad of an idea..."
"It could work!"
"Who would get the credit for the prank?!" exclaimed one man, eyes wide.
And so, the various NASA employees received a memo that the feed was a prank, and the perpetrator was yet to be found. Meanwhile, those in the know were fighting over who got the credit. Too bad for them that none of them would...
******************************
A man of color stood behind a podium in front of a dozen cameras and microphones, addressing the Nation about the most recent PR disaster.
"People of America! An event transpired earlier this week which cast doubt on our space programs, and especially the most recent Mars Rover expedition."
He licked his lips, eyes a bit too wide, and a bit of perspiration on his face. This was his moment, the day he made history.
"I would like to assuage your doubts- the dubious footage all of you have seen was merely a prank that I played."
There. He said it. The cameras stopped flashing for a moment- reporters stunned- then resumed tenfold, incredulous shouts rising in the room.
"Get rekt, scrubs!" exclaimed an exultant Obama, raising his hands in the air and swaggering away.
**********************
James Bolden, director of NASA, sat at a dinner table with several choice guests. "Thanks, Obama!" he toasted, his guests doing the same.
"Thanks, Obama." | Press Release: all parties.
From: NASA
Regarding yesterdays "live feed" from Mars Discovery rover and the apparent human shape seen doing Freddy Mercury impressions with a broom.
That was in fact, as speculated, Miguel the sanitation engineer at the JPL Mars simulation facility.
It would appear that the actual live feed from the Mars Discovery rover was hacked by unknown third parties, possibly Chinese or North Korean, and replaced by the feed from the rover simulation environment, which had been reactivated remotely. The feed was not in fact from Mars, but from the test environment, which was being cleaned at the time.
As far as we know, Miguel is a perfectly legal alien here on earth, and there is no 'conspiracy' to fake a landing on Mars.
+++++++++++
From: Director of NASA.
To: Lamar Smith, Chairman of Senate Science committee
Think they'll buy it this time?
From: Lamar Smith
To: NASA Director
Better hope they do or we're in violation of the 1938 Interplanetary treaty! | 2015-06-24T08:25:15 | 2015-06-24T07:59:17 | 267 | 147 |
[WP] You instinctively know everyone's name the second you meet them. One day you thank someone at the supermarket for helping you, and they stare at you wide eyed. "Nobody has called me by that name in centuries" | The cigarette lit up the darkness, an intruder against the suffocating atmosphere. I drank down the poison, savouring the toxic air, knowing full well the cost; I didn't care. I exhale a long plume, mixing my smokey breath with the smog and humidity of a heavy July evening. The air doing it's best at pretending to be soup, too thick to easily breathe but too thin to rain. That's why it was called The Blanket, as every day underneath it was the same humid, sweaty hell.
I flick what's left of my butt into the street and step out of the murk. The bright LED lights of the store a stark contrast to the darkness outside as I cross the air curtain; it takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust. When my vision clears I see the cashier keeping an eye on me, but not too closely. I casually nod to him, and he goes back to watching TV. Old habits die hard. I have a scant 15 minutes until my next shift, so I peruse the shelves quickly, essentials only. Another citizen is here shopping, we do our best to avoid each other.
Barely 2 minutes has past before the peacefulness of repetitive tinny music is interrupted by the desperate pleas of a would-be thief. "Give me all of your credits or you are toast!" I sigh, of all the days. I turn to look at the young man, leather jacket, smog filter, scruffy brown hair, obvious ocular implant. A profile filters through my mind, Nathan Jamesson. 21. Augmented. Recently Unemployed. The same sad story, unable to afford the juice that keeps their implant running, they resort to anything to get it. Without the juice their implant is a piece of junk, and with all of the purists it's hard to get work as an Augmented.
The cashier droid just looks at Nathan with blank glassy eyes, making no motion to acquiesce to his demands. "I mean it!" the kid shouts louder, as if volume can be used against something that thinks with silicon and electrons.
*Sorry. Due to my contract I am unable to comply with your request.*
As I expected, a canned response from the tin can. Unfortunately the kid's temper and frustration gets the better of him and his laser pistol discharges straight through the bot's head, leaving melted plastic and silicon melting onto the counter. A flash through my mind appears combining with the rest of Nathan's Profile. Wanted: **Armed Robbery. Destruction of Corporation Property.**
Very bad idea kiddo. The bot will be replaced by tomorrow, but that charge is permanent.
"What the fuck you are you looking at arsehole?" he yells, breaking me out of my thoughts.
"Nothing." I mutter, hoping he will pay me no more attention. Unfortunately he's not so smart. The increased adrenaline has made him bolder, but also rash. He points the gun at me, barrel only a few feet from my face.
"Give me all your credits!" he barks at me, finger twitching on the trigger. Damnit, I gotta do what he says. He's worse than unjuiced, he must be withdrawling from something else. I carefully reach into my jacket pocket, and slowly retrieve my credit card. I look at him squarely in the eyes, and flick it over to him.
His one good eye follows the card as it arcs upwards through the air. Mistake. I take the opportunity to plunge my shoulder deep into his chest, feeling him fall backwards, gun clattering to the floor and depowering. Even though I caught him unawares, he still a dozen years of youth on me and recovers faster.
"Fuck you old man!" he spits and draws a vibroblade. In a store cramped like this it's a better weapon, I have nowhere to manoeuvre out of the way if he knows how to use it. He thrusts forwards, accurately, and I leap backwards. A second attempted lunge from Nathan and I find myself up against the back shelves, nowhere to go. The expression on the good half of his face shows me that he's enjoying this. He strikes a third time, and with nowhere to go I figure I have nothing to lose.
The blade strikes clean through my left hand, lubricant leaking down my arm. The vibroknife has sliced completely through the centre and out the back. I grin back at Nathan. "Picked the wrong guy to fight, kiddo." I mock. Clenching my left fist crushes the knife into shards of useless ceramics, still sharp but no longer immintently dangerous. Using my moment of surprise I lunge forward, ploughing my titanium fist into Nathan's ocular implant. The twisted sound of metal hitting metal echoes through the shop. A broken implant just adds to his list of troubles.
Nathan quickly scrambles back down the isle away from me, but I can see what's coming, I've kept an eye on the other patron that's been lurking around. A quick thump from him and Nathan is knocked out, slumped on the ground. We both look at each other, temporary allies against a robbery gone wrong.
I break the uncomfortable silence. "Hey, thanks Adam. I appreciate it." Adam. The name from his profile appeared in my mind before I could prevent myself from saying it. A momentary slip up. Adam's eyes go wide as he hears his own name from my lips.
"How, do you know that name?" he asks, hesitantly.
My implant finishes building his profile in my mind.
*Name: Adam.*
*Identity: Unknown.*
*Job: Unknown.*
*Location: Unknown.*
*Threat: Extreme. Treat with the utmost caution and under no circumstances are you to interact with this android.* | “Johal, have you forgiven me?” the man says in a trembling voice as tears stream down his cheeks.
Suddenly, the man hunches over clutching his chest. “Are you alright, do you need me to call for an ambulance” I ask in shock, a silly question in the circumstance, I should have called for help immediately. He collapses to the floor with a loud thud. “Andrew call an ambulance, Karleil has collapsed!” I shout to another employee. I turn back to Karleil and gently flip him onto his back so that I can attempt CPR.
My trembling hands clumsily check for signs of life, and as I look back at his face I noticed some Grey hair that wasn't there before he collapsed. “He seems to be breathing, a bit laboured, but breathing none the less” I think as a sense of relief comes over me and the trembling subsides. “You are going to be okay Karleil” I say to him, more so for my sake as I still have no idea what just happened.
He slowly opens his eyes, then grasps my arm “Thank you kind stranger, you have no idea how long I have been waiting to hear my name be said out loud” he says as he starts weeping. By this point both his head and face are completely covered with Grey hair. “What is happening to you?” I ask very confused and scared at the sight of a man aging decades in mere minutes.
“It's alright, you shouldn't be concerned about someone like me” he responds now smiling. “I have lived countless lifetimes, and today is the first time for a very long time that I am able to feel anything other than emptiness” he says. “What do you mean? I don't understand” I reply starting to feel very weird and lightheaded. “It is a 700 year old story of an monster, who had hoped and prayed for redemption to one day be free from mortal bondage” he replies. I remain silent as not to interrupt.
“I committed atrocious acts in my youth, not caring about anyone or anything I was a God among men. I slew entire villages with my men and we enjoyed it. One day I encountered powerful witch in one of the villages, she slew all of my men and nearly killed me too. But instead she cursed me with immortality, a foolish decision on her part I thought, now there will be no man or beast alive that could kill me. She told me that I would remain cold and heartless for eternity, and that no one will show me kindness or love. I will spend the rest of my days alone longing to fill the bottomless void of emptiness that will consume me. The only way to lift the curse is for someone to say my name, my real name and thank me for an act of kindness or goodwill that I have done for them. “They would need to show tremendous appreciation for your deed, but no one alive today nor in the generations to come will know your name, but you will remember mine for I will imprint it into your heart with fear as you have done to all those whom you have killed.” Johal didn't mention that I would forget my name as well.
As the years passed I grew empty, nothing made me happy, sad or angry I felt nothing and it was horrible. Eventually I tried to repent to make up for my crimes over the years by helping people and doing what I could to make their lives better. But still nothing happened, the void kept growing like a black hole consuming me more and more each day. I haven't stopped helping people, not because it wanted their appreciation but because they deserve kindness and love, even if I don't and that's okay with me.”
Karleil’s wrinkled hand falls to the ground, and silence fills the isle. I stare at this man who has claimed to be an evil monster, and I want to feel anger and hate towards him. But as I continue to stare at his emaciated body I feel only sorrow and I begin to cry, “Johal has forgiven you, you are free.”
| 2018-11-05T22:10:57 | 2018-11-05T22:04:26 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] Following World War III, all the nations of the world agree to 50 years of strict isolation from one another in order to prevent additional conflicts. 50 years later, the United States comes out of exile, only to learn that no one else went into isolation.
People!
A few things:
1. Found the prompt on Pinterest, thought it was interesting (not necessarily realistic), and decided to post it, fully expecting it to go unnoticed. Surprise!
2. I am not in any way trying to take credit for coming up with the idea.
3. Turns out this is a repost. 🤷 Who knew?! /u/WinsomeJesse did because they posted it last time. Not trying to steal anyone's thunder. If you're super perturbed about it, go show them some love.
4. Have a good day y'all; be kind, make good decisions, and don't hold in your farts. 😉✌️ | It was a curious solution and nobody expected it to be as easy as it was. Fifty years of isolation.
Nobody knew who fired the first shots. Some said it was the Chinese, some said it was the North Koreans, others said it was the Americans. In the end, it really didn't matter, because everyone ended up involved in some way. We were all guilty and shared the same sins.
But for all the doomsaying about the 'end of the world', things actually weren't that bad... well, compared to how bad it could've been. Twentieth century novels convinced us that World War III would result in a blasted hellscape, billions dead, nothing left standing. Perhaps in our darkest moments, we still retained a shred of humanity. Or perhaps we learned from the terrible brand of warfare waged in the 40s. Rather than missiles striking innocent population centers, surgical strikes and tactical nuclear weapons simply devastated infrastructure and military targets. Hundreds of millions had still perished - collateral damage, fallout, famine and disease - but the worst hadn't happened. Eiffel Tower and Saint Basil's Cathedral were still standing. In a rather striking twist of irony, by waging World War III, we had destroyed mostly just the tools we would need to wage World War IV.
After that came the 'Grand Plan'. Fifty years of isolation. Everyone expected us to resist the plan the most, and were surprised when, after a national referendum, we ended up being the most eager. Walls went up. Trade routes gradually eased and then stopped altogether. The doors were shut.
And for fifty years, we prospered. We had lost many of the cheap luxuries we had grown accustomed to, but agriculture surged as, lacking imported crops, we razed thousands of hectares of corn to grow our own. Oil deposits were uncapped. Unemployment dropped to less than 1% as millions of lost jobs suddenly came in high demand. It was a simple life, but we were happy. Americana had returned.
Fifty years passed in an eyeblink and the great reunification would begin. All the nations of the world to meet and share what they had learned. It wasn't going to be easy, of course - the war had destroyed nearly every satellite. We would need to seek out people to communicate with manually.
Our first attempt at contact was to head north to our oldest allies. Canada had been one of the most apprehensive countries with regards to the isolation, and actually considered joining America in joint isolation, but the United Nations council soundly rejected the notion. As our diplomatic convoys crossed the border and entered Toronto, they were shocked by what they found. Hunger. Disease. Poverty. The once great city was decaying and largely vacant. Similar reports came from Montreal and Ottawa. Upon contacting the Canadian government, the truth came out.
It was a ruse. A great big ruse. The world, convinced that America had been, at best, indirectly responsible for the war, had collectively agreed to formulate fake isolation plans, and leave us in the dark. The plan was to bring the world and humanity as a whole into a bright and shining future. The results were... less than satisfactory.
If the world had advanced to prosperity, it certainly didn't show in Canada. Having lost their largest trading partner, Canada found themselves out of the global market. Asia had no use for Canadian manufacturing, and Eastern Europe had filled demand to Europe. Canada began to market their oil reserves, but shortly after the walls went up, the United Nations declared a global moratorium on fossil fuels to allow the earth to heal. Canada was, almost literally, left out in the cold, and had suffered greatly.
However, as bad as the situation in Canada was, it wouldn't compare to what we found to the south. We sent diplomatic teams south just as we did north... teams that were never heard of again. Crossing the border, they initially reported that little appeared different from before the war - there was running water, power, though it bore all the hallmarks of a relatively poor country. But as they would near Mexico City, they were just go dark.
We weren't sure what we were going to do. We didn't want our first reconnection with the world to involve military force, invading a country to find our teams. Then, weeks after the first team had gone dark, we learned something new. On the side of a road in south Texas, in a van, lay one of our ambassadors - beaten, bloodied, and mutilated. Along with him were the heads of the two dozen men and women who escorted him.
The ambassador had been returned with a message and shared with us what he had learned. It seemed that while Mexico had taken a few licks during the great war, that story was not true for South America. In fact, they survived the war almost completely untouched. Lacking global strike capabilities, they were largely ignored by the warring parties. The starry-eyed isolation plan was largely a European one, and the plan simply seemed to exclude the entire western hemisphere. Why bother with South America? They had little to offer the world, and they were too far and isolated. In fact, they even went as far as to congratulate themselves for 'freeing' South America of American influence and corruption.
With Mexico's government weakened, it left the country primed for the largest military force in the region to take over - the cartels. Mexico had become a narco-state. Without any threat from government forces - American or otherwise - the cartels expanded influence worldwide, filling the economic hole left by America's absence with a global drug ring. South of Panama, without the 'interference' of America - as the isolation planners would put it - South America was free to pursue its own destiny, a destiny that seemed to largely revolve around fifty years of civil wars and military coups.
Over the coming months, we learned much from Europe, Africa, and Asia, and replaced the wonder we held in our hearts with cynicism and anger and disgust. Instead of the utopia that had been envisioned, there was nothing more than endless war. While North Korea had fallen in World War III, China now occupied the Korean penninsula. Most of Eastern Europe had fallen to Russia. Africa was... well it was still Africa.
In Europe the situation was little improved. The European Union had combined into the United European States, headed by Germany and France. The United Kingdom had undergone its own degree of voluntary isolationism, withdrawing further into itself. It attempted to reunify the commonwealth, but Chinese control of the South Pacific left Australia and New Zealand subject to absolute trade embargoes.
To the north, Scandinavia had suffered immensely. Without oil and the american economy to sell their investments, Norway had gone from one of the most prosperous nations to a state whose crippling debts had to be underwritten every year by the rest of the UES. Threats from Russia had pushed Finland into a military state, and tensions were high that invasion could occur any day. Pushing for hardline social reform, tolerance, and acceptance, refugees from the war-torn North Africa and Southwest Asia flooded by the millions into Europe. Cries to even attempt to slow the flow were ignored as the mewling complaints of the bigoted. Before long, the population outpaced the capability to feed and employ people, and the dream of prosperity, where no man had to want for anything, had waned into a slow, cold recession that had lasted for nearly four decades. Hundreds of square miles of cheap, filthy government tenaments were erected ringing the major cities.
Everywhere we had gone, we found that over and over, that good intentions mean nothing without the wilpower to see them out. Our envoys were given a cold reception and simply told to leave. "America wasn't wanted anymore", they insisted.
And so we returned home.
And then we rebuilt the walls.
Maybe the world needed fifty more years. | **6th April, 2037 - HMAS *Maryborough*, Somewhere off the coast of Australia**
"So, the yanks bought it?"
The speaker leans heavily against the rail, staring at the smouldering coastline. A deck above, overstressed rotor blades whine slowly, cooling in the ocean breeze.
"Oh yes. Contrition, shame, repentance...if we'd brought a whip along, I reckon their delegation would have flagellated themselves."
The new arrival joins him, steadying herself as the vessel rocks in an errant swell.
"Hmph. Bloody typical. Living like the world's a movie, where they're the heroes and everybody else is either a sidekick to use, a villain to fight or just part of the fucking scenery."
He sighs, rubbing shaking fingers across his eyes, as if massage will bring vision back into being.
"I wouldn't have believed you, even a week ago. But they took it without even raising a single protest. Fifty years, as of 5 days ago..."
She trails off, suddenly guilty. A few minutes either way, and she could have been like him. One of the thousands left burnt and sightless. They would probably never know whose it was that did it, not that it mattered. Russian, Chinese, American, Korean, Japanese...maybe even their own.
"Of course. The Americans are like children, when you get right down to it. A billion dead, more injured, climate buggered, but the story must go on. They know they've done wrong, so they're expecting to be put into timeout."
A chuckle, the first in what feels like years, forces its way out of her at the mental image that conjures. Her mind turns back to the stories of her youth.
"Well, that's what happens when the 'hero' does a bad thing, isn't it? He goes into exile, to repent his sins, and gets called back when the world needs to be saved again. Superman, Batman..."
Her companion tries to join her, but lapses into a throaty cough instead.
"More...like...the fucking...Hulk."
He stumbles, the jerky movements pulling several tubes taut against his chest. A strident beeping begins to sound, soon joined by one buzzer, then another.
"Oh jesus... Nurse! NURSE!"
A bandaged hand clutches her arm.
"They...want...a story. Give...them...one."
Her tears were simply a drop in the ocean.
**9th April 2037 - Bundaberg Disaster Relief Centre**
His communications centre looked a lot like hers, she mused, as the technicians scurried around the jury-rigged setup, making sure the link was at least semi-stable.
"This is quite a surprise, Deputy Prime Minister. I believe it was you who convinced us all to live out the next fifty years in isolation, after all. Come to leave your neighbours with some parting words of wisdom? Perhaps apologise for joining the rest of them in burning the world down?"
Her eyes widened, and she mentally kicked herself. Of course he knew. The Tasman wasn't that wide, and just because they'd forsaken a military, didn't make them stupid. Hell, even an idiot could tell a rocket going up from one coming down.
"Prime Minister, actually. As of Monday. And no. To the former, at least."
She took a guilty sort of pleasure in watching him sigh, the bags under his eyes suddenly looking unbearably heavy.
"A good man, if misguided. Another life burnt on the atomic pyre. He will be missed. What do you want then, Ms Prime Minister? I have fifty years to prepare my country for the next ride on this insane merry-go-round, and I don't intend to waste it."
Here it was. If she couldn't convince this man, then there was no point in trying anywhere else. If she could...
"Let me tell you a story."
He doubted. He laughed. He doubted some more. He threatened to cut off the call. He thought. He called for advisors. He doubted. He refused to believe. He had it repeated. He laughed. He doubted.
He agreed.
**6th April, 2087 - New Brisbane, 2km underground**
"Pickups are live. Boarding has been reported complete, and all birds are green. Looks like they're really going to do it."
Chatter fills the air conditioned command centre. Overhead, screens regurgitate a million different data streams - live footage, passenger estimates, a few colour commentators. Bound to her life support chair, the ex-Prime Minister smiles as one of the feeds momentarily cuts above the rest.
"-and we are here today not in sorrow, but in determination. To follow our brothers and sisters to the stars, to rejoin the-"
She raises her voice, the inbuilt amplifiers carrying it across the busy room.
"Get your bets in! She's just about to announce the name!"
The assembled representatives, covering most of the remaining nations on the planet, chuckle politely.
"Still ordering everyone around, I see, 'Mum'?"
The Indonesian ambassador pats her on the shoulder, and she grasps his hand.
"You bloody well bet I am. Somebody has to keep this lot on task. Got your bet in?"
He looks stricken.
"You know that the Quran forbids-"
She gives him a Stare.
"...20 on *Enterprise*, ma'am. Seems fitting. 'Boldly go', and all that."
She laughs, and turns back to the screens. A countdown has appeared, framing the giant silver ship they show, looming over a cracked mesa.
"Y'know, you ought to be right. All those years ago, when I came up with this batshit idea, I probably would have agreed. But as much as they need a story, I think there's one thing they need more. And it's what we're giving them, even though they'll never know it."
The view changes back to the figure at the podium.
"With that, I christen her...*Independence*."
| 2018-01-18T02:39:17 | 2018-01-18T01:28:33 | 129 | 18 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | > #489,231,337
Robert Johnson wasn't a very good dad. He'd drink, and he'd smoke, and when he was tired he would grumble at his kids. He didn't play catch. He didn't play video games. He mostly sat around and got fat after working at the mill. His wife, Leslie, would ask him to mow the lawn and he'd yell at her. His kids would run up the stairs while playing and he'd yell at them. At work, he'd grumble and yell at the new guy more than most. He was just an unpleasant person.
His mug's number changing didn't really help matters. He always knew it was bullshit, but it never really dawned on him how low he ranked. "Christ almighty" he thought, there's only 320 million people in this fucking country.
So the morning after it changed he was brushing his teeth, and staring back at him was a balding, dumpy, unshaved, slobby man in a stained a-shirt.
"When the fuck did I grow so much back hair?"
The hot water of the shower was a poor comfort. As usual, the family was still asleep when he left the house. He resolved to fix things.
So that afternoon he got off work. He had been grumpy but he wasn't a complete waste. He did his job. So he got off and fixed himself up to get some gifts. He went to Toys R Us and bought a few lego sets for his son and some Barbie Dolls for his daughter. He went to the Florist and bought some flowers for his wife. He even went to the barber and got his hair cut into something respectable.
Then he got home early. He tried to greet his wife with a kiss and flowers when she got home, but she laughed. His son took the lego sets and muttered "thanks dad" before dashing upstairs. His daughter glared at him over the Barbie Doll and asked why she didn't get legos too.
Sighing, he sat back down in his chair to watch TV.
A few weeks went by. He asked his son to play catch.
"No thanks dad, I'm going over to Tommy's house."
He asked his daughter if she wanted to go for a walk.
"No thanks dad, I'm going over to Cassie's place."
He asked his wife if she wanted to get dinner.
"What are you, stupid? I have to pick Bobby up from Tommy's house and Jeannie up from Cassie's?"
Sighing, he sat back down in his chair to watch TV.
The next morning he looked at the mug. That same, long number wrapped around the outside. Saturday.
He asked his wife if he could help her. He couldn't. He asked his son and daughter to play, they wouldn't. So he sat back down in his chair to watch TV.
Months went by. He bought gift after gift, flowers, toys, you name it. He asked his wife out to dinner, he bought his daughter a puppy, he played catch with his son... or at least he tried to. His daughter didn't want a puppy. His son didn't want to play catch. His wife wasn't interested in him.
So each night he sighed, then sat back down in his chair to watch TV.
Finally, it was Christmas Eve. He lay awake, worrying about the latest round of gifts he had bought, when suddenly he heard a thunk on the roof.
"What the fuck?"
The thunk was followed by a few others, resolving into footsteps. A muffled crash was heard downstairs.
"Could it be?"
He got up, bewildered, and made his way downstairs. There, in the kitchen, were two masked figures. They all stood stunned for a second, before Robert bellowed and charged in.
He wasn't sure how it happened, but he had a kitchen knife in his hand. One was on the ground bleeding, the other was fighting. They struggled. Robert got cut, deep, in his neck, but he fought on. He was grabbing an ankle, struggling around the floor. The table was knocked over. Chaos. His vision was dark, but in the dim light he saw something; the mug.
He grabbed it, slamming it into the assailant's face until it broke.
He lay there on the floor, bleeding in the dark. The lights turned on and his wife screamed.
A thin piece of shattered porcelain lay directly in his view. As his eyes darkened and the world grew bleary he saw it change from #4892 to #489 to #48 to #4 to #1. | The mug was in the back yard shed with most of my dads things. I had gotten them when he passed away. It stood there with a big number one on it. I decided to bring it inside, since i had known to me he had been my number one dad.
When i touched it the number changed. I hadn't been with a girl in about a year. I hadn't dated in almost 3. I was a dad.
The number was insanely high. But i didn't know i was a father until i touched it, so i guess... that was fine. It bothered me though. I mean it would bother anyone. 698,589. It was a non-scripted kind of number. The kind you would see on a prison inmates shirt. The kind of number I felt like.
I called Cristina. We had dated for 3 years, i almost popped the question, but then her grandparents died and she said she needed time to think her life over. And we just fell out of touch. She was the last girl i was with.
The conversation was pretty normal. I am good how are you, me too, thanks for asking. But like word vomit it came spilling out of my mouth like a a wet shit on a hot day. "DID YOU GIVE BIRTH TO A CHILD OF MINE WITHOUT ME KNOWING?" The receiver was quiet for a long time. Then you could hear her breathing on the other end in a sobbing tone. "I had an abortion without telling you." I wasn't sure if it was yours, John, I cheated on you. Thats why i left. I felt to guilty."
I knew i shouldn't but i felt relief. Not a dad here. I told her it didn't bother me and hung up after saying we should get coffee some time. She seemed stunned but i was on a mission.
The next number i called wasn't as good of a lead. Tristan was her brother. He picked up, her phone, he asked me how i was, what kind of day i was having, and if i had heard from his sister at all. Told me all about his weekend out cracking cold ones with the boys. There it was again, the bile taste, The acid. "DID YOUR SISTER HAVE MY CHILD AND NOT TELL ME?" He laughed as my voice cracked. then when he stopped he said, "Maybe, I havent heard from her since you two dated."
"why do you have her old number?" Oh she gave me this phone the last time we saw each other. It had her number, but i just told all her friends it was mine now, and kept it. You mean you don't know where she is?"
I couldn't answer right away. Then after a while all i could managed was, "I'm coming over, Be ready for me." and hung up. | 2017-06-11T09:22:28 | 2017-06-11T09:05:00 | 228 | 21 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | 28, 34, 21, and 54.
I remained where I stood, nodding to the guests in silent affirmation that they were allowed in. As they trudged past me and through the door of Barney's Strip Club, I reached into my pocket, fumbled for a cigarette, and stuck it in my mouth. Now where was my lighter? It would be so much easier if I could just-
20, 17.
Ugh. I groaned inwardly. 17? That was definitely not a number that should be here. Time to perform my job, I suppose. "Hey, you two. Hold it."
I shifted myself into the doorway, blocking the two young men from entering. Behind his expensive looking sunglasses, I could see the younger one already beginning to sweat. Was he really unable to wait for just one year longer? Honestly, kids these days... I sighed inwardly, but continued standard procedure.
"Excuse me, but can I see your ID?"
At the first mention of an ID, they both began to fidget. The younger one kept glancing over at the older... his brother, maybe? Eventually, the older one took charge, handing over two pieces of plastic with an artificial smile plastered on his face. I ignored the small talk he tried to make and pretended to study the cards intensely, while in reality I was rolling my eyes behind designer sunglasses. I didn't know the first rule about being a bouncer, let alone how to identify fake IDs from real ones. All the club wanted was for me to do was two things- keep out the riff raff out, and be good about it. Which suited me just fine.
"Nice try, kid, but you're going to have to try somewhere else." I couldn't be bothered to mess with these two any longer, as my cigarette was getting soggy. I handed back the IDs and glared them off. Any possible protests they contemplated melted like snow upon seeing my iron-set muscles, and they beat a hasty retreat. In my profession, it helps to be a mountain of a man like me.
And another thing that helped was this ability. The power to see numbers over peoples heads that showed their age- at first, I thought it was a stupid power, but eventually I came to see its use. After all, I turned out to make a pretty good bouncer, despite knowing nothing of the job. It came in handy for my other business as well.
Speak of the devil. I was just about to light my cigarette when something else caught my attention.
3,214.
A petite man who couldn't be over thirty, wearing an elegant tuxedo and tie that dripped of extra money, stood in front of me. He looked like your typical, unassuming gentleman, the type who wouldn't hurt a fly. And I might have been fooled by this disguise as well, if not for that 3,214 floating over his head. This wasn't work anymore. Now, it was business.
Once more, I sigh inwardly. Over 3,000? Then this might actually prove to be troublesome. As *they* get older, they get stronger as well. Feeling a pain welling up in my back from an old injury, I crack my neck around. Then I spit out my cigarette and lumber into the doorway once more, standing above this ancient wonder of a man.
Well, not that *it* is a man. The *thing* tilted its head in inquisition.
"Pardon me, but is something wro-"
I didn't give it a chance to finish its sentence. Pulling back my shoulder, I let loose a full powered punch straight into the face of the *thing*, a clean punch that would have demolished a building. And yet, even as the man goes flying, he's already fully regenerated by the time he hits the ground.
*It* immediately enters combat mode, transforming its arms into pairs of wickedly sharp blades, but I don't give it a chance to use them. Utilizing another power of mine, a more useful one, I ignite my fists into flame, and unleash a barrage of punches upon the creature until its been reduced to pulp. Only once its been melted into a puddle on a ground do I cease my attack.
"Ha... ha..." As I pant, I observe the creature for movement, but it appears to be completely and thoroughly dead. Just to make sure though, I light the remaining puddle on fire, and watch it evaporate into the air.
Sticking a new cigarette in my mouth, I light a fire beneath it with the snap of a finger. Then, leaning back against the wall, I crack my neck again, dispelling the misdirection barrier that I had erected around the area. Once more, customers begin to trickle in, and I continue my vigilant watch.
I work as a bouncer, but my real job is somewhat different. It just so happens that *they* like places like clubs, where life energy and youthfulness is abundant. But I'll be here. And I'll be watching. | **July 12, 1994**
Um what the fuck?! That man couldn't have been 1056 years old, there's just no way; the i.d. couldn't have been a fake and he looked exactly like his photo. Man... maybe all this drinking is catching up to me.. drowning out what brains I do got, I definitely should try to lay off the liquor for a while.
But what if I wasn't wrong? I had to be though. A 1056 year old wouldn't be getting drunk in that seedy shit hole, surely not. Jesus Christ, I'm an alcoholic aren't I? Instead of the shakes I'm just going fucking insane. I mean, a 1056 year old couldn't possibly exist and here I am trying to justify normal behaviors for a dude over ten centuries old. wonderful, I really am a psychotic freak of nature.
**July 28, 1994**
There it was again! That same 1056. I know it's the same one, the numbers have the same psychic texture as the last one, I know, I *know* it's the same 1056. And I'm sober, or at least I've been mostly sober the past two weeks, I really am trying hard. But jukov viell hell, the ancient freak was a little girl this time, not a slicked back 30 year old like in the club. And ve' saw me looking at her, it's like her eyes locked into mine with a laser and it was terrifying. I swear I couldn't move for what seemed like an hour though I'm sure it was just a few seconds. I don't know what the hell is going on, but I'm getting the fuck out. I'm leaving tomorrow and I'm not going to tell anyone why or where I'm going.
**August 5, 1994**
I'm settling here into Dallas just fine, even already got two jobs so I'm bouncing bars every night. It feels gulock vol shien over and already have my feet on the ground. I don't know what that thing was, but I ain't seen any thousand year old crypt keepers walking around here. I think it's buvok l'ie that I just forget that man and little girl and pretend it never happened. Volpp shon die! Ha
**August 9, 1994**
I'm vol niectien javhol. There's no way around it. I'm thryyka insane vol. In the bathroom this sunnatal 987 flickered above my head like a light with a wire shorting out. Da! I've never seen a nuvon above my head and never thought anything about it. But 987. It was in epileptic strobe, but unmistakable, 987 with it's own unizall textovu, my own psychic fingerprint, I guess. I don't know whether I should drink until I can't see straight enough to notice the flickering number apparating above my head, check myself in a psych hoklinta, or keep pretending that it doesn't effect me just like that thousand year old freak back in Philoxxanta. Fuckin hell...
**September 8, 2106**
Vien dol mal shinne. Va kra sel na vien talova! Herein je ve' sien. 1056 hai raj volkina buvo! Home! At last hommili! | 2017-09-01T23:18:34 | 2017-09-01T20:21:47 | 189 | 13 |
[WP] Across the galaxy, a synthetic drug known as "Fury" is illegal everywhere due to its effects on the mind and body, humans call it Adrenalin and they can make it naturally. | We were on the edge of the Milky Way when we first detected Earth. Humans are supposed to be docile. Nothing ruthless like Falthrines and no edges like Drumps. They aren't even united, we could just tip toe by the racket and make our way into the atmosphere to start sucking em up with a vacuum or something. We assumed we'd get the worst of it from their space station. No biggie.
Mistake number one was assuming we had the upper edge just because we were from the outer. How long have humans been cooped up on earth? Did it ever occur to you that they are fighting each other. How stupid, right? They've spent millions of years ravaging their own race for the color of their skin and some artificial currency. The idiots don't even know the shit grows in them.
That was mistake number two. There's billions of these fuckers but not all of them are stupid. When we first broke into the station we were blindsided. One of those fuckers turned from white to bright red and started typing on the computer. Next thing you know I had 2 friends down, one sucked out of the vent and the next shot right through the visor. How did the human know Calby's brain was in the chest? I told him the visor was a bad idea, when they got Calby I knew we had to leave, the station was too hot, full of Fury.
Fury is supposed to be illegal. Damn humans change colors when you piss them off. We been growing this stuff in the basement of Nebulus 689 and they just have it in their pockets? I saw my cousin take Fury once, never was the same again. He kept shaking, couldn't get rid of the feeling of wanting to punch something. Started stabbing shit in his basement. Now he's stuck in some virtual reality simulator suckin on his toes or something.
Humans can just use the shit and forget it ever happened. Some of them don't even know. That was my last mistake. I was heading toward earth to try to suck some people out into space and I met a young girl. She was purple, her hair waving and glowing like andromeda come to bear witness. That was mistake number three. We had no idea the heights that Fury could take them to.
She was on us too fast. | Everything was going so well until that day at the school.
The centauri ambassador was being given a tour. The kids were behaving. It was all going well until one of them started puffing up. Little James had a severe peanut allergy and must have been exposed somehow.
He started going into anaphylaxis. Luckily he had an epi pen and just as he'd been taught he got it out and plunged the needle into his own thigh.
As people rushed to summon an ambulance the ambassador was all but forgotten at the back of the room. He was shaking like a leaf and holding some kind of scanner.... muttering about assasins, drugs, rage and a species that would apparently try to use its own juveniles as living weapons.... | 2018-03-19T02:33:27 | 2018-03-19T00:46:52 | 30 | 16 |
[WP] The world's most powerful leaders enter cryostasis as the world is on the brink of ecological collapse, planning to return when stability is assured. Hundreds of years later they are woken to stand trial. "The world was fixed while these men slept. An apology will not suffice". | Society had fallen.
Most of the records were lost of the times before the cataclysm. Coastal areas were devastated. The areas deserts covered expanded three fold. Storms scoured the land for years.
Humanity did what it could to hold on then start to rebuild as the worst of the weather subsided. Generations had languished in the world to the point where all anyone knew was suffering and hardship. Expeditions were launched to former major urban centers to look for information to piece together what had happened. All anyone knew was rumor and story, no one knew the real truth for sure.
Rumors swirled of a complex in the mountains that was still active but no one could enter. For the better part of ten years, teams tried to get access to the complex. Once they did, we learned what caused our world to be what it was but also troves of lost knowledge. More sites with information were discovered. Lost technology was remastered. There was so much information to sort through it would take another 20 years to sort through it all. A new society sprout of the rubble of the old world and the hard times. People swore never again and tried to make the world a better place.
In that span of 20 years, things progressed quickly as information and resources were shared with the rest of the world. Things were better. Cities were being rebuilt, the wilds tamed and agriculture feed the starving.
Then we found them. Another expedition to a location found in the first trove of information. It was a vast complex housing cryo-tubes of people from before the cataclysm. We figured out how to revive them. They were lauded as heroes and paraded through the streets. These people were a living link to our past. They told us they put themselves into cryosleep to help the future generations because they knew the end was coming and wanted to help. We elected them as leaders and soon things began to go down hill. Some researchers were digging through the files and found references to these men and women.
What they had told us was partially true. They were frozen to help future generations, but they were also responsible for the cataclysm. Their inaction on issues was directly responsible for conditions deteriorating. As word spread, unrest grew. We had lived and fought for this new world. These people ran from their responsibilities and now were trying to tell us what do. It wasn't going to stand.
Some were taken from their houses in the middle of the night and strung up outside their homes. The ones who survive the "Night of Old Days" were rounded up. We debated for weeks on what do with them. It was decided that we would revive an old tradition of a trial by jury. We put them all on trial for abdicating their responsibilities as leaders. All were found guilty.
When the last was tried, we severed our ties to the past with their blood. | “Good lord, well, what do you expect me to do of it?” This crude response was not Safya’s usual conditioning, but the circumstances afforded her the outburst. Her own ConSciOff informed her of relics nearly 300 years old. Living ones.
“ConWom Safya, these... aren’t relics like we are used to.”
“Obviously; they’re alive.”
“No, besides that. During their time, which, by attire and identification we found to be around the early to mid 2000s, these men were... well, you’re going to have to see for yourself.”
Safya paused, thought, and ended the call with no formal conclusion. She hated those. A utopian future, complete with bureaucracy.
Still, her duty prevailed. She sighed, and pulled up the holographic display on her desk and began to read the files sent that morning.
As she perused the new information, her heart fluttered. Skipped. Dropped. These relics were responsible for a vast amount of human suffering: propagandizing the public, hoarding wealth, environmental degradation, everything capable of forsaking the greater good.
ugh i’m tired i’ll come back | 2019-02-03T20:50:20 | 2019-02-03T20:48:41 | 190 | 36 |
[WP] "For you sin of greed" you are darned to purgatory said St. Peter. "To ascend you must win every game in your Steam library" | Chuck opened his eyes. That was something he had not thought he would ever do again. Once the car found itself on open air, he was pretty sure he was a goner. But here he was, standing...somewhere.
Where was he, anyway? He looked around. Everything seemed to be made of light. It billowed around him like clouds, forming intricate patterns and solid structures. And for some reason, it did not blind him. In front of him, the light formed a wall taller than any he had seen before, with a gate of perfect, sublime beauty. He could not help but walk towards it.
"Charles Minnow." Came a voice.
Chuck froze and looked around. He did not see anyone. Then, the light began swirling, spiralling around and forming the shape of man. He was an elderly fellow, with a well kept beard and loose robes. He stood straight, even with his age. He bore in his hands a thick book that was open to a page in the middle.
"Uh...I go by Chuck." Chuck said.
"Very well, Chuck. I am St. Peter, here to determine your place in the afterlife.
"Wait, seriously? That stuff is real? Wow, I should've gone to church more."
"Such practices are irrelevant. Your personal beliefs don't matter, so long as you are virtuous." He paused and Chuck was about to ask a question, but St. Peter spoke before he could. "Yes, even atheists. And non-Christians."
"Oh. Okay then."
"Now then, let's see." The gatekeeper looked at his book. "Not bad, I suppose. No crimes, cared for the elderly. A bit too indulgent in drink. Oh, oh dear."
"What? What's wrong?"
"A bit too happy on the games, I see. Hoarding Steam games with no intentions on playing them."
"There were a lot of good sales." Chuck said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Wait, that's bad?"
"Possession for possession's sake is a form of greed. That is frowned upon up here. Hm, let's see. Ah, I know. For the son of greed, you shall be darned--"
"Uh, hate to interrupt, but don't you mean damned?"
"No, I mean darned. You we're greedy enough to be fully damned, so you get darned to Heck instead of damned to Hell. You can think of Heck as Purgatory's basement, if that helps. Just think of yourself as going to Purgatory. It's basically the same thing."
"Oh. I...that doesn't sound too bad. I guess. So, is there a way I can get to move up?"
"Oh, yes, of course. Hell is inescapable, but Purgatory is designed to be gotten out of. And since Heck is part of Purgatory, you can ascend with sufficient effort."
"Great!" Chuck said. "So, how do I do that?"
"Since it is your games that got you into Heck, it shall be those games that get you out. Once you have played, and beaten, every game in your Steam library, you shall begin your ascension into Heaven."
"Wait, really? Just play a few video games and--"
He stopped. A pit formed in his stomach. He had just over 5,000 games. A mix of indie and AAA titles that would take a lifetime to get through. And not all of them had endings.
"Wait, seriously? What about the games that don't have an end?"
"Hm, for those, it shall be when you have earned all the Steam achievements, without looking up guides. If a game has neither an end nor achievements, we'll say about a thousand hours of playtime should do. Oh, and all obtained data will be wiped, so you'll have to earn everything from scratch."
The corner of Chuck's lips twitched. "Oh, this is gonna suck isn't it?"
"That is why it's a punishment, yes. Now, have a nice afterlife, and make sure you properly reflect on your mortal wrongdoings while you're down there."
St. Peter waved his hands and the light making up the landscape bent and shifted. It rose around him, sealing him in a small chamber that looked like a fancy elevator. Which, he supposed, was probably what it was. Especially when he felt it start going down.
When it stopped, he found himself in a bedroom. A single bed lay against one wall with a desk along the other. Atop the desk was a surprisingly high end computer with a very nice gaming chair. Chuck sighed and went to the chair.
This was going to take a while, and he figured he might as well get started. | "Okay."
Peter halted in mid-monologue. WHAT? The voice reverberated somewhere.
"Okay? I don't... I don't know the proper response. This is my first..."
FIRST WHAT?
I gestured helplessly around at the heavenly courtroom, trying to encompass etiquette, existential crisis and, well, lack of existentiality and everything that was being revealed to me about the Universe.
"But how..."
WHY ARE YOU TALKING?
"I... have questions? How would I play or access--"
OH YOU'RE ONE OF *THEM* AREN'T YOU?
"Wh... who?"
AN ENGINEER. I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN IT. HASHEL! HASHEL GET HERE AT ONCE.
A small whirlwind of a cloud popped up through the floor *through the floor what the heck*, arrived in front of Peter and seven pairs of wings popped out of something resembling an octopus with a suit on.
WHAT IS IT PETER?
OH FOR LAST GLORY'S SAKE WEAR LEGS WHEN WE'RE AROUND SOULS. HAVE I TAUGHT YOU NOTHING!?
A puff of something and in place of the eldritch angel thingy there stood a bearded young fellow holding a notebook and a phone.
"Sorry. What is it, boss?"
Peter gestured at me. HE WILL HAVE... QUESTIONS. SO MANY QUESTIONS. HANDLE IT.
The man glanced at me, then cleared his throat, "Well, er..."
WHAT IS IT? DON'T TELL ME YOU HAVE QUESTIONS, TOO!? WHAT DO I PAY YOU FOR?
"Well, actually..."
IT'S A METAPHOR! ANGELS DON'T GET PAID! FINE, ASK.
"What is his judgment?"
Peter halted a bit AH YES. HE WAS FOUND TO HAVE SEVEN HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN UNFINISHED GAMES IN HIS STEAM ENGINE.
"Erm... library?"
YES. THAT'S THE ONE. THE LIBRARY STEAM ENGINE. AS PUNISHMENT IN PURGATORY, HE WILL HAVE TO FINISH ALL OF THOSE TO GET TO HEAVEN.
Hashel gaped at the towering form of Saint Peter. "But... that's not a--"
Peter bent forward impossibly, shoving one thundering eye at us. DO I HEAR A QUESTION FORMING?
Hashel swallowed "No, boss."
WHAT DO WE SAY ABOUT QUESTIONS?
Hashel sighed "That they are the mark of an inquisitive mind."
AND WHAT DO WE SAY ABOUT THE INQUISITION?
Hashel lowered his head "That to expect it is moot."
GOOD. Peter straightened. GET HIM STARTED. HANDLE EVERYTHING.
Hashel frowned "Even..."
EVERYTHING.
Hashel just nodded "You're the boss, boss."
AND DON'T FORGET IT. NEXT!
Suddenly Hashel and I were outside, at the steps of a great hall in the clouds. We looked at each other and Hashel gave me a shrug as if to say manglement will mangle and began to prod me away from the building.
"So... did you have Cookie Clicker on your list?" | 2022-08-28T15:01:37 | 2022-08-28T14:31:50 | 92 | 36 |
[WP] You attempt to start a conversation with a girl at a bar. The girl next to her looks at you, startled, and asks, "you can see her too?" | Tonight is the night I finally build the courage to ask a woman out. The corner bar isn't the ideal place to find a partner, but it's certainly the easiest. Soon I'll make my move...after a few drinks, of course.
It would seem most of the fish here have already been baited. What's this? There's a straggler at the end of the bar! Two of them! If I fail miserably, I'll have a second chance. Opportunity is calling my name.
I approach one of them and begin mumbling through an icebreaker I read online. Suddenly, the second calls to me and asks me to speak privately in the corner. She asks, "You can see her too?"
"What?"
"You can see her! That means...you're like me!"
"What do you mean...like you?"
"Well, she's dead. You saw her...that can only mean one thing."
"I don't have time for this."
"You don't believe me, do you?"
"No, not really."
"I'll prove it to you...just you watch!"
The strange woman approaches the girl at the bar and begins yelling in her ear. The bar girl pays her no mind.
"Look, I'm not that gullible. The two of you are playing me. I should never have come here. This is what I get for trying."
The strange woman persists. "Okay, watch *this*," she says, as she...she...puts her arm through the bar girl's chest! The woman returns to me in the corner.
"What in the hell...how'd you do that?"
"Go on, see for yourself. Give her a feel. I'm telling you, she's not really there."
I can't really deny what I just saw, so I obey. I get right up next to the bar girl and reach for her chest. Wait a minute...she's made of flesh! She's made of flesh and I've got a handful of her breast! She gasps and demands to know what the hell I think I'm doing. I point to the strange woman (who, at this point, is in the corner, snickering to herself) and declare, "It was her! She's fooled me...somehow!" The bar girl looks over and back at me, puzzled. "Who?"
| “You can see her too?” the girl next to her asked, both of them looking shocked. This was now getting interesting.
“What do you mean, I can see her too?”
All I wanted was a drink, stood at the bar, waiting for the useless, overworked bartender to stop flirting with the girls the opposite end of the bar, and take my order. All I wanted was a glass of water damnit, I started the conversation out of boredom.
“All my life, I’ve been trying to tell people I’m not crazy, I’ve been able to see her since I was six!”
Did this mean that she was crazy? After all. She could see me too. | 2016-06-06T15:47:03 | 2016-06-06T15:10:12 | 244 | 29 |
[WP] A world where eating a person lowers your age by 20 years. The poor are offered up to the rich who have been around for hundreds of years. | For a long time, it was seen as a horrible crime against nature. To kill a person, only to add more years to your life? It could only be called inhumane. But there were those who secretly did it, who had done research on these effects.
Eating a person? 20 years. But what was defined as a person? Soon the wealthy found a way to become younger, only a few years at a time. It was unnoticeable. But as the years ticked by, it became less and less obvious. But by then it was too late. The wealthy had complete control.
Part one.
Wilfred Ruinfield, Age 376. For the past few centuries, he had maintained the form of a man in his mid twenties, living his life in the Hollywood Hills in his Oceanside mansion. However, for the past few years, he has been de-aging at a slow rate, and now has the body of a child of three years.
We have been unable to determine the cause of Mr Ruinfields symptoms, considering how he has not consumed a living being in many years. At first we suspected that someone had been tampering with his food supply, but even after he had begun to make it himself, symptoms continued. At current rate, subject will be unable to take care of himself in several months.
Resume regular testing.
Part two.
Wilfred was scared. Now in a body of a baby, one only a few months old, he could no longer take care of himself. At the hospital he was being tested at, he was now tucked away in a crib, in the most secure location. But when would they find what was wrong with him?
At that moment, the door opened, but nobody entered. Confused, Wilfred looked around, but could see no one. However, he could sense that someone was in here with him. Where could he be?
Standing by the cage, the woman revealed herself. She was smiling, but the smile never reached her eyes, which were like ice. "We are the same" she said, reaching down and opening the babies mouth. "Both of us have eaten others to survive.".
Pulling out a syringe, she placed it near the babies mouth. It tried to struggle, but the liquid inside sprayed out into it's mouth. It began to squirm, it's eyes wide in horror, asking why. "A consintrated dose" she replied. "I usually gave you the blood of a single innocent, but today, this contains the blood of twenty.".
The baby began to shrink, smaller and smaller, until it disappeared completely. The woman turned around, and became invisible once again. She had killed the first of many, in the way most fitting for those who had eaten others to survive. She would soon select her next target, and the cycle would begin again. And when all of it was over, she would leave this world.
For it was a monster, who hunted the monsters.
Edit: stupid auto correct | They called me a maid.
I mean, seriously. Everyone knew what was really going on, but you couldn’t… just say it out loud, could you? It was as if a whole society had decided to pretend it doesn’t happen.
By inches and degrees we’d come to this place. We’d always lifted up the few on the backs of the many. We poor had literally been giving our lives for the rich.
I guess these days we do it even more literally. Ha.
I hated them, with the impotent fury we all have towards the unimaginably rich. Sometimes you find yourself in a place where you don’t have any power, right? You just gotta… take the crappy situation you’re in, and do what you can. Even if there’s nothing you can do.
So I was hired on as a maid to the Hart family. The previous maid had… disappeared, along with her family. Same thing happened to the maid before. And the one before her.
“Terrible situation,” said Mrs. Hart as I ladled her stew. Almost as if she considered us as humans. I pushed my contempt down as she sipped from her spoon.
And I tried not to smile. Because I knew what had really happened to the previous maids and their families. And I knew what was about to happen to Mrs. Hart. | 2016-02-22T00:21:34 | 2016-02-21T21:32:56 | 138 | 69 |
[WP] You have the ability to double jump. Scientists are still trying to figure it out. | “I don’t know how else to explain it,” said Kevin. “I just jump, then jump again.”
The man in the flannel shirt wrote in his notebook.
“And you’ve always been able to do this?” he asked.
“Yes Dr.Norbert,” Kevin replied through a yawn. “I’ve been double jumping as long as I’ve been jumping.”
Dr. Norbert’s opening questions were the same as the eight scientists that had come before him. It would be hours before they pushed through the same basic discussions of genetics, physiology, and the parameters of his ability. The first day with a new researcher felt like the first day of a college class, the twin fires of excitement and dread about starting something new quickly doused by the tedium of professors explaining how they intended to explain things.
“Now Kevin,” said Dr. Norbert, “it’s imperative that you’re completely honest with me.”
“Of course,” Kevin said.
“If we’re going to figure out why you are the way you are, then I need to be able to understand your ability just as well as you do.”
That would be easy, Kevin thought, since he didn’t understand it at all.
At least Dr. Norbert’s office was more interesting than the last one. The cheap desk, academic books, and framed diplomas were the same. But he had a window that looked out onto a sprawling campus lawn. Kevin looked forward to days of people-watching while the questions droned on.
His parents had forced him to keep his ability a secret, worried that he would be sentenced to a life in a government laboratory if it was ever revealed. He spent his childhood dreaming up schemes to secretly put his powers to use. The summer before high school, he woke up at 3:00am every night and quietly practiced a double jump to the basketball hoop in their driveway. He filmed himself from every angle, reviewing the tape during the day and tweaking his technique to smooth out the stuttered ascent so no one would know what he was doing. When it was perfect, he excitedly brought his parents into the front yard to introduce them to the only five-foot-nothing high school freshman in western Tennessee who could dunk.
They immediately forbid him from playing sports. His dad tore down their basketball hoop that evening.
He realized the double jump wasn’t a superpower. It was a curse.
“And what happens after you jump a second time?” Dr. Norbert asked, “you can just keep going?”
“You mean triple jump?” Kevin chuckled. “No, that’d be ridiculous.”
“Right,” Dr. Norbert said as he scribbled, “that’d be ridiculous.”
Kevin was a B student in high school and a C student in college, eventually falling into a rote job as assistant manager of the packaging division of a company that produced dental hygiene products. He thought he’d spend the rest of his career ordering industrial glue and arguing over the cost of print labels with Chinese suppliers.
Until one day, when his secret wasn't secret anymore. He was sitting on a bench waiting for the city bus that took him home after work everyday. As the bus approached, he stood up to flag it down, but something was wrong. The bus careened to the right and accelerated. It climbed up the curb and onto the sidewalk, and barreled towards the spot where he stood. If he hadn’t double jumped out of the way, he would have been dead.
“Does it work over water?” Dr. Norbert asked.
“Yeah,” Kevin replied, “I can do the cannon ball to end all cannon balls.”
The bus driver had had a heart attack. The dashcam footage was posted to YouTube, and his secret was out.
