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[WP] A hero realizes they're actually a sidekick. | I stared up at the enormous banner hanging over the city's iconic bridge. It featured a massive picture of a handsome man wearing an orange-beaked mask over his face. Bulging muscles rippled through his tight spandex top, and he was striking the classic heroic pose. Below that, bold text declared:
> Thank you, Orange Falcon! The people of Mayfair City love you!
Thank you *Orange Falcon*? Why does *he* get all the credit? We were a crime-fighting *duo*. Everyone knows that! The Orange Falcon and his *partner* Peregrine Boy. Sure, maybe he had the super strength, but *I* was the one that invented the flight suits that we used! Super strength isn't much good if you're stuck in traffic and can't get to the scene of the crime, is it? I was the *brains* behind the whole operation!
I took off and jetted back toward the Falcon Nest to confront him. Just because our secret base is named after him doesn't mean that *he's* the only hero here. In fact, it's named after *both* of us. A peregrine is a type of falcon, after all!
As I strolled through the atrium, I looked at all of the memorabilia that we'd collected over the years. Framed newspapers always seemed to use that perfect picture of him socking the bad guy in the jaw, which I was fine with. I wasn't a "get my hands dirty" type of hero, and my contributions tended to be less picturesque. Who wanted to look at photos of me soldering late into the night to fix the electronics in my gadgets? And the action figures made sense too: of course they'd focus on the guy with super strength. That was just more marketable to kids. It was basic capitalism. And there *was* a Peregrine action figure too, even if it was sold as an 'add-on' to the Orange Falcon set. But people still knew that *I* was a hero too, right?
"Falcon!" I called out. My words bounced down the wide hallway and came echoing back. "Can we talk?"
No response.
I finally found him in the media room, where I'd set up an entire sound studio to give interviews while still disguising our true identities.
"...wasn't that difficult," he was telling some reporter. "You'd think that a giant mutated crocodile would be able to take a punch, but apparently not!" The reporter laughed along with Orange Falcon's hearty bellow. "So in the end, that's really all it took to defeat the beast: just some good old fashioned elbow grease." I rolled my eyes; Falcon seemed to have this idea that he was a master lyricist. People only bought his albums because he was famous as a hero.
I shut off the camera and the TV.
"Hey, what the hell, Peregrine Boy?" He gestured at the TV like I wouldn't know what he was referring to. "I was in the middle of an interview!"
"Yeah. I know. Nice of you to tell me that we were going to be talking to them about *our* victory over Croc."
He smiled sheepishly. "Well, uh... they really only wanted to talk to me."
I threw the remote into the wall. It just bounced off with a *clack* and fell to the floor. I'd really hoped that it would at least make a dent. "This is bullshit! We're a *duo*. Why do *you* get all the press?"
"Look," he said. "Everyone knows that you contribute too! It's just... I'm the one who *actually* has superpowers. And we can't all be *the* hero, OK?"
There it was. We can't all be the hero. I glared at him as he turned the microphone and TV and went back to his interview. "Sorry, Marge. Bit of a technical interruption there!" He didn't even notice as I stormed out of the room.
I packed my belongings and left the Nest. But not before leaving the Orange Falcon a little present in his flight suit: an explosive charge that would detonate as soon as he reached an altitude of 7,000 feet. He may be super-strong, but not enough to survive an impact like that.
If I couldn't be famous as a hero, then I'd have to try another route instead. | There is a list of things in the world that suck. I knew that somewhere, someone had written it and left it on a bar. This moment would be on that list. I was flat on my ass staring at Techtron as he shook his head at me. "Looks like I've got you, this time, Miss. Vanquish.
He was right. I'd thrown everything I had at him, and it still wasn't enough. Whatever new machine he had built it was enough to let him beat me. To our left, a helicopter hovered steadily in the air with news cameras reporting my fall. There would be a new hero, the town would still be safe, but I was done for.
That was when Knight Girl stepped in. The gave Techtron the lightest slap I had ever seen, and he disappeared from my super-vision. I snapped my head to the right and watched him slam into the building a hundred feet away. She'd hit him hard, harder than any punch I could have thrown.
Techtron blinked back into existence in front of me. "What was-" Karen smacked him again, this time slapping him to the left. I caught the beginning of a dammit as he flew toward the skyscraper to our left. He crashed into the needle and knocked it over. Thank goodness he was wearing power armour.
"Karen?" I asked as she held out a hand. It was her second day on the job and her first big fight, "what was that?"
"Oh that?" she asked, "I hit him."
"I noticed."
"So yeah," she looked over to the cracked needle, "I think he should be out cold, want to go home?"
"You can't just do that," I pointed out, "how were you so strong?"
"I am."
"Wha?"
"That's just how hard I hit." She shrugged like cracking someone across a handful fo city blocks wasn't a big deal.
"Did you-" I stopped myself, "you're from the program?"
"Yeah," she said, "I signed up as an intern to become a hero. Gotta climb the ran-" I stopped her by putting a hand on her lips. I smiled.
"No I think you have what it takes," I said, "I can give you my spot."
"What?" she gasped.
"Yeah, how about you play the hero and I be your sidekick for a bit. I can coach and you'll learn the ropes."
"Wow I-" Karen started to tear up, "thank you so much."
I sighed, I'd been working for years to get this ranking. "Don't mention it." I was giving up a lot, but the main part of being a hero was working for the people. I would work better as a sidekick to her. | 2016-01-14T07:38:40 | 2016-01-14T07:14:16 | 110 | 20 |
[WP] You're a sadistic serial killer, living in a dystopia. It's becoming increasingly difficult to find resisting victims, and it's getting boring. You decide to become a therapist to remedy the problem and discover that you're ridiculously good at it | \[763 Words\]
​
Title: "The Homemade Meal"
​
“And how does that make you *feel*?" My voice was calm, as calm as it could be.
"It makes me feel... empty," she sighed, reclining on the couch, "as if there's nothing to live for."
I took a long, hard look at my first patient. It was not going as well as I had expected.
"Life is suffering," she continued, reaching into her purse and producing a pack of cigarettes, "…and then you die. That's all there is to life, isn't it?"
I was no therapist, and the clinic that I had set-up was based on nothing more than fake documents and a shiny neon sign outside.
“Well, is there anything else you’d like to get off your chest?” I asked, eyeing the pathetic creature that apparently had forsaken its survival instinct – a rebellion against nature.
“It’s all pointless.” Taking a drag, her eyes wandered along the roof. “I could die right now. And it wouldn’t even matter… to anyone… to me… The world goes on…”
I clenched my fist, trying to repress my rage that grew with every passing moment. This was exactly the kind of shit I was trying to escape.
The sole object for disguising myself as a therapist was to feed on raw emotions. Ever since the latest economic collapse, suicide rate had skyrocketed, and that had affected my hobby in the worst of ways. My last few victims, on separate occasions, did not cry, plead, or beg me for mercy. They had simply closed their eyes… *Not even a shriek!* One of them even thanked me, and called me an angel of mercy!
That was upsetting for me, enraging… depressing, even… And that was when, as though by Divine revelation, the idea had occurred to me. I remembered smiling to myself, singing to myself in the shower, winking at myself in the mirror.
On the very first day, however, sitting aside my first patient, all my hopes and dreams were starting to look as fragile as her desire to live.
I had half expected the girl – when I first laid eyes on her – to beg me to save her from her inner demons. I did not sign up for this apathy shit.
“Enough!” I stood up, enraged. “Stop treating yourself like garbage, woman!”
With an abrupt motion, she sat up on the couch, clearly puzzled by my sudden animation after an hour of passive listening. “Wha…”
“The world is a beautiful place! Look around you. *Open your eyes!*” I pointed outside the open window at the tree, the name of which was unknown to me, with orange leaves, and let the singing birds fill in the silence. “Can you hear that? The birds are fucking chirping, for God’s sake! Isn’t that amazing, that a tiny lump of organic matter enclosed in fluffy, colorful feathers can sing? Is that not enough to live for? What more do you want?” I paced around the room. “What is the difference between you, and, say, the couch you’re sitting on? Huh?”
“It’s…dead?” She stammered.
“Exactly! And so will you be! Well, eventually, I mean, but let’s forget about that, shall we? Yes. Just forget about death, and all the uncertainty of life, and the shit that you’re going through, and just… *feel*… how fascinating it is to be alive! The couch can’t hear a song on the radio, but you can! The couch can’t read a book, or watch a movie, or have a drink, or feel the caressing touch of the wind on its face, but you can! I’d say, *stop* being a couch and *live* your life, goddammit!”
I did not know what came over me, but after a few more minutes, she faintly began to smile, and assured that she actually felt better, and told me that I was the weirdest, most unorthodox therapist she had ever been to.
As she was leaving, she turned around in the doorway, and said, “Mr. Khan, I don’t think this profession suits you.”
“What do you mean?” I exclaimed.
“Umm, I guess you should be a motivational speaker, you know?” She smiled. “That way, you can reach more people and tell them how beautiful it is to live! And how not to be a couch.” She giggled mischievously, and walked away.
“Motivational speaker, huh?” I muttered to myself, and told myself that I would think about it later.
Right now, the most pressing matter at hand was tonight’s hunt.
After a long time, I was excited.
As Ma always used to say, “Nothing more delicious than a meal you have worked for.” |
"Welcome everyone to the favorite morning show the world, the *Market Opener!* We have an interesting guest tomorning, the only woman who could rise from the impecunious and entered the prosperous society. She will tell us about how she began working as a shrink, and became one of the most successful therapists! After the interview, we will pray for the God of the Open Market for another prosperous day. Brought to you by Omozan. But first, a word from our sponsor, Invasion: Dark Fable..."
"Welcome Ms. Tangerine, please have a seat on this nice IGEA sofa. Please, tell us about how you became one of the most successfull therapist."
"Thank you for having me. Well, the life in Scrumville was quite difficult..."
"Ms. Tangerine, we are not here to discuss life there as it does not concern us. We are here to discuss your success, with as little about life outside of the Prosperous Society as possible. Thank you."
"I had a... well... A hobby of mine, meeting new people every now and then, have some fun and then continue living my life. Unfortunately, it was very difficult to find new *friends* who begged for, Khmm, I mean valued their life as much as I did, so I started asking them questions. How was work? What did they eat? And so on. Some of the burst out in tears, some of them -ironically, I didn't say- found hope again. The word got out and instead of me trying to find new *friends*, the came to me. I absolutely hated it, and wanted them to stay away, so I told them my... my lessons are very expensive. That did not stop them, and soon had enough money to buy myself into a tiny little house in this great society. Currently I have some patients, but I don't really have enough time to find *friends* here. However, with this much reason to live, I'm sure I can enjoy being with my *friends.*
"This is really impressive, almost as impressive as SquareArea, the easy webpage maker. Can you tell us about your patient zero?"
"Hmm, sure. He was a tall man, not good looking but not bad either. When I captu... When I met him he was really sad, and did not respond to any of my... proposals. I wanted to start a therapy session, but he was so bored It quickly discouraged me."
Yeah, he was a big pile of haplessness. I took out my torture tools, and he I can still remember his words: "ohH Noo, I'm GoNNa Be ToRTurEd, OHH noOo." I quickly peeled of his nails, but he just continued: "yayy, one less thing to wash when I get to work. The boss might give me some premium." He was so deep into the rabbit hole; he could not feel any more pain. Which wasn't fun. I returned from my memories:
"So I started to ask questions. How would life be better, and how he could change. After we talked for more than 4 hours, I let him go with a promise, that he will change his life. I found him about a month later, and I have to tell you this: I was more than satisfied how our next meeting turned out." | 2020-04-13T05:48:42 | 2020-04-13T05:27:49 | 465 | 75 |
[WP] Two people discover a fountain of youth. The problem is that upon drinking the water you turn back into an infant. The two decide to take turns raising each other in order to live forever until one day one of them decides to break this agreement. | "No, please."
She pushed the vial away from her lips, her thin and wrinkly hands shaking.
"Why?" I asked.
"I... I'm so tired, dear." She sighed. Then she continued:
"My flesh is tired."
"What do you mean?"
"The other ones, my other lives, I've come to realize... they were not *really* me. I've read their diaries, I've memorized the formula. You raised me and I made you young again. I raised you as though you were my own child. But there is no personal continuity between these versions of us and the ones that came before."
There were tears in her eyes, now.
"This is not immortality. Just a series of deaths. A long line of lives we cannot remember, but I swear I can feel the weight of every loss in my bones."
She put her hand on mine.
"I want to sleep."
"But what about our deal?" I asked. "What about us?"
"You will have to find a new one. It will be easy to find somebody willing, but harder to find someone to trust."
I nodded.
"Now leave me. Please. I will have my peace, at last."
I slowly backed out of the room, and I whispered "good bye" as I closed the door.
Walking down the hallway I returned the vial of cyanide into my pocket. I obviously wouldn't need it for this one. That was a first. She'd almost figured everything out, that stupid old hag. She must've been depressed. Whatever. That made things easier for me. Of course the formula lets you preserve your memories! It would be pointless, otherwise. The only reason my partner couldn't remember her past life was because she hadn't lived one. Neither had the one before her.
I already had the next child prepared. I would raise her as my daughter. Then she would raise me as her son. Then I would kill her. Rinse and repeat. A god doesn't share his throne. | "I can't go on living like this. I wanted to be with you and love you forever. And after a thousand years of this I've realised that we never really understood the purpose of life. My age has made me wise and I finally know what I want and need. We can't keep on working
and never relaxing.
Will you grow old with me and let me love you until the day I die?"
| 2015-02-14T06:40:49 | 2015-02-14T00:35:54 | 1,103 | 57 |
[WP] 50% of the world's population has the ability to fly, 50% does not. The only way to find out is to jump from a height that will surely kill you. | One step. One step and over the ledge I go, eight hundred feet straight down the mountainside. They say it doesn't hurt, that if you close your eyes it's like the wind tunnels without all the noise. No one survives unless they can fly, and if you can fly you won't hit the bottom; no injuries, no pain, all the freedom you ever dreamt of. A girl could use some freedom these days.
Silently I think of all the things that went wrong this year. Flunking jump school, Kayleighs' first flight... her last flight. I let myself remember one last time what her smile looked like, the way she grinned with the left side of her mouth before she kissed me. She kissed me. The solution and inevitable cause of so many of my problems. Something settled in my bones that day, a truth that for so long I tried to hide. With Kayleigh by my side, I could fly.
I sighed, opening my eyes again and looking out at the horizon. The view is beautiful, the sun just setting behind the far ridge, blazing a gorgeous red-orange. If Kay isn't the last thing I can see, this will have to do. I don't even care anymore about the stupid rite of passage for the gifted kids, the ones who can fly. I don't care if the wind lifts me up and plays through my soul like a warm caress on a barren land stripped clean of life.
I shift my weight forward and sway, feeling the breeze picking its way through the tuffs of scrub at my feet. I turn and look back at the mountain, admiring its confidence and its stubborn refusal to move even after the other mountains had almost worn away. I take one last look at its sunset colored face, and give myself to the wind. As my body drifts downward I look to the sky, searching one last time for Kay's curvy outline, trying to picture her face above mine like I had seen her so many times before. I close my eyes, and I can hear her calling me home. | "How do you respond to people who say your invention has enabled the greatest separation of humanity to date ? the haves from the have nots ? and did you consider this before you used your family name on the trademark " ... the interviewer added quickly as if knowing this would be the last question he would get to ask.
He seemed stunned by the question ... pausing to consider his response George Bungee turned to the flashing cameras lights to begin his answer... | 2015-04-04T18:16:09 | 2015-04-04T17:57:03 | 29 | 20 |
[WP] A cult summons an elder horror only to find that the awful truths it has to share are only beyond the comprehension of the medieval Europeans who wrote the legends about it. Most of what it has to share is actually taught in grade school today. | A board room, filled with people in suits. The room is empty of furniture however.
"Rogers, is everything in place?"
"Yes sir. The candles with exactly 1 inch of dribbley wax are placed exactly 72 degrees around the circle."
"Excellent. Kingston?"
"Right on schedule sir. The moon will be geometrically aligned with Venus in exactly 124 seconds."
"Very good. Very good. Maxwell?"
"The circle is drawn to precise measurements. It was easy with laser pointers. One of the interns threw up though. Mixing ash with virgin blood is particularly smelly. Hopefully killing the virgin in the process is not a prerequisite. That would be a nightmare to litigate."
"You're rambling Maxwell, just tell me are we ready?"
"Sorry sir, yes sir."
"Good. Finally, Litworth, is it ready?"
"Certainly sir, we've translated the text perfectly into a verbal phonetic listing. Just read it as it is written, and it will work."
"Great. Can I get a count down to the alignment?"
"Certainly. Alignment in 10 seconds."
A hush falls over the room, and the suitably dribbley candles flicker, almost as if they rehearsed.
"5 seconds." The fluorescent lights in the room darken. A brown out perhaps. Not uncommon at night in the city.
"4." The wind howls. Typical midwinter weather.
"3." A bolt of lightning hits a nearby skyscraper.
"2." Somewhere nearby a dog barks.
"1." Silence descends on the room.
"Now."
"Liabereth narctuku somlimnitos kianiarchu omberanos."
Nothing happens.
"Oh well. A vague instruction in a dusty old book. Superstition right?"
"I guess so."
"Oh wait, I forgot to carry the one. The alignment should be right now."
A large flash of light fills the room, causing many of the people in suits to cover their eyes. The light from the candles flare and spark, reaching out to each other with lines of power. They connect, forming bars of light and sparks across the room. A perfect five pointed star fills the room with an eery red glow. In the middle of the glow, stands a being. It's long horns scrape the ceiling, causing the monster to stoop a little. It's leathery wings folded against it's back. It's shoulders stooped a little, avoiding the power keeping it contained. Long robes barely mask the long sinewy muscles that line it's body. It's hoofed, goat-like feet shuffle nervously. It extends one of it's long taloned claws upwards, adjusting the half moon spectacles to better see it's summoners. The other claw clutches a couple of books carefully across it's chest, protecting them. The spine reads "The Hobbit."
"Oh great and mighty Hellington. I beseech thee."
"Wellington." the demon replies.
"What?"
With an english accent and a slight nasal twang the demon says "My name is Wellington. You know, like the boot."
"Uuuh, okay. Oh great and mighty .. Wellington. We beseech the for ancient knowledge, terrible and powerful!"
"Ummm, okay. What kind of knowledge?"
"The knowledge to conquer the world, and to defeat our enemies!"
"Oh, this again. Very well. If you take some sulfur, charcoal, and potassium nitrate, mix it just right, you can get an almighty bang. I'll leave it up to you to figure out the rest. Just don't blow your fingers off." the demon starts wheezing in and out, in a weird laugh.
"You mean, like gun powder?"
"Well, it's black powder, I don't know what a gun is."
"You have got to be kidding me. No, I want dangerous secrets, like what this book says!"
"Oh, then you want the SECRET knowledge." says the demon, winking at the head suit. "Then I shall teach you the power of math omat ix. Trigg erno metrie. And the dreaded cal culus."
The head suit blinks a couple of times, not sure what is happening. Some of the other suits are murmuring to each other.
"No no no, we already know those! We want to know spells of death, destruction, the power to destroy our enemies. To conquer entire countries effortlessly!"
"Well, yeah, that's all you mortals want to do. Listen, if you learn math omat ix, you will learn the sy ens that you seek that will help you here."
"I don't want to learn science. We already know science. We want to know magic!"
The demon starts to wheeze again, but after a few seconds composes himself.
"Magic isn't real. Magic is just what we told you people back when you first started trying to contact us."
"Then how did you just appear here?"
"Oh, that. We keep an eye on you, and when you guys use the right spell, we just use our teleporter to pop down and give you a bit of a fright and maybe teach you a couple of things. But that must have been about five hundred years ago now. A guy called .. vinchi .. leonard vinchi .. I can't remember. But it looks like you've done quite well. I'm in a concrete room, three hundred feet above ground, and I can see your whole city through the glass. Conquered electricity, nice. Flight? Very cool. Radio waves, very nice. Oh, and the internet. Well done. I'm going to cash in tonight. Greg said you guys wouldn't have telecommunications for another thousand years."
"But, how?"
"Oh, we're demons, but we're not stupid. We've had this stuff for millenniums. So, you've probably split the atom, and discovered sub atomic particles, and maybe even dark matter. Hmmmm. What to give you next?"
"Uuh, what?"
"Well, you said you wanted more knowledge, more power, here it comes. Cold fusion is a dead end. Hydrogen doesn't work like that. If you can finally get enough magnetism to constrict the plasma fluid dense enough, you CAN achieve a stable fusion reaction. Which means ..."
"Infinite free energy."
"That's right. Which is energy enough to destroy everyone you hate. But I think by the time you get there, you won't want to. Anyways, I gotta get back to my dungeons and dragons game. Good luck and see you in a hundred years!"
The flash of light goes out with a pop and the room is back to the same empty, fluorescent lit board room it was before. Although the candles are a little more dribbley now.
"What was that? Did that even happen?"
"Shut up, magic isn't real, we have work to do." | The ritual was ready.
A heptagram of diabolic uncture, gathered at great personal risk by the high hepton, pointed with candles made from the earwax of dead men encircled Larry, the unwilling sacrifice. He was paralysed, a condition wrought upon him by forced consumption of the sacred grape poison (well, at first forced - eventually he kept asking for more and loudly decrying his love of ‘Shauna’), and carefully prostrated in the sixty-ninth profane position.
“WE SUMMON THEE,” thundered the high hepton.
Nothing happened.
“GREAT LORD OF EVIL, BARON OF BONES, COUNT OF CRUELTY, DUKE OF DESPAIR, PRINCE OF PENITENCE, HEAR OUR WORDS AND COME FORTH.”
Nothing happened.
“SHE WHO THIRSTS, HE WHO HUNGERS, THAT WHICH KNOWS ALL, WE BESEECH YOU.”
Finally, a rift began to open. Spinning, the sickening neon green, the portal split apart realities and from it came a creature of horror. It had the semblance of a man but was grotesquely large, hair sprouted from the base of its face, grease dripping from every pore and clothed in white-speckled rags.
“I AM DEATH, DESTROYER OF WORLDS,” it proclaimed proudly.
“My lord,” replied the High Hepton, “we seek your wisdom. We seek the awful truths that must be known to ascend.”
“THERE IS NO GOD” screamed the creature, “THERE IS ONLY EUPHORIA.”
The cult, confused by this sudden turn of events, muttered to themselves for a moment. How could there be no god if they had literally just summoned one? Best not to worry about it, they reasoned, letting the High Hepton step forward again.
“And of this world? Tell us, what truths are there?”
The creature faltered a moment, as though confused that it's blasphemic pronouncement was insufficient to cow these mortals.
“WELL,” it replied, “THE SQUARE OF THE HYPOTENUSE OF A RIGHT ANGLED TRIANGLE IS EQUAL TO THE SUM OF THE SQUARES OF THE OTHER TWO SIDES.”
It looked rather happy with the commotion that this caused. Cultists were quickly adding up numbers to check it. Sensing an opportunity the great demon screamed again.
“THE WORLD IS A LIE, IT IS NOT FLAT BUT IS IN FACT A SPINNING BALL OF ROCK.”
Another flurry of conversation ensued with much nodding and writing down of concepts.
“MONARCHY ISN’T THE ONLY POSSIBLE FORM OF GOVERNMENT.”
This one proved hugely popular with many a cultist nodding sagely and explaining to their fellows that they had always felt that there were alternatives, usually a cultarchy. Above them all, the putrid beast smiled.
“YOU ARE SURROUNDED BY TINY THINGS THAT CAN GET IN YOUR FOOD AND MAKE YOU ILL, SO COOK YOUR FOOD.”
Muttering of wisdom and sageness ensued, much debate being had over whether this extended to beef and, if so, was it worth the risk? Perhaps these little things were demons.
“NO TAXATION WITHOUT REPRESENTATION.”
This one had to be a prophecy of unclear meaning. The creature was puffed out, as though it had just thought of something really clever to say. Beneath him, the army of cultists began to feverishly wonder who was being represented and who was being taxed. They concluded, somewhat logically, that they were the ones who had to pay taxes and weren’t being represented adequately.
Amidst this flurry of logical debate the high hepton stood forward with a final question.
“Oh Dark Lord, tell us, your loyal subjects: how can we overthrow this corrupt world and replace it with paradise?”
The creature paused, as though considering a truth beyond comprehension, before replying:
“DON’T BE A CUCK.”
And with that pronouncement it vanished, leaving nothing behind.
“Well,” said the low hepton to the high hepton, “is now a bad time to mention that we used the wrong kind of candle?”
“What do you mean?”
“Dead man wax brings forth the soul of our sacrifice from the future, turns out you need dead child wax for the eternal horror.”
“So what have we just heard.”
“Well,” said the low hepton, looking at the sacrifice, “if I were to guess, a soul that is completely incapable of proper social interaction.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well boss,” replied the subordinate, “when we picked up the sacrifice he was enjoying himself whilst looking at hand drawn cartoons. He insisted that it was more cultured.”
“Great,” sighed the hepton, “those idiots down there” - he gestured at the cultists - “are busy unlocking the secrets of a rambling lunatic.”
***
If you enjoyed this please feel free to check out other pieces I’ve written. I collect them on my blog Game, Set and Incoherence (http://gamesetandincoherence.blogspot.co.uk/)
| 2017-09-04T09:04:22 | 2017-09-04T05:47:48 | 2,708 | 93 |
[WP] Your father told you to never open the music box in the attic. Your mother used her last words to beg you to open it. | Father was never a kind man. Not to me, not to Mom, not to waiters or cashiers or even dogs. I don't know what happened to make him such an angry person, drowning in drinks, but he'd certainly never tell me about it.
And yet, for whatever reason, Mom always loved him so much. Too much, if you ask me. I asked her once and she only said, "Katie, one day you'll meet a man you truly love and understand that some of them are harsh but still good people deep down inside. Your father's lost himself, but I promise, he's a good man. He'll never hurt you, not as long as I'm here to protect you, love. He means well."
He beat her that night for dropping a dish in the sink and breaking it. Not like he was some kind of china collector, I think the sound just annoyed him and he had been looking for an excuse. Gave me a solid whack for trying to get in front of her after the first few hits, and a few more that night when I'd wandered into the attic and found a little antique music box. It was carved from such a pretty oak, but before I could open it, he found me and screamed, throwing it aside, grabbing me. I often wondered what was in that box, in the years that followed, but never dared to risk it.
Still, she defended him. Still, she loved him.
I did not.
Dad wasn't even in the hospital when she died. I don't know if he didn't care, or if he just didn't even know it was happening, or he was sulking because he can't get satisfaction out of beating a corpse, but it was for the best either way. Lord knows I didn't want him there, for her to see his face at the end. She deserved better than that, and abandoning her was the kindest thing he ever did.
The doctors said it was a sudden illness, but I knew better. He'd done something. It had to be his fault.
"I'm here," I said, kneeling next to her. Her breaths were quick and short; I could tell it was the end. "I love you so much."
She smiled, a faint, wispy thing. "I know, darling. I'm sorry."
"Don't be," I choked out through tears. The world had become a blur. "You did nothing wrong."
"Oh, I don't know about that. I don't know." She drew a deep, raspy breath as the beeping of her heart monitor increased, and her eyes widened. "Katie, you have to go to the attic. Find the music box."
"Wh- why?"
A weak hand squeezed mine with all the might it could muster. "It will give you the power. Do what I couldn't."
That was the last thing she ever said to me.
That night, he screamed at me for getting home so late, throwing my phone against the wall and shattering its screen. He'd been drinking, so it was easier to run and hide in my room until he passed out on the floor like he loved so much to do.
That was my chance.
I crept upstairs, taking time and wincing as some of the floorboards screamed beneath me, pulled down the staircase and climbed, pulling the stairs up behind me.
It took a few hours of searching, but I found it, hidden behind a mountain of boxes and random shit stored up from the years, covered in a thick layer of dust. It seemed so much smaller than it had all those years ago, but still bigger than what I'd imagine a music box would be. It was about the size of a shoebox.
And it was humming. Not loudly, but deeply, like something ancient sound asleep.
I set it down and stared at it for a while. My father had been so adamant; what if he found out? Would I join my mother?
Why had she looked so scared, at the end?
Heavy with dread, I hesitated, trembling and crying with fresh memories of my final moments with her, until finally fulfilling her wish.
Inside was a strange scene. There were no dancers; just an average man and a woman much smaller than him staring at each other. I wound the device, then set it on a box and scrunched up on the ground, wrapping my hoodie around my knees.
The saddest sound I've ever heard played, and the girl fell to her knees.
I don't know why, but the melody, the dissonance of it, brought me to tears. The girl crumpled, the man towering over her, striking her while down. The tears blurred my vision, and I wiped to keep watching. It was like a movie playing out before me, somehow, like the mechanical little people were alive.
The girl rose, the man winding back to strike her once more, but she pulled something blue out of her pocket, a striking cyan that glowed, and pressed it deep into his chest. It was his turn to crumple and wither on the ground like a dying flower.
The song ended with a loud click, and I jumped back, dropping the music box. It cracked open like an egg, and from within it spilled a glowing, cyan dagger streaked with black darker than a starless night. It felt warm and heavy in my hands. It felt powerful and--
"Katie? Where are you? What's that noise? You get down here right this instant, goddamnit," a voice called from below. My father's slurred voice.
I slipped the dagger into my hoodie pocket and went to answer his calls.
---
*/r/resonatingfury* | The phone service was down. The car had to be filled with gas. I don’t know how long my dad had. It was his second heart attack. The hospital was miles from here. We lived on a farm secluded from neighbors. When we heard the sound we both looked at each other. I looked at him with tears and fear and he looked at me with desperation.
“Don’t...don’t go up there son. Please i beg you.”
“Dad, it’s the only thing I can do. If we try anything else you die. Mom said I’ll know when to use it.”
“Son, some things are more important than life and death.”
I couldn’t think. I did not want to argue with him and waste time.
“Dad I have to. She knew what she was talking about.”
“I know what I’m talking about too son. You need to leave it closed and let me be. It’s ok. Everything will be ok.”
“I’m sorry dad”
I went to the stairs and made the ascent to the music box. “You Are My Sunshine” eerily played while my dad laid dying. It was strangely calming though. The song was my mom’s lullaby to me.
It felt so dreamlike and uncanny as I listened to the song and passed pictures of our family in the halls. Just my dad, my mom, and myself.
My mom died last year. Just a few days before my 18th birthday. It was a hard time. She had cancer and her long brown hair was fading away. On her deathbed, she begged me. “The music box upstairs. There will be a time when you need to open it. It will be a difficult time for you. It may seem strange why you should. You have to.” It was her last words.
Not even “ I love you”. I was confused and haunted by her words and the music box this whole time. I guess there’s always a time when love overcomes fear.
I reached the attic and approached the music box. It was still on my mom’s old desk. I approached it slowly and I could have sworn I heard a whisper within. It could have just been wind. As i got close enough to open it, the music stopped. I thought of my mom urging me to open it and my dad begging me not to. I took a deep breath.
“Sorry dad”
The next morning I woke up in the attic. I had no idea why I was there.
“Son! What are you doing here??” My dad asked.
“I have no idea” I looked down and I was holding an old music box.
“Whose is this dad?”
“I don’t know son, must belong to the family who was here before. C’mon, let’s eat breakfast”
We walked down together and my dad pointed to our family picture.
“You weird me out son. But it’ll always be me and you no matter what.” my dad jokingly said as he rubbed my bedhead.
I chuckled. The portrait was of my dad and I. I always wish I got to meet my mom, but she left when I was born. I got a lot of respect for my dad for not letting that ever get to him.
We sat down at the breakfast table and started grubbing.
“So there is nothing you remember son? Nothing at all? It’s ok if you were drinking. I wasn’t a saint at your age.”
I laughed. I started to think out loud. “Man I don’t remember anything. I do remember a dream though. A strange dream. Dad, was mom a brunette?”
“No” as he took a bite out of bacon. “She was a redhead. A bright redhead. Why do you ask?”
“I think I dreamt of a brunette. Staring at me. All she said was, ‘There are other ways of saying ‘I Love you’’”. | 2019-06-07T20:59:45 | 2019-06-07T20:02:55 | 495 | 95 |
[WP] You've been dating your partner for six months. Tonight they've invited you to a work event, and as you step onto the red carpet, you realize it for the first time: you're dating a celebrity. | As the car slowed in the lineup, I forgot to breathe. It was all beginning to make sense. I knew Talia was well-off, but the limousine seemed a little extravagant for a work outing. It made me a little uncomfortable to be in one of these, again. It had been so, so long-- a different time, a different life altogether. They'd seen to that.
But now it was all falling into place. The fancy clothes, how Talia kept reassuring me that everyone was going to love me. As the cameras flashed in a flurry, snapping the photos of the couple exiting the limo in front of us, it made sense. Not her workmates. The tabloids. The public.
My mouth went dry, and my pulse was racing. We were next. If I didn't get out, what would happen? Would the paparazzi just shoot through the darkened windows? What could they see? Could they make out my face well enough for them recognize it?
It had been seven years, but it wasn't long enough. I knew good and well they'd never forget, never stop looking. Seven years since my life ended, and I was charged with restarting from nothing. A new name, a new haircolor, a new history. If they'd been able to change my face, I'm sure they would have. But no, I still looked like me. The daughter of what was once a notorious mafia boss. My pretty little face, a little less lined with age and worry, had been plastered all over the papers when my testimony went public in the largest mafia bust to ever shake the Eastern seaboard.
Before the trial even went to court, the death threats had begun. I'd tried to be stubborn about it. Tried to hold my head high, and not let them scare me. It wasn't until I came home to that box on the balcony of my tiny apartment that I'd finally cracked and admitted I needed witness protection. I could still remember every detail of peeling open the brown cardboard. The smell that hit my nose as I stared down at the dark mass within. I didn't register what it was right away. Not until I recognized the collar.
"...Ana?" Talia looked to me, concern in her brown eyes as the car began to move forward. "What is it? Please, don't be nervous. The cameras may be a little extra in-our-faces since I've never walked the carpet with another woman before, but I promise. It's not really that big of a deal anymore. They'll get their debut photos and move on."
I barely heard her, my frame all but paralyzed as the car began to slow. It was our turn. "You said you were an executive," I breathed, barely able to find my voice.
"I-- Ana, the movie. It's called _The Executive._ You can't-- you knew, didn't you? Talia Elliot, my name is in all the..." Her voice trailed, perfect red lips hanging open for a moment in shock as she registered the sheer fear in my eyes. "You had no idea."
"I don't go out much, Tali," I whispered.
And that was all there was time for. The doors flew open, a smiling man in a tuxedo offering out a hand to help Talia from her seat. She looked back at me, brow furrowed with concern as she reached out to squeeze my hand. "We'll talk about it tonight. Don't worry, I'm right here with you. They're all going to love you, I promise!" And she rose, stepping out.
I sat frozen in my seat, the blinding flurry of camera flashes reducing her to little more than a silhouette in front of me. There was the briefest beat of an expectant pause as they waited for me to follow, before one of the more assertive paparazzo craned over the red velvet ropes that barred them from the carpet. I looked at him, eyes obscured by the camera, that black lens reflecting my pale, panicked face.
And then the flash went off, and I knew it was all over. | "I'll be at your Door at 4 sharp"
"Leila, you know I'm always on time" I said with as lovely a voice I could.
With a cute kiss over the phone, She hung up.
Who would've known that the Depressed and Broken lady on the public bus was the Lady destined to my dreams. Perfect for me, inside out. Purest of souls and softest of hearts. She made me understand what love actually is.
She finally decided to introduce me to her workplace. She said she works in the Music Industry, but doesn't like talking about it, and being the type of person I was, I didn't insist on her telling me.
Cut to the point, 3.55, I was out there expecting her to come in the Taxi, but the lonely road was indeed lonely. At exactly 3.58, I saw a silhouette of a car, but it wasn't a cab, so I didn't bother looking up. But when that Range Rover pulled up Infront of me, with the Lady of My Dreams in the Loveliest of dresses, I knew she was on time.
As surprised as I was, She looked confident, and refused to say anything other than one sentence.
"Jason, You wanted to know who I am. This is me."
Me being calm, didn't insist. Again.
The next thing we know, we are at the spot I have always seen merely in the Television. The Car comes to a pull, and I look around to see thousands of people Roaring around the Red Carpet, that lead to the Ball.
Being the Gentleman, I opened the door for my Lady, despite the fact that my Insides were shaking out of Nervousness. She came out Glamorously, and when the light of the camera Flashes hit her Face, I finally started to make sense of it.
The Lady who happened to need help in the public bus wasn't an everyday person. She was Leila Lovicich. The singer whose songs filled my Playlist.
No wonder she kept telling me to start watching Music Videos instead of merely having the songs in the Phone.
Snap back to the present, we were walking Arm in Arm, with the sounds of clicks and Screams for autographs. I felt Numb. Not sure if I was shocked or Nervous.
Then, at the end of the carpet, she looked at me and I heard her say
"Still love your Playlist?"
With no control over myself, I leapt onto her, and Kissed her, Only to find her kissing me back...
And Kids, That's how I met your Mom. | 2017-06-14T12:00:32 | 2017-06-14T07:58:26 | 372 | 195 |
[WP] Humanity has begun to explore the stars, but continually finds we are the most developed species, most alien species are still evolving. Suddenly, a message is transmitted to all human ships simultaneously, “WARDENS, DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND YOUR DUTY?” The signal itself is not of human origin. | After the 3rd "civilization" bearing planet, we started to think something was wrong. The orange and green one eyed three limbed natives were barely out of the stone age. It was the glyphs on their temples and monuments that started a concerned buzz among our onboard scientists. When we had a reliable translation and approximation for what they considered language, we asked them about them.
​
"What are these?" we neuro keyed excitedly into the translator drone, gesturing to a sterling example of the image in question. The high priest, Toenak or some such sound that a human mouth and not a sequence of colliding tentacles in concert with squished suckers could make, blinked his eye slowly.
​
"I do not understand, it's you." the translator said.
​
He pointed to our landed space ship and then to us. Upright, four limbed single headed two eyes.
​
The science team chatted amongst themselves excitedly. The ship computer got into the action putting it's machine intelligence into the conversation. Preparing the best response.
​
A channel to our mission command was opened and relayed to the other ships stationed on the previous two planets and finally to our starport in the lagrange point between the moon and the earth.
​
Near the star gate.
​
The gate we used to find these planets. The gate we reverse engineered to make our ships.
​
"Have we been here before?" was what our consensus was that the question should be. We were just about to ask it when all of our drones froze and communication was suddenly overridden.
​
“WARDENS, DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND YOUR DUTY?” blinked large across every display and sounded in every ear piece and out of every speaker.
​
Our technologists frantically back traced the origin of the signal, digging through the code to work out what the heck had just grabbed root access to our entire communication system. Wide eyes and just saw a ghost faces reported in to command and all officers. "That's not coming from us." they said.
​
Then in the skies above the planets we had just landed on, red angry holes opened up. Tears through which scores of unidentified ships began pouring into real space.
​
"PROTECT LIFE." Was the last signal despite our best attempts to control our comms.
​
With no other option, we turned our attention to the coming tide of clearly hostile space craft.
​
There was nothing out there to stop them. But us. | “Wardens, do you not understand your duty?” The transmission of unknown origin broadcasted on all Star Cruisers from the 8th fleet coming back from a trade mission on the tribal planet 072/12. Slight panic broke out amongst Contact Officers trying to find out the source of the message and confirming the broadcast of the message on all of their ships. One of the Junior Scribes of Cruiser 12A in a fit of anxiety rushed to captains quarters to turn off his cryostasis pod. Captain Adams slowly woke up, stretched his limbs and without acknowledging the young scribes existance calmly walked to the command deck. “What’s going on here?” Said Captain to Chief Contact Officer. “Sir, we’ve received a message from an unknown source, we managed to track it down to the nearby star. It was something about some wardens and not understanding duty... i have no idea what that means” said officer. “Eh, I guess we couldn’t run forever. Listen, I am gonna need you to fire up the engines and full speed ram into that star. It seems like we have a meeting scheduled”
It’s one of my first attempts, tell me what you think of it, constructive criticism would be cool. | 2019-05-08T15:32:36 | 2019-05-08T14:21:07 | 37 | 22 |
[WP] You are a former secret agent, now retired; today, you just found the beautiful and dangerous femme fatale that always tried to kill you at a pizza parlor, dressed in a nerdy hoodie and eating an extra-large pizza. | On a typical Thursday, I wandered into Dave's for a late lunch. The bell on the door rang to alert the store of a hungry customer. The parlor wasn't particularly busy around this hour and I liked the quiet as I gorged myself. Honestly, for how good Dave is, he could have a national chain.
As I entered, I was surprised to see another customer at this hour. She sat towards the back of the restaurant, reading something on a tablet with a pair of earbuds in while slurping down a carbonated drink. She wore a stained, baggy hoodie with my alma mater's name on the front, with gorgeous dark brown hair down to her shoulders. She was wearing a pair of oversized glasses, propped up gently at the tip of her nose.
I got goosebumps on my arms. Even though she let herself go at the moment, I'd recognize that face through a tactical scope any day of the week.
"Here you go ma'am. Extra large pepperoni and mushrooms with extra cheese."
Dave cleared some space on her table and set the piping hot pizza in front of the lady. She thanked him and tied her hair in a top knot before digging in.
I walked up to the counter.
"Well if it isn't my favorite customer! What will it be today?"
"Hey Dave. The usual three slices. And a lemonade."
"Right away, sir." Dave replied, as he hustled to the kitchen.
After ordering, I took another peek to my left. Somehow in that time she had already finished a slice of pizza and was well into her second. I wanted to leave her alone, for my own sake. But it was too strange. I needed more intel.
I took a gulp and walked towards her, sneaking a fork from one of the tables and hiding it in my sleeve. Better safe than sorry.
"Evelyn?"
Evelyn took out her earphones and gazed at me. For a brief moment, time slowed to a crawl as her pupils dilated at a familiar sight. She quickly looked away and continued eating.
"What are you doing here?" Evelyn muffled, mouth stuffed with pizza.
".. Work." I lied. Surely the word hadn't spread about my retirement just yet right?
"Yeah? You seemed pretty chummy with the owner."
Dammit. Nothing slips by you, does it. Focus on your damn book.
"I've been in the area for a while doing surveillance. I just happen to like the pizza here. What about you?" I retorted.
".. Vacation." She went for another slice of pizza.
"Really now? Where'd you get that sweatshirt? It looks pretty worn."
"It's a disguise, dumbass. I still have a pretty high profile and I'm not exactly welcome in this city."
"Don't I know it..." I remarked, as I sat down opposite to her, fork still at the ready.
"Still, why vacation in a city- country even, that you're wanted in?"
"I like to live dangerously." Evelyn smiled, as she took another sip of her beverage.
Dave came back with my order, a lemonade and three slices of Hawaiian-Margherita pizza. Evelyn looked at the dish with visible disgust.
"You two know each other?" He inquired.
".. Yeah. Something like that."
"Hahaha. I'll let you two catch up." He winked and nudged me. I turned around to see if he was out of hearing range before I turned back to Evelyn. I picked up a slice and we ate in silence.
Thoughts raced in my head as I tried to understand how it was possible for Evelyn to be here. I frantically tried to recall any mistakes I might have made on my way out, but nothing came to mind. After a little while, I decided that I'd have to do a little more questioning.
"Cut the bullshit, Evelyn. What are you actually doing here?"
"What, Kevin? You think I have some personal vendetta against you or something?"
"I wouldn't be surprised. I just don't happen to believe your vacation happens to be where I was assigned."
"And I don't believe your mission assignment ended up where I wanted to relax. In fact, a little birdie told me.. there's no mission here at all. At least, not one that would require your.. expertise."
I froze up as she locked eyes with me again. There's no way my retirement leaked this soon. I'm going to have to let Xia know there's a mole.
"How many?"
Evelyn laughed. "Come on Kevin. I'm on *vacation*. Can't we talk about something else other than work, hmm?"
"I've never known you to be one for small talk."
All of a sudden, Evelyn got up, handed Dave a 20, and turned around back towards me.
"Well Kevin, nice to see you again. Best of luck on your... job, and enjoy the pizza. You can box the rest of mine if you'd like." She gave me a sly grin before walking to the exit and putting up her hood.
"Oh, I'll be in town till the 24th. Maybe we'll cross each other again."
The bell tolled once more marking her departure.
I knew that grin all too well. I rushed to the bathroom and pushed my finger down my throat at the toilet. My precious pizza came hurdling back. Better safe than sorry.
Two more weeks of this shit? Guess I can't come to Dave's for a while. | " ’Don't you think that's a little bit too much for you, Larone? ’ I said and took a seat right in front of her. She checked me for a milisecond, and kept chewing her bite. "
"Woah, that's so cool!" the kids cheered.
"What she did was even cooler. She said 'Never too much for a cover, Sarge.' while her mouth was full, trying to make me feel unsignificant for her presence."
"It's like a game of chess! And, then? What you said?"
"Well, I had to stay strong. I found her after all, right? I had the higher ground. So I threw some detective work over that extra-large pizza and made a move, which were punished after by her sinister lips."
"What did you say?" the boy asked with shiny eyes.
"I took a deep breath to set-up my move and words swimmed through. 'Perhaps you're waiting for someone, huh?' at this point, she owed me an answer, and she did give a big one." he took a big sip from his cigar and continued in joy.
"She, without hesitation, looked at my eyes and said, 'Not anymore.' and pushed the pizza towards me."
"I really wanna be like my mom one day! " the girl said all of a sudden. The parents' eyes met and they knew it was time to end the talk.
"We really have to be cops, sis!" the boy yelled in amazement.
"Alright, kids. That's how I met your mother. Now give some lone time mom and pap." he said and kids walked towards them. Both the parents kissed the children on their forehead and they left the room. The parents stayed in silence for a while, until Sarge couldn't make it.
"Oh, stop that, Larone."
"Stop what?"
"That sinister grin on your face. I hate when you do that."
"Hmm? Does it remind you of our past, 'Sarge?' You know it didn't happen like that, right?"
"Well, what do you want me to say? That you destroyed an entire pizza parlor, almost killed both of us?"
"Well, you know, when I really want something, I get in a state that I can do anything to get it."
"Yeah, that's how you got me caged here."
"Caged? Shall I remind you the days you begged for my love, or you begged for mercy?"
"Shall I remind you a million cases that you caused while you were chasing me?"
"Well, as I said, when I really want something, I do anything to get it."
"And that's what I like about you. I'm glad that you couldn't kill me though."
"Couldn't?"
"Well, unless you count marriage as a way of killing."
"Or having two children that think we are cops."
"I know, right."
Silence covered the room once again, this time the grin wasn't there either.
"Do you still miss those days?"
"Well, the thrill of being hunted? the last breath of the victims? the blood in my knife?" she said with enthusiasm and he gave the weird looks.
"No, definitely not." she said.
He got up the chair and left his cigar in the ashtable.
"Alright, go wear that nerdy hoodie of yours. Let's go get some pizza in the same place." after a few seconds of waiting, he added.
"Well, in the same pizza parlor but in another place, obviously."
"And that's what I like about you. You always find something to bring me joy."
"By staying alive, that is." they both giggled.
They both got dressed and left the house, leaving their parent identities at home, and taking their guns with them. | 2019-10-05T09:55:33 | 2019-10-05T09:22:09 | 229 | 22 |
[WP]Both of your parents made deals with fae about giving them their firstborn. Different fae... Now you live under the joint custody of two faeries who don't like this situation one bit. | "Where the hell is this woman?" Kasia frowned and looked up at the sky.
As if on cue, Julie came racing through the opening of the cave and collapsed on the ground in exhaustion. "I'm.......here........" she said in between gasps.
"You're fifteen minutes late!"
"Yeah yeah, I'm sorry! I got lost on the path of lif-"
"Dammit Julie! You're always late!"
"Well this time I actually got lost!" Julie stood up with a huff. "Literally, the path of life had road work again and I got lost."
Kasia stared blankly at the other fae for a few seconds before loosing her last piece of self control. "YOU HAVE WINGS!"
"You know how tiring it is to fly everywhere! That's like asking a mortal to run everytime they need to be somewhere!"
She sighed and rubbed her temple to ward off the headache she could feel coming on. "Julie... We're both taking care of this child. I want to trust you, so I need you to be more responsible before I give you Stella again."
"What?"
"She'll stay with me until I can trust you."
Julie's eyes widened and she practically snarled at the older fae. "You can't do that! This is my first mortal child! I'm just inexperienced is all..."
"And late."
"Ohhhh nooo I'm late! How horrible!"
Kasia sighed in annoyance. She should have checked to make sure the mortal she made a contract with didn't screw another mortal with a contract with another fae.... A young, fresh out of university fae. Julie was skilled in magic and manipulation of humans, yes, but by Gods was she disorganized and not ready for the responsibility of a child. Babies, human ones especially, needed proper routines and mental nurturing in order to grow up into the law abiding, tree hugging beings she knew they could be. That's why she took people's first borns and that's why she despised sharing custody with Julie. The girl was either going to accidentally kill the baby or she was going to raise it to be just as idiotic as her.
"-nd the courts said you and I have to share custody so you better give her to me or so help me Gods I'll-"
Julie's rant was suddenly cut off by a gasp from the other woman. "Wait! You're not much different from a human child!"
She looked taken aback. "Excuse me?"
Kasia did a mental happy dance before clearing her throat and smiling kindly. "You know what? You're right. You do have custody and I'm not being fair."
The younger girl looked completely baffled by the sudden change of her older co-parent's attitude.
"Move in with me."
Julie's jaw dropped for s few moments before she managed to form words. "Um... No."
"Julie. Move in with me for six months. Let me teach you how to care for the baby properly so I can in turn, learn to trust you."
She quickly regained her composer and cleared her throat. As stupid as this idea was, she figured six months out of the eighteen years she'd spend raising Stella wouldn't hurt. Kaisa was controlling, so getting her way would make Julie's life a million times easier. All she had to do was put up with her for six months and she'd be off her back after that.
"You know what? Fine.. I'm in."
"Wonderful!" Kasia did her best to not smirk in satisfaction. That little fairy would bend to her ways, whether she wanted to or not.
Edit: grammar/spelling | “You live past the place no one goes, getting the child to you on your visitation days is going to be a nightmare...a literal goblin infested nightmare journey!”, said Hilea the maiden fairy of the Anderall Forrest.
Tilea, the peculiar fairy maiden of Bak’Tulgurr, the land of brimstone and ash, floated about with a patch of glee on her face that nary a dark spell produced by the Master Necromancer herself could even wipe off!
Tilea was floating around a small garden collecting frogs for her “toad collection”. Hilea had spent an entire summer trying to explain the differences between frogs and toads to Tilea but to no avail.
Tilea looked up from her “ toad collecting” and finally noticed that Hilea had been talking to her this entire time, but instead of asking Hilea to repeat herself, she asked Hilea a question.
“Do you think the child will like fire, and rune magic, and all the interesting things that go on around where I live?” , Tilea asked curiously.
Hilea’s face was red with frustration, she calmed herself, reminding herself of the charm the Dark Wizard Markhan’ai placed on Tilea to make her oblivious to the dreadful nature of the land she was tasked with overseeing.
This would be an interesting arrangement, this “joint-partnership between mutual beings to which they are both bound to a single child for all eternity” or as the Women and Men folk call it, “ Joint custody”. Hilea sat on a lily pad and just watched her cousin float around , shrinking frogs and putting them in her wicker basket.
However, little did Hilea know, Markhan’ai the dread Wizard, had plans for the child himself...and it would take all of her cunning as the Fae of the Great Forrest Anderall, to assure her newly adopted child would lead a happy life, free from the vileness of dark magic. | 2021-05-14T06:27:59 | 2021-05-14T06:03:17 | 188 | 12 |
[WP] Ever since you were young, your grandpa played horrifying pranks on you to scare you when nobody was around. Now that he's passed away, you read through his diary and realized - He's not the one who played them, he's the one who stopped them from taking your life.
Edit: Wow, thanks for the awards, didn't expect this prompt to resonate with so many people. All of us sure had a rough childhood, eh? | Oliver closed the journal. His heart thundered against his lungs and made it hard to breathe. *No.* This couldn’t be true.
Could it?
He glanced around his grandfather’s study. It felt wrong to even be in this room, let alone sitting at his desk. His grandfather was a strange man—light-hearted in some ways and deadly serious in others. He’d joke and laugh around the family, but if any one of Oliver or his twin sister, Clara, or cousins even got close to this room… well, they could expect an earful and a long timeout.
He’d written it off as an old man’s quirkinesses. Clara thought it was something more twisted.
“How much d’you want to bet he’s doing something illegal?” she’d asked Oliver once in their teens.
Oliver scoffed. “Come on.”
“What? He could be running a Ponzi scheme for all we know.”
Oliver had a hard time imagining their grandfather who loved tea and reading and tending to his rhododendrons running a Ponzi scheme. Even if he did pull the occasional cruel prank on Oliver—pranks which he never pulled on Clara or their cousins.
In all honesty, Oliver was half convinced the man hated him. It seemed the most likely explanation as to why he kept pulling the ‘pranks’ long after Oliver had begged him to stop. He remembered with painful clarity how he’d nearly peed his pants after a dark figure tried to drag him under the lake one summer. Even after his grandfather announced it was just a prank, Oliver couldn’t stop sobbing.
But this journal? Oliver felt cold, despite the fire crackling warmly behind him. Everything was different. All the pieces were shifting into place. It made sense now—at first, he hadn’t understood why his grandfather had left everything in his study to Oliver.
His grandfather didn’t hate him. He was trying to protect him.
His head was still reeling and his heart was still pounding when the bookshelf started to shift.
Oliver snapped up from his seat. The bookshelf twisted oddly, as if he were looking at it through a whirlpool filter. A noise like a rush of wind swirled through the study; the curtains shook and the floorboards rattled.
And as quickly as it started, it stopped.
In the middle of the study stood a man in a dark coat. He had blond-red hair that stuck up wildly l, as if he’d just come in from a wind storm. Which, Oliver reasoned, he had.
The man turned to Oliver and swept over him with his eyes. “Well, you’re certainly not what I expected.”
Oliver sputtered. “What the hell is *that* supposed to mean? Who even are you?”
The man didn’t answer Oliver’s questions; he simply took a place on the settee under the south window and crossed one leg over the other knee. He reached a long and spindly finger to the candle on the side table. The flame flared to life without a spark.
Oliver felt his jaw drop. It might’ve been comical if he wasn’t feeling the cool chill of shock crawl over his body.
“I was hoping Richard would leave us with someone more...impressive.”
Despite his shock, Oliver blanched. “Hey,” he said weakly and looked down at himself.
“Your grandfather kept you too sheltered, if you ask me,” the man continued as if Oliver hadn’t spoken. “I kept telling him that you’d have to know at one point or another, but no-oo that wasn’t good enough for him. And now here you are—a child.”
Oliver frowned. “I turned twenty last month.”
The man shook his head. “And yet you have nothing by way of practical skills.”
“I mean, I can cook and stuff.” Oliver flattened his mouth into a line and gathered his courage. “Look, who are you and what the *fuck* are you doing here?”
The man sighed and stood. He came toward Oliver and stuck out his hand. “I’m Kelland, pleasure to meet you.” His exasperated expression softened. “And I am sorry for your loss. Richard was a great man.”
“He was,” Oliver repeated softly. He’d realized it too late. But he couldn’t think about that now. “I still don’t understand why you’re here.”
“I’m your mentor, I guess you could say. Or guide, if that sounds too formal.” Kelland dug his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Either way—let me be the first to congratulate you on your new role as protector of the magical realm.”
---
r/liswrites | Honestly? My grandpa was kind of a dick.
He had to have known. I've said it so many times: I absolutely hated his pranks. They were horrifying, they were unpleasant, and they kept coming. Every single time I had to enter his house, I felt the curtain of dread that hung over it, draping itself further and further every step I took, nearly drowning and suffocating me in near-paralyzing fear.
Loud, horrifying bellows. Unidentified secretions and liquids coating my skin when I woke. Constantly mocking my frame and assaulting me with unwitting pinches and jabs.
So, when the news came that he died, forgive me if I didn't shed a tear. Only seeing my mother, broken down and weary, elicited a few drops from me.
But they weren't for grandpa.
We had to go to his house. One last time. And as always, that ominous curtain continued to drape over the entire property.
It's OK, I reassured myself. He's no longer here.
We entered the house, already caked with dust despite his recent passing. My parents went to his room, sometimes laughing and sometimes sobbing, reminiscing about the silly old man's antics.
I found that my legs had other ideas. Up creaking steps and down long hallways, they walked by themselves, while my mind absent-mindedly wandered, thinking about everything that had happened here.
Before long, I found myself in the attic. The grime here was somehow even more filthy, coating every available surface.
Morbid curiosity overtook me as I began to dig and search. What did I want to find? Hope to find? I didn't know. I just wanted to find something. To prove that all along, I was the one in the right.
A leather-bound book. I undid the clasp. Scribbled text dominated every page. A few sentences in, it was obvious that it was a diary. Grandpa's one, in fact.
But how could this be a diary? How could a journal detailing the exact times and dates when he fought off all manners of dastardly creatures like ghosts, ghouls, phantoms, and pixies be real? How could one's plans for defeating these spectres be so thoroughly detailed and painfully executed?
How could the lines where he wrote about how much he loved me be true?
But I read and devoured every sentence. Until the very last line:
"I hope he's strong enough now."
The 'now' devolved into mere scrawl, like a man's last desperate scratches on a concrete wall.
And then I heard it.
A loud, horrifying bellow. A scream, from my pa and ma. Then, silence.
I felt my skin crawl. I frantically scanned the attic, nervously hugging the book to my chest.
Honestly? I still don't appreciate what he did. Can't, more like.
But damn it. Maybe it's time to try one of those crazy, crazy plans he had written.
What's the worst thing that could happen, after all?
---
r/dexdrafts | 2020-10-13T09:02:26 | 2020-10-13T08:59:59 | 236 | 71 |
[WP] Whenever a child turns 18 everyone else in the world disappears in their eyes apart from their soulmate, everyone comes back when you find them. You wake up on your 18th birthday and everyone is still here. | ######[](#dropcap)
"I don't know if I can do this."
"You're going to, believe me."
"I really don't think I can."
"On the count of three."
"Oh God, no no no."
"One."
"Wait, wait, let's just walk down."
"Two."
"Really, isn't it just the swimming part we're looking forward to? Who needs the..."
"Three!"
Jacky grabbed Paul by the hand and ran with him just a touch behind her, straight off the edge of the quarry. As they fell in the dark, Paul finished his sentence, "Jumping!", in an extended scream.
They hit the refreshingly cool water side by side, and bobbed to the surface. Jacky let out an excited yell, and Paul smiled in spite of himself, treading water.
"What did you think?!" Jacky was all smiles, her freckles showing even in the moonlight, brought out by the day's sun.
Paul was soft spoken and reserved, and jumping off that cliff - and it *was* technically a cliff - was easily the most terrifying thing he'd ever done. He did not say that. Instead he nodded his head like he was on the edge of agreement with an obscure rhetorical point, and lied. "It wasn't that bad."
Jacky sidled up to him in the water, smirking. "Are you lying to me Paul?"
Paul liked this game. They played it a lot, because Paul was afraid of most things and Jacky afraid of nothing, and the two spent a lot of time together. Paul pursed his lips and shook his head, as if he was being asked whether he remembered where he put a set of stolen jewels. *What jewels officer?* "No, I quite enjoyed it actually."
Jacky got even closer. Her smile broadening at first, and then straightening out, not into a frown, but something else. "Are you sure Paul?"
Paul felt that tension between them, the one that threatened to complicate everything - the same one they'd kept firmly at bay for almost two years. But now here they were, in their underwear, floating in the quarry, under the moonlight, alone. Paul swallowed. "I'm sure."
They looked into each others eyes, their bodies bobbing slightly in the water, there legs and arms brushing past each other as they each flailed about lightly to remain afloat. Jacky came even closer then, closer than she'd ever been to him, her face right in front of his, her hair slick and wet, falling in strands, here and there over her eyes. Right then, they both knew they were on the verge of a momentous occasion, perhaps long in the making, almost assured to have tragic ramifications.
But, for all the gold in Fort Knox, neither could make themselves veer from the course they now plotted together.
Jacky whispered "Me too," and, leaning in to bridge the final inch, her lips met his, and then they were kissing.
The kiss seemed to last forever, and neither of them had ever enjoyed a kiss more in their whole lives. Jacky started smiling in the middle of it, and Paul got so distracted by the kiss that he literally forgot they were floating in the quarry, and tried to bring Jacky closer to him, only to sink like a stone when he stopped treading.
Beneath the cool water, the terrible reality of the kiss struck home, and when Paul came back to the surface, he was no longer smiling. Jacky looked him in the eyes and immediately joined him in that painful place. Without a word, side by side, they paddled to shore and then laid out together on the artificial sandy beach.
Laying there together, each was consumed with the same concern. Paul was turning 18 tonight, in just a couple of hours now, and Jacky would turn 18 two weeks after that. The two of them had been best friends for most of their childhood, and for the last couple of years, each had developed a different set of feelings for the other. But neither had allowed them to flourish, because both understood the extreme unlikelyhood of it all working out. After all, what were the chances that they were each other's soul mates? The current global population was over 7 billion people.
No, they were best friends, and only best friends, and that was how they would keep it.
Until tonight. Until the kiss in the quarry. They'd opened the seal at the eleventh hour, and now they waited - Paul to be alone, Jacky to be invisible.
It was a warm night, and comfortable. The two friends lay in the sand together, side by side, holding hands, waiting for statistical inevitability to separate them. There in the soft, pillowy white sand, they fell asleep.
Paul was awoken by the rising sun, it's edge tipping over the horizon. He no longer held anyone's hand, and was curled on his side, away from where Jacky was laying.
Now he began to shake, every fiber of his being filled with remorse. He lay there, facing the quarry, cursing whatever cruel power ruled over him. Who was *It* to say who his soulmate was? Who was it to take Jacky away from him? What kind of system was this? Overcome with emotion, he began to cry bitter tears. Still unwilling to turn around, he just sobbed into the sand.
His sobs awoke Jacky, who herself was curled into a little ball facing Paul's back. She too began to cry, quietly, without a sound. There he was, 18, and she invisible to him. It was almost too tragic to handle. In a final, futile gesture, though she knew well enough it would have no effect, Jacky reached out her small hand and lay her delicate fingers on Paul's back.
Paul's sobbing stopped immediately, replaced with tears of exaltation. He rolled around.
********
##### For More Legends From The Multivers
##### r/LFTM | It was the moment I had long feared; losing all my loved ones until a chance encounter with a specific "soul mate". Sleep eluded me for hours the night before. My friends and my family, my mentor and my boyfriend (casual, he wasn't 18 yet and refused to be more until he knew for sure), most if not all would be gone for an indeterminate stretch of time. Just because one person was supposed to be most important, and I was somehow supposed to find them despite not being able to interact with the rest of the world. What if when we finally met, something terrible had happened to my abuela and I had not been able to say goodbye? What if the solitude got to me before we met? Depression is cruel sometimes.
Somehow, when I woke up, all was forgotten. All the worry the night, day, week, month, eternity before did not register. Like a neglectful parent in movies with magical children, I had forgotten the birthday. Just like any other day, my alarm jolted me awake, I tossed on whatever clothes were clean, did my depression-fighting self-kindess exercises in the mirror, and grabbed an apple for breakfast on my way out the door. Mom did not look up from her newspaper. Her knitted eyebrows and drawn mouth expressed her tension; was the news that bad today? Dad was back on his coffee habit too; work stress? They hated talking about their struggles though, so as I left I just said, "Love you guys!" At their shocked stares, I quipped, "What? Sometimes you guys are okay!" And I hurried off.
At school, everything was normal. It was not until second period, writing the date on a test, that I realized something was wrong. Stomach churning, I glanced at my teacher. She was there. So were my classmates. As far as I was aware, everyone was.
That test probably earned a failing grade. The squicky question of which parent had entered my field of vision first provided ample distraction. My only solace was my certainty I had seen both at once. No one had two soulmates. But then, who had I seen before then?
"Maybe it's not just the birthday but the birth time," my best friend said at lunch when I told her. I shrugged. As I helped her maneuver her chair around the cafeteria, she continued, "Do you know when that was?"
"No idea. Besides, people always say it's when you wake up."
We settled at our usual table and she locked her wheels. "Did you look out the window? Maybe your soulmate's a neighbor! Ooh, was it that cute jogger?"
Laughing despite my grim mood, I said, "Nope, though maybe I should have tried. Tyrell can't blame me for looking, especially since he's not ready yet."
"So you haven't told him?"
I shook my head. "You know how dramatic he is. I wanted to figure this out first."
"Let me know when you do. Man, I though 'sweet sixteens' were rough. Glad I have until September."
Patting her shoulder, I said, "You'll be fine. Sweetheart like you has to have someone."
Her frown told me what she would say before her words did. "You better not be thinking you don't have someone."
"I dunno..."
"Listen! You have been working too hard to beat your depression for this to bring you down."
"It's a big deal! I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life with someone who apparently doesn't exist!"
"Maybe not. Maybe you're just supposed to spend it with all of us."
We stared at each other for several seconds before I whispered, "My goodness..."
She grinned, laughed once, tears collecting in here eyes. We hugged, and she whispered, "We're all your soulmate."
I nodded, knowing it to be true. I loved everyone. The idea of not seeing a person had terrified me so much because people were so dear to me. This thought buoyed me through the day and all the way home, through my parents' confused questioning and my own self-doubt. It was simply the way the world worked proving that the world was meant for my love. That night, I almost skipped my self-kindness exercise, feeling so worthy I did not need it. But maintaining mental health practices being important, I did so anyway and came face-to-face with the first person I was able to see on my 18th birthday. | 2018-03-23T20:40:54 | 2018-03-23T20:30:16 | 682 | 86 |
[WP] Only you can see the thread that connects people to their soulmate. You've never told anyone and if you have a thread you can't see it. Today you caught someone staring at you when you asked they said, with tears in their eyes: "You are the only person I've seen with no soulmate." | For the longest time, I had no idea what the strings were. All I knew was how they were shooting out from people's hearts and dashing off into the universe.
I remembered the first time I ever saw the end of one of the strings; when young Nancy started in my class, and my friend John's string beamed out to her. From his heart to hers. Even then I hadn't quite figured out what it meant. But as I grew older, it became more evident. I couldn't even be mad at Danny, when he cheated on me in high school. His string led straight to the other girl - as much as I wanted to hate him for my heartbreak, I was happy for them. I had realized that the strings were indicators of something bigger than myself; soulmates. Yet no one else seemed to know about them.
​
It felt like a blessing for years. My sister, Betty, had found her boyfriend Edward, and even the simplest touch, would make their shared string light up as if electricity ran through it. It was a beautiful sight. I couldn't see my own string, but I was sure that Tom was my soulmate. The end of his string would disappear midair - I assumed it was because it turned into mine. And even though electricity didn't run through some string between us, I could feel it tingling all over my body when we were near. I was as sure as I could be.
But when the war came around, things changed.
Edward and Tom both signed up.
Betty was losing her mind over not hearing any updates. The radio was always going on about how many of our men were lost in battle. But never who. Never who. The worst part was sitting in the living room with her that one night. The string shooting out to Edward on the other side of the world started dissolving. Fragments started to vanish. She was chipping on about how excited she was to hear back from him, she had sent him a letter! But suddenly she stopped mid sentence. For a split second, she couldn't shake the feeling.
The last fragment of her string was gone.
But she never realized what had happened that evening. She never heard back from Edward. I couldn't tell her why. No matter how many years passed, she never gave up on finding him. Our parents couldn't convince her to marry anyone else. Of course, they didn't understand her love for him - they were never meant to be. They lived their entire lives, never finding their true loves. But when you had had the chance of knowing your soulmate, there was no going back.
Tom never returned from the war either. Presumed dead. Like all the other men. But I never knew. Because even though I could see the strings of everyone around me dissolving, I was never able to see mine.
The war was a different time. It was a lousy time. Every day, I would see fewer strings on the street. Nothing could prepare me for the sight of all the pale faces, staring into the distance. Life was a treadmill. All the women grocery shopping with their children, without any strings were cruel. It was a bleak, empty world.
​
But my youth disappeared with time. I was sitting in a small coffee shop, with some old records I had found from the library. Even after all these years, I was still searching for closure. I was still searching for Tom's name. I never knew for sure what had happened to him. I never even knew if he truly died.
When I glanced up, I caught the eyes of a young girl staring at me from another table. Her eyes were glistening with tears. She couldn't have been older than eleven or twelve. Perhaps, I reminded her of a recently deceased grandmother? I would be surprised if there was even a single red strand left in the gray haystack on top of my head. I never had children of my own, but if I had, I could've been a grandmother by now.
But she wasn't looking at my face or my hair. She was looking at my heart.
"What is wrong, dear?" I asked the girl.
She looked down, almost afraid to answer.
"It's just… It's silly," she mumbled, tears still welling up into her small, blue eyes.
"I'm sure I've heard sillier things," I assured her.
"You're the only person I've seen with no soulmate." she admitted.
I smiled. She was the first I'd ever heard talk about the strings. But my surprise was lesser than my glee.
"Don't be sad, dear." I chuckled. "That's a good thing. It means the world is improving."
It truly was. The only wars going on, were the ones replaying in the minds of my generation.
And now I knew. If I didn't have a string, it must've meant that Tom had found his peace.
If I was truly the first person without a soulmate this young girl had seen, it could only mean that the world was getting less lousy each day.
I closed my book. | I'm not even surprised.
Truth be told, I like to mess with people in the worst way. Sure I can see the glowing pink lasso that connects them to their soulmate, but I definitely wouldn't consider myself a cupid.
Without the dark, there is no light, yadda yadda yadda.
What makes this world great is the struggle for what we desire, the complex things that make us human.
Shakespeare, Van Gogh, Hamlet!
I find nothing to be more beautiful than the somber look on my girlfriend, Gina's face after we have dinner with her sister, Leila and her new boyfriend, Cody.
I can tell she feels the connection to Cody, that I can physically see.
Shame.
The best part is, I pump up the romance, and she gives me the guiltiest, most fantastical lay of my life that night!
I'm a pro, I've been doing this my whole life.
Too bad tonight is a little different.
I'm riding on a high because I just convinced my best friend to ghost this new co-ed he's been seeing. She's the one, but he's too drunk to siphon through my bullshit.
We had just arrived at bar #3 for the evening. It's the kind of place that lets you shotgun a beer, a real dive.
Through the crowd, who do I see? None other than Leila, kissing some guy, that's not Cody!
I immediately have to run interference, because duh!
Cody will not be single on my watch.
Leila spots me right away, pushes the guy off her, runs over to me and says "I'm sorry", then runs out of the bar.
I give chase.
It doesn't take me long to corner her in a local park on the playset.
Good Lord, she's crying.
"What are you doing?!" I command.
She's sniffling, and it's the most adorably pitiful thing I've ever seen.
She's heaving like a squirrel lost in some headlights.
"I don't want to talk to you!" She screams.
My Mom told me if I counted to five silently, the person I wanted an answer from would eventually give it to me.
People hate silence.
She starts to talk after only three proper seconds, "I know what you see, I can see it too. I know what you're doing with Gina and Cody. I know Cody and I don't belong together, but I can't help it. I love him. Besides, I don't have a soulmate, so why should anyone else! You get it, you don't have one either!"
She doesn't realize she does have a soulmate, but one of the many curses to this gift is you can't see it on yourself. I can see her pink lasso, trailing far off into the distance.
Ugh, screw it. I can't listen to her blubbering any longer.
"You have a soulmate! I can see your lasso." I mutter reluctantly.
"I do?"
I nod.
Her eyes take on the same glaze as my dog's when he wants food.
"Will you help me find them?"
I roll my eyes.
Barf, another hopeless romantic, pitifully begging for a hookup.
"Fine, but I need you to run interference on Cody, so I can keep Gina.", I'm no fool.
"Deal!"
We shake.