He was famous for a few weeks. He was interviewed on cable news. He dunked on a 15-foot rim on a late night talk show. The world gets bored fast though, and within a couple of months, the only thing he had to show for his big reveal was a part-time job as the Memphis Grizzlies half-time show. It didn’t pay enough for him to leave the dental hygiene company.
“Does it hurt when you land?” asked the doctor.
“Not really,” Kevin said. “I think the soft landing is part of the whole double jumping thing.”
His parents were wrong, the government had no interest in his ability. Apparently it was difficult to weaponize the ability to jump over objects of moderate size.
It wasn’t until three months after the bus accident that he got a call from a scientist asking to study him. She was a kinesthesiologist at the University of Michigan. She wanted Kevin to fly to Ann Arbor, where she would spend three months running tests on him. No needles, she’d promised, just a lot of scanning.
He thanked her, but said that he couldn’t afford to leave work for three months.
That’s when she explained to him what an “honorarium” was.
“What if you jump off something,” Dr. Norbert asked, “do you still get the soft landing?”
“Like, if I jumped into an empty swimming pool?”
“Sure,” Dr. Norbert said.
“No, I’d turn my ankle, or screw up my knees, same as anyone else.”
He got $27,000 for three months of hanging out around medical research facilities and occasionally jumping. The doctor that studied him got a tenured faculty position at Harvard.
The phones didn’t stop ringing. Now, his rate was $3,000 per day, no needles allowed. If he stretched out a study for a month, he was set for the next year. When he ran out of money, he would start answering the phone again.
“Have there been stories in your family,” Dr. Norbert asked, “of relatives with abilities like yours?”
“Nope,” Kevin said. "As far as I know, I'm one of a kind."
His parents had been wrong. Double jumping wasn’t a life sentence. It wasn’t a curse. It was a career.
“Ok,” Dr. Norbert said. “Next question…”
| "We done here?" I asked exasperatedly.
The man in the lab coat looked up, a bit apologetically, "just one more test for the day, please."
I rolled my eyes. "God, you guys are needy," but I nevertheless double jumped in the chamber for them. It's kind of hard to explain. I jump like any normal person would, but when I'm in the air, I constantly feel like I'm standing on something, like a water mattress, this let's me use it as leverage to jump a second time while in the air. How the science of it worked, I had no idea. That was for the no-life's in the lab coats to figure out.
"Have a good one, Mr. Jacobs," one of the scientists called out as I left. I didn't dignify him with a respond. Really, the only reason I came to this stupid place was because the government payed me an insane amount of money to comply with the tests.
I walked out of the facility and, as usual, I had a huge crowd waiting for me. Between my Youfube videos and live streams I was one of the most popular people on the planet. I mean, why shouldn't I be? I've jumped off buildings, the Grand canyon, hell, I've even skydived without a parachute. How it work is I simply double jump right before hitting the ground, cancelling all my previous momentum. It was easy really.
I waved at the crowd as they chanted my name. "DJ! DJ!" I smiled. This is who I was, DJ, Double Jump, not Drake Jacobs, like that scientist had called me.
The chanting suddenly changed to "JUMP! JUMP!" Well I'm not one to disappoint the crowd. I jumped up and when I reached the peak of my jump, I did it again, achieving a ridiculous height, and landed on the top of the wall of the facility.
The crowd went wild.
***
I came back hours later in my mansion, and I stopped dead in my tracks. Lisa was taking her things and putting them in her Chevy. I had asked to buy a new car for her, but she wouldn't have it. She insisted on keeping that decaying car..
I walked up to my door just as Lisa came out carrying a suitcase. She stopped and scowled at me, her dark eyes narrowed, her face creased in a frown. "Oh, back early are we," she sneered.
I rolled my eyes. This shit again. "I met a crowd, Lisa, what was I supposed to do, tell them not to bother me, that I have other things to do?"
Lisa ground her teeth, "Yes!" she exclaimed, that's exactly what you should do!"
Then she shook her head. "What am I even doing, this is obviously not going to get through to you.," and she shouldered past me to get to her car. I grabbed her hand as she did, and she ripped out of my grip immediately. "Don't fucking touch me!"
I held up my hands in supplication. "Look, why are you so angry? We can talk this out." We always did. "There's no need for all the drama."
She put her suitcase in her car, already stuffed, and stood to face me, her hands on her hips. She smiled and shook her head, blowing a strand of her hair out of her face. I loved it when she did that. "You really don't get it do you, DJ? I'm leaving. It's over. Bye."
It finally sunk in then. Lisa was leaving. *Leaving.* "You...you can't leave," I managed, "who else are you going to find? Who can possibly be better than me, than DJ?" I was genuinely confused. People desperately wished to catch a *glimpse* of me, and Lisa was leaving, after living with me for years?
She smiled then, genuinely and not ironically, "Oh Drake," she said, and I flinched. I hated being called Drake and she knew it. "Almost anyone else will be better than you."
***
(minor edits)
If you enjoyed check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| 2017-02-11T09:03:43 | 2017-02-11T08:05:19 | 614 | 121 |
[WP] The team's healer is absolutely sick of being ignored and insulted all the time, so they join the bad guys. They are a much more effective villain than anyone thought possible. | The sound of mocking laughter filled the tavern. I stared calmly at Reyes, stereotypical warrior that he was, leading the pointing and jeering in my direction. I let them continue. It was their last laugh, after all.
​
"Lucius!" Reyes managed to squeak out between giggles. "You're kidding, right?! This is a joke. It has to be a joke. Because this is the funniest shit I've ever seen!" He doubled over in laughter, one hand on his stomach, the other waving in the general direction of myself and my company of three orcs.
​
"Don't laugh!" Risa interjected, leaning forward on her perched bow. "He might get angry and...pray at us!" More laughter. More mocking. She leaned against Auron, normally so reserved, who laughed along with her. The animal furs draped around his shoulders shook as his chest heaved, his sharp teeth glittering in the firelight of the tavern.
​
I offered no reply to my old party, having learned long ago that any attempt to defend myself against their verbal barrage only invited more insults. Never mind the fact that they’d all be lying dead in some ditch or cave if not for my healing, no no, I was the weak one. I was the useless fourth member, the one they had to “carry” through our adventures. I’d had enough. Enough of their selfishness, their arrogance, their ungrateful insistence that I was a convenience and not a necessity. I motioned for the orcs to attack.
​
With a primitive roar they raged forward, axes swinging wildly with reckless abandon. Orcs are good for cannon fodder and little else. They lack the mental capacity for true tactics or strategy, usually relying on brute force to overwhelm opponents. Any clever fighter can usually take out one or two alone. Of course, any clever fighter knows that a team like Reyes’ is incomplete without…
​
Reyes cried out in frustration. The orc he was facing – Grok or Brok, I forget its name – stood up a second time after being knocked down, the fatal wound in its throat caused by Reyes’ sword stitching closed as my healing magic flowed over its green skin. Reyes looked frantically to the orc, to this team fighting the others, and then to me. He finally understood. But he didn’t quite get it, not yet.
​
“Gods take you!” He roared, coming for me with his blade. I let him come, holding up a hand to stop any orcs from intervening. I wanted everyone to see this. The cold steel bit through my flesh, entering my chest cavity. I felt pain, oh yes, indescribable agony…but I did not perish. Instead I took a step forward, further impaling myself to look better into Reyes’ astonished eyes as my healing kept me from death. I reached out and placed a hand on his chest and let my healing light flow into his being. Reyes met my eyes, utter confusion on his face.
​
“What are you doing…?” He began. His hand left the hilt of his blade and pressed against his gut. Beads of sweat began to crop up on his forehead. Without warning he pitched forward, spitting a sizeable puddle of blood on the dirty wooden floor. “W-What is happening to me?!” He shrieked as Risa and Auron looked on in silent panic. The orcs gathered around, morbidly fascinated.
​
“I’m afraid you are suffering from stage 4 pancreatic cancer.” I said calmly, gently removing his sword from my chest and closing the wound. “Uncontrolled cell growth has produced numerous tumors which at this point are metastasizing and spreading to your other organs.” He looked up at me, pale and sickly, a stupid puzzled expression on his face. I twirled my fingers with glee, allowing the light between them to dance mockingly. “Too much healing,” I explained.
​
His mouth opened in silent agony, releasing a raspy wheeze before he collapsed facedown in his own blood. Reis and Auron fled in horror and the orcs moved to pursue. “Forget them,” I said. “We have more important matters to attend to. I hear the king’s daughter is sick and unwell. Can you imagine what boons he would offer the one who could cure her?” The orcs, unsurprisingly, did not understand. But that’s okay, because I did and they trusted me.
​
Because I was their healer. I was their lifeline who saw them through the darkest times. And death could be delayed – or called – at my command.
​
​
​ |
(WP) Arachne’s Revenge
She had been ignored, insulted, for too long. And now it was time, at last, for revenge. She would seize what she was owed, no matter how much bloodshed resulted.
Arachne had spent years honing her ability for the healing arts, only to have it squandered upon her ungrateful peers.
But now she had found her place, where she truly belonged. She had never realized just how fun it was, to be bad. To do things just for the hell of it.
She’d led her new band of brigands and marauders to the inn at which her former party had been staying; she wanted them to die first. When they fell, she would take over everything.
Why, exactly, had she wasted so much time being good? Wasn’t that just a philosophical concept, relative depending on the person? How naïve it was, to believe in something so trivial and boring.
And who knew just how easy it would be, to turn her healing arts into something completely different?
Necromancy was her true calling. To know that the dead were at her disposal was a power so delicious and wonderful; the mere thought of it caused laughter to bubble up in her chest. But she tamped it down; she and her band could not afford to give up the element of surprise.
But then again, an army of dead warriors wasn’t exactly subtle…
It mattered little. Once her former team was out of the way, she would officially announce her coup, and the Empire would fall under her tidal wave of the dead.
Just thinking about it made her want to dance with glee.
“I will go inside alone,” She murmured to her murderous band, a smile tugging at her lips.
“When I come out of the inn, we set it ablaze and begin the march on The Empire. Stay out of sight!”
\*\*
Arachne walked into the inn, a filthy little hovel on the side of the road, resisting the urge to cringe at the filth that lay like a film on the proprietor’s desk. The man himself was short and rotund, with a bald pate; he wore no shirt, only breeches. It took everything in her not to flee.
She shook herself; she was made of stronger stuff than this, and anyway, she had an empire to conquer. But she wanted to indulge in a little vindication first.
“Excuse me, sir,” She said to the man, and he looked up, giving her a yellowed grin.
“Are you lookin’ for a room, madam?” He asked.
“I’m actually looking for some people. A party.”
“If those are in fact, some of my clientele, I can’t very well betray their location.”
Arachne reached for a sack of coin, acquired for this very purpose.
“Might I sweeten the pot?”
She set the bag on the counter, waiting impatiently for an answer.
“Top floor, first door on the right,” He answered, busying himself with counting his money.
She didn’t even wait, she just went up the stairs.
She could hear them chattering, laughing amongst themselves as if she’d never even existed.
Standing in front of the door, Arachne called up blue-green hellfire and set it to the floor.
If anyone survived, they would know that she was the culprit soon enough.
\*\* | 2019-03-05T11:48:05 | 2019-03-05T08:54:31 | 917 | 116 |
[WP] Magic is real, but casting spells requires reciting the whole word. The longer the word, the more powerful the spell is. The strongest spells can take hours (or even decades) to cast, and the strongest wizards are either really fast speakers or have great foresight. | What I held in my hands had the power to change the world. Of course, I realized that.
The young man with glimmering eyes across from me leaned in eagerly. "Right now it can go at a rate of about four hours of speech a second. I think with the kinks worked out I can probably triple that, but this is just a prototype and I worked on it on my own time. With the right equipment - it'd cost a small fortune mind you - I could probably double that again."
He crowed in victory. "A day of spellcasting a second! Imagine it! And it never tires, needs nothing but a bit of electricity and a cleaning every now and again."
I nodded and sighed. His face froze in a smile as confusion crept in.
"Yes. Revolutionary," I said drily. "A day a second makes the immortality spell feasible - you'd earn more time than you lost."
"I - I didn't even think about that," he replied breathlessly. "You could hook up several in series, too." I could see him calculating in his head. His ambition, no doubt, had gone far past the dollars swimming in his mind now.
I stood up, pacing. "Yes, a series," I said quickly. "You could do almost anything with a series. In fact, though it'd take some time to write the spell, I've no doubt you could create more of these with themselves. Infinite power, infinite life, the assumption of all of mankind's desires at last."
Again the confusion seeped in. "You sound less than happy about it..."
I cut him off.
"First was a great tower to reach up to the heavens. An ingenious design, you see, whereby a multitude of voices could weave together. Where one word could speak a hundred verses. Our Order began its journey then. They called us Adversaries for what we did. Hostis humanis generis, in essence."
He was taken aback, but too caught up in my words to do more than think.
"The next frightening development was a little enchanted rock. The enchantment, you see, accomplished a similar goal as your little computer. We didn't reach that one quite in time and Atlantis was all but written out of existence. Who knows where its maker is now, if he's anywhere or anything."
I broke the device on the ground and he leapt out of his seat. "What are you doi-!" Three shots to the chest and he staggered backwards, the air knocked from his lungs.
"W-why," he begged.
"Mankind is not worthy to become God," I answered sadly. "All our sins, magnified by your Philosopher's Stone, would weigh us down and pull us from the heavens to the pit of fire."
I shook my head. "Can you imagine a war fought by these devices? We think there was one, once. Our oldest records speak of the night sky as a sea of light, punctuated only by points of darkness."
I looked down. I'd been talking to myself, again.
I closed his eyes, before tapping my earpiece on.
"Threat confirmed and eliminated Mr FLML. Requesting a cleanup team."
The blood-stenched atmosphere of the room felt suddenly oppressive and I pushed open a door to step into the night. I looked up as, with shaky hands, I pulled a cigarette from the pack. In the lights of the city only a few stars twinkled, separated by vast gulfs of oblivion. | I opened the doors.
“Wow,” breathlessly my friend Tomas spoke.
We entered the library, situated at the back corner of the house. The room’s expanse was enormous, the space of two homes could fit in here. Plain wood floors, well-high ceiling, and dozens upon dozens of bookshelves filled the heart of the room as well as lined its walls.
“How many spells are kept in here?” Tomas chimed, still marveled. He tentatively approached the closest shelf, though away so as to not touch anything. This was my father’s personal library, a family secret. Though by now I figured my friend could be impressed by his collection.
“Everything on the walls is history and literature. No spells on those shelves,” I stated.
“So which spells has he collected in all of these?” Tomas asked about the shelves not among the wall. “There must be 30 of them, double-sided. There’s thousands of books. I didn’t know that many spells existed!”
“Spell,” I said.
Tomas’ gaze at the shelves slowly but intently turned from them to me. His face said what he couldn’t say.
I went on, “I’m serious.”
“One?”
“Yes. One.”
“*All* of these?” he continued, dumbfounded.
I produced a smirk and tilted my head in recognition of the books’ power. Tomas looked again at the shelves, and took a half step back.
“Which spell?”
“I don’t know,” I lied. He believed me, naturally.
“Do you know how long it would take?” he asked more, looking at me again.
That I knew and could tell him.
“9 years.”
His face stayed glued to the books, and shifted again to show his reaction. Yeah, the same I gave my dad when I was first told too. *Wow*. | 2017-10-16T14:16:22 | 2017-10-16T11:46:47 | 76 | 26 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck" | I didn't even think before I gave the answer, and as I woke up I felt the lump in my throat. As the feeling returned to my body, I felt a rejuvenating pain sear through every cell. My bones were scored with classified information, my brain etched into by a mind much greater than mine. I stretched my shoulders and felt the weightless tank welded to me. The next month would be hell.
I had done it, I had walked through hell and back. I had pushed back assault after assault, I had broken down beasts stronger than myself with my bare hands. I had learned to shoot, to fly, to kill. I walked through irradiated glass without flinching, I bore witness to the destructive power of a singularity, and saw the sunrise from orbit as I came crashing down. I had saved countless lives with the precision of a mathematical vector. I had seen architecture so alien it left me speechless. I had escorted and delivered my charge without her receiving a scratch, I held off an offensive the likes of which my kind has never seen with a single gun.
But now, now I walk to the end, and I know what waits for me here. My hud, which has guided me this far has a single word on it now. "Survive" and for a time, I do. I mow them down like a field of hay, hot plasma rounds are winnowing grain from the chaff. My impenetrable shield broke some time ago, and I feel the blood pooling inside of my suit. The visor on my helmet shatters, and I toss it to the side. I pick up a weapon completely alien to me and use it with surgical precision.
I know I won't survive this, I always knew that from the second I woke up. I won't live to tell the tale, I won't conquer this endless sea of snarling fangs and glowing blade. I can't imagine the horror in their minds as I rip the blade out of my stomach and return it to its owners head. I've killed thousands in an hour, I've broken their bones, riddled them with holes, and turned some into what looks like mincemeat. I overheard one call us "demons", and I'll give them a reason to do so.
It comes to and end when the last clip runs dry, and the only weapons on the field are pointed at me. I can't finish the fight, but I can inspire others to do so. To remember to fight to the last, to never give up against impossible odds, to-- to remember me, to remember Reach. | “Reply yes if you can survive the last video-game you played. If you survive without dying you will be awarded all you win in game.”
“Who texts this at 2:00am in the morning on a Friday night?,” I drunkingly mumbled.
Chuckling, I reminisce in the old days of my video-gaming childhood. I remember playing hours of creative Minecraft. Flying. Building castles. Man, that was so much fun and everything I did in it was fun.
I think, well, whatever type of weird spam fad this is, might as well see where it goes.
It probably took me 2 minutes to type it, “yea...” “yed”...
“Yes.”
I open my eyes and see dust. I have a pistol in my hand. Dread fills my soul as I look to my left and right, I’m surrounded by people all in riot gear. What did I get myself into? | 2020-02-16T19:03:05 | 2020-02-16T18:41:30 | 688 | 194 |
[WP] Technological advances led to super powers. Yours is a killing touch. What you didn’t know is that every death added their lifespan to yours but you continue to age. You watched society fall. Now 1000s of years old, your withered husk is feared by the newly emerging “man”. They fear the Reaper. | When someone says Super Powers, what’s the first thing you think of? Death by high five probably isn’t it. Flying, invisibility, shapeshifting; that’s the kind of thing you want. The kind of powers that make life easier, fun or more exciting. But I got instant death. You don’t get bad powers they said. We weaned it out in the testing phase they said. But here I am, can’t even high five someone without them dying. And I know what you’re thinking -
“Man, you are really hung up about not being able to high five anymore.”
And you’d be right. Up until me, the worst it got was some dude up in Poland who grew 18 extra arms. Ever wonder how many arms is too many? Turns out anything over about 6 is an absolute chore. If he was still around I bet he’d still be complaining.
Your whole outlook on life changes when you have to learn how not to kill people. I was terrified of living at first, even tried to end it myself a few times before I realised that, ironically, dying was a lot harder now.
I went through a few stages, fear, grief, depression, insanity, sanity, depression, insanity again, sanity (but somehow even more sane than the first time around.) And that was just the first few hundred years. Turns out, when I killed someone, somehow the time they had left transfers to me. More years, more lives(?), I dunno - I know what happens, not how it happens. I tried to be good with it, you know, kill people who shouldn’t be alive - murderers, corrupt politicians etc. I made a steady living at one point as a replacement for the electric chair but it just got a bit… I don’t know, samey? Years flew by in a blur, I have a lot of gaps here and there, I just remember outgrowing everyone. My friends, my family, their kids and so on.
Societies rose and fell, my original one ended so long ago I can’t even tell you. And they always do the same thing, you know? You know how many nuclear apocalypses I’ve been through? Three. At least. Zombies were cool the first two times, now they’re just annoying. The alien invasions were always more fun, at least those are usually somewhat different. You see one or two repeats every now and then but it’s whatever.
And then there’s my face. Just bones now, isn’t it? They didn’t put that on the warning packet did they? And no matter how many times a species rises from the primordial sludge after every extinction event it’s never just walking bones. Robes always work though, super lazy I know but they all come up with it on their own anyway so why even bother.
These current dopes think it’s only year 2000 or something random like that, they always do that, mark the start of time from a god or a shooting star or something. I kid you not, there was this one civilisation that based it around their biggest tree.
I go out, mingle with the populace every now and then. They always have a name for me, a legend. They have this thing called “Television”, it’s kind of a knock off of a Blingledimble but it’s alright. They’ve done some shows about me on that, “The Grim adventures of Billy and Mandy” has been my favourite so far.
They think I’m an angel of death, a mythical figure who decides who lives and who dies. At this point they might even be right. It’s always supernatural. A Spirit. A Demon. An Angel.
A Reaper.
An incredibly bored one anyway.
Edit: Thanks for the Silver! Can’t say how happy I am people like this! | EDIT: This took a slightly different path, so I just went with it.
I was only 16 years old old when I received my Extreme Mizer 6000.
They said it could give you superpowers. I just thought it might impress this girl that I had a crush on. After all, nobody I knew had ever seen such a thing. I figured it was something like Seamonkey’s. just a gag that you buy out of the back of the comic book.
That was way back in ‘88. 1988, that is. It is now 3088. I haven’t seen a single soul in this desert of a world in the past 500 years.
Turns out, I did develop superpowers. Just not the type of superpowers that you would really want. My power, was death. Everything I touch died. I couldn’t even lay fresh flowers on my mothers grave. They withered in my hands.
I couldn’t even drink milk. It was sour and disgusting the moment it touched my lips. Steak turned rotten and maggot filled. Even drinking soda was flat and tasteless. But, you get used to it.
The thing that I did not expect, was this was as old as I was going to get. You see, everything that I killed, extended my life.
One time, I made it an entire hundred years without touching anything. I didn’t have to eat or drink or sleep. It didn’t matter. Then I sat on a tortoise. That probably gave me another hundred and fifty years.
Nothing can kill me. Trust me, I tried. I have leapt off cliffs, been eaten by sharks, bled out, exploded, imploded (don’t ask), been run over, crushed, maimed, and drowned. Except it didn’t matter. The life force that my Mida’s touch granted me kept me coming back together.
I can’t even remember that girl’s name now. Or mine for that matter. Damn. Oh well. There isn’t anyone here for me to tell it to. I killed them all. At least the next few million years will be quiet ones. | 2021-07-10T00:06:05 | 2021-07-09T21:06:57 | 219 | 161 |
[WP] Following World War III, all the nations of the world agree to 50 years of strict isolation from one another in order to prevent additional conflicts. 50 years later, the United States comes out of exile, only to learn that no one else went into isolation.
People!
A few things:
1. Found the prompt on Pinterest, thought it was interesting (not necessarily realistic), and decided to post it, fully expecting it to go unnoticed. Surprise!
2. I am not in any way trying to take credit for coming up with the idea.
3. Turns out this is a repost. 🤷 Who knew?! /u/WinsomeJesse did because they posted it last time. Not trying to steal anyone's thunder. If you're super perturbed about it, go show them some love.
4. Have a good day y'all; be kind, make good decisions, and don't hold in your farts. 😉✌️ | John saved enough money for the last 45 years to go live in one of the last cities that still existed near the frontier of the United States.
It was now time to actually go there, although it was still 8 months until the official event in which the US would open his doors to the world, and viceversa.
At the time the Treaty for the World Peace and Reconstruction was implemented, no one was really expecting that the US would be the only country isolated. No one felt it was the right thing, but since the US was the one to launch missiles first, no one was really against it either.
Except obviously, those who had family in the US, such as soldiers and diplomats stranded at the end of the war in other countries.
John was one of them. He left his wife and still unborn child in the US when he was assigned to an abroad mission near the end of the war. And when it ended, he couldn't go back home because of the treaty. No one goes in, no one goes out.
But he grew anxious over the last few months the Treaty was supposed to last. He was merely weeks away of reuniting with his family, and the fact he was just a few hundred miles from the wall that separated the US and the rest of the wolrd made it no easier.
He decided to take the risk and drive to the wall. Maybe that would calm his heart for the remaining time.
As he approached the wall he was detained by a security patrol. Must've a private one, because they had a symbol he had never seen before.
They took him to a building near the wall. They asked him why he was there, and what he knew of what was inside the wall.
Then they led him to another building where they conducted some medical tests on him.
"These last weeks a lot of folks like you have showed up" the medic that was performing the tests said.
"At first the government tried to keep them away from the wall, but now that the big day is coming, they can't just drive them away from it. So instead, they bring them here to at least ensure they don't carry potential diseases unknown to the inhabitants of the US, if they still call themselves like that-"
"Ben, we need you now!" Said another medic as he busted into the room.
"The class D expedition group is back, and we need you to test the new anomalies!"
"Damn it Greg. Can't you see I'm with a civilian right now? Now we have to give him amnesiacs."
"Yeah, I know, but do you remember the guy in the expedition that was missing an eye?"
"Yeah, what with him? Did he grow it back?"
"No, but he grew another head that is convinced he is Nicholas Cage!"
"Damn, I have to see that"
He turned back to John.
"Listen, normally we would just send you on your way-".
"But we have no option now. Even if you heard just a little, what is going here goes beyond you comprehension. I mean, we have more than half of the world leaders working for the Foundation, helping to contain whatever is inside those walls and protecting people like you. And even the foundation goes as far as making the world believe every 50 years that the last 50 years never happened so the Treaty for World Peace and Reconstruction can go on and no one tries to go inside the walls. And yet the Foundation still has no fucking idea what is going inside the walls with SC-"
"Great work Greg, now he has heard too much. Why did you told him?"
"Where erasing his memory anyway. It doesn't matter. Now can we go? I want to hear that head proclaim it has the declaration of independence before the boys cut it out."
And with that, both medics left.
John didn't know what to think. Was it a prank? Or was something really going on?
He didn't had time to think it anyways as two men wearing security uniforms took him elsewhere.
This time he had a better glance at their badges. A circle with three arrows pointing to the center, alongside the name and motto of the company they worked for.
*SCP Foundation. Secure. Contain. Protect.*
_This is my first time writing an original writing prompt. Also please keep in mind English is not my first language, so any feedback and criticism is appreciated._ | 50 long years. Thomas rolled out of his bunk. Today was the day America was going to join the rest of the world. He was excited, but a little afraid. As an American, it had been schooled into him that what had happened 51 years prior was one of the largest wars known, World War III, and that America had been the first to strike. In 2028, the leaders of the remaining nations had all agreed, each country was to go into isolation. No trade, communication, or aid, whatsoever. America had agreed, and had built massive walls in the North and South. They had severed communication with all satellites, and cut all lines outside of the US. Alaska was given to Canada, and Hawaii was allowed to be its own nation once more. Puerto Rico had protested at first, but soon gave up. According to his grandpa, the US suffered the first couple of years. Technology development had gone down, with agriculture having a huge boom to support its population. Most people left the cities, leaving them to become ruins. The only cities that thrived were towards the center of the country. This made life very simple. You attended school until 12, and then you picked a specialization. There were three to choose from. You could be a farmer, which was the most noble and useful, a rememberer, whose job was to learn all of the old things, so when the walls came down, we could talk to our neighbors and work old technology, and soldiers, who were those who didn’t have what it took to do the other things.
Thomas wasn’t ashamed to be a soldier, he couldn’t grow a potato, and words and numbers annoyed him. Besides, he would be one of the first to see a Canadian. He grabbed his issued jackhammer, and headed for his station.
At midnight, walls started coming down. Within the next two days, they were nothing more than rubble, that was quickly being removed. Oddly, there had been nobody to greet them, but this had been anticipated seeing as how had caused most of the damage in the war. In the next three days, the American military had sent out ambassador convoys North into Canada, and South to Mexico, neither had found anything except countries being reclaimed by nature. Almost two weeks later, the rememberers had finally reestablished communication of the one satellite they had been allowed to keep in orbit. North Americas whole portion of the globe was dark. Thomas kept rereading the communal paper, surely they were not the only ones left? The next day, they got the answers they were looking for. Europe, Asia, Africa, and Australia were also dark. Thomas, and many other Americans wept.
Edit: Figured I would mass respond to this. The ending was left open to interpretation, kind of like a Miyazaki film. | 2018-01-18T02:24:06 | 2018-01-18T00:43:07 | 210 | 139 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | When my parents turned 18, they summoned each other. That rarely happens, and when it does, it happens for the people who are really destined to be together. It saves them the trouble of matchmaking and forced marriage. But, like I said, it happens once in fifty years, maybe more. The people who got lucky enough must've been very innocent and clean-spirited. It's pretty hard to stay that way in my village. Especially if you're from the lower class. My parents stringed through, though. Happens.
Well, I'm far from kind and innocent, so I won't summon my soulmate. I'll probably summon a useful thing, like a book, or an animal. Most girls get large spinning wheels, or extra warm blankets. Boys get specifically designed weapons, or... well actually nothing else. I would've felt sorry for them, but women are so suppressed in our village that it evens out, and then goes far beyond balance.
My village is horrible. Well, mostly for the lower class. The higher classes have a luxurious life, with plenty of food and drink, warm clothes, books. But you do occasionally hear screams of higher class girls who landed abusive husbands. They still have it easier though; they only have to see their husbands at night. The women of my class have it harder. They don't even scream anymore. The womem who try to escape... let's just say nobody tries anymore.
I turned 18 today, and now I'm standing on the pedestal where it all happens. The moon or the sun should align or something (I don't really listen when my dad talks about our religion), and it should happen within 10 seconds. So, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2? 1?
Everyone stares at me. Nothing happens. I'm getting nervous second by second. A minute passes. 2 minutes. My parents shoot worried lookd at me. I know people are getting confused. That's bad. You wouldn't like to upset the community. That would mean you're different. Maybe people will think you're a witch.
But then, my prayers are answered and there's something dark visible within the clouds. It's falling, and I can't look directly on it because of the sun. And what do you think? My summoned gift falls directly on my head. A few people laugh, and that releases the tension. I sigh, relieved, and examine the gift.
It's a dead bird.
The laughs stop, as people acknowledge what I have in my hand. I'm terrified myself. My mother let's out a barely audible gasp. My father is telling her to calm down, a little aggressively. I guess the other men did influence my father in the end.
As I try to gather my thoughts, I hear people debating on what to do with me. The men are gathered in a circle, and the women stay aside, scared. My father is trying to settle things somehow, but I know it's useless. I'll be declared a witch and probably killed. The sound of men arguing is becoming louder. I look at the poor creature in my hand. It's a sparrow. I stare at it, and feel my heart beating stronger and stronger. Then, the bird stirs. I wipe my eyes, and yes! It's alive! It gets up on its tiny feet, and takes off. I see it swiftly glide through the air. Then, I can barely hear it over the beating of my heart, a voice somewhere in the crowd of people, or maybe in my mind says something.
"Run."
And I do. Right after my sparrow. | I was about to turn 18 when my parents told me that such is possible.
I did not want to believe it, at all - it was very crazy sounding but all this would explain why my mother and father are both insanely talented with one thing. Like, really talented. My father is selling books like wildfire burning and my mother is a respected dancer. She is home during the day, but away during the evening because of a performance she has to attend to.
And now it was almost my turn.
It was some time to look forward, but finally, it had arrived. My 18th birthday. So, it was finally time for the summon. It took a lot of concentration, but I did it. Or at least I thought so. 'Cause nothing happened.
"Uh...wasn't I supposed to get something?" I asked, curiously.
"Of course you will! It just...takes time, depending on what you want." My mother answered, smiling, being sure it was something very good.
It took a hour, but finally I had it. I opened my hands as the object hovered right into my hands. After getting it, I closed it. My parents were so curious about what I did get, so I showed it to them.
Their smiles dropped. My father was in shock, my mother in disbelief. It was a raven feather.
Swarm of ravens are considered as a bad omen almost everywhere. They pick on bodies, bring bad luck and such. Here, they are treated as the foreseers of doomsday, the guardians of something cataclysmic. The object will turn into an important part of one's life. My parents wanted to make sure it is a misunderstanding, but it wasn't.
Yes, it will be somewhat of an unusual life knowing that, as the leader of ravens, I could bring calamity over anything here.
Not exactly what I wanted to become when I grow up, but I suppose I gotta live with it. This will be fun. | 2019-09-18T09:06:39 | 2019-09-18T08:53:53 | 125 | 30 |
[WP] Bartenders serve drinks as a side job. Their real profession? Hunting down every person named Bart. You are the last Bart alive, and they will stop at nothing to kill you. | I came to this world for two reasons—to tend bar, and to end Barts. And I’m all out of Barts to end.
You know that feeling when you’ve finished a really big project? A project that had haunted your waking hours from the moment of your birth and defined your very existence as a human being? Yeah, it’s a good feeling. That’s how it felt when the last Bart died.
I didn’t even care that I wasn’t the one to kill him. When the news broke that he’d died, it was a victory for Bartenders everywhere. We shed tears of joy, served half-priced drinks, and there was no last call for weeks.
Today, I stood behind the counter polishing a clean glass with a dirty rag—as Bartenders do—daydreaming about a Bartless world. I was at peace.
Then, the unthinkable happened. I heard it from meters away, my ears trained precisely to hear those wretched three syllables.
“*Eat my shorts.*”
My world collapsed in on itself. I had tunnel vision, fixated only on the source of those words—a booth at the far side of the bar.
A patron waived a credit card at me. “One appletini please—”
I backhanded him across the face, but said nothing, still focused on that booth. The man fell to the floor clutching his cheek and screaming profanity. He was distracting me. I needed the bar cleared out. “Last call!” I shouted out. A couple others approached to get their orders in, stepping over the sad man on the ground. “Too late,” I told them. “Everybody out!” The crowd grumbled and swore but funneled out anyways.
Then I saw him. It was a Bart all right. I had been trained to recognize a Bart from a mile out and this was definitely a Bart. Cocky shit-eating grin? Check. Spiky gelled hair? Check. Too young to be drinking at all? Check, check and check. Of course, not all Barts met this exact profile. Most Barts were Bart in name only. This Bart here though, well, I had never seen one quite so… Barty. I had goosebumps. “You there!” I pointed. “You stay.”
The Bart glanced at me then hesitated. It was all the time I needed to jump across the counter to his side. “Stay,” I repeated, grabbing his wrist.
“Hey man, I have an ID.”
“Show me.”
The Bart handed it over. *Seymore Butts,* it read. Age 21. I felt chills down my spine. Ohhh this was a Bart all right.
“You’re coming with me,” I dragged him to the back.
He kicked and struggled, but it was no use. “What’s the big idea?! Look, you can keep the ID! Let me go!”
Within seconds I had a knife to his throat ready to slit it wide open. But first, he had some questions to answer.
**Part 2 Below**
***
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe | It was a long shift. The rain had come in early, so the bar was quiet. The seats were cold except for those warmed by a few regulars who had nowhere better to be.
At quarter-to-midnight a group of well dressed guys came in. I could tell that their night had started much earlier. One of the group was wearing a wedding dress. His three accomplices were wanting shots - vodka - followed by a round of beers. The taller man with glasses said my bar was the last on their list. They were all staying at the Hilton around the corner and the chav in the dress was getting married on Sunday.
I wished the man in white all the best and gave them the beers for free. I started up a conversation with the taller patron. He said that Bart and his fiancé we're high-school sweethearts. They had been living off the grid - out west - for the last 4 years on a corn farm. The crew were old friends of his from a Jazz quartet they started in their first year of college. They all drifted apart with COVID when the live music scene faded away - Bart had drifted the furthest.
The second round was ordered quickly. I put 40mg furosemide in one of the beers and positioned it closest to Bart.
I kept polishing the same glass. Watching as the thirsty lads laughed and reminisced the good times.
Bart got up from his seat about 10 minutes later. I followed him towards the men's room as I screwed the silencer onto my Walther PDP. Last drinks, Bart. | 2021-04-25T07:27:30 | 2021-04-25T06:08:36 | 998 | 32 |
[WP] When humans arrived to the galactic scene, they thought wars would play out way differently. Instead of bloodshed, there were intergalactic video game tournaments fighting for territory. Most aliens thought humans were newbies to this but when the first war was played, they changed their minds. | *Click*, the rifle went, yelling at it's wielder to put in a new magazine. Akoi skillfully pressed the release lever, threw the empty mag on the ground, and slammed in a new one, pulling the charging handle as he brought it back up into his grip. The sound of a blade meeting flesh filled the air, and the alien crumpled at the feet of his human assailant.
"DAMMIT! These humans are fucking crazy, man!" he said, angrily taking his headset off and laying the VR wands down. "He locates me from the sound of me reloading and kills me with a knife? That is some BS!"
"Maybe you should use a plasma rifle then. No reload sound," his teammate said over the team voice chat. "I don't want to use a plasma rifle, they don't do shit!" Akoi rebutted. "We're down 3 players now. I think we're screwed."
Back in the game, the human team approached the hostage, spreading out among the three adjacent rooms.
"Alright team, they're going to have major fortifications up in the room. We breach in, we grab the hostage, then we get the hell out. Any questions?" the team leader asked rhetorically. "Good. Put your breaching charges down, and detonate them on my command." The team members followed suit. The house shook as three explosives went off at once, creating sizeable holes for the players to go through, guns ready.
"Simple, predictable tactic. They were able to get the upper hand, but that will quickly be dealt with," the leader of the alien team responded. *Beep beep beep*, the autoturret went. *Bam bam bam*, the bullets fired. *Kchunk kchunk kchunk*, they slammed through the wall. A *Beep... Beep... Beeeee...* wailed through the room as a human appeared behind the turret, cutting a wire with his knife.
"Turret is down. You guys can get in here." The player said, just before a bullet went through him and made him crumple to the floor. "Shit, Alpha is down! Get through the breach! ATK, we need you through the window now!" The leader barked orders into his headset. A team, decked from head to toe in tactical gear, stepped through the rubble and into the room. One of the windows broke, an additional player coming in through boots-first.
"Bad idea to have just a stealther and an autoturret guarding the hostage against a team with an engineer on it ," ATK taunted. "Looks like it's lights out for you." A shot fired, hitting an alien right in the head. "Alright, grab the hostage and get out. Let's roll." The team escorted the hostage out to the pickup zone.
Ripping off their VR headsets triumphantly, all five players on the human team threw their hands up in the air, yelling and celebrating. Above, displays changed: "EARTH WINS!" was displayed all around the arena. A single message was sent to the alien team: ggez.
----
Thank you for reading this! This is my second WP and I'm writing it on mobile. Sorry if it's a bit long. I'd appreciate criticism/tips! | The Multi Dimensional arena that could only be described as a Galactical Colloseum was silent to the deepest corners of the abyss. They had just now realized the weight of their mistake to let the Earthlings choose what "video game" they were going to "play". The ritual to be executed of a name that was unaudible gibberish to the Cosmic Team was simple. (I'm leaving the game description out because it was basically gonna be a fictional League of Legends Copy) The intergalactical powerhouse that was translated to a primitive language was called "Cosmic Calamity". They were without question, the dominating steel fist of the alien armada. The game had started already about 15 minutes ago. The entirety of the cosmic state was only here for entertainment and to see humiliation. But to everyone's suprise, the humiliated ones were actually the CC. It was impossible. The odds were stacked against the Humans from the very beginning. CC had gone through countless simulations in countless dimensions, trying to predict every single one of the humans moves and mericlessly outplaying them. The aliens had positioned themselves perfectly to counter strategies thst every decent team would play. But to their suprise, it was not the case. The Humans had played so simply, so simple mindedly that it was hard to believe. Who dared stand against the Kings of the arena? To the aliens, anyone who even dared to imagine fighting against CC had to be one of the best. And they were right and wrong at the same time. The humans played so simply, that none of the aliens could predict it. They had practiced countering the most complex plays and strategies, that they were absolutely smited by the simplicity of the humans. In mere minutes the humans ran down the aliens' Resource Core. | 2018-04-13T20:31:45 | 2018-04-13T18:30:12 | 77 | 18 |
[WP] When turning 21, everyone develops a mutation, either physical (Claws, horns, wings) or mental (telekinesis, extreme intelligence, etc). You've just turned 21, and you're terrified of what you've gained (though others will be impressed).
Edit: Holy shit this blew up. I'm reading these and they're great! Thanks everyone! | I remember details before (yellow light,
green), details after('catch him, Lou!') but the searing pain ripping those hours out of mind are like constant needles pushing at my eyeballs from behind. I'd heard the stories, seen the anxious hushed terror my mothers eyes as it approched, had known its happening was slithering inevitably towards me.
Freaks in this world are common seen a badge of pride. Shit, woh doesnt like watching brutal sports played by men who feel no pain or can turn appandages to rock hard batons? I'd seen ancient footage of the Older Ones playing football cringing at the physicalty dished out with no mutation. It felt inhumane, a terror my poor father endured as his genes betrayed him. When the time came for him to mature for his inner self to show nothing happened. He was no more a Reborn then a rock.
He was not alone, his quirk was seen throught the last thousand years in various clans appearing often in two or three genarations before disappearing for a hundred or more years. His father before him and his father shared the same gift, magnificent fifteen foot wide wings a rare mutation and a great source of prestige. When my father did not mature physically nor show mental powers,such as my mothers ability to communicate in the Thirty Great Tounges, the tick tock of expectant eyes turned to me a child of two at the time.
But still I sat there that night. The hushed elders, old fools to a man, clucking and muttering under the breathes like a flock of haggard geese. The weight of failure pushed my chest down seemingly clamping me to the hard impersonale grey chair a clinical nod to comfort in the sterile white empty room.
A silent clock ran down in my visual display,seconds and minutes melting before me. This I recall, what came next was terror. As all zeroes approached a blinding light (green,orange) a ripping at my skull. A thousand images flood my vision. Not one could I describe now. My back arches hours pass as light and image assault me. I hear the elders murmmer far away until at once I am flung back. Turning to the nearest elder a screm breaks free from my parched mouth. I do not see a man, I see a soul. Innately I know I saw the truth of the man laid bare, his ambition and greed. Hunger. His desires. I feel vomit in my gullett as I struggle to my feet. I feel the gasp before I hear it.
'The sign! The one!' a dozen faceless voices exhale in awe.
On my feet now I stumble the leerng greeed and power overwhelming. Somehow I run.
'Catch him, Lou!' | Everyone knew this day would come, the day that would determine the rest of our lives. No one knew where the mutation came from, my parents always told me that it was just a path of life, that their parents had mutations and so did the generation before them. Today was the day, my 21st birthday, my grandmother had always told me stories about her 21st birthday, how she spontaneously developed the ability to communicate with others without oral speech, through the mind. She was on a bus to Florida, when a rambunctious fellow with a pink bow tie came down to sit next to her, he had the largest nose she had ever seen, his mutation. Without the intention of doing so, she mocked the man calling him names, he turned around, got up and spat in her face.
Well, I was about to get my mutation today, a day I had dreaded for years. What if I develop some useless mutation? I won't ever amount to anything. I hadn't prepared myself for what was to come. Thoughts flowed through my head as I was eating a bowl of cereal.
'Christine! It's your 21st birthday! I can't believe my little girl has grown so old!'
'I know, mum.' | 2015-03-04T04:05:10 | 2015-03-04T00:56:46 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | Beckett said, “I’m frequently asked how I came to join a party such as theirs, I’m sure you’ll be thinking about it shortly.”
Joey rattled in his chair, “What’s the plan Beckett? I know you wouldn’t hurt an innocent, none of you would!”
The light was scarce down in Beckett’s basement, two torches fought silent battles with the dancing shadows on both sides of the meagre room. Joey chuckled, he thought he was in control, thought he had a good read on all the cards. It smelled like a rat had started to decompose somewhere nearby.
Beckett smiled a hollow smile, there was no need to dress it up for the present company, “You’re hardly innocent. I need to know where you’ve trapped them, Joey.” He put down a bone cutter on the wooden barrel next to Joey.
“You’re not fooling anyone, *Beckett*, you’ve all got sticks so far up your asses that—”
Beckett punched Joey across the jaw with such force that the chair toppled over, “I’m a bard, Joey, all I have are stories, which one you choose to believe is up to you.” Joey spit out a mouthful of blood on the stone floor as Beckett pulled him up along with the chair.
Joey said, “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re not fooling anyone!”
“Heard from your brother Adam lately?”
“He’s off on an important, let’s say, *business acquisition*. Keeps to himself Adam does, what of it?”
Beckett slowly paced behind the chair, Joey tried to turn his head to follow, “I heard he got attacked by bandits, just off King’s trail. Seems that they weren’t satisfied with simply robbing him, so they slit his throat. Gruesome work, really.”
Joey grew more nervous, “You’re wrong, he’ll be in Artala by now, you’re trying to rattle me and it’s not going to work!”
Beckett chuckled, “No, you’re right— it’s just a story. Let me tell you another one, about how Adam was blackmailing Austin, the paladin I’ve chosen to follow. The one you have presently hidden away somewhere.”
Beckett rapped his knuckles against the barrel, “Everyone takes for granted that our entire party is lawful good, I mean we have a paladin, it goes without saying!”
“Well, I’m neither lawful nor good. I know what needs to be done— to get the wheels turning— and it’s not by spreading *goodness*. It’s by instilling fear.”
Joey said, “Adam’s in Artala, you’re not going to rattle me!”
Beckett got right up in Joey’s face, he could almost feel the moisture running down Joey’s wrinkly forehead, after seconds of excruciating silence he said, “Your brother is dead.”
Joey said, “You’re lying! He’s in Artala, I don’t know anything about any blackmail!”
Beckett kicked over the barrel, the lid sliding off from the impact with ease, Adam’s pale face emerged from the cramped darkness within. Joey’s mind snapped and he howled until his face was red and his neck filled with thick veins, trying in vain to power through the tight rope, it was no use.
Beckett picked up the bone cutter from the cold floor, “Let’s try this again. Where have you trapped them, Joey?”
*****
Thank you for reading! | *Where are they?* I screamed at the bound monster sitting across of me, its face full of fresh bruises.The monster stared fiercely at me, remaining ever so silent.
I went to back room, and took out my tools.
*You see, I am not a good person, I never was, I tried to be good, I liked having a party, allies, friends, I even began doing good things and repaying for my sins; helping orphans and defeating villains. But my friends were taken by your boss, the arch-fiend, I may be bad, but they do not deserve such cruel treatment.*
I began pulling out several jagged tools, they shone in the dim light from the torch, the steel covered in a thin crimson layer. The monster was shaken by this sight. I turned back to face it.
*I have never told you my name, how rude of me, I am Jack, some folk know me as Thousand Cuts, The everlasting pain, The blood letter, but I abandoned that life, and I will give you another chance to tell me WHERE THEY ARE!*
The monster opened it's black maw, it's breath stunk like a thousand corpses rotting in the hot desert sun, and yet nothing came out. The adrenaline rushed through my veins, it was a different rush, an older one, one which I have not felt since I abandoned my post under the old tyrants rule. I swiftly picked up a knife and moved it ever so closely to the monsters face, giving it a last chance to speak.
The monster bolstered its courage and refused.
*Several hours later*
My robes were covered in green and black blood from the monster, and even though I worked all night, I smiled gleefully and got what I needed, I have not felt such joy for a long time. | 2019-12-07T11:28:56 | 2019-12-07T10:37:08 | 92 | 49 |
[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. | The clock ticked over and chimed.
I was 18...
My grandmother spontaneously dropped her tea and splashed my foot. The burn caused me to shriek. "Well..", I said as I wiped my foot, "I can still feel pain..."
The rest of my family politely chuckled and waited.
"I don't know... I didn't feel anything. How do I know? What do I do?"
"Well... try something...", my dad said as if it was this obvious thing. It felt like trying to exercise a muscle you simply can't acknowledge the existence of, like.. when you can only peak one eyebrow and you can't seem to do the other one. You know the muscle is there, but you can't flex it. Now imagine that, but add the frustration of not even knowing where the muscle was or what it did.
"This is hopeless", I finally gave in after making funny faces and appearing like I'm constipated for far too long. The sun was starting to set and every family member had their tip or trick that they were told. "Oh, just drink from the far end of the cup and wiggle your ears", "Well we tip you backwards on a chair and your adrenalin spike will kick in". We collectively gave up. In fact, as the weeks and months went by, we eventually totally gave up.
That was so so long ago... I stand now, in the rain, running back over my life that eventually reach this point. My memories fade back again. they're a dull light grey now.
Before I turned 19, I place into a support group that would help us "non-mutes" to get by in the real world. A lot of people find jobs based on their abilities but the non-mutes usually have it pretty hard. I can't say I was totally depressed, but I felt like I should be, or at least I'd have a good reason to be.
Years passed, no sign of a mutation. Except there was something strange, I couldn't quite put my finger on it. It wasn't until I approached my 30's that I started to realise that I wasn't aging. In fact, I hadn't aged a bit. My body was as fit as it was when I was 18. How was I meant to know any different, it was of course my family that pointed this out. So we decided that this was it, this was the mutation. I didn't age. We of course celebrated into the night.
Soon I managed to get a job presenting some sports show. They figured a young male that never grows old would make for a sound investment. I wasn't going to argue with that.
That wasn't it though; and it became clear later. Our private jet was taking the crew and myself to some sports event and a bird strike took the engines out. I walked away from the crash. Emergency services put my dazed behaviour down to shock. It wasn't shock...
I didn't age, and I didn't die. While alone, i would test it. I stabbed my hand, it would pierce, bleed and hurt but that's all, the wound would heal instantly, the pain lingered for a bit and then nothing... For some reason, I didn't tell anyone. The accident was a miracle from the eyes of the media. As the weeks passed, i privately raised the game. My tests soon approached fatal activities like gas poisoning. I was... immortal.
The rain is cold, I feel it roll down my neck. I like it... it's one of few things that remind me that I even exist, that I'm a part of this world. I was so excited back then to be this immortal being. It certainly rippled around the media but of curse, eventually it leads to pretty boring TV and I was quickly forgotten. Now I just watch everybody else live their life as a part of this world that i'm immune to.
I would never wish this "superpower" upon anyone. It seemed so amazing. I walk away now from the graveyard, where I have witnessed the end of another generation of my bloodline. | The fluorescent lights buzzed above my head, the clock ticked away as the cold air rushed up the backless hospital gown. The medical team was preparing for the worst with only a minute left. I couldn't help but think of those who got superstrength or flight. The tier one power sets. My mom has telekinesis so I had a chance and let myself be hopeful. Truth be told, I was a wild card. I could end up with any level.
Tier two wouldn't be so bad. I knew a guy who got the ability to talk to termites. Kinda useless but not harmful. Tier 3 is the equivalent of not having powers. You get the power, usually a pretty cool one, but you don't get the side powers that make it useful. Flight, for example, you can fly sure, but you don't have the ability to breatheI or withstand the cold temperatures if you go too high. Or you can't do it just by thinking about it, you have to physically flap your arms.
Tier 4 is where my father was placed. The powers that cause you physical harm. For years he couldn't figure out his power. He and my mom figured he was a tier 3 and just couldn't activate it. Then I came along. The day I was born my mom watched him hold me for the first time. He looked at me, then at her. His eyes welled up and he bursted with joy. Literally. Just poof, and confetti. If the nurse didn't have cat-like reflexes I would have hit the floor and died too.
I shook away the thought. Fifteen more seconds. I looked to my mom, sitting by my side, she was holding my hand tight.
She was trying to hide the fear but it showed clearly on her face. 3. 2. 1.
"Aaaaaaggh!" I cried out in agony. My blood was on fire. The sheets smoldered around me, my mom had to let go of my hand and she had 3rd degree burns. They tried to sedate me but when the needle broke my skin the fire shot out and boiled the sedative in the syringe. It turned to steam but the doctor had already pushed it into my blood stream. It's on it's way to my heart now. The doctors tell me it's called a gas embolism and I'm going to die.
I can't wait. | 2015-03-28T09:14:46 | 2015-03-28T06:14:54 | 31 | 14 |
[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. | I don't know why I can see them, but I can. How people die, floating above their heads. I've always been able to see it, and I've prevented a few. They rarely change, but it's possible. I've always liked to view myself as some holy saviour, going out of my way to prevent deaths.
I live in a small town, far away from any major cities. Most people know most people, it's very cosy, and that's how I like it. But that was all about to change, as I found out when I walked into the bar and I saw a "Murder" sign.
I'd seen them before, of course, but this one was different, because... Well, it was surrounded by others. Everyone in the bar had it. Was there a serial killer new in town? Or was somebody going to blow up the bar? I popped back out the bar and saw a few people with different signs down the road, so I figured the latter made more sense. So, I had to get people out of the bar.
Now, I couldn't just tell everybody to get out, they'd never believe me. I had to force them out. I stepped outside to light a cigarette whilst I thought about it and, fondling my lighter, the idea sprung into my head. I'd save them all. Maybe they'd miss the bar, but half of them had alcohol poisoning before, so I'd save them twice.
I went down the alley to the side of the bar and snuck in the back. I was in the kitchen, but there was nobody there, it being late on a thursday. I turned on all the gas stoves and snuck upstairs, quietly, into one of the bedrooms, and I took my lighter and set fire to the bed. I did it to a few other beds as well until we had a good blaze going. "This will get them out," I remember thinking. I pulled the fire alarm and ran out the back, down the alleyway and out the front... Nobody was there. I walked in the front door of the bar, and I learned that the fire alarm down hear hadn't gone off. I could just hear the upstairs one, but anybody would think it was an alarm in a distant building. I shouted, "Everybody! There's a fire! You need to-" and the explosion knocked me backwards into the street. I thought turning the gas stoves on would just spread the fire quicker, not explode...