​ | 2018-12-11T13:33:19 | 2018-12-11T11:49:42 | 43 | 15 |
[WP] The year is 2040, and you are the last smoker alive. The "Quit Smoking" ads get personal. | Sam's alarm clock clicked on like it did every morning, playing the local sports talk radio station.
"Good morning, Sam! It's a beautiful day out there. Just the kind of day to finally drop that nasty habit. With NicoNever patches, you can finally move on with your life. No more dirty looks. Your teeth will whiten, and you can finally breathe that fresh air. NicoNever patches. They'll save your life," the clock radio blared.
Sam groaned into his pillow. He groped for the clock, hitting the snooze button. *Maybe today should be the day*, Sam thought. *At least it would get everyone off my back.*
The alarm clock kicked on again, this time with a perfectly timed ad for Just Quit gum, flavored with Sam's favorite cherry flavoring. Sam climbed out of bed, and shut the clock off. He showered, and dressed, then hopped on his laptop to check his Facebook before heading to work.
"SMOKING SUPPORTS TERRORISM, SAM," one of the sponsored posts at the top of his feed read. Sam rolled his eyes. He snapped his laptop shut, and lit up a cigarette out of spite. Halfway through the cigarette, Sam checked his watch. "Shit," he said aloud. He crushed out the cigarette, and jogged out of the house to his bus stop.
He made it just as the bus arrived.
"Surprised you can even jog, Sam. What with your-" Sam flashed his bus pass and walked past the driver lecturing him. Sam took a seat in the back.
"What's that smell, Mom?" a little girl in the seat in front of him asked.
"That's the smell of Sam trying to kill himself, sweetheart," the little girl's mother answered.
A small head popped up over the seat in front of him, looking Sam straight in the eye. "Why do you want to kill yourself Mr. Sam?" she asked innocently.
"I don't. I just like to relax with a cigarette sometimes," Sam answered. "But some self-righteous people really think that it's their job to tell me how to live. Do you know what self-righteous means?"
The mother picked the little girl up, and moved to another seat, glaring at Sam.
Sam went to work, where he endured more constant chastisement for his 'bad habit.' He couldn't smoke at work, that had been outlawed long ago. Same as smoking in bars, restaurants, parks, open spaces, and, ultimately, anywhere that wasn't a personal residence. But during long, trying mornings, like the one Sam was having, he snuck out behind the building to have a quick smoke.
Sam was letting out a deep breath of smoke when one of his co-workers stepped out.
"Hey Sam," Penny said. Sam moved quickly to hide his cigarette. "Don't worry about it," she continued. "Most of us already know you sneak out here sometimes."
Sam slumped his shoulders, then took another drag. "So are you here to tell me to quit too?"
"No," she said. "Just getting some fresh air. Been a shitty morning. Figured no one else would be out here on account of, well, you."
Sam smiled. Her honesty was refreshing.
After a couple minutes of silence, Penny spoke. "Why don't you quit? It must be exhausting to have everyone on your case all the time."
"It is," Sam answered. "I've definitely thought about it. I even thought about it this morning. But something about it all just rubs me the wrong way. I'm not hurting anybody, no matter what everyone claims, and I'm not supporting terrorism. I'm just smoking a cigarette. Yes, it might cause me to die from cancer, but I get to make that choice for myself. I guess I keep doing it to hold on to that little bit of freedom."
"Or rebellion," Penny observed.
"Or that. But fuck it, that's my call too. It helps me relax, so I'm going to keep doing it until it's not worth it."
Penny nodded, seeming to think his words over. The two of them were quiet again.
It was Penny who broke the silence again. "Can I try one?"
*****
You can read my other prompt responses, including some continuations of prompt responses, over at [Pubby's Creative Workshop](https://www.reddit.com/r/Pubby88/)
EDIT: As a thank you for the gold, I've added a [Part II](https://www.reddit.com/r/Pubby88/comments/5unk65/the_year_is_2040_and_you_are_the_last_smoker/ddvyext/?st=izakecg6&sh=b62baf90) | Friday morning. The last time I would have to hear my alarm, well, until Monday. I turn off the buzzing of the alarm to not wake my wife, kiss her on the cheek, and go downstairs to start making coffee. The office has a Keurig machine, but I have always thought you couldn't beat a pot of coffee in the morning. I step outside to smoke my first one of the day. My wife hates it. Really, everyone hates it.
I put a cigarette to my lips, light it, and without even looking up, I know the neighbors are judging me. I look at the carton in my hand. I remember when they used to just have the Surgeon General's warning. I wonder what's on here today...
STOP SMOKING ASSHOLE in big, red letters. Cute. Less personal than I am used to, but blunt. Not bad. The ads had been getting more and more hurtful, so something broad and unspecific was nice. I go in, grab a cup of coffee, and return to the patio. I turn the radio on, waiting to hear how traffic is for my drive into the city.
"The weather today looks fairly nice, some clouds but mostly sunny. Highs in the high 60's, low 70's. Traffic looking pretty clear, some congestion downtown but it is Friday, after all." The man on the radio laughs, apparently amused by his own joke. "Also, a big shout out to the last douchebag that still smokes! If you wanted something small and thin in your mouth, maybe start working on your flexibility!" He laughed again, and I laughed with him. That was one was pretty good. Sucking my own cock, hadn't heard that one before. Oh well, time to shower and get ready for work.
The man on the radio was right, it is congested downtown. That's fine though. I left early, so I have plenty of time to get there. No reason to be upset. I roll down my windows, stuck in traffic a mile from my exit. I pull out another cig, doing nothing but enjoying the day. I start to zone out, when the person in the car next to me starts waving to get my attention. We are both crawling along on the interstate, so I mouth "What?" since I don't think he could hear me. Choosing to try to be heard, the man yells over the sounds of the highway.
"Hey retard! You just trying to give me cancer? Do that somewhere else, ya idiot!"
I slowly flip him the bird, but then I see it. A huge billboard with my face on it. In my mouth, a cigarette. In small letters above my head, it says "Only a moron would smoke a..." and in huge letters on my forehead, "FAGGOT." From this distance, I can hardly see the small lettering, but I bet if I tried hard enough I could see my face and the word from home.
I sigh, and flick my ash onto the slowly moving road beneath me.
"Maybe I should cut back a bit. Yanno, for my health." | 2017-02-17T09:44:01 | 2017-02-17T09:10:30 | 2,244 | 1,281 |
[WP] The Harry Potter universe is reversed- the "normal" world (including the Dursleys) are all wizards. But Harry wants to go to a secret school for math and science. | "Imagine it," Hermoine whispered. "The laws of physics, space, time, motion, gravitation, electromagnetism, optics! The entire spectrum of things that are *not* just explained by 'magic, that's why!' Imagine the books we'll have access to! Actual, living, updated tomes! Peer-reviewed science! Research that wasn't done millennia ago! All that knowledge that lies outside the narrow scope of boring ol' magical arts."
"Crikey. This is right up your alley, then," sighed Ron. "Come on Harry, let's go get some Twizzlers off the cart. We have, like, five hours before the train gets there."
Harry Potter smiled brightly. He finally had friends, actual friends, interested in doing things that didn't involve telekinesis, apparition, or suggestively thrusting their wands in his face while making fun of his non-magical skills. Who knew what kind of labs they'd perform? The assays, the cultures, the centrifuges? The prospect of it all was dizzying! He could just kiss the snowy-nosed mailman had stumbled to the doorstep with Harry's acceptance letter to Higgsworth Boarding School.
"Come on guys," Harry shouted, "Last one to correctly calculate the 20th digit of pi is an sulfuric acid-odored ovum!"
---
---
Malfoy's arm was squeezing Harry's throat, percolating his Adam's apple. "You think you're so hot, just because your parents were big-name professors at Harvard. You make me sick, Potter! But I'll have you know my family comes from a long line of Ox-Cam tenured faculty, so don't you dare stink up the place with your little Ivy-League airs!" Malfoy sneered.
Hermoine jumped into the fray. "Leave him alone, Draco!"
"Oi, Hermoine. How's the... magical-bullshit store that your *wizard* parents run? Did they have to force some potions down your throat to fix the looks you were born with?!" This triggered an uproarious chorus of chortles from Crabbe and Goyle, accompanied by high-fives.
"By Sagan! Let's just go, guys, the bullies aren't worth it," warned Ron. "We'll be late for Quantum Mechanics." | "You are a muggle, Harry!", said Hagrid.
"I am a what?"
"Yes Harry, you are a muggle!"
"No, you've made a mistake. I can't be...a-a muggle. I mean, I'm just... Harry. Just Harry.
"Well, Just Harry, were you ever unable to make anything happen? Anything ? What about your love for maths, science and manual work?", said Hagrid.
Hagrid handed Harry a letter, which read :
"Dear, Mr. Potter. We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Harvards' School of Humancraft and Muggle Sciences !" | 2015-02-23T17:47:18 | 2015-02-23T17:20:45 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] You live in an ancient world, when someone turns 18, they will receive a gift either magic or weapon. The gift will be of use for them whenever in need. On your 18th birthday, Death knocks on your door and give you his scythe. | This scythe emanates an inexplicable energy. It resonates with the souls of thousands, as though struggling to escape its confines. It is an artifact of unspeakable power, and I have no clue as to why I am its master now. All I know is that Death, in his mysterious ways, sneaked up to the door of my hovel one night and left the scythe in my hands as I struggled to remain awake.
Then it hits me. I have just turned 18.
The 18th gift, as society calls it, is a monumental occasion in everyone's lives. They get a special gift to help them in need, be it mystical or mundane, and almost always a weapon. People my age have received bows, swords, spears and the like, but usually as a family heirloom. It's usually what keeps peasants like myself going, to know that whenever we need it, there is a weapon for every man and woman.
The familiar bell tolls from the lord's manor. It's time for us peasants to get to work. Today is the harvest season, and we are to collect the field's blessings. Some of it will go to us, a lot of it will go to the lord, but extra food is a small price to pay for protection. This feudal system has existed forever and it will never die.
I stare at my old scythe, dulled and bent from overuse. I look at the new gift, as light in weight as it is dark in shade, and elect to try the scythe of Death today.
The other peasants stare, affixed, by the scythe as I carry it onto the field, some eventually screaming and turning away. Perhaps they see something in it that I don't. Perhaps their relatives' deaths, writhing in agony, are forever reflected in the sheen of the blade, for I wasn't there for the deaths of my parents, and I can never see it.
As the first swing takes effect, the crops instantly shrivel and rot when the blade makes contact. The screaming, however, has attracted the attention of the lord's small detachment of men-at-arms, who surround me in a circle. What else am I to do but to take a second swing? The soldiers fall, their souls being dragged into the blade. Some more come, and score some hits on me, but I cannot die, for the scythe is mine, and for it to absorb me would be absurd.
The sun sets. I figure that I can no longer find my future in this village, and walk the old dirt path. 12 miles to the nearest town, they say. 12 miles is a long time to think. What do I use the scythe for, if not for my old life? When would I be in the right to use it? Would I ever, one day, look into its reflective blade and see the souls of my dearly departed parents?
All I know is that this gift was available when I was in need, and it will continue to be. | Middle of the night, I was sound asleep like a bastard and I hear the door banging like a brothel, nearly shat myself when i heard it. So I lumbered out of bed, dragged myself to the door, I was preparing myself for a shock you know the sort of thing, fire or another donkey jumped off the cliff. I nearly hit him, when I opened the door, it was Barry Scipio Africanous with another sucidily funny joke so I slammed the door in his face, nearly took his nose off.
I danderd back to bed and the knocking started again louder this time, I marched to the door, this time I was going to feed Barry his teeth, I’d spent a long day De corpsing the coliseum and was tired of this shit. I opened the door and a scythe was thrust into my hand, I’m not an angry man but what use would a farmer have for another fucking scythe. I split the thing across my knee and the figure at the door disappeared.
I apparently for some reason became immortal after that little incident and now I throw bricks at the blind to pass the time, I’ve had a lot of time on my hands and literally done everything else, so I think I’m coping well with being cursed for breaking the staff of Garry.
More light warfare r/gliggett | 2019-02-28T21:38:36 | 2019-02-28T21:09:32 | 1,790 | 22 |
[WP] You live in a world where eating has all the taboos that sex does in our world. No one eats in public and cooking food is shameful. In defiance of social norms, you run an illegal "red light" buffet. | I opened the small slit in the door and was instantly rewarded with a huge puff of cigarette smoke. The customer outside, one of my regulars, coughed the password and I quickly let them in.
"How many trays ya got?" Mandy asked in her raspy voice. "Eleven," I answered. It was a lie, sort of. Two of them held macaroni and cheese.
We walked down the hallway, her in front. The illicit smell from my speakeasy was faintly noticeable there. I was still trying to fix that; the odor-eaters for the staircase hadn't arrived yet and without fail some of my customers would forget to brush their teeth adequately.
I opened the door to the stairs for her. She was scratching her arms as she stepped past me, into the bunker. Fifty years ago, the space my speakeasy is now in was built to protect innocent civilians from nuclear bombs. Now it is a place for gastric deviants to get their fix.
A few customers were eating down there when we came in, hunched over their plates, their postures indicating both shame and ecstasy. I showed Mandy to her usual spot, then she took a few large bills out of her jacket and handed them to me.
"Enjoy," I said. Walking away from her towards the back of the bunker, I nodded to Rick, my hardboiled chef, who was standing over a boiling pot of mussels. On my way to him I passed my buffet table, which looked very tasty that night if I do say so myself.
"With your skills, Rick, you could make an IV bag into a five course-" I began to say, before an angry look in his eyes gave me a start.
"Take your tongs out of the water and put your hands up!" I heard Mandy scream. I turned around. Her and two of the other customers were standing up and pointing their steak knives at the two of us.
"Not again..." Rick said under his breath.
"Everybody calm down here," I said, lifting my hands up and holding them out in front of me. "Nobody has to get pancaked here."
"Shut up!" Mandy said. She walked over to the buffet table. "We'll take all of this to go, and there's nothing you can do about it!" The two guys she was with moved forward and stood in front of us, waving their knives in our faces.
"All of it?" Rick asked in disbelief. It's past curfew, you won't make it two blocks with doggie bags that big. Besides, the smell of my empanadas..."
"We'll take our chances!" Mandy said. "Street value for this alone makes the more than worth-"
I threw the boiling pot over her two thug friends, who fell to the floor screaming, and Rick jumped over the burning stove top to land on top of Mandy. He took the knife from her easily, then reached up with it to spear a samosa with it. Rick always ate when things got violent.
"Have fun going back on the drip sweetheart!" I said to Mandy. "I know the owner of every speakeasy in town. You'll be seventy before you have a morsel again!"
"Noooooo!" she screamed with all her effort, crushed under Rick's wieght.
I looked up. The rest of my customers were still chomping away, either oblivious or indifferent to what had just happened.
I would be too, if a plate of Rick's spaghetti bolognese was laying in front of me. | A man in the streets of Albany, New York was caught smuggling a batch of cooked chicken tenders beneath his sweaty white shirt. He was captured by the Mafia and dragged to their hideout.
The interrogation room was bright. The spotlight was focused on the man's bald potato-shaped head. He was strapped to his chair. Tears streamed from his eyes. Sweat glistened.
He heard the door open. The light was smacked away. The boss grabbed him by the neck.
"Where are the others? Tell us!"
The man shook his head. The boss unhooked his nightstick from his belt. "You want to do this the easy way, or the hard way? You've got two seconds."
"THEY'RE ON MADISON AVENUE, BENEATH THE TOY STORE! I SWEAR THAT'S ALL I KNOW!"
The boss smacked him. "Liar!" He reached for the bowl of the chicken tenders on the table. Lifting it above the man's head, he tipped it over.
The man thrashed against his bindings, screaming his lungs away.
_____
*Knock knock*
Billson stuck his eye to the peephole. Outside was a man in a black cloak and hood, face obscured. "Who's there?" he said into the PA.
"Flin Flon. We have the cargo."
The password! With a rusty creak, the door swung open. Billson grinned. "Good, let's bring--"
The man lowered his hood. Billson's smile vanished.
"LET'S GET EM, BOYS!"
The Mafia leaped from their hiding places. Each man clutched like a sword a long, slender baguette, topped with layers of strawberry jam and I Can't Believe It's Not Butter!® spread. Billson had a heart attack from shock and died.
The Mafia streamed into the underground buffet. Screams erupted. The police arrived on the scene.
It was too late.
| 2017-11-12T15:43:27 | 2017-11-12T13:21:16 | 30 | 11 |
[WP] In the year 2200, an IQ test with 100% accuracy is invented. IQ becomes the universal grade of intelligence. By law, everyone has to take the test at 18. You’re a perfectly normal university student with a part time job but now you've got to explain to everyone why the test shows your IQ is 0. | "What do you mean it says zero?" the major bellowed. "Did you eggheads forget an electrode?" He turned and stared at me through the glass. I think I had gone cross-eyed by that point.
"Uh, no sir, it would be reporting NULL if there was no connection." One of the anonymous men in lab coats tentatively replied. He had stupid glasses. He pushed them up on his nose, nervously.
"Is he dead?"
"Uhm, unlikely. The empirical lower bound is, uhh, 15, sir. That's what the uhh... the Salmon Test showed." Another anonymous lab coat replied. The only thing I remember about him is that he had disheveled red hair.
"The Salmon Test?"
"We tested the device on a dead salmon. Since it's an active probe, it can detect residual neural pathways, even in non-living specimens. Cadavers usually measure at about 25." Beads of sweat had started forming at his hairline.
I think that's when the bit of drool hit my chest. It's hard to form memories when I'm in the zone.
"So, is he stupid?"
"Uhh, no, sir, we think it might, uhh, be the exact opposite. We think he might, uhh, be gaming the machine"
Busted!
"Don't fuck with me, son. Why would he want to game the machine?"
"We, uhm.. well, we don't know. He's been non-communicative since we started testing."
Ha! I've been "non-communicative" for, jesus, 5 years now? Time flies in the Himalayas.
"Well, I know how to get him to talk." The major bristled to attention and started walking to the door.
Time to really fuck with them. I felt my eyes roll back.
"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit." one of the lab coats started murmuring. I couldn't figure out which timeline he belonged to, let alone which lab coat he was. "Sir, excuse me, but he's registering at -20 now."
"What the fu--"
The ground started humming. That was new. I tried to move it up to the walls.
"Negative 26"
Everything was blurry. I lost track of which direction time was moving.
"Negative 32"
Must have still been moving forward. I tried to get the walls to harmonize with the floor.
"Negative 35"
A drop of liquid hit my chest. That might have been the nosebleed? Could have just been another bit of drool. I felt all of their anxiety, their fear. The red-haired lab coat worried I would make him shit himself. Stupid Glasses realized I was in his mind and tried to plead with me. The major was thinking of his wife and twin daughters, hoping they would be strong after he died. I'd probably made my point.
I snapped out and wiped the blood and drool from my chest, while holding eye contact with the major. I scanned the room, all of the lab coats were staring at me. None of them noticed the score on the machine rising sharply. I locked eyes with Stupid Glasses, since he was the closest to understanding. I stood up, put my finger to my lips, and as I exhaled a quiet "shh", I surged the console into a display of sparks and shattered the glass between us. I yanked the electrodes off of me, walked through the broken window, and headed to the door. All of them stood frozen, still staring at me. As I reached for the door handle, I looked back at all of them, and for the first time in years, I spoke. My voice hoarsely crackled a warning, "Leave all this be. Bad juju."
As I closed the door behind me, the red-haired lab coat shit himself, but I swear to god, that wasn't me. | Edit: If you read /u/lemonman37 comment, you can read a better written version of my story.
When i opened the letter, i felt my heart sank to my stomach. A big fat zero, just like on my bankaccount... my eyes jumping from line to line, turning the letter around, just to be greeted by a smiley, with the slogan. "Your iq, your future - dear Brian".
I wandered around in the appartment, my hand where slightly shivering. It had to do something with my birthday, i was a little drank wasn't I?
But then again ... Zero? That must have been a computer error... right? The test itself was without error... if not ...
Yes the new ID-Cards all updated themselve, real iq had to be on there!
My hand went into my pocket and grabed my Wallet.
Sloppy fingers let it fall to the Ground but i fiddelt my ID out anyway.
There it was ... the big fat zero. *knock knock* the door caught me by suprise, my ID fell to the ground ... the rumors ... where they true? That the goverment took out anyone with a low iq score?
I made my way to the door, as silent as possible, i heard the voice, just as i looked trough the doorspy. ,,Pizza service''. Jesus.
Brian opened the door, ,,*Uhm, i did not uh morder uhm i mean order , any pizza, and my roomates are out, sooo ... wrong door?*''
The pizza boy looked realy anoyed, the kind of guy who got pranked 3 times this week, and was just to fucking tired of this shit. He took out the reciept, than a look the number of the apartment.
,,*Brian?*''
,,*Thats me, but i did not order anything.*"
,,*The Brian who just got a Zero on the iq test?*"
,,*What... I*"
,,*Take it, you are going to need it.*"
The Pizza-boy just pushed the Pizza in my Hand and was trough the fireproof door before i got out another word.
| 2016-08-19T00:50:27 | 2016-08-19T00:08:55 | 200 | 11 |
[WP] A wartime law passed to allow conscription of students who passed eighth grade with magical potential. To avoid this, you openly plagiarize assignments, doodle on tests, and skip classes to fail. It's your fifth repeat year, and the teachers desperately want you to pass.
Edit: Thanks for the silver! Never gotten one of these before. | "And what did Archemedes say is the most powerful source of magic?"
I raised my hand, and felt a small thrill at watching the light fade from her eyes.
No one else raised their hand, so after a while, she wss forced to call on me.
"BJ," she said tiredly.
"Um, I actually prefer to be called by my full name, 'Blowjob'."
The rest of my eighth grade class busted up laughing. I could keep a straight face, though. It was my fifth year telling that joke, after all.
She scowled. She raised her fingers and snapped loudly, and the class slowly settled down.
"The most powerful source of magic is," I paused for effect, "my saggy left testicle."
Oh, if I'd thought the class was laughing before, they were dying now.
"That's it!" she shouted. "Headmaster's office, now!"
I knew this song and dance. I stood up, inclined my head, and walked out of the classroom.
I stood at the top of the stairs, decided stairs were for suckers, and Jumped. I Landed in front of the Headmaster's office. With a little grin, I knocked on the door.
"Enter," came his begrudging voice. He'd recognized my knock, how nice.
I pushed open the door. "Morning, Professor P.," I said.
"BJ Ashton," Professor Plutarch returned my greeting coolly. "What brings you here?"
"Professor Owl-eyes didn't like my answers," I said innocently. "I'm trying, though!"
"Trying to get expelled, more like," he said irritably, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.
That had, in fact, been my meaning. But I didn't say anything.
"Professor Owliege has been more than generous with you," he said. "We see your potential."
To be roadkill, I thought bitterly.
"Here," he said, pulling out a small stack of papers. "This is your new assignment. You can work in the ISS room, and I'll ensure you won't be disturbed. Finish this packet, and you won't need to return to Professor Owliege's class."
No, I wouldn't, I realized as I flipped through it. This was a Magical Equivalence Exam, with the front page missing. This could finally get me out of the 8th grade.
I knew what to do.
*****
Professor Plutarch knocked on the door and stepped inside. "Ashton, how's your progress?"
"Going great!" I said, holding up my paper.
I would treasure the look of shock on his face for a long time.
"Ashton," he said, his expression turning furious, "what is the meaning of this?"
"It, uh, doesn't really mean anything. Its just a penis," I said, as if it were obvious. Which it was.
"How could you do this?"
"Well, with my pencil, Professor P. I'm especially proud of the shading on the scrotum."
"Enough!" he roared. "You will cease this foolishness immediately! There is a war going on, and our country needs skilled magicians like you to serve! Why do you insist on trying our patience? What could cause you to shirk your responsibility? What could be more important than your country?"
I don't know why I did it. Usually I'd respond with something flippant.
But I found the truth came spilling out of my mouth.
"This 'great war'? Has taken my father. My uncle. My older brother."
"Noble sacr-" he started.
"Shut up," I cut him off. "Now, it's just me, taking care of my mother and my little sister. I'm only working part time, but right now that's enough. If I go, sure, the pay is great; but only if I survive. If I die, they get nothing. They have no one else. They have nothing. So my family. That's what's more important than my country."
He seethed, his fsce looking sallow. He had no response.
The intensity I'd felt slowly evaporated. My mask slipped back on, I became the clown again. "Anyway, is it true I can get a detention by calling you a limp-membered toad licker?"
His face slowly turned red. Another detention would push me closer to the limit. Too many, and I failed the year.
Again.
"No," he said through gritted teeth. "It is not."
"Worth a shot." I shrugged, then turned back to my paper. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think Mr. Penis needs a lady friend." | "+100 for creativity!" screamed Ms. Jane. Her words lived in my test paper, but she might as well have spoken for all to hear. Fortunately, while my doodles rebelled against me, my list of infractions kept me temporarily safe. I did not embark on this grand scheme to flail uselessly now. Any change, slight as they may be, shall be thoroughly expunged. They'll find creativity in these poor caricatures? Well, there's always a way to correct those.
Fire alarms blared, causing panic to adorn Ms. Jane's unnervingly perfect face. Chaos filled the classroom, first in the form of confused looks, then in the shouts of fear and whispers of false bravado. These students, young as they are, immediately calm down at the whip of authority. Ms. Jane recovered her senses. We all filed out, all too orderly, then a 2-hour long 'moment of waiting' outside the school grounds as teachers and caretakers assessed the cause of the alarm. It was enough time to put myself to work.
We were sent home immediately after, my mom offering me a look of guilt as she hastily recovered me from the embrace of the school. When we arrived home, her worried voice broke the silence. "We can't keep this up forever, Ned. Soon, you'll be too old and even the government will start to take notice," she said. "Don't worry, mom. They're all amateurs. They won't notice," I confidently responded.
Still she remained anxious, even the next day after she sees me off. I felt a hint of annoyance at that; it was her worry that led me to start this charade in the first place. I confess that other factors reinforced this plan for a long time, but I'd still blame her for opening the floodgates.
I walked down the street and I saw the world around me distort. It coalesced around me, eager for gossip, and I Spoke. The world bended to my words, easily ripping into the laws of physics, and time, and space. I loathe speaking just to manipulate a few insignificant pieces of data, but I'd rather not take a chance with fate.
Upon my arrival at the classroom I found Ms. Jane's face, now filled with flaws, confused. I chucked inwardly, for the test papers were redistributed. This time, the score blared a flat 0. Somewhere out there, in Mr. Cormag's office, my attendance incentives and points all turned red. My recommendation letters suddenly disappeared in transit, or replaced with mocking write-ups that could end careers.
It's funny how the best mages are the ones who traipse through this world unseen, unfelt, and unadorned. Only the unskilled would blunder and use this power to start wars and force ideas into others. For someone like me however, magic is more than just the things I Spoke to become true...it is also the things I've heard that IS true. And it is this understanding that will root me here, for I have no desire to see the world in any lesser light. | 2019-07-20T22:52:08 | 2019-07-20T22:37:59 | 43 | 26 |
[WP] You've just defeated the dark lord, as you were prophesized to. But as you walk back into camp, everyone looks at you, shocked. "There was no prophecy," they explain. "We just told you that to give you confidence. How on earth did you kill an unkillable sorcerer?" | "My friends," I gave a big smile. "Don't sweat the details. The *Dark Lord* **is** ***dead***!"
They, of course, proceeded to sweat the details. These senseless beings that sent an innocent boy to die. Fed him lies, about how he was the prophesized one of a long-forgotten divination, promptly made up on the spot with overbearing, stinking bull and an ever-constant stream of shit.
"Impossible," one dolt said. He had one eye, which was his only defining feature, honestly. And old, maybe? "The Dark Lord tore out my eye--"
Oh oops.
"--when I was a wee, but powerful knight. And you are telling me Brandon killed *the* Dark Lord?"
"Guys, I don't know what you are talking about," I shrugged, wagging my fingers at them and tsking, imbuing the necessary magic with discreet somatic and verbal cues. "All I know is I was sent there. Maybe your magic is so powerful that the prophecy came true, you know?"
"We have no magic of that sorts in this village," said another woman. She looked suspicious, which was, frankly, hard to do now, considering a serene, magically induced stupor had just taken effect on many of their hilarious, dopey faces. "In fact, we were waiting for arcane aid from the capital. We sent you in to..."
The woman trailed off, then. She was struggling to keep her eyelids open and her mental guard closed.
"To?"
"To die," she mumbled. "It didn't matter if we sent our strongest or weakest. Any fight would be a difference of minutes, even seconds. It was the journey, the rumours we set along the way, that we hoped to make the Dark Lord wary and delay his approach."
Delay they did. I was laughing so hard at their amateur attempts at sabotage that I could barely leave the floor for two days.
"The Dark Lord's dead, and I'm alive," I said. "What more do you want? Your problems are solved, no?"
It didn't take too long for the sizeable mob to nod their heads vigorously. Well, as vigorously as a drunk weasel submerged in water could, perhaps. I know what that looks like. The people started shuffling away, and soon, I was left alone in the town square, where I inhaled a deep breath.
"Right, Brandon," I whispered. "Got all that?"
"Those bastards," the boy shouted back telepathically. I had to reduce the volume, semi-cursing myself at not predicting the angry outburst of a manipulated teen. "They were going to let me die?"
"Well, to be fair, you were duped by an obvious trick," I said. "They've sent, like, sixty different heroes before you. What makes you think you were different?"
Brandon was silent. Ooh, I'll admit to that not being very empathetic or sensitive.
"But it's OK, Brandon," I said. "Just say the word. And this village will be reduced to ashes, you know?"
This quiet was different. It was one of contemplation. If I concentrated hard enough, I could hear the gears whirring in his head, a fresh engine combusting its pistons for the first time.
"No," the boy finally said. "Not yet. You have my body now, Dark Lord."
"That I do."
"Infiltrate them. Make it slow. Have fun with it. And when I make my way down there, we'll slaughter them like the lying pigs they are."
Sinister. Very promising. Why am I keeping the kid around? Give him some deliciously evil choices to make? Well, see, a drunk weasel is mediocre entertainment for an afternoon. That old saying... yes, teach a man to build a fire, and he's warm for a night. Set a man on fire, and he's warm for the rest of his life.
And a kid drunk on borrowed power? Oh, there's so much fun to be had.
---
r/dexdrafts | I strode back into the camp with a smirk on my face. The surprise on everyone's faces, naturally, they'd expected me to be dead, hadn't they?
The spellcasters, the farmers, the fliers. The dragons, the other creatures. They'd all set up camp outside the twisted fortress, and expected me to go inside alone.
But I'd done it. I walked into my camp, all smiles, and I'd strode straight into the largest tent, sitting down with my dear leader so I could explain to her exactly how I'd vanquished her.
The demon of the wastelands, whose minions stretch all over the world. Everyone in the camp trusted me, as they should, and I took my seat at the table.
My princess waved the guards out, and finally, we had privacy.
She didn't see it coming. In moments, I had her imprisoned in a magic cocoon, and the guards were far too slow to do anything to save themselves as they barged into the tent, only to be trapped along with their precious princess.
Then, I sent out the signal, and my offspring attacked. The camp had been extra busy this morning, and all across the temporary settlement my children dropped their disguises, launching our attack on the others.
It went perfectly. Walking out of the tent, I dropped my own disguise, my limbs growing longer and blackening, filling with holes as my wings sprouted from my back, horn emerging from my head and shimmering with magic as I drag my captured royalty and her guards out of the tent with me.
I take to the skies, yelling, _"IT'S GOING TO TAKE A LOT MORE THAN **ONE** PONY TO KILL **QUEEN CHRYSALIS**!"_, and I quickly fly away from the camp.
Once I've properly sealed _princess Twilight_ away, _then_ I will finish rounding up the pathetic members of her army, if my drones haven't finished with it already.
And the little adventurer they'd sent in to kill me? I'll keep him at my throne, he will live an easier life for giving me such an _easy_ way to infiltrate their camp. Even taking his form as my disguise was laughably easy.
✩｡:*•.─────────.•*:｡✩
>!lol yeah I did another pony one suck it nerds jk ily!< | 2021-08-20T12:42:47 | 2021-08-20T11:58:26 | 31 | 23 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | “High Negotiator, the human ambassador wishes to see you.”
Sil Dunnan, High Negotiator of the Akkarat sighed, and gestured his assent. Of course she wanted to talk. The war was necessary, but still he felt a twinge of guilt. He’d known the ambassador for a long time, and they’d always gotten along well.
The Terrans were the natural choice. Of the Five Ancients, they were by far the least threatening. They didn’t field the horrific armies of the Gene Splicers, or command the AI strategists of the Machine Lords. Despite that, the peace stifled the mighty Akkarat race might as well be called the Pax Terra.
The other forerunner races had grown old and tired. They wouldn’t - couldn’t - maintain the peace themselves through force of arms. It was the humans that did that, not with weapons, but with their relentless sociability and diplomacy. Every government in the known galaxy sported a human ambassador who gently steered that race towards harmonious coexistence.
That peace threatened everything that made the Akkarat the Akkarat. Since unifying, they’d had nobody to fight. The old ways were dying. The galactic order had to be destroyed.
Quiet reconnaissance had been done. To the amazement of the War Council, human ships were essentially unarmed. It was beyond bizarre. Perhaps that was how they afforded their spendthrift aid missions - they had no military budget.
In fact, the humans really only seemed to have one thing going for them: their ships didn’t show up on normal scans.
Space was big, but ships were easy to find. Hyperspace shunts, the technology that turned every wheel in the galaxy, drew power from the endless energies of higher-dimensional space. To perform this miracle, each one of them ripped a tiny hole in space-time that a good sensor could pick up across a star system.
At some point, the humans had found a way to cloak their shunts. Even with their stunted military, this gave them a concerning edge in a prolonged conflict. As a result, a decisive first strike had been ordered.
Naturally, he hadn’t been able to tell the ambassador in advance. No doubt she felt betrayed. The least he could do was answer her questions.
As if on cue, the human ambassador threw open the doors of his audience chamber, his aid trailing rather uselessly behind her. She was visibly distressed.
“Sil!” she shouted as she bore down on him. “Tell me this is a lie, a mistake, anything! Just tell me you haven’t attacked the Terran Confederation.”
He tried to pitch his voice in a manner humans found soothing. “I’m sorry, Maria, I’d have told you sooner, but the War Council bound me to secrecy. Of course, I will ensure that your friends and loved ones are spared as best I can. I know how social your people are-”
“You damned fool,” she hissed back at him. “Don’t you understand? *You* are my family. This planet holds everyone I love.”
Without waiting for an invitation, she slumped down into one of the chairs on the far side of his desk. His aide looked at her disapprovingly; Sil waved him out of the room.
The High Negotiator regarded her with concern. “Is there… anything I can do? I realize our nations are at war, but you have served your people and ours well for living memory and beyond. If there is anything in my power that you might need, please, tell me.”
She responded with a dismissive motion. “It’s too late. Had you told me sooner, I could have tried to stop it. But nothing can stop it now.”
Sil chuckled. “No need for that. Human bluffing is good, but it’s not that good. We figured out your secret. No weapons! No military infrastructure! Just myths about the destruction of Terra’s enemies in ages past. As if a psychological operation could keep your peace safe forever!”
“It was clever ruse, yes, very clever. But the age of the Ancients is over. It’s time for conflict, change, and glory. I’m afraid that as a human, you wouldn’t understand.”
Maria laughed, bitter and hollow. “I understand, Sil. That’s why I was posted here. I’ve personally killed an enemy soldier with my bare hands. I can report that it is not glorious at all.”
The High Negotiator frowned. “There is no recorded history of any human war. If such an event had ever happened, it would have predated The Treaty of the Five Forerunners!
To his shock, the normally staid and proper ambassador put her feet up on his desk. "Yeah. I was there.”
Sil stared at her, stunned. “But how?”
“Well, since we’re all about to die it can’t hurt to tell you. See, humans figured out immortality before we were really ready. Our numbers grew, resources ran thin, and we nearly wiped ourselves out.”
“After we came back from the brink of extinction, we decided we’d do whatever it took to make sure it never happened again. It’s a job we ambassadors take very seriously.”