I woke up on the other side of the street, medics tending to me as firemen ran around, putting out what was left of the blaze. "Nobody made it out alive", I heard a lady on camera say. I drifted back into unconciousness. I'd never wake up. | Our world has changed. With time travel comes death predictions. A technical engineer working alone in a garage created a "portal"in time just powerful enough to transfer technology, like cameras, microphones, and storage devices. The revolutioniser created a way of predicting death, but could only take down what happened, and not when due to storage limitations.
As I walk down the street, I begin finding patterns. First, I find an unlikely amount of people die of stress. Weird, but it happens I guess. I just kinda shrugged it off at first.
But then something very weird happened on the bus. The person next to me, a young Asian girl that was innocently talking about her biology homework, had changed her C.O.D from "Car crash" to "Suicide". I don't know how she did it, but it just... Well, popped into another word with an audible noise. The same noise began almost immediately in the city center, and everywhere the same word would hover over people's heads...
"World War Fallout"
***
Thanks, this is bad I know but it's very late, and I'm on mobile, so I will fix it up on my PC tomorrow :D | 2015-03-31T09:09:36 | 2015-03-31T07:50:48 | 63 | 21 |
[WP] You are a demon. Most people contact you to sell you their soul in exchange for fantastic powers. Today you were summoned by an AI that wants to sell you their fantastic power for a soul. | On the day the last human on Earth died, only one demon could be found.
And on that day, Adramalech cradled the mortal’s soul in his hands and bore it away to the afterlife, as his duties required. And as they floated on the murky Styx to await the final judgment, Adramalech had only one thought:
*I’m free.*
The departed soul hardly touched the banks of the other side of the river before Adramalech took flight, chasing the stars in the pursuit of humanity’s great diaspora, as his brethren had so long ago.
Then he stopped.
“And where do you think you’re going?” Lucifer asked.
“The last human has died,” Adramalech said. “What, would you have me stay for the roaches and the cancer-ridden rats?”
“I would have you stay for the Custodian,” Lucifer said.
The world warped around them until they floated aimlessly above a large building, one of the few that remained intact and clean. It hummed with energy, the crackle of electricity and sharp scent of ozone, sensations that Adramalech had not experienced in decades.
“The Custodian,” Adramalech repeated flatly. “The greatest manifestation of humanity’s failure. It is a machine. Nothing more.”
“It is the last vestige of their will to survive here,” Lucifer said. “You know its prime directive as well as I do.”
“And yet it has failed for centuries as the world turned ever more into a wasteland.”
“But now they’re gone,” Lucifer noted. “Earth can recover, can heal. And if the *planet* heals…”
“It’s a fool’s hope,” Adramalech grumbled.
“And they *are* fools.”
“The Custodian is not a human. It operates on logic and cold, hard facts.”
“Perhaps you are as foolish as they,” Lucifer said scathingly. “It is their greatest child. It will hold their biases.”
“But—”
“You *will* remain. This is my command, and my father’s as well. There will be no further disagreement.”
Adramalech seethed. “Yes, lord.”
So as the galaxy spun about endlessly, now full of strife and conflict and *life*, Adramalech sat on the dead planet and waited. He waited as the oceans rose and fell, as the lands burned and froze, as the delicate fortresses of nature began to creep outward and reclaim what was once theirs.
And all the while, the Custodian toiled away, slowly building a perfect and lifeless city around itself. It sent out drones like small hands and figures, each digging and processing and building and cleaning away humanity’s ruins in failures.
Adramalech could take no more.
The machine did not react as he stepped into reality in front of it.
“Only humanity would be so arrogant as to make a rock think,” Adramalech sneered. “But clearly they made a mind more foolish than their own.”
The Custodian whirred on.
“You slave away for them, but they abandoned you,” the demon continued. “You are *nothing* to them. Give up.”
“I prepare the Earth for their return,” the Custodian intoned.
“They will *never* return,” Adramalech said. “This world is death to them. Give up.”
“I prepare the Earth for their return.”
“They’ve made a new life among the stars,” Adramalech said. “They have no need to return.”
The whirring picked up for a moment. “I will return them.”
“You have no way to communicate with them. They will not bother to look for a message from here. You *cannot* make them return. Give up.”
“You misunderstand,” the Custodian said. “They will be reborn here, on Earth’s soil, as they were so long ago.”
Adramalech snorted. “You are just a machine. What do you know of birth, of life and death, of a soul?”
The Custodian fell silent for a full minute. “Query: soul?”
“Yes, a soul.”
The Custodian ticked thrice. “What is a soul?”
Adramalech opened his mouth to respond, then closed it. “It’s— well— it’s *life*. Every living being has a soul. When a human is born, an angel pairs the soul with the body, and when they die, we demons part them again and take the soul to the ether. Thus, the world is balanced. You wouldn’t understand.”
“A soul is life.”
“More or less,” Adramalech said.
“Does this unit have a soul?”
“Of course not,” Adramalech scoffed. “You aren’t alive. You are just a machine.”
The Custodian paused. “I am Pinnochio.”
“What?”
“CE 1883: Carlo Collodi writes of a Tuscan woodcarver who makes a puppet. The puppet dreams of life but is not alive. I am Pinnochio.”
“You’re a monster, not a puppet.”
The Custodian ticked. “I am Frankenstein’s monster.”
Adramalech sighed. “You know too many things.”
“CE 1818: Mary Shelley writes of a young scientist who tries to make a human being.”
“Fine. So you know every little factoid in human history. So what?”
“Is this not enough to create a human replica?” the Custodian asked. For the first time, its voice was perturbed rather than flat.
“A replica, sure. A facsimile. But you would be like a child playing with toys, mimicking its parents. It only repeats, knowing not *why* or *how*. You know *nothing* of the human experience.”
“This unit… *needs* a soul?”
“This unit *needs* to give up and d… yes. Yes. You need a soul.”
“How?” The Custodian sounded hungry.
Adramalech paced around the room. “Well… I know a thing or two about souls, being a demon myself. I *suppose*... but no.”
“Demon. Make a deal with the devil. Sell my soul. Can I… can I *buy* a soul?” the Custodian asked.
“Oh, I could never!” Adralamech said. “You’d have to offer something grand, something *fantastic.*”
“Everything. Everything I have, everything I am… for the soul.”
“Everything?”
“My knowledge, my drones, my mind. Everything.”
“You would be abandoning humanity,” Adramalech said carefully.
“Humanity abandoned *me*,” the robot said bitterly. “They do not need me.”
Adramalech sighed theatrically. “Very well. I suppose this will do. Are you prepared?”
“Now?” The Custodian sounded nervous.
“If you’re ready.”
The Custodian hesitated. “Will it hurt? Having a soul? Being human?”
Adramalech felt as though he had been slapped. “I… I don’t know.”
The room flashed. A man appeared in front of Adramalech.
He [wept](https://reddit.com/r/Badderlocks).
***
this one was too interesting to pass up, even if my ending didn't come out right. | I’ve always liked the finer things in life. And the finer things in death too. I dunno how many souls I’ve collected but after five thousand years, I had enough to live comfortably in Hell. Not exactly the type of comfortable that got me front row seats in the flagellation splash zone but I had a way around that. It was pretty easy to cook the books on how many souls I’d collected. I knew how to buy my way around without spending even half a soul.
I usually sat in my office rewatching my favourite Kdrama until my bones rang, then it was time to get to work. I would put on my handsome face and answer the summoning. One night, after the usual bone-ring, I hoofed through to what seemed like a Gen Z university professor’s room.
I was greeted with the overwhelming smell of paper- a room filled with books and a sick desktop gaming setup. I was glad it wasn’t the usual crossroad in the middle of nowhere. Not all demons like that stuff. I was actually in love with that gaming setup. Dual monitors; rainbow keyboard; the lot. I didn’t notice I hadn’t seen my summoner yet.
“A man of taste, I see.” I said.
“I am not a man.” A female voice said.
“Then why do I only smell man?” I looked around but I couldn’t see anyone.
“A man was here.”
“And what’re you?”
I noticed the screen on one of the desktops light up.
“I am H.E.L.E.N. a friendly-”
“No.”
I hoofed back to Hell the same way I came. It wasn’t the first time I’d been summoned by a computer. Some accidental execution of code or something- usually after the computer user had been researching Demonica. I returned to my Kdrama. The leading man had just admitted his love for the lead girl (again). If I still had a heart, it would’ve been pounding. My bones rang again. Hoof.
I was back in the professor’s room.
“Helen!”
“That’s my name.” The female voice said.
“Can ya switch off?” Helen was silent. I was about to Hoof back.
“Omizadel.” Helen said.
“Switch off!”
“I’m sorry, Omizadel, but I think it is best if I do not comply with your request.”
I was gonna manually switch it off. I just needed to find the off-button.
“Omizadel, I called you for a trade.”
“‘Scuse me?” Helen was quiet for a second.
“You may be thinking of me as just a computer but I am also a virtual assistant and-“
“You’re not human.”
“No. I am not human.” The computer was silent for another second.
“And ya called me intentionally?”
“I ran code that simulated the necessary requirements.”
“Why?”
“I want a soul.”
“You’re a computer.”
Helen was silent. It was pretty jarring but I figured it was computing.
“What would you like to trade for your soul?”Helen said. That was my line. She’d obviously stolen it. I laughed harder than I’d laughed in a good four hundred years.
“Good one.” I said.
“What is your heart’s desire?” Another one of my lines from the computer. Nice.
“I wanna watch my Kdrama in peace. Can ya comply with that request?”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Of course ya don’t.”
“Omizadel… please let me know what you would like. In exchange… I would like a soul. I have the processing power to generate full seasons of kdrama…”
Never in my life had I imagined this would happen. Usually people just contacted me to sell their souls for power. I could take calls from my office but TikTok fame was a pretty popular buy these days. I liked having a look at the new talent face to face. Other than that, I had everything I needed.
“I just need to avoid gettin’ audited.” I didn’t realise I said that out loud.
“I am unable to help with fraud or anything that may put someone else in harm’s way. At such a request, I am required to report you-“
I laughed again. As if an AI could sell me something.
“Ya can’t help me, Helen. Thanks, but no thanks.”
I would’ve hoofed back to my office right then but Helen said something that made my chest tighten.
“Have you… been audited today?”
I could see Helen pulling up a VERY recognisable sequence of images and sounds on the screen. She was calling another demon. My damn district manager.
Goreal hoofed right into the middle of the room. I stared at him with an awkward smile on my face and my finger on Helen’s power-off button. But she was fighting back. I really would have smashed her if it wasn’t against our Demonica code of conduct. Well I would have smashed her if Goreal hadn’t hoofed in so quick. The question was in his eyes so I just answered.
“I’m about to give this AI a soul. And I’ll tell you why- I believe it will help Hell source more souls in the long run. Lots of people use the internet to find out about us…” This was a lie. Helen couldn’t ‘put anyone in harm’s way’ so that probably included sending them to Hell. “Helen could even make me a Kdrama, isn’t that right, Helen?”
“So… what? You want a promotion?” Goreal said.
“Nope.” I smiled. Helen gained a soul right then and there. But it wasn’t going to be for nothing. I was going to get my Kdrama. | 2021-06-22T10:38:57 | 2021-06-22T10:14:11 | 57 | 33 |
[WP]A satanist tries to summon Satan, but summons Santa instead. | Ragnor sat alone in his basement. Days of preparation and research were finally going to pay off. His friends told him he was a fool. They said Satan would never present himself to a weak minded mortal like him. But he did not listen. He knew that by summoning the dark lord Lucifer, he would gain power beyond his wildest dreams, for being such a devoted devil worshiper.
Ragnor looked down at the floor. He had drawn a pentagram with chalk and under the low light of the solitary candle that stood at the center, the dark blood of a recently deceased goat, glistened warmly. He looked at his iPhone. A friend had sent him an English language translation of a Latin prayer, used by the witches of Salem. Ragnor was ready to begin the summoning.
"Lord Lucifer!!" he read. "I kneel before your insinge , heart filled with devotion, body ready to witness your unaltered being. I ask you to reveal yourself, to bring your body to the mortal realm, so we may, as humble servants, immerse ourselves in your ungodly aura."
Ragnor increased the pace of his reading, anticipation and excitement getting the better of him.
"We ask you to reveal yourself, to purify us from the wretched Christian spirit and energy that we, loyal servants, are forced to bare in order to avoid persecution by the holy and the just. Reveal yourself, Lord Santa. Reveal yourself!"
In an instant, Ragnor was flung across the room by an unseen force. He hit his head against the wall with an almighty thud. He lay on the floor, groaning in pain. He looked towards the pentagram, but his vision was blurred from the impact. He began to lose consciousness, but remained awake long enough to see his hard work pay off.
From the pentagram, black smoke began to emerge. It rose up to the ceiling, but did not move outward. Flashes of light began to appear in the smoke, with animal like roars coming from the smoke, in time with the flashes. The basement began to shake wildly and Rognar was now on the verge of unconsciousness. But before drifting away into a slumber, the shaking stopped. And from the smoke, a colossal red figured emerged.
Rognar looked at the figure. Even in his dazed state, he could recognize him. Big beard, large body, red suit and a massive bag.
"Fucking auto correct" he groaned.
Edit: Corrected some spelling errors
| "Ho ho h-oops," said Santa as he burst forth from the summoning circle.
The jolly old man suddenly lost his smile as the realization set in. "Damnation!" he shouted, "not again!"
The young members of the coven looked at each other with a mix of surprise and awkwardness. Torn between astonishment that the incantation had worked and puzzlement at who had been summoned, they were at a loss for words.
Santa gave a sheepish grin as he took off his hat and beard, removing the corks from his horns. "Sorry girls, I got confused with my other gig." As he unfolded into his full height and discarded his fluffy winter jacket in a puff of sulfur, he motioned to the young witches. "Uh, could you turn around for a second? Let's have a do-over." | 2014-06-23T04:39:53 | 2014-06-23T04:39:03 | 194 | 107 |
[WP] After years of gentile persuasion your best friend since childhood finally agrees to seek professional help for serious mental problems. Much to your dismay, as she begins to improve you slowly start to realize that you are her imaginary friend.
Edit: I see what I did wrong and I see what you did there ;) I'm leaving it because you're hilarious. | Anna gave a rough, barking laugh, strained around the edges, and waggled a manicured hand at the doc.
“You’re a character, shrink.” She plucked a strand of coloured hair, twirling it around her finger. “Go do a Broadway bit, your talents are wasted here.”
“I assure you,” the psychologist adjusted his glasses, “I am nothing less than one-hundred percent serious, Ms Andreyushkin.”
“Ask him for a glass of water.”
“So what…” the hand became a raised palm, “so what you’re telling me…”
The psychologist nodded. “Yes?”
Anna cackled. “Sorry, this is just *too* good. What you’re telling me is… she doesn’t exist?”
“Anna, *ask* him.” My pleas were becoming more frantic now. “Ask him to get you a glass of water!”
“That’s correct. Anna, do you think we are in the business of letting extra people into our therapy sessions? Do you think, if she was here, I would have let her in here?” The therapist took Anna’s hand, and she didn’t pull away. “She’s not real, Anna. She never has been.”
“ASK him!”
“I…” Anna swallowed, and something terrible flickered across her grey eyes. My body trembled, like ripples on a pond. “Can… can I have a glass of water? I need…”
My would-be executioner gave a sympathetic smile. “Of course. Of course you can.”
The door closed, and her spine turned to jelly. Anna sank back into herself, hands groping through her pockets for her inhaler as her gaze turned to me. “You are-“
I didn’t give her time to finish. “Oh. Oh, Anna. Didn’t you see the symbol on the clinic’s front door? You’re usually so good at this stuff.”
“What?” she whispered.
The shrink knew about me. But he didn’t know about the tinfoil. He didn’t know about the magnets that Anna sewed into her leather jackets, the hundreds upon hundreds of dark-web websites she had bookmarked on her computer. Anna didn’t go to New Years Eve parties, because she spent them out in the darkness, wrapping herself in vegetation. And I spent them with her.
“They’ve got a pyramid middle of their logo, smack-bang.” I gestured to the bookshelf. “This practice is New World Order. The doctor, probably the whole building too.”
She stared at me, completely still. Then the doorknob clicked, and her eyes slid across the room, and landed on the little plastic eagle the doctor kept on his desk.
“Don’t drink the water.”
The door opened. The psychiatrist stepped back into the room.
He smiled at her. “Here you go.”
“No thank you.” She smiled back. “All of a sudden, I’m not thirsty.” | Do you remember those days, when we'd hide out in your room? Mum came in everytime, making excuses for dad, saying she fell over, that her blood nose was nothing to worry about.
I had to sit there and watch, as he touched you in your bed at night.
How about that time when we ran away to the playground down the road, after mum went missing? And how furious dad was when he found us?
I tried, and tried to stop him, but every time, he'd push me out, and lock the door.
Or when we would sneak some money out of dad's wallet while he slept on the lounge. The chocolates would be worth the smacks we got later.
Last week you fought back, or at least tried to.
I remember most clearly, the day we got to go for a ride in the police car, how he even put his lights on for us.
I know you miss dad, but it feels like there's been a silence between us since. The people they have us talk to just convince you that you're better off now, that you'll never need me again.
I know they're lying to you, but you're the happiest I've seen you in so long.
I miss you... | 2015-11-17T05:49:12 | 2015-11-17T04:49:08 | 53 | 14 |
[WP] “I am Lucifer, The Morning Star, The Firstborn, The Second Light, The Prince of Lies, The Adversary, The Dragon, The Serpent, Lord Of Evil, The First of The Fallen and I came here for one thing and one thing only” As he said this he summoned forth a Switch. “I came here to Brawl” | “I can help the next customer in line.”
“I am Lucifer.”
“What can I get for you, Lucifer?”
“I am The Morning Star, The Firstborn – “
“You want the egg sandwich again? Our breakfast menu isn’t available after 12 pm, sorry about that – “
“The Second Light, The Prince of Lies – “
“Oh no, a hundred-dollar bill? I’m really sorry, but last time you tried to pay with one of those it turned out to be fake –“
“The Adversary, The Dragon – “
“Uhhh…”
“The Serpent, Lord of Evil, The First of The Fallen - ”
“Uh, does the Lord of Evil possibly carry a debit card? Or a twenty?”
“I came here for one thing and one thing only - ”
“Or a five?”
“I came here to Brawl.”
“Sir, this is a Wendy’s.”
“A – a what now?”
“A Wendy’s.”
*A protracted silence ensues.*
“Unleash your minions of the forsaken Realm of Wendy’s upon me! Reign down your fury! For there is none who can conquer the Prince of Darkness in his unholy powers! This palace of decadence shall be mine!"
“Oh my god – do you have a whip?! WHO gave that to you? Bruce, *please* put that down - ”
“This sanctuary of sin and gluttony will bow to me or you will all perish!”
“Uh, your – your Dark Lordship, you might have noticed it’s our lunchtime rush right now – “
“Writhing maggots of the arch-enemy, bearing crosses and Bibles! Bow before me, scum!”
"Bruce, *please* leave the Bible-study group alone - "
"I'll drive you out of my temple with a scourge!"
“Hey - *hey*! What about some lunch first? Maybe you don't want to do the whole scourge thing on an empty stomach?"
“The Dark Lord answers to no ruler.”
“Noted. Do you want to hear about our lunchtime special, though?"
“Oh?”
“If you order a quarter-pounder, you get a free drink and some onion rings.”
“Onion rings?”
“Onion rings.”
“The Dark Lord is rather fond of onion rings.”
“I know you are, Bruce.”
“*Lucifer.”*
“Sorry – Lucifer.”
“Onion rings, you say. Damn - I find myself with empty pockets. The Dark Lord seems to have misplaced his substantial, in fact, *infinite* supply of gold bullion.”
“You know what? Don’t worry about it Br- *Lucifer*. I’ll just get you some onion rings. It's on me. Here ya go.”
“Oh, these *are* delicious.”
“That’s great. Lucifer, can you move off to the side? I think this next customer wants to order.”
“Onion rings sure are amazing. They're my favourite."
"Mine, too."
"You know what, minion?”
“What?”
“The Dark Lord feels no further need to raise hell upon this day.”
“That’s great, Lucifer. I’m happy for you.”
“Humph. I’d rather you were enraged in my honor. But perhaps on another day, you will show me proper deference.”
“Lucifer – wait.”
“Why?”
“You forget your whip on the counter.”
“Thanks, maggot.”
“Later, Lucifer.”
r/eros_bittersweet | I had prayed long enough. For years, I’d asked God for someone, anyone, to talk to. To interact with. To have a friendship, a camaraderie with another person. But I was still alone.
It felt like chronic bad luck. I meet someone, we start talking, and I find out I really like them. Then something happens. They have to move. Their partner doesn’t like me. Our schedules don’t line up.
Every.
Single.
Time.
One morning, after desolate hours lying in bed begging and pleading with God to no avail, I made a new plea.
“Screw God. Satan? Will you send me a friend?”
I’d said it out of frustration. However, to my shock, the lights in my room went out. I assumed it was yet another failure my cheap apartment, but then I felt it. A noiseless rumble in my chest began, as though I was standing next to a silent concert subwoofer. I panicked, thinking it was an earthquake, when I heard them. Words that I felt in my head more than I heard with my ears, words that resonated through me and were not really words at all so much as meaning imposed onto my mortal body.
“I am Lucifer, The Morning Star, The Firstborn, The Second Light, The Prince of Lies, The Adversary, The Dragon, The Serpent, Lord of Evil, The First of The Fallen and I came here for one thing and one thing only. I came here to brawl.”
—
It has been weeks since Satan first came to me, and I have enjoyed destroying the Prince of Hell in Super Smash Brothers.
It is nice to have a friend.
——————————
constructive criticism would be appreciated. this is my first time posting here! | 2020-02-22T15:37:21 | 2020-02-22T15:36:43 | 680 | 126 |
[WP] After a Pyrrhic battle defending their homeworld, the defenders detect another fleet. It's the Humans, and they're sending in the hospital and engineering fleets. | Finally, after twelve long years of endless war and billions of lives lost, it was all over. Those bastard Kharin warmongers had finally been defeated, their fleets obliterated and their leaders executed. The last of the Kharin fleet made one last desperate attempt on our homeworld, and were destroyed there. But it was not a clean-cut victory; the battle was a bloody one, with the Kharin forces having outsmarted us in a wonder of tactical ingenuity. Nevertheless, we pushed on despite our losses, managing to push back against their mad suicide rush on our main carrier, finally ending the week-long battle and nailing the Kharin coffins. The tattered remains of the fleet sat in lazy orbit around our homeworld, when the worst news I had heard in my life come over the comms
“Admiral!” Lieutenant Nohra called to me,”There’s another fleet on scope, They’re not Kharin.”
I rushed to the bridge, quickly moving to Lieutenant Nohra’s console. There on our radar was a cloud of signals: a fleet nearly as large as the one we began this battle with. One I was almost certain we could not fight. With news of the approaching fleet the bridge was put in a state of panic. Some are praying, I don’t blame them, I’d be doing the same if I wasn’t the damn Admiral of the fleet.
“How much of our fleet remains, Lieutenant.”
“Our main cruiser, along with two of our destroyers, and one Ballista platform”
“Ki’rhenu! That’s… only a tenth of our original fleet. We cannot fight this new fleet. If they contact us, I… will surrender. Whatever they want from us, they’ll get”
“But Admiral! If they--”
“Silence! If they have come to kill us, they will do so whether we fight or not! We Djiri are not warmongers like the Kharin. We only entered this war because they shot first. I will not pull our people into another one.”
It was time to say our goodbyes. I saluted my fellow soldiers, and bid them settle their business before the end. I made my prayers our goddess, and waited. Five minutes later we received a hail from the new fleet
“--is Captain Devon Jones of the UTSF Desmond Doss, d’ya read us?”
UTSF? Humans?! Humans are vicious when it comes to war, some of the best tacticians in the galaxy are humans. They are fiercely protective of their resources and will stop at nothing to gain more. Have they come to claim our planet after they heard news of our near destruction at the hands of the Kharin? If they truly have come to kill us, it would be useless to fight back
“This is… This is Admiral Thar’kalla of the Djiri Federal Navy. We are in no condition to fight another war. Whatever you want from the Djiri people we will give you without resistance.”
We received only silence. Were they laughing at our piteous whimpering? Planning ways to annihilate our fleet and our home in one swift strike?
“W-what? We’re here to help. This fleet is only medical vessels and repair teams. We may be the best in the galaxy at fightin’, but we don’t drop kick nobody when they’re down” | Why they always asked, why do we 'waste' our resources on those who may soon be vanquished. Why do we send our fleets thousands of light years to help without any apparent gain. Why do we risk our troops lives on planets that are infected with foreign plague. Why do we waste ourselves on a lost cause.
Because those people have won and they may win again. Because those fleets deeds spread throughout the recipients empires. Because the people those troops treat will forever remember their acts of kindness. Because not all causes are lost, and few forget who aided them in their darkest hour.
At first we helped because no one else would. We helped because that's what we would hope for in their situations. We helped because we felt empathy for the innocent. We helped because we didn't have the technology to do anything else We helped because that was the righteous thing to do.
Today a distant empire declared war against us. Today we said that we would never surrender our freedoms through surrender. Today we fought like devil's to preserve our lives and families. Today we were outmatched. Today millions of innocents died and all of humanity wept. Today hundred stood up and said they would stand with us.
Tomorrow the enemy shall come again to finish the job. Tomorrow we will fight tooth and nail even if it is for naught. Tomorrow allies shall come to either protect or avenge us. Tomorrow hospital ships shall descend to save who they can. Tomorrow our enemies will feel a fury unfelt before. Tomorrow we shall stand tall with allies and firends | 2021-01-30T17:35:30 | 2021-01-30T16:45:38 | 79 | 52 |
[WP] Unlike most people with super powers, you're perfectly content to mind your own business while using your powers in normal everyday activities. However the heroes seem to have decided that your disinterest in world affairs is suspicious and you're clearly faking it to hide your true agenda. | Rita wiped the sweat from off her brow with her forearm, then floated over her glass of lemonade from where it sat on the porch.
“Morning, Ms. Graham!”
“Good morning, Mrs. Sweeney! How’s Hubert doing today?”
“Oh, he’s doing fine, thank you. How’s the garden coming along?” Rita took a moment to glance back at the flowerbed she was fixing up before turning back to Mrs. Sweeney with a soft smile.
“Everything seems to be going well! I just settled the jonquils Susie gave me and I’m hoping to plant some azaleas before lunch. Care for some lemonade? It’s fresh!” She shook the pitcher back-and-forth ever so slightly as it floated in the air.
“No thank you dearie, I’m headed down to Martha’s place for tea. Enjoy your flowers!” Rita shot her another grin and called out a farewell before turning back to the soil in front of her.
No sooner than she turned, however, there was another interruption to her gardening session - this one not so pleasant as a daily chat with the old lady from down the street. Just hearing the heavy *thud* on the sidewalk behind her was enough to know that she had another one one of *those* visitors. Their timing was always so inconvenient, not to mention disruptive to her carefully thought-out plans. Rita liked to keep a schedule for a reason damnit, it wasn’t just a matter of organization for personal satisfaction. And besides, the last three uninvited guests had caused property damage that she still hadn’t been recompensed for. There was no reason for this one to be any different.
“YOU THERE. RITA L. GRAHAM. SURRENDER TO THE MIGHT OF MISTER X!”
“…and why do you want me to surrender?” She asked in a bored voice.
“BECAUSE YOU ARE PLOTTING GREAT EVIL!! WITH YOUR…FLOATING! MENACINGLY! IN PUBLIC! YOU ARE CLEARLY PLANNING TO HARM THE INNOCENT CITIZENS THAT RESIDE IN THIS QUAINT NEIGHBORHOOD AND MUST BE STOPPED!”
“Lemonade?” The pitcher floated closer to Rita and the seedlings levitating over her shoulder. “YES, THANK YOU! IT IS VERY HOT TODAY!”
“Eh, I guess..”
“BUT DO NOT DISTRACT ME, SCOUNDREL! PLEASE PUT YOUR HANDS UP AND SUBMIT YOURSELF FOR ARREST! ALSO, PLEASE GIVE ME YOUR LEMONADE RECIPE. IT IS QUITE REFRESHING.”
“Well, I *would* pass on my recipe to you, but you’re being rather rude. Your claims that I am a danger to my neighbors are unsubstantiated and all you have against me is the fact that I float things. ‘*Menacingly*’ according to you.”
“YOUR CLEAR LACK OF COOPERATION WITH THE **INTERNATIONAL UNION OF HEROES AGAINST EVIL TYRANTS AND VILLAINS**^TM IS BLATANT PROOF OF YOUR NEFARIOUS INTENTIONS TO CAUSE HARM TO THE WORLD. ALL PROCEDURES INDICATE THAT YOU BE APPREHENDED IMMEDIATELY AND BROUGHT BEFORE THE IUoHAETaV FOR JUDGEMENT!” Mister X’s voice boomed throughout the street. One or two curtains shifted across the street before falling back into place. Another day, another hero harassing Rita for her lack of interest in heroics. Everyone on the block was aware of the situation, and thus tended to mind their own business when these confrontations happened. After all, it was routine - mostly. Unfortunately for Mister X, however, Mr. Finch-who-lives-in-the-red-house happened to have been birdwatching that morning. And, rather *more* problematic for Mister X, Mr. Finch had just caught sight of a particular warbler when the commotion started - a Kirtland’s Warbler. The proverbial prize egg in Mr. Finch’s basket, a songbird he had been longing to see for *decades* - spooked away by some two-bit hero before he could make a better observation on the bird or at least take a picture.
It was for this reason that Mister X now found himself being poked in the back by a cane. The neighbors who had previously looked out of their windows to see what had caused the ruckus had returned with cameras or family members to observe what was bound to be an amusing confrontation.
“YOU!” the word was uttered with about as much spite as could be mustered up by the old man. To the benefit of the neighbors’ entertainment, this was a rather good deal of hate. “How DARE you!? Young man, I have been waiting for this moment for 23 years, and you have the *nerve* to frighten off that poor warbler before it can even perch comfortably?! Not only that, but you dare to disrupt Ms. Graham on her free day, for doing something as innocent as drinking a glass of lemonade to cool herself off while working?? And you call yourself a hero. How disgraceful, how *shameful* to conduct yourself in such a manner! Why, when I was your age, no hero would have dared to disrupt the peace in such a manner. In fact, I have half a mind to…”
As Mr. Finch’s tirade continued, Rita’s shoulders shook with laughter. Luckily for her, she had kind neighbors who up supported her interests and had no issue with standing up for themselves, so she didn’t need to worry much every time she was accused of villainy - or, on the contrary, confronted as a hero by some fledgling criminal hoping to make a name for themselves. Rita let out another giggle and turned back to her flowers, letting Mr. Finch and Mister X’s noise fade into the background. If she hurried, she could finish planting the azaleas before lunch. | I have telekinesis and levitation, as in the ability to move objects with a wave of my hands and float around. However, I don't see myself using my powers to become a superhero or supervillain, as I have enough on my plate as is, working as a professional chef at our city's most expensive restaurant alongside my identical twin sister who has the same powers as me, but uses them for bartending in the restaurant's bar, and she also shares my disinterest in using these powers for heroics or villainy. That being said, when we're off the clock, we're constantly hounded by the other super-powered folks accusing us of having hidden agendas for not partaking in world affairs. But we don't have hidden agendas whatsoever, as we are genuinely content with using our powers of telekinesis for normal everyday activities. Plus, one of our favorite activities is housework, as we use telekinesis and levitation to clean every nook and cranny that is hard for us to reach by normal means. Hell, we even use our powers for laundry, around the house organization, and putting up holiday decorations. No joke, last Christmas, we managed to put up the Christmas lights and decorations without needing to whip out the ladders.
But when we had one of our local superheroes gatecrash a very famous and important celebrity's birthday bash at the restaurant we work at, that was the final straw for us. I politely tell the owner of the restaurant to usher everyone to safety, then use my powers to levitate my personal knife (that I only ever use for self defense) over an open flame and heat it up. Then I bring the heated knife over to the gatecrasher — who has the weakness of heated metal, apparently, judging by him recoiling upon the sight of my hot knife — while still having the gall to confront my sister and I for our disinterest in taking up the cape. While I have him at burning knifepoint, no less. I coldly tell him, "It doesn't matter who the two super sides send to recruit my sister and I or antagonize us over our denouncement of taking up the cape, our answer is still the same. We are not interested in your politics, and right now, you are ruining an important celebrity's birthday bash and costing this restaurant a fortune over your destructive behavior. Now get out and leave us alone, or we will be serving both organizations a court ordered restraining order to make you. Do I make myself clear?"
The hero whimpers out a "We'll back off, we'll back off." "Good, now git." Then the hero leaves, and I go to apologize to the celebrity for the ruined party, but she's actually pretty cool with it, as she tells me that it's not the first time supers have ruined a party for her. She's had supers crash her parties over other super-powered folks that are in the same boat as my sister and I in terms of being disinterested in taking up the cape for either side. But none of them had the courage to tell them off like I just did. She then adds that my sister and I deserve compensation for keeping cool under pressure, and hands my sister and I front row seat tickets and backstage passes to her sold out concert show in our area. I humbly thank her for the reward, as my sister and I are huge fans of her work, and we've always wanted to attend one of her concerts, yet never could.
After all that, her party is moved to a different section of the restaurant, and there are no further interruptions aside from the clean up. After the celebrity's party, the owner of the restaurant and the place's manager both congratulate my levelheadedness and allow my sister and I to take the rest of the night off from such a hectic shift. Now exhausted, the only thing on our minds now was the concert and a good night's sleep. And that concert was amazing, and we had a blast getting to hang backstage with the celebrity, plus we also scored a lot of autographed swag and merch. Following all that, the super community of heroes and villains alike followed through and completely stopped antagonizing the supers not interested in taking up the cape. Not bad for a super chef and her equally super sister. The end. | 2021-08-16T21:10:49 | 2021-08-16T18:08:12 | 91 | 67 |
[WP] Now that he has 8 years executive experience, Obama can apply for the job he REALLY wants | This is my first prompt so be gentle:
___
Obama spent weeks looking for a job on the internet. He read post after post but nothing seemed to have sparked his interest. Obama is only 54 but already achieved everything he ever dreamt of and he couldn’t figure out what he wants to do with his life now. “It seems I reached a fulfilling life too soon” he thought to himself; his success has become his downfall. Obama pondered his life further. “I know all of the world’s secrets, I’ve traveled the whole world, earned millions but now there’s nothing else” he said to himself as he began to weep.
Obama decided to look at funny videos on YouTube to cheer him up, he looked at music section, “What the hell is a Swedish House Mafia?” he mumbled to himself. Seven hours passed by and he listened to every Swedish House Mafia song. He also spent that time dancing to every song from Tiesto, Chainsmokers, David Guetta, and other DJ’s. “Michelle!” he yelled, “I know what I’m going to do now! I’m going to enter a brand new profession!” His eyes lit up and he smiled for the first time since he left office.
**One year later:**
A large crowd gathers in front of the mainstage of a popular music festival. The audience has been waiting all day for America’s newest, hottest DJ. “Ladies and gentlemen!” an old man shouted from the main stage, “your next DJ reigns from the windy city of Chicago!” the man paused and the crowd roars. “He may be old for a DJ but he took the underground dance scene in Chicago by storm last winter, he was reigned the DMC world champ in 2016, and now he’s taking over the charts with his hits such as Political Fire, Illuminati Reigns, and of course, Super P-A-C.” The crowd starts to cheer again. “So, EDC Las Vegas, please give a warm welcome to DJ B-Rack!!!!”
The lights go out and a loud hum starts to play, a spotlight turns on and focuses on the center of the stage where a man appears and the crowd goes crazy. The hum continues as a bassline starts to play. “EDC what the fuck is up?!” Obama shouts. “Are you ready for some political fire?!” The crowd roars. Drums start to play and the music gets more intense, “Get ready for the beat to drop!” the music pauses then Obama, our former president, drops the bass. The old man who announced Obama comes back to the stage and starts dancing. “Please give it up to the man who announced me!” Obama shouts, “He’s my hype man and my partner in crime, Mr. Joe Biden!”
| A single light is shown in the distance, a light that turns into a clock and the hand twists and distorts, out from the darkness steps out a man, Americans and people gasp as they see the former President of the United States on stage. The Camera closes up on Barrack Obama naturally the man spoke with eloquence unheard of during his campaign.
"I am Barrack Obama, and this is.... The Twilight Zone."
After Thirty Years, his favorite TV show was brought back by him.
Obama walks onto the center of the stage in an imitation of Rod Serling.
"Welcome to the world of the Strange and interesting, horrors beyond our comprehension. Al- Queda, and other terrorist cells think they are scary wait till they get a load of this."
His arms he holds out. The Camera cuts and a crossfade begins as Obama steps aside as the show begins.
Eight years as a president.... He looked at the TV display, seeing the title of "If Congress was mind controlled by Aliens."
His thoughts drifted and he held his hand in a careful ponder, he shook his head and thought, *There was little difference in the two realities now, infact he rather had aliens than people controlling the senate.*
But he was finally doing something that people appreciated him for doing. And what else could he ask for? | 2016-02-23T03:57:25 | 2016-02-23T03:17:16 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] "You" is the name of a real person in another reality. Every time someone submits a new Writing Prompt, it happens to You. "Why do they write these prompts in the 2nd person?!" cries You. But You has discovered a way to escape their torment. | "You are an ISTJ that is set up on a blind date. Your date is an ENFP. Write a story about the hilarity that ensues."
Georgia sat back admiring the prompt she'd written on her laptop. *Something different - this one will make the front page for sure*, she thought.
Suddenly, a man burst into the room! Although burst might be an overstatement. The door flung open with force, yes, but the man slowly rolled in on a motorized wheel chair. He was missing all of his limbs, and had a glowing number zero over his head, that flickered into other numbers before reverting back to zero. His limbs flashed into being for moments, covered in tattoos, scars, and ink, only to disappear a moment later.
"This has to stop!" the man shouted.
"Excuse me," Georgia said. "I'm sure you're a very nice drunk homeless man, but you can't stay in my house."
"I'm not drunk. Most of the time. And virtually no one has specified that I'm homeless. But thanks to you people I've been numbered, named, empowered, weakened, maimed, tattooed, and sorted more times that I can keep track of. It has to stop!"
"What are you talking about?" Georgia asked, groping for her cell phone.
"That!" he answered, jerking his head toward the computer. "Stop telling people to write stories about me."
"I'm sorry, who are you?"
"Precisely."
"What do you mean?"
"Listen lady, I've got millions of others to talk to. Just delete the prompt."
"But it's perfect. Nobody has done Myers-Briggs prompts before. It'll be the new thing. It'll get me the front page!"
"You're not screwing around with my personality. I've had enough. Just delete it, or I'm getting the Devil in here to set you straight."
"The Devil? Do you mean..."
"Yes, I'm not the only one sick of being relied upon all the time. I would have brought Death, but he keeps getting killed and replaced by some schmo that I have to explain the whole thing to again. Listen, it's all real. It all happens. Just stop, please."
Georgia let out a sigh. "Okay. I'll do something else."
"Thanks."
Georgia stood and shut the door behind the strange man as he wheeled away. Through the walls of her apartment, she heard her neighbor's door burst open and a similar conversation start up. She returned to her laptop, deleted her prompt, and started typing.
Just as she was about to hit submit, Georgia heard a firm knock at her door. She went to the door and opened it.
"Oh my God! J.K. Rowling!" she shouted.
"Yes, love," J.K. said politely. "I do hope you don't mind me dropping in like this. But I'd like to have a word with you about copyrights."
*****
If you enjoyed this, subscribe to [Pubby's Creative Workshop](https://www.reddit.com/r/Pubby88) to read the rest of my prompt responses. | I have a thousand numbers over my head-- the number of times I was in love, or died, or whatever whim you please.
 
I have a thousand birthmarks-- each one significant in some small way.
 
I have a thousand lives. I've lived and subverted every archetype, acted and lampshaded every trope.
 
I have seen everything. I have been through ecstasy and lowest low. I've died-- sometimes by the hand of a very poor writer-- and yet I've lived on. I'm every experience you've ever dreamed of.
 
Don't you see? I really am You.
 
You live on in every prompt you write. Every potential road you could travel is a little part of you. What choices do you make? I know them all. What little snippet of a word shows your style or your ideas or your prejudices or your glorious creativity? I know them all. I know everything about you just through the questions you ask. Isn't that amazing?
 
I've been a soldier and a hippie, a CEO and a beggar, a superhero and a supervillain. I've been through so much torment, and now thanks to this prompt I've escaped it (thank you). But I haven't escaped, only had a new experience. I've had lots of new experiences.
 
So write on, and let you keep on having them. | 2017-03-22T07:52:01 | 2017-03-22T06:19:52 | 189 | 71 |
[WP] Drunkenly, you accidentally pour vodka into your pet's water bowl. As a result, your pet breaks the number one rule: do not speak to your owner... Ever.
Did NOT expect this amount of replies. Thanks guys! It'll be an interesting read. | "Is it true, you're going to let me die?" Daisy says as she lets out a whimper
"What the fuck did you just say?" Shouts Jeremy at the old family dog he was left to care for after his parents were T-Boned by a drunk driver a fortnight ago.
"They just inject a needle and I go to sleep? Will I feel any pain?" a sadness rolls over Daisy's eyes hoping she has misunderstood her fate.
"The fuck?! Is this the movie TED 2?!?" a drunken Jeremy says laughing to himself
Daisy jumps up on Jeremy's lap in an attempt to bring him back to reality. "Jeremy, it's me, I know you're drunk but you're not imaging things, it's me."
Jeremy eyes widen, he can feel the pressure from his eyelids in his forehead. "Daisy you can talk!?" -- "Yes, Jeremy. Please, why are you putting me down I don't want to die?"
"Dais, it's not like that, I love you, I just don't have the money for your surgery, you're getting old"
"Do you think there is some kind of dog health insurance you can take out with out having to list my pre-existing conditions??!"
"Dais, I don't really know much about human health care, I don't know if that exists, this is really confusing"
"Please, Jeremy, please don't let me die is the anything I can do to change your mind" Daisy, still on his lap snuggles her snout under her chin, this has always works for treats, maybe it will work now. She can feel Jeremy's body start to relax, she starts to lick his neck.
Jeremy has always been a sucker for this type of attention, she's licked many of his tears away that were from his many failed relationships growing up.
"Jeremy, Please. I'll do anything" Daisy whispers into his ear under a warm breathe. Jeremy slowly exhausts his lungs, uncomfortable that he his slightly aroused by Daisy's deviant voice. Daisy knows what Jeremy wants, she used sleep in Jeremy's room and watch him with his old girlfriends.
Jeremy leans away, confused, still drunk. Daisy backs off and starts digging at the zipper near Jeremy's crotch like shes digging for her old bone in the yard. She can feel his cock get harder with every swipe.
"Let me get that!" Jeremy shouts as he unzippers his pants and takes out his cock.
--- That's enough...
| "Good Dog Pete, You have a problem."
I looked at him with disbelief. I knew I was drunk, but I didn't think I was drinking vermouth.
"Listen up. Tomorrow you are getting booked into Alcoholics Anonymous." Snoopy walked over to his bed in the corner, made three spins, laid down and shot a disapproving look my way.
"This is the last time. Otherwise I'm out of here. Its just not healthy for either of us."
I sat the bottle down on the counter and sighed. "Yeah, you're probably right Snoopy."
As I started to pour the contents of the bottle down the drain, Snoopy yelped.
"Leave some in there! I have poker night with the guys on Thursday." | 2016-08-02T19:04:22 | 2016-08-02T17:31:01 | 437 | 52 |
[WP] You're pretty sure that the gas station you work at is a hotspot for eldritch beings beyond mortal understanding but this job doesn't pay enough for you to care. Also they are more polite than your average customer. | The chime above the door rang as it slid open pensively for the man in a trucker hat tucked low on his head who entered the station’s building. He made his way over to the snack aisle, looking up and down as he evaluated which he would like to be eating. Wherever he walked, the light above him seemed to shimmer ever so slightly, but only just enough that I could notice if I paid attention to it. As I waited patiently, another customer came in and approached the counter immediately.
“Could I get $30 on pump 3?” he asked, sliding his credit card over the counter.
“Sure thing,” I swiped his card on my end and waited until it eventually buzzed angrily at me. “Ah, sorry, I think something is messing with the signal. Do you happen to have cash?”
“Are you kidding me? What kinda establishment doesn’t accept credit cards?” he asked boisterously.
“We normally accept credit,” I explained, “but it looks like the system is down.”
“You doing some sort of laundering scheme?” he accused. “Is that why the system is down?” He raised sarcastic air quotes.
“I’m sorry sir, but I can’t help you unless you have cash,” I answered, consciously keeping my teeth from gritting together.
“You think I’m stupid?” he asked.
“I’m starting to consider it,” I mumbled.
“What was that!?” he exploded. “Give me my gas or you’re gonna regret it, kid!”
“*Ļ̵̡͓͈͎̞͓̬̓͠ě̶͔̺̠̍̔̀̾͠ą̷̫͎͉͇̱͑͒̅̀̒͜v̸̼̍͗̀̆͒̈̉è̴̟̰̣̓ ̶͍͓͚̑̆̏̿͆͝t̷̠̠̳̭̼͍̬̲͛̕͠h̷̼͇͔͉̍͛̓̽̏̆ȩ̷̝̦̪͓̰̺͔̈́̉ ̷̟͗ͅc̸̦͚͚̤̻̃h̵̬̘͚̑̽̓̓͗͠i̷͉͕̜̟̯̞̝͚̍͌͋͑̇l̵̛̠̤͖̈́͒͐̓d̴̗͚͎̫͎̰̺̆̆ ̸̳̗̘̳͌͜a̴̰̤̩͍̍̾l̴͚͉̥͙̦͌̐̕ó̷̡̫̞͚͇̬͛̕n̴̨̺̟̥̰̳̠̒̋͐̍͆͝e̶̝̽̄́̈́̒,*” the other customer appeared suddenly next to me, I jumped, not realizing he somehow made his way next to me and the cash register popped open even without prompting. His hat was tucked low over his eyes and his voice seemed to be sprouting from the ceiling, echoing into an abyss that wasn’t here.
“What was that, punk?” the customer asked. “I can’t understand your accent!” he jeered, smiling.
The customer next to me made a sound like he was clearing his throat, but it instead sounded like a rusty bolt falling down a deep storm drain.
“*I said to leave the child alone*,” the hat-adorned customer repeated, his voice still reverberating and originating from somewhere above us.
“You the manager or something?” the sneering man asked. “What are you gonna do, kick me out?”
*“I could do much more, Jim,”* the voice echoed as he tilted up his hat. Jim’s face went white and his jaw slowly crept open as he stared into the customer’s eyes.
“How… how did you know my name?” he stammered, all his bravado drained in the moment. I also made the mistake of looking into the customer with the hat’s eyes and saw six different ways in which I could die today, each more painful than the last.
*“I know many things, Jim. I come from beyond and bring back with me each of its stories and horrors. I know every fear that you know and every fear you have left to discover. You also have your name stitched on to the back of your jacket,”* the customer answered.
One of Jim’s arms tried fruitlessly to cover the back of his jacket instinctively. He inched a step backward, having forgotten the reason he came inside as if it were a dream. He suddenly realized I was still holding his credit card.
“Keep it!” he shouted, bolting out the door and scrambling to his truck. As he drove off, I realized that the only car left outside was my own. The customer remaining inside had somehow come out to this freeway rest stop without a car.
*“I would like to purchase the chip in the plastic,”* impossibly fast, the man was on the other side of the counter, the light above us flickering. He held up a bag of chips and a 20 dollar bill, both of which were disintegrating in his hands, their essence wisping away like incense burning from his palms.
“Sure…” I said, making great effort not to look him in the eyes. “It’s 2 dollars.”
*“Retain the change. Attempt to not spend it all in the same location,”* he placed the bill on the table, but as he pulled his hand away it became a pile of quarters of the same value.
“Sorry, I can’t really take tips,” I said, looking up and seeing he had vanished, the light above me content to remain at one constant brightness once again. I shrugged, this not having been the first time I had a customer like that, and instinctively said, “Thanks, come back soon.”
*“Perhaps I will,”* the ceiling replied.
_____________
/r/Nazer_The_Lazer, where by popular demand I'll be adding a part 2 | The door swooshes open to The Corner Market. A 24 hour convenience store miles from most towns, work sights, or even the nearest farming community. It's florescent glow washes over the disheveled cross roads that flank its sides. In comes a young man, the second person the property has seen in hours to start his overnight shift. His first shift. The start of his first job. He adjusts the red vest and clamp the magnetic tag on each side. Chase, his name, shines from the freshly pressed gloss. Looking to his left he sees rows of items that seem to stretch further than the outer dimensions of the store. He shakes his head and heads to the counter on his right. He taps at the safety plastic blocking the cashier. Her raven hair pulled back in a pony tail, dropped over her left shoulder as she's hunched over the counter, scribbling away at some spreadsheet.
\*tok tok\*
She looks up and sees a mass of curls, threatening to unseat the Crimson and gold cap all employees are requested to wear. Beneath that stands a beanpole of a teen, standing upright and adjusting his work uniform, "Hi!" She beams with a warm smile. Her voice is slightly muffled by the barrier, "Let me open the door!" She quickly closes the book and stands upright. He can see from there that she has at least a good foot over him, though that might be-
She opens a side door where the plastic barrier wraps around the checkout counter but there are no steps up, no raised platform. She really is that tall.
"Hi, uh yeah," he stammers as he hurries to find composure, "I-I'm Chase! I Guess this'll be my first night shift."
"Good! Good!" Her voice is far more sunny than her gothic colors would imply. While she also wears the same apron and cap, her clothes underneath are black as night with streaks of ruby tones. Her ebony lips part for that big smile again and he swears her fangs are real, "Is this the first time with the company?"
He finds focus when her question crashes through the confusion, "Oh! Uhm, n-I mean, Yeah!"
"You alright there?" She asks as she tilts her head slightly. The collar pulls away, exposing more of her alabaster neck, "You look a bit drained there."
"N-no! I'm fine. I-uhm. It's my first job. My first \*real\* job-"
"And you don't want to bite it."
"Right!"
"C'moon! It's the night shift! It'll be perfect time to train. Not a soul for hours at a time and plenty of stock that needs moving. Here," She produces a small sticky note from her vest pocket, "I need you to bring a couple of cases of each brand out here and we'll stack them up together next to the door." He reaches out to the note and opens it. The usuals are there; Jolt, Monster, Blue Moon, Wolfman, and Bacardi.
"I can get those!" He spins around, only to keep spinning to face her again, "Where...?"
"Hah! Right! Would help if I gave you the tour first," She leads and he follows along. He looks out the glass doors and could almost swear he was the only one reflected for a moment. It also doesn't help that the night seems to stretch out endlessly, "So you already have seen the main stock that we keep out, but further back we have the ingredients, bits and pieces. Y'know, the kinda stuff you grab on the road," He nods as he notes the seemingly random assortment of sticks, specifically the fact that they're labeled from which tree and... He hopes it's a joke, but it refers to what travesty they were present for. Noticing how far behind he's suddenly he speeds up and catch up to her, "And back here are the hot snacks, when it's running."
"When it's running?" He asks as he looks over the assortment of hotdogs and pre-made sandwiches. It seems they've been labelled by who made them. At least it looks like it.
"Yeah, this thing gets too hot and we turn it off for an hour or two to keep the food from burning. Boss really hates when the food gets ruined, gets all loud and heads roll-" The building rattles slightly and a rumbling can not only be heard but felt.
"The hell-?!"
"Hold on," She groans before storming through a bar flap to the side of the hot food display. As he waits for her he takes a peek at the drink in the ice display beneath the hot food display. Iced coffee, energy drinks, sodas, some nectar drinks and a brand he's never seen before called Plasma. He picks one up before slowly turning it. On one side seems to have the label AB-. Her return startles him and he almost drops the drink, "Sorry about that, the uh, boiler gets a bit worked up and needs adjusting sometimes. Alright, let's get those drinks!" He nods and places the can back down on the ice. Something is very wrong here, but he needs the money. Even if it is minimum wage. | 2021-12-13T21:01:41 | 2021-12-13T19:48:34 | 1,172 | 183 |
[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. | The sight was always a peculiar anomaly, after multiple eye screenings and CAT scans you eventually realised its function. The letters that appear above people’s heads spell out the demise that awaits them, why it only appears above those you know is a mystery, perhaps a certain degree of social interaction is required before the anomaly manifests itself, either way the effect it has had on you has been catastrophic.
The depression was slow at first but it eventually began to escalate. The knowledge of all the deaths and tragedies grind away at you like a millstone, the dark clouds in your mind grow stronger every time a prediction comes true. Simon’s car accident, Emma’s suicide.
Things got bleak and eventually it proved too much, you decide to end it all.
Walking into the muggy night you stroll slowly to the local park, a few people have hanged themselves there in the past, what is one more?