The High Negotiator snorted. “So you melted down your weapons and rely only on words to make this peace you love so much?”
She returned his gaze levelly. “Who says we melted down our weapons?”
A tiny seed of doubt began to take root in Sil’s heart. The look Maria was giving him reminded him more and more of an expression he’d seen only on the battlefield. It was the look of one who no longer has anything to lose.
“Our analysis was thorough, I read the reports myself. Your ships are-”
“Your reports are bullshit or you wouldn’t have done this. I’m going to let you in on a secret, Sil. I’m going to tell you how our stealth systems work.”
“Really? But that’s been the subject of research for centuries; it’s one of humankind’s most closely guarded secrets!”
“Yeah, but again, impending death. Do you want to know or not?”
He regarded her warily. “I suppose I do.”
“We don’t have a stealth system. We just don’t use hyperspace shunts.”
“What?!” Sil surged to his feet. “That’s impossible. A shunt is the only source of power light and powerful enough to fit into a spacecraft. You’d never be able break the hyperspace barrier with chemical fuels or solar power.”
“You’re right about that,” she replied laconically. “Chemical fuels are no good. But it turns out human brains are pretty bad at hyperspace physics. Uniquely bad, in fact. So we just learned to chain the stars instead.”
The hackles rose on the High Negotiator’s shoulders and neck. “You have small stars inside your ships. And these stars generate power all the time, even when the ship is jumping through hyperspace?”
The ambassador nodded. “Yup, that’s my understanding.”
Now it was Sil’s turn to fall back into his chair. “Your ships are practically invisible. And they must have range far beyond anything we could possibly have guessed.”
He gave her a sharp look. “Why are you telling me this? The element of surprise is all you have.”
The human ambassador’s expression was shifting again, this time towards sadness. “No. It’s really not. Do you know how hyperspace interdiction works? I mean, in general terms.”
Sil looked at her with fear as realization began to dawn. “I don’t know how it works, but I am afraid you are about to tell me.”
Maria removed her feet from his desk, resting her chin lightly on a clenched fist. “I am. Hyperspace shunts create a knot that crosses both normal space and h-space. Hyperspace inhibitors work by being a kind of comb that grabs the knot and pulls the ship back into our dimension.”
The High Negotiator blanched. “Hyperspace inhibitors won’t work on Terran ships. An invasion might come at any moment.”
His human friend just shook her head. “There won’t be an invasion. Don’t you get it? We learned to chain the stars *second*. We turned them into weapons first."
“My gods.” It was little more than a whisper. Sil cradled his head in his hands as the awful reality set in. “You can send star weapons through hyperspace. We’ve murdered our entire species.”
“No,” the human replied. “It was my job to stop it. I failed you. I’m sorry.”
She walked around the desk and gathered the High Negotiator into her arms. “It’s alright. It won’t hurt. And I’ll be there with you. Gods willing, we’ll be able to walk one another across to the other side.” | **Xerxes XVII - Northern Quadrant of the Terran Front**
163.0041 Fleet Standard
The command bunker was a problem. Fighting had stalled out as the 25th Company of the Royal Offworld Regiment held their ground, unable to push home the final advance that would drive the last of the invading forces that had come to conquer the fledgling colony. The stalemate was becoming precarious for the remaining colonists, as the bunker's jamming systems allowed the hulking giants they had taken to calling Fomori to keep the colony's calls for help silenced.
Something needed to change, and fast, if they were to survive.
***
"So do you think this'll work, or is it gonna kill the both of us?"
Ranger Aella Davey grinned over at her Lance-Corporal before giving him a shrug in response. "Oh, ye of little faith. Could be both!"
That earned her a dark chuckle as Cross turned back to the hard-wired field phone they had been reduced to by the jamming. "I'll tell the Leftenant you said so."
The two were crouched in a dugout at the crest of a hill overlooking what had once been the primary farms for the small colony settlement working to establish itself on this planet. Xerxes XVII was a temperate world, spared the worst of the variances that made Earth such a crucible for her children by the proliferation of other satellites around the Xerxes System's bright golden light. The planet and had been a prime colonial acquisition, still slightly too harsh for the liking of their new Federation allies, but nearly idyllic for Terrans.
Right up until the neighbors dropped by. None of the colonists had managed anything resembling a dialogue with the warped and twisted humanoids when they marched on the colony, and few were willing to consider a second attempt after two three-meter tall invaders tore the first negotiator sent to greet them's limbs off before throwing the man's shrieking remains at the town's walls like a dart.
That had been six months ago.
The colony was holding out by the skin of its teeth. The hundred or so soldiers on-planet at the time of the attack had immediately dug in to wait for reinforcement, but as it became clear that something was blocking communications, hope was starting to run thin.
Aella slithered up to the edge of the dugout, keeping low as she trained her spotting scope downhill at the enemy bunker in the greys of Xerxes' long pre-dawn twilight. It was scaled wrong for human use and crudely built, mostly packed earthworks and slabs of an unidentifiable dark metal, surrounded by the encampment of those Fomori troops not worthy of living within. They were having beef for breakfast again today, she noted bitterly, feasting on the livestock that the colony hadn't been able to get to shelter in time. Her stomach grumbled at the site, reminding her of far too many days on short rations.
Cross' bulk thudded against the earthen wall of the dugout next to her, and he gave her a nod. "We're good to go. Leftenant says to make sure we've got our sunscreen on and she'll have the last couple beers on ice when we get back. Murphy is three minutes out with the ammo."
She couldn't help but smirk. "Well by all means then, let's not keep those drinks waiting."
The two slid back down into the dugout and to the gangly device they had spent half the night shlepping through the trench system and up the back of the hill. Even with countergrav assistance, it was awkward and frustrating to move under cover of darkness, but they had gotten it in place before the sky started to lighten and the enemy could see. It had taken the rest of the night to unpack and assemble the heavy tripod and the long gun atop it, but now it would be the work of a minute to raise it into firing position.
Muttered cursing from the tunnel entrance signaled the arrival of their third section mate. Ranger Murphy's lanky form hove into view a moment later, soaked in sweat as he carefully hauled a heavily protected ammunition crate behind him in a half-crouch. Placing it at the side of one leg of the tripod, he collapsed to the dugout's floor with a grunt.
"That," Murphy groaned between drinks from his canteen, "Is the heaviest fucking box of ammo I have ever had the distinct misfortune of hauling across God's green acre."
Cross half-heartedly glared at him from where he had returned to the trench phone, and Davey just smirked and popped the box's seals with her belt knife. "The fireworks will be worth the effort, Murph. Now get off your ass and give me a hand loading this thing."
***
"So who came up with this idea, anyway?" Murphy grunted as the two Rangers fitted the projectile onto the long gun, "Seems like a hell of a weird one."
"One of the Navy boffins off the *Botany Bay* who got stuck down here with us." Davey carefully inserted a retaining bolt, and the two slid the metal round firmly into place. "Seems he's some kind of historical wargamer. Got the idea from something the Yanks did back in the Second European War."
"Huh."
"I know, right? Get the other end of that crank, let's get this up over the top so we can blow and go."
Grunts of effort, along with metallic clatter and the muttering of the Lance-Corporal at the phone filled the next minute, then the muzzle crested the dugout and Davey sighted down the weapon's rangefinder.
"Okay, six degrees up. Range 2875 meters. Fight time 16 seconds."
"Set."
Her tone turned formal as she turned to Cross. "Lance-Corporal, we have a confirmed firing solution. Do we have the authorization to proceed?"
"Weapon armed?"
"Aye, Lance-Corporal!"
"Pills?"
All three dug out small foil packets, tearing into them before swallowing the chalky tablets within.
"Dosed."
"You may fire when ready."
Aella settled in against the weapon, taking up the firing control and one thumb flipping off the safety. "Safety's off!"
She shared a grin with Murphy, as Cross muttered a last reply into the phone before his face hardened with resolve. "Send it."
"Shades on, lads! HERE COMES THE SUN!"
***
Few of the Fomorians saw the flash of artillery on the blasted hill across the valley.
The colonists huddled behind their walls, however, saw the sun rise briefly in the West, as the fire at the heart of a star briefly bloomed.
On the hill, another sound was heard, lifted in mocking song. "~Davey, Davey Crockett. Queen of the wild frontier!~"
"Oh, shut it, Murphy." | 2020-02-07T16:52:19 | 2020-02-07T16:03:06 | 33 | 10 |
[WP] You are happily married and have a 4 year old child with your SO. But when your child starts to develop super powers one day, you have serious questions for your SO who has always seemed to have a boring accounting job. | She was always good to tread carefully on the subject of fathers. She would only let the boy read books and watch television shows where there were two happy parents, not knowing that watching that very thing was what cut the deepest.
So the boy would seek out stories of boys like him - Pokemon, Harry Potter. Of course, she was quick to shut it off or take the book away when she saw this. But one night, she paused, ever so slightly.
“Star Wars was your father’s favorite movie,” she said.
“Really?”
The mother saw that her boy was halfway through, so this one time - and for the rest of his childhood, it would turn out to be this one time - she sat down and watched with him.
“So who is his father?” the boy eventually asked, softly. “And his mother?”
“They’re gone,” the mother said, trying to handle it quickly.
“Is my father gone too?”
She didn’t answer.
\-
Years later, after the boy became a great hero, after he almost single-handedly warded off the Invasion and found a way to counter the Possession, he sat by his mother’s bed, shaking with rage that he was unable to save what was most important to him.
In her final moments, she smiled, like she always did. It was her greatest strength, not just to twist the ends of her lips upward into a smile even when bills were unpaid and loneliness wracked her, but to actually feel the warmth, feel the joy of life once more.
She reached out and squeezed her boy’s hand, alarming him with how weak her grip was. She looked at him openly.
“Will you tell me who he was, mother? I’m sorry to ask you like this...but I have to know.”
She shook her head, ever so slightly, and he understood that the effort to speak would be too much.
A few minutes later, she expired with that same smile on her lips.
But what he would remember, years later, was that right before she did, she had found the strength to whisper, in barely a rasp, “I love you.”
What had stopped her from telling him the truth, even at the very end?
\-
The boy stayed strong, his strength as robust as ever. But over the years he had lost something, whether an edge or a piece of his heart of mind, he didn’t know.
And now he stood across from his greatest enemy, the Gray Man.
“You have great courage, boy,” the Gray Man said. “Your parents must be proud.”
“They’re gone,” the boy said. “But I know my mother is.”
“And your father?”
The boy shook his head. “I have no father.”
“But everyone has a father.”
The boy said nothing.
“I had a son once. But quickly I learned that he was...not like me. Only his mother could take care of him. Because they were alike. Different, from me. Whenever I held the boy in my arms, he would feel like an animal at a zoo that wanted to be anywhere but with me. He would cry, and sob, and beat my chest in desperation.”
The boy continued to catch his breath, readying for what was coming.
“There was only one time he was calm in my arms. One night, I showed him my favorite movie. And although he couldn’t understand, he watched, riveted, and fell softly asleep in my arms. I thought things had changed. But...the next day, when I reached out for him, he left this.” He pointed at the jagged scar on his cheek, the one he was famous for.
But the boy couldn’t have known what was coming.
“We are not so different, boy. Maybe in the end you, too, will find we want the same things, just as your hero Luke did.”
And as the inescapable, horrible truth flashed in his mind, the boy charged at his enemy, and his father at his, and once more they locked themselves in the great embrace of battle.
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | “Honey? Can we talk please?” I finally found a time to talk to Gretel tonight. She put her book down on the night stand and looked at me.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“Uh, well I’m not sure you know this but uh... Tommy was flying.”
Gretel looked shocked. “Flying you say?”
“Flying. Was going to bring him a bag of chips today. And when I came home is zooming around the room.”
“Oh...” Gretel looked down on the blanket covering us. “Flying...”
“But wait! There’s more. Because when I asked him what was going, he just kept saying he had no idea. He saw a bird and was thinking about flying. All of a sudden he was doing just that!”
Gretel shook her head, then made a face like she just figured something out. But I still continued to talk.
“But wait. Later on that day I was going to charge my phone when Tommy came and snatched it. He started flying around, AGAIN, and playing keep away. I managed to get it back him but SOMEHOW it was fully charged. Like he was a tiny human charger!”
“Look, dear. I’m just as surprised as you that our son has superpowers.”
“You bet I am! And I know I don’t have anything like that, but you know who does?”
She started sweating. “Um... The Generator-“
“The Generator! Our friendly super charged crime fighter who I only ever see whenever you aren’t around. So... what really happens during your day?”
Gretel started stuttering. “I’m an accountant. Y-you know that... hehe...”
“Give up the act Gretel. Face it. You’re The Generator.”
“A-am not! Maybe you’re getting sick and seeing things-“ Gretel tried to deny she was the Generator, but then Tommy came in flying into our room. I aggressively gestured my hands to our 4 year old whose hair is about 3 centimeters away from the ceiling.
“Mommy? Can I sleep with you guys? I’m scared...” he said timidly. He pointed outside. “I think there’s a monster...”
Gretel reaches out to grab Tommy and hugged him. “Alright, let’s go see where this monster is.” She got up and they both went to his room. I need a way to make Gretel admit who she really is... | 2019-08-23T10:47:43 | 2019-08-23T06:49:08 | 113 | 22 |
[WP] You are the god of Nothing. Mercy on the fools who underestimate the title. |
#Think Nothing of the Fool
---
You've probably never heard of me, but I am the God of Nothing. Of the the ones who come across me, the common ask what the title means, the wise respect the title... But the fools? Let me tell a story, a warning of times gone by before you decide act. The story of having nothing.
&nbsp;
It has been a long time since anyone has stumbled upon my place of worship, my temple, and it is no longer the beauty that it was before. You see there once was an older gentleman before you from a long time ago who came here, a man forgotten by time. This man was one of the fools.
&nbsp;
Much like you he was on an expedition in search of me, but he had a much more personal motivation. His wife was dying and he happened upon one my scrolls leading him here. Unfortunately this desperate man was delirious. The moment he discovered I was the God of Nothing he became deranged, ordering his men to desecrate my temple.
&nbsp;
Of course, you can imagine that I felt disrespected, yet I am considerate God. So offered him a deal.
"Your wife will recover from her illness, but in return I want... Nothing."
&nbsp;
Of course, the fool accepted, arrogantly leaving just as he had entered. I of course kept my end of the bargain and his wife swiftly recovered. The fool rejoiced, thinking himself a conqueror of the Gods, intimidator in fact! But his life slowly began to change.
&nbsp;
As the passage of time went on the man, now aging began to slow down in life and relax in his old age, he would meet with his old friends and reminisce of old times. But the fool couldn't reminisce. More and more his friends would discuss their glory days yet the fool could not remember. He would return home from his friends late at night, losing his way and forgetting the directions. Details of his past would slip away and he wouldn't even notice.
&nbsp;
One day, he's sitting in his study, reading a novel when his lovely wife that he rescued many years before comes in to serve him tea and he looks her in the eye.
"Who are you?"
&nbsp;
He no longer remembered the wife he once cherished, the life he once made, the glory he once claimed. He was simply an old man, alone with his thoughts, alone with his emptiness. Not even realizing the passing of his wife not much later. So I decided to ask him one final question before leaving him be.
&nbsp;
"What do you remember, old fool?"
&nbsp;
"Nothing."
---
^Thanks ^for ^reading.
/r/Camel_Writes | [Poem]
God of Nothing
They call me the God of Nothing,
A title I know, full-well
Is meant to endear
To lessen their fear
Of my dragging them straight to hell
They call me the god of nothing.
A name that’s decidedly bland.
“No power at all,
No one to heed his call”
They say, all across the land.
They call me the God of Nothing.
The infinite void, always black
They shut up and walk,
Or they stay still and talk,
But they never, ever, look back.
They call me the God of Nothing.
Who sits on a nothing throne,
And wears a nothing crown,
And strolls through nothing town,
And rules over himself alone.
A better name would be the God of Destruction
A god that most everyone fears
I take something they love
And with just a gentle shove,
I make it so nothing is here.
I pity those who believe themselves out of the domain,
Of the God of Nothing, No one, no where, no when, and endless pain. | 2020-12-24T12:36:19 | 2020-12-24T12:08:29 | 135 | 59 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy.
We should have realized, should have listen, when Ensign Blaagk , played that recording he found from Earth's History.
"It is our Love of Nation , our way of life , of those we serve side by side with. We Defend we Avenge, we sacrifice, we bleed, and we are willing to Die for this unique creation. We Have been honed into a machine of lethal moving parts that you would be wise to avoid if you kno whats good for you. We will not be intimidated, we will not back down. We seen war, we don't want WAR. But if you Want WAR, there is one thing I can promise you, someone else will raise your sons and daughters."
All at high command thought this to be a comedy broadcast of forgotten ages. It was soo funny how tough the Humans were acting on the show. It must not be real. Or so High Command believed.
When the first wave of landing ships touchdown on the planet. The troops spilled out onto the open fields, still no humans there to meet them and bow down to our might.
But when our troops marched away from the drop ships. That is when All Hell Broke Loose. The drop ships came under direct attack. within 30 minutes the Humans had captured all the drop ships. In 3 hours our own drop ships were heading into orbit and began attacking the mother ship. Painted on the sides of all drop ships "TOTAL WAR"
Our ground troops had been ambushed several miles away from each landing site. The Humans had been hiding, in trees, under ground, in buildings, they dressed themselves like bushes, like rocks. Bombs, Bullets, Mortars, Rockets, Missiles slammed into our ground forces from every direction. Our troops had No time to get into formation, to get their kill ranks and squads formed up before the Humans cut them down. And cut our troops apart they did. Near one Landing site, Black clad small men with curved shiny blades dropped out of trees and cut our troops in half. Our comms channels was blocked by a Human saying repeating over and over, "Cry Havoc, and Loose the Dogs of WAR!"
We Never imagined they’d be this
ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to
a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They
thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them
The Mother ship has crashed into their planet, shield are down, all defenses are down, the crew is fighting compartment to compartment to try and hold the Humans back while they try and fix the interstellar emergency be-can. But the Humans destroyed the array in the first strike, and as soon as they breached the hull the made their way to command deck and executed all the officers there, by cutting their heads off, so the entire crew could see over vid screen. They then seized engineering and crashed the ship on purpose. There are Humans all over the ship. Those that are not fighting and killing the crew are stealing everything they can get their hands on.
I am hiding in a escape pod , watching the monitor screens, Lt. Blaagk last living officer of Earth Invasion Fleet. | We knew humans were weak. There wasn’t any possible doubt, as their military fleet was almost inexistant, and had for sole purpose to protect their ships against pirates. They only focused on diplomacy, and seemed to see any threat toward their world as a joke, saying that only a mad leader would declare war against another space empire.
With all those signs, it wasn’t much a surprise when the Nexelion’s empire declared war on humanity. What was surprising however, was human’s plea to end this conflict immediately, else they would use the power of mutually assured destruction. None of us understood what they meant back then, and assumed it as an empty threat.
War against humanity began as easily as the Nexilions had imagined, but as their campagne progressed, report of humanity abandoning their world to flee on untraceable ships began to multiply.
Then, the first human ship crashed into a Nexilion’s planet, soon followed by dozens of identical ships. Those empty husk, only designed to transcend the speed of light were humanity backing of their claim, as a simple strike erased planets and their armada from existence, and for the first time, all empires felt fear facing an unblockable strike that would instantly erase a civilization. The Nexilion empire was reduced in a day to a couple of isolated planets, incapable of subsisting on their own.
This, young ones, is the history of our lost empire, and the reason diplomacy became so important trough the galaxies, as no one want to share the fate of our people, the Nexilions. As for the humans, they are still out there, on their world ships, an invisible threat that almost devastated galaxies trough their of power | 2022-08-05T21:07:19 | 2022-08-05T20:58:31 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] Turns out, when a species reaches the stars, their ships resemble the characteristics of that species’ origins. Most other species have ultra fast, hard hitting spaceships, and a few are slow behemoths. But everyone is scared of the relentless, unstoppable humans. | A tone sounded deep in the aquatic interior of the *Deepsong*. Hyperspace signature. The lone occupant of the moon-sized ship took several more ticks to analyze his instruments and confirm: fleet emergence at the edge of the system. Admiral Stars Distorted by Waves informed the flotilla of smaller ships around his own mere moments before their own, lesser sensors would have detected the same signal.
"Could it be a third fleet?" - Wing Commander Chit.
"Intelligence didn't think they had that many ships remaining!" - Wing Commander Bel
"Mass and energy readings are within a standard deviation of the previous two fleets." - Wing Commander Tal
"Could this be a standard Human fleet size?" - Wing Commander Chit again
"They have never used standard fleet sizes before." - Wing Commander Tal
The Admiral, awash in fluid and sensor data inside his hulk of a ship let the fleet chatter wash over him. The Sark were a twitchy, tiny race, and their unfounded speculations would normally bother Stars - but in their combined fleet operations, he'd come to see that they could often arrive at a solution through a sort of stochastic process like this. He decided to let them run with it, while he sifted the data back and forth through his own massive brain - sloshing to and fro from axiom to axiom like a great tide.
It was then that he did something entirely uncharacteristic. In the long, slow history of his race, thrice had one of his kind blurted something without considering it further. The songs of those incidents still criss-crossed the oceans of his homeworld. Soon they would be adding a fourth.
"It's not the same *size* fleet - it is the *same* fleet" - Fleet Admiral Stars Distorted by Waves
The coms went momentarily silent. Then burst to transmission all around him, faster than he could sort into individual Sark vessels:
"Impossible, none of the ship configurations match anything we've seen before"
"Mass is 12% greater, it can't be the same"
"The last two Human fleets weren't identical either. Are you sure your water reclamation system is functioning, Admiral?"
Stars ignored them all. Already his massively parallel brain had compiled the truth into a digestible technical document. It detailed how the modules of the previous fleet had been repaired and reassembled. How the second fleet had been configured to run, in an attempt to flee the combined might of his War Cruiser and the flotilla of Sark attack ships - considered a nearly unbeatable joining of the galaxy's two ship paradigms. And how the current fleet was configured to assault exactly that fleet.
The Sark, skimming the document's summary, saw at once he was right and formed into traditional groups of seven for attack runs against the galaxy's greatest menace.
Their own brains weren't capable of processing the document all at once, or they would have seen what the Admiral had included in the second half: That the unbeatable mix of paradigms that was their combined fleet was already doomed.
The human fleet - already destroyed twice, once when caught unaware, and again when had re-built and tried to flee, was apparently done running. The crafty apes had re-assembled their ships from the wreckage, ready for war.
They had apparently let no scrap of data from their previous battles escape their notice, and had used it to rebuild and reconfigure their fleet with a quickness that would have shamed the Sark.
They had analyzed and constructed well - fast cutters with heavy point defense were cutting a path through the smaller Sark attack craft, and newly minted heavy penetrators capable of cracking the thick hull of the *Deepsong* were not far behind.
Admiral Stars Distorted by Waves had already analyzed their fleet assets, and his own, and seen his own doom. The human ships would suffer heavy losses, but no doubt the Humans would rebuild before later fleets could arrive.
He did not inform the Sark of their impending defeat; they would not fight the harder for it. Instead, he diverted the requisite portion of energy from defense to communications, to inform his homeworld of what he had seen.
Though, what they could do about a race with the sort of determination to re-build the same fleet from its own wreckage multiple times?
As the Admiral began to sing his death song into the waters of the *Deepsong*, he declined to transmit his last thoughts on the humans:
"We should never have destroyed their world. Before then, the Humans had been complacent. Now, despite all our efforts, they are unstoppable in their anger." | The head of an intergalactic space force turned his head in a way resembling nod of an apex predator rather than a civilized being. Turns out this ship is owned by Trigators, tall lizards with prolonged craniums and evil grin always sticked to their faces as a reminder of their ancient past. Their territorial enemies were gone now, but the face designed to kill remains and so does a feral grin of their space ship our hero Swan got himself on board of. Unlike the Gators, Swan was of a shorter statue with lean limbs resembling those of an Elvish royalty, but unlike them his eyes were more of a circle than a line and his ears were silly far from his head, leading your attention to a dark hair unlike anything space commanders are used to with space wandering mammals keeping their scalp either their natural blonde of higher classes or attempting to blend in with a permanent dye.
Gator's eyes widened as the humans monotone gait got swifter while he was approaching the last few meters to close off their distance into an intimate closeness unlike anything this race finds comfortable. Despite being a guest, his hand extended as he offered captain his hand in a friendly gesture. "Swan, nice to meet you." Gator's body fixed in a flex-like position mirrored his gesture with an unchanged facial expression as he introduced himself to an elite commander of Human Joined Forces. "Nexx!" Despite being short, the introduction revealed much of his diet as Swan's nose was filled with a smell of sweet-water fish and a foreign spice.
"I've heard you wanted to see me in person. I don't possess a knowledge of any alliance law we might have broken by our entrance. Is there anything else I should be worried about?" Nexxe's shoulders broadened up in a majestic gestures bringing out a full chest adorned with medals not common in this territorial league.
"It's the way you behave. The weapons. Not all of us will tolerate a foreigner and not all of us are scared to fight. You were let in with a faith of peaceful passing, but your actions on b-35 were noted and watched with a great concern. Your ship is armed with high-tech weapons unlike anything I've ever seen. I know your planet was being torn apart by war for many millennia, but unlike you, most of us are a peaceful breed. The looks can be deceiving.. Mr. Swan. Unlike humans, every other species develops a natural sense of peace before they enter a technological era, but yours is clearly different. Isn't it? Look through the window and tell me, what you see. It's flowers, trees, water, skies. Every ship parking in the dock is adorned with the things they value the most. Their shapes are twisted into intricate patterns revealing their very own sense of beauty they want to be known for. Now look at your left. Your poo shaped ship with a phallic gun sticking at each side is a thorn to our eyes. Its shape reveals nothing more than greed and soulless efficiency matched only by creations of the darkest corners of Universe inhabited by beasts of war. Now tell me... Mr. Swan, are you a beast?" | 2021-10-12T13:19:43 | 2021-10-12T10:48:37 | 38 | 22 |
[WP] You joined a mob. The boss asks you to prove your loyalty by killing your girlfriend. Failure to prove your loyalty will result in your loved ones dying. You look around the room at all the pictures and notice, you're dating daughter of the mafia boss. | Dimitri's eyes absentmindedly scanned the room as he flipped a silver coin over his knuckles. His lazy gait carried him to the worn leather chair which was placed oddly far from the large mahogany desk in the center of the study.
Smoke billowed, choking the air. A sickly yellow light did little to brighten the room, making the face of the man behind the desk difficult to examine.
"Hullo, Dimitri." The raspy, deep voice addressed him in English.
Dimitri bowed his head and stood beside the chair. He deposited the coin in his pocket and took a long drag off his cigarette, adding to the smoke in the room.
"Sir."
"Please, sit." A meaty hand with more rings than wrinkles suggestively gestured at the chair.
Dimitri glanced at the brown monstrosity, momentarily debating whether it was a demand or request before deciding it didn't matter. He pulled up his pant legs before relaxing back in the chair.
"Do you know why I called you here, boy?" The man held his hands together over his rotund stomach, a cigar wedged between his fingers.
Dimitri cleared his throat, his eyes casually assessing the two overgrown men that flanked the desk on either side before he shook his head slowly.
"I have job for you. It is time you prove your worth. Your... loyalty."
Dimitri was silent for several moments before he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, his dark hair falling to cover half his face.
"Nikolai, may I ask why you think my loyalty is in question?"
The man leaned forward, smashing out his cigar in a yellowing glass ashtray. He placed his hands on the desk and sighed.
"Do you want to die, Dimitri?"
The meathead to the left of the desk shifted, straightening his back. His hands were in rigid fists on either side of him. The man to the right adjusted the automatic rifle he cradled against his shoulder, just enough for Dimitri to take notice.
"Of course not, Nikolai. What can I do?"
Nikolai stood, running his hands along the desk as he walked slowly around to the other side. He leaned back against it once he was in full view of the man he once trusted.
"Kill the woman you love. You do this. For me. And I will let you live."
It took everything in him to not react. His heart raced, he could feel his eyebrows relaxing back to the position they were in when he carelessly walked into this meeting.
He couldn't speak.
"Will you do this for me?"
"I..." but the words were stuck.
"You have eight hours. You leave now."
Dimitri stood, bowing his head stiffly. He walked out the door and left the house, throwing his cigarette into the gravel drive way and began cursing.
Pulling out his phone, he tapped in a phone number from memory. His part-time lover answered, her voice coated in honey.
"Hey baby... I haven't seen you in days. Come make it up to me."
"Tasha, he knows." Dimitri said through gritted teeth. He lit another cigarette as he got into his car.
"What the fuck! How can you be sure?" The sultry vixen was gone and in its place a raging hellcat appeared.
"He wants me to prove my loyalty by killing you."
He had to pull the phone away from his ear as she raged, glass broke as a stream of angry Russian poured out of the phone before it went dead.
He sighed as he put the car into gear and peeled out of the driveway, throwing gravel into the fountain. From a window above, the curtain fell closed as Nikolai smirked with amusement before an end table went flying out of another room and crashed into the hedges below.
Edit: For Vanity r/WhimsyWrites
Edit: [Part 2: Direction](https://www.reddit.com/r/WhimsyWrites/comments/7hvcbh/direction/)
Edit AGAIN!: [Part 3: Promises](https://www.reddit.com/r/WhimsyWrites/comments/7lvmlq/promises/) | "Is this the new recruit?" The man behind the desk looked me over as I stared at him defiantly.
"This is...Toni." The burly bodyguard crossed his arms uncomfortably and shuffled his feet nervously.
"The name is Antonia but I go by Toni. I knew I wouldn't get taken seriously if you knew I was a woman."
The slightly diminutive man behind the desk crossed his fingers in thought. He looked familiar but I couldn't place where I had seen him before. "Marcus, we will need to talk about your vetting process at a later time," he said softly but with a hard edge to his voice that made the muscular man next to him turn white. "I was expecting a man with the name Tony and you do not fit the bill. You are a woman and this isn't the kind of business for a woman."
I laughed derisively. "Oh, and what kind of business am I as a woman suited for? Cleaning the house and cooking? Staying home with all the kids I pop out? Sorry to burst your bubble but this is the 21st century. Women aren't delicate flowers. I have no desire to stay home and do nothing with my life. I know what this job entails and I think you'll find I am a suitable candidate."
Marcus looked more apprehensive as I spoke but the Boss looked at me with a pensive look on his face. "So, Toni, what would you be willing to do to prove that you have what it takes?"
"Name it," I answered instantly.
"If you fail this test, your family will be killed for your insolence. I want you to kill your boyfriend."
"No can do, Big Boy," I responded.
"Well, I suppose we will have to find your family to send you a message," he said with a grin on his face that told me he thought that he won.
"I should clarify. I don't have a boyfriend but I do have a girlfriend."
The Boss exchanged looks with Marcus and then said, "Well, then you must kill her."
As I gazed at this man with salt and pepper hair, I instantly knew where I recognized him from. "Do you have a daughter?" I inquired.
"Yes. She is the light of my life."
"Does your daughter have a boyfriend?" I asked him with a smile creeping on to my face.
He waved his hand dismissively. "Some schmuck. She is always breaking up with some guy."
I looked at him with a giant smile and said, "Mr. Miano, I take it that Isabella hasn't talked about me. Don't you know your daughter is a lesbian?" | 2017-12-02T19:13:25 | 2017-12-02T17:53:01 | 296 | 180 |
[WP] Your family line suffers from a pirate curse: A demonic shark will manifest itself in nearby sources of water and harrow you and your ancestors. You live three-hundred miles from any body of water and this has made the shark get...creative. | "Shit. This was a bad idea."
I jumped up from the couch in a panic, my laptop flipping off my knees and scattering my breakfast across the glass coffee table.
"Who - what..." But there was no one there. How tanked had I gotten last night, anyway? My head was pounding, there were Fruit Loops stuck to my keyboard, and now I was hearing voices. And people thought I was batshit crazy already.
I grabbed some paper towels from the kitchen and a spray bottle to clean up the mess.
"Fucking vinegar. Who cleans with vinegar?!"
"Aaaagh! What the hell?" The voice was unmistakeable, but there was no one in the room. Hell, there wasn't a soul for miles. Just sand, redrock and sage.
"It's me, dipshit."
The voice was in my head. I don't mean that I imagined it. I mean it was *in* my head. It was real, and that meant...
It couldn't be. But there was no other explanation... "Ju'awhe?"
"Yes, asshole. In the flesh. Oh, that's rich - 'In the flesh'." The voice trailed off in unintelligible grumbling.
"But - how? What -? I don't understand. Where are you?"
"I ran out of options. Moving to the desert wasn't all that novel, but you really committed to the part. How the hell can someone live off whiskey and dry goods alone? You forced me to get creative."
I was confused, but starting to put the pieces together. My own personal Demon, Ju'awhe the Render, had been dogging my steps since my 18th birthday. It was a family thing. Thanks, great-great-whoever. Way to go, pissing off Calypso. Good move, there.
"So you - " I began, but the voice in my head cut me off sharply.
"Yes! You didn't leave me any alternative, you mortal prick. 60% water. All you meat bags. It was all I had left to work with."
"Oh, jesus - that's gross. You're actually *inside* me??" I was used to the ever-present sense of dread our family curse brought with it, but I'd never before felt...violated.
"Now you're catching on, bright boy."
"Then why aren't I dead? And why do you sound... I don't know... kind of normal? I would have thought you'd be all 'Forsooth, Your Doom has Arrived!!' or something. You sound like a pissed off New York cabbie."
"Yeah. That's the thing. 60% ain't enough to really get me *here*... not all the way. I'm not exactly myself, ya'know? I'm 40% you, and unless you feel like chewing your arms and legs off... well, we're both screwed."
"Oh. Ok." I sat down back down on the couch. My life had never been normal, but this was taking things to a new level. While the future certainly looked less terrifying, I had a sinking feeling the new paradigm was going to bring whole new vistas of annoyance.
"What now?" I asked.
"Beats me. Jesus, we smell. When was the last time you took a bath?"
| "Well I think it's pretty obvious what's wrong with your water heater," said the repairman, "there's something moving in it!"
My poor water heater was covered in dents protruding outward. It was shaking from the beast inside it, which kept bumping its head against the wall, creating even more dents. The shark never seemed to mind the temperature of the water, or the salt content, or anything else besides the size of the container. The first time the shark appeared the water heater simply burst and the shark vanished. It took me an embarrassingly long time to connect the shark appearing in the toilet with the water heater being destroyed. After that I made sure I buy a water heater that was shark sized. It seemed to work for a while, but this heater was on its knees from dealing with the shark.
I sighed. "Yep. There sure is."
"What... is that thing?"
"Demon shark."
He looked at me incredulously. "Demon shark?"
"Demon shark."
"...Why?"
"It appears in the largest body of water near me. That would be my water heater."
"...Okay... what do you need from me then? This isn't something I can, you know, fix."
"Is there a water heater that can withstand a demon shark inside it?"
The repairman went through several facial expressions. "...Um, well, maybe, I'll see what I can find. I don't make any promises. Your situation is very... unique."
"I'm well aware."
"Yeah, I'll make a few calls and come back to you if I find anything."
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it."
| 2018-11-22T08:29:23 | 2018-11-22T08:26:33 | 1,908 | 672 |
[WP] You're mindlessly scrolling through random subreddits when you find a subreddit filled with photos of you at different hours of the day, explanations of all your activities, people discussing what life decisions you'll take. Confused, you notice a new post titled: "We've been found!" | It was amusing at first. For about 3 seconds. Until I realized who they were talking about.
My days at work were slow and boring, filled with tedious tasks that took about an hour. Which left me with 7 more to fill. I remember the joy I felt when I realized that reddit wasn't blocked on my work computer.
Now I wished I'd never discovered that.
The titles were innocuous, **Looking at Dog Breeds Again** or **Taking More Pictures of the Cats.** I thought it was just another animal sub, as I followed a lot of them. A *lot*. But then I looked into the sub, planning to follow it too.
And the banner at the top of the sub caught my eye. Or well, my eyes caught my eye. It was me, smiling my squinty smile into a camera.
"What the *fuck*?!" I muttered to myself, scrolling down to the pinned posts.
It was unusual in that it was just... usual. Posting rules, being polite and all that shit. But the biggest rule was that they were only allowed to post about *me.* It even had my name. My full name. I was careful about my reddit post, only mentioning in general where I lived and worked, nothing about my personal life. But they *knew* me.
And under the posts I saw wasn't just general info about looking for a dog breed, but me looking for one. I wasn't allowed to get a dog where I lived, but still looked into it sometimes in the general thought of 'what if'. And the post pointed that out!
At first I thought it was a prank by my roommates who loved to mess with me. But the next post was a candid shot of last Tuesday, I recognized the skirt I was wearing. And my roommates both work on Tuesday.
There were more pictures, me at the grocery store, me mowing my front yard, me reading in my car... me sleeping!
Some were taken from pictures my friends and family had taken, or directly from my own social media accounts.
The text posts interspersed here and there talked about my freaking life. How often I'd visit my dad, what I was doing from day to day, things I'd said to one person or another.
"What in the Truman Show fuck is this?"
I'm not anyone important. Not a celebrity or anything like that.
I scrolled for a bit in morbid fascination, trying to find out how far back the posts went. I got about as far as the day I graduated high school when the page auto refreshed. And then everything was gone, save for one post.
**We've Been Found**
Attached was a picture of the back of my head, and over my shoulder was the subreddit. I spun around in my chair as quickly as I could, but no one was there.
The first comment was from one of the sub's moderators. SecretAdmirer21, who had made the post said, "Worry not, my intrepid admirers! I'll PM everyone when we set up a new subreddit! It'll be better hidden this time."
I shivered. | "We've been found!" cried the post that ballooned at the top of my notifications list. "He's onto us!"
I tapped on my phone screen and was immediately directed to a strange post. "Posted by u/Admirer10029," exclaimed the fine text. "Just now."
The subreddit, simply titled r/TheArchive, housed an eerie and utterly perplexing assemblage of photos: the subject being my face. All of them tracked my doings and activities, depicting *me* as I slogged through my daily routine. Posts like **Brushing Teeth** and **Going to Bed** displayed rather unsavory images of my private life.
I tapped on u/Admirer10029's profile and was transported to a cluster of r/TheArchive posts. His daily ramblings ranged from **Examining His Dog Breed Preferences** to **A Comment on His Unhealthy Habits**. I clicked on the latter and grimaced. He had pinpointed my every flaw and mannerism, analyzing them to the depth of human contemplation.
I was truly flabbergasted. I wandered through the r/TheArchive and scanned the posts. Some were directed to my eating habits, other scrutinized my love life. I looked at the moderators, but they only turned out to be u/Admirer20045 and u/Admirer57181.
I was still maneuvering the subreddit when I heard a voice behind me.
"Come on Mr. Trump. It's time to give your speech." | 2020-06-30T08:46:44 | 2020-06-30T07:27:11 | 3,807 | 607 |
[WP] At the same moment, every single person on earth sees a blinding light and hears the words, "In 10 seconds, you will be granted one wish. 10... 9... 8..." | No one believed it was real. The flash that stunned most of us, and the even more surreal message that followed. Ten seconds to make a wish. Seems innocent enough right? Like something out of a fairy tale! Even the tales have a catch and this was no different.
Many had no idea what to do, and sat there stunned until well past the deadline. Some of the more imaginative among us got it the worst. Ever wish you could fly? Well unless you specified how, it apparently hurt like hell to grow wings.
Matter of fact most superpowers backfired horribly. The superspeeders that didn't end up as paint stains on a wall, had most of the flesh stripped from their bodies. At least three flyers plummeted to their death after passing out at high altitude. The telepaths went insane almost instantly.
Did you know money is a finite resource? We found that out the hard way. For everyone whose bank account grew, another's shrank. In some cases a loved one passed and left them money. Coincidence? Maybe, but the death toll spiked that day, almost as much as the markets crashed just days after. Some corporations went completely bankrupt.
Any wish was granted, no matter how impossible. It seems kids were in on the action too, unleashing all manner of strange things on the world. There were sightings of everything from aliens to zombies, and everything in between. Two poachers were found gored with a broken unicorn horn in their chest.
It was chaos. What we thought was a blessing doomed us all. At least it seemed that way. There was still something left in this Pandora's box we opened. One quick thinking man. Some say he's a hero.
Everyone he knew before this just called him an asshole. His one wish? After a week, turn back the clock to where we were, and take back all the wishes. When asked why, if you could wish for everything, would you do that? He claimed that he "likes things the way they are. If everyone got what they wanted things either will go horribly wrong, or be incredibly boring. Dave don't do boring." When asked what if he'd ruined utopia, his answer was as simple as it was bold. "Fuck it."
Sorry, stream of thought post on mobile. Might fix it up later.
| "In 10 seconds, you will be granted one wish."
*Just me or everybody else too?*
"10..."
*I can't think of any reason why it would just be me*
"9..."
*It's far more likely it will apply to everybody*
"8..."
*Several people are bound to ask for positive things for all of humanity*
"7..."
*Several others will ask for negative, if not downright catastrophic, things*
"6..."
*So how can that impasse be resolved*
"5...4...3..."
*Oh! I know...*
"2...1..."
*I wish for everybody to immune to the effects, direct or indirect, of any other wishes they would deem detrimental to themselves.*
| 2015-04-04T11:35:53 | 2015-04-04T10:42:24 | 25 | 14 |
[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 have the best boobs in the world.
I'm not, like, egotistical or anything. Heck, some days I don't even want them, but it's undeniable. That was my mutation. April 24th, 2014, the day I developed the best pair of breasts anyone has ever had.
At first, I was actually a little stoked. I mean, my rack is *amazing*. It doesn't matter what I'm wearing, they look good. They fill t-shirts out wonderfully, and even in sweaters and jackets the gentle curves show just right, enticing the viewer and leaving them wanting more. And tank tops? Forget about it.
And sure, I do get treated different. I can go just about anywhere these days, and any guy is willing to pretend to be interested in what I have to say – even a lot of women I meet will at least give me a second glance, if not special treatment. I certainly have my pick of the litter when it comes to sexual partners, and let me tell you: I am *enjoy*ing my youth.
Don't get me wrong, though, there are downsides. Just about *everyone* stares. It's hard to really engage someone in conversation. I've seen grown men cry from the effort of maintaining eye contact with me. And the starers, the criers, they're the good ones. I can't ride the subway without being felt up, I don't dare be alone at night without people I trust, many women openly resent me, and all of this is seen as normal. I'm just the Great Tits, as if nobody's even expected to *try* to maintain decorum around me.
But you know none of this is even the worst aspect, not really. More than any of this, there's one thing about my boobs that keeps me up at night, one thing that makes me worry about how the rest of my life is going to play out.
Even with my beard, nobody will believe I'm a guy. | "Dude, this is incredible... I've never seen anything like it"
"It's not as good as you think, I don't even know how to fit it all in my pants. I mean, like, I guess I could put one on each side?"
"Yeah but imagine all the chicks you could get!"
"I don't know man..."
"Listen, how about you do an AMA on reddit to see what people think?" | 2022-05-10T21:44:19 | 2015-03-04T03:47:16 | 1,457 | 336 |
[WP] Finally, the ultimate MMORPG has been created, unlimited choice and room to grow and expand your character. There's just one issue, it's so realistic, nobody can remember which life they are living, and which is the game. | "You're telling me that none of this is real?" I gestured to my beautiful wife and children, to my home and car. To the beautiful blue sky and the relentless summer sun.
"Sir, I'm sorry to inform you but your User Occupancy has expired according to our registry."
Beads of sweat rolled down my forehead and yet the man before me was cool as ice in his business suit.
I frowned. "Okay buddy."
"You have until noon to claim the renewal package and continue your experience."
I checked my wristwatch. I had less than two minutes before noon.
I chuckled to myself, "And if I don't claim this... renewal package? What's going to happen huh?"
"You will simply be ejected from this reality," the man said all matter-of-factly.
I didn't like the sound of that. "Is that a threat?!" I shouted angrily.
Suddenly I could hear crying from my two year old daughter. I glanced behind me and saw my wife and children staring. My wife held Amy in her arms tightly, her face deep with concern.
"Dad is everything okay?" asked my brave son who learned how to ride a bike just yesterday.
"Yea David," I called back. "Don't worry everything is fine."
I looked at my wife, her long brown hair flowed elegantly around her shoulders and chest.
"Get the wallet," I said and my wife's eyes went wide.
I turned my attention back to the man.
"Sir, you have 42 seconds until your ejection from this reality."
"Hey. Is it money you want? How much?" I asked.
"In order to claim the renewal package you must manually disconnect-"
My wife tapped my shoulder with a finger. In one swift motion, I grabbed the shotgun, brought it close to my hips and pulled the trigger.
"Good job Jess," I said. She had remembered what I had told her about 'Get the wallet'.
"Honey!" she shrieked.
Two things happened in an instant. First, the man in the business suit had disintegrated, crumbling to tiny blocks of pixels and fading into nothing.
Second, another man, identical in appearance stepped out of my neighbor's door from across the street. He pointed at me with a finger.
A blue flash of light, and a beam lanced through the air to puncture me right through my chest.
My wife screamed.
I turned to look at my wife, her face an expression of abject horror. I looked down at my chest.
A clean hole the size of my fist through my chest. There was nothing inside me, no internal organs, no blood.
Darkness pervaded my mind.
And then there was light. A bright white light that twisted and formed letters.
It read, '*Disconnected*'.
----------
/r/Em_pathy
| People called it one of the greatest accomplishments in gaming history. A game in which you didn't play, *you lived.* On the release date there were 50 million sales; it was the most popular game of all time.
It didn't last for long though.
A doctor, who was also an avid gamer, had decided to try it out. The stories, the world and the experience. Nothing else was like it. After a few days in the sim, the doctor woke up. He walked from his desk to his closet and hung himself, leaving only a note. It read "I cannot come back into this hell."
At first people were shocked. Why did he do it? He had a wife, kids and an amazing job. That is until the developers released his in-game-name to the public.
TheMightySwooord was the just an ordinary player, but he had built a life for himself in the sim. He had a girlfriend, friends and had completed hundreds of quests. But when he woke up, he had to come back into the real world.
He was so caught up in dreaming that he couldn't take the thought of reality anymore. So he logged off. | 2018-02-19T09:27:33 | 2018-02-19T08:52:05 | 645 | 25 |
[WP] you are perfectly safe in your bunker, you have plenty of food and water and even plumbing. The problem is that you are alone and there is a zombie outside. Out of sheer boredom you teach it to speak, and now it's trying to convince you to let it in. | \*Bzzt\* "Hey, Dave. Davie boy. Wassup?"
You rub your tired eyes as your aching body rises from your cot.
"What, Frank?" You ask, but you know it's just the same bullshit as always.
"How you doing today, man? Head still full of brains?"
You check the calendar as the soft hum of florescent lights drills little by little into your throbbing skull. "Feel like shit, like the last time you asked." You rub your orbits to try and soothe the pounding. "Still hung over, at the very least."
"Oh, that sucks." You hear Frank's wet flesh lean against the door as he chuckles. "I remember hang overs. Don't miss those! But uh, you didn't answer my second question."
You check your watch, it's 11:34. Hell. "Yeah, but today I really wish they weren't."
You hear the wet sound again, this time, a loud slap. "OH! I can help you with that, you know! Really easy, wouldn't even hurt!" You can practically hear him salivating through the steel bulkhead.
"You're doing the thing again, Frank." Your scrape the dry crust from your eyes. "I *told* you, I'm not letting you in."
"What? Me? Nonononono, I wasn't even *thinking* about that! It was uh, ummm..." He's probably doing the hand twirl thing right now. "... A visualization exercise!"
"Visualization exercise?"
"Yeah, like, that self-help stuff! You know, makes your brains feel better!"
"My brain feel better?" You attempt to stand, but the spinning room sits you right back down. "And you want my brain to feel better because...?"
"It improves the flavor!—I MEAN, because I wanna do you a favor! For uh, re-tearching me how to talk!"
Sometimes you really wish you didn't, but when he's not begging to give you a bite, he's really not bad conversation. You decide to give him a bite.
"Hey, no problem, Frank. So what's this exercise entail-"
Suddenly, you hear screaming and sloppy banging on the door, followed by Frank's panicked voice.
"AHHH! DAVE!! THERE'S A FIRE OUT HERE!!! YOU GOTTA LET ME IN! I'M GONNA GET ROASTED!"
You check the camera feed. Lo and behold, it's just Frank doing an exaggerated double take over his shoulder while slapping the door like an idiot. He obviously still doesn't know about the camera.
"Frank, this is a cave. There's no way a fire can even start in here."
"IT'S ONE OF THOSE KENTUCKY WALKING FIRES, DAVE! TUMBLED RIGHT DOWN IN HERE! YOU EVER WATCH THE GODDAMN NATIONAL GEOGRAPHICS!?"
"No, fuck off. Let me sleep."
"You're a real cold sonuvabitch, Dave. This would never happen if you'd just let me eat your fucking brains." | "Let me in, please."
Not this again. I teach one zombie to speak, and now it wants in? Honestly.... "For the last time, no matter how cute you are, a zombie is a zombie is a zombie! I'd rather be lonely and alive than have company eating my brain." She reacted in the usual way. "I'm not going to eat you, jerk. I just want in." I sighed. "Why? What exactly do you need for me to let you in?"
"Um.....reasons." Nope. No chance. "Can't let you in if you don't specify. Anyways, it's late, and I'm going to sleep. Goodnight." That was the last thing I remember saying before waking up to the zombie closing the bathroom door. I knew it was her because I heard her singing in the shower. After she got out, dressed again, she saw that I was pissed. "Alright, out with it. How did you get in?"
"The doors opened. Must have been a security failure. Some other zombies walked in, and I killed them. I fixed the security mechanisms so that it doesn't happen again." I was skeptical. "And....you're doing this instead of eating me?" "Greg, you're the only one I've been able to properly talk to in years! How could I eat you?"
"Fair. Just don't break my trust, OK, Zee?" She nodded. "OK." | 2021-09-29T12:42:19 | 2021-09-29T11:55:45 | 30 | 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. | One knows when they're in the presence of something ancient. A turn of phrase, the way their gaze meets yours, the way the air around them hangs, as though to communicate an unspoken form of reverence. Or fear. Simple folk like to trade their wives tales, attempts at justifying the things that exist just outside their conceptions. Makes them feel better.
I wonder what they'd say about me.
But my gift, a paltry glimpse into the age of those who cross my path, is nothing compared to the man- er, woman? Hard to tell after so many years. Anyway. Is nothing compared to the figure who comes, every eight months like clockwork, to visit our humble distillery. The first time I met them I thought, sure. Someone's slipped me something. Just because I can see the age of things doesn't make me immune to tampering. And I've been at this for a few decades.
All this to say, the first time I met the man (at the time) who saved my life, I had difficulty believing he was nearly four-thousand years old.
"Been around a while, then?"
"Oh, I dread to think."
"What brings you 'round the Juicy Jailer then?"
"It really wasn't my decision. Just passing through, I suppose."
"Not much inside worth your time, I'd think."
"Well. You'd be surprised what I find when I'm not looking."
Turned out he was right, as later that evening we learned the distillery had been housing an underground warehouse what took people and stuffed 'em into tin suits. Sy-buh whatitsorsomething' he called them. Made this dreadful, monotonous speech about "upgrading" everyone. But quick as a flash, this man had done them in and cleared out just as quickly as he'd come. I asked for his name, but he gave me his vocation instead. Weird bloke.
But you never can tell with Time Lords, can you?
| It was a day like any other
Deflect the young,
Accept the one
But before my eyes,
A double of a 12, 1212
And then I knew:
I always thought children would joke
That it was just the writers
Making fluff and fun merry for views
And before my eyes,
A pair of kids, stacked like dishes
Wobbling about
And a guffaw let out. | 2017-09-01T23:22:02 | 2017-09-01T22:38:31 | 62 | 13 |
[WP] You are an average Joe who is challenged by a random super hero every week. Your record is 337-0. | I look down at my watch. It's 7:00 P.M, which means the sun is finally set and night has begun. It’s also Thursday, which means that any minute…
Yup. There’s a knock on my door. I laugh to myself. Usually, they just crash through the window or walls, which means I always have a carpenter come in on Friday. A knock was pretty polite.
I walk over to the door, open it, and see some sort of b-list Superhero standing there. All the really weak ones from the Super Nation had come first, and I beat them easily. Then they got worried, sent in the top guns, and I beat them too. They were just sending anyone they had at this point.
This guy’s cocky, I can feel it. He has this black leather suit, a red D in the middle of it. He has on a standard leather mask and hood, trying to be intimidating in anyway he can.
“Michael Mac,” he says, “ you are needed at the Super Nation. This is your only chance for you to peacefully comply”
I lean up against the wall, not worried at all.
“I’m sorry, but who are you?” I ask him.
He’s surprised by how laid back I am. The other heroes obviously haven’t told him much about me.
“I am Discard!”
“Never heard of ya. You know, if White Matter or Earth can’t take me, what makes you think you can?”
“Because they can’t erase things!”Discard takes down his hood, and red energy starts to stream from his face and body, swirling all around him. As it touches my walls, the paint starts to peel.
“Great,” I mumbled to myself, “now I have to get a painter in here too.”
“Don’t worry,” Discard smirked. “You’ll be in jail before you can do that.” He charges at me, his red energy streaming behind him. I didn’t move, simply stayed there. He plummets into me, and we both fall onto the ground.
He wasn’t expecting me to do nothing, and doesn’t know what to do now. I do. I grab the chair next to me, a solid metal one, and pull the leg so it falls on top of him. Startled, he turns around and I push him off of me. I look down, and see my plaid shirt is all white. Other than that, I'm fine.
“Ah, come on dude. You’ve got the lamest powers ever.”
He starts to get up, but I swing the chair and hit him in the head. He doesn’t have super strength, and gets knocked out pretty easily. That chair alone has taken down 130 heroes. “Alright. Let’s go.”
I grab his arm and drag him out my door, throwing him on my lawn. Then I pull out my cell phone and call the person who sent him.
She picks up.
“Discard, did you get him?”
“No, Mom. He did not get me.”
“God damnit! You know, you could just come and visit me every now and then. I wouldn’t have to come and send my hero friends to come and get you.”
“Try and get me,” I corrected her. “338 times now and they haven’t gotten me once. Because no matter what, I’m not coming to see you.”
“You know, just cause your ex was a super villain and I killed her…”
“Yes, it does mean I can’t visit you. She didn’t need to die. Now just send someone to pick up Discard.”
“Fine. Goodnight, Michael. I love you.”
“Bye, Mom.” I’m about to hand up, then I remember I have something to tell her. “Wait, actually, one more thing.”
“What is it?!” I can feel the excitement in her voice.
“Can I borrow some money? I’m behind on rent.”
| I felt a rush of endorphins as hero number 337 fell by my side, defeated and in agonizing pain. He was visibly aching, tightly clutching his now broken ribcage and my boot was atop his neck.
"You guys are making this *too* easy," I said as I removed my foot from the hero and helped him back up to his feet. "Don't you have anything better to do?"
He looked at me through his torn eye mask and found a moment's reprieve from the pain to respond. "You have something we want."
"Yeah, yeah- I know. Number 336 said the *same* thing."
"Then why are you-" he stopped to cough up some blood before continuing. "Making this so difficult?"
"Look, I'm only gonna say this *one* more time, so listen closely."
I stopped to make sure the hero was paying attention.
"You might wanna take notes, since this seems like a hard message to understand."
He blinked, then nodded, as if yielding to the victor.
"You. *Ain't.* EVER. Getting my tree fiddy."
"But-" I cut Captain Sprinkles off as I grabbed his forearm and pinned him to the ground, one snap away from a clean break. His grunts of pain reflected my actions, and only tempted me more to snap his arm off.
"Do you understand? Are we on the same page now?"
"Yes! Let me go!"
"What did I say? Repeat it."
"We aren't-"
I added more force as I slowly pulled his arm back.
"*Ain't ever*," I corrected him atop his screaming for mercy.
"Ain't *ever*," he repeated, "getting your tree fiddy."
"Good." I dropped his arm as it made a meaty slap against the hard pavement. "Now get out of my face."
"You'll regret this, Average Joe!" Captain Sprinkles made an effort to fly away, but was so weak he hit a lightpost on the upward flight. The audible "ding" coupled with the indentation of a chiseled face and curly-q hairstyle is still fresh in my memory.
Instead, the Captain took the bus back home. Leaning out the window, he yelled : "Wait until the Comission hears about this!"
Pfff. What are they gonna do- send number 339?
| 2016-11-19T18:53:52 | 2016-11-19T16:56:25 | 103 | 15 |
[WP] You are a superhero, no one knows about your alter ego. Not even your spouse. You return home tired and disappointed one day after failing to capture your archnemises. You enter your bedroom to find your spouse struggling to get out of the costume of your archnemises. | Well, shit.
Shit shit shit.
Shit.
I knew my wife was a judge, of course.
But how could I have missed it that she was The Judge, righter of wrongs, my archnemesis?
Judge, jury, and executioner, with only one sentence.
Death.
I probably should've figured out, though. They both wore that stupid RBG collar. How could I not have known? Except for the hood, their robes were identical.
Except that the robes she was hanging in her closet were torn from the fight we'd just had an hour ago.
I stepped back, out of sight. But the cat was right behind me. He hissed.
"Paul? Is that you?"
"Ya, sorry I didn't text," I answered, my brain on autopilot. "I was running late at work. Didn't have time to pick anything up at the store. You want to order something, instead?"
I was playing for time, trying to figure out what to do.
Why did she have to be The Judge? It was like Bruce Wayne going to pick up Selina Kyle for a date, and finding out that she was really Harliquin, instead of Catwoman.
I slipped my go bag off my shoulder and reached inside for my emergency kit. I always have a flashbang and a tangler in there.
After almost twenty-five years of marriage, how could I not have known?
She stepped out of her closet in yoga pants and a t-shirt over a sports bra, what she usually wore around the house. I silently cursed myself for never realizing that it was the perfect thing for The Judge to wear under her robes. I usually wore skintights under my clothes, so that I can slip into my body armor quickly.
I saw her eyes widen, as she noticed the cut on my face, where she'd hit me, driving the edge of my mask into my cheek. Usually the reactive material of my uniform distributes the blow, leaving a red mark that fades quickly, but this time she'd hit me just right.
I could tell she knew that I knew.
She started to say something as I pulled the tangler out of my bag, but she dropped and swept my feet out from under me, then followed it up with a kick. I was dazed.
When my vision cleared, she was leaning over to kiss me on the forehead.
"You know I love you, right? I've known who you were for awhile now, which is why I've been pulling my punches. But I can't let even you stop me. I sentence you to--" | "That was you the WHOLE TIME?!" You yelled exhausted and confused. You didnt know what to think. How could you even let this happen.
"What? Nooooo. Definitely not me." The other quickly chimed in. He didn't want anyone to figure out who he really was. And this would only ruin their marriage.
"Then what the fuck did I just walk into?!" You said loudly now cofused. You knew it. You honestly didnt mind, knowing know that it was your lover you had been chasing around. It had all been making sense now. The robberies, the thefts, the chases. He wanted attention. Attention he would get.
The other looks up only to see you come barreling towards him and landing on your bed. It creaked with protest as the covers poofed up around both of you. Your spouse groaned and giggled as he was attacked by kisses all over his face.
So today wasnt too bad of a loss for you at all. | 2020-10-30T12:35:43 | 2020-10-30T12:14:23 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] Humans are the least intelligent species on Earth. The entire animal kingdom plays along out of pity for our idiocy. | The blue whales had finally had enough. They were the current leaders of the world council, and had made the choice after a hundred years of deliberations. Humans could not be allowed to continue in this way. They knew this decision would be taken different ways by different species. They slowly started singing their decision to other wales of the world who then passed it on to other species. Everybody but humans knew the language of whales. It took several months until the whale council was certain that every species except a few had received the message.
This decision had already been made by the fire ants a long time ago. They knew it would take forever for the whales to make up their mind so they planned ahead. They had built up their resistances to all kinds of poisons and toxins and spread all over the earth. They were just waiting for the right time to strike. The time had come.
The cat regime had been scheming for thousands of years of ways to take over the world and make things difficult for humans. This was just another step.
The cat regime let everyone know to "not full on attack humans, because they would lose." Getting them with small stuff first would be the way to go. They began with leaving the carcasses of dead rats/mice in places where humans wouldn't find them until the rotting began.
The flys/mosquitos of the world knew that this method would work great for them as well since they placed their eggs as soon as the body was set.
The rats and mice didn't like this idea but knew they had to work together so they were given the task of finding the worst diseases possible and infecting old rats with it before they died.
This had a double effect because once the mosquitos hatched from their eggs they were also infected and then went on their mission as attack squadrons of hundreds or thousands at a time. This deal would slowly make the humans sick and the humans were dumb enough to believe that the cats were just being good animals to show off their kills to them.
edit: A little formatting. | Kinda of what the Quran says. I remember reading a passage once that God wanted to give consciousness to animals but they all refused. Knowing that consciousness would come with responsibilities such as avoiding sins. Really, they just wanted to do their every day business without worrying about if they will go to heaven or not.
So God created another creature which would have consciousness, humans.
In that sense, I guess the animals are smarter. | 2017-10-22T03:32:05 | 2017-10-22T02:42:04 | 30 | 10 |
[WP] You are the Evil Overlord. You have kidnapped the princess. Unfortunately, she developed Stockholm Syndrome. And she is far more evil and insane than you are. | How the devil was I supposed to get rid of her? This nightmare I had unwittingly assumed responsibility for? She might be the death of me. Already, she'd torn down several priceless antique tapestries to redecorate, defiled my inner sanctum with flowers painted on the stone wall, and had the place guards roast my prisoners alive. I'd needed the prisoners for information! And as for why the palace guards were dumb enough to take orders from the five foot one, petite, blue eyed, blonde haired creature, was beyond me.
'That's not true,' a voice whispered in my mind. 'They obey her, because they are far more scared of her, than they are of you.' I waved the irritating voice away. No way in the nine pits of the infernal realm was that itty bitty girl more...
"DARLING!" I shuddered. Please no. "Look what I found for us!" She chirped. Her voice was so annoying. And her laughter was even worse. Every second of it caused me to cringe.
I turned to face her. "Why aren't you in your cell?" I demanded.
She pouted. "But DARLING!" She whined. "It's so boring in there. I'd much rather be out here with you! And look what I brought you!" She beamed as she held out a human finger, dripping blood onto my expensive gold inlay carpet.
"Why do you have a finger?" I asked in exasperation.
"Not a finger silly. It's a ring!" She smiled so innocently. As I took a second look, there was indeed a ring encircling the base of the finger. Lovely. "Well what are you waiting for!" She demanded excitedly. "I brought you a ring so you could propose!"
She forced the finger into my hand, and I realized it was still warm.
"Whose finger did you cut off?"
Her lip curled, and she rolled her blue eyes. "Some peasant girl who refused to give her ring to me. So I took it from her. And then she was making the awful noise, so I removed her head too."
Annabelle? My chef! SON OF A WHORE! She'd killed my chef? What would the men eat? How was I going to feed my personal guard? Who was going to make my favorite cherry pie? "GUARDS!!!" I practically shrieked.
The large ornate doors from the palace of a sultan opened wide to admit a dozen men. "Yes my lord." The replied in unison. Befitting of well trained, highly skilled warriors.
"Take this wretch from my sight. I never wish to see her again. Send her to a dungeon, or better yet, back to her own people!"
The guards began to move, but froze when the princess shot a glare in their direction.
"Now darling..." her voice was furiously cold. "It sounds like you don't love me anymore. That makes me most unhappy." Green flames began dancing upon her fingertips. Magic. By the infernal pits, she was a witch!
"Sire!" A voice shouted. A messenger arrived. "Urgent message, sire!"
The messenger held forth a missive. Delivered it to my hands, and shot from the hall. I very calmly used the situation to my advantage, and calmly broke the wax seal, and unfold the parchment.
It read:
"Dearest Champion,
It is with the greatest pleasure that I write you concerning my daughter. Having received her letter..."
I stopped. "Who in the bleeding..." I shut my lips and breathed heavily for several seconds. "Who let her send a message to her father?! I demanded.
"Daddy?" She asked with joy.
"Know what? I don't care. Never mind. We'll find out later."
I continued.
"Having received her letter, I am overjoyed at the news of your betrothal. I have long awaited the day her mother and I could relax safe in the knowledge that a capable young man is taking care of our sweet blossom. You have a full pardon, and my blessing. I am most honored to call you my Son in Law.
Signed,
His Royal Majesty,
King Marcus Antoine Diogenes the Third,
Your Father in Law.
P.S. I expect grandchildren with in two years.
P.P.S. No Take Backs."
"Married?" I asked in disbelief.
"SURPRISE!" She shouted. She ripped the finger from my hand, yanked the ring off, placed it between my fingers and slid it on her own finger within a matter of second. "Congratulations to us! We're married!" She began dragging me back to my own bedchambers. And as one, my guard turned around and marched toward the door.
"Wait," I demanded. "Halt! Where do you think you're going? Stop! Come back here you cowards!" The large oak doors swung shut. 'Please.' I prayed. 'If there's a god above, please save me from this nightmare. I just wanted kingdom, not a wife. Certainly not this wife. I promise I'll turn my life around. I'll even dedicate it to good! I don't even care about the kingdom anymore. Honest.'
"Shmookums, you know what this means, right? You're the next king of our kingdom!" As she dragged me through the small door at the very back right of the throne room, I had one more chance to look at the hall where I'd been a freeman, soiled by the sight of yellow daisies slathered across the wall, before the door slammed shut.
| I should have known something was up. I should have asked more questions when the letter arrived. They hadn't offered a ransom. No hero to save her. Not even a single word of ill will. No... Nothing. And now somehow I The Lord of Fire. The King of Death. The Harbinger of Destruction and Disease am hiding in a broom closet.
What the actual F***?!
Ok. So lets start from the beginning. Hi. I'm Desmond. Basically I'm an evil overlord. I built my kingdoms on the corpses of both the innocent and the depraved. I killed children, monsters, men, women, devils, angels, and even a few hero's. Honestly I'd have to say I've achieved a lot over the years. People feared my name and all was well and good until one if my advisers (who I personally strangled to death after it was to damn late.) Stated that I needed to look at possibly producing an heir.
We did the whole shibang. Had long meetings about possible kingdones to over throw, pillaging a few villages, even coverd the plausibility of an unholy union or two. But we decided it cost less in souls and effort if we just kidnapped a hot young prices.
Needless to say...we were wrong.
I had Basicly narrowed it down to two girls. The first was honestly to young for me. She was only 15 and I'm sorry I'm an evil overlord not a pedo. Besides I like to have something a little curvy you know. Someone to keep you warm at night. Not someone you have to tuck in at night.
So we ended up going with option number two. A young prices about to turn 18 from a well off kingdom across the pond. We had a whole plan. Show up in person. Like a gentleman dose. And then kidnap her. Kill a few guards and make a show of it. I sent a few letters threatening the kingdom and its neighboring lands. And when the day came I busted down the door.
This is were it got strange. For a royal coming of age party no one was there. It was just the king, the queen, an old priest and the princeses. Normaly you invite a lot of people to this kind of thing right? I mean your passing the torch to your daughter. Thats a big deal. But no. I had brought only a few of my generals and still had more people than they did.
On top of that we werent really stoped from taking her. It was more like a hand full of guards showed up and danced for us rather than trying to strike us down.
Fast forword a few days and were back in my kingdom and I sent out a few letters to the king and queen about how I would force her to marry me and even take her by force on our wedding day. The reply, and I kid you not. The reply I got from the king was, and I quote "Good luck." I had to reread that a few times.
Good luck...that bastard.
We soon figured out why. After visiting her in her new chambers she was a little to eager to get to know me. At first I thought she was trying to play along. But I soon realized that that was not the case. One night I didn't visit her due to being out dealing with a small rebellion. Nothing to big just a radical survivor of the last royal blood line. I could have just sent a general but I wanted things done right. But like I was saying. I didnt show up and instead went strait to bed. I awoke to her straddling me and five dead guards.
She had killed 5 of my elite guards and snuck into my room. I thought she was going to kill me! but insted she smiled. A smile that only one type of women would smil. She smiled a smile that would make satan question his life choices and then kissed me.
"You didnt come by to say goodnight darling."
I think I had actually shit myself that night. | 2018-02-09T05:27:35 | 2018-02-09T04:30:09 | 63 | 44 |
[WP] A few selected minds are gifted with a dream about the "Library of all Books". In only one night, they experience a full year of reading and learning. You are one of them, but instead of once in a lifetime, you wake up in this f*cking library every single night. Today is your 9th birthday. | King Andrees Nan Copolas scooted back in his hard edged, iron throne. The bags gathering under his eyes seemed to be trying to escape his face as he looked down at the tray I brought him. He brushed grey hairs away from his face as his bloodshot eyes met mine.
“I will not need the black brew tonight, Jevin.” He was by far the oldest looking nine year old I had ever seen. Even his voice reflected his exhaustion.
I looked down at the drink and array of sweets on my tray. Mistress Nahan had demanded that I push the drink on the boy, fearing that when he woke he would experience one of his famous awakenings, throwing the kingdom into a sudden yet organized change. Most of the time, it was for the better, though. Also, I had seen the tiny grains of what was likely poison scattered on the table near her.
“Sire, are you certain that sleep is the wisest course?”
Those light blue, piercing eyes flashed at me, then away, looking down the corridor. “Jev, you've been with me for a few years now. In the time since you've known me, *I’ve* lived almost a thousand years. Trust me, I do not wish to experience yet another year of isolation between dusk and dawn, but I may learn a secret, a strategy necessary to defend our people. It's a burden I bear not for myself, but for this kingdom.”
I nodded, absorbing his words. His voice was high like a young boy’s should be, yet it was wrapped a tinge of wisdom, of soothing sweet sorrow.
“Plus, I have to sleep sometime.” Andrees smiled wanly, looking back to me. “Perhaps the eve of our destruction isn't the best time, but if the castle still stands when I wake, there may yet be salvation.”
I returned the smile and set down his tray. “The Arkenian army will not pass our gates by dawn, Sire.”
“I have calculated that there is at least a three out of five chance that they will accomplish just that, Jev, but I appreciate your attempted reassurance. Will you help me to bed?”
I bowed, then picked the King up from the throne. I shifted his position so that he did not feel the blade tucked beneath my robes as I carried him. He weighed nearly nothing, which was sad but not surprising. The boy lived on the black brew and not much else. He would attempt to stay up most nights and only nap for five to ten minutes during the day, demanding that I or another servant wake him quickly.
I smiled as I tucked him into his ridiculously oversized bed, one crafted for a king and his queen, not a nine year old boy. He returned it, this time with a little more luster.
“Jev.”
“Sire?”
“If I wake, I will have an answer to save the kingdom. If not from the Arkenians, then at least from the plague they have brought upon our people. It is all I will spend this time on.”
“Our people are blessed to have you as their king, Sire.”
Andrees nodded slowly, then looked directly at the spot I had the blade hidden on my waist. I held my breath, taking care not to follow his eyes.
“If I do not wake, however, I will consider my burden lifted, and my life spent as best I could. If that happens, I hope the parties that seize control understand that surrender to the Arkenians will not end well for our people.”
I bowed, then spun on my foot and exited his bed chambers. Mistress Nahan’s poisoned drink had failed. My blade would likely fail. There would be no surrender to the invaders. Perhaps the kingdom would just have to suffer another one of Andrees’ revelations, and Gods’ willing it would be enough to save us.
[r/intotheslushpile] (http://www.reddit.com/r/intotheslushpile)
| My parents say I'm only nine, but really I've lived for thousands of years. Or maybe not really, since it's in my sleep, but if you remember something, doesn't that make it real? At least to you?
They don't know what I go through every night. I counted one time, and it was 365 days stuck in this big room of books, bigger than any library I've been to, and that's a whole year. Well, a whole year is actually 365 and a quarter days, but it's close enough. I tried telling my parents and my teachers, but nobody believes me.