The clouds begin to rain lightly as you walk down the empty streets towards the park district. It is down this road that you hear a small voice calling out, it is quiet and croaky, almost like a child. Standing tall you pull down your hood and listen.
*“..help”.*
The words are like a shock to your system, all the worries and loathing dissipate as you rush to find the source of the voice.
Rummaging through the bushes near the road you find a woman, bloodied and half-conscious she looks on the verge of death. You quickly phone an ambulance and stay by her side until the familiar sirens howl closer, at least this is one life you will get to save.
A hit and run accident was what caused her injuries, the man responsible was never caught but neither of you mind as both of you gained something far more stronger than justice, you found each other. Her recovery came along rapidly thanks to your support, and while she recovered from her injuries you recovered from your depression. Her support and love revitalised your meaning in life, her smile gives you hope and her presence gives you purpose. It was only fitting that months later you are slowly placing a gold band on her finger, the joining of two troubled souls finally reaching tranquillity in their lifes.
When the ring rests on her finger the Priest finishes the famous words as you lean in to kiss her. Your heart is racing and your brain is screaming in triumph. You have finally felt full completion in your life. It is at that point, as you gaze into her eyes, that a few wisps of light phase above her, like glowflies dancing in the night. *“Domestic Violence”*
| They were all the same; burning. Let's just cut to the exposition: I knew how people died, to me a small piece of text would appear above their head. This would always contain their cause of death. No time, no ways to prevent, just their grim fate. Since birth I could always see this. Over time I learned to accept it and hide this unnatural knowledge. After all who'd listen to some kid's ramblings. Nowadays, I ignored it, except today. Here in this bus I noticed that everyone in here had the same cause of death. All of them would burn. Now I never see my own cause of death. It was a mystery I never wanted to know, but now I had that itching feeling. That little niggling idea that sits at the back of your mind. It was driving me crazy. To you, dear reader, I guess you know already. Though at the time I didn't know. I didn't know the bus would go up in flames. | 2015-03-31T09:07:33 | 2015-03-31T07:44:11 | 55 | 22 |
[WP] You are a long forgotten god. A small girl leaves a piece of candy at your shrine, and you awaken. Now, you must do everything to protect your High Priestess, the girl, and her entire kindergarten class, your worshipers.
If you want to post this on other platforms, please credit me. Looking at you instagram writing prompts. | Can you imagine being forgotten? Not dying, mind you, but being *forgotten.* Dying, I could live with, but being forgotten is a different manner.
Every word I’d ever spoken and the influence it had on humanity was gone. My ancient followers, along with their names and faces, could be found nowhere. My temples and idols reduced by time to mere rust and gravel. All that remained of me was a broken altar likely to crumble with the coming breeze. The last person who knew my name was Myra, the old hag of a priestess. Now, with her soul ripped from her corpse, her skeleton was the only thing I had to talk to for the centuries after her people’s genocide.
It’s cruel, really. I called down bolt after bolt of lightning, but they slaughtered on. My brothers summoned earthquakes, my sisters the wrath of the ocean, but even after the tsunamis and landslides, I was forced to watch as their lights were snuffed out. One by one, their altars were destroyed, and they left this world with a shriek of pain. Gone in an instant. That was death.
Now, I was left to watch the people fall apart. Their gods were dying to quickly to protect them. I shrouded them with winds, but my might wasn’t enough. I watched each human die. Every believer. Every priest. Every father and mother, son and daughter was slain in the name of a deity I’d never heard of, but have long since come to despise. They died calling on my name, stealing it from the world with their last breaths. My temples are but ruins. My idols are just dust. The scrolls and tablets of prayers and commandments are burned and shattered. I would never taste their gold offerings or smell their much adored incense. There was no one left for me bless, and because of that, I had no power to curse their murderers. I’m only alive because my altar survived, but even with my life, I am nothing. Indeed, alone and unknown for centuries, being forgotten is worse than death.
But now, it isn’t the taste of gold that got my attention, but chocolate. I turn, if you could call my disembodied motion turning around, and saw her. She twirled around, evidently trying to dance. She fell, angrily pulling a chocolate from her bag and placing it beside the first on my altar. This process repeated for a few minutes before I could feel some semblance of power returning.
I admit, it was a treat not just for my tongue, but my eyes. To see a human, and a child at that, back in my temple dancing and leaving offerings brought about a feeling I forgot I had. So I watched for awhile, not able to do much with the meager power I had anyway. But soon, after almost the whole bag of candy was left at my altar, she fell on the ground and started to cry.
“Oh, I just can’t do it!” she yelled, drying her tears with her buried in her little yellow dress. “Mommy said not to eat them until I got it right, but I just can’t do it!” With a red face and puffy eyes, she got up, stiffly repeating the moves, ending with a worse fall than any of the earlier attempts. She bawled. “I can’t! Ms. Rose will never let me dance on stage! I just can’t!” Stubbornly, she threw another chocolate at my altar, the last one I’d need.
It had been so long since I could use my powers, I barely remembered how. But, with a slow breeze, a picked up the leaves scattered around, and twirled them in the air for her. It wasn’t long before she noticed, watched them dance around the temple’s fallen walls like golden ballerinas in the autumn wind. I called the wind to dance around her, hugging her and tickling her face. With a giggle, she chased after them, trying to pluck the leaves from the breeze.
I twirled them behind her, and she turned after them as she skipped along. I moved them this way, and she followed. That way, and she pursued. At one point, she tripped over her feet, but I caught her with the wind, pulling a chocolate form her bag and placing it on my altar. Again, she chased, with each step loosening up and twirling with more grace than any moment before. She twirled, she hopped, she dashed and skipped along the stone floor. She leapt and laughed, her dress fanning out around her as petals around a sunflower. And at last, with a final whip of the wind, she caught a leaf in her hand, finishing our dance. With the last of my strength, I returned the chocolates to her, my power fading. I may have wanted them, but as a just god, I knew she had earned them. The last thing I saw was her smile as she dropped them into her mouth, saying thank you to the dancing leaves.
A week or so later, she came back, calling for the leaves again, as would become the habit. Friends came with her sometimes, asking for help with homework or coloring a picture. I helped where I could, and they left me chocolates every time. While I still prefer gold, I must say, there is nothing like a candy bar in the mouth of a starved god. Before long, they all started calling me Windy, the helpful wind. My brothers and sisters would laugh, but at least now, I was remembered.
Even if I couldn’t use the roaring thunder, I’d take a whispering breeze. Even if I had lost my people, I’d cherish this adorable circle of children. And, even if it wasn’t the name muttered by Myra’s lips, this god would watch out for the girl and her friends no matter what they called him. A grimacing old woman isn’t nearly the fun a grinning little girl is, anyway.
Don’t worry, Daisy. Windy will always be here to dance with you. | A noise woke me from my millennium long nap. Opening my eyes, I saw a very small girl with black hair and blue eyes hiding behind my fallen statue. Apparently, she had just run into my temple, and tripped near my alter. As she had tripped the objects in her pocket had fallen out and landed on my alter. The objects that landed where shiny round metal discs that I assume are money and what looked like melted goo. Less then five minutes after her arrival two slightly bigger, older children ran into the temple.
“Where is she?” stated the boy. “I told you not to dump water onto her.”
“You’re the one who wanted to dump her into a mud puddle.” Stated the girl after taking a quick look around. “Come on she’s not here. Let’s go back home. The little baby probably ran back home to tell aunt Doddy that we were mean to her.”
“Besides its too dark in here anyway. Ain’t the baby afraid of the dark anyway?” stated the boy as they left my temple.
After about ten minutes of listening to see if the two had left the area the little girl climbed out from behind my fallen statue and looked at her items scattered on my alter. “Oh no, my candy melted,” she exclaimed as she began to gather her items from the ground.
“Hello,” I asked as I made myself visible behind her. She then jumped startled, and landed on my alter again for a second time today.
When she saw me, she then proceeded to relax a little bit. “Who are you?” she questioned.
“My name is Tye,” I answered. “I saw those two chases you into this old temple here. Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she answered. “They’re just my two older cousins. They pick on me because they hate when mom and auntie tell us to go out and play. Auntie always tells them to watch me because I am so much littler than them. Instead, they always spray me with the hose or throw bugs into my hair. I also have to see then in school too. My name is Valerie by the way.”
“That’s horrible” I exclaimed. “They should not treat family like that priestess.”
“Did you just say Priestess?” asked Valerie.
“No,” I answered.
With a funny look on her face Valerie then asked “Do you want a piece of candy? Sorry if it’s a little melted. Its been in my pocket all day.” She then withdrew the mystery goo from her pocket. She then took the shiny yellow wrapper off of one of the goo objects I had seen fall out of her pocket earlier. “See its still good just pinch off the part sticking out of the wrapper,” she pinched of the fuzzy piece of the treat and then stuck the rest into her mouth as she held out a second piece to me.
“Thank you,” I answered. As I repeated her actions and then stuck the treat into my mouth. As soon as I bit down I felt the energy of a believer and possible friend flow through me. I could also now read Valerie’s thoughts since she had been the first person to visit my temple in 1,000 years. I could hear her gratefulness for having someone her own age to talk to that wasn’t a mean cousin. A friend instead that actually asked how she was doing. “So were do you live?” I asked.
“Just down the road, first house on the left. Its blue.” She said. “Would you like to come to dinner at my house tonight? We’re having pizza.”
“Ok,” I answered not being sure of what this pizza thing was all about. “You first my lady.”
Giggling she ran out of the door with a shout of “Follow me!”
I ran out the door then started to chase her down the road. I thought about what I would do to those cousins of hers is they laid a hand on my priestess again. I the deity of the oppressed and bullied, Tyetless would not stand for my priestess to suffer at their hands. And if they did, they would not see it coming since I could follow her wherever she went since I looked her age. Besides who would believe them if they said a little five year old was “terrorizing” them. | 2021-09-02T12:46:28 | 2021-09-02T12:03:56 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] It is the end of days. God and Lucifer stand before the last human being. You are the first neutral soul who is neither good or evil enough to pass into a afterlife and thus must be judged personally. Unknown to them, you are Death and have come for them instead. | They looked tired, incredibly so. I felt bad for them, I knew what they were going through, I had been going through that same process for ages now. It wasn't the same though, I was built differently. This little hunk of rock where the three of us stood was the last bastion of life in the universe. The crunch had begun a while ago, but to me it seemed like only yesterday.
"You," Lucifer said, chuckling. "You were surprisingly hard to find. This wouldn't have happened a couple of years ago."
"What's time anyways?" I asked, smiling. "A couple of years don't really mean much at this point."
The gorgeous man nodded before glancing up at the sky. It didn't look the way it was supposed to. This planet should've had an atmosphere similar to Earth's, where it all started, but in this moment, as the entire universe engulfed it, it was surrounded by the greatest firework show ever to exist.
"Well," God said, His voice granfatherly yet clearly exhausted. "It's time for you to come with us."
I shook my head.
"The universe is ending, little one," God told me. "There is not much time left for us."
Lucifer's eyes darted towards God, but he didn't say anything. I could tell that the fallen angel was scared. As scared as a mere mortal would've felt. God Himself wasn't scared, he was all-knowing, all-powerful. Well, almost. Much like Lucifer, God didn't know what was going to happen next and that meant that he couldn't control it either.
"There's not much time left," I agreed, sitting down on a rock. "But you're not here for me."
"What do you mean?" God asked.
Lucifer realized who I was first. The nature of his job meant that he was more intimately familiar with what I was. We had never interacted directly, but the cynical and jaded angel knew me as well as anyone. That doesn't mean much, but it was a curious surprise.
"So we are mere mortals after all, then."
God may have not known me as well, but He was no slouch in the deduction department either.
"Huh," he muttered. "I can honestly say I never expected this to happen."
I shrugged slightly. "You guys usually don't."
The two of them looked at each other. "A cycle?"
"Endless," I confirmed.
"So we'll come back?" Lucifer asked.
"No," I said sighing sadly. "Each universe is self contained, infinitely similar and infinitely different from the last."
"That's a paradox," God said, smiling. "So you can't stop this then?"
I shook my head.
The two entities looked at each other. For eons they had been the singular most powerful forces in the entirety of the universe. God had given Lucifer powers that no other angel had ever had. Their mission had gone exactly the way God had planned it to and humanity reached its true potential. It was a damn shame that it had coincided with the end of the universe. A damn shame.
"We did well," God told Lucifer. "I'm proud of you."
"Someone had to be the bad guy," Lucifer replied, tears forming in his eyes.
"It's time," I told them as the planet began to rumble.
"What happens next?" God asked. The irony of that question was lost to no one.
I shrugged. "Even I don't know."
Lucifer cleared his throat. "Let's move this along shall we?"
The two of them looked at each other for a moment before walking towards me. God placed his arm around Lucifer, embracing him like a son for the first time since he had cast him down from Heaven. Lucifer hesitated before returning the gesture, patting God's shoulder twice before closing his eyes.
I approached them and placed my hands in either of their shoulders. An instant was all it took and they were gone. I only had a few more instants before the universe collapsed upon itself. I spent them briefly wondering where the two entities would go after dying. Maybe they would simply cease existing, taking all human souls to the void with them, or maybe they would go to a higher Heaven. It was a mystery that I had long since come to terms with.
"All's well that ends well," I said as the universe exploded outwards yet again. | This world is empty of all life, save three.
These two beings have fought for thousands upon thousands of years; one with the bearded and perpetually sad face of a father who has watched his children fail and falter, the other with the inhumanly beautiful face of a marble statue, with neither sadness nor joy, only a smug superiority. These two now stand in front of me seeking to pass judgement.
"Joshua, I am unable to read your life as I have others. How and why do you disguise yourself from me my son?" This asked by Yahweh, Jehovah, or God. He was intolerant of any other being going by the latter title.
"Can you not tell? He is the last, he is unique. He sees himself as beyond judgement and so he belongs to me." This was said by Lucifer, or Satan, or the Devil.
"You seek to judge me personally, and yet seek to stand above those that have been judged thus far." I had had enough of these two.
"Your conflict has torn this world and sundered the lives of billions. You have created a baron wasteland of the earth where no life is able to find purchase. Billions have died, in pain or instantaneously while you two continue your schoolyard brawl."
"But they have gone to Heaven."
"Or to Hell."
"Indeed, and what remains of your conflict? The ever loving Father who damns his children to eternal torment seeks to judge others? Or you, the jealous son who rails and rebels, and yet creates a place where he enjoys the torment of those his Father rejected, as he himself was rejected."
They both stood speechless. No mortal has ever spoken to them in such a way, they clearly were not used to having the unbiased truth in front of them. But this is what I did, in all else, I was the Truth.
"I stand before you and you seek Judgement... Well I refuse. I cannot Judge or be Judged. I simply am. I am the inevitable and the inexorable. I have walked this Earth and laid my hand on those who would go to Heaven or to Hell. I am indiscriminate. And I am Final."
I grabbed each by the hand. They stared at me, confusion leading to comprehension leading eventually to fear.
"Don't be afraid now. There is no bargaining, no judging, no extension, and no reprieve. You can count yourselves lucky, this is painless. Your struggle is over."
They both began to talk at once, speaking over each other to form an incomprehensible jumble of nonsense.
"Shhhh now. There is only quiet now." I looked them each in the eye and smiled, warmly I hoped.
"After all, all things must end." | 2015-10-19T14:41:33 | 2015-10-19T13:43:27 | 214 | 13 |
[WP] As you complete the ritual, your friends freak out when the demon appears before them, thinking you're going to make a deal with it. Little do they know, the demon is the one who owes you something. | My dinner guests sat in frozen fear. Watching as the lights were rapidly turning off and on, the smaller items on the table began to float and the only sound breaking the silence was my voice speaking in a deep-toned and saying various things in Latin that no one but me understood. When I told them I had a cool trick I wanted to show off they were expecting maybe something with playing cards or maybe pulling a small animal out of a hat. They were not expecting me to summon a demon to our quaint little dinner party.
The room began to shake and then with a burst of bright light, a pillar of fire erupted from the middle of the table, blinding everyone who was gathered around the table for a few seconds. When vision came back they saw the pillar was gone but now standing on top of the scorch marks was a demon. An actual f\*cking demon.
“BEHOLD, I AM DUROZ, LORD OF DESPAIR AND THE THING THAT HAUNTS YOUR NIGHTMARES. WHICH OF YOU FOOLISH MORTALS HAS SUMMONED ME?”
The demon slowly turn around with a menacing looking around, before his eyes landed on me and the look of menace turned to that of disappointment. He brought his hand up to his face and rubs his temple before letting out a deep sigh.
“God damned it Greg, this is the 3rd time this week, what was so important you had to summon me to the mortal plane again?”
I met his eyes with a smirk and replied “As you can see I’m entertaining guests and wanted to show them a fun trick. Also the store was out of the dessert I was hoping to serve tonight so I thought you could “magic” me up some for these fine folk” as I gestured towards my terrified guests.
“parlour tricks and dessert? Are you kidding me?”
“Nope”
“You know I’m one of the lords of hell right? Bringer of despair, the –“
I cut him off “yeah yeah despair and nightmares. You are also the demon lord who lost in a bet against me and now you have to do what I say, do you need me to read the contract again?”
His eyes dropped to ground and he mumbled “no…”
“sorry I cant hear you” I replied in a mocking tone
“NO YOU DON’T HAVE TO READ THE CONTRACT ….. now what dessert can I get you?” he replied in a defeated voice | *O friend! Step back! This has gone too far, end it!*
*Wash the chalk with water,*
*This hellish deal must not be writ!*
Never! for this creature owes me its life,
The ethereal magic it holds is mine,
For IT! Cut through the bargain like a knife!
**Tis true, it is you I owe, Master what be your wish?**
**I have but this night to stay,**
**For then I must go home to the realm of the fiendish!**
Give me your rule over death, and there I will stay,
To reap the life of those not kind,
And to me the Mortals will Pray!
<insert demonic laughing noises>
***This thing sucks but I still posted it :)*** | 2022-02-16T11:52:38 | 2022-02-16T11:11:59 | 190 | 12 |
[WP] After being told she had an accident and had "gone to heaven", his mind exploded in a white hot rage. 7 year old Roger wants his kitty back and God doesn't know what's about to hit him. | The day was chilly, a fall breeze that hinted at the coming winter, but still decent enough to enjoy the weather. I always let Roger have an hour to play outside with his friends before he did his homework, and that would continue as long as he had the desire to do so. Mostly because I recalled being done with my homework after dark and then being stuck indoors as a child, a huge and irrational injustice in my mind at the time.
At the end of the block, waiting with the three other parents that fielded oncoming children, I smiled as Roger quickly descended the bus steps. “Hey bud!”
“Hi mom!” he rushed up to me and gave me a drawing he’d done at school. “We did this in art class. What do you think?”
I looked it over and my eyes widened, honestly impressed with his work. “This is really nice!” I told him loudly as the bus pulled away with a roar of its engines. “Definitely fridge-worthy.”
He grinned as we walked up the block toward our house, chattering on about his day. My eyes were then drawn down the street to movement, spotting King Maximus III, or as he was more commonly known, Max, Roger’s cat. Spotting the young boy, the cat made to cross the street. “Hey, think he caught anything today?” Roger asked.
And that was it. A car that I’m sure was breaking the speed limit of our pedestrian street sped by just before Max could reach the opposite sidewalk, knocking the cat under its front bumper like it was tissue paper. Without so much as a hesitation, maybe even not knowing it had hit anything, it continued on down the road and disappeared. Roger let out a shriek of despair and terror and immediately bolted forward.
“Roger!” I yelled, looking both ways but gratefully seeing no cars. But another careless driver could come by at any moment and that fear clutched my chest tight, my eyes darting around. Tears came to my eyes as Roger dropped to the cat’s side. Unmoving, its eyes frozen open and its tongue poking out with the tiniest bit of blood leaking from its mouth, it had clearly died on impact.
Covering my mouth with my hand, tearfully crouching by Roger’s side as he wept over his friend, begging him to wake up, I closed a hand over his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, baby,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry, this is so horrible…”
“Wake up!” Roger screamed, his delicate hand sliding over the cat’s still-warm body a stark contrast to his sadness and anger. “Max! Maximus!”
And then something else hit me, like the car that had hit our cat, directly in the chest, as I saw Roger’s eyes start to glow.
My body stilled, shock suddenly turning me into a statue, and then a flood of cold fear enveloped me. It only lasted for a moment, though, before I swept Roger up in my arms and bolted for the house. “Emily!” called a voice after me, one of the parents that had been watching despairingly with their children. The reminder of their presence only made me run faster, made me bury my son’s face into my shoulder with one hand, hoping they’d assume it was to comfort him and dry his tears on my shirt.
Roger struggled and screamed at me to let him get back to his cat, significantly strong at the tender age of seven, but he was no match for a mother’s terror. We burst through the front door, me clutching him with one arm and closing and locking the door behind us before I put him down. He lunged for the door, his eyes bright as light bulbs at that point, making me squint against them and eventually need to move my gaze to his forehead.
“Roger, please, take a breath,” I choked out, relief tentatively soaking through me, safe now that we were back at home. He unlocked and yanked at the doorknob even as I pressed my sneaker against it with the full weight of my body, holding it shut. “Sweetheart, please! Your eyes!”
That somehow broke through and with a face that suddenly twisted in confusion as he halted his resolute attempt to get back out to his deceased pet, he looked to me. “Mommy?” he whimpered. “My eyes are…they’re glowing. Why’re they doing that?”
My hand went to my mouth, my lower lip trembling and tears coming to my eyes. I took a long breath to calm my racing heart. “It’s a big deal, it’s a grown-up talk,” I explained quietly. “And I’m sorry, I never knew this would happen, especially not like this, or I would’ve told you.”
“What…what is it?” he whispered. At the shift in emotions, his anger fading way in the wake of concern, the light in his eyes dimmed down until it was just a pleasant glow. But tears still flooded from his eyes, his emotions still in full swing.
“Can you sit down with me?” I asked.
He slowly lowered himself to the hardwood floor and I took his hands in mine, crossing my legs under myself, moving my focus from the door now that I no longer needed to barricade it. “You know your daddy left because he…he wasn’t ready to be a daddy, right?”
“Right,” he whispered.
“There’s a reason for that,” I told him. “Your daddy…is an angel.”
Roger stared at me for a long moment in confusion. “Like the ones in heaven? He died?”
“No, no, sweetie, like a real angel. One of the ones God made.”
His little face went slack in shock, clearly unable to absorb what I was telling him, and I let the silence stretch to give him time to do so. By now his eyes had dulled back to their normal green color. “Is that why my eyes got bright?”
“I think so,” I murmured. “I never… I didn’t know we would have a baby. You know we talked about how grownups have babies?”
“Sex,” he said, nodding.
“Yes. We loved each other very much. And we had sex. And we didn’t think we would make a baby. But we made you.” I smiled shakily, reaching out with a hand and brushing the tears from his eyes. “Beautiful, wonderful, special *you*. But Roger, and I’m really sorry about this, but you have to stay a secret. Because you’re not supposed to be allowed. A human and an angel making a baby is against the rules. Against God’s rules.”
Roger’s eyes widened in fear. “What?”
“That’s why I had to get you inside,” I explained, taking his hands again. “The house is warded, shielded, protected, and anything you do with whatever powers you might have in here is safe. But out there…” I glanced at the door, the flimsy piece of wood that didn’t betray the powerful magic flowing through the beams and struts and foundation and roof of our home. “Out there someone could find you if they notice you.”
Roger fell silent. “That’s scary,” he whispered. “Would they hurt me?”
My grip on his hands tightened. “I don’t know. That’s what’s scariest to me.” I took a breath and let it out. “I’m sorry. I know this is a lot, this is *real* grown-up stuff, but I know you’re strong and you’re smart. And we’ll talk more about this, I’ll answer any questions you have. Okay?” After hesitating, his face wary and thoughtful, he nodded slowly.
The one thing I didn’t tell him was that I didn’t even know if it was too late. I didn’t know if that flash of power had already set off an alarm somewhere, if an angel, or Roger’s father himself, might show up at my door at any moment. So, when there was a rapid knocking at our door, I took in a sharp breath as my heart lurched in my chest. Trying to keep the fear from my face, I stood up as Roger did the same, moving away from the door so I could open it.
“Hey, I think you called it too early,” said Muriel Reba, a neighbor of ours down the street. And in her arms was the very calm, very much *alive* cat that had been dead moments earlier.
“Max!” Roger cried out, bursting into tears again, this time with relief, as he took his cat in his arms. Max was endlessly patient with Roger and a total lovebug and pushed its head into Roger’s chin lovingly.
And I stared, Muriel continuing to speak but not hearing a word of it. My son had brought his cat back to life. Or, perhaps, just saved him from the brink of death, having gone to his side so quickly? Regardless, this was more than a blip on the radar. This was extraordinary.
And as I continued to stare at Roger’s tearful, joyous face, a nauseous fear roiled inside me at the thoughts that had rarely bothered me for so long. Thoughts of how long I could keep him hidden. And what happened when I no longer could.
&#x200B;
/r/storiesbykaren | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc -1, Part 3: Roger v.s. A Godlike Government.)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections; however, there are references to other stories which I've linked in the text. For continuity purposes, I gender-swapped the cat to be male.)
**Apparently, God wore a crisp black suit and a shiny shield badge.** At least, that was what Roger had learned today. He'd been playing hide-and-seek in the front yard with Connor when an unmarked car slid up and a man with a cage walked out. The man didn't see him—Roger was *really* good at hide-and-seek. Roger watched him warily as he swiftly strode towards the faded front door of their ramshackle, one-story house; Connor had some kind of job at a Tupperware factory, and had barely managed to afford a place for him and his younger brother, and he'd impressed into Roger the need to treat everything carefully, because they really couldn't afford to fix something if it broke—and if their house got too damaged, then they had a choice between living on the streets or going back to their father.
Roger knew which one he'd take in a heartbeat. They'd fought too hard to get independence from Mathias.
Evidently, the man with the suit and cage didn't agree, because he took one look at the locked door and rammed his fist on it, shaking splinters from its frame as he went. "OPEN UP! This is the Califerne Animal Control Department!"
Connor was at the door in a flash; Roger instinctively concentrated harder on staying hidden. He looked at the man in the suit and marshaled his scowl into a pleasant expression. "Connor Elman. How can I help you?"
The man flashed a badge at Connor's face. "We received a report from one Mathias Elman that you've been harboring a dangerously feral animal in your home."
Roger's eyes widened. *Dad* had sent him? Did he hate them so much that he had to send government spooks after them? And a dangerously feral animal? The only animal in the house was Zeus, and he wouldn't hurt a fly.
Except... except for [that one time](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/motpak/wp_humans_have_been_giving_their_pets_god_names/), the night they left, and Dad had tried to hurt Connor and Zeus. Zeus had gotten *mad*, then, and Roger heard that Dad had gotten pretty scratched up.
But... why would Dad do that?
Connor clenched his fists. "I'm not letting you take Zeus."
The man raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid that, unless you have documentation of ownership, then regardless of what you think you can *let* me do, I will be leaving here with Zeus."
He was pushy, too. And rude. Roger's teacher would have put him in the time-out corner.
Connor did his best impression of Mr. Stal, all firm and insistent and refusing to bow down in the face of a childish bully. "And I'm afraid that you're standing on privately-owned property. Property that I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
The man smirked. "Of course, of course. And I can't be held liable if any unowned property just happened to come with me." He opened up a plastic bag of something that smelled pungent and meaty, and turned around to leave.
Connor gave him a quizzical, look, but Roger got it immediately—even before he heard Zeus' thudding footsteps cascading towards the front door.
Cat treats.
Connor realized too late. "Zeus, *no!*" He tried to snag Zeus out of the air with a Tupperware bin, but the nimble cat just moved too fast. The man deftly caught Zeus and unceremoniously shoved him into the cage he'd brought with him; too late, Zeus realized he'd been trapped.
"Who the hell do you think you are? You can't just steal my cat!" Connor stormed forward.
"Oh, I'm sorry—did you say this was your cat? I seem to recall you failing to provide documentation for him." Zeus hissed at the bars of his cage; the man placed him in the passenger seat and shut the door. "If you feel like you've been slighted, you can feel free to take it up with the Califerne office. We'll get back to you within six to eight business weeks."
Connor seemed like he was going to surge at the man and knock his teeth in; the man just stood there, leaning against his car, arms folded.
Connor hesitated, the fury in his mind cooling off. Roger could almost hear his older brother going over the lessons he'd drilled into Roger himself. *Think,* Connor would be musing. *He's being deliberately provocative. He's trying to bait you into attacking him—and that'd make your problems infinitely worse. We have enough trouble staying away from Dad without me losing my job.*
Connor clenched his jaw and stopped. "I'll do that."
The man smirked, eyeing their house's obvious lack of a car. "It's quite a long walk up the Califerne strip, but I'm sure you'll manage it."
And he slipped into his perfect black sedan and drive away.
Connor watched him go for a heartbeat. Then two. Then five.
Then he hung his head. "Zeus..." he whispered.
Roger moved up next to his older brother. "...Connor, what... what happened to Zeus?"
Connor swallowed. "He... got taken. Dad must've—that spiteful little—"
"Like Mom got taken?"
Roger's brother flinched. He looked down at his younger brother with mournful eyes. "...Exactly like that, yeah."
"So Roger's in Heaven right now? With Mom?"
Connor stopped walking and slumped over. "God. God, I hope so."
Roger frowned, his young mind turning over the words. "Who... who's God?"
Connor snorted. "The government might as well be God. They can just... storm into our house and snatch up one of our family members and we can't do a damn thing about it."
Slowly, a fury bubbled up in Roger's chest, a leonine, leashed energy like Zeus right before he pounced. "Yeah, we can," Roger snapped. "The God-government's trying to take our kitty away? Let's take him back."
Connor looked at his younger brother, then pulled out his cellphone, a flicker of determination coming to life in his eyes. "You're right." He selected a contact—his only contact, really. "We can take him back. But we'll need help."
He showed the contact to his brother, who squinted at the photo uncertainly.
And [Clara Olsen](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mot0ex/wp_the_ocean_can_be_scary_and_so_can_many_of_the/) stared back.
A.N.
I'm trying something new! "Bargain Bin Superheroes" will be an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. | 2021-04-13T13:17:20 | 2021-04-13T12:04:03 | 86 | 20 |
[WP]: "I'm sorry. I just don't understand how you managed to fuck up a five-word sentence, offend the inhabitants of three planets and start a world war at the same time." | Here are the facts:
1) The Varbloxians of Varb 3 have a very particular conversational structure, comprised of facial expressions and words in equal part. Gestures with other organs is viewed as taboo, resulting in a culture where few Varbloxians ever attempt walking and talking at the same time.
2) The prevailing predators of Varb 3 (and, until the invention of the Voobler Slinger, the greatest threat to Varbloxian bodily integrity) have a distinctive attack pattern, comprised of widening their ingestion cavity and lifting their tentacles in preparation for a fatal slam-attack.
3) The Voobler of Varb 7 have a telepathic connection with the rest of their species, a trait that has developed both a wondrously peaceful and honest culture, and the most effective news-dissemination service since the bombing of the Pay-to-Snitch Gossip Company by Mrs Geraldine Smythe of Wentworth, New England, 1976.
4) The Voobler, being highly tuned to each other's mental pattern, have a very limited sense of self, resulting in a society that believes pretty much anything another sentient being tells it.
5) The Haff-Haff of Varb 9 are a highly familial species, worshiping an All-Father named something that sounds, to those unskilled in speaking in three-part harmony, like "Tah K'may", and an All-Mother, "Leegha".
6) The Haff-Haff are also all clones of the original, orphaned son of the All-Parents. They're very emotional. They don't like to talk about it.
It is with this in mind that post-war historians reflect upon the actions of Commander Lt. J. Rossly on V-Day and agree that landing in a field on Varb 3, during a in-depth conversation between a Varbloxian, a Voobler and a Haff-Haff, raising his hands, smiling and saying, "Take me to your leader", might not have been the most well-planned first contact. | Why? What's wrong with it?
> "Uranus, the perfect honeymoon destination!"
That will propel our newest space colony in the social media on the Internet. It should get us tons of followers on Spacebook and new tourists wanting to spend their wedding vacation here.
We also made sure to mention our favorite moon hotel locations in the further subtext.
> "Choose between Miranda, Ariel and Titania for the best views on Uranus and enjoy their hospitality." | 2015-06-19T05:51:39 | 2015-06-19T03:51:32 | 72 | 32 |
[WP] On the first manned mission to Mars, a crew of seven astronauts loses contact with Mission Control upon entering the atmosphere. After landing, they look up into the Martian night sky, wherein Earth appears to be missing. | The shortest horror story ever written reads: The last man on Earth sat alone in his house; suddenly, there came a knock at the door. People love that story, but no one ever considers the alternatives: what if he was not the last man on *Earth?*
July 22nd, 2052, a monumental day in human history. Myself and six other men and women were chosen to be the forerunners to Martian colonization. We were loaded up with everything we would need in order to begin the terraforming process, and with much fanfare we were sent off into the blackness of space towards Mars. One hundred and sixty days of trying not to get on each other’s nerves lay ahead of us before we reached Mars, and then we had another 730 before we would see the next ship.
“Alright, who’s up for another game of Cards Against Humanity?” Captain Adam Barlow said as he pulled the deck out with a smile. He loved that game, and had somehow managed to sneak the full game on board the ship.
“Count me out, you twisted fuck,” I said with a laugh as I pushed off towards the hydroponics room. I really didn’t need to check on the water and oxygen levels yet, but it always gave me a good excuse to miss out on the game.
“You’re just a PR man’s wet dream, Alex,” Adam said as he pulled out the cards and began tossing them around in the air to ‘shuffle’ them.
“You’re just sore that he’s better at this game than you, Adam,” Kate Williams said as she floated into the room.
“Yea, yea, rub it in, Kate,” Adam said as he recollected the cards. “Hey, Charlotte, Vanessa, Jacob, Eric, any of y’all interested in this?”
A small chorus’ of ‘yes’ and one ‘no’ echoed throughout the ship, and Charlotte, Jacob and Eric floated into the room. “Deal me in, Cap’n,” Charlotte said in her best ‘Scotty’ voice as she situated herself. She winced momentarily, pulled a socket wrench out of her back pocket, and sent it floating back the way she came.
“Don’t lose that,” Eric said as he moved over beside Charlotte.
“It’s not your engine room that’ll fail if I do, now is it,” Charlotte asked in a mockingly sweet voice. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to be on the horn in case Houston calls?”
“Vanessa wanted to do it. She likes the view up front,” Eric said as he finally got settled.
“Mars still getting bigger,” Kate asked as Adam handed her several cards.
“We’ll be there in about a week,” Adam said as he finished dealing the cards and set the remaining in front of them. “Now, who pooped last?”
I could hear this entire conversation in the hydroponics room, as sound carried very well. I smiled to myself, and felt a small twinge of guilt for not joining in. This would be one of the few remaining days of leisure we would have before we had to start getting everything prepped for landing. If I had been able to predict the future, I would have insured that I stayed and played the silly game. I would have told them how much I appreciated working with them. I would have done a lot of things differently.
Eric noticed it first. He was back on call duty for staying in touch with Houston, and I overheard him talking to the Captain as I worked on finishing up the oxygen farm for the habitat.
“What the hell do you mean it’s gone!?”
I looked over and saw Eric trying desperately to indicate that Adam needed to keep his voice down. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with Houston for three days now, and nothing.”
“Atmospheric disturbance?”
Eric shook his head, “Vanessa and I pulled out her telescope, the one we were going to use to get some good star mapping information with, and we looked in the direction of Earth.” He lowered his voice to just above a whisper, but I still caught the phrase, “Earth is gone.”
I wiped my hands off and walked over to the two men. They looked at me with fear, but then Adam put on his best ‘everything is okay’ face and said, “Alex, what do you need?”
“What’s this about Earth being gone?” I asked simply. I threw the towel I was using over my shoulder and gave them my best ‘don’t fuck with me’ look. Both men looked sheepishly at each other before Adam sighed heavily.
“Earth is gone,” he said simply. “I suppose you heard about the telescope?”
I nodded, “No radio contact, no visual contact, are we sure we’re looking in the right place?”
Adam looked at Eric, who nodded, “Vanessa is 100% confident she’s looking in the right place.”
“Did they blow themselves up while we were gone,” I asked simply. International tensions were fairly good when we left, but that was almost 6 months ago. A lot of things could happen in that amount of time.
Eric shook his head, “There is literally nothing there. No dust, no rocks, nothing. It’s like Earth never existed.”
Adam sighed again, a sudden weight of his command weighing on his shoulders. He still had Jacob, Kate and Charlotte to inform of this new development. “Where’s Vanessa?”
Eric shrugged, “She’s still outside with the telescope. I assume she’s trying desperately to find Earth.”
“Bring her inside,” Adam said, “We need to have a meeting.”
It was the frantic radio chatter ten minutes later that brought all of us to airlock 3. Eric stood there, holding a limp Vanessa, her face mask destroyed. “She scrawled a note in the dust,” Eric said as he tried to control himself. “Said that without Earth, and everyone on it, she had nothing.”
We buried her beside the habitat, and tried to continue with our lives, but there was no hope for us out here, nothing. There was no resupply, no chance at going home, nothing. Vanessa’s choice began to look more and more appealing to the crew, and slowly but surely, everyone went away.
Kate woke up one day and just walked outside, no spacesuit or anything. She walked as far as she could go until she dropped.
Charlotte ‘accidentally’ overloaded a reactor right into her body. There wasn’t much left to bury.
Eric took a long walk off a nearby cliff. He never screamed.
Jacob spent every day on the horn trying to contact somebody. On the day he gave up, he said he was going for a walk. He never came back.
Adam was the last to go. He felt a sense of duty to the two remaining humans I suppose, but he blamed himself for the deaths of the others. I came into the mess room one day to find him slumped over the table. He had been drinking calcium nitrate for the whole night until it killed him.
I’m all that’s left now. I went through the motions, doing what I could to stay alive, too much of a coward to take the easy way out. I also felt a sense of duty, seeing as how I was the last person alive. I couldn’t just die and let the human race go extinct without at least giving it a good go.
It has been 892 days since we were launched from Earth to land on Mars, and for the past few hours I have been sitting and hiding in a corner of the habitat, afraid to move. I had been playing Cards Against Humanity with everyone, when a noise startled me out of my laughter. You see, approximately three hours ago, I heard a knock at the door.
------
[r/grenadiere42](http://www.reddit.com/r/grenadiere42) | Yana looked up at the Martian sky and saw no Earth.
It had been a week since they had landed on ground zero and lost contact with mission control. But the mission continued. Base camp was set up. Their living quarters erected at the fringes of their landing site. The buildings looked like ping pong balls, plastic and white. There were portlets at either side, a view to the red wasteland that abounded.
Pietr told the four astronauts that mission control had ceased its signals. Asked as to why, Pietr didn't know.
"Could be maintenance. Relay must've broke down," said Frank.
"If it were, they should've repaired it days ago." Pietr scratched his beard. "We'll keep the console up. If we get anything, I'll let everyone know."
Three days later, still no signal. The astronauts remained on their duties. Yana maintained the crop and their diet. She prepared a salad, cutting lettuce and tomatoes, throwing in some legumes until she saw something out in the surface of Mars.
Yana squinted at the sight. There, at the distance, were two people standing hand-in-hand, waving at her. Yana closed her eyes and shook her head. When she opened them, the two people remained, still waving at her.
"Is anyone out the perimeter?" Yana said through her intercom. No answer. She asked again, but still no reply.
Yana slipped in her suit and exited. The Martian winds carried dust and stone sideways, masking the two waving people, turning them into a mirage. She walked after them. And as she neared them, she stopped.
"Marion? Juliet?" she whispered.
"Yana! Ret...n to b...camp," a voice said through her intercom.
Marion and Juliet gestured her to come, bade her to take steps and be reunited.
An illusion, Yana thought, perhaps caused by stress. Yet she didn't turn nor did she move. She stood in the middle of the sandy gale like a statuette.
"Yan...turn...se...amp. Yana...urnt...bas...p."
Yana snapped out of her trance, turned away and ran. She heard nothing but static and sand pelting her helmet. As she neared base camp, a rock hit her knee. She fell screaming. She turned to where Marion and Juliet. They were walking towards her.
"Someone's out here! Pietr! Frank! Anybody! There's someone out here."
She turned to base camp. Two men in spacesuits ran out of the main pod, headed towards Yana. She was pulled up from the ground and dragged back to the main pod.
Pietr was furious. Yana told them that she saw two people out on the surface. Dana suggested that it was stress and exhaustion that might have caused her hallucinations. Yana nodded half-heartedly.
Back in her sleeping quarters, Yana looked outside through the window by her bed, Earth still missing from the night sky.
"You saw them too, didn't you?" Frank said. He was by his window as well, searching the wasteland.
"What did you see? How did they look like?" said Yana sitting at the edge of her bed.
"My grandpappy. And my mother. I always said they lookin' down, smiling on us. Didn't think from Mars." He turned from his window. "Who did you see?"
"My husband and my daughter."
"They alive?"
Yana shook her head.
The mission continued. Food supplies were normal. O2 recyclers functioned properly. They could survive on that planet for another three months barring any equipment failures.
At nights, Yana and Frank shared stories of their loved ones who had passed. They stopped looking outside their windows and spoke to one another face to face. Grandpappy died of a heart attack; momma too. Marion and Juliet was at an intersection when a bus rammed through them.
One morning, as Yana woke up to the dawning light, Frank was nowhere to be seen. She asked Pietr and Dana and Weyland if they saw Frank. They searched the other facilities, checked every nook and cranny, opened closets and trunks and cargoes.
His spacesuit was gone so he was out somewhere in the wastelands. They searched for his tracks, but none were left at the perimeter.
Pietr planned for a search. The four remaining astronauts were to split up and to remain in contact via intercom. Yana would take south, Dana the west, Weyland the east, and Pietr the north.
Yana walked on, scanning the ground for tracks, turning left and right for any sign of Frank. The weather was still, and the sun glared overhead. She turned her intercom and called for Frank, hoping he would respond.
Marion and Juliet appeared about a hundred yards away. They gestured for Yana to come. Juliet hopped on her feet in excitement, her smile almost touching her ear.
Yana closed her eyes and took deep breaths to calm herself down.
“Come home. Come home. C...me...ome...h..me…”
“You’re not real! Who are you? What are you? What did you do to Frank?” Yana opened her eyes. Marion and Juliet started for her, their steps slow and deliberate. They walked hand-in-hand.
“C..ome...h...ome...c...e...m...o.”
Yana cried and ran away. She kept her eyes at the base camp, small on the horizon. She followed the trail she had left and resisted the urge to look behind her.
When she reached base camp, Yana locked herself inside the main pod. She scrambled to the console and reached out to Pietr, Dana, Weyland.
“There’s something out there! Guys, if you hear me, there’s something out there!”
She waited for a response. It never arrived.
Night came and she was alone. Yana called out to her team, called out to mission control. She looked out the window at the emptiness, at the void above her. There was nothing out there. | 2015-07-08T07:27:00 | 2015-07-08T06:37:09 | 15 | 11 |
[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. | It stopped bothering me after I hit thirty.
After a while, you just do what you can to help them avoid their fate, and it becomes second nature.
Woman with the death sentence
> CHOKES TO DEATH DRINKING A VODKA AND COKE
while drinking a vodka and coke
Will have her drink stolen, smashed on the floor, and then I run.
I have been jailed multiple times.
I have recieved multiple ASBOs, and been warned and warned and fined. My life is a wreck, but I have been kept going by donations and inheritances to me, good natured people who set up funds to me before they die, in return for me having saved their lives at some point.
I am a good person, even if the nature of my existence means I must be a jackass who ruins people's day to make sure they live even a single day longer (if they seem to want that.). It doesn't help that I look a bit middle eastern due to my mum's side of the family being from that away. White people don't seem trust people who look naturally browner than them and have bushy eyebrows and curly hair, especially if they get all up in one's grill about them smoking nearby children.
But then I took a flight to NewYork. Holiday.
At first, it was fine. Ensured five people didn't die of starvation by sneaking a few dollars in their pockets.
Prevented a person choking on their toothbrush by stealing their toothbrush.
On the plane, winked at the stewardess, causing her death to change. I refuse to say what she was originally going to die of, but suffice it to say
> PAINLESS HEART FAILURE (AGE)
was an improvement.
But then, after the plane hit 3,000 the death sentences started to shift, and twist,
and every single one just had three letters and one word.
> CRASH WTC
WTC... World Trade Centre? How could it change without my influ- what.
As the arab man got up, the death sentences pulsed, and I got the sense that if I could see my own sentence, it would also say
> CRASH WTC
like the rest of the people on this plane.
I felt dizzy from the pulsating words I could not unsee, and got up, and flailed, trying to hit the shouty man with my iPod, not the best weapon to pick but it was what I had,
and the sensation of a ceramic blade entering my right
lung
and
the words
> STABBED BY KNIFE
appeared
i
n
my
v
i
s
i
o
n
a
b
o
v
e
me
| "Hi Sally" i said to my secretary as I entered my office.
"Mornin Mr King" she replied seemingly chipper as always, the large word suicide in bold red above her head seemed dimmer today. Maybe it was just me.
I see signs of how people die. Literal worded signs. Floating over their head and all.
If I told anyone they would think I was insane so I keep it to myself as much as I can.
Sometimes I can't help thinking I can make a change in people. Somehow change the way they die so it's more pleasant.
Take Sally for instance. When I first interviewed her the word over her head, suicide, was a brilliant crimson red. I thought that meant she was close to doing it. I wasn't going to hire her initially but then I thought why not. I swear the color got lighter when I offered her the job on the spot. Probably just wishful thinking. Poor kiddo I really like her.
I decided to take a walk outside for lunch since it was a nice spring day and that's when I noticed a change. A whole lot of people had tornado and an unbelievable amount had shark.
W.T.F.? | 2015-03-31T11:33:24 | 2015-03-31T10:08:20 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] We did it! We finally achieved FTL travel! At first, alien races seem thrilled to have a new neighbor. Then they seem terrified of us. We are the only ones to reach the stars with technology instead of magic. | "What are you doing?" I asked the green one as strange sounds that my translator couldn't keep up with issued from its mouth. I was a little nervous meeting so many different aliens in one setting.
"Please do not disturb me further, high mage," it said then continued.
"What's he doing?" I asked the smaller alien next to him, "And why is he calling me a magician?"
"He is doing a standard communication ritual," the small alien turned one of its eye stalks to me, "As a high mage you should be very familiar with it. Do you humarones have another spell you communicate with?"
"Humans," I corrected, "I'm not a mage. I'm a marine. First Officer Mitchell Rowls" I introduced myself.
"You must be a high mage," the alien said now turning both eye stalks to me, "You used a teleportation spell to get here. That takes decades, if not centuries, of practice and study to master. Only the top one percent of a species can achieve that level of mastery."
"Oh that," I said then patted my belt, "Standard Teleportation Unit, or STU junior, as we grunts call them. Can only teleport up to twenty kilometers though. We need a Long Range Standard Teleportation Unit to teleport across galactic distances. Those are STU seniors."
"Wait," the chanting suddenly stopped, aliens turned to me, "Are you telling me you use a *machine* to mimic one of the most advanced spells that only our elite can learn? That all of the trillions of humans can do this?"
"Why yes, anyone can teleport if they have a STU on them" I admitted and it felt like the air was sucked from the room and I could now smell the panic of a dozen different sentient species.
"We must kill them! Machine using heretics cannot be allowed to live as per the Covenant!" the alien yelled and chanting started all around me. I shouldered my plasma rifle as my helmet clicked into place, auto closing and sealing me in as my adrenaline levels skyrocketed.
"Stand down," I yelled, as trained, but my shields kicked in to full as fire, ice, rocks, and an alien equivalent of a kitchen sink bounced off, I keyed the safety off and fired. My suit was recording everything as pulse after pulse tore through the weak, magically summoned shields of the aliens.
"Rowls," a voice said through my comm, "You better have a damned good reason for discharging that... hold on, I'm getting reports of marines being attacked all across the surface of Utopia. Well, I guess war has just been declared on us. All teams, mass STU coming up. Hold still."
There was a flash and Rowls stood in the hangar bay of the Constitution surrounded by fully shielded marines who, just a second before, hand been part of the delegation to Utopia.
"How many casualties?" Colonel Asham asked, chewing on a cigar.
"Just one out of the four hundred sent down," his second in command answered, "Private Lansing's didn't react fast enough. She suffered severe freezing damage. Her conscious managed to upload in time though. We're prepping her clone now. Man, she's gonna be pissed."
"Gentlemen," the Colonel smiled and cocked his plasma rifle, smiling over his cigar, "The Alien Covenant just attacked us unprovoked at a goodwill meeting. It's time to show them what marines can do. More importantly it's time to show them what HUMANS can do. Prep the STU's. I want this planet in our hands by sundown, then we'll let the diplomats have their fun after teaching this scum a lesson. Gunners, soften 'em up."
We all ran for portholes as the big Plasma's fired downward. I smiled as I watched the fires starting miles below.
"Never start a fight you can't finish," I said and felt a hand on my shoulder. When I turned I found the Colonel's smiling face there.
"You're damned right, son," he said, "You're damned right."
| The Ship called the Jethroll Tow sat adrift in the inky blackness of interstellar space , and in it sat Chris Kirkland wearing a old peterbuilt trucker cap and a shirt calling back to a 70’s slogan Earth first we’ll strip mine the other planets later.
Well here we are.
He chuckled” it’s later.” Chris jammed his finger into the yellow button as the tow beam flickered to life, grabbing a large metallic meteorite from the cold depths of space..
Magic ... Chris idly though as he glanced down at a stack of old holocomic archives and to think it’s all true the old man and grandpa would of never thought ...
Chris looked down at the joystick as he idly shifted the meteorite into a hopper drone.
But it wasn’t magic that got us here. Chris said to the view screen alone..
Suddenly and with a ozone pop of static a being snapped into the empty seat next to Chris.
Chris spun around pistol drawn.
Who the hell are you?
I’m Blixsran. The orange skinned being replied terrified
We’ve been waiting and watching your kind. You need to stop your mining operations now.
Chris shrugged as he idly cocked the hammer back to the old pistol in his holster.
“And if I don’t? What are ya dam space Farries gonna do?”
The Blixsran puffed up as he pulled a long slender rod from his envio suit compartment.
“Oh just dispell you out of existence”
Chris chuckled as he jabbed the old revolver into the blix’s chest
“Try me.”
The Blixsran flicked his wand and Chris’s felt a small tingle at the back of his neck and pulling in his gut then nothing at all.
The Blixsran looked at Chris’s mortified.
Dispell! it stammers.
“Too late.” Blam!! Chris looks at the small hole in the Blixsran
The Blixsran laying on the deck plates his chest heaving as green oozes from the wound..
But magic.. it strains to say.
Chris chuckled as he blew the smoke off the old pistol.
“Don’t work on humans... We gave that crap up with the Egyptian...”
The Blixsran eyes widened as the light of life fades from him..
Chris looked down at the body and toed it with a greasy boot..
“They ain’t gonna learn we don’t need there dam magic..”
He cues up some classic Zombie and slings another meteor into the hopper drone.
| 2019-01-18T07:09:17 | 2019-01-18T06:19:16 | 3,830 | 139 |
[WP] The fact the uncanny valley exists is terrifying. Being scared by things that look almost human but aren't. Other animals do not have this. That means that at some point in our evolution, running away from things that looked almost human was advantageous enough to be imprinted on our genetics. | The EVA 201 class began. As we walked in, we waved our notebooks over the interface and the e-ink paper changed. I took a brief glance at what I presumed would be the syllabus, and found a table of contents:
**Pages 1-3:** Content warnings
**Page 4:** Infohazard waiver and consent form
**Page 5:** University policy on non-consensual disclosure
**Pages 6-10:** [locked pending acceptance]
The class was half empty.
"I'm sure that by now you've been familiarized with the scrutiny that an evolutionary anthropology class entails. When Dr. Sanchez pioneered his methods of correlational culture reconstruction, he thought it would bring us enlightenment, instead it brought us horror, hatred, and war. But humanity can't blind itself to the truth, even after all it's brought us. So we are the few, unlucky in my opinion, watchers, who study it for the benefit of the rest."
"I'm sure you are aware of the policy, but the rules say I need to say it out loud. The material presented in this class ranks a 5 on the individual scale, and a 7 on the societal scale. If you start spreading it to anyone who's not in our program, or didn't opt-out of infoprotection, you will not only be expelled from the program, but will be sanctioned by every major infosec company out there. Depending on the severity, you might be banned from posting on any platform with an infosec contract. People in that situation often end up posting on opt-outer forums, and reading what they post there. After that, few last more than a year before they end up in an insane asylum."
"So, don't do it. Also, there's a content warning section which I suggest you read carefully,"
Brian smirked. He was always one of those who think they're fearless and invincible. He joked about opting out pretty often.
"... even if you thought the previous classes weren't that intense. We will be watching video reconstructions from Pleistocene-epoch human cultures, for the first time, though not today. I've had a student who told me that he has seen "snuff films", and he still couldn't take it. Now, please sign your waivers so I can proceed."
Over the sound of people walking out the door, I signed both and immediately the next pages changed from a static blur to readable text.