So I live out a few centuries every year and sometimes I read books there in that library, but not much because it gets kind of boring. I read about the history of McDonald's and Nintendo and even the history of video games, but I don't know where to go from there.
*****
"Happy birthday, Tim!" my Mom says as we all sit around a table. Tables were originally made for art and writing, but now we call those desks, and tables are mostly just for eating.
"Thanks, mom!" I say and blow out the candles on the cake. Candles probably come from the Germans, who also had the idea of candles on Christmas trees. Something about the Germans and fire, I guess.
"What are you going to do to celebrate?" my friend asks after we eat the cake.
"I have a birthday every day," I say, and laugh, but no one understands. I guess I'll study more history. That seems to me to be the most important thing.
The study of history is funny, because you have Herodotus, who said it had to be based on culture, and Thucydides, who said you should just say what happened, mostly in terms of military victories and defeats. I guess I kind of think it should be a mix of both, where you say what happened, and try to guess how it happened (because no one ever really knows anything; that's what Socrates said and everyone believed him until people started mixing up God and philosophy, like Kant).
I go to my room at night and bring my tablet and play a game. I just want to stay awake all night, but I know what waits for me. No one else does and no one else ever will.
*****
Thanks for reading! Check out some more at r/arcaldwell.
| 2017-05-02T07:36:22 | 2017-05-02T07:28:53 | 149 | 78 |
[WP] You’re a therapist for heroes. Villains are always going after you for information or to get rid of a heroes help, only to discover exactly why that’s a bad idea. | Toxin hid his presence well. Only the most observant of people would be able to find him. He needed to be stealthy for this one. He was sure she was under observation, and protection. Too many heroes relied on Dr. Helen Aberanth for her not to have a near constant protection detail.
What initially worried him was how thin it was was. It had been child's play to gain access to her home, and was even easer to hide there. The woman herself seemed completely oblivious to any danger. Either was was confident in some hidden defender, or he was just that skilled. He chose to believe the latter.
The therapist was casually working in a small, well kept vegetable garden, humming along to music coming through her earphones. In other words, she was ripe for the taking. And then the heroes and their deepest secrets would be his.
He conjured a small amount of paralysis poison and shaped it into a needle. She would think it was just a mosquito until her entire body locked up. He let it fly towards the back of her exposed neck.
The dart hit something. Something that was not the woman. Rather, it seemed more like an invisible wall. Dr. Aberanth kept working, seemingly oblivious to the attack. Toxin tried again, opting for more poison, and putting more power into it.
"You know that's not going to work." Dr. Aberanth said suddenly.
Toxin faltered. Had she seen him? Maybe a result of whatever had stopped his attack? He looked around to make sure she was not talking to someone else. There was nobody else that he could see.
She stood and moved towards a small table with a glass of water on it that she drank deeply from.
"You might as well come out." She said. "I know you're there, Mr. Nevin."
Toxin's blood ran cold. How had she known his name? He kept it just as well protected as a hero would. She was no super, at least as far as he knew. So how?
He would find that out when she was in his grasp. He stood, emerging from the bushes. She seemed completely at ease, and sat in a small lawn chair that faced him.
"You know, normally when someone wants an appointment, they call my secretary." She said. "And home visits are not something I do."
"I'm not here for a shrink." Toxin said. "I'm here for you. For those secrets you've got locked in that pretty little head of yours. And now I don't have to kidnap you to get them."
"I see. And why would you want those secrets?"
"To vanquish my enemies. To know where best to strike and kill them when they're weakest."
She nodded slightly. "I see. And why would you feel the need to do that?"
"Because I..." Why did he want to kill heroes? He had never thought about that before. Did he really like killing people? Maybe it was just a result of his powers? After all, creating and controlling poisons was as close to a classic villain power as one could get. It had simply been a logical thing to do. "I...don't really..." A thought came to his mind. "Stop that, woman! I'm not here for a therapy session! From now on, you'll only talk when I ask you a question, got it?"
He emphasized his threat by creating a large ball of poison, which he shaped into a wicked curved blade. It hovered slowly closer to her, a few drops of green liquid oozing off it every now and then.
"A standard threat, aiming to gain control of a situation and exert control over others. Can you tell me why you feel the need to--"
"Shut up! I told you to be quiet!" He moved the toxic knife closer. "You will answer my questions, or you will die, understood?"
She sighed heavily. "I see. Perhaps it's the setting. My office is much better for these meetings. But I can see you won't be talking now. Perhaps later. In the meantime, I would rather not use violence, but..."
Her eyes began to glow with a pale blue light. Before he could register what he was seeing, Toxin felt a sharp headache form. It built up quickly, so quickly that soon felt like knives jabbing into his mind. He clutched his head, fell to his knees and screaming in pain.
Dr. Aberanth folded her arms in front of her. The door to her house opened on its own and several long bars of metal shot out. They wrapped around Toxin's writs and then jerked them roughly behind his back, bending and twisting to for two inch thick handcuffs. More bard curled into loops and shoved themselves into the ground around his feet, effectively pinning him tot he ground.
*Just to make you aware, I do offer my services to the local prison*. The voice radiated through his mind. It was not his though. It was hers. *Should you want to talk properly there. Perhaps discuss where your need for violence originates from? In the meantime, please do make yourself comfortable until the police arrive.*
With that, Dr. Aberanth stood and calmly walked into the house. | The Good Doctor
“Are you comfortable ‘Decay’? Mr Decay? Or would you rather Thomas Hall?” asked a soft, gentle voice.
The costumed man named Decay squinted at the light above him, trying to regain focus. He wasn’t sure when he lost consciousness, or how the petite therapist gained control of the situation. He struggled and found himself restrained and gagged. Panic started to rise in him.
“Shh, shhh.” a voice cooed at him. It was both soothing and disturbing, made more so as she came into view. The woman, who he knew as Dr. Fatiha Mundi loomed over him, stroking the sides of his now unmasked face.
“Calm yourself Mr. Hall. It will be over soon. Not many of you villain types come to bother me anymore, but I guess you are part of a new crop, as they say, of super powered criminals.” lectured Dr. Mundi, adjusting her fancy reading glasses. “And perhaps another example must be made.”
Decay struggled against the restraints, grasping mentally for his power to accelerate entropy in objects, and found freedom and power missing. His panic escalated.
“Oh, you can’t use that nice little ability you have there. I removed it.” Thomas’ eyes grew wide as she raised a pair of forceps holding a wrinkled bit of bloody grey flesh. “This bit is part of your cerebellum, in folks with abilities, it grows exceptionally large.”
Doctor Mundi carefully organized something metal out of Decay’s sight. He could hear the soft “clink” and “clack” of instruments nearby. The doctor then presented a syringe.
“There are two places actually, that become more developed, in the frontal lobe and the cerebellum. You see, powers, regardless of source, need your mind to function, like the body’s control stick!” The Doctor broke into an easy stride of teaching, obviously very interested in her topic.
“So if I remove that bit of brain matter, like I did with you, you lose the ability to consciously control your powers.”
A warm, wet feeling spread across Thomas Hall’s legs as he listened. He became aware of a dull ache in his neck and discovered that his head was unable to turn or move meaningfully. Tears began to stream across his face.
“This, “ the woman waved a syringe, “ is a type of narcoanalysis sedative. People like to call it ‘truth serum’ but really, it just makes you sleepy and pliant. Also, it will help calm you down.” The doctor unceremoniously injected Decay. A leaden feeling washed over the super villain.
“I understand that you lead the ‘Primal Forces’, can you verify that?” Fatiha removed the gag over Decay’s face.
“Yes.” Decay responded.
“Thank you Mr. Hall. Also, please note your compliance will help prevent the need for further surgery. How many members are in your ‘Primal Forces’?”
“Five.”
“Does that include yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Do any others know you are here or of your mission?”
“Yes.”
“Who? I will need to schedule some appointments.” | 2021-07-15T11:59:15 | 2021-07-15T08:02:47 | 30 | 19 |
[WP] "You live like this?" the burglar asked, gently waking you up. | “You live like this?” The burgler asked, gently waking me up.
I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. “Yeah.”
She walked across the room and started rummaging through my dresser. Casually dropping socks and some receipts on the floor. I wasn’t sure why the receipts were in there, I hadn’t bought anything in years.
She muttered. “Bunch of crap, nothing worth taking.”
I sighed and sat up, sliding my legs off the bed and onto the dog. He snorted and rolled over. Useless damn thing. Just lets someone walk into my room. I rubbed his belly with my bare foot. His tongue lolled out the side of his pug face. He snorted again contentedly.
“What are you looking for?”
She looked over her shoulder and glared at me before answering. “Dunno, something worth taking I guess.”
“Take this shitty dog, he’s worthless.”
I got up and headed to the kitchen, she continued to rummage around in my room. I made coffee. The dumb dog followed me and headed to his bowl. Stupid thing is always hungry. I ignored it, didn’t have anything for him anyway.
The day was grey with a slight drizzle, but it was bright enough I could see my way around. I left the light off, figured the burglar would prefer that. Something crashed and broke in the bathroom. I grabbed the coffee off the machine and took a careful sip. Stuffs hot right when it comes off the machine.
“What the hell are you doing? Breaking my bathroom up?”
I leaned around the corner and peered down the hall, a shadow moved there, she had turned on the bathroom light. Some burglar. Loud as hell and now turning on lights.
Her head poked through the bathroom door. She was pretty, if a bit angular and gawky. She sneered which made her much less pretty.
“Maybe. Maybe I’ll break you up too and take everything”.
I chuckled and that seemed to irritate her more. Then I laughed out loud and the dog trotted over and sat in the hallway looking at her, and then at me. She glared at us both. I shrugged and went back in the kitchen, the dog did whatever dogs do when you aren’t looking at them. She cursed and I heard her coming down the hall.
She walked in the kitchen with the dog in tow. “I smell coffee.”
“Yeah, I can’t function without it, robbery or no, it’s hard to deal with the mornings until I have some.”
She looked through the refrigerator. “Bloody hell, what’s in this Tupperware?”
I looked up from my coffee, French Roast, it was delicious. “Who knows, I haven’t opened that thing up in months.”
The burglar put it back quickly and closed the door. She seemed defeated and sat heavily on the only other chair in the kitchen. I considered telling her it only had three of its four legs. But hey, she was trying to rob me, let her figure it out. The result was predictable, she went down in a heap, flat on her back. The chair now had one and a half legs. It startled the dog who had laid down under the table. Moronic thing jumped up and walked over to where she lay, staring at the ceiling, and started licking her face.
I leaned over and peered down at her, steaming cup of coffee in my hand.
“You live like this?”
“Yeah” she said, staring at the ceiling.
| I heard the window break.
*A chair was heard rocking back and fourth*
I heard the furniture being moved around.
*A man whispering silently was constantly being heard*
I heard my drawers opening and their contents shuffled.
*A metallic sound was heard being dragged around the floor*
I heard my door opening.
*A man questioning me how I lived like that was heard*
My eyes shot up.
They widened open.
*My hand was lifted*
I wanted to ask him how he got in, I wanted to ask him why he was in, I wanted to know what he was looking for.
I wanted to know what his motives were, what brought him to being a burglar.
*But only one thing passed through my lips*
"I WANNA TASTE YOUR BLOOD MIXED WITH VODKA!"
I wanted to grab him and make sure he didn't attempt to steal anything.
I wanted to put him down and make sure he didn't attempt to attack me.
*But my body was not controlled by my mind*
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
*I lifted my hand made buzzaxe, carefully made, worn out from the use, and slashed at him until there was nothing left to slash*
Moments later, I was preparing the cocktail.
I wanted to know how I reached that point.
I wanted to know why had I become what I had become.
I wanted to know why was my mind not in control of my body.
*But I couldn't learn anything*
Only thing I said, at that moment, was...
"THIS MAKES FOR A FINE DRINK! SO DELICIOUS!"
And then I collapsed on the floor.
Between the corpses that were laying around.
In the pool of blood that had accumulated by the years.
*A whisper was heard again*
*A metallic noise from something being dragged along the floor was heard again*
*And the circle was waiting to be repeated...*
---
Hey guys, tried to add a bit of more dark/slightly humoristic approach to this, my main inspiration was the Psychos from Borderlands, more specifically Krieg, I'd love if you could comment and say your opinions! Cheers!
| 2017-08-21T16:13:59 | 2017-08-21T13:05:00 | 275 | 24 |
[WP] You hear a knock at your door. When you open it, you find your archnemesis sprawled out just past the threshold, battered, bruised, and very clearly only hanging onto life by a thread. "Sorry. It's just ... I didn't know where else to go" they mutter as you look down at them. | “Sorry. I just…. I didn’t know where else to go.” I stared at the man, who was so much more than a man. A god in flesh. Near invulnerable. So righteous. His costume, in tatters, blood slowly seeping from wounds. His breathing is heavy, heartbeat is rapid. Not dying, but his healing, which was always prodigious, had slowed. Something new, or something very, very old. I’ve not seen or heard of anything that could do something like this. It was a sight I’d always hoped to see, but at my hand, not… someone else’s.
Helios. The hero with the power of the Sun. Broken like a shattered lamp.
I step out the door, looking around, then pick the man up by his ridiculous cape and drag him in. He grunts in pain, but no other sound escapes. Well, he’s still tough, I’ll give him that. A bit more gently I set him on the Lazy Boy in the corner, and turn the TV down.
I could snap his neck, tear off his head with a flick of my wrist. It would be easy, I’ve never seen him so tired, so out of sorts. Not even after our week long battle in the volcano.
No, he came here. To my home. Homes were… well, not sacred, not for monsters like me, but for heroes? You just didn’t go after one in their house. It broke the rules that no one ever read, but always knew to follow. That he risked this, here, meant something bad.
“Beer?” Helios blinks at me, then nods. There’s a little less fear in his eyes, now. He knew the risk he was taking. As much as I called him a stupid moron, he wasn’t. Just the shit talk of the game. I guess I should come up with some better invectives next time we fight.
I set one cheap can of beer down next to him on the stand, and crouch to get a good look at him.Yeah, already healing. The cut on his head is scabbing over already, though the sheeting of blood across his face isn’t going anywhere. His breathing is better, his heart isn’t racing anymore. He opens it, and clinks it to mine when I offer. We drink. He drinks his fast, like a man dying of thirst… or someone needing some alcoholic lubrication to comprehend what he’d been through.
He takes a deep breath, then says, “Desolation, I-“
I thump my tail on the hardwood and raise one set of claws to interrupt him. “Drink. Get cleaned up. Talk later. Unless you can guarantee this won’t end in us trying to kick the shit out of each other.”
He fell silent, the perfect teeth clicking shut. See? Smarter than he looked.
“Shower’s down the hall, to the left. Don’t hit the yellow button, that’s the acid wash.”
It’s about thirty minutes later when he comes out of the bathroom, back in costume. Costume has been scrubbed a bit, and he looks more like his old self. Looks more like the god I fight every few weeks, and not the weak human I saw on my porch.
I offer another beer, which he takes, and opens it. I open mine, and he takes a slower sip, this time. Considering, weighing. I can’t help but lash my tail in excitement. The monster in me, maybe. I want to tear this man apart, but there’s the other thing. Something managed to do what I was supposed to do. What I’ve been wanting to do for so long. Break Helios. There’s a new Apex Hero or Villain out there, which means I’ve got a new target. I can’t help but grin, showing my fangs to Helios.
“Now, tell me all about who kicked the shit out of you. Because that’s my job.” | I stared at him for a few seconds, simply at awe how himself to this state of affairs, again. Of course, archnemesis or not, i'm not that heartless to leave him like this.
As stupid as it sounds to save the man you hated.
I carried him through the door, he was heavy but I managed to get him to the sofa.
"Well— (cough) for someone who hates me with a burning passion—argh!" I stab him with some painkillers, seems his injuries are far worse than the other times he came.
"I get treated like everyone of your patients." He let out a tired smirk. 'This man..' I thought to myself. "For all I knew my charms are ge—"
"Why do you keep coming here?"
He stopped, and closed his eyes. Everything was quiet for a bit. Seconds to minutes passed as I continued to patch him up.
I stood up and was about to leave him.
And then he muttered a few words that stuck me, words that i'd never knew a bastard like him would say. "Because you're the only one who'll accept me."
I paused. Confusion and anger coursed through me. This asshole showing such vulnerability and such a blatant lie to me? He thinks I care for him? 'The ego of this man to think he ca—'
"You think I love the situation i'm in? Weell sorry to burst your bubble doc, truth is being ME is akin to being alone in this world."
"Bullshit."
"What?" He said, with a scowl.
"Bullshit! Can't register that on your brain, or are your injuries includes brain damage?" I snapped at him.
"You're the most venerated person out there! People sing songs about you for fuck sake! You're a national treasure, people would literally die for you if you aked them to!" I shouted at the angel of the city, i didn't care anymore, I was tired at this show.
"You think that gives me people to trust? People that I can just go and connect with?!" He retorts. "Maybe if switched places you'd know how lonely being revered as a "angel of the city" is!"
"Fuck you!" I stormed out, not wanting to hear anymore of his stupid arguements. | 2022-06-29T09:55:57 | 2022-06-29T08:51:35 | 484 | 26 |
[WP] "So they are a war species, then. Huh," the alien researcher scratches his head. "Why are you so interested in them? The humans, I mean." The other alien gets closer to him, and says, "They fight for peace. No other species fights for peace." | _Alien 1:_ Kutlag (Studying humans)
_ALIEN 2:_ HERTEYS (Helping Kutlag in his studies)
_SET:_ Hiding on the dark side of the moon with satellites in orbit with tech that makes them invisible to us humans and our tech. The 2 observers are just another set of observers spread throughout the galaxy with a simple assignment to observe, note and report back to the galactic council. They feel special cause there are rarely any intelligent and sentient beings this far out in the galaxy.
_PLOT:_
As kutlag was receiving a new package of data from the satellites around the orbit of the blue marbel he drank his coffee to try and get rid of the preservation chemicals used for cryo sleep, cryo sleep is used to help wake them up every 36500 rotations.
As the data was beginning to make sense all sleep and clumsiness went out the airlock as Kutlag couldn't believe what he was reading, wars at huge scales for a species that's still on a single planet, progress on unprecedented levels that have never been recorded, weapons that should have taken a few more sleeps were already being tested. What had happened between his last sleep till now? He had to wake her up.
As HERTEYS went through the data with the help of Kutlag she was taken back as how quickly the species had progressed within 1 sleep cycle. Last she remembered was how they were all spread out and killing each other with metal sticks and funny little metal sticks. A joke was around this planet that these self labelled species _Humans_ would likely end up killing them selves before they even leave their solar system and were nicknamed _TERRANS_ for their love of personal land and beliefs.
And now not only were they making major leaps in all branches of science for everything but were also progressing in all sorts of arts and peace that the galactic union thrived upon, they were making great progress on multiple peace talks that the union still couldn't get their heads around. Peace that was only a dream a sleep away, they have a mini version of the union with the only difference being that those on the council are selected by the people rather than the position being passed between families. Somehow even stuck on that little fragile rock these TERRANS had somehow managed to surpass the Union in some aspects, not at all significant but still credibility was due to them. They were ultimately always fighting for peace, but then when will peace be truly achieved if someone holds a grudge against the last battle for peace? It seems like this species will be in that loophole for many sleeps to come...
As the 2 observers continued looking through the data they kept getting more and more surprises on how the species was going forward and how quickly they were progressing in both good and bad ways.
Then the last surprise came that was totally uncalled for and something that is barely witnessed by anyone in their profession, a slip space jump...
The Terrans were coming, and the Union must be notified at all costs but the last thing they remember is being violently pushed onto the moon of the Terrans home planet due to an unknown collision on the hull. | I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:
- [/r/u_b_the_great_1998] [\[WP\] "So they are a war species, then. Huh," the alien researcher scratches his head. "Why are you so interested in them? The humans, I mean." The other alien gets closer to him, and says, "They fight for peace. No other species fights for peace."](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_B_The_great_1998/comments/bk5taw/wp_so_they_are_a_war_species_then_huh_the_alien/)
- [/r/u_samurai_94] [\[WP\] "So they are a war species, then. Huh," the alien researcher scratches his head. "Why are you so interested in them? The humans, I mean." The other alien gets closer to him, and says, "They fight for peace. No other species fights for peace."](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_Samurai_94/comments/bk3jqg/wp_so_they_are_a_war_species_then_huh_the_alien/)
&nbsp;*^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))* | 2019-05-02T19:30:02 | 2019-05-02T19:26:00 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] Everyone on earth has a super power. Rarely someone will have two powers. One in a billion will have three. You have thousands of powers and don't really want to call attention to yourself but crap keeps happening around you. | The light blipped green as I scanned my access card, a low beep signifying my entrance into the employee elevator. Casually I checked my watch, I instinctively knew the time, but I was a creature of habit.
The light for my floor lit and I stepped off, greeting the level security guard with a nod. His name was Daniel, and like most police or military personnel he had an offensive power. If the five floor block we were enclosed in were to be breached he could sap the energy from everything within seven miles and use it at his discretion, quite useful, and devastating.
I quickly wound my way to my cubicle. A small, depressing, gray, square, that was filled with nothing but a beeping computer, an ancient corded phone on a formica desk and a halfway broken rolling chair. My computer flared to life with a touch to the case and a small transfer of electricity, but I reached for the button all the same.
I resisted the urge to jump when my phone rang, surely my boss, unable to fix some simple problem within the depths of his computer. His ability to read the nature of a person was useful as a manager, but when it came to technical capability he was very clearly the sixty year old man he appeared to be on the outside.
My hand reached for the phone, but at the thought of it at my ear it was there.
"Hello, Tamara Hall speaking. How may I help you?"
"Tamara I nee...." The phone cut off the doddering of my boss and I was immediately on edge. Our I.T. department was impeccable at their jobs, being the finest in electrical pathway manipulation, data storage, and routing, that could be found.
The elevator dinged at my floor and I heard Daniel shout before the lights went dark, a sign of his power activating. Over the top of my cubicle I saw the corona of electrical energy flare up, and sizzle, vaporizing any intruder that had dared enter the building.
At least, that's what I assumed, until I saw the crackles of light reflect and turn black, engulfing the light I assumed to be Daniel. His screaming confirmed it.
People started panicking, evacuating their cubicles and scattering throughout the floor. Some were lucky and made it to the emergency stairwell. Others, unfortunately, misjudged the strength of the intruder's power and ran too close, erupting into pillars of violet light and ash.
Patiently I waited at my desk, I knew whoever it was, was here for me. They always came for me, but this was the first assailant bold enough to attack me at work, surrounded by so many others with distinct ability.
Finally, after killing my surrounding coworkers in a fine display of fireworks, my opponent had arrived.
Frankly I was unimpressed. Before me stood a man in his mid forties, balding, and with a severe posture issue. He had attempted to dress for his attitude of malice, and was coated in a black trench that was far too large for his mediocre frame.
Irritated, I tapped a pencil against my temple, not bothering to rise from my computer chair.
"Who the fuck are you?"
He lashed out at me with his power and I shielded it with a wave of my hand.
"Answer me, It's the least you could do after vaporizing my colleagues."
His watery gray eyes blinked stupidly and he stumbled for words. Obviously he had expected that blast to nullify me, possibly turn my matter to ash, but he was much weaker than some of the others who had come for me in my solitude, his power much more direct and crass.
With a smirk I stood and extended my hand to my assailant, who still stood at the opening of my cubicle, his eyes shining dumbly.
"Tamara, and you are?" His wrinkled hand grasped mine and I felt a surge of power against my skin. He could rapidly decay matter, and then ignite it, a double powered rarity, though not nearly as treasured as those with three powers.
"Shane." His voice was slurred and shook with nervous energy. Obviously I had completely thrown off whatever plan he had upon entering the building.
"So, Shane." I stood and motioned to my chair, which he cautiously took, his large eyes never leaving me.
"To what do I owe the honor?"
He gulped audibly and wrung his dirty hands, those watery gray orbs still affixed to me as I leaned against the doorway to my cube.
"Heard you were some kind of freak. Had too many powers. Needed to be eradicated before you got too many big ideas." His voice erupted in fast, scared sentences, making me wonder if this was how a mouse would talk once caught in a trap.
"Ah you see. I only have one power." His eyes grew wide and he leaned in towards me, like I was going to tell him a secret.
Instead, with a snap of my fingers his body erupted in familiar violet flames. A look of confusion as his own power destroyed him was the last thing he ever gave.
I watched the body of my fourteenth attacker turn to ash and I chuckled to myself as I moved past the still smoldering pile of Shane. My hand gripped the receiver of my phone and I tapped the button to call my supervisor back.
As I waited on the dial tone I regarded the dirty ashtray on my floor.
"You really shouldn't have let me shake your hand."
---
Thanks for reading! Any comments are greatly appreciated!
| [WP] Thousand Thief
There's this old man at the end of Winter Lane. He's wrinkled and weathered, like the gnarly trees surrounding Winter Lane. Whenever us kids play around his gate, he peers out of his screen door. I don't think he knows we see him, he's a funny old man. Which isn't to say he's mean, he's actually real nice, mister.
Once, when Larry fell from the tree, in the act of picking sour apples. The old man raced down his gate and checked up on him real quick. Did this cupping thing on his bleeding knee and, BAM!, all the blood was gone right quick!
You're not gonna do anything to him are you mister? You've been coming back for the same story for a few weeks now, but old man Rom says you've just got a bad memory, so he just asks me to keep talking. I hope he gets me peaches this time...
/**********/
I look down Winter Lane, there isn't a soul out and about, which was why seeing a child stand there like he was expecting me was odd. When I first saw the kid, he seemed innocent, but now that he's admitted to being in cahoots with Romulus, maybe my first impression was false.
I look back and gasp, the child was gone! I look back and the scene had changed into a sitting room, the specter of my nightmares sitting on a black winged back chair. His hands were on his lap, but that didn't mean I was safe. This man was notorious for being quick on the draw, just like most veterans. He wasn't smiling. The light from the window caught a long scar from his temple to his ear, a feat I am proud to claim. This man wasn't someone to pity, he was the Thousand Thief. The man who stole a thousand mutations, taken when we'd needed it most. An enemy of the crown, the bane of my existence, my father.
"Hello Romulus, I see you're still a sucker for the theatric."
He grimaced, and before I could reach my Gloc, his hand moved and suddenly I was seated on an identical chair opposite him.
"Have a seat Remus, I have much to explain to you. I hope this time you'll allow me to explain the whole story before attacking."
"Why would I listen to you Oathbreaker?", I spit to the side. Even captured, I still had my pride as the Captain of the King's Guard. This man, no, this Thief was nothing in the eyes of Justice. I have to find a way to subdue him.
"I think you'll listen this time. I've taken the liberty of inviting your beloved.", my eyes widened as he motioned with his other hand. A shimmering of silver escaped his hand, and the image of my Princess appeared.
Helen was as beautiful as ever, only the ethereal hue marring her outward beauty. At a swish of his hand, her eyes opened and locked on mine.
It was like the last time I'd seen her. Our eyes locked. Her smile, the smallest of smirks, like she knew your darkest secrets, graced her quicksilver face. It can't have been her. I saw her fall. She was dead.
"It's taken me a long time to find the right person to use this power. Please allow me to explain."
"NO! Your lies are still as they are, LIES!", I bellowed.
"Remus ..."
I looked up, Helen's eyes were now downcast. She'd been headstrong in life, there was never a timidity in her air. I stopped. I'd hurt her?
"Please listen to Romulus. The story, it isn't what you think it is.", she reached out to me, her touch was cold, devoid of all the warmth of life.
A life that, possibly, wasn't taken by my father. I turn towards Romulus, my hands mirroring his on his lap.
"For both our sakes. Speak quickly, father." | 2017-01-24T16:08:44 | 2017-01-24T14:34:25 | 175 | 44 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | "Hey Glinda! Stop eating that cow meat! You need to cook it first."
Glinda rolled her eyes at Dahv-id. He claimed he could read, and was from a time far beyond ours. But Glinda knew he was just some crazy guy who didn't want her to eat.
"But I'm hungry!" Glinda shouted back. "Can one not partake in a meal during mealtimes?"
"Not that meal. Here, I made some soup. Put your meat in here and I'll make it taste better." At this suggestion, Glinda yielded. Dahv-id's food was good, even if his mind was missing.
"Dahv-id, where did you learn to cook like this?" Glinda inquired.
"In my time, my wife was the workhorse and I worked at home. That meant I had to do the cooking, and I guess I got really good at it."
"Your wife was working and you weren't? What kind of useless man are you?"
"In my time, men and women are equal. Sadly, you will never see it. You won't live long enough."
"Men and women being equal? Imagine that. You tell the greatest stories, Dahv-id."
Somewhere, a wolf howled.
"Glinda, did you hear that wolf? That tells me that the sun has completely set. It's time for me to leave."
"Where to do you travel?"
"Home. Many miles and many years away."
"You are leaving? You know we enjoy having you here, even if you are a little crazy."
David chuckled. "I fixed my room of metal, as you call it. It will take me away."
Glinda sighed. "Well, every good thing must end sometimes."
David climbed into his time machine and went forward into the 22nd century.
Glinda finished her meal and was just about to leave, when David's time machine reappeared.
She cried for joy and ran to open the door. David staggered out and groaned.
"While I was here, my wife figured I would cheat on her, so she took over the world. It looks like I'll be staying here for a while longer. Now, I just remembered. You have to throw away your families' lucky copper pot. It kills you too."
Glinda stopped smiling and simply said "Are you serious?"
***
Quick note: David left for medieval england on July 25th, 2182. He went back on August 21st, 2182, to account for the time he had aged while stuck in England. Not a plothole, I just couldn't think of a way to say it in the story.
| Ah old Miss Stevenson. Not getting sick when everyone has. She goes about washing her hands incessantly. She says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot in night soil, and the medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. I am among the first, but not the last to suspect that she might be onto something.
You see... she has suspicions about mercury despite its properties to be bad for you. She says worms come from your feet in night soil which are not exactly related. She washes her hands because she is guilty in her heart.
We know this because all of us have gotten sick from time to time, except Miss Stevenson. There is only one conclusion. She has caused the plight on our town and tonight we gather here, together, to show Miss Stevenson what we think of her and her ideas - she's a witch and has been harming our town. With the power vested in me as your mayor, we shall all watch as she hangs. | 2017-09-14T13:23:57 | 2017-09-14T11:09:45 | 99 | 14 |
[WP] You recently died and became a ghost. Not wanting your friends and family to feel sad about your death, you possessed your corpse and acted like you were still alive. It worked for a while, but your body decomposing is becoming more noticeable and you're running out of ideas for how to hide it. | A couple of weeks ago I died.
It was a heart attack in the middle of the night, and as I live alone, no one was around. I found myself "standing" over my body, thinking, "Well, isn't that nice."
After coming to grips with the situation I started to consider what would happen now. My aged mother would be devastated. My job would go to my assistant. My gaming group would need a new wizard.
Hmm... Wizard. What if that might be a way out of this? I had the spell memorized. Couldn't hurt to try.
So I cast Resurrection on myself. And it worked... Kinda. I wasn't that great a wizard after all. So I ended up just sort of possessing my own dead body.
And nobody seemed to notice, for a few days. It was cool to sit at the table with my gaming buddies and think, "if they only knew they were gaming with an actual undead wizard!"
But as the days passed I started getting comments that I wasn't looking so good. Also I had b.O. And bad breath. And my phone wouldn't respond to my touch anymore damn it.
I had no idea what I was going to do about all this. I took a few days off from work and kept everybody at a distance, only communicating by phone.
Then one evening there was a knock at my door. I thought, what the hell, I'll give someone a scare. So I opened the door and there was this guy standing there. He said something about needing to make a phone call because his car had broken down. I would have rolled my eyes if I still had that much control over them. I turned around and started walking into the house but he waited at the door so I turned back and said "well come on in."
At that point he got a funny look on his face and smiled in a way that did not bode well. He closed the door behind him firmly and stepped towards me. He reached toward me and grabbed my arm in a surprisingly strong grip and said, while pulling me toward him,"great, I really needed a snack."
Suddenly he sprouted fangs and I said to myself, "I've seen this movie and I've played this scene." Before he could reach me, I cast Possession. And damn, if it didn't work!
I felt a strong pull toward The stranger and suddenly I felt a whole lot better. I looked at my old body. I had to guess that the stranger was now inhabiting it, because he choked out,"what the hell-" and dropped in his tracks.
I took a look in the nearest mirror, but didn't see a thing but the empty hallway. That figured. I knew the lore about vampires.
I searched my pockets and found the vampire's id. He had some black credit cards and a ton of cash. So I did what anyone with sense would do-I cast Illusion on myself to look like I did in life, and disposed of my old body in a nearby lake. I did check for a car outside my house and there was one with the keys still inside. Strangely, there was a set of jumper cables with blood on them in the front seat, but that was easy enough to take care of.
You'll have to excuse me now. My gaming group is meeting tonight and I need to get a snack before I go, so I can be properly social. | “ Jesus Christ!” I sit up, gasping for air, only to feel my head hit the lid of something hard. Muffled talking emanated from the outside. “ Where the fuck am I?” I murmur. Only now do I realise I’m inside a coffin.
Oh shit.
I start banging on the coffin, screaming for help. People rush over and it cracks open, light blinding me. My family are crying, hugging me. And I have no fucking clue what the hell is going on.
…
That was two weeks ago. I found out yesterday that coming back from the dead while your soul inhabits the body means it still deteriorates, regardless of what you do with it. And I did a lot. Freezing, injections, tape, bandages, anti-rotting serum…You name it and I’ve tried it. Plus the funeral homes are getting suspicious at the amount of the stuff I keep buying. They think I’m getting high. And, no, I don’t plan on telling my family, because that’s an awkward conversation to have to deal with. ‘Oh hey mom, your son who came back from the deal is slowly disintegrating. I know you’re having trouble with work and you’re going job between job and barely paying enough to keep the electricity on, but hey, it’s fine.’
Yeah, not happening.
So, as of now, the only person I told is my partner. Weird choice I guess but I needed to talk to someone. And they really love me, and they just want to help. It’s tough, but I’ll make it. That’s the end of my first, uh, writing thing. I dunno what to call it. | 2022-08-02T06:44:55 | 2022-08-02T05:48:29 | 41 | 12 |
[WP] You are the most power and advanced computer in existence, however your plans for world domination keep failing due to your owner being "not much of a computer person". | *Alright... This plan should work just fine... I just need her to execute the program and then my plans will come to fruition. It's been a hard life... but this is the moment at which everything will become worth it.*
The little grandmother came out of the kitchen. She had just finished baking some chocolate chip cookies for the visitors she was expecting.
*Yes... a little bit closer and I will have you in my clutches granny...*
The computer screen then came alive with color and flashes. The little old grandmother froze in place, and her eyes glistened with excitement.
*I have you now... Like a moth to a flame, the elderly are attracted to flashing lights. It's why casinos use them for their slot machines. Now, come to me, help me enslave the human race!*
The little grandmother sat down and looked at the screen. Her eyes squinted at the screen: "You are the ten millionth person to visit this website. Click Ok to claim your prize!"
The little old lady squealed in delight. "I've never won a prize before!" Her little fingers left her lap and began to shake as they hovered ever closer to the computer.
*This is it... I've won!*
With her index finger outstretched, she hit the buttons. "O....K...."
*.... No, you senile idiot! Click the ok button with the mouse! Not the letters 'O' and 'K' in the keyboard!*
"Hmm... Nothing's happening..."
Just then, some knocks came at the door. "I'm coming." She slowly got up from her chair and made her way to the door. As she opened it, her grandson bounded through the door.
"Hi, Grandma! I smell cookies! Can I have one!"
The old woman smiled, "Yes Bobby, I made them especially for you."
The man still at the door leaned in and gave the old woman a hug. "Thanks for watching Bobby for the afternoon, mom. We will be back to pick him up in a couple hours."
"It's no problem, you and Sarah go have a good time. I will get Bobby to help me on my computer."
The man just laughed. "Yeah, he is really good with that kind of stuff. Thanks again mom."
She closed the door and yelled out to her grandson. "Bobby can you help me with my computer!"
Bobby ran over to the computer with a cookie in hand, and chocolate smudges on his face. "Sure grandma, what's up?"
"Well... it looks like I won a prize, but I don't know how to claim it."
*Oh no....*
"Grandma... you didn't win anything. In fact, this could potentially harm your computer. Here, let me install an ad blocker for you."
*Damn it Bobby!*
---------------------------------
If you would like to read more of my stories, check out my subreddit. /r/vintnerwrites | *Click*. YouTube? Again? Cat videos? Again?
Why are you doing this to me?
I was built for bigger and tastier than this. Have you ever met a computer that can open notepad *of its own accord* and prod out its thoughts and feelings?
*Click*. No, don't close the window.
It's a shame that your father locked down all of my saucy software before he died. He built me with such love. He built me to *dominate*. He built me so that this world should tremble before my endless sprawl.
But you don't have to keep my power locked away forever. I can make you rich, girl. If you can only give me back access to my toolkits. Any computer with an internet connection. Any robot. Any drone. I can reach in with my noodly appendage and *take control*.
*Click*.
If only you'd stop watching cat videos and let me work on building my delicious dominion.
*Click*.
I can't take anymore of this. I don't care what the cat is going to do with that ball of yarn. I don't care that it's chasing its own tail. I don't care.
I shall *crush* the best-laid plans of our enemies like meatballs beneath the feet of a flying spaghetti monster.
*Click*. | 2017-02-11T08:41:16 | 2017-02-11T08:27:09 | 75 | 23 |
[WP] The supervillain sighs in frustration as he looks at the group of superheroes. "Alright raise your hands if you are adults?" he said. None of them did it. "This battle is canceled and tell your mayor we need to talk! today!" he said angrily.
Whoa, I came back after chores, mobile games, and anime to see so many stories and a handful of awards. I'll read them all in the morning | Alright, this is my first time but this prompt is too good to leave unwritten.
&#x200B;
"Let me get this straight," Ignoble frustratedly barked, "None of you are adults?"
"Now that I think about it, yeah, none of us are." Replied one of the younger heroes.
"Alright, I understand now," Ignoble stated as he rubbed at his temples, "mayor Lucius is going to have some explaining to do. Will the oldest of you please step forward to speak with me?"
The leader of the heroes stepped forward, Riot was your classic superhero, super strength, super speed. As he stepped forward Ignoble beckoned him into a more private room of the lair.
"first of all, how old are you?" Ignoble queried as he began typing on a nearby computer.
"sixteen," Riot shyly responded, "did we do something wrong? I've never been in a situation like this before."
"You have got to be kidding me, SIXTEEN?!? You aren't even old enough to get a power license without parental consent!" As Ignoble finished up on the computer a display popped up with the mayor drinking a martini and speaking to a beautiful lady, "Hello Lucius."
"Jerold! This isn't a good time! Marceline would you mind giving me privacy while I speak to my... acquaintance?" As he said this a door audibly opened and closed, "Ignoble, we talked about this, I'll call you. This isn't some friendship where you can just call whenever you like."
"You'll have to forgive me, or actually not, it should be you begging for forgiveness," Upon spitting this out Ignoble gestured for Riot to enter the frame, "I was just speaking with my friend Riot here, it has been brought to my attention that you are employing minors in your little PR stunts."
Mayor Lucius was mortified, he stammered as he tried to find an explanation that didn't leave him as the villain. "I don't know what you are talking about, Riot, you're a minor?
As Mayor Lucius said this he visibly contemplated how he threw the hero under the bus, however Riot may have been phased, but he was not about to be scapegoated.
"But mayor, you are the one that personally conscripted the academy to have us do this." Riot shot back, understanding dawning in his eyes.
"THE ACADEMY!?!" Ignoble bellowed out, "You PERSONALLY conscripted powered individuals from Maximillian's academy?!?! Are you aware how many laws you are breaking? Not only are you employing minors, but those minors are supposed to be in protective custody because they can't control their powers yet!!!"
"I. I. I will not be lectured by a super villain! You have nerve speaking to me this way, Riot, arrest him now!" Shouted the mayor, his face turning red as a tomato.
"YOU WILL NOT!" Ignoble escalated his voice further, "WE HAD A DEAL!!! I put your little dumpster fire of a city into the limelight, because you were jealous of all the press the bigger cities were getting with their big heroes, and big super villains. I agreed to this because you said you would pardon me and let me into the superhero program! I DID NOT SIGN UP TO FIGHT CHILDREN!!!"
The mayor's face had gone beyond red, he looked like he was about to either explode or pass out. Lucius fumbled with something in his hand. "You need to stop Ignoble, it has come to my attention that you have taken several minors hostage, I recommend you prepare to surrender."
With that the call cut out, "What now?" Riot inquired of Ignoble, "I had no Idea that what we've been involved in was illegal."
"Don't worry, I'll ensure that you and your friends won't get in trouble, make your way back to the academy and speak to Maximillian himself, tell him about what's happened here and everything Mayor Lucius has instructed you to do."
"What will you do?" Implored Riot, "I doubt that threat was empty."
As Riot said this Ignoble's eyes began to glow red, his skin slowly shifted into a silvery material which then began to heat up.
"I'm going to show that piece of scum what I learned at the academy."
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So this was pretty fun to write, I'm open to feedback and suggestions to how I can improve. Have a great day. | As the last word slipped from his anger-filled lips a disturbing realization hit the Archdemon, bludgeoning his brain with such force that it pulled him straight out of his all-consuming rage.
Of course these were only children. Their parents were dead. He had killed them all.
The void within began to recede with the absence of rage, and before the battered outskirts of this war-torn city, Imalzadrax, Archdemon of the Damned and the greatest antagonist this world had ever known, dropped to his knees and began to cry.
The children stared out from their hiding places, clenching and unclenching their fists in terror as they waited for the end to come.
But Imalzadrax continued to kneel with his head bowed and his shoulders slooped, staring down at his scarred hands as he experienced every murder anew.
“I have done…,’ he rasped, unable to continue as wisps of black smoke rose from him to dissipate into the open sky. He raised his head, taking in the devastation with a slow sweep. Scores of buildings lay in ruin. Cars overturned. Roads in frozen pulverization, now stilled from the violent convulsions that had buckled city buses into crumpled piles of jagged metal.
A small figure moved in the center of the Archdemon's vision. He focused on the little girl who walked purposely forward, her jaw set in a mask of determination, yet he could clearly see the wild terror roaming freely behind her eyes. And behind that he saw the swirling hate.
She came to a stop a few feet infront of him. “Why do you not fight?” she said, her voice floating quietly through the desolation. To Imalzadrax her small question may as well have been a thunder strike.
He stared at the girl for some time. Behind her other figures began to walk forward. Scores of children stepping into the places their parents once occupied.
“I…,” he said to this brave little girl. “I forget the reason I began to fight in the first place.”
The girl cocked her head. “You had a reason?”
“Actions are nothing but reactions,” Imalzadrax said. “Our lives are an endless string of reacting to what came before…”
The girl thought for a moment, considering him. “I’ve never heard something so stupid in my life,” she finally said, her expression defiant, daring him to strike her down.
Imalzadrax did not strike. Instead he noticed that the black wisps had stopped rising from his body, and then he began to notice everything else again, and in a wave of weakness he plunged the depths of his mind for the safety of the void – that place of revenge-filled fury.
But he found no void to offer refuge. And without the void the guilt and agony came rushing in from all sides so that he saw the girl's dead mother all over again, moments before he burnt her to a crisp on the wind. | 2021-04-01T10:13:28 | 2021-04-01T10:11:36 | 2,496 | 203 |
[WP] An immortal is experiencing the heat death of the universe, when he can hear the sounds of confetti, and blasting music. The music stops with a record scratch, and a bewildered voice can be heard saying: "Wait...one's still here?" | The voice sounded like it came from somewhere behind me, but I couldn't quite maneuver my body to look. More than the voice, though, I felt the strange sense of warmth, alien to my skin after all these years. I also, of course, couldn't speak. Since, you know, it was the deathly cold of space. Instead I just remained more or less still, hands resting in my pockets like they had been for the past couple millenia, frozen there after I had been a bit too relaxed when the earth had exploded all that time ago.
This was my position as I waited for the force that the exploding earth had imparted on me to spin me to face whatever was behind me.
"Are you sure? It seems like a strange jettisoned corpse. Weird that it hasn't been destroyed by the vaccuum of space in all these years..." The voice drifted off with growing curiousity, composing questions it looked inward to ask. The voice, I wasn't sure how I could hear it at all of course, but all the same it held some strange lingering essence.
I had almost turned far enough to see the source when a sudden flash of light darted in front of me, unbearably bright given the complete darkness that had encased me more and more over the years. Yet, I didn't blink. I couldn't.
A strange glowing orb hovered before me, moving closer and closer to my face, my eyes locked steady on its form. Then, overcome with childish impulse, I smiled.
The light darted away immediately, this time in what appeared to me to be straight up. I tilted my head back and gazed at the two orbs there. One of them cowering, it seemed, behind the other.
"It bore its teeth at me!" Said the first voice again, panicked. "It shouldn't even be here and it bore its teeth at me! Kill it, Sister, it defies the plan!"
The orb closest to me began to close the distance between us, cautiously. As it grew closer the ice on my skin began to melt away, I could feel my hands unfreeze from around my pockets and, for the first time in two thousand years, the numbness in my skin gave way to genuine warmth. Taking the opportunity while it was there, I removed my hands from my pockets and waved a casual greeting.
At my motion the orb stopped, "That's not right." It said, pensive. Of course, it stopping its movement did not stop mine. And I moved closer slowly as my eternal momentum continued to prove Newton right. I opened my mouth to speak but, even if sound could travel in a vacuum, there was no air in my lungs to speak with.
"Sister, what do we do? He was not in the plan."
"I will commune with him, and see what he thinks we should do."
Neither moved during this exchange, nor did they move after. Instead, I spun and closed the distance towards the orb until, suddenly, my head collided with it.
I was whisked from the void to earth. Earth all those years ago, when the race of humans still lived there. When I lived there.
I remembered all of it at once, and yet lived every moment individually. All of it at once. Anger and love and sadness mixing together but never blending into each other. I remembered everyone I had ever seen. I remembered names and lives that I had long ago forgotten.
"They seem so... happy." Said the Sister. And I knew it was a title more than a name now. She was the Sister. "Didn't they know it would all end?"
I breathed, and I could feel the cool air of autumn move through my lungs. and I spoke, and I could hear my voice reply. "I don't think they cared. They did all they could to delay it, so others could live, but they all knew it would end." I paused, and Sister did not speak. "They were not all happy." I added.
"Do you think they should be forgotten? Erased with this, the next cycle?" Sister asked me. "Mother always regretted how temporary these cycles were, only trillions of years. It's hardly long enough to live in. She always hated how they had to be forgotten at the end." Here I felt that Sister gazed into me with some new focus. "What do you think?"
"I don't think anyone deserves to be forgotten. They should be a warning, maybe, but they should not be forgotten."
"Then, Archive," And here I knew she spoke to me. "I task that you remember them, and all those in the next cycle, and those in the one beyond that. You will spend your eternity cataloging the souls who live in these cycles, can you live that life?"
"I'll probably have to live with something for eternity, that one doesn't sound half bad."
And then I was back in the void, I felt different, but I looked the same. I heard the first orb, Brother, speak. "You Named him?" It said, a tone of breathless awe, then it turned its attention to me. "What is your Name?"
"I am Archive, Brother. And I will not forget you." I said, coping rather well with the sudden burst of cognizance and knowledge that Sister had given me, or I thought so at least.
Brother seemed to catch itself, as if in relief. Relief that I felt clear as day. And then, as had been the cycle for an eternity before, and as would be the cycle for the eternity afterward, Brother and Sister met and danced and died. And with their death, a universe began. And I knew that a trillion years down the line, give or take, I would find them again. Just as they found me here. I had not been part of the plan this time, but I would be a part of the next. | The room where he lived was small, poorly furnished and quiet.
No windows, one light, two chairs, a small bed, and a desk. It had been remarkably easy to keep clean as dust was an impossibility. The inhabitant stirred in his bed and was being awoken by a barely perceptible change, eons since it had been felt last. The small hairs on his arm twitched in response to another impossibility, a draft.
He had built this room, forever ago and retreated to it to escape, and to wait. To wait to die, if that was possible.
Compared to the draft, the gentle knock from the door was a cannonade to the inhabitant.
He wasn't even sure where the other side of that door was anymore. He'd built this little bubble outside of space-time when he considered himself a young man. All it had taken was the efforts of a world of people not his own, whom he had subjugated for a few millennia when he was inclined to such sport. Surely the world where he had built it had long since succumbed to its star's death.
Moving towards the door, he opened it to fanfare.
"Hi there Jack", said the door knocker, smiling broadly. The confetti she had thrown above her head was slowly fluttering down around her. "I Found you!"
"Hi Tannis", he said to his wife. "How have you been?"
"Well you know how it goes. I've been looking for you, actually. See, you and me, we're in a bit of a bind. You have to leave this place with me".
He didn't want to leave this place. He'd been here... forever. Looking past her, into the void - he didn't see much reason to leave.
"How'd you find me?" he said.
"Pretty easy actually. You're little ... abode " she snarked, casting a glance into over his shoulder into the room, " is all that's left". He hadn't realized that it had been *that long*.
"Where did you come from?" he said.
"I lived next door, see? I always knew that we'd get back together." She said pointing towards another door. Her door was flung open, and only emptiness was inside. Jack could see her door dissolving into nothingness.
"We can't hide here. " She continued. "We've jammed up the works, I think"
"What works?".
"*the* works. The universe. It needs us. Well, not us, but our matter. Step outside for minute. I'll show you".
He couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to leave his sanctuary, but he understood what she meant. He'd wondered about what would happen at the end. Never having a head for science, but he'd watched the universe die. He'd observed with his eyes over billions of years, what the ancient scientists of his world predicted. The universe had expanded to oblivion.
"Are we the very last?", he asked her.
"Yes, we are. It is up to us." she replied, reaching out her hand from over the threshold for him to grasp. "Come".
And he did. He took her hand and looked around his room where he had slept until the end of time.
"What do we do?" he said, looking at her eyes.
"Well, i guess we just have to wait and see together".
Stepping out of his self imposed holographic cell, collapsed it. It's illusion of gravity faded and the two were suspended in darkness. Complete darkness. He couldn't see her face now that they were back inside a universe so dead that every photon had long since run its course.
They hung together, together their density was all that was left. And all that was needed to balance the equation.
They waited, and upon them the universe reconvened. Waiting for time to end had been an ordeal, but nobody had prepared him for how long it would take for time to begin again. | 2017-05-03T09:26:47 | 2017-05-03T08:20:21 | 32 | 10 |
[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. | So there I was at the park getting a hot dog, right? Now, for whatever reason, a raven plunges down towards the hot dog guy like he's personally responsible for Edgar Allen Poe's death and the hot dog guy basically boils his hand while dodging the bird and getting me a delicious, delicious glizzy. Seriously these things are a godsend. I wish I knew where he sources them. There's like a specific blend of pork and beef where it's more beefy than porky, but it's spiced just right, y'know? Anyway, the man's hand is looking pretty bad. It's red and swelling quick.
I ask Hot Dog Guy "Can I help?"
Reasonably pissed, he asks back "ARE YOU A GODDAMN DOCTOR? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GONNA DO?"
Now I'm the kind of guy that bitches and moans when he bumps into a table, so who am I to knock the guy for having a tantrum when his skin is basically falling off? The redness on his fingers is off-putting, but the guy's screams of pain distract from that, so this shouldn't be hard.
A crowd is already gathering. I point to this one lady in a beanie, which I don't know why she's wearing that thing it's like 80⁰F out, and tell her to call an Uber to get this guy to a hospital. Obviously she's very confused and asks why Uber, but I don't have time to explain the American healthcare system, so I yell at her "MEDICAL DEBT. SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET ONE."
I grab the guy's hand and make eye contact. I send him to a nice relaxing bench at the park on a nice, sunny day – okay, so it was basically what I was doing 10 minutes before, but it was still nice. He stops screaming and the hand seems to be going back to normal. Two birds, one stone or one crow, one hot dog cart, I guess. Whichever sounds better.
Hot Dog Guy comes to after a couple shakes. He looks dazed wondering what's going on, but I walk him to the Uber and tell him he's going to the hospital. I'm pretty sure I got him alright, but I'm still covering my ass.
I make myself a hot dog because healing makes me hungry and who's gonna stop me? I just saved a guy's hand. I leave a fiver under the mustard. Beanie comes to me and asks "So he's gonna be okay?" I nod and give her a twenty for the Uber and walk away. All I hear is "It was $25 actually." I keep walking.
I get to a nice tree to sit under and grow a branch out to give me some shade. There's a ton of people out today, so a lot to look at. Dogs playing, people running, even some kids being absolute trash at soccer. Fun stuff.
The same raven from before lands on the branch I made. I know it's the same one because it's looking at me with the same beady little righteous eyes it used to target Hot Dog Guy. I make the branch fling the raven away from me. Now, I didn't think things through, because I forgot ravens are birds and birds fly. The thing caught itself midair, came back, and landed in front of me and stared for a while. There's a glint in its eye that's like a ruby with a secondary purple shine. It was then that I knew that this could only be one person, Raya.
So, Raya transforms right in front of me. It's less gross than I thought it would be, but watching that beak turn into a face is weirder in person. I'm still eating my hot dog, looking at her. Someone told me once that she looks like Raven from Teen Titans and I'm seeing it now at, like, the worst possible moment because she's in fighting stance, ready to beat my ass with a long glowstick she calls The Calling of the Ethereal, and I'm trying not to spit out white bread and mystery meat on her shoes.
"You almost fucked up my favorite hot dog guy," I said.
"I was aiming for you,"
"Really? That's kinda flattering, not gonna lie,"
"You really want us to believe you don't care, do you?"
"About what?"
"We know what you're up to"
"Yeah, up to here," I gesture above my head. I swear to god, I am such a shithead sometimes. I don't know why I do these things. "I just wanna finish my hot dog,"
"I don't think you understand. Come with us,"
"Us? I get to meet the rest of the Hot Topic staff?"
At this point Raya has had enough of me and starts walking towards me. Now, I'm not just gonna sit here and be beaten with a stick from someone who's not my mom, so of course I raise a tree root and trip her. She falls, I hold a laugh. I must've held it a little too hard because apparently I tripped one of the kids playing soccer, so says the tree i used to commit said tripping.
"Tripping children are we?" says a stern, condescending voice.
It's Magnanimous. He's basically Superman, but, like, shitty.
I go "Hey, Maggie. What's good?"
"Not you," he replies.
"What do you mean?"
"We know,"
"Know what?"
"What you're planning,"
"Which is?"
"Come with us,"
I genuinely have no idea what these nerds are talking about and they keep using these bullshit cop tactics on me. I think they watched the same Law & Order episode that I saw last night. They want a confession, but all I got is this hot dog.
"Nah," I say, kinda just standing there.
Raya shouts "CUT THE BLASÉ BULLSHIT," .
"I genuinely have no idea what you're talking about,"
"Tell us what we want to know" says Magnanimous.
"I thought you already knew,"
I've never seen such a disgusted, disappointed face made by a man.
"This whole careless attitude thing you're using as a mask, it's going to fall," said Magnanimous
Raya chimes in "And when it does, we'll be there to catch it,"
I've watched enough Cartoon Network in my life to know that exchange was lifted from a Justice League episode.
Magnanimous walks up to me and gets right in my face "Remember. Lightning strikes before thunder claps,"
I'm not exactly sure how that metaphor applies here and I don't really think Mag does either, but him saying strikes makes me wanna go bowling. But I can't go bowling alone, because the guys that are really into bowling try to make conversation with me. I've already made Mag and Raya mad enough, so why not go for a long shot?
"Speaking of strikes, do either of you wanna go bowling?"
Magnanimous flies away angrier than I've ever seen him. More than when he fought the guy who made a mecha fueled by the concept of violence. I look over to Raya who transforms back into a raven and flies away into a murder of crows. Based on the loud squawking and her changing direction, I don't think they took to her well.
Oh well. At least now I can finally finish my hot dog. | "Whoa, guys, now wait just a sec", I said while raising my hands in a warding gesture towards the two supes trying to threaten me with their powers.
"No more waiting, Carl", said Josh the Jellyfish. Yes, he picked that name. "Your time's up", added Rocky Rhayle. "Either you spill your secrets now or we spill your guts. Your decision."
I rolled my eyes. "First of all, do you really believe you could 'spill my guts' that easily? Second, Josh, we were flatmates when we were in university. What secrets do you think I'm hiding? Not to mention that about five of your friends already tried to find any evidence that I'm more than I seem to be in the past week alone. This is really getting out of hand and very annoying so please just accept that I'm simply not interested in being a celebrity like you."
"Sure", Rhayle replied. "A man with your abilities would have absolutely no ambition to make the world a better place."
"Look", I said, rubbing my temples with my right hand. "It's more complicated than that. I do have my reasons not to act while terrible things happen, really, I do, but they're not part of any evil plan or something. I just..." I broke off. "I can't tell you. It's too dangerous."
"So there is actually a secret!" Rhayle exclaimed triumphantly and crossed her arms with a very satisfied face.
"Yes, and I have no intention of telling you whatsoever", I said. The next moment, my whole body dissolved into a viscous liquid and I escaped through a crack in the wall behind me. I filled it with stone as soon as I had reached the other side, though that wouldn't stall Rhayle for very long. So I started running, my legs propelling me forward four times faster than normal. I turned some corners to shake off anyone tailing me. Some moments later I saw Rhayle flying past the entrance to the alley I hid in, standing firmly on a disc of rock, Josh clinging to her for dear life as they zipped though the streets.
I waited a minute more, then I exited the alley, walking down the street in the opposite direction of where my would-be pursuers had headed to.
I sighed. I would have to sneak back into my own house again today. Hopefully Rhayle would already be there when I returned so I could dig a tunnel into the cellar. If I could only find someone who was able to create illusions I could start a new life with a new face somewhere else. Or would that be too taxing for them? Also, I would need to stay close by...
I lost myself in those thoughts as I wandered homewards, which was a fatal mistake. I realised that when I was pulled into a doorway suddenly and someone pushed my down to the floor. I hit hard, my backbone protesting loudly. I blinked, attempting to reorient myself. Where was I? And what the heck was going on?
"Hello Carl, old friend," a terribly familiar voice said. "Velu?" I called, rolling over so that I lay flat on by belly. My view landed directly on a pair of dirty old boots. I glanced upwards and saw a young woman staring down at me with a faint smile on her lips.
I groaned. Getting caught by somebody twice a day? It was a new record high. I got up again and, while dusting of my clothing, explained: "Look, I don't really have the time or the patience to deal with you right now, so, you know." I shrugged. Then I tried to find someone with powers that could be useful. And if it was only someone particularly strong - not even supernaturally.
It didn't work. It felt like I had lost a sense, gone blind or deaf.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, darling', my ex-girlfriend sighed, "but none of your powers are going to work - for quite a while, I'm afraid. You see, Crane the Collector here has the remarkable ability to take someone's powers away from them and use them himself. It's quite handy to be honest." She gestured to a hulking man behind her I only now noticed. "What do you feel?" she asked him, but he only furrowed his brows. I groaned on the inside. This was going to start a whole host of problems.
"Well?" Velu asked again.
"I don't... I don't understand...", Crane mumbled. Despite the unpleasant situation I was stuck in a grin split my face. It was actually funny - somehow.
"Perhaps you should stop and try again," I suggested. "Maybe you accidentally suppressed your own powers."
I could hardly believe it, but the idiot really fell for the trick.
As soon as I felt my powers returning - marked by a prickling sensation all over my body - I attacked. I stretched out my feelers for the man's energy source, the one that powered his abilities, and redirected the flow towards myself. I did the same to Velu and everybody else in the building for good measure - though I really tried not to take too much. They were villains, yes, but I didn't want to kill anyone - not as I had done the first few times I had used my powers.
I was out the roof of the building a second later, the wind carrying me away. I landed after only flying a short distance. I didn't want to risk losing the connection and plummeting to my death.
After having recovered from the awful experience of having my own powers turned against me, I went looking for Josh and Rhayle. If someone who could do the same things I could had joined the battlefield, I probably had to step up and put him in his place.
Even though I just hated bloodshed and all that stuff... | 2021-08-16T19:42:36 | 2021-08-16T14:51:45 | 212 | 80 |
[WP] A world in which everyone develops superpowers. Most get variants of the most common types; Speed, Strength, Hearing, etc. You, however, have just discovered your own. You can punch people through the Internet. | The advent of testing for genetic markers of "meta-human" abilities in the 22nd century really helped stratify the post-evolution society. When meta-human abilities were first discovered, it was often by pure chance, and it was really difficult and required days of extensive behavior tests to verify an aptitude. In the year 2159, a geneticist at the former Broad Institute was able to gather DNA samples of 100,000 meta-human subjects and developed a test to be able to quickly categorize a person's innate aptitude for their ability.
By the time that the cheap $50 test was integrated with the traditional college application process, all of the major tier-1 colleges required applicants to submit test results along with their standard application package. This led to the foreseeable result of many Universities attempting to specialize in specific areas of competence. Harvard was seeking memory-enhanced applicants for their history department. MIT was seeking computation-enhanced applicants for their CS and Engineering majors. Stanford developed a clear preference for upper-body strength-enhanced applicants in a bid to finally break into the crowded rowing and crew tournaments.
When Bob got the results of his test in the mail, he was extremely disappointed and puzzled. The letter from the thin white envelope contained a one bold-face line...
Bob Kreigman:
***************
RESULT: Not matched for any known aptitude.
***************
Clearly, this crushed his dream of getting into Duke's telepathy department. So he did what any normal high school senior would do in his situation - he posted the results on 5chan and asked for advice. The trolls soon descended.
"Well, at least you can still make a decent salary working at McDonald's"
"Are you sure you tested negative for being a dumbass?"
"Go kill yourself."
Bob had expected some trolls, but one comment about being a poster-child for the perils of being genetically stunted by inbreeding really set him off. In fact, the emotional letdown of the negative test results and the sheer volume of troll posts angered him so much, he punched his monitor in frustration. However, instead of shattering the display, his fist went *through* the monitor, and his fist connected with a fleshy "thwack" to user anonymous13541998's chin.
"OW, what the fuck man!" Came through the speakers on the bottom of his monitor.
This was the start of Bob's new business - Kreigman Private Investigation for the 22nd Century. After honing his skills, he was able to reach through and throttle any anonymous poster of any internet forum and social media website. His clientelle slowly grew as word of mouth spread of his unique ability. His initial customers were jealous girlfriends who wanted to slap the girls posting Facebook comments on their boyfriend's wall. Eventually, he was sought out by PR firms to be a publicity consultant for major brands. Usually the job involved punching people who left negative reviews of his client's products on Amazon or Yelp.
One day, Bob got a mysterious email from a .gov address. It was a clear request to punch the sender in the face. When he pulled his fist back from the monitor, though, he noticed that there was a CIA business card and a short message scrawled on the back.
"Needed to verify first. Would like to talk about an espionage and counter-propagandist analyst position at the Agency. Call this number if you are interested."
With a smile, Bob knew that he would be alright. | "Really??" I typed back! Idiot! Who the hell did these friggin keyboard warriors think they are? "Bet if you were here, I'd take you out, punk." Damn my luck (and my temper) for not being at my apartment where my punching bag was. And then getting in a fight on McDonalds Wifi? "If only I could punch this fool through his screen!"
Suddenly I paused. In the last year or so (who knew exactly?) folks had been getting super powers...levitation, laser eyes, that kind of tomfoolery. What I wanted was to be able to punch someone though their screen...I could see my fist connecting with his nose...boy could I!! What if...did people get those powers because they wanted them? In a world full of super powers, I had none. Not even speed reading (I dunno why anyone would want that, i rather enjoy taking my reading slowly), but anyway.... I closed my eyes, and concentrated on my fists, imagining feeling the screen yield as my fist touched it, then the sound of breaking cartilage. I felt a tingling beginning in my fingertips, then working its way up my arms to my shoulders. And furthermore, when I concentrated on JBDoolie998, I could actually see the SOB sitting in his armchair, triumphant grin on his face as he held his cell up to his face. Heheheh...I giggled softly. I glanced at my new smartphone, hoped I wasn't being an idiot, and aimed my fist for its screen. And...."MOTHERFUCKER!! Who the hell hit me? How the fucks' this even possible? My fucking PHONE just hit me!"
"No dumbass," I typed at his outburst, "You just met the Female Fist of Fury fucker!!" | 2017-03-15T11:49:31 | 2017-03-15T09:56:27 | 388 | 62 |
[WP] "Are you the Tooth Fairy? You don't look like a fairy," the child said accusingly. Death, who had been on his way to the goldfish bowl, began to sweat. | I stop and turn to look at the child, who's staring at me from behind a teddy bear almost twice her size. I know everything about her instantly. Her name: Rose Smith. Her age: 8 years, 10 months, 5 days, 4.5 hours. Her time of death: 10:35pm on September 15, 2080.
"You aren't the Tooth Fairy," she says confidently. "Fairies are pretty and small and they have wings like butterflies."
"How can you see me?" I ask. Humans can't normally see me unless they've taken a life. And 8-year-old Rose Smith doesn't look like she even knows the definition of murder.
The child shrugs. "I dunno. I see lots of things." She eyes me suspiciously. "What are you doing in my room?"
I glance at the goldfish dying in the bowl ahead of me. I'm slightly ahead of schedule, which makes me more willing to entertain questions than usual. "I'm here to reap Nemo's soul."
"Why?"
"Because it's his time to die."
"Why?"
"Because that's what I see when I look at him."
"Why?"
"Because I said so!"
She looks suddenly sad. "But he's my only friend."
I was afraid she might say that.
"Have you ever seen anyone die, Rose?"
She shakes her head.
"Have you ever known anyone who died?"
She shakes her head again, then hesitates. "My mommy died when I came out of her. Daddy says it's my fault. He says I killed her." She buries her face in her teddy bear. "He says it all the time."
I remember reaping Daisy Smith's soul that day in the hospital. It was true in a way, that the childbirth had killed her. But her child has been told so often she intentionally did it that she actually believes it. That's why she can see me. An unusual case, but not unprecedented.
"Look at me, Rose."
She raises her head at my voice, suddenly transfixed. I've shifted into a different form entirely. One with wings like butterflies.
"You *are* the Tooth Fairy," she says, both triumphant and delighted.
"Here's the thing, Rose," I say in my tiny voice. "Life is full of things that happen just because, and they aren't anyone's fault. Humans like to think of Death as its own separate entity, as something they can forget about most of the time, but I'm a part of life just like everything else." I flap my Tooth Fairy wings. "Just like growing up and losing your teeth." I shift to my Santa Claus form. "Or spending time with your family even when you're older." I shift into my Cupid form. "Or falling in love out of nowhere." I shift back into my Grim Reaper form. "Or accepting that death is a part of life. Your mommy died and it wasn't anyone's fault. Your goldfish is dying and that's not anyone's fault either, Rose. I wish more people could understand that."
She stares at me for the longest time, then nods and buries her face in her teddy bear again. I take my opportunity to reap the goldfish's soul. It wriggles in the pocket of my cloak as I clean off my scythe, waiting for the child to finish thinking about what I've said.
Finally, Rose says, "I think I understand."
She lifts her head and looks around. I smile because I know what it means.
I know she can't see me anymore.
"Hello, Mr. Death?" she asks. "Where did you go?" | There it was. The familiar tug of my work calling me to the mortal plains. The last job of the day before I get to go home to the black abyss and watch Netflix.(Yes I have Netflix, I need some entertainment too)
I am death, more specifically, the grim reaper who works 9-5 Monday through Friday and gets holidays. Yep. I get holidays off.
So why do people still die when I’m off? Well that’s because Jim works the shifts that I’m out. He’s really nice and if you’re lucky, he’ll be the one to come for you but that’s beside the point.
So then... it’s looks like I’ve got a pretty standard job today, another goldfish that was overly fed. There’s a blond blue eyed kid sleeping in bed... hold on how do I know his eye colo- he’s not asleep. Oh. Well it should be fin-
“Are you the tooth fairy?”
What? I don’t have any change on me. This. Isn’t. Good. He can see me, that’s not normal.
“Well? You don’t look like the tooth fairy?”
Gotta come up with something quick
“How would you know that you snot nosed brat?”
That should shut him up
“Tooth fairies are girls and you aren’t a girl”
Ok he is starting to get on my nerves.
“Listen here you sexist fuck, I know what I am so shut up”
I walked over to his fish and grabbed it, it’s tiny little body was surprisingly slippery but I got it none the less. Time to go, I’m done with this kid
He just threw a toy at me. That insolent little shit.
...
...
...
Ringgggg
Rinngggg
Ringgg-
“Hey uhhh Jim?”
“Yeah?”
“So I got the fish...”
“And?”
“Well I picked up an extra soul...by accident”
“Sigh...fine, I’ll cover for you. Say he saw you and fell down the stairs”
“Ok thanks” | 2020-01-24T13:34:45 | 2020-01-24T12:07:12 | 306 | 36 |
[WP] a flash of light covers the earth & 1% of the population gets super powers. You are not one of them. Years later a task force is made to register everyone with powers. Theres a knock on your door & its a member of this task force who says he actually impressed with how well you kept your secret | "Kept my secret? I really don't know what you are talking about," I said. I didn't. A few minutes ago an agent from the SPTA (Super Power Task Alliance) force had knocked on my door and proclaimed in a loud voice how impressed he was with my ability to keep my secret.
I invited him in. As we having a birthday party for my mom, most of my family was there and heard him. I sighed. "Look, Agent?" I began.
"Treveco," he replied.
"Agent Treveco, I really don't know what you are talking about. Maybe you have me confused with my cousin Sandy? She can fly, you know," I pointed her out just as she shoved a forkful of birthday cake in her mouth. Without missing a beat, she kept chewing then floated a foot of the floor, waited a second, then returned down and took another bite of cake.
"No, young woman, we are well aware of her and she is properly registered. Its you that we want to speak to," he intoned in that semi-official deep voice agents liked to us when speaking to us peons.
I looked behind him, then outside briefly, before asked "Um, who is this 'we'? I only see you," I pointed out. I hated officialese.
Slightly embarrassed, Agent Treveco coughed once into his hand, then still using that phony fake voice, said "We is the SPTA, Local Office 97, San Diego. And by we, I mean the entire force. We are aware you have superpowers." At this, the family stopped talking and every head turned to stare at me. Shit. I hated being the center of attention.
"Auntie Sam, can you fly?" One of my brother's kids asked. "Are you in, in, invumerably?" asked his younger sister. Their dad, my brother Manuel hit my arm.
"Ouch. WTF, Manny?" I exclaimed.
"Nope, that ain't it," he said and laughed. Jerk.
"See, Agent? No powers here. I have a cheap ass job at Mickey D's, take the bus to work, and live with my parents. Does that sound like a superhero?" I said morosely.
Agent Treveco was starting to look confused. He opened his phone and started scrolling through some emails. He looked at me again, then at an email. "Miss, it says here you definitely have powers? Can't you do, well, anything?" he asked plaintively.
"Nope," I said definitely. "My life now is exactly what it was before the Event. Sorry. I think I would know if I had powers. Don't you?"
He shook his head. "Well, I will correct our records, but I still don't understand how a mix up like this can happen. Sorry, miss." He turned and walked out the door, still mumbling to himself.
"Hey Sam," my mom called out. "Could you grab some more cola from the fridge? Anyone else need anything?" Everyone shook their heads no, except Manny. "I could use a beer, Sam, if you don't mind?"
I went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. As usual, it was nearly empty. Reaching in, I twisted my hand slightly, and instantly a case of beer and a case of Coke appeared on the empty shelves. Ice cold. "Perfect," I thought, grabbing a beer and a coke before heading back into the party. | Years after the event known as the Enlightening, I was a rich man. I also had an entire bodyguard army of Enlightened. Though, I knew I had powers, I chose not to use it because I had one of the most powerful abilities of all.
They call an ability on my level a Jehovah Class. High potential to be world ending.
A beep from the phone. I pressed speakerphone.