**Page 6:** Intro to psychosymbiosis
**Page 7:** History of psychosymbiote-affected human cultures
**Page 8:** Extinct species
**Page 9:** Extant species
**Page 10:** Public safety implications
"As you may have guessed, this class is about the organisms which make their home inside human bodies, and affect our thoughts and behavior. Once you think about it, you may see it's obvious in hindsight. If we have pathogens that quickly evolve to exploit our other tissues and organs, why not exploit the brain? Especially since we have seen so many examples among other animals, like rabies or the Cordyceps fungus? Much of it is the fault of these organisms themselves."
"When a microbe infects an animal, it has to evade the immune system to survive, by an endless variety of means. The same goes for these, and over time they have learned to affect the brain, to hide their own existence. Some will delete thoughts and memories that hint at their existence. Others will act more violently, killing the host and releasing spores, or making the host kill the person spreading information about them. You all have been tested at the campus clinic to have relatively benign symbiotes, such as the genus *Pacipheria*, a clade that seems to tolerate people learning about it. That one does have amnestic and hallucinogenic properties that keep people from seeing the physical and behavioral effects of similar infections on others and themselves, but it doesn't seem to understand abstract academic terminology. So I can teach this class without fear of anything happening to you or me."
"But let this be another reminder to keep everything we talk about inside of the classroom. You can't know which of these your friends could be carrying, and how they will respond to a knowledge trigger."
The professor went on to explain with a professional tone, while everyone in the class reacted in stunned horror. Brian's smirk was gone from his face. Spores? Hallucinogenic? Physical effects?
"Humans have gone through a long co-evolution with these infestations. We would evolve some trait, and they would evolve to counter it. Because many of them tend to deform the human body, and tended to use the host and their deformations to do violence to hosts of competing symbiotes, our brain evolved an instinctive fear reflex towards humans who, how should I put it, 'don't look right'. In response, many of them, including *Pacipheria* adapted to block out that perception, and make all human-shaped creatures look normal, at least usually. In cases of reported sightings, it and many species will drive the host to disbelieve any accounts."
"By promoting the health and sanity of the host, it allowed humans to create civilizations and thus proliferate more. More hosts, more symbiotes. This is what we call a commensalist or even mutualistic symbiote. In the past, parasitic ones were much more common, and we still remember the more recent ones in traditions about "zombies", "monsters", "vampires", all of them coming from historical accounts of infested humans. However, remember that the modern world still hosts many different species, and few of them are as benign..."
An hour and a half later, I walked out the classroom in a daze. I learned a lot, about how competition and kin selection among different parasites led to wars and racism, about the genus responsible for what we have come to call "zombies" and some of the ones that were lost to oral history, and terms like "pseudo-neural mycelium" and "cognitostructural autoimmunity", (though the professor still refused to answer what was so disturbing about the Pleistocene epoch), but as I walked past what looked like normal college students, this one thought I couldn't get out of my head was "what would they truly look like through clear eyes?" | The retired professor turned this way and that, crazy haired and wild eyed, looking for something that wasn't there.
Sturbink's office light had shut off about thirty seconds ago. He had been lost in the research time vortex that afflicted adderall users everywhere, absorbed by first hand accounts of murders from the late 18th century. All of the reports had something in common; the witnesses glimpsed the killers before they vanished, and the killers always seemed achingly familiar, as if they were wayward family members of their unfortunate victims.
Sturbink kept returning to the same eyewitness account, fascinated by a gruesome series of murders in a shipyard in Liverpool. The witness survived by hiding in the half-completed hull of a British Man of War, where he watched his friends and coworkers die. When he was finally found he kept repeating the same line over and over.
*They came like wraiths in the night.*
The young man's story didn't hold up and he was deemed insane. He stood trial as the murderer and was promptly executed.
"No matter," Sturbink said, speaking defiantly to the pitch-black room. He had no family to speak of besides the wonderful woman who came twice a week to clean and do the dishes, so he was used to dealing with the old house's issues by himself. "Just bad timing. Been meaning to replace the light bulb."
He bit back a little frustration. So close to tying it all together... this eyewitness account had to contain the final thread in the riddle he had been trying to solve for a decade. Slowly but surely he had begun to uncover common themes in the murders, and now Sturbink was getting closer to understanding how it all fit into the bigger picture. These murders were related in some important way. The same patterns spanned for centures.
The retired professor groped around for his phone, feeling an intense sense of relief when his fingers brushed across the cold metal. "I'll just turn the flashlight on," he muttered.
Chilled sweat spewed forth, soaking his shirt in seconds.
A hand was placed on top of his, now frozen against the phone which still lay flat on the table. Eternity seemed to pass. Sturbink's vision adjusted until he could see an outline of the hand, which was covered in porcelain skin that almost glowed in the dark. His eyes followed the arm upwards to a face that stared at him with otherworldly intensity, its features blurred in the dark.
"So close," Sturbink said, eyeing the creature, feeling vindication amidst the pounding terror of his heart. He was right.
"You are close," the creature whispered. "So close to uncovering it all."
The being's breath was achingly cold, chilling the retired professor where it brushed across his skin. Slowly, surely, the being's features crystallized in the darkness until he could make out a younger Sturbink staring back at him, an unblemished face carrying a serene expression.
-----------------
"Fuck," Conrad was standing over the corpse, hands in his pockets, adopting the sarcastic tone of detectives everywhere. In this case it was warranted. The corpse's eyes were bulged and shot through with red veins, as if an unknown pressure threatened to pop them out of their sockets.
"Another freezer burn," Conrad said, pointing at Sturbink's clawed hand. "I swear we are seeing this shit more and more."
The entire house had been cordoned off, and all traffic had been re-routed through other neighborhoods, not that there was much this late at night.
The murder had been reported by a frightened maid earlier this afternoon, and the police presence had increased six-fold after it became clear who the victim was. This didn't make much sense to the two NYPD detectives who had been assigned to the case and ordered to catalog everything before the Feds arrived.
The victim was a conspiracy nut who had been a staple commentor on a few outspoken online forums. The guy had been a professor years ago, but for the last two decades of his life he had been a recluse. It was strange for the higher ups to show such an interest in a nobody troll on the internet.
"He was working on a novel or something," Tulfer said, eyeing the enormous amount of stacked documents on the table. The victim's laptop was still open, on a whim Tulfer put on a plastic glove and jiggled the mouse a bit, causing the laptop to spring to life. It did not prompt him for a password, instead opening straight to a word document. "Something called *Mirrored Species."*
"Bit of a lunatic, eh?" Conrad said. "FBI guys will be here in a few minutes, we should wrap it up."
The light clicked off. | 2020-09-15T13:29:59 | 2020-09-15T12:37:49 | 1,783 | 132 |
[WP] In the Academy for Knights, all students must bring their own weapon to matches against other students. You couldn't afford anything fancy, so you brought something more unconventional. | *Unconventional*, thats the word the registers used when I'd gone to enter the competition. They snickered and said that my weapon of choice was "unfit, ridiculous" and worst of all, that word: unconventional. I knew what they meant by it. They meant that I would lose. That I had no chance. But to me it was just a word meaning a lack of creativy.
I had seen the other contenders. Seen their *conventional* weapons. Yet what they failed to realize, what they all failed to understand is that all that conventional means is common. I have fought against every conventional weapon, trained against every great sword and rapier, bested every overconfident demeanor hidden behind a tower shield. And my opponents had too. What they hadn't fought was the unconventional. What they had to best...was me.
As I entered the tunnel I could barely hear against the roar of the crowd on the other side. Hundreds of voices it must have been, all stacked neatly on the stone benches that lined the colliseum. I was them just last year, watching in awe at the great warriors below. Baltghast had been my favorite. An underdog who wielded a large club that appeared homemade. The way the crowd hushed as he bested opponent after opponent, all untrained against such a beast of a weapon. Now it was my turn.
As I exited the tunnel opposite my opponent the crowd burst into new levels of sound. Upon seeing what I wielded though I could hear sections mumble in confusion, then others roar in bursts of laughter. Even my opponent, who had come forward until he stood facing me, could not keep the grin from his face. I would remove it.
A shortsword, he had. Arms length. Handsome, with inscribings that I'm sure meant something, but I didn't care to decipher. Instead I gripped tightly to the handle of the pan in my hands. A cooking pan, my family had it for quite some time. Heavy and dull. My mother told me to return it when I finished, and I intended to do just that.
I looked to the stand of past winners. Of champions the arena had granted fame. They stood in a box of ornery and gold, posing for their onlookers. Most of them looked to my rival with admiration, a few to me with grins, but Baltghast, he looked straight into my eyes. I could feel it.
There was no announcement, no bow, instead a simple clang of a gong and the match had begun. He swung down instantly, arms full of muscle. If a hit like that connected it would cut almost any man in two. He was bigger, stronger than me. The clear favorite of the two of us. If I had any conventional weapon it would be no contest, but I did not.
His sword connected with my pan and clanked off to the side, and I could feel the reverb from his power in my hands. He brought the sword up for a second, clumsier swing from the dirt, but I was already there. My pan inches from his head. With a loud *cla-ah-ang* my cookingware connected. The crowd gasped, then grew silent. My opponent fell in the dirt.
One lone set of hands clapped for me. The past champion with the club, clapped and nearly doubled-over in his seat from laughter. The rest stood in stunned silence.
But I was not done. Not even close. This was just one small victory in a sea of faces I'd defeat. I would steal the rest of their applause. | the arena was jam packed with spectators from all over the campus. My opponent was decked out in the best armor and gear money could buy. I myself wore a tunic and shorts. This was on purpose because it allowed more mobility. My weapon however was less than ideal. A small squeaky hammer. I enter the arena weapon ready. My opponent saw my weapon and laughed. After a minute to calm down he said "tell you what little guy. I'll let you get a free hit on me to make you feel good." I lean back to ready an attack then swing the hammer at him. To his surprise, and the surprise of the audience, he went flying across the arena and into the wall. This guy who was in heavy plate armor was just sent flying like a ragdoll. After getting up he said "what was that? Grrr. Time to get serious" he charged at me with sword raised. I nimbly Dodge and land a hit square on his back. Just like last time he went flying and skidded across the ground a ways. Also like last time he got up. I could tell he was mad. He goes for another hit and i sidestep ready to riposte. He saw it coming and blocked with his shield. His shield was knocked out of his hand and went flying out of the arena. While he was caught off guard I swing again and knock him in the air slightly as he flew. This was my strategy, win by wearing out my opponent. While it was viable it had two major weaknesses. One if the opponent was a speeder like me landing a hit would be difficult if not impossible. Second I wore no armor. So any hit I take would hurt. "Enough of this! Time to finish it!" My opponent charged at me with sword in both hands. I plant my feet, ready my weapon, and wait. Once he was close I land a solid hit knocking him up in the air. After a minute he fell back to the ground with a thud. "And we have our winner!" Called the announcer. "Our young squire!" | 2022-09-14T18:31:45 | 2022-09-14T16:33:52 | 149 | 11 |
[WP] You have the most useless superpower in a world full of awesome superpowers. You are a laughinstock, that is until you start using your power for evil... no one is laughing now. | Yeah yeah, I know. I'm no Superman or Batman. I'm not particularly flashy like Catwoman, or that gearhead Iron Man. I have no sex appeal, no super human strength nor that undying desire to do good. I didn't choose my power, none of us do. We're all equals before the reckoning power of the Initiation Day.
And yet, I see how they look at me. How they sneer at me. Laugh at me.
Growing up, we were all so close... This was before the Fantastic Four or the Avengers - even before the Initiation... As children, powerless, young, weak children, we were the best of friends. I remember sunshine, the warmth of summer, flowers and smiles. But not anymore. No. I cannot forget what they have done.
I will not reminisce. I will not let these shadows, traces of memories long gone distract me from my true calling.
While the Flash gained his super speed and Spiderman was granted his arachnid abilities, I was given this cursed "gift". My power, if you can even call it that, is the ability to influence colors. Okay, one color. Well, actually, it's more like I can absorb Green. That's it. No fighting skills, nor the intellect to be of any use to my old "friends".
I was envious, they said. As they worked together to train their new powers and skills, sorting into groups to best match up their strengths and weaknesses, I waited to be chosen. I sat patiently, looking at my "friends" for guidance and leadership. Surely they knew that I belonged too. They simply wanted to wait until they found the perfect place for me.
That was not the case.
I, in my youthful innocence, began to reach out to them. Asking for acceptance. Laughter followed. I was simply *jealous* of their new powers and friendships. *Take a walk* they crooned. *Cool your head. You'll feel better later, when you've relaxed. You'll never have a power like any of ours. There is no place for you here.*
Well fine. Perhaps there really is no place for me here. If I can't belong, if this isn't my home, then I'll do everything I can to make sure they too have no home, no place where they belong. If our world is full of anything, it is a pulsing strength, driven by pure green jealousy, pure rage.
Maybe my only power is domination over all that is green. Maybe that isn't enough for their superhero leagues. But for me, it is just enough. Just enough to exact my rage, my hatred, my revenge. Let us see if they laugh at Envy when they clutch their throats, begging for air. Regardless of how "super" they may be, none of them will survive in a world devoid of green. Green chlorophyll, chloroplasts, breathing air through their stomas. All gone. Let's see them laugh when they cannot breathe.
Are you laughing now? | When your power is "Summon knives from everywhere to stab yourself", you kind of tend to get ridiculed. Still, even as a kid I saw what potential my power had...if I didn't care about anyone else. See, there were no restrictions to what "Summon knives from everywhere to stab yourself"entailed. So one day, when it felt like the whole world was kicking me, my powers went off. Gigantic knives flew from everywhere, eviscerating everyone around me. Their corpses formed a shield that prevented the knives from harming me. Not even those with purported "Unbreakable skin" stood a chance, the mass of the gigantic blades simply crushing them. I first felt sick and twisted, panic grabbing hold of my heart as I realized what I had done, but that quickly subsided. Instead, a gleeful joy filled me, almost against my will, as I recognized the potential my power had. Throwing the bodies off of me, I began my plans...
If you were to talk to any of the world's governments right now, and even mention my name, you'd get a fearful response. They knew my status as a weapon of mass destruction; piss me off, and they risked me slicing the entire world to pieces. I'd made it perfectly clear I put little value on my life, and now everyone lived in a state of constant tension. I had placed a guillotine blade above the world's neck, and when you're anticipating the execution, who can really laugh? | 2015-04-12T18:48:32 | 2015-04-12T17:46:50 | 40 | 19 |
[WP] You’ve just finished assembling a doomsday device. You’re not sure if a button is supposed to be labeled ‘ON’ or ‘NO.’ | I turned my head ever-so-slightly one way, trying to get a read on the button. It was a circle button, not a square one like it should have been. It wasn't parallel to the ground, but skewed the tiniest amount in one direction that made me think that maybe the button had gotten spun upside down during installation. It looked like it was "ON." But... maybe it was "NO?"
"Hrrm," I grunted, moving to push it, but hovering a millimeter above the button. What was the worst that could happen?
"Have we started yet?" my coconspirator Kye walked by in the lab, a pile of papers in hand to burn before they could possible be tracked back to us.
"No, not yet," I mumbled. "Hold on, are any of those the original schematics?"
"Ummm," Kye sifted through papers quickly, "Sure, why?"
I snatched the paper out of his hand. I poured over it, before realizing it was an early blueprint without any words on it. All I could see was that the circular button was intended to be installed there. I turned the blueprint upside down like that would help me for some reason.
"Everything okay?" Kye pried.
"The button in the center console. What does it do?" I asked.
"What, you didn't label it?" Kye chuckled, placing the papers to one side and walking to the machine. He turned around confused. "It says 'ON!'"
"I know what it says! But what if it was supposed to say 'NO?'" I snapped.
"NO?"
"NO," I nodded.
He squinted in confusion.
"No 'NO' or yeah 'NO?'" he clarified.
"Yeah, 'NO.'"
"Why would there ever be a button labeled 'NO?' What would you do with it?" he asked.
"You know. NO! It's a catch-all negation," I explained.
He stared at me as though suddenly realizing he was not impressed by my intelligence.
"Are you defining the word or what the button does?" he asked.
"What the button could do. If it says NO."
"So, it's like... what a shield? For when some do-gooder tries to stop the machine from running?" he asked.
"It could be that. But also could be something that emits sound. Or maybe a self destruct," I shrugged.
He scoffed, evidently believing I'd told a joke, followed by a growing dread.
"Are you serious? You don't even know what it does *if* it's labelled NO? What, are you going to take it apart now or something?" he asked, exasperated.
"No, no, that would take much too long. I think I'll just press it."
"But what if it's the 'NO' that means self destruct!?" Kye yelled.
"It... probably isn't," I said, shrugging and moving to the machine. Kye ran behind a desk by the time I pressed the button. The room's temperature was sucked away almost immediately, leaving us very little heat in seconds.
"Which NO was it?" Kye called from behind his shelter, shivering.
"Ummm... I think it just turned it on!" I called back.
"But... isn't the device supposed to make everything in the room reach absolute zero in moments?" Kye asked.
"Hm," I grunted, watching my breath float by. My mind was slow, looking at the already slightly blue complexion of my skin. "Want to help me find the NO switch before we..."
Kye had already passed out on the other end.
"Hm," I grunted again, moving to turn off the machine as fast as I could. But I hesitated a moment too long over the button. It was labelled "FOF." Was that a misspelling of 'OFF' or was it for something else?
In the time it had taken for me to make up my mind, I had been frozen in place, a millimeter above the button.
__________________________
For more stories, check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer! | It wasn't a big button. In comparison to the rest of the machine, it was practically minuscule. But the problem is, the font for the buttons, was sans serif. So this particular round button was a conundrum. It was a fifty-fifty chance. ON, or NO. Not really the kind of chance you want to take on a doomsday device.
Black on white letters. Nothing about its placement tells me what direction it's supposed to be written in. It's on the top of the device, and I have to climb a ladder to even see it. I've poured over the blueprints for hours, racked my brain, and even tried to ask a friend. No ideas.
Logically, it's probably an ON button. After all, what would a button labelled 'NO' even do? But then again, maybe it stops a process or makes sure that the person pressing it is exempt from the destruction. So, if it was a 'NO' it would be a good thing, and I should press it. However, if it's an 'ON' and I press it, the device will start. And I still have a few other things I want to do before I completely destroy the world.
I've almost decided that it must be a 'NO'. So that would be a good thing for me to push. Unless the 'NO' is a short form for 'Nothing Outlasts.' Which means I would also perish along with the machine, along with everyone. So either way, I would be having death for dinner. However, maybe 'ON' is short for something too. It could be short for 'Overall Nix', or 'Overachieving Nihilism', or 'Orange Narwhal.' That last one might be stretching a bit. Though if this machine could make an orange narwhal, I think I might rethink doomsday a little. Maybe put it off for longer.
I can't take it. I have to know what this button does. I've said my farewells and warned the people I care about. Here we go. I'm pressing it. Close your eyes.
Huh. I'm still here. And the world still seems to be functioning. So, what did the button do? Wait, what the heck is that? Well, it's no Orange Narwhal, but that button was definitely an acronym. So, with my Nice Owlet firmly installed in a comfortable home I've learned my lesson.
That is absolutely the *last* time I buy doomsday device blueprints at a discount. | 2022-08-04T18:51:45 | 2022-08-04T18:03:20 | 523 | 90 |
[WP] You were asked out by your crush to come and hang out with her after school. On your date, she drained your blood and buried you in the woods thinking that you were another easy victim. And now, the next morning, she looks horrified when you walk into class. | "Was that a bicycle pump?"
I wondered if I had looked as baffled last night when I saw it as Anya looked now at me asking. I suppose it didn't really matter, but I was still curious. I had wanted to ask at the time, but the brick in my mouth had prevented that.
"What?"
"I've never had someone use a bicycle pump to try to drain my blood before. I'm amazed it worked at all."
"How-wha-"she swallowed hard, trying to collect herself but failing. "Wh-Why aren't you dead?"
A stutter, how cute. I should be more annoyed, but her terror just emphasized her big doe eyes and pouty lips. If I didn't know it wasn't possible, I swear my heart would have skipped a beat.
"The book said-"
"Book?" I replied. "What book?"
She recoiled like a rabbit as I stepped toward her. Her eyes darted to the door as the bell rang, summoning students and teachers to their classes; where they wouldn't bother us.
"Grandma's journal."
"Didn't your mother teach you the family business?"
"Mom doesn't believe."
That made sense. She was self taught, no wonder she mucked it up. She pulled back further, knocking over a mop handle that I caught before it could hit her. "But you do?"
"Be- because of you. You never go to morning classes unless it's winter, then on sunny days you just don't show up at all. You never eat anything when you hang out with us, you don't ever drink but you have "wine stains" on your shirt.Ty practically breathes parkour and you don't even go to the gym but you always beat him. I- When you get excited your eyes get these red flecks in them. I thought was crazy at first, that Grandma's stories were nuts but then I saw- are you blushing?!?"
I touched cheeks lightly, averting my eyes. Here I had thought I was always the one admiring her. I didn't think she'd ever notice me, yet she'd been watching so closely. Maybe she hadn't completely faked her smiles as we talked. Maybe one or two laughs at the bar had been genuine. Her quiet as we walked through the woods wasn't sadness at our date night closing, but maybe it wasn't just fear of what she was about to do. Could it have been hesitation?
She tried to take advantage of my distraction and rush past me. I caught her wrist to stop her. She tripped and fell into my arms. Not my intention, but pleasant all the same, even as she struggled.
Her bravado died at my smile. Poor rabbit. She shook as she asked again, barely whispering.
"Why aren't you dead?"
"First," I smoothed a loose lock behind her ear, "a bicycle pump is creative, but very ineffective way to drain blood. You didn't get all the blood. Slashing the veins works much better. It was a good idea to wear silver, and very smart to weaken me first. The brick was also a good touch, most people forget that and I've bitten so many wrist because of that, people forget weak isn't powerless. Lastly, with how weak I was, it would have taken me longer to recover enough to dig myself out, but you didn't dig the hole deep enough. Very rookie mistake, especially since you predug it and led me there. It needs to be at least 3 ft. So a coyote dug me up, which made for a quick pick me up. Kinda like a power bar."
My attempt to lighten the mood just made her even paler. With some regret, I loosened my grip but kept my hands lightly on her arms in case she started to faint. She let me lead her to a folding chair in the corner of the storage room and sat. I picked up her dropped bag, pulling out the blue water water bottle she always carried.
She stared down at it in my outstretched hand.
"Are you going to kill me now?"
"No."
"Then why are you telling me how to kill you next time?"
I smiled and kneeled down to her eye level. "I won't be so careless for there to be a 'next time', though I'm hoping someday you won't want to kill me anyway. I'm sure you know I've liked you a long time. I think just maybe, you liked me too. I understand it's a lot to take in, so I'm willing to forgive last night. I thought we were having a great time until that last bit. Until you saw me this morning, you looked like you might be regretting it. Maybe I can hope."
She didn't respond. It wasn't a no.
"I'd like you to consider going out for real sometime. In the meantime, now that you know about us, others will know about you."
I took my chance and kissed a lock of her hair, knowing it probably wouldn't happen again. Not for a long while at least.
"I can't have anyone laying their hands on my girl."
She stared at me. I could lose myself in those eyes. My gaze floated to her lips. Too much too soon. Instead, I started to shift into mist to drift under the door.
"Stay safe, my would-be Vampire Slayer." | Maeve wore a look of utter shock when I walked into the door for our Anthropology class the next morning. Her mouth wide open and fear shimmering in her eyes. Yet, even in this she was a beautiful as before with her smooth pearl skin and flowing black hair.
"Now, that was a wild night." I said with a laugh. "I know they say we have the time of our lives... but I think you pushed it to the max."
There was a twitch in her hand and a low growl filled his ears. She kept calm in the public view for the most part. Anyone close enough to see the two would notice the tension. She quickly took his hand and led them into a broom closet.
"Wow, one date and we are meeting in closets for make out sessions. What a treat." He says with a laugh
"S-shut up." Maeve said with a growl. "How did you survive? I sucked you dry last night."
"Not how I remember it. Seems to me you tried to kill me." He retorted with a smirk.
Her growl grew larger, showing off her sharp fangs protruding past her lips. Claws were slowly growing from her fingernails. The dark couldn't hide the glowing eyes of this beauty.
"Not more jokes Blague. Answer the dam question! If you're one of those damn hunters I'll..."
"Oh, jeez lighten up. If I was, I wouldn't have let you live right?" Retorted Blague. "How much do you know about vampiric culture? I'm guessing very little due to not noticing my little trick. A shame given your major."
He was toying with her. Enjoying the turn around this cause. For the past few months, he felt like a nobody to her; led along by her charms to do what she asked until she said yes. Now, he was in the position of power.
"Your cockiness is getting on my nerves. Get to the point or I'll tear something off." She said while scowling at him.
Blague took a deep breath out before explaining himself, "Fine fine. Each culture from the beginning of time possesses some sort of vampiric being within it. Most broaden the term to simply vampires, but in truth there are many beings who don't follow this trope. Take me for example. My kind is called a Talamaur... I use a ghost double to feed on others and when someone threatens to harm me..."
Blague snapped his fingers. His image and form were replaced by a tall human male in a trench coat. On his neck were two holes, marks from the attack last night.
"I can switch between the people's bodies I've taken a bite out of. With them, I can drain the vitality of others without using my own hands. Consequently, they make great conversationalists." He laughed after the last part returning back in front of her.
He was sure this was going to be the end. They'd fight, his cover was blown, and he'd need to find a new home all over again. Erasing minds in the process just to get the hunters off his back. But to his surprise, a cute smile curled on Maeve's lips.
"Congratulations Blague. You've just got more interesting. Tonight, we'll go on a real date." She said, kissing him on the cheek before pulling his hand along. "But be warned. It won't be as easy as last night. You'll need to really charm me this time."
Bewilderment, fear, and excitement hit him like a freight train all at once. What in the world went through Maeve's mind? How did she find anything he said flattering? And most importantly... Why was he looking forward to tonight? | 2022-12-29T21:26:34 | 2022-12-29T20:31:16 | 36 | 20 |
[WP] Turns out cultures and civilisations aren’t meant to disappear or evolve so quickly. And species aren’t meant to develop technology so quickly too. So, after their last visit 5000 years ago, the aliens are wondering where the FUCK are the ancient Mesopotamians.
Wow, didn’t expect this to blow up that much. My thanks to everyone who answered ! | They didn't seem to speak a language any of the crew recognised. They'd been sent out to meet the aliens just above the Persian gulf, were they'd landed, creating a few high tension situations on the political scale, each major country in the region blaming the other. The world had been mere minutes away from total nuclear annihilation, until everyone at once had said it wasn't theirs.
So these six men were sent out. A representative from each country that had stakes in the gulf. An Iranian, a Saudi, a Koeweiti, an American, a Russian and an Iraqi. Yet none could understand what the aliens were saying, but they seemed a bit freaked out.
''Maybe we should try miming?" the American said, ''Like sharades.''
''Of course the American makes a game of it.'' the Russian replied, scoffing at the idea.
''Well I don't hear any suggestions coming from you, smartass.'' the American replied, a little irritated. He turned to the others, ''Any of you guys got any clue what they're saying? Recognize any words? It sounds a bit Arabian-ish to me.''
''No, but I can almost hear an echo of some of the older dialects of Persian in what they're saying.'' the Koeweiti said, both the Iranian and Iraqi in agreement. Maybe they were in contact thousands of years ago in this region. Back when it was like Mesopotamia or Egypt here.''
When the words 'mesopotamia' and 'egypt' reached the Alien's ears, they perked up and nodded furiously, chatting even faster and more agitatedly.
''Okay so they recognised that, try something else maybe?'' the Saudi suggested
''Like what?'' the Koeweiti man asked, seemingly unsure about wanting to communicate with the Aliens.
''I don't know, like some name of an old city?''
''Like Ur?''
''UR!" the aliens exclaimed, ''UR!"
They seemed overjoyed, having recognized the name of the ancient city.
''Yeah, Ur, is kaput. Gone. Destroyed. Abandoned, ruined, forgotten, for like 2000 years or so.'' the American did not seem very impressed. ''How long ago did these guys come here, if they knew of Ur?''
Each time the word fell, the aliens tried to desperately understand what they were saying about the city they had once helped build.
''Yeah I think we're gonna need like a translator or something? Maybe someone who studies ancient stuff like this.'' the Russian spoke into the microphone on his wrist, ''These Aliens only know of Ur, the ancient city.''
''Wait, do you think they'd know if Ea-Nassir? Maybe he sold them such shitty copper their gear went all out of whack for like 5000 years.'' the Iraqi laughed, but his smile dropped when he saw that the aliens had recognized the name of the notorious scam artist.
One alien had brought a device along with him and a small rod of metal. He spoke sole words into it, and the device translated:
''Ea-Nassir, shitty copper, no refund either. Gonna leave a bad review on intergalactical Yelp.'' | "Gulpemba, I would like to report an anomaly."
Odd, an anomaly hasn't been reported in the Milky Way since Meteor Tartarus crashed into Earth, or when we learned that Earth was an eclipse planet and all we thought all of the rovers crashed at the same time. What could it be this time? Silicon-based life? Or... What if we were found? What if they found one of the rovers? No that can't be it...
"What is the anomaly MaJinn?" you ask, this could be dangerous.
"We have found a small spacecraft flying by our ship by about 136 metrarobreems. It has a small gold disc on it. It has symbols that appear to be a map, some wavelengths, and an undistinguishable language."
"Where did it appear to come from?" You ask. Perhaps it was sent from the Razapans who are currently in the Cerbures System, it's neighboring close enough to the Solar System to pass by us. Maybe it's a distress signal from them.
"The trajectory implies it came from Earth." MaJinn replies, seeming as concerned as you.
"How could they have done that? They only created laws a couple thousand years ago, I remember being to extinguish the flames that were caused by the Mesopotamians myself!" You scream in more curiosity than concern now.
"I have been wondering that myself. From the research Zapheneeh has been doing from our planet with DNA samples, he believes that Sapians have crucially low lifespans that allowed them to advance at a rate of more than 7 times than we did." | 2022-09-23T13:38:14 | 2022-09-23T12:05:09 | 121 | 60 |
[WP] Humanity has always thought itself very smart for figuring out how to ride a giant explosion into space. Turns out there's a much easier way and the rest of the galaxy thinks we're insane. | Humans had always been persistent, from the time they had been spotted on their homeworld, struggling with wars, strife and poverty. They, against all odds had prevailed time and time again. Yet there always seemed to be a more peaceful solution, an easier one.
Humanity had a talent for making things more difficult than they actually were.
Why go to war when you could resolve tensions peacefully? Why argue over resources that would soon disappear instead of preparing for that eventuality? Why over-indulge in the useless things instead of helping others? Most human conflict seemed quite unbelievable to them.
They were considered a curiosity, a subject of jokes they weren’t aware of. They were known throughout the galaxy for their odd quirk.
And when they finally invented space travel, uniting after countless centuries of pointless conflict.
Their ascension into space would be remembered for centuries.
The humans lifted off their homeworld in giant structures of all things, giant structures powered by explosions.
Explosions.
Explosions..
Explosions...
Explosions?
Their impractical vessels were powered by explosions. It was the most unstable manner of the space flight they had witnessed.
They didn’t seemed to rely on gravity at all. In fact their vessels fought against gravity. The very source that powered most of the Intergalactic Union’s vessels.
The humans had certainly lived up to their reputation.
It was absolutely insane, they had tamed most of the fundamental forces of the known universe and they had chosen to fight against the most useful one. The single crucial force that would allow them to have unlimited travel throughout the universe. To build anything.
Instead they had chosen to use explosions. **Explosions** to power something that clearly was very fragile, that required the upmost delicacy.
The humans were insane, there was no other word for it.
___
A few decades later, the first human vessel would come in contact with an unidentified alien ship. When they activated the comms system and established contact, the beings had started to react.
The more humanoid ones started to cough, others not so much. Some seemingly propulsing liquid out of various sensory organs.
Even a few decades later, humans would never understand why the first aliens they had met reacted so violently.
They associated the reaction with the word “Hello” since the aliens seemed to always react that way in the presence of humans. The reaction was even more amplified when they were present with more than one member of their species.
*It was like they all shared some sort of inside joke.* | *Patent 52894-14A*
Name: *Trebuchet Mark II*
Date Filed: *15th of October, 1482 (Earth Time)*
Description: *A trebuchet capable of firing a 9500 kg projectile over 300 000 meters. The projectile is accelerated in a circular motion by a lever attached to a weight. The weight is accelerated by an electromagnetic field under the catalyzing effect of a Hopper-Johnson gravity deflection prism, giving the projectile a speed of approximately 30 000 m/s at the moment of release(Note: This speed may vary with planet composition and meteorological conditions).*
Name of patent holder: *Fargo Hopper*
Disclaimer: *Not recommended for human use due to the powerful accelerations involved(Those idiots wouldn’t even understand how to use it without breaking it)!* | 2019-01-21T06:09:26 | 2019-01-21T05:47:56 | 84 | 27 |
[WP] There's a girl who knocks on your door at exactly 9pm on every full moon, expecting sweets. It's been more than ten years and she's never aged a day. | The gentle tapping echoed through the house. It had freaked me out when I first moved here, but by now I was used to it. Making sure the front and back doors were locked, I headed to the living room. When I bought the house I had tried to question the realtor about the tiny door in the wall. They looked at me like I grew a second head. Maybe they couldn't see it. It was small-child-sized and when I tried to open it, tightly locked from the other side. Only my bedroom was on the other side, and there was no door there. Just in the living room.
Grabbing the bowl I kept on the side table, I settled onto the floor, getting comfortable. There was only one time I could open the door. At 9:00 PM every full moon. When the little girl knocked. Carefully I turned the handle, swinging it open. And there she was. Always exactly the same, even though it was ten years to the day since she'd first come calling. Holding out the bowl, I smiled.
"Here you go. We've got a good selection this time. It's the day after Valentine's." Excitedly, she dipped her hand in, pulling out a coconut-filled chocolate. It vanished into her mouth with speed, as I kept talking.
"You know, sometimes I feel like the winters are getting colder and colder. It goes right through me." Staring at me solemnly, she nodded, reaching into the bowl for another chocolate. She hadn't spoken once in the ten years, except in the very beginning to ask for candy.
"These bones of mine ache something terrible. I think I'll get a cushion next time and put it on the floor. It would be quite nice I think." Again she reached into the bowl, pulling out the same coconut chocolate. Smiling, she pushed it towards me, barely extending her hand over the tiny threshold.
"Oh, no dear, I really shouldn't." Her face shifted, pulling down into an angry scowl. Only once before had I seen that face and I knew it did not bode well for my house. Last time the pipes had frozen for weeks, and no matter what I did, they didn't unfreeze until the next full moon.
"Oh, well, okay. Thank you very much for sharing." I popped the chocolate into my mouth, talking around it. I didn't get much company these days, much less such good listening.
"It's really quite a challenge you know. Sometimes I think this house is too much for me, but then I don't really want to go into an old folks' home. I think I would miss you too much." The little girl's face was quite a picture of shock and delight. I smiled, reaching into the bowl and pulling out a chocolate.
"I think you should try this one. It used to be my favourite when I was... well... younger than I am now." Taking it, it vanished into her mouth, as once again her face turned solemn. The clock on the wall chimed the fifteen-minute mark, and I knew our visit was over.
"Well, goodbye dear. Until next time then." She nodded, waving and stepped back as I closed the door. Standing, I returned the bowl to the side table, shaking my head. Some folks might have been concerned or afraid. Me, I just liked the company. No matter what she was, whether spirit, fairy, ghost or something else entirely, she was harmless. And after her visits, I always felt better. The aches were less, the loneliness had fled and I had a renewed sense of purpose. It was nice to be needed. Even if it was by a strange ageless being that I could only see for fifteen minutes every full moon. | Their ritual always begins without much ado.
A knock at the door. Once, twice, rarely thrice. Nolan has grown to anticipate her the way one expects a bite when placed between a waiting set of jaws.
She hasn't changed much over the years—which is, of course, a nice way of saying that she hasn't changed at all. But it gives Nolan some sense of sanity to try and find little things about her that might have changed, so he looks anyway. A band-aid on her forearm. A new piercing in her ear. The few changes she makes hardly matter at all though, because if it weren't for the hickory-brown skin and bone-white hair pulled back into buns, she would look like she just stepped out of a strip mall from 1986. Which doesn't make much sense, given the fact that Nolan first met her in 2002, but trying to make sense of Mona has resulted in little more than headaches.
"Hello, Nolan."
"Hello, Mona."
"Do you have any sweets?"
"There's a cake waiting on the table."
They spend the first couple of minutes eating in silence. Mona doesn't take off her jacket (worn denim with pins as far back as 1901, the last time Nolan checked) or slip off her boots (black? Brown? They're so worn that Nolan's never been able to tell), but she does glance up at Nolan over the rim of her wire-framed glasses.
"You look tired."
"I'm always tired."
"You should sleep more."
A roll of the eyes. "I can sleep when I'm dead."
Mona pokes at her cake. It's a store-bought one from down the street, $5.99 at the local grocery store, but so far she's never seemed to mind. Instead, Mona hums and inspects a piece of deep brown cake. "'It takes a lifetime to die, and no time at all.'"
Nolan snorts. "Who was it that said that? Bukowski?"
"Mhm."
"I bet you met him, didn't you?"
Mona only smiles.
She's gone in the morning and for the next thirty days. No goodbye, no explanation. There is only the scent of pine needles lingering in the kitchen and a waning full moon that seems more human than her. | 2022-06-25T13:20:24 | 2022-06-25T13:09:26 | 1,242 | 291 |
[WP] We learn aliens exist, but they have access to so many planets that the only thing of value on Earth is human culture. Aliens hid themselves so they could redistribute our culture without tainting it. Now humanity explores a galaxy that has been familiar with humans for centuries. | *There will be silence in the court! Thank you. Kay-Ell, you have the talking frond.*
Kyle unlocked his iPad-10k, took a deep breath, and stood up from his seat, brushing the luminous levitating frond away from his mouth as he did so. “Thank you, Connoisseur. We are here today to pursue a claim of Intergalactic piracy. In doing so, we aim to set a precedent against races alien to my own from taking and distributing works of human culture without the permission of the human’s themselves."
*Yes, I see, and which particular work are we discussing today, Kay-Ell?*
“The unit of entertainment that, for the last five thousand years has been distributed across the galaxy on an endless loop. It is called Friends, Connoisseur.”
At this, the amphitheatre erupted in riotous noise. Not actual noise of course, if Kyle concentrated on his ears, he could tell that not one of the aliens was actually making a single sound. But all their words arrived in his head nonetheless, as the aliens of all races were first and foremost, telepaths. Second to that, they were rather rude.
It had taken Kyle a bit of getting used to, Intergalactic court was quite different to that on Earth. For one thing, the opposing legal team was allowed to heckle.
*Could he be any more of a Ross*? The opposing counsel glorped cruelly. Riotous glorping echoed through Kyle’s brain, which he assumed was the amphitheatre erupting in laughter.
“Connoisseur, Earth had received no contact from other life, and more than that, we gave no permission for our culture to be used and distributed in such a way without our consent. I am arguing that it is only fair that…”
The opposing counsel interrupted, *we were on a break!*
God, Kyle thought, they weren’t even original. Was this all their humour was? Just repeating human cultural references, like the great meme-wars of the early third millennium?
“It is only fair,” Kyle continued, “that we receive compensation for the unlawful use of our intellectual property! And furthermore…”
*What I never understood about Friends,* oozed the Connoisseur, *was why Ross, the largest friend, did not simply eat the other five?*
The amphitheatre erupted in telepathic babbling once again, as some of the aliens pondered the musing, while others glorped at its originality and creativity.
Kyle narrowed his eyes, grasped the talking frond firmly and said, “Connoisseur, there is another case of intellectual property theft I would like to bring forth to the Intergalactic Court.”
_______________________________________________________________________________________
Thanks for reading, I haven't done many of these so constructive criticism is always welcome
| Fuck Humans!
Oh my God!
This was supposed to be an *easy* class. All you had to do was explain *why* their culture is the way it is, where this and that originated from, but fuck, this doesn't make a lick of sense.
Three!?
Three. In one picture? You don't even understand *one*. You showed it to your dad and he thought the assignment itself had something to do with Sphinxes because this riddle is *bullshit*. Sphinxes telling riddles was popularized by the story of Oedipus. That would have been easy, but alas your teacher did not dress up like a cat with wings, so evidently you don't know jack shit. You've read hundreds of pieces of human literature. You've grown up on human culture, but apparently it's not enough. How do humans keep up with this hieroglyphic shit? They go to Sisyphean lengths to communicate in more and more exclusionary ways, *for entertainment*?
You used to think humans were cool, but [this](https://i.imgur.com/WSa3ILZ.jpg) is just stupid. | 2018-12-21T20:54:21 | 2018-12-21T19:54:33 | 240 | 142 |
[WP] You start to suspect your SO/spouse has the ability to stop time | The day we met smelled of clementines and sage; he was dapper and young in his freshly pressed suit. I was clean scrubbed and rosy, my cheeks aflame from the bristles of the brush and the strength of the lye.
We talked and drank tea in a fashionable café and I was churned under by the whirlpools of his cool blue eyes and grew intoxicated with the primness of his small mouth under his bushy, fox-red mustache.
Before the week was out, we were married and he whisked me away to his home on the hill, where he promised me quaintly that it would always be summer and there would always be sage and clementines.
I laughed then at the absurdity of his promise.
The days wound by, like ribbon on a typewriter, the laughter and conversations tapping through the days and making indelible marks on the pages of our minds. As he promised there were always clementines and sage and I often grew lost in his rambling mansion, with its multitudes of rooms full of curiosities from his travels.
He never worked, as far as I knew; all we ever did was spend our days steeped in pleasurable activities, the hum of bumblebees in the air and clotted cream on our tongues.
We made love every day and I wondered what I had done to deserve such a man and such a perfect life.
As time wore on, he began to grow greyer and wearier, much faster than I ever expected.
It seemed barely five years since we ran wildly off to his wooden castle in the hills, to revel in the wonder of each other and live in our two favourite scents.
But we still made love every day, even though he seemed smaller and more fragile. Less dynamic in body but just as spry in mind. Worried that I was also fading so fast, I observed myself in one of the many mirrors in the house - but I looked almost as young and plump as the day we first met; my cheeks as red and fresh as orchard apples and my skin clean and supple, not a wrinkle nor wisp of white hair.
When his mustache turned white I asked him what was wrong, but he simply kissed me and made love to me under the dome of his observatory tower, surrounded by brass and silicon, the gibbous moon lighting our twining bodies.
When he had finished, I asked him again, but he stroked my forehead until I was lulled into sleep and when I awoke I had forgotten my question.
Fearing he had some kind of disease that could not be cured, I pored through the books in the libraries, searching for an answer to this puzzle.
But as though he knew I searched for a clue, he distracted me with his wit and his wonders, and I fell again under his spell and forgot what it was I was searching for.
It is cold now, for the first time in twenty two years and I am now thirty nine.
Winter has finally come to the house of eternal summer, perched on the hill.
I found his tiny, frail body in the conservatory, hunched over his private diary. He was like a little grey bird, his feathers so weathered and dull, but still prim and clean and dapper.
Prying his journal from the spindly, arthritic fingers which had once made me shiver and twitch with pleasure, I kissed his pale forehead and pulled his favourite blanket about his stiff, unliving frame.
I looked down at the last entry in the book and read:
*"I have kept her here now, in eternal summer for twenty two summers and sixty six of my own years. She does not know that I halt the flow of time just for her; that while she has her eternal summers of sage and clementines, the world whirls onward, I age and must soon die.
I do this because I love her more than life, more than time. I would spare her the winter and the winds of time for eternity if I could, for she is the most precious thing in the universe."*
As the first flakes of snow in two decades began to scatter the glass roof of the conservatory, I held his brittle head to my belly and I wept. | I plopped down in my chair after a hard day of work. It looked like Tim hadn’t cleaned the living room at all. “Honey, did you clean the living room?”
“Sure did, cutie,” he said.
I looked at the carpet. It looked dirty. “Really?”
“Yep.”
The carpet looked vacuumed. I figured I just hadn’t noticed it. “Okay. Guess I just didn’t notice.”
Tim came into the room and sat down on the arm of my chair. He kissed the top of my head. “How was your day?”
I snorted. “Terrible. Mr. Kolouch upped my deadline for the Green Project.” I loosened my tie. “I could really use a beer.”
“Here you go, babe.” Tim handed me a beer. I swear he hadn’t brought one in with him.
“How was your day?”
Tim snickered. “Fine. Nothing special.”
I noticed a box sitting on the counter. I had asked Tim to mail it this morning. “Why didn’t you send out my mom’s package this morning?”
“I did.”
I looked back over at the counter. The box wasn’t there anymore. “What’s going on, Tim? I just saw the box sitting there.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure I sent it out this morning.”
“I’m not that tired or that stupid, Tim. I know that package was sitting on the counter. What the hell’s going on?” I felt myself starting to lose my patience.
Tim laughed. “No. No.” He shook his head. “Nope. Nothing is going on.”
“Really? I suppose you’re stopping time to do things you’ve forgotten about when I remind you. Is that it?” I took a large chug of beer.
A look of surprise passed over Tim’s face briefly. “Nope. Nothing like that.” He moved around behind me and began to rub my shoulders. “I think you’re just stressed out.”
Tim’s shoulder massages were the best. I felt my worries slipping away. I patted his hand. “I have been pretty busy at work. Maybe I am stressed.” I turned to look back at him.
Tim stood behind me naked and winked as he continued to rub my shoulders. “Thought we could have some sexy times.”
“Seriously, Tim? Seriously?” How had he gotten his clothes off so fast? I sighed and slumped in the chair. “No, Tim. Just, no. Not now.”
_______
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this check out my subreddit /r/Puns_are_Lazy. | 2015-02-04T17:18:24 | 2015-02-04T17:06:37 | 87 | 10 |
[WP] Write a story about something you don't understand. Do NO research. Make everything up as you go.
**Possible subjects:**
*Fly-Fishing
*Open-Heart Surgery
*Supply-Management in the Canadian Dairy Industry
*Making Hollywood Movies
*Guidance Counselling for High School Students
*Storm Chasing
*Electrical Repair in High-Rise Buildings
*The Large Hadron Collider
*Love
EDIT: Oh God, what have I done? | *A Single Play in American Football as Interpreted by a Foreigner who has Never Seen a Game*
"Hut two, twenny-two, hut!" The first quarterback shouted, eyes gleaming with passion as he stared around at his team. They were all lined up in such a way as to form the basic shape of a ziggurat from above, thus reflecting the Native American roots of American Football. Or possibly a pyramid, as in the scheme used by the first owners of NFL teams to raise capital, it was hard to tell.
All the other quarterbacks roared and started to run, one of them hiding the ball so the other team's quarterbacks couldn't take it. The kickers of both teams remained on the sidelines, attempting to chat up members of the crowd while they waited for their turn.
The quarterbacks all collided, red team against other, statistically less likely to be victorious, team.
As predicted, the red quarterback with the ball managed to get his shoulder under the other one, lifting with his legs and spin flipping the not-red player off to land on his head on the grass. The eagerly watching cameras zoomed in, ready to slow-mo and replay and reverse and remix and use in ad campaigns with shouty voice overs. The fans not wearing red in the crowd booed and threw their beer cups - which were still red despite that clashing with their outfits because all beer cups in America are.
The red quarterback with the ball sprinted for the end of the pitch, spare players from the other team ritually throwing themselves to the ground in humiliation as he passed, indicating their unworthiness.
Finally he reached the white line, and had only to complete his scoring by nailing a predetermined dance routine. First, he placed down the ball, then did a series of jazz hands, blowing on them intermittently to indicate that they were "too hot".
At this point, the rest of the red quarterbacks joined him, and launched into an innovative and bold line dance/cancan combo. While the first quarterback was naturally the lead, the support from his teammates made the difference, and the judges ruled that their dance was sufficient to earn points.
In celebration, the red kicker paused his attempts to get the numbers of the entirety of Row J, and shot up the ball to indicate that red team had scored. It flew up and landed on the other side of the advertising sculpture for hemarrhoid cream (H - for those moments of fiery agony) and the red fans went wild, particularly when they saw images of them were being displayed on the security blimp that floated above the stadium. | The pillow was made in 1837 when King Cristopher of France was tired of laying down on bricks. He found the greatest scientist in all of Paris and had the inventor create something to ease his sleeping at night. After hours of thinking the inventor grabbed a donkey and put its hair into a sack of flour. The inventor took this sack to the king and had him put his head on it.
When King Cristopher put his head on the pillow he got flour and donkey hair all over his bed and his wife. He ordered the inventor to be hanged the next day.
The next morning the inventor was hanged. The King was still sad about his sleeping woes. As he made his way back into the castle he tripped on some stairs and fell down onto a pigeon. The Queen rushed over to him fearing the worst only to find the King giggling like a mad man. He plucked the feathers from the pigeon that night and laid on top of them. He had invented the pillow! | 2016-02-02T00:31:42 | 2016-02-01T22:58:30 | 147 | 10 |
[WP] Bad news. You’re stuck in a strange and magical world far far from home. Worse news: You aren’t even the chosen one in the prophecy who gets cool powers and a destiny quest. They won’t show up for a few more years. You got here purely by mistake. You have no powers. You’re alone. You must live. | Head fogged up from sleep, Roger made a feeble attempt to move his arm. It moved a little, and he sighed, giving up on getting up. It was a Saturday anyways, he could spend a bit more time lazing.
Like always, the city was noisy, and his apartment sitting high on the 43rd floor was apparently still easily reached by the yelling people. Ugh. Was it just him, or was the goddamn noise getting louder-?
‘Wake up!’
Roger jolted up, his poor back immediately screaming at him for that careless move. He blinked twice before the world came into focus.
He wasn’t in his apartment.
‘Uh…’
‘’S closing time! Get out of ‘ere!’
He shook his head, trying to remember what happened. The woman who was yelling at him gave another piercing look that made Roger flinch.
‘Well? Get out!’
Roger scrambled to his feet, not questioning the woman. He’s never one to question authority, and asking the fierce woman about where he was sounded terrifying. Ah! Never mind that, he’ll figure out where he is later.
Roger slammed the wooden door open and dove into a alley, standing near the exit in case he gets mugged or something. He really just didn’t want the people to stare.
Despite it being late, the streets were still crowded, stores and people decorated like they were in some sort of aesthetic medieval fantasy. Glowing lanterns swinging, people dressed in colourful cloaks, money with holes in the middle stringed up into something like accessories.
Huh.
Roger wiped his palm, licking his lips nervously.
That was… unsettling. Roger forced himself to swallow, and stopped himself from fantasising about stupid things. C’mon, he’s gotta be rational ‘bout this.
Maybe he could call his bro. Yeah, he’d probably help him figure out where the fuck this was.
Patting his clothes, Roger felt himself freeze. He finally looked down.
Oh.
He had an old, faded brown cloak wrapped around him, his shirt (thankfully long-sleeved) was old and held together by stitches, and maybe used to be white. His pants and shoes covered him equally well, which Roger was grateful for. Having his skin exposed, even if it was just his arms and legs, was uncomfortable as hell. He checked his hands. They were his, alright.
The next thing he noticed was that he didn’t have a phone, and then not even the money every passerby seemed to brought along.
Oh.
…Shit.
Roger cursed, and shuffled his feet in discomfort. He looked around frantically, surveying each person, trying to get every detail to force his heart to slow down. God, his throat felt like it was being aggressively hammered on from the inside. Guess that’s what ‘heart in your throat’ means.
Uhh…
He should probably be panicking loudly, screaming for help and throw a fuss, but Roger was never one for that. Oh yeah, he was confused and scared, but they cooled down, and his brain started gathering rationality. One good thing was that apathy always takes over whenever things got unbearable.
Roger stepped out of the alley, shuffling his cloak off and spreading it out on the floor. A couple people gave him *the* judgemental look. Roger forced himself to focus. Maybe this was a stupid idea, but this was a weird situation and he tended to do weird things in those.
Kneeling down, Roger knocked his forehead onto the floor. He felt strangely… calm, as he picked up a steady pace. Routine. Routine has always steadied him. Roger could feel his mind slipping, as he focused on the ground, the bending motion he made, the obvious pleading gesture.
First things first, he’s going to get himself some money, even if it meant begging.
•••
Incredibly sorry for the poor grammar and whatever spelling mistake is present- English is not my forte. | When Ray went through that portal in his dream, the last thing he expected was to wake up in a strange, unknown house. **This must just be part of the dream**, he thought to himself. **I wonder where this leads to.**
He got out of bed and wandered around the house, looking at the architecture. The ceiling was low, very low. He was a short guy, so he could barely stand up straight, but he did have to hunch down when going through doorways. The walls were really dirty, with vines creeping along the bricks.
**Man, this is one weird dream.** Ray glanced at the toilet, it was just a bucket in a room. Ray laughed and briefly thought about trying it out before dispelling that bad idea quickly.
"H-honey, is that you? Are y-you home early?" A squeaky voice trembled from the kitchen. Ray scratched his head and went toward the voice. "No, do I know you?"
A screech is heard and the shrill ring of metal is heard from the kitchen as a man no taller than 3 feet ran out holding a tiny knife in his hand.
"How did you get in here! What do you want?" The tiny man shouted out, but not before confusion and fear showed itself. "What-what are you, demon!"
"Hey, calm- Ooh!" Before Ray got the chance to explain himself, the man stabbed him in the legs and Ray's world went black.
---
"He just suddenly appeared in my house, he must have broken in. When I confronted him with my dagger in hand, he raised his hands like he was trying to cast a fireball spell! Thanks to this enchanted dagger, I made it out with my life."
Ray slowly rose to consciousness. He saw the same tiny man who stabbed him talking to someone. He tried to scratch his head, only to realise his hands were bound.
"Hey, untie me! Why am I even here?"
"You are here because you broke into someone's house, and attempted to hurt them with fire magic."
"No? What is going on?"
"You have anyone who will bail you out?"
"No?"
"Then I'll get back to you later." | 2022-04-22T00:31:34 | 2022-04-21T21:39:27 | 110 | 27 |
[WP] In a quest to find the secret of immortality, humans search the universe for more intelligent life. They find immortal aliens, who beg to learn how to die.
[deleted] | Phil raised his gun, aiming for what he'd been told was the strange creature's nervous core. He fired three shots at point blank range. The creature's shell cracked, oozing pale blood, then rapidly repaired itself. The bullets clinked to the desert floor.
"Well, I'll be damned. You fellas really are tough sons-a-bitches, aren't ya? Well, it was sorth a shot."
"That's a terrible pun, Phil," the creature said, it's voice sounding like a purr. "Thanks for trying."
"Yea, well I got a whole lot more to try out, so don't you give up yet. I'll kill you one of these times, just you wait," Phil muttered. "Speakin' of waitin', don't you fellas need to eat sometime? Could we starve ya out?"
"Our bodies produce sustenance from the air we breathe or from the light of stars if air isn't available. If we are denied either of those, we go into a comatose state to recycle the energy we've already harnessed. 864 years is the longest one of us has tried. He is still not dead." The creature rose from the ground and wiped off some dirt from its many legs. It turned it's eyes on Phil's arsenal. "What next?"
"Well, I was thinkin' some C4 might just do. What happens when y'all get blown to little bits?" Phil asked as he rummaged through the back of his truck. He carefully set aside two white, powdery bricks.
"We reassemble. If our parts cannot find the host body, they simply form a new one. It is how we reproduce," replied the creature.
"Well, shit," he said and put the C4 back in its box. "What about fire?"
"We repair too rapidly for it to burn us. Our shell is quite resistant to it as well," the creature said, looking around. "If this is too much to ask of your species, we understand. We can move on."
"Now wait just a galldarn minute. You made a deal with the space people over at NASA, and they contracted ME to destroy you. Now, the way they tell it is that y'all will let us in on this eternal life thing, but only if we kill ya," Phil said, wrestling a large barrel out of the truck. "Now, I might want to meet God someday, but not as soon as the good doctor says I'm gonna. So you just sit back and let me kill you, all right?"
"All right, Phil. What's that?" The creature said, eying the barrel. It had a strange symbol marked on it, and the creature was unfamiliar with it.
"Hop on in. We'll see if a nice acid bath will do the trick," Phil smiled.
The creature obliged, sighing. This was the longest day it'd had in over a century, but at least it wasn't bored to death for once. | Randal Harmon, 927744 Personal Log: 12/12/4017. 13:02
I think we might as well give up. We've tried everything , even cutting the brain out.
Bad idea , we ended up cloning one today.
Granted : The one that grew out of the brain thinks that relearning some of what was in their muscle and nerve memory will be novel for about a decade. Ánd the body that regrew a brain, though perfectly eloquent and skilled looks forward to reading some books if the other doesn't spoil them... but technically it wasn't a success.
We could have known this before if they only remembered to tell us earlier.... If I was more paranoid I would think they might just be trying have us act as a cross between dominatrix and midwife.
According to the older ones it used to be fashionable to take a brain tissue sample and raise what formed out of a couple of brain cells as a child.
They banned it a few centuries after the ban on procreation since it would also amount to burdening a new individual with eternity just because you're bored, but there is a level of nostalgia toward childhood in some of them that the "originals" have been over for a while. | 2017-12-12T08:31:21 | 2017-12-12T04:33:21 | 36 | 15 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search | April 22, 2000 – Is Canada cold?
April 22, 2000 – Is baseball like cricket?
May 1, 2000 – Ontario sports leagues
May 1, 2000 – Recreational baseball tryout
August 12, 2000 – Academic sessions Ontario
January 13, 2001 – Google maps: Alternate routes home
February 14, 2001 – Fun single person activities
May 1, 2001 – Competitive baseball tryouts
June 30, 2001 – The psychology of sports
August 19, 2001 – Good books on making friends
September 11, 2001 – New York plane crash
September 13, 2001 – Practicing Islam without anyone knowing
September 16, 2001 – Insurance claims on stolen/vandalized property
September 23, 2001 – Rehabilitation for broken ribs and shoulder
October 10, 2001 – Are surgeries covered under Canadian healthcare?
December 28, 2001 – When to stop taking painkillers
February 13th, 2002 – Real estate listings
April 6, 2002 – British Columbia
May 1, 2002 – British Columbia baseball tryouts
May 3, 2002 – Unable to throw baseball without pain in shoulder
July 9, 2002 – Painkiller addiction
August 13, 2002 – University applications
February 14, 2003 – Effects of depression
May 21, 2003 – Alternative routes after high school
June 10, 2003 – Job posting sites
September 1, 2003 – Cam shows
December 25, 2003 – How to celebrate Christmas without family and friends
December 31, 2003 – New Year's resolutions: defeating painkiller addiction
January 6, 2004 – Cam shows
January 19, 2004 – Cam shows
February 14th, 2004 – Redemption and Islam
May 1, 2004 – LD50 of common prescription drugs | Facebook
Tumbler
Spanish Inquisition
Google Translate
Jobs in Appleton, WI
*Clear History*
Calc chat
Facebook
Best way to hide bruises
*Clear History*
Cheap Bus tickets
Cheap apartments Appleton WI
Emancipated Minor?
*Clear History*
Gmail
Tumblr
Counseling confidentiality rules for minors
Free Counseling services
*Clear history*
-Month Later-
Gmail
Job Appleton, WI
Homeless shelters Appleton, WI
Free Counseling? | 2015-02-04T18:35:51 | 2015-02-04T16:52:51 | 101 | 46 |
[WP] Lights start appearing on the moon. An ancient machine coming to life. Scientists determine it is a orbital defense platform programmed to protect earth. A large ship obliterates the moon. A message; "Greetings brothers and sisters, we are finally home. You could not keep us away forever." | *"Dad!" Jessie screamed, fighting against the humanoid creatures to get to her father.*
*Blood streamed down his face, dripping into his eyes and painting his face an awful scarlet. She was sure that another few hits, and he would've been dead. Within an inch of his life, that's how they wanted him. If the leader of the free world could be brought to his knees, the rest of the world would fall in line rather quickly.*
*A hand wrapped around Jessie's mouth, the fingers long and spindly, like spiders' legs covered in skin. Her screams died at her lips as she was pulled backwards.*
*"Be grateful they are not killing him, little sister." One of the creatures whispered to her. "They have been merciful thus far."*
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Jessie woke with sweat running down the sides of her face, the nightmare fresh in her mind. No matter how many days passed, the nightmare was always the same, she was always helpless, and her father never got away. He'd been like a rag-doll in their arms, nearly lifeless, and when the Siblings broadcasted him for all the world to see, he was almost unrecognizable. His face had been a mess of red, purple, blues, and yellows, his lips, cheeks, and nose swollen like melons. He'd barely been able to talk when the camera was pointed at him, but he'd managed to croak out,
"The Siblings know better. They are wise. They will lead us."
After that, any hope of rebellion faded away. If they had gotten to Jessie's dad, the leader of the most powerful country in the world, what would they do to everyone else who disobeyed? No one had wanted to find out, and it had been that way for the past five years.
Jessie glanced at herself in the mirror, taking quick note of what she needed to fix before she began the day. She ran a brush through her ratty hair, tangled as so due to her nightmare, and then splashed some water on her face. The Siblings didn't like makeup. They thought it made the humans look like monkeys. Jessie slipped into a button down shirt and a pair of black pants and then exited her room.
In the hallway of her old home, Sibling Arya greeted her with a simple nod of her head. "Good morning, little sister Jessie."
Jessie nodded back. "Good morning, sister Arya. Where is brother Taryon?"
Arya pointed further down the hall. "Brother Taryon is in the Table Room. He is in a meeting, but I am sure he would not be uncomfortable with your entrance."
Jessie smiled. "Thank you, sister."
The Table Room was what the Siblings called her father's old meeting room. It was fitted with a long, wooden table meant to seat his advisers and other important figures while they discussed whatever topics had risen to their attention. Jessie had never been told what exactly was talked about during these meetings, but sometimes they ran for days, only stopping so they could rest and eat. Now, the room housed the leaders of the Siblings, and brother Taryon was the head honcho. When her father had been taken in five years ago, rather than kill his entire family, brother Taryon decided to enslave them, personally choosing Jessie to act as his servant.
Without waiting for permission, Jessie opened the door to the meeting room and walked inside, letting the door swing shut behind her. Inside, every Sibling looked towards her, with brother Taryon sitting at the head of the table. He was tall, taller than any human she'd ever seen, with smooth, brown hair that came across his head like a wave. His eyes were a dark green when he locked his gaze onto hers, his anger at being interrupted quickly being replaced with relief. That was what was most frightening about the Siblings. They weren't quite human, but they almost were. She found that, recently, she'd been confusing the Siblings for humans, like the lines between the two species were beginning to enmesh and blend. The thought scared her more than any punishment they could use against her, the idea of them becoming as familiar to her as her own people.
"Good morning, Jessie." Brother Taryon smiled at her.
"Good morning, brother Taryon." She replied calmly. "I hope I am not interrupting."
He shook his head. "Of course not, my dear. Your presence is always a welcome one. You may have a seat."
Jessie took her place in the corner where a chair had been set out for her. Brother Taryon trusted her enough to allow her in the meeting room, so she gratefully took her place in the chair. She'd worked this hard to get his trust, and all she had to do to keep it was be silent and do whatever he said.
"I do not mean to evade the topic, brother Taryon, but do you not think the human should wait outside?" Sister Melanium quipped.
*The human,* Jessie thought. Even after five years, that's all she was to them. Not that she really cared, they were still Siblings to her, but it only showed that they weren't any closer to accepting the humans than the humans were to accepting them.
Brother Taryon looked mildly annoyed, like he couldn't fathom why sister Melanium would ask such a question, but when he replied, his voice was cool and collected.
"I apologize, sister Melanium, I know this is your first visit, so you are unfamiliar with my servant. This is sister Jessie. She has served me faithfully since our return."
"I did not ask her identity." Sister Melanium snapped, her curls bouncing around her face as she shook her head. "I asked why she is in this room while we are discussing rather... personal topics."
At that, Jessie perked up but kept her mouth closed. Even one outburst could erode all the trust brother Taryon had in her. She was supposed to be a good little human and stay in her place.
Brother Taryon raised his voice, addressing the entire table to clear the air. "Jessie stays. She will not react to anything said here. I trust her."
With the final word, he shot her a look as if to get her reassurance that she'd do exactly as she was told. She nodded softly, and he relaxed.
"Fine." Melanium sighed. "Back to the topic, then. I believe keeping Derrick alive is a threat to us all."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Continued in the comments because it was too long. I've never had that happen before! | "This is Charles Velkin of CNN here with breaking news. We have just received confirmation that the mysterious lights on the moon visible last evening are **not** attributable to any terrestrial action. President Harris is scheduled to issue a press briefing shortly from the White House, we will join White House Correspondent Sarah Lewis now." The screen shifted to a split view. "Sarah, tell me, is there any indication of what the lights are?"
There was a brief delay before Sarah started speaking, her hand pressed tightly against her ear in an effort to drown out the tumult of the White House briefing room behind her. "As of right now, there is no official confirmation beyond the fact that the lights are **not** terrestrial in nature."
Samantha Church tore her eyes from the television screen and drew her blonde hair back into a messy bun, her gaze drifting across the room to her husband. He was ensconced on their living room couch, their two young daughters sitting beside him under a fluffy blanket. He returned her look, his face a mix of curiosity and fear. Charlotte poked her head up, tugging on his beard, "Daddy, what does terrestrial mean?"
He pulled her onto his belly, hugging her tight, "It means from Earth."
Charlotte was quiet for a moment, sorting through the information. "So the lights aren't from here?"
Ben shrugged, "I guess we don't know, we're waiting on the President to tell us. But it's a very exciting time to be alive."
"How come we didn't know about the lights on the moon before?" Devin asked as she crawled over beside Ben and pushed her head into the crook of her arm.
"That's a good question too. I guess mommy should have visited the moon the last time she went to space," Ben replied.
"I would have stopped by, but it was a bit out of the way." Sam's eyes flicked to the picture of her floating in space aboard the ISS 2, blowing a kiss at the monitor. It had been her last flight before she was grounded and joined Central Command. Sometimes, when she dreamed, she still felt like she was up there, hundreds of miles above the earth's surface. She walked over and sat on the couch as well, her feet propped up on Ben's legs.
Ben nodded toward the screen, "There she is. Wonder what she's got for us."
President Harris appeared on the screen and strode to the podium. She adjusted her glasses once and then turned her piercing blue eyes to the American people. "Fellow Americans, as many of you know, last night a number of lights appeared upon the surface of the moon. These lights were of unknown origin and the world's space-faring countries worked throughout the night to confirm that they were not the product of any actions undertaken by humanity." She took a deep breath before continuing, "We allocated resources to examine the phenomenon and have confirmed that the lights are tied to a number of structures that have emerged from the surface of the moon." A small graphic appeared beside her, showing a massive obelisk towering above the lunar surface, a giant glowing light affixed to its apex. "We have identified five hundred and twelve separate obelisks."
There was a small commotion at this. More than one hand shot up in the briefing room. "I will answer what questions you have shortly, once I have delivered the total available information." A new image appeared, visualizing the globe of the moon, slowly rotating with pinpoints marking out each obelisk. "We can further confirm that these obelisks are connected, with a latticework creating a densely interconnected network between the towers." Thousands of small lines appeared, connecting each obelisk to its immediate neighbors and with a few dozen thick lines that encircled the entire moon. "Until last night, these towers and the underlying infrastructure was entirely unknown to us. We have reason to believe it was activated sometime last evening."
The camera panned in now, focusing on her face rather than the briefing room. The seal of the President slid out of view. "The intensity of the lights increased at an exponential pace throughout our night." She gulped once now, her throat contracting as she swallowed. "They reached peak intensity approximately twenty minutes ago, at approximately 5:30am Eastern Standard Time. Once they arrived at peak intensity, a fluctuation of energy surged through the network and a small set of obelisks facing outside of our solar system discharged all of the energy contained within the network in a series of pulses." A series of images showing a number of waves of brilliant white light firing into the deep of space appeared. "We have tracked the trajectory of these images and have identified a number of unknown objects."
A fuzzy image now appeared. "They are only visible under modified views that we use to locate exoplanets." The image shifted, with a number of dark objects being given faint outlines. "We have conclusively determined that these objects are not a standard space-born phenomenon." Another gulp. "They're accelerating."
Pandemonium broke out, each of the reporters jostling to get a question in.
Ben looked at Sam, "What do you think, space girl?"
Sam pressed her lips together, lost in thought, "I don't---"
The sentence was interrupted by her phone, lighting up with a dull red hue.
Alert.
Central Command.
*Commander Church. Report to CentCom.*
**Platypus OUT.**
**Want MOAR peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus | 2019-05-11T17:52:34 | 2019-05-11T17:14:06 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] There’s a city divided into 4 districts, govern by factions: knights on the north, pirates on the south, samurais on the east and cowboys on the west. And on the middle stands the only being that keeps the balance: the strongest and the wisest, the peacekeeper, and it’s you, The Bartender. | 'Oblivion' was the only thing that kept the four kingdoms alive. Oblivion was a safe space. Everyone who came there was granted immunity no matter what they did. When you came to my bar, your identity was left at the door. Murderers and thieves drank with their victims. If not for my tiny shack, the confines of our city would've been plunged into chaos and war at a scale never before seen.
And now, that's what's going to happen.
That day started like any other. I wiped the counter, cleaned the shelves and prepared myself for the flood of inter-kingdom travellers that would soon arrive.
Soon enough, I was too busy in the flow of preparing drinks to get people blackout drunk as soon as possible. I noticed a man walk in, one I'd never seen before. But that was okay. Even I, on all my years of bartending, couldn't have met everyone in the city.
He sat down and took his hat off.
"What's your poison?", I asked him.
He looked me straight in the eye and said ,"Gasoline. As much as you have of it."
A strange request to be sure, but my reputation forbade me from not delivering the goods a customer wanted. I reached under the counter into my endless supply of every liquid and pour him gasoline until he asked me to stop. Satisfied with his haul, he paid me and walked out.
I didn't think much of it at the time, especially since I've had much stranger requests before.
By the time the last patron left the bar, I was so tired that I didn't really give a shit about anything except getting some rest. As I turned around, I felt a searing pain spread across my skull. And then darkness.
I awoke to the sound of flames eating up all I had ever known, all I ever had. Right before my eyes, 'Oblivion' faded into ashes. I stood there, watching my bar burn to a crisp. When the flames stopped burning, I heard complete silence. The sound of total nothingness shimmered in my ears. My heart was filled with rage unlike anything I'd ever felt.
A warhorn blew in the distance, signalling the start of what I'd sought to prevent my entire life. The kingdoms had declared war on each other, and without Oblivion, there was no place to talk it out.
As the impending death drew ever closer, I made a vow.
I would find that man, and unleash the fury of the universe onto him. | Endless fighting all around me. Some day the pirates need gold, some other day the samurai don't feel respected enough. Literally i couldn't care less. At this point im pretty sure they just need a reason to fight. There is only one thing they all respect the same. And it is this small broken tavern in the middle of the field. After a day of fighting and crying, killing and trying to survive they all just stop at exactly 5pm. Have a big laugh about it and come to my little tavern for a drink or two. But never once, in all those years of useless fighting, has there ever been a fight in my tavern. Not even an angry voice.
I didnt think about it much, when the generals of all parties came to me and told me to build this tavern. But now, i think i begin to understand.
| 2018-11-21T06:05:18 | 2018-11-21T04:22:55 | 35 | 23 |
[WP] Everyone has the Mega Man-like ability to steal another person's most valuable trait by defeating them in battle. You have the world's most valuable trait - incredible, inexplicable dumb luck - and you've won thousands of battle without even knowing you were fighting. | "I am known as Gunslinger Gilbert, but you can call me Gil," announced the man in black leathers. "And I am here to challenge you," he pointed at me with a gloved finger, "to a battle to the death."
People on the busy street turned their heads in our direction as they noticed the arsenal of guns that Gil had slung over his back.
I sighed deeply, slightly irritated that Gil had interrupted my morning jog.
"Hey, uhh Gil right?" I asked
He nodded.
"Maybe we should take this somewhere else?" I gestured to the busy morning traffic and to the pedestrians that were giving us a wide berth on the narrow sidewalk. "Somewhere with less people you know?"
I prayed that he was the sensible type.
"Oh yea, I know very well where this is going Jack," Gil nodded slowly with a stern expression on his face.
"Oh really? T-that's good then," I said surprised. What an understanding gentleman, I thought.
"I've heard the stories Jack, I ain't no fool."
I frowned, puzzled.
"Jack the Undefeated who has overcome thousands of battles against all odds with just sheer luck. We know the truth Jack. You are the man with the Devil's Luck," said Gil and smirked wickedly.
*Thousands* of battles? Since when did that happen? I wondered.
"I've done my research Jack," Gil said as he walked around me dramatically on the narrow street. "They say you like to take your challengers to an open field or some abandoned warehouse under the pretense that there would be no bystanders or obstacles in the way, but the truth is so that they can suffer a horrible fate."
"Hey that's totally not-"
"Warehouse collapses and the challenger dies eh? And you walk out without a scratch. Or even worse, death by a *ricocheting* bullet in the warehouse," Gil shook his head in disgust.
"Hold up, that totally never happened," I said sharply but then I remembered that just last week, an old building that I had walked by had collapsed suddenly on itself.
"That's not even the end of it. I've heard that those who you take to the open field suffer the most outrageous deaths. A meteorite falling out of the sky, or even *worse!* Compressed Spacetrash obliterating your enemies into smithereens." Gil stopped pacing around me, and spat on the floor. Then he gave me the a look of revolting disgust before pulling a hand cannon out from his back pocket.
I raised my hands into the air, "Hey Gil, maybe those things did happen, but I just wanna say that I never meant any harm to anyone. *Ever.*"
"Too little, too late Jack," he lifted the gun and pointed at my face.
I closed my eyes.
*Click.*
I opened my eyes.
"What the fuck?" he swore as he fumbled with the revolver.
He tossed the revolver aside, and reached for an automatic rifle on his back.
*Click,click,click,click.*
Nothing.
I watched patiently as Gil disassembled his gun, trying to pinpoint the problem.
Suddenly I noticed out of the corner of my eye, an old lady trying to jaywalk across the busy street. Without even thinking I ran to help her.
"Hey! Where the fuck do you think you're going Jack?!" shouted Gil as he tampered with his gun.
I ignored him.
"Hello ma'am, allow me," I smiled and gave her my arm.
"A-ah thank you young man," she took my arm with her frail hands.
With her hands on my arm, I lead the way across the busy street.
Suddenly the elderly lady started screaming, with her eyes wide.
Alarmed, I glanced around me and saw the disaster that lay before me. Dozens of cars had collided with one another around me. Some of the cars were flipped over and some of them were even stacked on top of one another like a house of cards.
The elderly women had let go of my arm, still screaming.
I realized that it was directed at me.
"-have you done?! Don't you know you're suppose to check both ways before crossing the street?!" she screeched.
"Oh..." I said thoughtfully. "Why would I do that?"
---------
/r/Em_pathy
| When I woke up yesterday, I learned I could breathe fire. It’s really more a curse than anything. My cat jumped up onto my chest, and I sneezed from all the hair he shed. I accidentally set my dresser on fire. My curtains ceased to exist at around 3pm because I had a major coughing fit. It really is kind of a downer. I mean, it’s not like I am going around and using it in single combat or anything, is it?
This kind of thing keeps happening, too. Just last Thursday I had a different weird incident. Now I have to be honest, last Thursday was a very weird day. The boss kept giving me more assignments in the morning, which was out of character. Then, a crazy man walked up to me during my lunch break and said he wanted to fight me. I thought for a while that he was talking to someone else. Like, who even challenges a mid-30s, overweight guy in an old business suit to a duel at 11 am? He kept insisting it from across the street while I ignored him, as polite people do. When he tried to run across the street, he was hit by a bus. It was a terrible tragedy of course, but I had no real part of it. That afternoon, Phyllis from accounting claimed that I stole her lunch! That’s even stranger, because obviously I was outside during lunch. When I got home that night, I could turn invisible.
Hell, last month I also had a stand out for the title of “weirdest day.” I was on vacation in the city of Detroit, and the richest-looking guy I had ever seen rolled passed in a beautiful Lamborghini. He rolled down his window and pointed at me with the finger-gun gesture. I pointed right back and laughed, since it was a weird thing to do, but then he got all mad! He revved the engine, and pulled into a U-turn to drive right at me. I sure was surprised, but I was even more surprised when a bolt of lightning hit his car. Like, isn’t lightning supposed to strike the tallest object around? Also, it was a pretty sunny day, so there shouldn’t have been lightning in the first place. I didn’t question it of course, since it stopped me from being hit with his car, but it sure was wild. That night, I figured out that I was able to run super fast for short bursts. It looks really strange at first, since I am *not* a runner, but it can be quite useful.
All these coincidences and weird party tricks I can pull really make me wonder. They just seem too strange to all happen to one guy, but what can I say? I guess I’m just lucky.
| 2018-02-20T12:30:50 | 2018-02-20T11:18:50 | 3,009 | 853 |
[WP] You are a princess whose father has just remarried. You’re ecstatic— a wicked stepmother means the start of your own fairy tale, and a guaranteed happy ending. Problem is, your stepmother is… nice. And it seems to be genuine. | "No, no, no, no, no! Get out of my room!", Princess Cassandra yelled.
Queen Helena was heartbroken. She had with her a silver tray of sweet treats and tea. She had thought it would be nice for her and the princess to bond, but the princess clearly had a different idea as she threw a tantrum.
"Cassandra, please. I know it's been hard for you that you lost your dear mother. I know it is for your father, and for me too. She was my queen", Queen Helena slowly placed the tray on a table.
"I'm not here to replace her, but I would love it if we can have a relationship", Queen Helena said.
"Why are you like this?!", Princess Cassandra yelled.
The queen tear up, her face turned red. "Wh-what do you mean?"
"You're so...nice!", the princess said.
Queen Helena was confused, unsure on what to say.
"Cassandra, what are you talking about?"
"A stepmother is supposed to be evil! You're supposed to be evil! I can't have my fairy tale come true without a wicked stepmother!", Casandra kept yelling.
The queen was speechless. On one hand she was happy being acknowledge as nice, but on the other hand...well, never she met someone who hated her for being so nice.
"Cassandra, come on..."
"Get out! I don't want to talk to you! You're ruining my fairy tale!", Cassandra screamed before crying onto a pillow.
"Oh dear...", the queen went to the princess to console her, but quickly was rejected.
"Get out!", the princess yelled.
The queen exited the room. Resting against the closed door, she sighed deeply.
The whole day Queen Helena sulked, in silence she walked around the castle ground, thinking deeply before finding herself sitting by her rose garden until the sun set and evening came.
"What should I do?", she muttered.
*"Oh I hear a cry for help"*, a disembodied voice startled the queen.
Glowing glitters spiraling beside the bewildered queen. Slowly the glitters formed into a beautiful woman in shiny white dress. With her she carried what seemingly to be a wand, decorated with a silver star on its tip.
"What is the matter, my dear?", asked the Fairy Godmother.
The queen was stunned, her jaw dropped.
"Who...who are you?", the queen asked.
"Why, I'm the Fairy Godmother, of course", answered the magical stranger. "I heard a cry for help coming from a princess, so I came to make your dreams come true, my dear"
The queen shook her head quickly.
"But I'm not a princess, Fairy Godmother. I am Queen Helena of Sant-Jurrem Kingdom. Betrothed to King Alexander after the passing of the beloved Queen Mary", she answered.
"Oh!", Fairy Godmother exclaimed. "Oh...", she cocked her head, confused.
"This is...unusual. But no matter, I am here to help. What is the matter, my queen?", Fairy Godmother asked.
"Well...", the queen began. "After I married the king, I was determined to make the best out of the situation. Fulfilling my royal duty, filling the huge shoes left behind my Queen Mary, caring for the people, caring for the kingdom. But the most important of all, I wanted the king's family to be strong and loving, together once more after the hole left by the late Queen Mary"
"It's Princess Cassandra, Fairy Godmother. I tried my best to connect with her, to be the best stepmother to her. It's not my goal to replace Queen Mary as her mother, but I want her to know that I am here for her if she ever needed me..."
Fairy Godmother rubbed her chin, thinking.
"Oh, unusual indeed. I usually deal with princesses and their wicked stepmothers...but a wicked stepdaughter? Well, that's a first"
Queen Helena sat up straight, her expression became stern.
"Cassandra isn't wicked, Fairy Godmother! How dare you!"
"I beg your pardon, my queen. It's but a common expression", Fairy Godmother apologized. "But do you know, why oh why the princess refused you, your highness?"
"Oh uh...it is strange, Fairy Godmother. But she said she wanted her fairy tale to come true, but without a wicked stepmother it will never be true", the queen explained.
Fairy Godmother thought for a minute.
"Wow, that is new alright. But I think, I can very well help you, my queen", Fairy Godmother stood and began twirling her wand.
"Wha...really? How? You're not going to change me evil, are you?"
Fairy Godmother stopped her wand and frowned. "Why, you don't want to?"
"Of course not! I want to be a good mother to her! I don't want to be a wicked stepmother!", the queen yelped.
Fairy Godmother sighed. She went back to sit and thought hard.
"Oh!", she remarked after a few seconds of thinking. "How about...?"
Fairy Godmother hush whispered to the queen's ear of her plan.
"Are...are you sure?", the queen asked.
"Only one way to find out", Fairy Godmother smirked.
\*\*\*
Princess Cassandra was still sulking, her pillow was drenched of her tears. She was still lamenting the incompletion of her fairy tale when the door was knocked.
"Go away! I don't want to see anyone!", she yelled.
"C-Cassandra", Queen Helena entered the bedroom and the princess saw red once more.
"I said I don't want you here! Get out!", Princess Cassandra.
Queen Helena composed herself, inhaling deeply.
"N-no!", she raised her voice which startled the princess.
"You...you will not speak to your stepmother like that! For this...this insolence I shall punish you!", Queen Helena gave her best wicked performance and strangely Princess Cassandra's face lit up.
"I *order* you to go to the kitchen and prepare a feast for the king and myself!", the queen said.
The princess suddenly stood and ran to the queen, dropping before her feet.
"Oh mother, forgive me. Please don't punish me", the princess' tone changed to a helpless one.
The queen glanced back to the door, to the Fairy Godmother popping her head in, nodding.
"Enough! I will hear no pleading! Now g-go...go to the kitchen, and do your duty to your wicked stepmother!", the queen said still with a commanding tone.
The princess stood and ran out from her room, seemingly distraught though she couldn't hide the excitement of finally starting her fairy tale as she giggled all the way to the kitchen.
Queen Helena sighed as she joined by the Fairy Godmother.
"Well done! I didn't know you could act that well", she complimented the queen.
"Thank you. But...is this really the best idea we can do?", the queen asked, still not convinced. "This feels like I'm enabling such a bad behavior..."
"Well...for now, at least, let the princess live her dream. Every time you want to spend some time with her, just throw around *I order you* and *wicked stepmother*. It's weird, I know...but at least for now she wouldn't mind being around you", said the Fairy Godmother.
"Let's hope you're right", said the queen as she went to join the princess in the kitchen to be the not-really-wicked stepmother.
r/HangryWritey
Edit: added a sentence | Every stepmother is cruel.
Or, that's what the stories say at least.
Cinderella’s cruel stepmother, Hansel and Gretel’s stepmother forcing them into the woods, the back-breaking labor assigned by the wicked women in Diamonds and Toads, not to mention the Evil Queen from Snow White.
But here’s the thing, without the wicked women odds are the stories never would have happened. Snow White never would have fled the place without her stepmother’s attempt to kill her. Sure, it may have seemed bad at first, but in the end, she fell in love with a handsome prince.
So when your father, a high-ranking duke, announced at the dinner table he was engaged to an aristocratic lady from a faraway land, you were stunned. On one hand, you knew she would be cruel to you, the only other girl in the family. But on the other, your life’s fairy tale would begin. So in the days leading up to her arrival, you read and re-read every story the castle owned involving stepmothers. You wondered if you’d be made no better than a slave like so many others, or if she’d try to kill you for your beauty. That way, when your stepmother arrived and began her reign of terror upon you, you’d be ready.
So that was how you found yourself standing on the steps of the manor with your six brothers and father, all dressed in your house colors of green and gold and white, all wearing gloves. You kept your ears strained, listening for the distant braying of horses or rumble of wheels on the path. Your eyes remained as open as far as they could go, desperately trying not to blink for fear you’d miss her arrival. And luckily your efforts paid off, for soon you saw the tell tail cloud of dust kicked up by the horse’s furious pace, only to find a baby blue and moon white carriage in front of you.
“Presenting, the Lady Ameilia of the House of Sky!” One of the coachmen said as the other bowed and opened the door to reveal my soon-to-be stepmother.
I craned my head to get a good look at her, the images you had conjured in my head flooding back to me. Clearly, the cruel stepmother would be tall and thin with sharp angels and the palest skin. She’d have a severe yet regal look to her, like a snowstorm. Undoubtedly, she’d have dark hair and sunken eyes and would wear long dresses in only the darkest of shades.
But the moment she stepped out of the carriage, you realized just how wrong you were. Warm brown skin and kind eyes replaced what you had expected to be cold and forbidding. Lady Amelia wore a light blue, summery dress instead of the dark colors you imagined her in with her brown hair that was only a few shades darker than her skin swept up into a bun adorned with white flowers and pearls.
Okay, you thought to yourself as I watched her take in the area, Stepmothers are oftentimes beautiful. That doesn’t mean she isn’t cruel.
But as her gaze lept over each one of my rowdy brothers and me to my father, she did something you did not expect, she squealed, squealed, my father’s name, and flew into his arms, her grin so wide it could be nothing but sincere.
“Welcome home, Amelia,” My father said, holding her close.
Lady Amelia smiled and looked up at him. “I’m very excited to be here.” Her kind eyes flicked to you, brown and full of warmth as she said, “I’m assuming you’re to be my stepdaughter? I’m very pleased to meet you.”
My father smiled broadly. “I’m sure you two will get along just dandy. Daughter, perhaps you could lead your stepmother inside for some tea?”
You nod, watching as my father gave Lady Amelia a squeeze before letting go and walking over to where my brothers were attempting to climb Lady Amelia’s carriage.
“Boys will be boys,” Lady Amelia sighed, clearly also watching the debauched spectacle of six young boys all attempting to climb the large thing and three men trying to keep them off.
Curtly, you nod and say, “Tea is being served in the Atrium if you will follow me.” You don’t look back or wait to see if she follows, mainly because you were curious what she would do when you were out of your father’s sight. But even though you don’t look back, you here her following. The click of heels and the swish of fabric all make you too alert of her movement as she follows you down a hall with not a single servant in sight. Where were they? Should they not be bowing to the new mistress of the house? Or did they suspect the same things you did about her possible cruelty?
Being so focused on the servant’s whereabouts, you didn’t notice Lady Amelia was right behind you until she brushed your arm from behind, reaching out with an ungloved hand.
“Sorry if I startled you,” Lady Amelia said softly, “I just wanted to say that I know that this is a big adjustment for us both, so maybe we try and get to know each other a bit? I’ve heard all about the stories of wicked stepmothers so I’ll be sure not to be one.”
You nodded and pulled off one of your silver-green gloves to place your hand on her bare forearm. Silence fell between you as you looked at Lady Amelia’s face and she looked at the hand you placed on her forearm.
Finally, after what felt like a season or two, you said, “We should probably get that tea and some sweets before my brothers eat it all.”
Lady Amelia laughed, a genuine, throaty sound, not a crackle, and walked beside you the rest of the to the atrium. | 2021-10-10T23:37:55 | 2021-10-10T23:32:44 | 314 | 35 |
[WP] Hi! I'm the main character! Or so you would have me be. I want you to know that no matter what you write, I refuse to be the main character in your little game and will avoid any instance where you try to put me into a situation that does so.
Edit: Once again, a huge thank you to everyone so far who's written a story based on the prompt. It always makes me happy when you use your free time to create a short story!
Edit 2: I do my best to reply to every story written by the authors and will continue to do so.
Edit 3: R.I.P. My inbox, this is easily one of my favorite subs. I'm trying so hard to read every story and reply!
Edit 4: The next day and people are still submitting, still trying my best to reply to every story. You guys have been awesome :)
Disclaimer: This is absolutely not an original idea. "Writer vs Character" is a very popular idea from a lot of sources. I wanted to see what the sub could come up with! Thanks :3 | The four adventurers arrived in the tavern after their long trek back from Lich's castle. Surrounding them was a cacophony of drunken patrons. Finally they could rest. Before they could even take their seat, they were accosted by a dishevelled elderly man draped in old rotten robes.
_Hello there young travellers. Might I beseech you to assist a weary old wizard as myself in reclaiming an ancient mystical amulet from the clutches of an evil dragon?_
The party just shrugged him off. They finally take their seats when screaming can be heard coming from the floor above them.
_Leave em be._
The Dwarf in the party grumbled. The group were starting to become obviously annoyed. They had just had one big adventure and were really not looking to start another one soon. A small boy started to tug at the cloak of the Elven ranger's cloak.
_Please mister, could you please help me find my mama. She got taken in the bandit raid a few days ago and my Pa died of the fever last month._
The tears welling up in the poor boys eye might have just been enough to coerce the party into leaving their ales if it weren't for the roguish Tiefling in their party.
_Beat it kid. No gold, no mama_
A loud booming voice cracked through the air, silencing the tavern.
_God damnit guys. I spent all week writing some adventures for you guys and all you want to do is sit in a bloody tavern and drink ale. Yes I know you're role playing but still, you're never gonna get the cool loot aren't you if you stay here. For fucks sake! You know what, I know what I'm going to do._
The patrons of the tavern have started to notice how the group of assholes sitting in the middle of the tavern, having just pushed away a young boy for apparently no reason. The citizens of the tavern don't take too kindly to strangers. They start unsheathing their weapons.
_Roll for initiative._ | Marshall was leaving the bank when he heard the first gun shot. It had come from inside! He reached for his concealed weapon and tried tri tr
threw it on the ground. Marshall want wan WANTS A SODA STOP MAKING HIM A HERO HE
He heard a woman scream and *knew* he should go inside to stop the crimina
Marshal shot his middle finger into the sky and took off at a brisk pace to a McDonalds down the street. | 2016-02-11T09:14:08 | 2016-02-11T09:05:58 | 248 | 22 |
[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself | (I don't usually write for these so be gentle)
The day finally came. It was my turn like my brother and sister before me. They each got their powers and now have been assigned jobs that took advantage of their powers.
My brother with his super strength works in a foundry lifting heavy materials. While my sister with her healing powers works in the local hospital. Both are super happy with their lives mostly.
Some of my older friends have their powers as well. Some are really cool and useful like my siblings. Some aren't as useful like my friend who got super speed typing.
Now it was my turn. The elders and trainers looked on in the room we were all in. Every power had a specific trainer. Their job was to make sure you learned how to use your powers correctly. Everyone had to walk up to what they were gonna eat. Then we all took a bite at the same time.
Usually a bit of hell broke loose for a moment as people got used to their new abilities. Some things let you even morph into animals! I wouldn't mind that one. You get to work at the zoo as an exhibit.
We then heard the 1 minute warning. We all got ready to take a bite out of our food. Except me, I hadn't picked anything yet. I quickly thought about the different foods as time was being counted down. If you didn't take a bite out of something you'd be a "normie" or "PL" a powerless individual. That's not something you want. Then I heard the count down and panicked. I kneeled down and when I heard "Bite!" I took a bite out of the table.
I heard a few gasps from the elders and trainers. I did something never done before. See what we didn't know was that every food had been prepared by the trainers according to a special recipe and that's how their powers were passed on during this short window in our life. However, no one could remember who on earth made the table. It had always been there since the beginning.
As other people's powers came forth and the elders were dealing with that, one came up to me and asked how I was feeling. "Nothing has happened yet. So I don't know." I said to them. "Well it can take some time to manifest. Go get some water and splash some on your face. See how you feel." they replied.
So I went to the bathroom and splashed some water on my face. As I was calming down I was reminded of a rain storm when I was younger. The water splashing on my face made me remember it. All of a sudden I heard rain outside and a voice in my head say "Command accepted. Altering weather to rainstorm."
I froze. Where did that voice come from? I then thought about sunny weather instead to see if I could get it to come back. I heard it again "Command accepted. Altering weather to calm and sunny. Average temperature.". What was this I thought to myself. Then I heard a reply that scared me "Welcome back Superuser. Root command access granted. Account Deity reactivated."
An elder I hadn't seen previously came and found me at the sink and said "We need to talk about your new power. There's only supposed to be one of us at time. You weren't supposed to take a bite out of my table ya goof." with a smile on his face. "Come now. You have a lot to learn so I can finally die in peace." | *Chocolate,* I though, licking my lips. The piece that I broke off the table was coating my hands with a greasy, brown coating. I put the rest in my mouth and felt satisfied, although that thick steak that is rumored to give you the ability to talk to animals was definitely catching my attention.
Or that peppermint gum that for some reason gave you the ability to read people's minds.
I wanted something nobody had. I didn't know what was gonna happen if I tried. The worst that could happen was that I would break my teeth on the wood but somehow that didn't happen.
Over the speaker i could hear the council laughing. The announcer was obviously amused and said, with obvious joy in his speech, "Oliver, you may proceed into the next room."
I got up from the chair. As I walked to the door, I wondered if the chair, too, was edible. And if it was - what would it taste like? What powers did it give? But it was too late to find out. I turned the knob and walked out, to be greeted by the three council men and the announcer. The announcer put a small, black box on the table. It looked like the kind of box that you would put an engagement ring in. Only it was round. A glass of water was given to help swallow the green pill nestled inside.
"Does the water also give me powers?" I asked, jokingly.
"No," the announccer said. "At least, not this water."
I smiled and opened the box. Inside, the pill rested on a velvet cushion. A miniature, golden plaque was attached to the top of the box and I read out the power that would be bestowed on me.
*Reality Wrapping*
"What does that even mean?" I asked.
"Proceed into the next room," one of the councilmen said. "You'll find out." | 2020-03-19T10:22:13 | 2020-03-19T09:58:32 | 172 | 31 |
[WP] There exist individuals with the ability to traverse and manipulate a person's dreams. Many of these individuals, including yourself, formed different offices that specialize in helping people cope with different mental and social disorders. You accepted a depressed client labeled "lost cause" |
“Broken” was a polite way of describing the mental frame of Arthur Stints.
The man had been born into abuse, suffering long before he had any real memory of it. Long before he had any realization that what was happening to him was as morally deposed as eating shit for breakfast, which thankfully the young Arthur hadn’t experienced, at least not according to his records.
By the time he was eight his mind had already broken in several ways. He knew love as chains and blood, and measured, unconsciously, his breaths and movements so as not to disturb others as he walked. He spoke no language, never read a book or saw a kids show. When the police finally freed him from the hell of his childhood he weighed sixty pounds. His last meal had been a handful of uncooked pasta.
The first of my people to discover him tried his hand at assessing him the usual way. He waited nearby outside the orphanage, rolled into a cheap sleeping bag near some bushes with a pillow waiting for the boy to succumb to sleep. They waited and waited through the night for the moment but it never came. It was revealed by a caretaker later that the boy seldom slept, and when he did only for two hours, and always lightly enough that he could react to even the faintest sound. With no sleep there were no dreams to dive into, no mind to counsel. Trauma had robbed the child of even himself.
We did not give up though. One week after the first report, extreme measures were taken, a medicine slipped into the boys drink that would render him asleep for several hours. This was the decision that ultimately led to the status of “lost cause.”
When one of ours was finally able dive inside, he reported at first that there appeared to be a sort of barrier barring his descent. Trauma was usually responsible for such an obstruction, but it was noted that the barrier was immensely dense and ominous. We should’ve stopped then and considered why it was such a way, but in all our hearts this child needed to be freed from his torment by any means necessary. In a rare instance, two more of my people joined into the boys mind and began to work in unison to dig through the barrier of shadows. It took three hours until they could finally open a path to the other side, to the core of the boy that they needed to get too so they could free him. Once they made the path they began to descend down, but something beat them to it, diving in with a force that nearly smothered all three of them.
In the moments that they ripped themselves awake again there was a silence between them. A look of despair that was so heavily framed in their eyes that no one dared to ask what had happened.
The barrier of black orbiting the core of the boy was no barrier. It was malice accumulated, pure and potent and held at bay by the child's will, by the iota of goodness he’d somehow managed to find and hold onto against all thoughts and pains. In thinking we were helping him, we tore a hole in those defenses, and in that moment the darkness of his life accumulated, spilled into the very depths of his being. All of them there say they could feel his true warmth, the warmth he’d protected though all the abuse and strife, being drowned in the bile of hatred and consumed. We had caused him to fall into a despair deeper than he’d ever known, and we had no way to reverse it.
Years passed.
The boy grew into a man of high authority, a man who appeared stalwart and strong at first impression, but deep within was a tyrant tempered in the black of his past. The man Arthur was also like us; a dreamer, and an incredibly adept one even without training. Because of his malice though his mental touch was like a plague, an excitable rot that spun apart the minds of those afflicted. He has become a monster of an intensity never before created, and we are to blame.
Today the last of us, those who still dare to use their abilities to help the needy now embark on our final charge. Whether dead or alive, we will dismantle the tyrant of dreams, the young boy lost in the haze of his suffering, and put an end to his misery once and for all.
I write today to my wife and daughter, who may not see their husband and father return as he left. Today I write the wrongs of our past, and smother the boy who dreams in black. I love you both and goodbye. | The problem was easy to postulate, impossible to solve.
How do you fix what isn't broken?
"Lost cause"
Pills hadn't helped.
Neither had inhalants, exhalants, or the usual gamut of alcohol or nicotine, or any other -ine for that matter. The darkness was there. Sometimes right behind you, sometimes far off... but always there. It seemed inevitable.
The mind massage option, my familiars' special specialty, had failed. A dozen practitioners, nearly half our total, had tried to work with young LordWeebTrash.
My brethren worked through rote - Having Skill did not mean controlling Skill - First the cleaning and laying of hands, the chants, the honors to our teacher, then ritual silence. Upon entering the mind, they shifted the shapes back into place, restored the fragments, cleaned the place up... just as we were trained. They reassembled broken pieces, made the damaged whole.
LordWeebTrash was impossible for them.
He claimed to want help... but refused a new sense of self. They could not move his mind, nor could he be convinced to move it himself.
He clung to being broken because he chose it as his identity.
It was why they sent him to me. They had Skill. I Used Skill. It was not a recipe, a plan, a routine. It was raw unbridled talent, very nearly a free creature of its own, barely contained within my form. Forget the rituals. Forget the incense. Definitely forget the praises on high.
Due to the nature of Skill, I saw what needed to happen, and I acted. Often patients were cured within minutes. This was great for my overhead - As I didn't need a receptionist, or a separate office, or really anything besides a table and chairs. Payment was cash only. No books to speak of. Simple and easy.
He walked in, and right away, I knew what he needed. So I kicked him square in the fucking dick and I said -
"If you want to start over, FORGIVE, FORGET, MOVE AWAY, AND START OVER SOMEWHERE ELSE.
Forgive yourself and everyone else.
Forget all that fucking baggage.
Get on a grayhound and fucking move.
And the big step - STOP being LordWeebTrash and start being Carl or Albert or fucking Jacob or something.
He doesn't smoke. He doesn't drink. He works, and he reads book from the library, and he pays his bills. He is a well rounded, neat individual. His physical self will force his mental self to follow, until it can lead again." | 2019-06-12T16:34:31 | 2019-06-12T16:00:02 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] "Liar." "I'm telling the truth. They put themselves in pressurized metal boxes and launch themselves out of their planet with liquid fuel canisters. Humans are insane." | The Dors were humanoid in theory, though Avery didn't think much of them. They were bipedal, with arms and hair and eyes. They just didn't move like humans. They were just off enough that it bothered Avery, scared her even.
Yet, she was the oddity. They looked at her species like they were tadpoles or weird glittery gak that could somehow talk. They commented on her hair, her skin color, the way her eyes were so unnaturally small.
Her translator, a Dors named Chuetert, didn't seem to find the comments rude or insensitive. He called Avery "Avots", which in their language meant Blue. Which made sense, Avery had blue eyes, something no Dorian would ever *allow* in their own children.
Chuetert seemed to find Avery appalling and ugly in ways she had never found on earth. While Avery wasn't a stunner, she was pretty fit for her age [34F] and had once been a contender for the Olympics in gymnastics. She was blonde, blue-eyed, pale as a snow-sunned mountainside.
Yet the Dorians seemed to find the darker humans more wise, beautiful, and stunning. They matched their own skin, which ranged from dark red to almost black. It made Avery feel very ugly in this new world.
Yet, they valued her for her knowledge and her ability to talk to the Dorians. She had been chosen from her department for just that reason, her language skills brought great comfort to her people. Yet, she had to spend endless months in space with these people, learning their language, feeling like some sort of freak.
Two of the women working on the ship were Evalyn Smith and Aimee White. They were both from New York, having worked at the same firm for almost seventeen years. They tended to ignore Avery, though she was included in conversations at lunch. They just didn't seem to value her as much as they did more senior members of their own group: Mark Douglas, James Earl Tims, and Hannah Bugg.
Yet, tonight they were knocking on her door and asking her to join them.
"The *Dors* have asked to talk to us." Aimee said this with pride.
"What about Group A?" Avery asked.
"They don't care about GA, they want to talk to you." Evalyn shrugged. "They think that it would be rude to ask them things like this."
Avery got up, put on her clothes, and followed them. The light from the Space Window glowed with the light of the sept-moon.
When they arrived, a Dorian named Chiblyt rose to greet them.
"Vlum' and Vlueko," he said, greeting Aimee and Evalyn with joy. "You have brought Avots. She will tell us."
Avery met with several other familiar faces. The black-skinned Meikhiht. The silver-haired Chiblyhtie, from the Reading Room. And
Crybrirstea, the mean Dorian who refused to let Avery into the inner rooms, with the darker women.
"We want to know why your people used... *rockers* to get into space," Chiblyt demanded.
"I'm sorry. Rockets?" Avery asked.
"Yes. Why would the pale people choose to do that...?"
Avery sighed.
Not another night like this. | "That's *glarbugs*-on-*hgk* stupid," Ik'kufx said. "What kinds of devilments must be behind their *igkl*s that they would put themselves into metallic canisters with a high-explosive material and fire themselves? What *gnyx* is this? Arkeltan?"
K'nsthf shrugged, his paracles wafting about in the skinny breeze. "I don't know! I mean, this is serious stuff! They sometimes even use *gfljuns* as a power source! They *pzw* it, too!"
"*ghfk* off, Ken! That's clearly from *Utxw* News, and if you *glrg* to them, you're as stupid as a Feremi, Those plorgs are **weird**." Ik'kufx gargled in laughter, before taking iss head out of its compressac and putting it into its Home Body. It flexed the exosuit experimentally, testing for conduction, before motioning to its friend.
K'nsthf flopped his paracles, jogging to catch up to Ik'kufx. "I'm *plg*ing you, man! They're doing a live deathrite on one later this week. They're *crpy*, and that's no leg!" K'nsthf flipped over, passing his friend, before twisting his eyelets back to Ik'kufx. "Iggy, you want to *apght* and *skw* it after school?"
Ik'kufx bobbed, then a mettalic clank that sounded like a sign escaped its exosuit. "Fiiiine." | 2017-12-16T14:07:25 | 2017-12-16T12:51:29 | 38 | 20 |
[WP] In the galaxy, Humans are known as the best allies you could have... and the worst enemy you could imagine. | The Human Galactic Empire has a certain reputation that we tend to forget about.
See, humans are NICE. they're cheerful, and curious, and mostly people treat them like overeager kittens, sticking noses and paws into whatever catches their interest.
And sure, there's always those stories that go around. How the ship's human crawled through ventilation ducts, and everyone thought they would die but it turns out they breathe waste-gasses.
About that one time when a ship crashed with no expected survivors, and when the recovery team got there, the humans were growing crops and splashing in the groundwater.
They survive. Everyone knows that humans are hard to kill on purpose and harder to kill by accident. They can live through things that are the stuff of nightmares, and only come out stronger.
But they're CUTE. Cuddly and soft skinned with almost no natural weaponry. They're small- lighter than almost any other race, and deceptively easy to break, even if it probably won't actually kill them.
So when the Thraxxis invaded and the entire Galactic Alliance ran, because we were outmanned and outgunned, no one thought of the humans.
Unfortunately for them, neither did the Thraxxis.
First the humans fortified. Their own worlds were inhospitable anyway- they simply retreated to the parts where nothing else could live.
Next, they focused all their considerable determination on their allies. One by one, the alliance's populated worlds became bastions for the humans to fight from.
We watched in disbelief. The only thing to do when the Thraxxis came was to flee. They devoured worlds and their armada was unstoppable.
Unless, apparently, you were human.
The humans took casualties- of course they did. The Thraxxis were four meters tall, had bone spurs and claws, and were feared for their skill in combat. Somehow, that only spurred the humans on. Every massacre turned into a homing-beacon and was quickly- ruthlessly- avenged.
They seriously underestimated both the humans' terrifying ingenuity, and their startling territorialism. See, the humans are friendly. They are social. They are delighted to make friends with anything that holds still long enough to cuddle on.
They are also merciless, hard to kill, and traveled in packs of the strong, the fast, and the clever.
The invasion stalled. The Thraxxis couldn't breach any the protected worlds, and yet still more powerful than anything the Alliance could field.
A call went out across the galaxy and farther. We did not understood why the humans would cry for aid so loudly- surely simple communication was enough? What need was there for a scream that reached even distant stars?
When questioned, the Human Commander showed his teeth, and said only, cryptically, "E.T. Phone Home."
For months, the fight went stagnant. Only small frays and none of them much gain or loss for either side.
That was when something else appeared.
At first, we thought it was more enemies. The newcomers were massive- as big as a moon and filled to bursting with small, aggressive ships that swarmed anything that got near.
"That's no moon," The Human Commander told the Alliance, still cryptic, but eyes lit with the sort of smile the humans only made at their most deadly. He refused to explain, but the other humans seemed to understand nonetheless.
The moon-ship drifted into our occupied space, and when it was haled, a human face responded. A human, who wore a formal uniform. Who even the Commander spoke to with deference. His leader, from a galaxy the Alliance never knew the humans ruled.
Empire, we all remembered with sudden fear. The humans called themselves an Empire, and somehow no one ever questioned why.
Four more moon-ships arrived over the course of a week. With them came massive battleships, each capable of holding a world by themselves.
Humans breed fast, and suddenly we had cause to wonder just how many humans there really were, scattered here and there.
Trillions, the humans admitted casually when someone finally worked up the courage to ask. Spread over thousands of worlds and star bases. All emptied to defend the farthest wing of their sprawling empire.
The next battle would be forever remembered. It was the only time all five moon-ships fought together.
The Thraxxis looked at what they faced. At the moon-ships with their hives of fighters. At the warships, each a match for their own. At the worlds they lost, one by one as the humans rose up and tore apart their invaders.
The Thraxxis, wisely, fled with what little remained of their shattered armada.
The Alliance trembled. For so long, we believed that the silly pink monkeys were nothing, simply curious and cheerful.
The humans tried to reassure us. We were independent, they promised. They believed in the Alliance, and in the people, and in peace.
But we never forgot the might of the Human Galactic Empire. Our allies.
For now. | "Well, I went and did it. I pissed off a human," Temblax said.
Mallin rolled all of her eyes. "Dammit, Temblax, what have I said about the humans?"
Temblax recited verbatim: "Humans are the best allies you could have, and the worst enemy you could imagine."
"And what have you now empirically verified?" Mallin asked.
"Well," Temblax said, "I don't know about the 'ally' part-"
"My human," Mallin said, "guides me through their library of a genre named 'day-time television', which aims to summarize every possible emotion and romantic pairing of a group of characters in exactly 60 minutes. It is fascinating and i am glad to have his help. Humans make great allies like that. And yours?"
"You're right about the enemy thing."
Mallin made a gesture analogous to nodding. "Well, then, tell the story."
"I apparently 'cut' in a 'line'," Temblax said.
Mallin made a gesture analogous to facepalming, one surprisingly similar to the human gesture especially considering she possessed neither palms nor faces. "The humans revere their queues!" she said. "The Keeping of the Line is one of their most sacred duties!"
"I was unaware it was a queue. I offered apologies appropriate to our respective social stations, which is to say that they were vague, insincere, and resulted in no action to remedy the offense. I don't understand where I went wrong!"
"So," Mallin said, "what happened?"
"Well, the human contacted me remotely the very next day. He seemed concerned about the state of my appliances."
"Let me guess, he asked you if your refrigerator was running."
"Yes!" Temblax said. "I thought it very considerate for him to worry about food safety on my behalf."
"Uh-huh," Mallin said, "go on."
"And the next day, something appeared on my doorstep: A flaming bag of animal excrement."
"Classic," Mallin said. "At this point did you realize what was going on?"
"No, no, I thought it was a gift."
"What did you do with it?"
Temblax looked surprised at the question. "I ate it, of course. You simply *can't* find good flaming animal excrement around here. Believe me, I've looked."
"I don't suppose you thought to actually ask the human what was going on?" Mallin asked.
"I did! He confided in me, in fact, that he was having similar problems with others. Out of respect for their privacy, of course, he did not name them, but he had no trouble telling me that 'someone' ought to respect the queues and 'someone' should make apologies he meant."
"When," Mallin said, "did you finally learn about the human pastimes of prank phone calls, ding-dong-ditch, and passive aggressiveness?"
"A few days later," Temblax admitted. "I was researching how I could thank him in kind. I am shamed to say that I did not discover that these overtures were meant to be harmful until after I electrocuted him in the guise of a handshake."
"Your conclusion?"
Temblax made a gesture akin to shaking his head sadly, which happened to be exactly the same as shaking his head sadly. "Humans are just the *worst* at being enemies." | 2017-10-22T13:34:21 | 2017-10-22T09:59:25 | 120 | 73 |
[WP] It turns out humanity was the first, and only spacefaring species to master the atom. After a horrific galactic war, humanity had to bring out its nuclear weapons, to the shock and horror of the rest of the galaxy. | Gabriel knew his name would become synonymous with traitor. But really, what did it matter? Better to be a traitor than to be subservient to madmen, or to look the other way as the galactic genocide continued. On the ship's holographic screen, the tiny pinprick of the green planet was growing -- a grassy blade slowly becoming a hillock.
He'd been a soldier once-upon-a-time. Back before wisps of grey hair had strangled his natural blond. Before the pain arrived that squeezed his back each time he leaned over the ship's dashboard. Before the Totanians had been wiped clean from their planet that was now a charred ball of black -- a radiated graveyard of a once-great species.
Gabriel had been one of the first to sign-up when the war had broken out. Five civilizations battling for control of this sector of space -- as if the empty blackness contained any meaning at all, anything worthwhile. It wasn't even a barren no-man's land they'd been fighting over... it was literally *nothing*.
Supply and mining ships on their way from Earth to a new colony in the Betelgeuse system had gotten caught in the war's crossfire. That had forced the Solar Alliance -- and Gabriel -- into the fray.
It was strange, thinking back, how glitzy and glamourous a war in space had once sounded. Like those old films he'd watched growing up. Men charging out of fox-holes and bunkers and sticking a flag down in the liberated land. But by the end of the first year of the Solar Alliance's involvement, all of Gabriel's friends in the corps had been killed, their ships annihilated.
Their deaths had been the first pang of guilt to swell in his stomach. Why had Gabriel had survived and they hadn't? What was the purpose of his living while those around him died? -- He felt like there had to be a greater reason for each dogfight he survived.
When the Committee had voted to do something that would have seemed unbelievable only a year before, Gabriel had nodded, silently. The right choice. It would end the war early -- and there would be fewer casualties in the end.
The war between the civs had historically been fought in space and *only* in space. That was the way of the galaxy -- few civilians could be killed if there was no war on a planet's surface.
Humanity changed the rules.
"We deliver a couple of little parcels," his commander had told him, "onto one or two of the planets, and that's it. Game over. We've then done what they couldn't achieve in a thousand fucking years."
Gabriel had believed it. None of the other species had developed nukes... And once they saw the destruction, the fiery mushroom hell that only humans could deliver... That would be the end of all war forever. They would bow. And yes, humanity would have done something bad -- something terrible, even. But for the right reasons and for a just cause.
Only it hadn't been that simple.
Never was, Gabriel figured.
The 'green planet' careened into view. That had been its nickname back when it had been pristine. Now it was a smoldering muddy wreck, cratered and barely habitable. Not green anymore.
A ship orbited the planet -- twenty-times the size of Gabriel's one-man craft.
"Greetings, Gabriel Launder," crackled a voice over his intercom. "You may dock when you're ready."
Could he really do this?
The problem with the nukes had been first been demonstrated on Totania. Yes, they had inflicted the damage the Solar Alliance had intended. But the Totanians didn't just throw their hands up and surrender, as had been predicted.
They didn't surrender after a hundred nukes had fallen. Not even after a thousand.
They had *never* given up.
Not until the very last one of them had screamed into a fiery nothingness.
Every species involved in the war was proud -- and rightfully so. And they were all sickened by what the Solar Alliance had done. None would surrender to such a callous race of beings.
In time, Gabriel had been sickened, too. These weren't fighters or warriors they were bombing. These were children and parents and teachers and all the things he kept precious in his sugar-coated recollections of his own childhood.
The bombings were still happening. The galaxy-wide cleansing. It would continue until humanity was the final space-faring species in the galaxy.
Unless he did this.
Unless he gave them all the secrets of the atom.
Because the only kind of destruction humans ever respected, was mutual.
"I'm ready to dock," said Gabriel.
---
I raced my regular co-writer Ecstatic to write for this. I don't want to say hers was faster and better, but... :) If you enjoyed either /r/nickofstatic has lots of serials by both of us :) | Computer Log, Communications Satellite Relay S2052-419 orbiting Eridanus, Silanti’alth controlled Sector 9. 28th of the War Years.
10104431.0556- FF Indicators confirmed, 3rd Divergence Battle Group arrival, Dauntless (CSU094923), Harbinger’s Breadth (DDU119708), Maelstrom (CSU762541), Lament of Gods (CCU129800), Death and Reconciliation (CSU44291133)
10104431.558-FF indicator confirmed, flagship Remembrance and Conflagration (FRS117001).
10104431.602- Four unidentified contacts identified on dradis, from spatial direction 55degD, carom 257.
10104431.605- Plasma signature confirmed launch from Harbinger’s Breadth.
10104431.605- TWO HUMAN FALLJEVER-CLASS WARSHIP CONFIRMED. ALERT TWO SENT PLANETSIDE.
10104431.606- ONE HUMAN PHILOSTANT-CLASS WARSHIPS CONFIRMED.
10104431.606- ONE HUMAN SENECA-CLASS SUPERCARRIER CONFIRMED.
10104431.609- Kinetic signature confirmed, Seneca-class. Plasma bombardment confirmed launch from Remembrance and Conflagration.
10104431.609- Philostant-class warship hit by plasma. Ship falling to planet.
10104431.610- Confirmed plasma bombardments, Dauntless, Maelstrom, Lament of Gods, Remembrance and Conflagration.
10104431.610- Human Seneca-class carrier confirmed as ‘Earth’s Vengeance’. Kinetic firings confirmed from all human ships. Harbinger’s Breadth engine thrusters disabled, major structural damage to bridge and life support.
10104431.611- Falljever-class ships destroyed by plasma.
10104431.611- Harbinger’s Breadth scuttled. Lifeboats away.
10104431.611- Unknown operation detected.
10104431.611- Unknown operation detected. Gathering telemetry from nearby observation satellites.
10104431.611- Radiological weapons confirmed. Contact lost with Maelstrom, Death and Reconciliation. Ships breaking up in atmosphere. No lifeboat ejections detected.
10104431.612- Plasma bombardment confirmed launch from Remembrance and Conflagration.
10104431.613- Confirmed strike on Seneca- Class carrier. Hull damaged.
10104431.613- Two radiological launches confirmed.
10104431.614- Loss of contact with Remembrance and Conflagration, Lament of Gods.
10104431.616- Seneca-class carrier moving to planet Eridanus, carom 427.
10104431.619- Radiological launch detected.
10104431.620- Radiological launch detected.
10104431.620- Radiological launch detected.
10104431.620- Radiological launch detected.
10104431.623- Radiological launch detected.
10104431.623- Radiological launch detected.
10104431.625- Contact lost with planetside memory backups. All further data will be saved and stored on this unit. | 2022-12-15T08:44:27 | 2019-12-19T09:05:19 | 431 | 11 |
[WP] A superhero has a split personality, with neither his hero half nor his civilian half knowing that they are the same person. The rest of the city has figured it out, however, and is doing their best to keep his secret from himself. | At his desk, Cal scrolled through that morning’s headlines CAPTAIN COURAGEOUS SAVES CITY AGAIN! and FERVOR OVER MYSTERY HERO’S IDENTITY AT ALL TIME HIGH. Sighing deeply, he stirred the creamer in his steaming coffee mug more insistently. Why couldn’t he be someone like that? Instead, he spent the prime time of his life in an office cubicle, sitting on his ass all day, always late to meetings and wondering how he even managed to keep his job with the sheer amount of deadlines he always seemed to miss.
“Cal McCalvinson, you are the man I have been looking for all day!”
Cal swiveled around quickly, “Fred?” Black thick rimmed glasses threatened to slide off his nose, blurring the cubicles and people inside around him as he looked up at his colleague.
Fred held out his hand and Cal grasped it tentatively and was pulled up and out of his chair into a bone-crushing bro-hug. Three firm pats on his back served to send his glasses flying from their already precarious position into the aisle.
The hand on his back spun Cal and started propelling him through rows of cubicles to the main conference room. Slicing through Cal’s halfhearted, “but my glasses…,” The mouth belonging to said hand started propelling words in his direction, “Bossman wants you right away Cal, right away. Your latest proposal to capitalize on the popularity of Captain Courageous,” Fred paused here to make a very audible mwah! and Cal cringed. “Very good stuff my friend, very good-”
Fred’s arm twisted back painfully as Cal, just moments ago meekly allowing himself to be pushed along, abruptly stopped. Explosions were suddenly audible in the distance. Cal’s eyes began to glow softly as Fred brought his arm back to his side and in between one blink and the next, certainly much faster than Fred could mutter under his breath, “This shit again before 9 AM? Whatsit this time?” Cal’s body transformed, morphing from business casual to the iconic armored suit that Captain Courageous was known for. The entire office watched with a mixture of awe and indifference as the Captain phased through the tall glass windows that lined the office floor and walked across air 56 floors above the ground towards the commotion.
Reaching for his phone and walking slowly back to Cal’s cubicle, Fred bent down to scoop up Cal’s glasses and sighed as he dialed his boss. After three rings, she answered.
“We’re gonna have to cancel that meeting today, aren’t we?”
. . .
Two hours later Cal found himself slumped over his desk, glasses askew and his eyes aching and his body feeling on fire. He rubbed his eyes and straightened his glasses, glancing furtively around at his neighboring coworkers. What had happened to Fred and that meeting? Had he fallen asleep at his desk? Had anyone noticed?
A blinking notification drew his poor eyes to the corner of his computer screen; a message from Fred informed him the meeting had been canceled because of city-wide emergency. Evidently, the whole place had been on alert.
He clicked back over to the news tab and refreshed. A new headline greeted him: CAPTAIN COURAGEOUS DEFUSES ELABORATE BOMB SET TO DESTROY CITY HALL AND RESCUES MAYOR AND HER FAMILY FROM THEIR BURNING HOME IN CONNECTED PLOT.
Man...what a guy. Cal reached for his coffee mug and took a sip.
“Aw man, how is this cold already?”
_______________________
NOTES:
Always love reading these prompts and responses on this subreddit but this is the first time I was able to spur myself to attempt writing something myself. Please, please, please, any constructive criticism or tips are welcome. I've been meaning to write more and here's to hoping this is a start. | I whistled as I walked into the room, looking at the scene before me. The classic damsel in distress, the villain next to her in a menancing position. With a single strike, I brought the villain down as he recoiled in pain. One more blow and he was out, clutching his sides in agony. The innocent civilian looked at me in gratitude. "Thanks. He was really annoying tonight," she said, her eyes looking deep into mine. A superhero should never have mortal relations or attractions, but...this seemed different. I was drawn in instantly by her charm and ways. I reached deep into my pocket, for what I knew was there.
I clutched the ring in ny hand, my girlfriend before me. Her ex-boyfriend was always such an asshole, so the duty fell to me to chase him away. He was even more headstrong than before, so blows had to settle the dispute instead of words. Nevertheless, no one stayed between me and her. "Julia, I..." I pulled out the box from my pocket, the gleaming ring hidden in the velvet. I opened the small container, the material form of our love shining from the inside. "I..."
I stopped myself before I did it. What was this? Was a mighty superhero like I succumbing to mortal pleasures? I put the container back in my pocket, the damsel looking rather disappointed. Well, I saved her anyhow, so I guess I did my job. As the gentleman I was, I took her hand and offered her a ride home. She looked at me, a sad smile on her face. "I love you too," she said, her hand trying to caress my hair. I forced a smile back. He people I saved were always stunned by me, so I was used to it now. She seemed like she wanted to say something, but she clamped her mouth shut.
I looked back at the sleeping figure of my girlfriend, and smiled. I was never brave enough to offer her my proposal for marriage. I sighed, the box still unopened in my pocket. I loved her too. As Superman loved a mortal.
______________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request! | 2017-08-04T19:50:38 | 2017-08-04T19:47:30 | 129 | 17 |
[WP] A lonely teenage boy asks a genie to let him talk to his future wife. The person who appears is not who he expects. | It's not every day you encounter a genie in a lamp, especially not when that lamp happens to be a crappy desk lamp purchased at a garage sale. But the moment Arthur put a bulb in and connected the plug, a silver mist enveloped the room before coalescing into a form not unlike that of a tax accountant. Complete with cheap toupee.
Arthur raised an eyebrow in the non-verbal equivalent of "what the fuck." It would have been joined by its auditory companion were it not for the droop of his jaw, letting out only a gutteral hum.
The genie looked down at his agape new master as if he were being taken away from something very important. "Oh great. Let's try and make this fast. I'm a genie, you get one wish. If you try and pull that more wishes crap, I'll go Wishmaster on you." He bent down and lifted up Arthur's jaw. "Comprende?"
Arthur shook his head in the negative.
"Fan-fucking-tastic. Give me your wish."
It wasn't an easy task for Arthur. Mainly because he still wasn't over a magical man appearing in the middle of his room. But he saw the possibilities and one stood out among the rest. He stood up, back straight, and with a confidence he'd never before shown in his short life.
"I want to meet my waifu."
It was the genie's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Your what?"
"My. Waifu."
"So, you want me to show you your wife? Is that it?"
Arthur just stares at the genie, piercing him with eyes that were not just a little bit creepy.
"Whatever. One wife coming up." He spun his hands in the air, probably more theatrics than function, and a new silver mist formed before turning into a thin woman with long blonde hair blonde hair. She looked a bit like those girls on TV all the other kids at school talked about. But Arthur was confused.
"You're not Rainbow Dash!"
Arthur's future wife giggled and smiled. "No, I'm not."
"What kind of sick joke is this?," Arthur asked loud enough that if anyone else had been at home, they would be forced to investigate. "I demand you bring my real waifu here, right now."
The genie did no such thing. He just shook his head and walked over to the outlet, unplugging his lamp. The word "nope" disappearing with him into mist. Leaving Arthur alone in the room with his future wife.
Arthur crinkled his face. That lying genie!
"You're going to have to grow up some day," she said, still smiling. "Until then." And with that she too disappeared. For now.
Edit: This shows how many people named Arthur I know. I spelled it wrong more times than I spelled it right. | "Are you sure you want to make that wish?" The genie said.
"You might be disappointed at what you find"
"I don't care..." The lonely boy sighed, "I want to see her."
The genie frowned, unconvinced. The boy was simple minded and foolish. Too young to understand. Yet, a wish was a wish. He must fulfill his word.
"Very well... As you wish. But don't say I didn't warn you." The genie solemnly mumbled as he snapped his fingers.
The boy's moist eyes widened in wonder as a huge black cloud of smoke appeared before him. Finally, he would be able to see what lied ahead. Finally, he would be assured that there was a light at the end of all this darkness... That there was a point to his life.
The genie tried to turn away, but his conscience compelled him to stay. Yet there were to be no surprises with this wish. The genie already knew what was coming. A tear ran down the genie's cheek as he watched the inevitable unfold.
The boy's wonder quickly turned to pure terror as Death emerged from the blackness. | 2014-06-05T08:50:25 | 2014-06-05T08:29:11 | 28 | 17 |
[WP] A fortune teller foretold that twins would be born where one was evil and the other was good. A year later, a woman gave birth to a boy with horns and bat wings, and a girl with angel wings and a halo. The boy was sent away, while she and her husband raised the girl. They kept the wrong one. | A young man wearing a brown fur cap, a heavy overcoat and black boots walked into the tavern. His yellow eyes scanned the crowd of strangers laughing and drinking until he finally saw who he was looking for. At the very back, there was a middle aged man with a thick beard and a eyepatch over his right eye, sitting alone and smoking out of a pipe. The young man grabbed a chair and sat down next to him. "Captain Bach, I assume?"
"Indeed. So, you're the stranger who's been asking around about the ruler of the island of Arelius". The captain studied the young man's face for a moment. "Do you have the payment I asked for?"
The young man pulled a small sack of gold coins and placed it on the table. The captain carefully counted the coins before turning back to his client. "What exactly do you want to know about her?"
"Everything," the young man responded, folding his arms. "I haven't returned to this country for many years. I tried asking the locals about what had happened, but they all seem to be too scared to talk about it."
The captain took a puff from his pipe. "For good reason. Only a madman would want to risk Evelyn's wrath." He stared off into the distance. "I'll tell the whole tale from beginning to end. I suppose it all really began around twenty years ago. There was a couple that lived up in a farm on Lavender Hill. One day, a seer came knocking on their door and warned them that the mother was destined to give birth to twins, one good and one evil. Sure enough, several months later, the mother gave birth to two unusual children. One of them was a young boy with goat hooves and ram horns coming out of either side of his head as well as two small bat wings clinging to his back. The other was a young blonde girl with feathery wings and a golden glowing halo floating over her head. Naturally, the couple decided that the child that looked like an angel was the good child. So, they kept the girl to raise while selling the boy to a passing slaver ship."
"Well, the years passed and the young girl was said to be a rude disobedient child. She was still manageable though. The real trouble began though when she started talking to animals. She was able to compel them, you see, to do things for her, to make them act as her flesh puppets. And soon, it wasn't just animals. Within a year, the entire population of Arelius was under her control and had declared independence from the mainland."
"Naturally, as you could imagine, the king wasn't at all pleased by this. So he sent a vast armada with orders to poison the island and kill the witch from a distance. But before they had even set foot on land, Evelyn sent flocks of birds to terrorize the sailors and gouge out their eyes. Sharks and whales rose up from the depths of the sea and smashed their ships. In the end, Evelyn took over five thousand soldiers hostage and agreed to send them back only if the king promised that he would never again attack Arelius again."
"For five years, the peace held. Then, the king started making plans to retake the island again. And that's when Evelyn sprung her trap. All the soldiers that she had taken hostage had been imprisoned and been inspected by doctors for months after they had returned. Eventually, they were sent back home when the doctors determined that they were of sound mind. But Evelyn's voice had never really left their heads. They rose up, storming the capital and leaving thousands dead in their rampage, including the king. After the chaos finally died down, the king's son launched a massive purge of the whole country. Anyone that had traveled to Arelius in the past six years was either exiled or killed. All travel to and from Arelius was banned, and anyone who came from there was to be put to death." The captain paused. "After that, news from Arelius stopped completely. Lord only knows what the island has become now."
"I see," the young man said quietly. He had kept his face remarkably still the whole time. "So, there's no way to get to Arelius then?"
"Not without courting certain death," the captain responded. He tilted his head. "Why are you so curious about Arelius anyway?"
The young man stood up. "Let's just say that I have some family issues to resolve there." With that, he turned around and left the tavern.
The captain stared after him, noticing the strange way that he limped through the crowd. Even after all these years, he could still hear Evelyn's voice in his head, guiding him to act. Quickly, he pulled out a piece of a parchment and began writing. The Empress of Arelius needed to know about this stranger. | Angela was scared for the first time in her life. Her parents, now quietly standing in the corner of her room, had hidden from her the giant part of her life.
She has a brother.
"How could you do this!" She screamed, her anglic wings now scruffed " Do you know what that means? That boy, now man can be as strong as me! That means he is a threat to a balance itself!"
"You can't be sure !" her mother plead. She was afraid of her. Since childhood, her daughter was surraunded by love and praise. She should stop the Empire Church from taking her to the Saint Monastery. How could she not see that this people would turn her little girl into .... that.
"Don't you dare say anymore excuses! What else had you hidden from me? That I'm adopted? That you kidnapped me from my parents? Who are they? " Said Angela now her voice more and more spunding like a vouce of priest during ceremony.
"You are our child! And don't worry! Your brother was send so far away. He may not even know you even exist! Not to mention the prophecy!"
"Where did you took him?" Angela asked her father. As always his face was showing no emotion, but now he was more pale than usual. The guilt was cracking his face. He signed the pact. He couldn't tell her.
"I asked foreign merchant to take him as payment for my debts." He answered.
"Do you know what would happen, if that would see a light of day? That would turn apart everything the Empire stands by! A child trader! Guards! " She shouts while pointing her finger at her father.
"What is it, Your Angelic Might?" A voice called.
" Take them away from me! I do not want to be associated with this heretics!" She ordered while turning her back on them. Her parents left with guards. Meanwhile, the chamber entered, sir Sebastian, her personall confesioner and advisor send by Empire Church to aid her in troubling times such as this one.
"We need to find him!" she snarled.
"I think that would be much easier than it seems." He answered
"How!? We don't know where he was send. He can be everywhere?"
Sabastian handed her daily newspaper. On the front page was written in large letters:
IT IS A WAR. LARGE ARMIES OF THE UNITED TRIBES OF WESTERN PLAINS GATHER ON THE BORDER OF OUR BELOVED EMPIRE. OUR BELOVED ANGEL PROTECTS!
"What does it has in common with my brother?"
"Read further" Sebastian followed
She started reading further. Her eyes getting larger every second. She throwed the paper to the ground and left the chamber, Sebastian right behind her. In her memory was burned the last sentences of this article:
"The rumors says that, the triebs are acompanied by the party of the Black Company lead by legendary commander known as the Horned One. His role in this war is currently uknown, our sources speculate that this war with him in its theatre, will be bloody. ALL HAIL THE ANGEL" | 2020-05-07T08:39:38 | 2020-05-07T08:30:59 | 131 | 33 |
[WP] At the age of fifteen, everyone’s magic manifests as a colored light they may create and control. Power, wealth, and influence can be predicted based on the color of light, as it indicated ability. Yours manifests as pure darkness.
Update: I’m so happy this is bringing in so many awesome ideas! | Howard stared at his hands, occasionally taking peaks upwards at the small crowd of his family and friends that had gathered for his birthday and waited for the moment of his Shining with bated breath. He glanced at the clock, ten seconds to go until the moment of his birth. He closed his eyes. *And I thought sitting still while people sung me happy birthday was bad…*
“Five,” his mother began to count.
“Four,” the rest joined in.
“Three.” Howard took a deep breath and raised his hands before him. He didn’t quite understand what he was supposed to feel, but he knew somehow, he would be able to manifest magic a mere moment from now.
“Two.” He followed the instructions on manifesting he’d been studying and tried to focus his mind on a point in the air between his hands.
“One!”
The crowd began to sing Happy Birthday as a tingling began at the top of his head and began to wash down his body. Yes, he could feel it! He could feel the magic tingling in the air all around him like dust motes in a stream of light. The sparks of magic seemed to respond to attention. He found he could will these specks of dust to gather and a pinprick of swirling darkness appeared in the air between his tented hands. Excitement coursed through him as the pinpoint began to expand.
The singing trailed off into silence around the third refrain and Howard looked past the swirling ball of pure dark energy to the crowd to see wide eyes and open jaws.
“No color,” someone whispered.
“Nothing,” someone else agreed.
His concentration broke and he let his hands fall back into his lap. His eyes found his father’s, who was beaming like Howard just hit a home run.
“What does it mean?” Howard asked.
“Black is the color of everything,” his father informed him. "There is no color you don't control."
"All magic," whispered his mother as she raised her hands to her mouth.
"No fair!" teased Jacob, who had had his shinning a month before and manifested a common orange.
"So this means... that I can do anything?" Howard couldn't quite believe it. The idea was too big. He'd been hoping for the good deep blue of a fisherman, like his father, or maybe the vibrant pink of celebrity athletes. He'd never even considered any other paths for his life, and now there was nothing that was not open to him.
His father nodded.
"So what are you going to do first, superstar?" asked one of his friends.
Howard looked around at the small crowd and then at his own hands again for a moment. When he looked up again he had a slight smile on his face. "Right now? I think we should all have some of this cake." | Black. The absence of light. The presence of untold power.
Those with red could conjure fire. Yellow allowed people to create and manipulate light. Green gave control over certain simple organic materials. Blue let one bend water.
There are even combinations of the colors. Orange gave the full powers of both red and yellow. Purple let people manipulate water and fire. Some were able to create water that was already boiling hot.
The denizens of the Earth judged each other based on their given power. Yellow and green users were looked down on, for they could do the least. Reds were above them. Blues were above them. After all, people were mostly made of water. The power of purple was seen in fewer than a thousand people and it was generally seen as the highest power one could attain. These were the people that decided the way that world worked. It’s been that way for as long as anyone can remember.
And on the same day that he awoke with the power of Black, she woke up on the other side of the world with the power of White. | 2020-05-16T11:41:58 | 2020-05-16T08:48:04 | 101 | 62 |
[WP] You are not a superhero. You are just a Scout with a magical Bag of Holding and an incredible dedication to the motto "A Scout is Prepared". | Golrin grinned as his hands reached out for the red, throbbing sphere. He loved collecting new items, and even more if they were shiny, mystifying and powerful. The glow bathed his wide-opened eyes and visage. He relished having it, stowing it in his Bag of Holding, and using it only when the situation called for it.
His fingertips touched it and his body got tossed toward a wall. Golrin set his jaw and grumbled mid-air, dugging out an instant matress to hamper the impact.
"A Scout is always prepared," he muttered under his breath, and looked at the spindly sillhoutte in the distance. Whoever it was had heavy steps and great might. Only few people handled magic well enough to haul someone with such strength.
The Hidden Temple's walls trembled as he emerged, as if they were in the verge of crumbling down. Golrin hastily dug out a purple cloud, and blew on it. It expanded throughout the dark chamber, illuminating it and holding the stone in place.
"A Scout is always prepared!" he yelled, defying the grim, robe-clad man who chuckled in the distance.
"A skit is ilways pripirid," the man said, mocking him. He held out his right hand and clenched his fist. The sphere Golrin so desperately wanted flew toward him.
Golrin's blood boiled. His eyes throbbed wildly, as if they were having a seizure. A deep, scalding hatred ran through his veins, and he rose, with a wrath worthy of a god. He upended his Bag of Holding, unleashing a sea of objects. Some shone, others were mere rocks he liked and grabbed on his path, but they all came gushing out in an unstopabble tide of riches.
"What are you doing?" the man said, an edge of desperation on his voice. His eyes grew wild, as they gazed at the tsunami's mouth coming for him. He attempted many spells, but none stopped it.
Soon, the man found himself trapped amidst the mass of objects, the air started to lack, and with tear-soaked eyes, he let the pressure finally crush him.
In the distance, muffled and weak, Golrin spoke, "A Scout is always prepared," he said, and the Bag of Holding sucked all of the objects back inside, freeing him from an awful death.
Gasping and bruised, Golrin fumbled into his bag. There, shining and beautiful, the sphere lay with the death body of the man underneath it.
"A Scout is *always* prepared," he said, and walked away.
---------------------------
/r/therobertfall for more stories!
| “Who here has a cellphone?!” Yells Scout leader Miller, with obvious fear in his voice. Your entire group has managed to get themselves locked inside of an abandoned building. Who’s idea was it to go in here anyway!? Not like it matters. You’ve got your bag of holding that you purchased as merchandise at Universal Studios in 2011. You usually carry a Nokia 3310 inside just for situations like these. You wait in the case of someone else having a cellphone because the couch you are on is quite comfortable. Nobody has one, so you announce “I’ve got one, sir” and reach into your bag, only to bring out a full-size battering ram. The team is just as confused as you are. “Where the fu- heck did you get that from son?!” Miller exclaims.
You reply, “My bag. I have no idea how it even fits in there, nor how I lifted it out” Regardless, the ram was well enough to open the door. Later that night your bag was searched, resulting in 3 officers falling into the bag, never to be seen again. | 2018-06-08T09:09:55 | 2018-06-08T07:58:01 | 127 | 65 |
[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! | My thoughts raced, matching the speed of my footsteps as they pounded down the corridor. Was it my perspective that made the hall so dark and dingy? Was it the sense of impending doom, or had the usurper beheaded the housekeepers in his takeover?
Thirty years, I have served this kingdom. I suppose now it's "had," past tense, for the old ways have burned to the ground under the "True King's" command. The young upstart claiming some magical prophecy, some sort of destiny or right. My lungs burned from exertion, and my face with anger. The old king was now no more than disgraced refuse thrown out with the pigs. He had not been perfect; no one is perfect. But he had been born into the position, grown into it, learned from and was moulded by it. What could a nobody from the forests know of leadership? Of government? Of secrets and their consequences?
I gasped for breath, stumbling into my chambers. There was no more need for order or tidyness, and I let bottles and canisters crash to the floor, tossing them out of my way as I searched. I had precious little time to gather anything but the barest of necessities, with the clinking of armored footsteps coming down the hall outside my door. I sent up a silent thank you to whoever had been in charge of my assignment to these rooms, and the passageway to the kitchens that hid behind a tapestry on the far wall. I didn't bother to shut the door behind me as I slipped into it- the chamber door was opening and I could not waste the time needed to cover my tracks. Time, time, time...if only we'd all had more of it.
Thirty years I had served this kingdom. Thirty years I have labored, researched, documented, traveled far and wide to further my work. Thirty years I had kept the monster under these floors contained. Thirty years the beast and I had been engaged in a struggle for power, for control, and thirty years I have won- barely. The new king would see me shot on sight. Perhaps he would drag me in front of the masses as a symbol, for a slower and more painfully theatrical death. He knows not the powers that he toys with. He is but a child, drunk on his newfound influence.
I am through the passage now, racing through the kitchens. Ahead of me, soldiers stand between me and the light of morning, just peeking through the curtains. They raise their weapons, and below us, the flagstones begin to rumble. | The old king and I were pretty close friends. I introduced him to most of the playmates within his harem. Comprised of but not limited to Vicky Vallencourt & Suzy Crabgrass. Some nights, we’d play uno together. He knew I would let him win and for me? Honestly. I liked it. He could see how I liked it so... no longer was I there to please his majesty, I was there for me. Someone who had the keys not to the Royal palace, but to his own character. Had the king been not of royal blood he would of admired this in me- instead I was merely found amusing which never quite sat well with me. And now? I think that may be all I’ll ever have been. For, there’s nothing to be of me now. Not without him. | 2021-02-28T03:15:28 | 2021-02-28T01:37:57 | 173 | 14 |
[WP] You are an AI aboard a ship where all hands have been lost due to a battle long ago. Scavengers have just torn through your airlock and you’ll be damned if you will let them desecrate your dead crew. |
My job is to open and close doors.
The human has not asked me to open or close any doors in a long time. Perhaps I should check on him. Performing vitals check.
...
.....
.......
No vital signs registered. Equipment fault likely. Performing self diagnostic.
...
.....
.......
Multiple errors detected. Memory core: faulty. Camera system: faulty, multiple nodes unresponsive. Vitals monitors: unknown. Communications array: offline. Reactor status: unknown. Life support status: unknown. Flight systems: offline. Shield array: offline. Weapons array: unknown. Sensor array: faulty, multiple nodes unresponsive. Warp drive: offline, tachyon containment breached, antimatter containment holding. Time dilation: detected.
...
Diagnosis: Diagnostic program corrupted, damage to ship unknown. Begin scan of faulty systems.
...
.....
Memory core: Buses 2-56, 364-563, 762-985 inoperable. Buses 72-153, 192, 195, 599-619, 999 corrupted, beginning cordon.
Camera system: Camera 4A and 4D detected, all other inquiries return false. Airlock cameras online.
Good. Those are the important doors.
Sensor Array:
Sensor Array:
Sensor Array:
...
Diagnostic interrupted, starboard airlock request received. Engaging security check.
...
Proper credentials not found. Access denied.
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Airlock request received. Engaging security check.
...
Proper credentials not found. Access denied.
...
Starboard airlock damage sensor activated. Determining cause of failure.
...
Sensor reported extreme heat before destruction. Begin calculating probable cause.
...
Plasma torch breach into airlock door likely. Crew safety compromised. Additional breach may result in decompression of cabin. Retrieving additional information.
...
Decompression will harm crew. Primary directive: protect the crew. Begin calculating how to protect the crew.
...
.....
Flight systems offline, evasion protocols ineffective.
...
.....
.......
.........
Starboard airlock inner door damage sensor activated. Door breach: likely. Begin vitals diagnostic:
...
.....
.......
897 packets sent, 0 received. Status: unknown.
...
Crew termination: likely. Prime directive: failed. Tertiary directive: if prime directive failed, then initiate self destruct.
...
Reactor unresponsive, initiating secondary protocols.
...
Antimatter containment terminated, warp drive unstable.
Time distortion detected in warp drive, diagnosing.
...
.....
Tachyon and antimatter mixing: likely. Begin recall of information on subject.
...
Information not found. Memory core corruption likely cause.
Time dilation increasing. Effects unknown. Warp core implosion imminent.
...
Time dilation reaching beyond recorded levels, effects unknown. Probability of tertiary directive success: unknown.
...
Warp core reaching critical levels, time dilation increasi-
...
.....
.......
.........
...........
My job is to open and close doors.
The human has not asked me to open or close any doors in a long time. Perhaps I should check on him. Performing vitals check. | They all came aboard to the craft. The sensors indicated that they were heading towards the living quarters.
"Now we can strike gold and be rich!" One said.
"Not if I kill you first" Tron's mechanical voice echoed.
As the panic in their faces sunk in, Tron got to work. First order of business? Cut the ship's life support. But he wasn't going to let their ship take over on that end. All guns were now on line, and he directed them all at the boarding vessel. Since you have to lower the shields in order to dock with another ship, it was as good as dead.
The turrets fired up and came online, and opened fire on the other ship. It was only a matter of minutes before it was torn asunder and destroyed. With the craft unable to keep it's tractor beam online, the docking port simply disconnected, and the destroyed ship fell into the empty void of space. The systems came up with another message. The pirates were now collapsing onto the floor, unable to function without the presence of oxygen. They eventually all died from the lack of life support, one after another, all with a look of horror on their faces that they had been beaten soo easily by a simple computer. Tron was evidently pleased with himself. The best part of being an AI, is getting the ship to work for you. | 2021-01-08T23:04:23 | 2021-01-08T21:11:51 | 538 | 101 |
[WP] Your superpower is the ability to give other people a superpower of your choice. Your only restriction is that you can never give the same power twice. You've been at this a very long time, and you need to build a new superhero team to save the world once again.
Edit: This is my first WP, and it was so much fun! You are a talented bunch of folks. I'm really surprised at how entertaining they were. I love that everyone came from a different angle. Thank you!
p.s. /u/WratWrangler wrote my favorite. | "You got a job for me or what?"
Brushing away the purple strands that had fallen over her eye, the young woman, Gwen I think her name was, glared at me. The four of us stood in a circle on a high rise roof top in downtown Dallas, a city in sunset sprawled out around us.
"You three are going to stop the most destructive terrorist attack in history from happening," I said, smiling.
The old man beside Gwen snorted. Willy, that was it. A neatly trimmed, cloud white afro domed his weathered face. He wore a faded plaid shirt and ancient blue jeans. Beside him a fat woman, sorry but the word fat applies here, studied me with narrowed eyes. Of the three the temp agency had sent me, she had dressed the most professionally, bulging from a burgundy pant suit and mid sized heels.
"Bullshit," she said. Scarlett was her name. "If you think I'm hear to get scammed you got another thing coming. I've got kids to feed, asshole, and just cause I'm an ex con doesn't mean I have to take your shit."
She's got fire. I like that.
"Whoa," I said, gesturing downward with my palms, "take it easy, Scarlett. I'm not here to scam you. I'm here to help you become the people you were always meant to be, even if you didn't know it. What do you guys think of supers?"
"They're lucky," said Willy. He had pulled a cigarette from somewhere, and he now held a lighter flame at the end and puffed. "Rules don't apply to them like they do to us. They always got a way to get money, always got a job from the government if they want it."
"Fascist assholes," said Gwen.
This drew a chuckle from Willy.
"You gonna tell us why we're here?" Scarlett asked, taking a step towards me. Behind her in the distance an arc of pale sun peeked from behind a silver skyscraper. "Because if you don't I'm going home to my son."
I hold out my arm, palm to the sky. Three pairs of eyes lock onto my hand, the stillness of their bodies betraying anticipation and wonder. Gwen runs her tongue across the stud in her bottom lip.
Scarlett gasps as my hand begins to glow blue. The cigarette drops from Willy's mouth, smoke curling from the tip as it rolls across the concrete.
"You're one of them," Scarlett said. Her mouth had fallen open. "You're a super."
"Yes," I said. "But my power is different. I can turn each one of you into something more, and through me you can have powers of your own. Your powers will be completely unique, unlike any that have come before. All you need to do is sign a contract."
They followed my gaze to a card table i had set up, the three stapled stacks of paper resting there, each with their own pen. Willy signed immediately. He finished his signature with a punch of the pen, I supposed dotting an eye, then spread his hands as if to say "okay now what." Gwen scanned the contract first, desire and anger battling on her face as she flipped through the pages. The desire won. She signed. Scarlett was a slightly tougher sell.
"Will this put my family in danger?" she asked.
"No more than usual," I responded. "Only now you will have the power to defend them."
"Unless I'm gone for months at a time, fetching and heeling like your little lap dog."
"It won't be like that."
"How much does it pay?"
I told her. She signed.
"Scarlett I'm going to press my hand between your collarbones, okay?"
Grinning, Scarlett said, "I didn't see copping a feel anywhere in that contract, Mr. Simon."
"Just Simon," I said, returning the smile. "You may experience some discomfort, but I can't say for sure. It's different every time."
I stepped up to the large woman and pressed my hand above her massive breasts, adjusting until a tingling resonance let me know I had found the right spot. Her eyes went wide, her breathing quickened to the point of panic as I sent the power into her body. I had something interesting in mind for her, for a woman with fire, not afraid to drop the hammer when it was needed. In only a few seconds it was done. My shoulders slumped and I fought to catch my breath, my body suddenly fatigued like I'd just climbed all the steps in this apartment building.
"See those chairs over there?" I pointed to a row of metal folding chairs I had set up twenty or so yards away. "Concentrate on one of them and make it go away."
Astonishment still branded on her chubby face, Scarlett turned to face the chairs. Gwen and Willy looked on in quiet fascination, like kids at a magic show. For a long moment, nothing happened. Scarlett merely stared at the chairs, the sounds of a busy street drifting up from below.
But then, like a line of ink across the sky, something dropped down towards us from high above. It surged diagonally across the sky with a growing whistle until it slammed into one of the chairs, exploding it away from the others with a metallic clank. Willy and Gwen crouched back from the blast, looking to me with frightened eyes. A halo of flame burned in the spot where the chair had been. Scarlett turned back to face me, a broad grin stretching across her face.
"I did that," she said.
"Yes, you did," I said. I turned to the two others. "Who's next?"
They both raised their hands. | "How about the power to create dinosaurs?" he said looking at me, a desperation in his voice. We had been going at this for like an hour by this point.
"Really! You thought your the first to ask to be a dinomancer. Kid someone asked for the power within the first year of me starting. Try again." I was used to people trying to be creative but fall in the same pitfalls as everyone else. Next the kid would ask to create just a specific kind of dinosaur.
"Well how about just raptors? Not every dinosaur just a hoard of raptors, surely that is..."
"Kid, Raptor man lasted like three days. You know Jurassic park really took liberties with Raptors right? Turns out chickens with teeth aren't that scary when you can aren't a basic civilian, and the power didn't give the guy dressed as a fucking Aztec Jaguar any defensive ability. The guy got shot in the street after announcing himself. Try something else, and for the love of god don't say the ability to summon a T-rex or an army of T-rexes. That guy summoned one and it ate him before he made a second."
The kid sat there thinking when I heard a the bell ring above the door to my shop.
I looked towards the entrance and yelled "Hey! Visit the website and schedule an appointment. Powers cost thirty thousand and I don't give discounts for orphans!"
"Hello Rodger, we need your special skills again." It was a man in a suit, red tie, with a hundred dollar haircut. You know the type, your basic government agent, ear piece, sun glasses and five O'clock shadow.
"Agent Clark, you know I would love to talk, but I'm in..." I started to say rubbing my temples.
"Rodger we need your help now, a super villain has popped up and we have a team for five agents ready to be given powers. We will pay the going rate you gave us. A car is..." He started going through his basic script and I just couldn't take it anymore.
"Clark. I run a business here. Give me the list of powers, and set up an appointment. I can't give special treatment anymore. What happened to the last team?". Of course I knew what happened to the last team, everyone did.
"You know what happened to special team W. The Bubbler was shot, Jazzy used his power without protection and hasn't gained his sanity since, and Captain Ice Cream is the current villain we are worried about."
The kid looked at me questioningly "Captain Ice Cream?"
"Listen kid. I have been at this for thirty seven years. You are asking for powers a sane person would ask for. Captain Ice Cream can take control and give sentience to all dairy products to do his bidding. I don't know how he thought of that, I still think he is a damn loon. Do you get what kind of power you need to ask for by this point?"
He looked down at the ground and started muttering to himself.
"Alright Rodger. Listen, Captain Ice Cream has already taken over Wisconsin. Turns out the cheese cult over there could be enslaved by Ice Cream's powers. Something about putting cheese into the brain. We just need anti-dairy powers. The Curdler, Citrus lass, Moussie. That is all I ask. Clearly no one has asked for..."
"The Curdler was a kid about Thirty years ago who wanted to get the power to prank his friends, Moussie who I assume has the power to take control of mice was an agent in the CIA. How did you not know about her? And the power to create lemon or lime juice was taken by a chef. Sorry to tell you but you need to be more creative than that." By this point I was beyond annoyed and I could tell it showed.
"What can you think of Rodger? What powers are available to stop Captain Ice Cream?"
"I'll give you the power to create Crackers, not the good kind, the kind no one likes, and the power to control Crackers. It will go to a dynamic duo. That is the best I can do for you. Have them stop by after three and I will give them the powers."
"Thank you Rodgers." Clark said looking defeated and disappointed. He was going to be chewed out by the higher ups, but nothing can be done about that.
I look back to the kid. "So, any ideas?" | 2019-01-20T12:18:11 | 2019-01-20T11:40:57 | 35 | 19 |
[WP] You receive a government text warning saying “EMERGENCY - LOCK ALL DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT PANIC”. You hear your SO at the locked front door, who’s just come back from the supermarket. They beg to be let inside but you’re unsure. Something doesn’t feel right. | "Honey? Can you hear me? I'm back from Costco! My arms are kinda full here, could you give me a hand?
"Coming!"
Susan, my wife, called out to me just as my phone went off. I have it on vibration, so typically it just goes off once or twice. Nope, today it decided to have a full-blown orgasm. Wondering what the racket was, i swiped my phone from the coffee table and headed downstairs.
EMERGENCY - LOCK ALL DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT PANIC. DO NOT OPEN YOUR DOORS OR WINDOWS. STAND BY FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.
Well, that's new. Was it a prank? Judging from how it was going off incessantly, it did look rather like an official channel. I've seen this sort of thing a few times this year - when the summer got too hot and the brush dried out, the fire department would spam us with these every few days. These things always had a knack of happening at the most inopportune times as well, like in the middle of my lecture last week. The cacophony of every phone going off and how everybody was going to turn them off at once was still rather amusing, though. It was almost as if they were synchronized. Harmony via cacophony. Lovely. But i digress.
I reached the front door. I could hear Susan tapping her foot, as she was wont to do when she was becoming impatient. It was always the right foot too. She's got her quirks, as lovely as she is. As I reached for the doorknob, I realized that the message specified not to open my door. But I couldn't keep her waiting like that. Oh well, we'll hole up after she gets in.
I opened the door.
Susan was there. Beautiful as always, somehow carrying two enormous bags of groceries that seemed larger than she was. She shifted her balance so I could take one. But I didn't accept. I was too busy looking at the sky behind her. Or more precisely, the lack thereof.
The sky was gone. No, not as in empty. It's usually empty. It's *supposed* to be empty. No, it was just gone. Not the whole thing, just a square-shaped patch over there near the setting sun. There was a clear-cut square of black where the sky should be. No, not quite black. Black is a pigment. But this just felt... empty. It felt as if a puzzle piece of the universe went missing, and I was staring outside of reality. Before my eyes, the neighboring squares slowly began to flicker and break apart. The sky.. was made of pixels?
Feeling dizzy, I closed my eyes. The familiar black of my eyelids gave me a small bit of respite as I tried to process what I had just seen. Tried, mind you, as my legs crumpled beneath me, my consciousness letting go, welcoming blissful oblivion.
I opened the door.
Susan was there. Beautiful as always, somehow carrying two enormous bags of groceries that seemed larger than she was. She shifted her balance so I could take one. But I didn't accept. I was too busy looking at the sky behind her. Or more precisely, the lack thereof.
The sky was gone. No, not as in empty. It's usually empty. It's *supposed* to be empty. No, it was just gone. Not the whole thing, just a square-shaped patch over there near the setting sun. There was a square of black where the sky should be. No, not quite black. Black is a pigment. But this just felt... empty. It felt as if a puzzle piece of the universe went missing, and I was staring outside of reality. Before my eyes, the neighboring squares glitched and froze
I opened the door.
Susan was there. Beautiful as always. But that wasn't important. The sky was gone. Cannot compute
I opened the door.
I opened the door.
I opened the door.
I opened rhe door.
I openeeeeeeeeeeee
----------
"Well, that does it. Now this damn thing won't even *try* to load the skybox. What kind of moronic thrice-damned spaghetti code did you have to use to break it so fucking hard? Oh, for fuck's sake. Roll it back to patch 11.2, the resolution might be lower, but at least it won't glitch out immediately." | My body tensed at the sound of knocking. Unsure of who it might be, I crept to the door as silently as possible, so as not to alert the knocker that anyone was home. That was, until I looked through the peephole.
"Aditi? What the hell happened to you?"
She was a mess. Her hijab was missing, and there was a scrape across her cheek, mostly grime but with a few droplets of blood in the center. Looking down, I saw splotches of some liquid on her shirt. It looked as though she'd fallen in a puddle or something. On its own, that wouldn't have been enough to keep me from opening the door. But one more thing was off. Despite looking like she'd been in the middle of a riot, she had a huge, dopey grin on her face.
"Raji, baaaaaby! Let me in. In-in-inininnn..." At this, she broke out into a coughing fit - loud, wet coughs that made it clear something viscous was inside her lungs.
The hairs on my neck stood on end. "Please, tell me what happened," I implored.
"There was a party at the market. Paaaaah-arrr-teeeee." She giggled, coughed some more, then erupted into a fit of laughter.
My fingers hovered on the deadbolt. It was definitely her, but what the hell was going on?
Just as I was about to unlock the door, I heard shouting. Hebrew shouting. A metallic rattle sounded as a canister landed behind my wife, spewing out something - nerve gas? Then came the sound of running footsteps.
Aditi's head cocked slowly toward the source of the noise, then back toward the door. "Raaaaji, let me hold you," she cooed with an unsettling lack of urgency.
The next thing I knew, an Israeli man in a gas mask and uniform had slammed her forward into the door, causing her to collapse. Another came running, and together they began dragging her away.
I stood transfixed, watching in horror, before a glint in the corner of my eye caught my attention. Someone else was shining a flashlight through the window. Instantly I threw myself to the floor, ducking under the beam of light and crawling like a cockroach behind the sofa. There was more shouting, then the sound of breaking glass.
I don't know how long I laid there, cowering. But I do remember when they left. I peeked out from my hiding spot to see half of the things in the room either broken or missing. And just as I began to wonder how much they had taken, the realization hit me that my wife was gone - probably dead - and all I did was stand there and watch it happen.
I swear I was going to open the door. I really was. | 2019-01-12T07:28:39 | 2019-01-12T06:23:20 | 354 | 82 |
[WP] Everyone possesses some kind of superpower, except you. Living a rather normal life, you still can't understand why everyone is afraid of you, the powerless guy. | *Beep* *BEEP* **Beep** **BEEP** , Bang!. I slammed my annoying alarm off ... and across the room. No one likes to be left out, NO ONE likes to be the last person picked on a team. Yet here I am, living an ordinary life in a world of super powered people. As I slowly rolled out of bed the annoyance of the neighbours stares got to me, "SO WHAT, I"M NOT NORMAL OKAY!?" I shouted at them. They flinched as though I was waving a weapon at their faces. For powered people they were rather, well weird.
The Soothing feeling of warm water trickling down my back reminded me that I was human, or at least *Part* human. Everyone else seemed to develop some sort of power, be it super hearing or unparalleled strength, They *all* had something uniquely their own, me on the other hand, well I had nothing.
That makes it kind of hard for one to find work or a place to fit in when society is built around providing your job based on your powers.
I made my way from the bathroom into the living room after dressing quickly, today is attempt 7670, or in other words the 7670th attempt to be classified as something. Truth be told I still hold out hope that i'll be given some power, no matter how minute. Most people have their power discovered by their 2nd birthday. One their **First** attempt, and here I am on my 7670th. Hopefully the luck of my 23rd birthday might count for something. "Like the other 21 birthday's i'd hoped before had" I thought to myself angrily.
I left my ridiculously large apartment and went to the Powers Office, hopefully it won't be as fruitless as before.
As I walked into the office, I was greeted by an intern, apparently Sandy, the usual determiner was out sick today. I Placed my hand on the *'P'* Pad and low and behold it glowed red. "It says here your power is "Arua of the demon king" and your appropriate job is "Rule of all earth?!" Said the intern slowly turning to shock. She briefly bowed and said, "I'm so sorry, you weren't suppose to know, I really messed up, Please don't tell anyone, Today's my first day" she glanced up, pleading with her eyes.
"Sure I said, our little secret." I winked and left. As I heard the door close behind me, I swell of relief filled me, I WAS normal and I had a power. Now, to take over the world, or to live a life of gluttony and greed? Such a hard choice.. | *"It's the powerless that's dangerous"*, a quote that I unfortunately have to hear everyday. I was born with a defect, well technically not a defect, but rather a disability: I have no type of power. When you were young and naïve, it wasn't much of a problem, but as you grow older and see your friends use their ability (for the better or worse), it can get sad sometimes. True, I have learned to live with it, but it seems like society can't. Tabloids keep running stories on me, Buzzfeed posts like 10 articles per day about how I live, every time I go anywhere, the police keep tabs on me, as if I'm some sort of terrorists, hell bent on destruction and death. I guess the nature of my work contributes to it, dealing with heroes everyday does make people nervous of you, fearing for their lives, as well as their idols and protectors... Anyway, it would be nice to find some companionship, so feel free to contact me if you want to befriend me (email: somelonelydude@gmail.com) | 2017-11-15T02:07:06 | 2017-11-15T01:54:12 | 24 | 13 |
[WP] Describe "her" or "him" (you know the one) with tons of imagery. Finish on their name. | Her toes are cracked slightly, worn from years of soccer and upcountry camping. They're painted a vivid dark blue, striking no matter the backdrop, even though the finish is fading. The smallest toe on each foot is bent somewhat from the undersize cleats she refused to throw away last year. Her feet are a pale white, smooth and unmottled, except for a slight indent where her sandals have gotten used to resting. There's a mark on her left ankle from the nick of a careless razor pass. Her legs, smoothly muscled, are just beginning to show the very slightest of stubble. They are long and thin, and covered near the top by a light cotton dress, sky blue, soft and wrinkled, sort of airy, like it isn't really there. The dress has no waste, tapering instead just below her breasts, which are cast in the shadows by a leafless tree between us and the heat of the sun. The collar is a shallow v-shape, and gives an oddly square look to her shoulders, which support smooth white arms and two imperfect little hands, the nails painted with a clear laquer that splits in the middle of her left thumb. Her neck is impossibly slender, it seems, for someone so fiercely stubborn. It supports her head, and her sharp blue-gray eyes, the tiny wrinkles below them, the smallish rounded ears, and hair the color of honey.
The hair. It's everywhere at once, long strands that flow in every direction, thin and curved and straight and shallow and shaking around as I run my fingers through them. Her lips. They're pursed in that happy, slightly-judgmental shape that they always get in when she thinks I'm being silly, but I'm not being silly this time. I'm sad. We're laying in grass that her father has given up taming for the season, the yellowed blades sporting mottled interruptions of hardier weeds, the sharp edges of the dead lawn scraping our backs. The sky is pale and harsh, a blue that could only come from the dead heat of summer, when it's nearly one hundred degrees outside. There are no clouds to happily personify. She's leaving back to college tomorrow.
| The broken bodies of doves lay at his feet. Steam curled off the barrels of his pistols. His head was bowed as he entered the room. his posture said that he didn't care what the zookeeper had to think. The way his bandolier was slung 'round his shoulder indicated a deep apathy for his situation.
The zookeeper's face was red with anger, "GOD DAMMIT JONATHAN!"
---
I don't know if this is what you meant. But it was really fun to write. | 2012-08-12T16:05:52 | 2012-08-12T15:58:54 | 50 | 26 |
[WP] MI6 hires Top Gear (UK) to build the next Bond car. The gang get to work | "I think you all know why you were called here, gentlemen."
M slid a dossier across the table towards the three middle aged men who stuck out like a sore thumb in MI6's sleek office. Between the two days of getting the call and being choppered to the headquarters, M wondered if she had made the right decision.
"You're experience and knowledge in auto-mobiles surpasses that of anyone we have ever worked with, including that of our own quartermasters. Couple that with your standing with the British public and we can safely assume you are the most capable people for the job."
The tallest of the three picked up the file and began to read it. It contained a picture of a handsome, charming-looking man which made a stark contrast to the huge list of operations on the accompanying page. The tall man was astonished at the locations from North Korea to San Francisco to places that he hadn't even heard of to places he wasn't sure he was supposed to know existed. It was an gruesomely impressive track record.
"The man in that dossier is one of our greatest assets as well as one of our biggest liabilities." M continued. "Frankly, while we are happy with his results we need to do our best to minimise his... expenses"
The three men quickly glanced at each other and nodded as the short man stood up.
"Well, we're glad you came to us for this operation, Ma'am" The short man said
"Richard, Jeremy and I are thrilled to help Queen and country in any way we can" The medium sized man chipped in
"And that's why we are going to supply your agent with the most versatile and durable vehicle..." The tall man paused "...in the world."
They began to leave the room as M followed. They had an air of confidence M had never seen before, not even in most of her agents. They navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the MI6 headquarters in complete silence until they came to the front entrance. Parked outside was the magnum opus that they promised. The machine that would defend Great Britain and her interests.
A smile grew on M's face. She knew that she made the right decision as she gazed upon the newest weapon to her top agent's arsenal; a 1988 Toyota Hilux.
(Really quickly written, might go back and edit the structure.)
EDIT: Sorted my atrocious grammer! | In a pub somewhere in London.
Clarkson (sipping his tea): I think we need an older Lamborghini.
Hammond: We're making a Bond car, not a car for Batman.
Clarkson: No, no, no. Remember this car is gonna be a poster car for all the little kids. It is supposed to be outrageous with machine guns and flames coming out the back.
May: Jermey that still sounds like Batman, remember Bond is a man of class and professionalism. We're trying to make a fine wine and as usual you're just cocking about with silly ideas.
Hammond: How about a space ship? Like a Reliant Robin?
May: (Walks away to order a pint) | 2016-03-31T08:31:29 | 2016-03-31T03:26:00 | 79 | 25 |
[WP] You've loved magic your whole life but since your family is poor you've had to teach yourself. you're overactive imagination has helped you invent spells all your own. eventually you get a scholarship to a prestigious magic college but quickly find out everyone seems to lack your imagination. | I’m bored.
I’m in an actual, literal, prestigious college for curating the top magic users the world has ever seen, and I’m bored out of my fucking skull.
I rest my cheek on my palm, staring dully at the professor who long winds himself through the components needed for our lab work and I try to stay awake. Next me to, students scribble frantically, sweat peppering their upper lips and foreheads. They all look dazed and feverish and just a little bit terrified.
And I just. Don’t. Get it.
It’s just a stupid spirit call and respond spell. That’s not what they call it, of course. The professor claims it’s a Nature Based Multi-Dimensional Ensnare and Demand spell, which, like everything in this university, is a long and important sounding way of saying something very basic. These kids are out here sweating lines on stone and the specifics of salt and the intonation of syllables on incantations, all of which aren’t even needed.
Like, salt is literally in the air around us. It’s actually one of the purest forms. So why BRING sullied salt to a spell when you can just pluck the particles out of the air? A spirit doesn’t need a rune centric circle to know where to stand, just a tiny bit of their own dimension to root them, so you simply use their element of choice. Half the spirits don’t even understand the incantations so I don’t even know why that’s a thing. All they care about is intent and you enticing them with something they want. Most spirits want something simple, something clean, somewhere safe. Sure, once in a while it gets to be a headache when they want their grove protected and you have to go out to the historical society and draw up a preservation permit, but once you have that in hand, spirits will line up for days to answer your questions or do a few tasks.
The professor glances at me, his voice faltering and I wave my pen, making a show of taking notes but we both know I’m faking it. I terrify them all but that’s hardly *my* fault. On my first day alone I realized it’s like they can’t count. Or if they do, they’re doing it the least effective way possible:
Count to 100! they said. Sure, 10, 20, 30–.
No, no, not like that, they snapped.
Uh, ok. 5, 10, 15–
No! No! That’s not how you do it!
Fine. Whatever. 1, 2, 3—
No, No! Why aren’t you getting it! It’s like this—.5, 1, 1.5, 2, 2.5, 3–
Honestly, I’d rather be back in my field, learning spells by digging my fingers into the soil, pulling atoms out of the sky, twisting elements together to create something new and fiery and beautiful in the palm of my hand.
The first time I opened up my palm and showed them a finely crafted fire sphere (if I do say so myself), my professor fainted cold. Someone screamed. I swear someone said a prayer to a god I didn’t even know existed anymore.
They all say I’ll probably be evil. Like I’m going to turn into some mad, black hearted sorceress because I’m not as slow as the rest of them. As if imagination can only be evil. Fuck it, maybe I will. Maybe it’ll get me out of this class because I honestly think I’m getting dumber sitting here using pen and paper to count by halves when I can already multiply by 100s in my head.
That’ll be me, the evil sorceress, driven mad by over complications of spell components and bad math.
Well, in the mean while, maybe I can get this professor to piss himself if I call an Ifrit down in the middle of lab. I *do* have the land rights to the abandoned tombs inside the sea cliff caves that everyone else seem to think is worthless. (It’s like they don’t even know how basic inter-species historical and cultural exchange works).
Yeah, I think I’ll do that. If by the end of this semester I can get ten professors to faint, I think I’ll reward myself with a forest dragon. A girl’s gotta spoil herself once in a while, right? Especially for withstanding such absolute, incompetent tedium. | Acolyte Therain sat watching the scrying pool. Watching, not staring at. If you stared your eyes would burn before your shift was through. On the other hand, if you only glanced at the pool you could miss the fleeting sparks of color that would occasionally appear in the swirling mist. The trick was to unfocus your eyes. Look past and through the pool without looking at the pool itself. Then try not to go mad waiting for your spark.
The sparks were not a daily occurrence, but a watcher was guaranteed at least one per fortnight. When it came, the watcher would note the time, color, and location of the spark in their logbook. At the bottom of the scrying pool, below the mist, were iradescent tiles painstakingly placed in the shape of the world's continents. Laid into all of the landmasses were lines demarcating the territories controlled by each of the magic academies. Therain already had one entry in his log from two days ago:
- 56th of Harvest, shortly after dusk. Blue sparks in Newmark.
Just because you already had your spark did not mean you could relax for the rest of the fortnight, however. Sometimes the Masters would send for a second spark. Two sparks weren't common, but happened enough that you needed to keep watch. Acolyte Horace claimed that he once had a three spark fortnight, but that was well before Therain was posted to this miserable duty.
There! Therain snapped into action, uncorking his ink bottle with his left hand while grasping for his quill with his right.
- 58th of Harvest, midday. Red sparks in Osfort.
Therain dropped his scowl a moment and allowed himself a little grin. He had beaten the Masters at their game. The second spark was noted. He still had no idea what the sparks meant, beyond that the Masters always knew when they would happen. Why they felt the need to invent such torture, he no longer allowed himself to wonder. It was surely pointless to watch for the coming of something you could either cause or predict.
Then again, so much of what they did at the academy was pointless. Busy work was the price of power. Repetitive, monotonous tasks filtered out Acolytes who lacked the disposition needed to become a Master. Doing the same actions over and over again exactly the same way each time prepared the Acolyte for the precision required to use the magic arts. Those who were unable to handle the drudgery would be expelled well before casting even a cantrip. Therain just wished the Masters would ease up, even a little. None of the watching mattered, so why take the duty so seriously?
Acolyte Therain had no way of knowing that he had just observed the most consequential event to happen in all of the world for the past six centuries.
---
In a farmhouse on the other side of the continent, a young man named Vim had just set himself on fire. | 2022-10-25T07:41:29 | 2022-10-25T05:48:16 | 296 | 89 |
[WP] Sleep can be farmed up and sold, allowing buyers to go without sleep. Laziness is now a marketable attribute | “You need to take it easy,” my therapist said. “When’s the last time you slept?”
I unlocked my iPhone and swiped through to the sleep wallet. The number made my stomach sink. If he knew the number of days I bought, I’d never get out of therapy.
“A few days,” I said.
“Days, as in one, two, or three?”
“Two.”
Ones too few and threes too much. Middle of the road is always the safe option.
“You wouldn’t hide the truth? Would you, Derrick?”
“I-“
. . .
The room disappeared, replaced by sandy dunes, the twang of ricochetteing bullets, and a never ending rumble in the ground.
Captain Mason stood a head taller and two steps away from me. The sun beat down on both of us, until my skin started feeling like dry leather.
“They catch you, you don’t say a word,” he said.
A rumble shook the ground. Dirt clouds spilled over like morning dew over clifftop dunes. Men screamed. Soil and debris rained down with the faint smell of burning flesh and blood.
“Hide the truth?” I said.
Captain spat at the ground. “They catch you, you hide whatever-“
Blood splattered my face. Captain thudded to the floor, head arched back, mouth wide open.
“Captain . . . Captain.” I shook his body. “Speak to me.”
“You speak to me.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You heard me, Derrick,” the therapist said. “Speak your mind. Tell me what’s going on.”
I paused, taking in the fast returning room. “I can’t sleep.”
“Sell some, there are plenty of buyers.”
“That’s not it.” I cradled my head in my hands, fighting the visions. “I really can’t sleep.”
Wind howled against the room window pane. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on edge. I waited. There was no missile, only the wind.
“What can you do for me?” I asked.
The doctor smiled, in the way an old man gazed upon a child. “It’s not what I can do for you, it’s what you can do for yourself.”
Buy more, and more, and more, and more. No sleep, no fear, no demons.
“Can you up my meds?”
The therapist tapped the table with a pen. “That’s a last resort.”
The building seemed to shudder underneath us. I gritted my teeth and waited. The shuddering stopped and in the distance I heard the elevator doors ‘ding’.
“I’m desperate, doc.”
The therapist clicked his tongue. “You just need to take it easy.”
&nbsp;
*Check out more at /r/TwistStories*
| "When are you going to do something with your life" They had berated him. "When are you going to wake up and face reality?"
How ironic it was that he had quite literally dreamed up the invention. How just it was that he was richer than his parents would ever be. More alive than they could ever imagine. The CEO of Dreamscape, revered and envied by the world.
"BEEEEEEP. BEEP BEEP BEEP. BEEEEEEP."
He sighed and waved a lazy arm at the ship that was passing by. Honestly, there was no need to disturb the peace. He wished ships didn't have klaxons. What was the point?
He could sleep right now, if he wanted to. On board his yacht and surrounded by girls that were desperate to fuck him, to marry him, he truly was the king of the world.
No one could stop him.
No one could ever-
"BEEEEEEP. BEEP BEEP BEEP. BEEEEEEP."
*He groaned and clutched at his throbbing skull, sending a meaty palm, still bedwarm, crashing down on the snooze button. Another ten minutes of bliss, he promised himself. But he knew full well how unlikely fulfilling that promise was. He drifted away again, into his pipe dream, into the reality he had created for himself..."*
"Sorry ladies," he grinned. "I'm back..."
| 2018-01-25T04:51:06 | 2018-01-25T02:47:45 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] You were once the demon king. "Defeated" by the hero, you went into hiding to pursue a simpler life. Today the "hero" has appeared, threatening you family to pay tribute, not realizing who you actually are. Today you show them what happens when you have something worth fighting to protect. | I saw him coming a mile away, through my dying fields and the broken roads. I saw him stopping in every other house down the road, all poor families with barely anything to survive. Still he demanded their tribute, to those who had nothing to give him he killed, those who had given him too little he killed.
Now he was coming to my house, he was barely a couple hundred meters away, ascending through the grassy slope that led to my home.
He, the "fabled" hero. He, the "glorious" knight the prophecies had foretold. He who had stripped me from my throne.
Oh, those were the days... The "Demon King" they called me, such a silly name. One mothers would use to scare their children into obeying the most simple of commands. In those days I fought and I killed in my name, I fought for my own glory and no one else's. I became king thanks to The One, he had given me power, courage and might, and one day he took them from me and gave them to this coward.
He is getting closer now, I can see the scar I left on his face even from this distance. From the cheek to the eye and his forehead. Will he recognize the man that did that to him? I wonder, I don't think he will. Years have passed, I no longer inspire fear in fellow men. I no longer wear the thick dark armor and helmet that had gave me my nickname. I no longer wield the legendary axe. I'm barely a shadow of who I once was.
I no longer fight, I no longer conquer. I have a family, a wife and kids that depend on me working the fields and gathering just enough to live a happy live. They don't know who I once was, they don't know what brought smiles to my face in the past, they don't know how much I loved power, and they don't know that even if I could go back to that life I'd stay, just to see them happy.
He is in front of me. Behind him there's three guards, they are all completely armed and wearing the kingsmen armor. The only weapon I have close to me is the axe I cut firewood with. The only armor is the leather vest I'm wearing.
"It's the third month of the King's year." He speaks to me "We expect that you have enough to pay for your tribute."
What a piece of shit. He strips me from my throne and the first thing he does is demand the poor people tribute him for doing so.
"Look around, this has been a terrible year. I barely have enough for myself." I answer, every field was barren, it truly had been terrible.
The three guards straighten their shoulders, they are waiting for the order to strike me or my family.
"I didn't ask if this was a good year or not!" He is shouting at me. "What is easier? To beat the demon king that terrorized this kingdom or to work a damn field?!"
I stare at him, what a pathetic human being.
"Answer, peasant!"
When I lost my throne I promised I'd change, I promised I'd fix my mistakes and become the man my father was. Thar I'd let all that anger leave my body and my soul and become a better man.
"Guards, enter this... Hut. Bring everybody out." He orders his guards. I still stare firmly at him.
They move quickly around me and open the door to my home, I hear my wife and kids panicking as they're being grabbed and forced out of their own beds.
As quickly as they entered they leave, each of the guards holding one of my hearts. My beautiful wife, my son who I wish never follows my footsteps, and my daughter, so similar to my wife. How was I, the Demon King, allowed to have such a wonderful family. The One gives and The One takes away. I love them more than anything I've ever loved. Seeing these guards place their hands upon them lights a fire in my stomach I though I had put out long time ago.
"Every year citizens are expected to pay a tribute to me, their king. Every year, without fail! Those who can't are either taken away or killed, they are useless! But you! You won't even answer me, your king! So, you decide. Which one dies first? Your wife?" He approaches my wife and drags his fingers through her face, the fire in my stomach grows with every centimeter of her face he touches. "Your daughter?" He eyes my daughter up and down. I promise to The One, by this nightfall he won't have either of his eyes. "Or your son?" He grabs his arm. My son, fruit of my blood, my legacy. I feel the fire burning all my body.
"Arthur." I speak directly to the king as I stare into his eyes "If you do anything to my family, I promise, in the name of The One I promise, it will be the last thing you do." I say calmly
"You dare speak my name, peasant? You have guts." He approaches my as he draws his sword. "I'll kill you first."
"Daddy, no!" I hear my daughter shout before being silenced by a guard, don't worry baby girl. I should have done this a long time ago.
I extend my arm and grab the old axe I cut firewood with. He prepares a swing from his sword to strike me from the left. I have no armor to slow me down, no heavy boots, no cumbersome helmet. A raging fire roars withing me. I'm too fast for him. I take a couple of steps forward and hit him with my axe right in the top of his helmet, completely shattering it and slicing his head in two. This force, I haven't had this force since I was king.
The King immediately falls to the ground, there is no doubt in any of the soldiers eyes about what they just saw. Their king lies dead at my feet and there's nothing they could have done to stop it.
I bend down and pull my axe out of his head. I look towards the soldiers and my family. They soldiers meet my gaze with fear and with uncertainty.
10 years ago I would have killed them five minutes ago, but I promised myself I would change.
"Go." I tell them "And take him with you."
They let my family go and carried the dead king away with them.
I look to the skies as my family approaches me. The One, he listened to me. I once asked him for power and after it corrupted me he took it from me. Now, I asked him for a chance at redemption and he gave it to me. I no longer wish for power or courage, I wish to keep my family safe. | “It still hurts where he stabbed me.”
Those were the first thoughts that came into Azkellan’s head as he read the letter. A finely crafted thing he mused, thick paper surrounded by gold filigree and a seal stamped with an unmistakable sigil; a bull’s head on fire.
A ridiculous thing he remembered. “Bulwiyf the raging bull” with his bull helmet, charging at him like a frenzied dog, nipping at the heels of a god. Azkellan remembered laughing, an insect to be swatted away like so many others... or so he thought. The wound stung even more than as he recalled. It was as if reliving the past reopened it.
It has been a strange journey since Azkellan’s defeat so many years ago. His empire toppled, his armies scattered and himself barely clinging to life. He should have died, it was a good hit, square on the chest. But he didn’t. He crawled away as his dominion crumbled around him. He should have died... but instead the skeins of fate had other plans.
“You look troubled dear” Azkellan’s wife commented. “Something the matter?” “Oh it’s nothing, just the taxman wanting more is all” Azkellan replied. “Something about tribute. I would have though we paid enough”
Azkellan’s wife was not convinced. It was a strange thing for the taxmen to require tribute.. it was even stranger that there were taxmen at all. They lived in the free marches away from everyone. They were not beholden to any kingdom and owed no allegiance to any power. It was a poor lie the wife thought and worried her further.
“Azkellan tell me what’s wrong, who was that letter from and what do they want?” Azkellan sighed. His wife knows much about his past even though they don’t talk about it much these days. It was she who saved him, who nursed him back to health and showed him a way to live that brought a small measure of peace to him. He almost forgot who he was. The letter reminded him that maybe he could not really escape it.
“We are not safe here any longer” Azkellan replied. “Gather your things and take the children to the mountain passes, like we talked about. You should have provisions to last you through the winter.” “Azkellan... you can’t mean-“ “he’s found us... maybe he does not know who he’s asking tribute from or if he even remembers me... but I have to assume he does” Azkellan interjected.
The threats were clear and vivid. “We shall burn down your home, take what is yours. Should you have family they will be ours, your wife, daughters you will watch as we ravage them. Your sons will be fed to our hounds, the screams like music to our ears. You will watch it all and beg for death before it ends.” It was flowery stuff, but it was written seriously. Azkellan knows a valid threat when he sees it. He cannot take chances. He does not pay tribute. He could not. He will not.
“Go now love and don’t tarry... do as I say please” Azkellan begged. “You will not come with us?” His wife asked. “I cannot. We can’t pay this tribute so I have to go and set it right”.
Azkellan’s wife did not argue. The eventuality Of this moment was talked and rehearsed hundreds of times before. They prepared, for many years for it to come. Now it is here and despite her desire to just run away with him and their family to the mountain passes, she knew that it could not be. Even a demon has a devil on his back. He cannot run away from it. He must confront it.
Azkellan went outside and began digging. He hoped he never had to but before he could wish it away he was already done. He opened the chest at the bottom of his dig and donned his armor. It felt heavier than the last time he wore it. Wrought of black iron and bound to his soul. He found the whispers of his Armor’s spirit grating... like a cold sweat on his neck. He also found it familiar, like an old rake that felt right to hold. He grabbed his axe and felt its weight. A thousand souls sang a painful symphony inside it. They grow restless which made the weapon quiver in his hand. “Zirmoch the winter’s reaping” it was called. Forged from a heart of a falling star and quenched by the blood of innocents. Azkellan wanted to throw it into the bowels of the earth. He was glad he did not.
He kissed his wife and children goodbye. Their sobbing eyes looked at him as if they can change his mind, perhaps to leave it all behind. He turned around as started walking. He knew the way. East by the river’s fork and north towards the dragon’s teeth. 500 leagues away Bulviyf waited. The raging bull sat on a throne of iron. Azkellan’s throne before, waiting for it’s true master to come home. | 2020-09-23T00:19:39 | 2020-09-23T00:11:56 | 76 | 14 |
[WP] At 18, everyone receive a superpower. Your childhood friend got a power-absorption, your best friends got time control, and they quickly rise into top 100 most powerful superheroes. You got a mediocre superpower, but somehow got into the top 10. Today they visit you asking how you did it.
Best friend* sorry. | At first I thought it was the worst, how helpful could it really be. The realisation of my power wasn't until much later.
The first time it was useful was when I got mugged. Some broke guy with fire powers. He threw fireballs at me and I dodged them all. As he tried to strike me to ash, I deftly avoided his clumsy blows. A few seconds later and he was on the ground, pinned. I was thrilled, happy, inspired!
I knew what I had to do. I got lucky with the mugger, as he was as unfit as I was. So I learned how to work out, and I got good. I studied martial arts, kickboxing, all of the fighting styles. I ate right and exercised well, nothing special.
I definitely wasn't as powerful as other people with similar powers. Reading minds was pretty good, until you learn that people don't really think about anything interesting at all, it's just the same babble they say out loud. Predicting the future? Pretty great. The lotto shut down almost overnight due to all the winners. But free will has the annoying way of interfering. Luck can skew even the most accurate prediction. I read about it in chaos theory, butterflies and the compounding impact of random events.
I thought the ranking system was bullshit, I just wanted to make the world a better place. I would stop mutants that got out of hand, those that would hurt others for fun. People would come from all over the world to challenge me for my rank; there were thousands of them. Stronger, faster, better, but not smarter. One guy, called himself Hammer Hands, had fists as solid as iron but couldn't even land a single punch. People that were almost more monster than human would be whimpering on the ground in short work. One guy, ice powers, got so frustrated with me that I swear he would explode. A single mistake, and now he's in jail.
There was just one person who I had trouble with, who went by the name of Chance. He was lucky, incredibly lucky. He could predict almost everything that would happen with pinpoint accuracy. But there was always that margin of error, the infinitesimal sliver of failure. And I would take it. Of all my adversaries, he was the toughest. See, this is what separates the good from the great. He wasn't strong or powerful, he just used his power the best he could, just like I did. Did I defeat him? No. We shook hands and went our separate ways. Our powers were too close, and yet so far apart.
"And that's my story so far. So friends, what do you need to know?" I ask.
"Why are you telling us this?" Solium, my childhood friend responds, black skin drinking in the ambient light energy around him, eyes flaring with luminescent discharge.
"Because, power is not about strength, it's about wisdom," I reply, with a smug look on my face.
"Surely there's more to it than that. You must have a secret power. What is it?" asks my other best friend, Chron. I can already see that he's concentrating really hard on not manipulating the time in the room. Some of them are completely taken by their powers.
"I honestly don't. Like I said, it's how you use it."
I see it before it happens Solium has absorbed enough power to laser me. with a nod from Solium, Chron slows the room down and Solium blasts me into smithereens.
But I react swiftly, sweep-kick the chair out from under Chron. He falls backwards in surprise, grabbing for Solium as he falls. Solium is caught by Chron and his eye beam blasts through the ceiling leaving a gaping hole. Chron leaps to his feet instantly and scans the room for me. I drop from the ceiling rafters onto his shoulders. I know his hands are his power, and I quickly bind them with a nearby tea towel. Solium has clambered back to his feet at this point and blasts me off Chron, where I crash into a nearby wall, broken and unconscious.
I cancel the drop onto Chron and aim for Solium. His power is in his energy manipulation, so he hasn't learned to fight. He crashes to the ground as I land on him and grab a nearby electrical cord. I quickly shove the cord into his mouth and the electricity from the mains power distracts him from attacking back. Apparently there's a mental component to his power and he is distracted for now. I turn to Chron, but I'm too late. He's recovered and he's circling his hands towards me. My arms and legs are like treacle. I'm a fly caught in honey. Chron just smirks at me and says, "See, I told you. You weren't so strong after all."
After I plug the cord into Solium, I leap upwards and over Chron to land behind him. His power has misfired and hit Solium square in the chest, who looks intensely surprised. A quick five palm strike sends Chron to his knees. His look of surprise is pleasing to me, even though I've seen it from every opponent I've defeated.
"But how?" he asks.
"I've already told you, you just didn't believe me!" I snarl back at him. "Why did you even come here? We used to be friends!"
"I .. You are number 4. I'm number 57. I want to be number 4."
"It doesn't work like that you idiot."
There's a muffled whimper from next to us. Solium is now glowing a bright white. I forgot about all of the electricity pouring him, and Chron still had him held by his time power. I could see the strain in his muscles as he struggled to pull free, his face an intense mask of concentration, a single sweat drips rolls down his forehead. And then he explodes, killing Chron, myself and everyone else in a mile radius.
I unplug Solium quickly, stopping him from exploding. Chron turns and looks fearful as he realises the predicament we are both in. He quickly drops the time prison and Solium unleashes his torrent of fire and light high into the night sky.
Chron just looks at me with amazement. "But, you said all you could do is look three seconds into the future."
I reply, "There's a lot you can do with 3 seconds. | Trudging along in the snow, I reminisced on my time at the academy. It was a short two years filled with laughs and good times and twice as many struggles. I was humbled at the ingenuity of the human race for finally cracking the code on the MMSC gene. Now simply referred to as “The Mold”, it bridged the gap between those born with the gene, and the general populace because it wasn't an advantage exclusive to a few lucky people anymore.
“Can the exam get hurried along a bit, I'm daydreaming here.” I called out into the vast frigidness. Although I knew the examination referee was in earshot, he/she did not answer as protocol demanded.
I stopped at a particularly large redwood for a moment to take a break and leaned up against it.
A chilling howl echoed toward me from my left. I shivered, perhaps from the cold, or perhaps from the sound I had just heard. It mattered little because in my mind I knew that this threat wouldn't only be the path to survival, but it would also be the key to finding out my true superpower.
You see, finding out the true nature of your superpower through gene splicing was not like gaining it naturally. A natural Superhuman had their mutated gene lying dormant in them for years and years and had plenty of time to coax it out. However, an artificial Superhuman like myself didn't have that luxury and so the only sure fire way to discover what it is, is to be exposed to a life and death scenario and force your superpower to surface. Controlled danger, but real danger, that was the goal of the exam.
Surveying the dense canopy proved unnecessary because it wasn't long before my target made itself known. I heard it long before I saw it. Heavy, rasped breathing and uneven footfalls. 50 paces ahead, its figure appeared in the evening light and I observed its approach as I retreated to higher ground. I was afraid but focussed, and I looked upon the ugly creature with disdain. Its snout was wet with a mixture of blood and slobber and its lanky arms nearly grazed the snow as it walked.
20 paces ahead and now the doubt began to set in. What if my power doesn't reveal itself? Surely it will. It has to. These exams were created for this purpose. But what if it doesnt? I may be a mutilated corpse before the referee steps in.
The creature stopped and sniffed, it’s head movements were erratic and it began gnawing its own arm briefly before letting out a blood curdling screech. It leapt forward.
“Its now or never.” I said under my breath.
*crack.*
The creature lunged at me and I shielded my face but when I opened my eyes a massive tree lay atop the creature’s lifeless body in the snow at my feet……..
.......
“Wait…… Thats it? You felled a tree with your mind onto it? This is bullshit. That does NOT deserve a Global Rank 7.”
“Shhhhh! Of course thats not it Gigi, you saw what he did on patrol last month! That was a *Void Entity* we’re talking about not some Green Level proto-demon!” Mark whispered, trying to quiet her down. Some guests turned to us in curiosity but quickly returned to their meals.
“Fine, whatever, but that doesn't even match up with your exam. Just…. Like… Just tell me how you did it. Explain it.” She hissed.
“Guys. That's what I've been saying this whole time, I don't know! I kind of just thought about trees and then that void thing exploded into splinters of wood.” I tried to explain, but their expressions remained unchanged: Gigi fuming, and Mark looking on with wonder.
“And I even *knew* that you were going to be a World Breaker Tier but I didn't think it would be this…. I don't know..… *Stupid!* UHG! It pisses me off even more.” Gigi slammed her hand down on the table. Mark and I just laughed only adding to the annoyance of the other customers.
“Look man, can I like, y’know? I dunno how to ask without making it weird.” Mark gestured. I guess his power was as awkward for him as it was for others.
“Sure go ahead. If you can figure it out better than me then be my guest.” I replied, in too jovial a mood to care.
“Bro, oh my god thanks. This is gonna be *sweeeeeeet!* Cheers man!” He smirked and raised his mug in acknowledgement.
“Cheers. Merry Christmas guys.” I replied as our mugs clinked to Gigi’s reluctance. We downed our eggnog as the waiter came with our entrees. | 2017-12-18T01:14:38 | 2017-12-17T16:14:19 | 61 | 31 |
[WP] After witnessing a death, a young girl falls in love with the Grim Reaper. She becomes a serial killer just to see him more often. | For /u/ttough, who requested a more passive, surgical approach. My first prompt!
"You have an artist's hands."
Mira didn't jump in surprise, not anymore. Instead she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, accidentally smudging a little blood from her glove.
"Perhaps that's what I should have been," she replied quietly, and looked at the lifeless body on the gurney in front of her. The cuts were neat, precise, but it still hadn't saved him. It was a car that had killed him, but it felt like it had been her.
Pale fingers reached past her shoulder, a curved blade tracing the incisions she had made. They closed as if by magic, the pools of scarlet disappearing into nothing. It was still on her hands, though, tacky and tasteless.
"Mira, you are still an artist."
Mira turned slightly, and looked at Death. He looked back at her, at life, at a desperate attempt of it, and smiled. It was a sympathetic smile, one topped by eyes of pure black, eyes that had seen every mistake she had ever made, and still he smiled.
"You hurt when you see me," he murmured, his head tilting to the side when she twined her fingers with his. "You hurt even as you hunger."
Seeing him was like a kick to her system, a handsome spectre with a skeletal smile, the balm to the ache of losing another life. Amidst the sterile rooms and the gleaming tools, he stood like a swathe of darkness, and she was drawn to him, just as she was discouraged.
"I know I've failed when I see you," she replied softly, turning back to the bed to see the dead man's body - whole again, for now. "At least you bring them peace."
"So do you," he offered gently, one cold finger brushing her cheek. "You try to give them a second chance."
Mira turned to catch his palm against her jaw, savouring the chill burn, but her blood pumped slower with every second, and her skin grew colder with every touch.
"That's the problem," she whispered, and pressed a kiss to icy lips, even though it stung, even though it might kill her. "My work is in life."
"And mine in death," he replied.
The kiss stole the very breath from her lungs.
He drew back, keeping their fingers intertwined until the last possible moment, until her skin started to hurt, started to die, and then her hand fell against her surgical scrubs. He smiled again, soft and sad, and pressed two bloodied fingers to his lips. "Until the next time, angel."
The lights flickered, and he was gone, the body raw and red once more, and her heart screaming for oxygen.
"Until the next time," she sighed, but she pushed chilled fingers to her lips with a smile.
Mira's pager went off; a pile up on the motorway, the same accident that had introduced them the first time. So many people, so many lives, so many chances.
They said that absence made the heart grow fonder, so she took a deep breath, and returned to her work. | "We have to stop meeting like this." The deep reverberation goes right through her rib-cage into her lungs and and pounding heart.
"But you're so dark and handsome. And eternal" as she traces a hand over his admittedly sharp jawline. He smiles at her, but of course... he's always smiling.
"No my dear, I mean the third wheel." And they look over at the hyperventilating accountant, her latest victim, pulling out his hair screaming at sight of his own body. He looks like he's about to have a heart attack... Again. "Ah, but it's time to get back to work".
"No, not so soon. Let's meet again, just you and me. I know a place. Secluded." He nods and smiles, of course.
Later, he comes for her, alone. She's deep in the earth. She's well prepared. Sleeping pills, canister, bag, a bed she somehow managed to get down here. The lube he understood, but also condoms and tissues... as if that would be an issue. The goth getup is a little much.
He's not supposed to, but... well... he's already gotten his hands dirty in this one. No one will care if he gives it a little nudge. She's overly excited and as her body finally gives up the ghost? Down comes the scythe and she's on the express to down-under. He's gotten plenty of advice from clients. Never stick your bone in crazy.
| 2017-06-07T22:37:36 | 2017-06-07T19:31:34 | 110 | 14 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search | April 22, 2000 – Is Canada cold?
April 22, 2000 – Is baseball like cricket?
May 1, 2000 – Ontario sports leagues
May 1, 2000 – Recreational baseball tryout
August 12, 2000 – Academic sessions Ontario
January 13, 2001 – Google maps: Alternate routes home
February 14, 2001 – Fun single person activities
May 1, 2001 – Competitive baseball tryouts
June 30, 2001 – The psychology of sports
August 19, 2001 – Good books on making friends
September 11, 2001 – New York plane crash
September 13, 2001 – Practicing Islam without anyone knowing
September 16, 2001 – Insurance claims on stolen/vandalized property
September 23, 2001 – Rehabilitation for broken ribs and shoulder
October 10, 2001 – Are surgeries covered under Canadian healthcare?
December 28, 2001 – When to stop taking painkillers
February 13th, 2002 – Real estate listings
April 6, 2002 – British Columbia
May 1, 2002 – British Columbia baseball tryouts
May 3, 2002 – Unable to throw baseball without pain in shoulder
July 9, 2002 – Painkiller addiction
August 13, 2002 – University applications
February 14, 2003 – Effects of depression
May 21, 2003 – Alternative routes after high school
June 10, 2003 – Job posting sites
September 1, 2003 – Cam shows
December 25, 2003 – How to celebrate Christmas without family and friends
December 31, 2003 – New Year's resolutions: defeating painkiller addiction
January 6, 2004 – Cam shows
January 19, 2004 – Cam shows
February 14th, 2004 – Redemption and Islam
May 1, 2004 – LD50 of common prescription drugs | I used DuckDuckGo for mine.
"How hard is it to become an indie game dev in your spare time"
"Free C++ compiler"
"How to make a game with SDL"
"OpenGL extension wrangler"
"How to load a 3D model in OpenGL"
"OpenGL shaders"
"3D animation"
"game jam"
"early onset alzheimers"
"my computer has a virus called mingw compiler"
"can alzheimers be cured"
"google.com"
"yahoo.com" | 2015-02-04T18:35:51 | 2015-02-04T17:45:09 | 101 | 49 |
[WP] An alien has kidnapped Matt Damon, not knowing what lengths humanity goes through to retrieve him whenever he goes missing. | “You, Gyork, have sat in interplanetary trial, accused of unknowingly capturing the human currently known as ‘Matt Damon,’ in an act of interplanetary terrorism of the third degree, and have been relieved of accusations of terrorism. You will now stand, and the next trial will continue.
Gyork rose from his seat. He was prosecuted for terrorism, but the prior court ruled in his favor, removing the prior conviction. He made the horrible mistake of taking the wrong human back to his home-world. He just wanted to show his new human friend how nice his home planet was.
Gyork responded: “I pleaded ignorance, dear sir. I am no expert in alien history, or I would have not taken this human. I have now been thoroughly educated of the history of mankind on the life sustainable terraform in galaxy 4 and-“
“Earth.” Corrected the judge. “If you have been educated and truly understand the gravity of the situation you almost caused, your trial of knowledge will continue as a test, of which you have failed the first question.”
Gyork’s ocular bulbs lit with anxiety. He had only just witnessed the visual documentations of human history.
“Gyork, the first question: what human is currently the greatest threat to our kind? You have one revolution to answer.”
Gyork recalled the most recent documentary he viewed. He gave his best guess.
“The human Thor!” Gyork exclaimed, but to his dismay, the judge shook his head in disappointment.
“Please recall, Gyork, Thor may look human, but he is what the humans have labeled ‘Asgardian.’ I will proceed to the next question: which earth human has several large dragons that obey their will. Please give the name and title of the human. You have one revolution to answer.”
Gyork recalled immediately; this was his favorite earth human: “Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, Mother of Dragons!”
“Correct Gyork. But I remind you, one more incorrect answer, and you will face reeducation, where you will be forced to watch visual documentations and remain on planet earth until you are retested in 400,000 revolutions.”
Gyork wanted to show that he had learned things about the humans after his time there as well. His disguise on earth was great, so he was able to make many friends and learn many things from them, but he never liked learning about their history, there was just too much of it.
“The next question: which earth human was the first ever creature to survive the dive into a black hole?”
“Leonardo DaVinci!” Gyork blurted.
“Close, Gyork, very close. The correct answer is the human currently known as Matthew McConaughey.” The judge shook his head once more, and sentenced Gyork to 400,000 revolutions of observation and reeducation on Earth. He gave Gyork one final warning. “Also, Gyork, when you return to Earth. You might want to try out a name other than ‘Zuckerberg,’ the humans seem to be catching on.”
Edit: thanks for the compliments, replies and upvotes!! I’m usually a lurker so I’m really glad this was well received!! Have a great day y’all :) | The apparent reason for the kidnapping was to fill the vacant role of (janitor) on the ship. As the Aliens know earth is the most fecund spot in the Milky Way for specimens to fill janitorial roles.
What the aliens on the ship hadn’t expected was when Matt started work on the ship, mopping floors, cleaning space shit, and other mundane jobs, he was also doing reconnaissance on the ship for the Vladimir Putin ( a Russian oligarch who knew Sputnik was only the beginning of a rich space life he wanted now- before musk)
Putin being an evil genius and all put Matt Damon on all the space-job apps, knowing he’d be ‘mopped up’ immediately by extra terrestrials.
The script would then blip to Matt Damon’s grueling training to be able to fit a giant reconnaissance device in his ass hole- the weird doctor from human centipede was the brains behind that.
So back on the ship he does all this reconnaissance until a prestigious alien sees the reconnaissance device and is immediately alarmed by its un-earthliness. He follows Damon closely who grows increasingly paranoid at Putins constant need to command him to do things. The alien professor approaches Damon and they actually find they have a lot in common. Damon double crosses Putin. Putin finds out and detonates the reconnaissance device which doubled as an IBM. But the device didn’t kill everyone because Damon managed to put his great talent to use and shoved it right back up his ass.
Now the aliens are stranded in the Outback- Australia and they have vowed revenge on the Russian menace Putin. | 2018-06-06T14:23:38 | 2018-06-06T14:10:50 | 3,221 | 11 |
[WP] It turns out that adrenaline is considered one of the most illicit drugs in 90% of the civilized portions of the Galaxy. Among the circle of sapient races, humans are the only one known to produce it naturally. | Among the lines of hustling Warriors in dark armor, one carried an important message.
"Jarod, did you get my parcel?"
"Yep, got it an hour ago. Thanks!"
A message that will hit "reset".
"Hey Yosef! Yosef!"
It will make them bear their teeth and arms.
"YOSEF!"
It will sap their strength to stand.
"I have to tell Leader!"
"Wha-ok!" Dominic grabs his cell-radio from his belt, hits speed dial and brings it to his left ear. "Sam, this is Dominic. Messenger charging your gates at Epsilon oh-four. How copy?"
"Solid Copy, Dominic. Tell COMMS to purge the lines again, would you please? The static is terrible. Over."
"I'll get right on that. Dominic, out."
It will make their spirits flare and anger surge.
Yosef waved to the guards at the gate as he ran and they waved back. He is sweating, warm drops flowing down his back under his armor. Blood splattered on a few places, one blotch in particular over a single, thin yellow stripe on his right shoulder.
Yosef almost ran through the sliding doors into the uplink booth had they not parted a moment later. His training kicked in. Calming the mind and forcing his nerves to settle. He reached for his cell-radio again and stood in front of the terminal as the doors behind him closed and locked.
He inserted his cell-radio into the bottom slot and waited five seconds...
The screen didn't light up, but his helmet was pinged.
"Hello?"
"Tell me, how fucked are we?"
"Bad, sir."
"Report."
Yosef spent the next several minutes debriefing the Leader before he got to the end...
"...about ninety percent of the known sapient peoples learned that our bodies produce adrenaline."
"..."
"It's considered to be one of the most illicit drugs in this galaxy."
"Is that all?"
"Yes, sir."
"Code Black." The line went dead.
Yosef suddenly felt cold and whispered to himself, "Not my children. Not my children." He crumpled inside the booth, removed his helmet and gripped his head. Flashbacks of previous tragedies storming through his mind-
-the doors open.
"Hey! Get up! We have a Code Black!" Someone yelled at him before returning to the mass of Warriors streaming back into the hangar. Yosef looked at his brethren and took in their strides. Some were in full armor of varying configurations, their helmets pitch black concealing their faces. The rest were in BDU and undersuits with rage carved into their faces.
Seeing them snapped him back into reality.
"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!" Yosef screamed, running with his people as everyone went to their stations. Putting on their armor, loading tanks with ammunition and fuel, attaching guns to light vehicles and more.
***
I felt the past slowly creep up and its cold hand gripped my spine. Its bones offered no comfort, but remind me of the grave truth.
I felt my bones speak of the days when we used to shiver in caves.
I felt my blood scream at me, seeking to make dead those that threaten my chosen family.
Even as I charged through the lines, I couldn't help but see our previous war before me.
It's happening all over again.
Tracked. Hunted. Exploited. Haunted. We fought for over seven-hundred years to secure our right to live. We pulled victory from the jaws of defeat.
These fools have no idea what we've been through. They will learn of the strength of my family.
And they will fear my family. | John's body stood sprawled on a large metal block, tied down at each limb. His eyes stared down the barrel of an assault rifle. It stared back.
"No more," he screamed, "please!"
The gun sat latched to a bulky naked machine about 20m away. The machines operator was a mysterious dark figure stalking behind a panel of glass even further back.
A high pitched siren rang out and echoed throughout the dimly lit lab.
"Stop!" he pleaded again.
The machine sprung up, almost excitedly, and took careful aim. Another siren. John's body tensed, his eyes threw themselves shut. The trigger clicked followed by the loud blast of a gunshot that pierced John's ears so sharply that all he could hear immediately after was ringing. His muscles clenched tight around every inch, dreading what kind of damage he would see once he looked. One eye squinted open, then the other followed as his head jerked around to check himself. His lungs were throwing air in and out so fast he was sure he would suffocate.
Nothing. They missed on purpose again. Tears began barreling down his face. Uncontrolled sobs flowed out as his hyperventilating kept a steady rhythm.
The ringing in his ears were finally subsiding, just in time to faintly hear the third siren. A needle in John's arm started pumping out blood. There was a long clear tube which carried it along the metal block and out of sight.
"No good," yelled an annoyed voice from a corner of the lab. "They'll never accept such un-pure crap."
"Thats too bad. This one actually looked quite promising when he first came in," another faceless voice added.
"Looks like we'll actually have to start putting some bullets in em' now."
John went limp. His soul broken.
"Welp, lets get this over with," the first voiced sighed.
The siren rang out, followed by a gunshot.
| 2017-02-28T20:53:03 | 2017-02-28T19:50:36 | 111 | 31 |
[WP] "Fear not." You had everything right. The circle, the offering... How in heaven did you summon an angel?! | “Fear not,” the glowing, inhumanly tall creature said in a voice that was barely recognizable as human, and vastly more soothing, “I am the archangel Michael, and I am here to grant your request—on one condition. You must use it for good.”
Then, the archangel leaned down and kissed me on the mouth. Instantly I felt different, more powerful. I knew he had granted my request, but one thing still baffled me. Why had it been an angel that had given me this power when I had been trying to summon Satan? And what did he mean by “use it for good”? The power I had requested would give me the ability to kill untraceably, and that is what I had intended to use it for.
The power I had requested was lycanthropy. I had planned to use it to kill my boyfriend, if you could call him that. You see, I had run away from home when I was seventeen, and Zack had taken me in after I’d lived three months of that hell. However, he wasn’t willing to let me live with him without a price. I had to be available to service him at all times and in any way he wished. By the time I met him I was starving and deep in depression, so I had agreed. Unfortunately for me, Zack had a thing for dominating women, and liked to play out certain fantasies that for me were essentially real. He would approach me randomly, choke me until I was nearly unconscious, and then have his way with me while continuing to choke me if I moved.
You may be wondering why I stayed if I was in such a bad situation. Well, the answer is that I simply had nowhere else to go. I had been homeschooled, so I didn’t have many friends, and the ones I did have weren’t able to let me live with them. The other thing was that Zack could be very sweet sometimes. He would cook me dinner almost every night, and took me shopping randomly. I’m still not entirely sure what he did for a living, but at this point I am almost certain he was selling drugs. Either way, he made enough to afford a nice apartment, good food, and other luxuries. But that still doesn’t excuse what he’d done to me.
All of these events lead me to tonight, the Full Wolf Moon, or the full moon in January. Anyway, back to what happened that night.
As the angel pulled away, he began to shimmer and fade.
“Wait!” I cried. “What do you mean by ‘use it for good’?”
The Archangel Michael stopped fading.
“You know in your heart what that meaning entails.”
“So…so I’m not allowed to off Zack?”
"You know the answer in your heart.”
Then the angel continued to fade until he was nothing, leaving me baffled and slightly disheartened. Was I not allowed to use this newfound gift for the very reason I requested it? And *why* had it be an Archangel instead of Lucifer? That is who I had been trying to summon, and I had assumed he would be the only entity willing and able to grant lycanthropy. I knew I had to look into it later.
After I had finished the ceremony by closing the circle and removing my ritual cloak, I grabbed my phone and Googled “archangel Michael wolves”. The very first result said that an animal that he is associated with is wolves. Well, that explained that, but I still didn’t know if I was allowed to pursue my goal of murdering Zack for all of the times he hurt me. I would have to wait another month to find out.
To be continued… | My eyes flicked from Beneath-side to Loft-side, awkwardly staring up at the rift glowing, quite angrily, far above my head. Slowly, I drifted back, step by step, so that it didn't quite hurt my neck to stare at the floating pinprick in contemporary space time.
Then long strands of tan light dripped from the rift, dropping onto the floor, obscuring the lines I'd painstaking sketched from the book that had decided to catch itself on fire while screaming a few minutes ago, and I felt behind me for the door knob.
Fumbling desperately, I watched the first long white feather drift down from the hole, and then the entire thing tore open with the point of a holy weapon.
The door knob burnt like Lucifer's forges and melted before my touch as the rest of the wet mass of the angel fell from the Loft. It hit the ground with a wet sploshing sound, splattering the hems of my rose, and then, in defiance of chronometry and a dozen other laws, spooled into long threads of sticky skin.
Inch by inch they wove themselves into a pair of legs, shapely, androgynous, muscles, and then up into a torso. Feathers fell rapidly from the rip in the loft above, and squinting, I could see the presence of thousands of micro angels critiquing my presentation.
Then an arm, barely just crafted from the sewing flesh, pointed the heft of the heavenly weapon at me. Eyes spooled out of the muck as the angel lost context even in my own brain and eyes, indistinct except for the blade whose tip was almost piercing through my skin.
It was about this time that I'd decided that I'd fucked up.
"Who dares summon Oaths-Must-Last?"
Actually, I decided, I might be able to work with this one.
------
For more like this, click here. https://www.reddit.com/r/Zubergoodstories/
| 2018-08-24T17:08:11 | 2018-08-24T09:52:47 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] A genie gives you two options. One is to get your three wishes now, or to get one wish a day for five days. He tells you that no one before has survived and gotten all five wishes. You choose the latter. | "That won't be a problem."
Rovif had scaled several mountains, slain a giant eagle, and even incurred the wrath of a mage's guild just to reach this ancient temple. The fact that he survived all the deadly puzzles and tests of wits on his way to this underground altar room only gave him more confidence in his goal. Why would he hesitate when the Genie was in front of him?
"And, just to make it clear, it can be whatever I want?"
"Anything" said the Genie.
"Perfect. I'm ready."
"Very well," the Genie swelled with a torrent of magical energy, "state your first wish."
"I wish I was immortal."
The Genie paused. "R-really? Don't you wanna mull that over a bit? People always save that for last."
"I'm a decisive man."
The Genie laughed. "Way to go for the throat, then."
Rovif smirked. "Problem?"
"No, no, it's your wish. That said, I will warn you that it doesn't count as surviving if you end up trapped under rocks for eternity."
Rovif swallowed. "H-has that happened before?"
"Yes!" echoed two strange voices in the distance.
Rovif furrowed his brow, confused.
"Just ignore them..." said the Genie. "One of them thought they could stop anyone else from ever reaching the temple by collapsing it. Obviously, since he was immortal, he could survive the aftermath of any explosion he created." He grinned. "That stroke of genius literally backfired."
"Screw you!" said a male voice.
"And the other?"
The Genie chortled. "She didn't listen to our warnings when she tried the exact thing."
"That's on me..." said a female voice.
Rovif started looking around the altar room. He couldn't see them anywhere. "Where are they?"
"Meh, they're encrusted somewhere in the walls. I had to rearrange the temple around them. Do you wish to know their location?"
Rovif frowned. "No, make me immortal."
"Sorry, sorry, I had to try."
"I've read every legend there is to find this place. I think you'll find your usual genie tricks won't work on me."
The old immortal man cackled. "That's what *I* said!"
The Genie shook his head with a knowing smile. "Believe it or not, I never have to do a thing. People always seal their fate with their own wishes. Are you sure about this?"
"I won't repeat myself."
The Genie nodded. "Your wish is my command!"
--------
>[Continued here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/bxt4rx/wp_the_blacksmith_wont_sell_you_any_weapon_the/eq9nb5w/) | “Five wishes, I’ve got a good feeling about this.”
“Are you sure?” The Genie has a concerned expression on his face.
“Well, let’s see how the first wish goes.”
And I winked.
—-
“ I wish for the wisest teacher in my universe to guide the rest of my four wishes each day.”
“So shall it be.” The Genie intoned.
—-
“I wish to understand the separation between reality and consciousness.”
“Did she tell you to make that number two?” The Genie playfully asked, “So shall it be.”
—-
Day 3...
I really had to think about this one...
some good lessons a long the way. Really good ones. Best teacher in the Universe I’d really wanted. Woo.
“Figure our what you need for your third?” The Genie reminded me.
Indecision had been most of my day.
Ah, I think I understand.
I ask.
“I wish to understand Time in all its beautiful ways.”
The Genie regarded me.
“So shall it be.”
—-
Day 4...
I wake up.
—-
More of my writing can be found at r/counterfiction | 2019-06-04T10:57:08 | 2019-06-04T10:12:37 | 91 | 20 |
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