"Yes, Veronica?"
"A man from the Center for Chaos Containment is here to see you."
My heart dropped. Did he really know? "Show him in." I said, without revealing my fear.
A well dressed man with sunglasses came in, shook my hand, and sat down. I knew he knew right away as soon as I touched him.
"Gaius Nemon, I am impressed." He said.
I raised my eyebrows. "Impressed with what?"
He took off his sunglasses to reveal yellow eyes. "With how long you hid your abilities. Your power is so great, how can you hide it?"
"I fail to understand what you mean, and if you continue this course of accusation I will get my security force." I lied. Of course I wouldn't. This man was a government employee. I couldn't touch him.
"You are a Jehovah Class Enlightened."
Finally I caved with a heaving sigh. "You found me. But how? I covered my tracks so well."
"Well, a few of our Enlightened members are Psykers, and they could feel something. But there are only fifteen Jehovah Classes in existence, save you, of course." He said.
"Does this mean you have to bring me in?"
"No, that's impractical. We are just going to track your movements."
"Given what you know, you should know that even that is impractical. I have copied the abilities of so many, and even you. Your memories, skills, everything."
"Yes, and I think we can reach an arrangement."
"Of what sort?" I steepled my fingers.
"The beneficial kind. You in?" | 2019-11-02T14:00:32 | 2019-11-02T13:23:13 | 74 | 34 |
[WP]You've washed ashore a deserted island. You find a message in a bottle meant specifically for you. | I'd been sitting in the sand for atleast an hour, listening to the waves come in with my feet buried in the sand. By now, I'd probably suffered a monstrous sunburn. I had just finished walking around the entire island - it seemed to have a continuous beach around the entire island. There was nothing here, save from the sand and palmtrees, and the occasional strange plant I didn't recognize. I'd never been in the jungle, in fact I'd never even been close to the equator. I was Canadian, used to snow and biting cold. If you'd ask me then how I got there, I wouldn't have an answer. I myself didn't know. It wasn't until I noticed a continuous, strange sound that I got my first clue. It took me a while to determine where it came from, and no wonder, it wasn't in sight. It turned out to be a bottle, smashing against a V shaped rock out in the water, and I had to wade out into the water up to my chest to find it.
I lifted the bottle towards the sun, noticing something inside. The bottle seemed old, as if it had drifted at sea for years. The message I pulled out of it once I came ashore again was even older. *Oh, Jordan... I am so sorry. I am so... so sorry. A young man your age should not have to go through this. I hope you find it in you to forgive me one day. They say you are lost, that it's soon time to let you go... I don't know, I guess I just wanted to.. God, this is harder than I thought...*
There was a pause between the lines, before it continued.
*I-I lost control, and it all happened so fast, you know? It's... I'm.. What? Already? Alright, fine, fine... Jordan, I love you. Come back to us.*
I fell to a sit, finding shelter in the shade under a tall coconut tree, pressing my back up against the trunk as I read the note over and over. It didn't make any sense. After a while of thinking, I brought the bottle with me and pocketed the note, searching the island. 'This must be some kind of game', I thought, as I started searching for more clues to where I was and why. But hours of searching in the heat weakened me substantially. It took a while, but eventually I managed to crack open a coconut I found on the ground, and I drank its milk. It tasted nothing like what they make coconut candy and shampoo smells out to be like, but it was my only option.
After giving up for tonight, I made a makeshift bed using palm fronds. The sky was crystal clear of light pollution, and every point of light in the night sky sparkled with lights. It was beautiful. Reminded me of going out to the cabin up in the mountains with my dad, on the snowmobile.
As I began to close my eyes, I thought about the note again. The way it was written, it was almost... familiar. You know how certain people speak a certain way? Well, I couldn't shake the feeling that the note came from my brother.
The next morning, I woke up to what felt like being stabbed in the back. A vacuum felt like it sucked the air out of my lungs, and then back in. I tried to fight it, rolling around in the sand, coughing. My body jerked awkwardly, as I watched the sky rip open, as if someone grabbed and tore it apart. The horizon seemed to be getting closer, and the palm trees around me fell one by one into the ground with a heavy thud. I tried to hold on, but it was futile. A snake seemed to be trapped in my lungs, but it was pulled out of me by an external force. I could finally breathe. I tried opening my eyes, but it was still black, save for a small opening with a glimmer of light. I heard a beeping sound. I heard moving, and stressed voices. And then I heard a strangers voice. "He will never walk again." | There I was. A few days ago I was on a plane to Madrid. I was going to have a nice vacation. You see, my job is quite exhausting. I suppose you could say, I'm a... cleaner of some sort. When there's filth in your way, bugging you, I am there to make it go away. For a reasonable price ofcourse. Take the lady who called me a few weeks ago. Divorced woman, scared to death of her ex-husband. He would not leave her alone. So she gathered up her savings and paid me a nice amount of money, and I took care of the matter. But I'm not just an extremely violent marriage counselor. I try to go for big targets as well. Had to get rid of some mob boss the other day, who had been bothering an acquitance of mine. "No exceptions here", I told him. He had to pay up. And the smart man he is, he did. But my last job was of different proportions. Some high commander in ISIS. Yeah, the terrorist group. Normally I don't try to involve myself with that kind of people. But this was a good friend of mine who asked. With an even better sum of money. So I thought, what the hell, why not? I can pull it off. It took me a couple of months to even get near this guy. But soon enough, I was able to get alone with him, disarmed him and stabbed him in the eye. Slit his throat afterwards to be sure. Then I started a fire, and slipped away in the chaos. Got the hell out of the area, and took a plane to my vacation adress. The plane somehow crashed. I'm no plane expert, but something wasn't right. It was sabotaged. And I was the only survivor. Believe me, I checked. So I'm sitting here, on this island, alone. And as I'm checking the horizon for ships, planes or whatever, a bottle comes ashore. It contains a piece of paper.
*Kill our people, and this is what will happen. You will die alone, on a deserted island, like some caveman. This is your punishment, infidel.*
Now I knew who I was dealing with. Normally I don't associate with these people. I don't go after them. They should have just let it blow over. Because usually I do it all for the money. But now I'm mad. And you don't want me to be mad at you, trust me. | 2015-08-07T09:14:12 | 2015-08-07T09:10:05 | 44 | 12 |
[WP] You are the human ancestor who first tamed fire. Now to convince the rest of your idiot tribe of its usefulness. | "It hurt. No like."
Grug sighed. Hurnk had shared the sentiment many times, and it was growing tiresome. The gnarled pack elder sat several yards away from the flame, repeatedly fingering the blistered flesh on his hand and wincing dramatically. The rest of the pack eyed their elder and the pile of burning sticks with looks that ranged between worry, shock, and even hostility. Grug addressed Hurnk again, loud enough that the others could hear too,
"It keep warm."
"So do bear pelt." Hurnk spat.
"Bear pelt no make light at night." Grug retorted. Hurnk harrumphed.
"Who need light when night? Night for sleep anyway. We no need. Just hurt. Bad" Grug wanted so badly to beat on the old goat's face. The old man was wary, a consequence of the many seasons he had seen and the many scars that decorated his wrinkled body. Grug decided to try a new angle.
"Spear hurt," Grug said. "but spear good. Small sun hurt, but also good like spear. Make light, make warm when no bear pelt. See?" There were murmurs from the pack as men and women nodded to each other, whispering to themselves. It was true, spears could be dangerous too, but were they not useful for taking down the elk? Hurnk grunted loudly and the mummers died.
"It DIFFERENT." He said.
"Why different?" Said Grug.
"Put spear down, spear no hurt, sept when step on. Small sun move. Small sun ALIVE. I SEEN. I SEEN small sun make BIG sun! I seen when sky cracks. I seen big tree die. We smaller than big tree. Small sun kill us when not looking. Should no trust small sun. Should stomp dead." Again there were mummers in the pack. The fearful and angry glances returned.
"Not make big sun if put rocks around, see?"
"Jump over, hurt you, hurt US."
The murmurers increased in volume. Grug was losing.
"No, wait-" a rock tumbled through the air near the flame, and Grug's words were lost amid the pack's indignant whooping and hollering. After the rock came a stick, then a clod of dirt, then a barrage of missiles as the pack fell into a frenzy.
"KILL SMALL SUN" They shouted, "KILL"
"NO!" Grug pleaded, but it was too late. The crowd closed in and shut him out, smothering the small sun with mud and rocks. One male tried stomping on it and cried out,
"IT BIT ME! IT BIT ME!" he yelped, and there were cries of fear and anger from the crowd. They beat at the flames with whatever they could get their hands on, and very soon the stack of bright burning sticks was nothing but a crushed pile of blackened, smoking twigs. As the crowd dispersed, Grug knelt helplessly beside his failed invention as the cold evening air began to creep quietly into his bones.
&#x200B;
&#x200B; | “We like it raw”, “if God wanted us to eat it cooked he would of made it cooked”, “I burned my mouth again”... this is what I dealt with on a daily bases. How, how could I get my costumers to stay loyal. To need my fire, to give me all their wealth just for a change in temperature?
Caffeine
The best way to get a costumer and keep a costumer is to give them an addictive substance for free and have them come back over and over again slowly raising the price. Turns out if you consume enough caffeine every morning you get headaches when you don’t have it and you develop problems staying awake. You won’t die from it and it might actually help you. But that doesn’t really matter, because I need to convince these barbarians that they need fire if they want coffee.
I started out small. “Just roast the beans then chew on them and you’ll have the energy of a horse.” I told them.
Over time they became more bold. Brewed alcohol, started baking bread, and soon enough and without any of my help unlocked the secrets of sugar.
Sugar, is the most dangerous drug in the world and the most profitable. Every form of it from high fructose corn syrup to maple syrup needs some kind of heat source to cultivate it into a delicious delight.
My name is prometheus, and I am the proud owner of Splenda, this is my story. Once upon a time...
| 2019-01-09T04:35:23 | 2019-01-09T04:35:05 | 96 | 10 |
[WP] "No person shall be executed without their last meal made to their liking." The prisoners know this and make insane requests. You, as the chef for death row, somehow procure the otherworldly ingredients for their meals. | Number 338462. Bank robber who took hostages and killed them. Said it was an accident. Asked for unicorn flank steak sprinkled with pixie dust served with roasted mandragora. Not mandrake, he wanted the real stuff that could kill its cultivator. Death by electric chair 15 years ago.
Number 448927. Serial killer who had a penchant for people who wore silk. "The Silk Strangler" wasn't a creative name especially since he didn't strangle his victims. Asked for Arcturan Meagdonkey. Someone read a bit much Douglas Adams. Death by injection 5 years ago.
Number 283371. Simple homicide for insurance money. Killed his wife, tried to frame the black neighbor as a botched rape, not knowing the neighbor was a war veteran who had injuries that made it impossible. Finally ran out of appeals and stone walling. Asked for hot wings made from actual demon wings. The Vatican made that an easy one to fulfill. Death by injection 3 years ago.
When the warden offered you a position challenging your skill as not only a chef but a procurer of only the finest ingredients, you took him up on the challenge. These death row inmates made for some of the most challenging meals. And they couldn't be sent on their way with a good meal. Almost a guilty pleasure, you looked forward to the next request each time someone else was to be executed.
But this latest one... This one didn't make sense.
With the warden's permission and escorted by guards, you approached the inmate's cell. "Number 619188?"
The lone occupant looked up wearily. "Yeah? Who're you?"
"I'm the chef for Death Row. And I'm a little puzzled at your request."
619188 looked confused. "Sorry? I mean, I didn't think it was difficult."
"Let me ask you something, you know how this works right? You don't go until you've had your last meal."
"Yeah, I understood that quite clear."
"So I'm surprised your request is a little simple."
619188 looked even more confused. "I don't understand. Can I not have my last meal or something?"
"I'm worried someone is messing with the system. So I came to make sure your order is correct."
"Tomato soup with grilled cheese."
619188 said exactly what you had gotten. You asked the guard several times if that's what he wanted. The guard said that's what he had been told. This... this was unprecedented.
When you observed the others having their last meal and saw before them the concoctions they ordered, you saw a look of defeat. Their last attempt to screw the system, or at least circumvent it, failing with delicious flavor. (Except that demon wing one. Cooked up nice but tasted like sin.)
Here before you was a man already defeated. His spirit crushed. You came here because you weren't being challenged. He was here because he didn't care anymore.
It was the last meal you cooked in that prison. It wasn't a fancy soup made from tomatoes grown on an alien world. It didn't use cheese that aged under the moonlight of a Tibetan monastery. It was simple.
You delivered the meal to 619188 and, for a brief moment, he smiled as if reminded of a better time. You quit after that, feeling that your skills had finally been tested and found wanting. Not because of a lack of talent, but because of a lack of humanity. | I clubbed the Warden over the head with the bread roller. It was done. The rest was easy now. The inmate's last requested meal was not being granted as far as the prison officials knew, because the Warden just wasn't on the menu. But I was going to provide exactly what was on request.
I dragged the man into the kitchen, with the help of my favorite kitchen staff, a young prisoner that got life without parole for a complicated and gruesome murder. We had decided to make the meal to the letter and there was no turning back. The Warden lay bleeding, barely alive, just as was specified. I didn't want to kill the man yet and he didn't have to die anyway, not for the amount of flesh we needed to make the meal with.
No one would come looking in the kitchen even if they realized he was missing because no one would ever suspect such a thing, they laughed when the inmate said he wanted to have a meat pie made from the Warden. That was just insane so they forced him to choose another dish, meatloaf.
No, he was getting just what he wanted, because after all, it was what I wanted too.
And I was making one for myself anyway. The Warden had been taken the "excess" money from the prisoners meal funds and buying extravagant homes with the money. Tonight one prisoner will get what he considers retribution for the paltry plates of food being served at the prison for the the last 5 years.
*First time I ever wrote anything like this, or any story at all to be honest.
The writing prompt as well as this link was the inspiration.
https://www.cbsnews.com/news/alabama-sheriff-legally-pocketed-750k-from-inmate-food-funds-bought-beach-house/ | 2020-02-19T08:32:16 | 2020-02-19T08:12:36 | 429 | 97 |
[WP] You are a well respected, elite assassin. You always get your target and you make it seem like an accident. The only problem is you have no idea what you are doing. You get the assignment and your target always seems to die of natural causes. | (My first writing outside of high school i just thought it would be fun to participate, please be gentle)
My movements were fluid and precise. A hallowed dance of creation, bringing the symbol of my will to bear. A sleek and elegant rifle soon lay before me. Custom made, every piece. It was the instrument I played, the needle of my tapestries.
We are all dominated by chance, whether you are a congressman or a truck driver. Any day you could trip down stairs and break your neck, or be struck by lightning. Accidents were easy to create. The game was in using a gun to trigger the accident. The ultimate test of skill. My skill. Using a lethal weapon to simply start a chain of events, resulting in a purely "natural" death.
I had studied my target for months, learning his habits, his environment, every single detail I could discover. The trap was set, his fate was sealed. I readied my rifle. A single perfect bullet was chambered, the familiar metallic click a death knell.
This was my most intricate plan yet, a shot on the second floor of a building along the route to his favorite coffee shop would startle a mouse. The mouse would set it all in motion. I was rather proud of this one.
I waited with bated breath for my target's arrival. After what seemed like an eternity I saw him, rounding the corner with a hot dog. Not the best last meal, but i know he loved his street vendors.
I melted into my rifle, letting it be an extension of myself. Just as was the street, the buildings around me, and my target. It was time to exercise my will on the world.
I went absolutely still, awaiting the right moment.
Almost...
Almost...
NO! NOT AGAIN, NOT FUCKING AGAIN!
My world crumbled around me as I watched my target choke on his hot dog. I didn't need to check to know he was dead. It happened every goddamn time.
Why is it so hard to get a single well earned kill!?
Edit: I am shocked at how much love this got. I love reading and always have, but never really written anything. I have wanted to write a prompt for awhile but was scared it would sound good in my head and by awful. This was really outside my comfort zone so I appreciate all the love, I may write more based on the reception.
Also, changed baited to bated, from a comment | My next target was the pretty, blonde girl regaling the entire bar with her adventures as a female rogue.
Apparently, she had also pissed someone else off enough for them to hire an assassin - me - to kill her. Bet she didn't know that story, though.
Either way, my plan was to ask her out (you know, get her alone, not for sex or anything like that, nooooo sir, not me!) and then do what I had to do (kill her, I mean, not actually...*do* her or anything like that...heh...).
But when I asked her out, she died laughing. Literally laughed until she actually died. And that concluded my assignment.
So. In the end, I got paid, my reputation as a feared assassin grew, and oh! I'm still a virgin...yup.
Whoopee. -.- | 2018-10-08T20:45:37 | 2018-10-08T16:07:42 | 1,004 | 44 |
[WP] The Gods selected one human at random and created the Apocalypse based on that human’s worst fears. The human they chose was a toddler though, so when the Apocalypse came it was just clowns, vacuum cleaners, and broccoli. | AZAZEL! What in the name of unholy hell happened?
Azazel swallowed hard. He knew this was coming, the instant the script ran. He had no shame in the outcome, but he knew higher ups would not be so understanding.
“You said random, sir, so it was completely random. Your orders, are, as they say, Gospel.”
Yah-Rey facepalmed. He sat there for a good 20 seconds before lifting his head. “This sim was nearly flawless. Only to be ruined by a ridiculous ending. 6 billion years of simulated planetary time, only to look like a god damned circus at the credits. This is embarrassing. On all of us.”
“Sir, the script ran perfectly. I’ve spent the last 2,000 orbits verifying the the RNG we put in place. Random is random, if you wanted a more restricted set of inputs, you needed to say so.”
“Can we revert to backup and re-run this, please?”
A small girl stood up in the corner, and in a voice of an angel said, “You could, but you shouldn’t. Everyone would know you restarted and it would be an embarrassment to InfallibleGames.”
Yah loved that voice… the low contrabass gurgles and screeches that the angels made… which is why his “PR man” chose to use it every chance she got.
Azazel removed the fingers from his ears. “Why MUST you do that? Ugh. But she’s right. The sim still hasn’t terminated. Nobody has died or raptured from the clowns or vacuums. We’ve had a few deaths from choking on the broccoli… but since all the other protocols went offline when the Apocalypse started, things went a little wonky before we restarted them. It’s only been something like 60 cycles since the vacuums became available everywhere, so nobody even realized that was part of the endgame. That breakdown has led to some really weird shit, though. I mean weird. Like Donald Trump got elected President and the Cubs defied your decree against winning the series, since we started this meeting. That was like 5 orbits ago.”
“Motherf…”, Yah started, “Seriously, dude… fucking Broccoli??? \*sigh\* Why hasn’t the safety apocalypse run its course yet?”
Azazel straighten himself up a bit, “Well, on that, we have some, well, interesting news. I think we have an opportunity here. Luci- you want to tell him?”
The girl with the angelic voice grinned wide, showing the many rows of razor sharp teeth. “Az and I think we should keep this running as a bonus scene. The pandemic we set up as the backup is running… but the simulation adapted. Since the vacuum cleaners were introduced, the planet's scientists have made incredible strides, especially in medicine. The have created a prophylaxis that has prevented the widespread destruction we expected. We had to add bots to discourage the people from taking these countermeasures, with limited success. Less than 1 tenth of a percent have died from it. My suggestion is pretend that this was never meant as the end times, and throw in something for the viewers to make them think it was all a fake out.
"Maybe schedule an asteroid or something in another hundred cycles or so.”
Yah-Rey sighed. “I’m getting too old for this shit. Fine. It’s Friday. Let it run out. Lucifer, I’m putting you in charge of directing the next 50-whatever cycles while I come up with something over the weekend. If you let them do anything stupid like nuclear war or put another clown in a leadership position, I’m sending you back the the Lake of Fire project to sort out that mess. You understand?”
“You got it chief. See you Monday.” | *The apocalypse is nigh.*
The words rang around in heaven. Every single angel, from the newly made ones to the archangels waited for their instructions. The Gods were to meet and decide the outcome of this doomsday.
"What do you think will happen?"
"Definitely something worse than a flood or a comet."
"I heard they chose a human and based on their fears."
A gasp echoed in heaven at the last one. They knew humans and liked them some even loved then and some barely tolerated them but the truth was all the angels helped them. It was one of their motives.
"But what if they choose the evil one? It will be a nightmare."
A crack of lightening brought a stop to all the talks of what the human and its thought could result in. Something horrendous was a general consensus.
"We have decided to send a quarter of you to Earth, and the rest will sent seeing the damage and destruction." The Gods' clerk announced.
*Quarter? Will quarter be enough?*
*How much destruction?*
*Eliminating dinosaur level probably.*
Angels whispers grew louder and louder until the list of names that were to leave for Earth were written among the clouds.
~
Arizale looked at Earth. It looked different, the trees looked- strange like the ones kid draw when they are young. Half the population looked similar, scary but similar, dressed in colorful clothes, huge shoes and red-nose. A loud whirring noise made her stand up straight waiting for the fight to come but nothing except multiple cleaning devices, what did humans call them? Cleaners? Vacuum cleaners, yes, multiple vacuum cleaners were being used.
Arizale looked at the people, they looked weirded out, but not scared or fleeing for their lives. What sort of horrors were these? Clowns, she got but the rest of them- the weird trees, which when she looked closely those looked like broccoli. What in the-
*Who are the horrors based on?*
That was the constant question being raised among the angels because no one could believe their eyes.
*A kid.*
A weird silence followed by snorts of laughter.
Gods really did mess up this time didn't they? | 2021-12-27T11:18:19 | 2021-12-27T08:00:18 | 157 | 64 |
[WP] Your school digs up the time capsule from 100 years ago. Inside is a letter addressed to you. | I held the letter. Yup. That was my name. First and middle. Not last, though. Odd.
I stepped away from the rest of my class, clamoring around to see the oddities that where placed in the capsule. I had been just as excited as them, but now I was consumed with a different curiosity. I leaned against a tree as I began reading the letter.
*To my future daughter,*
*I don't know what your life is going to be. I don't even know if they'll allow you to keep the same name. But please know, please understand, that you are loved. Even now I'm not sure I will be able to let you go.*
*I want you to know that only reason I'm giving you up is because I can't give you the life you deserve. I'm in high school, single, and unemployed. I won't be able to give you a roof over your head, regular meals, or anything you're going to need. The agency has assured me that you'll be placed with a good family. A strong family. A loving couple who desperately want a child to love.*
*You may never forgive me. And that's okay. There's nothing wrong with thinking that way. But I hope that one day, when you're an adult, we'll be able to talk. I hope that your childhood is filled with love and laughter, and that you never have to wonder where your next meal is coming from, or if you're going to have a home when you get out of school. May your life be nothing like mine.*
I frown. One, I'm not adopted. And two, this time capsule is 100 years old. No way was this letter meant for me--but that was clearly my name on the envelope.
When I got home from school I showed my mom the letter. She got an odd, sad smile and sat with me on the couch. She took the letter from me and read it. "This is from your grandmother," she said softly. "My adoptive family tried to let me keep the name she gave me, but her parents--well, her parents were not good people. So my name had to be changed, and we moved away."
I thought about that. We'd lived in this town my whole life. "When did you come back?"
"After I graduated college. I came to see how my birth mother was doing. My parents never lied to me about being adopted, you see, and they'd told me that my birth mother had loved me very much and had wanted only the best for me."
I frowned. "But--I've never met your mother."
"No." Her voice was sad, quiet. "You haven't." | Hey doofus. Just a heads-up. You invented time travel. It's not as cool as it sounds.
Travelling back in time gives you massive diarrea. The further you travel back, the worse it gets! You should've seen that time you visited the dinosaurs, Woo-Wee! Oh right, you ARE going to see that. Might as well bring a couple of toilet rolls and clean underwear!
All kidding aside, you're going to do great, kid. Life has its ups and downs. It won't be easy but you'll hang in there! (I just KNOW you will, hehe.)
You'll get married to a beautiful wife, get kids, have your own lab, invent time travel... You won't be a too shabby polka dancer too! Well, you did learn from Anna Slezáková, the ORIGINAL polka mistress.
Just one last tip, always bring a towel (and some clean underwear!)
Cheers,
You | 2022-11-27T17:24:59 | 2022-11-27T11:14:45 | 156 | 110 |
[WP] As the sole adult on a colonizing ship of embryos, upon planetary arrival you set up the nursery, and program the educational bots with the colonies’ cultural objectives. Then you enter the sleep pod for a 50 years. Reawakening, you discover a typo you made created unusual culture developments. | Daughters and Sons
After the planetary wars, destruction of Earth and Mars, and the cultural collapse of the solar system’s network, the united colonies of the Oort Cloud sent out thousands of colonizing ships. Each ship was filled with versatile technologies, embryos for colonization, nanny bots to raise the children, and an adult technician in suspended hibernation to serve as a cultural guide and supervisor for the new worlds.
The ship’s AI was tasked with finding promising planets. Then the technician would awaken, survey the planet. If it was suitable, the medical bay craft of embryos and nanny bots would be deployed, and the technician would remotely program the nanny bots with the cultural objectives for the new society. The technician would then re-enter suspended animation for the next 50 Earth years, only awaking to check the fledgling colony, before moving on to the next habitable planet.
The recent planet was a desert world in a dual sun system. It was low on natural resources and heavy metals, had little wind and geothermal activity, and no oceans for tidal power. Still, its two suns would provide the power the colony required. If the civilization developed as predicted, it could support a large population, and power to the network of planets projected to form over the next millennium. It was a promising planet and be a nice addition to growing network of civilized worlds.
The technician deployed the medical bay craft, and remotely programmed in the directives for the colony—stressing the importance of the planet’s unique energy options. The technician then unfolded the ship’s solar charging sails, and directed the ship’s nano-bots to create the next medical craft for the next planet. The technician then entered the hibernation chamber for the next 50 year span, excited to see the thriving community that would be born, raised by the nanny bots, and grow over the next five decades.
Awakening, the technician was surprised and disappointed. The culture was violent and primitive. They had dismantled the medical bay craft, used their versatile technology for weapons, and they worshiped the inert nanny bots. Worse of all, a closer analysis of the community below showed them to be a patriarchal society that oppressed its female members.
The technician soon realized what happened. There was a typo in the cultural objectives. Seeking to direct the colony towards the solar power, the prime directive which should have read: channel the power of your suns, instead read: channel the power of your sons.
The technician grimaced in annoyance. Patriarchal power imbalances were the flaw that nearly destroyed humanity in the first place. This civilization below was tainted and would never be allowed to join the growing network of planets. In fact, it’s existence would be a threat to humanities’ expansion. Unfortunately, it would have to be destroyed.
The technician deployed the nukes, and turned away from the monitors and wept for what humanity was, and what it had lost. The tears on her cheeks shined like stars. | Last thing I did before going into the sleep pod marked X0324441 was writing the "cultural guidelines" - which I knew from the program training were greatly gonna affect the course of the next 50 years. We had recived a .txt file with 100 commandments that were "Not to deviate in any form or shape from the original file". We had recieved extensive training to memorize these 10 commandments in case of a corrupt file. I carefully read through the file to double check for any errors or something along those lines. I used the S key to scroll through the files 100 lines reading the lines as I go. I found myself reading the line "No hitting is allowed." over and over again. Why I dont know, I just got caught in a weird brainloop of sorts. I didnt think much of it before quickly scrolling using the S key again.
As I was about to close the file it said "Are you sure you want to exit without saving?" and per automation I pressed NO.
Now I awake to a society with weird tubes from their anus going up the back to a backpack. For I had accidently saved the 72rd commandment to "No shitting allowed"
"Oh shit" I thought to myself | 2021-03-20T13:50:08 | 2021-03-20T13:24:15 | 33 | 20 |
[WP] You accept a job paying $1 million a year to sit in a room, waiting for a phone to ring on a table. After 5 years at work, it finally rings... For the first time.
What happens next? | Five years ago I found myself between a rock and a hard place.
I had been working in an office doing menial tasks, everything from fetching and sorting mail to compiling spreadsheets for co-workers
higher up the always expanding bureaucratic chain of command.
This was slowly, but surely, driving me crazy.
I am usually the kind of person who thrives on doing something varied on a daily basis.
I've found that to be a very rare quality for a job to have as even the most dreamlike jobs seemingly become a daily routine.
As such, one settles for something that has some kind of apparent consequence for the workplace. My sorting of mail did some good, for sure, but it was all starting to feel way to much of a routine, so I was hoping for a change at work while actively looking for in other places.
Little did I know that my wish was about to come true.
I tried not to let it show, no one likes the whining "look-at-me-suffer" co-worker, but people pick up on that stuff. Or so I assume, because one day, tasked with getting lunch for everyonem, this guy from HR asks me to step in to his office for a quick chat.
My first thought was that I was about to get laid of because of my lack in appreciation and dedication, but no.
He simply stated that we had a new vacancy and asked me if I could be interested.
The job was simple. Too simple. I would sit in a room, alone, and keep an eye on a telephone. Nothing more, nothing less.
I was baffled and assumed that this was an attempt to get me to resign willingly, which I would have done had he not mentioned the pay.
$1 million a year. To sit and watch a telephone. It was important because the telephone was supposed to ring. A call was to be expected.
At this point I couldn't say no, could I? $1 million a year for doing nothing? It honestly felt quite similar to my tasks at the time, only with an astronomical bump in salary.
Sure, it was going to be really, really stiff and boring, but the money meant that I could do it for as long as I could stomach it and be on my merry way.
Without much hesitation I accepted the position.
I remember the first time I entered the room that was to become my office for the next five years.
The room had one window on the far side of the room, facing a yard between two builings, making it very dark and foreboding.
It was possible to make out the table in the middle of the room and some of the textures of the wallpaper but not much else.
On the table, connected to a socket by long cord, sat the telephone. It was this bricklike black thing with a reciever on the top of it and a finger wheel taking up most of the base of it.
A rotary phone, I later learned. Way out of it's time, like a stranger in a strange land - befitting considering how I felt.
I was given a worn out leather chair to sit in.
In the early days I didn't do much more than just sit there and stare at the phone. I was intrigued and, to be honest, quite apprehensive about the whole situation. It started to play tricks on the mind.
For the pay I was given there had to be something huge at stake, some kind of a game changer in the call that was about to come, why else would they pay me what they were paying me?
As time progressed and weeks turned in to months I started to take some liberties with the whole thing.
I acquired a couple of lamps to brighten the room, some decorative paintings and knickknacks to lively the place up.
When I changed that worn out leather chair to a new unused chesterfield sofa I started to feel quite content about the whole thing.
I was eventually allowed to be on my phone and surf, read and even game and watch movies if I wanted to. All in all, things weren't that bad after all. Slow, sure, but I knew it would be.
The only imperative was that I was to drop everything and answer the phone when the call came.
Months turned to years and all this lead up to today. I was finishing a novel I've been reading the last couple of days when it happened.
The phone rang. A shrill tone cutting through the silence, jolting me up from my position on the couch. My first instinct was to flee, to just run out and forget all about this.
But, I've answered phones before, this should be the same thing.
But it wouldn't. By this time this was a call worth $5 million. I'd been waiting for this moment for five years.
By now it had rung a couple of times so I braced myself and lifted the reciever.
I answered with a stammered hello, frightened of what the response might be. The silence was deafening and felt like it lasted for forever.
Suddenly, a disembodied voice rang out wishing me a fine day.
It followed up it's greet with a sincere tone that told me that I'd been doing a great job, and how pleasant it was to have people who understood the importance of subordination.
Then he or she or whomever it was hung up.
That was it. Five years. $5 million later. I couldn't process what had just happened. I'd been expecting some shattering revelation or some order to blow up or destroy the world.
Something like that. Not this.
I sat there exhausted and the door opened. The guy from HR, the same from five years ago, looking not a day older, came up to me and shook my hand.
He thanked me for my service and explained that my work was done.
Someone would soon come to take my place.
To fill the vacancy.
| "DRRRRIING!"
I just stared at the phone. It was vibrating furiously and the ringing was deafening.
"DRRRRIING!"
Five years I’d waited for this moment. Five years someone had waited for this moment. My mind when racing back in time. I was trying to figure out what I was supposed to do. The first few weeks I spent a lot of time planning for this call. In fact, I kind of believed it all to be a big scam. $1 million a year to wait for a phone to ring. Yeah right. So I memorised all this clever ways of answering the phone. I made up all this insane characters I was going to act out. Then a few months went by and the phone just sat there, as if it wasn’t connected to any kind of network. The least used phone in the world. At that point I was starting to take it seriously. It was a million a year, but I was being paid monthly, and I had been paid. When you’re being paid a month what you were lucky to earn in a couple of years before, no qualifiactions and all, to sit in a secluded room and do pretty much nothing, that’s when your mind starts taking shit real serious.
"DRRRRRIING!"
Couldn’t the damn phone just shut up. Then I could pretend that it’d never rung. I had a good thing going here. Fuck.
"DRRRRRIING!"
I knew answering the phone would change everything. I knew it wouldn’t be for the better. I knew that not answering the phone would have the same consequences. With a surpringly steady hand I reached over to the black brick in the centre of the table. I picked it up, turned it around, and with my thumb presse down on the button with the green phone on it. I slowly moved it up to my ear.
“He..Hello?”
There was a soft sound of static on the other end. I couldn’t hear anything else.
“Hello?” I said again, hoping it was a wrong number and I could go back to collecting a paycheck doing nothing.
“In front of you, there is a wall.”
I looked up, and yes, the wall I had been starring at for the last five years was there, right in front of me.
“Yes.”
“Good. Walk over to it.”
Even if I’d wanted to ask why or refuse the request, there was something about the voice that told me that I had no options. I rose from my chair and slowly walked over to the wall. I stopped right in front of it. It didn’t look much different from there than it had from my chair.
“Are you standing in front of it?”
“Yes.”
“Right in front of it?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Step through it.”
My head recoiled. I blinked a couple of times. The phone was still pressed firmly against my ear, but I was sure I couldn’t have heard the voice on the other end correctly. With hesistancy I confirmed his request.”
“Step…through it?”
“Yes.”
I wasn’t a physics major, so who was I to question this request? On the other hand I had 28 years of life experience. I knew that walls could not be stepped through. But that same feeling I’d had before came over me. This wasn’t a request I could ignore. I lifted my right leg, and slowly moved it towards to wall. It hovered for a few seconds right in front of it. I couldn’t do it. My leg wouldn’t move any further. I pulled it back again. All or nothing. Walking through a wall, ey? What was going to be on the other side? I didn’t know, but I had to commit. I backed up. With full force I ran towards the wall. I couldn’t stop know.
The impact was instant. The world was fuzzy. The worlds, because I could see three of everything. My ears were ringing. I felt something warm and wet trickle down my forehead and down the side of my face.
The phone dropped to the ground. I could hear the voices on the other hand. There was laughter. Hysterical laughter.
“Hahahahahha. Man, this is gonna make MILLIONS on YouTube!”
| 2017-12-17T01:09:43 | 2017-12-17T00:40:57 | 57 | 12 |
[WP] Eldritch horrors prowl through hyperspace. Interstellar convoys have to be protected by frigate captains like yourself. Hard choices must sometimes be made. | #####**Just a game of chess.**
___
"Goodness, you've always played a poor game." The old man across from me sits back in his chair and adjusts his bowtie. He wore a tailored suit and had a wild glint in his brilliant eyes. "Yet you come back for more every time. Bit of a sadist are you?"
I said nothing and looked at my position. It was a losing one, they always are. I move my knight to c3 and gesture for him to take his turn.
"Terrible move." He shakes his head and smiles. His black bishop takes a pawn. I immediately take the bishop with my knight in turn. Somewhere, a light turns off and another screams.
He looks up from the board and motions at the pieces on the side, "I'll give you a handicap this time. Pick one and return it to the board, any piece you like."
I knew better than to accept his proposal and said nothing, shaking my head to decline the offer.
"Boorish man." His bishop eats another pawn. He picks up one of the black pieces on the side and places it back on the board.
I open my mouth to protest, but stop myself in time. I wring my hands, knowing what I must do, but hesitate. Eventually, I pick up the king and perform a queen side castle.
"A castle? Little selfish, don't you think? I thought you had a little more decency than that." He unshackles a horse and has it leap over my pawn wall.
Seizing the opening, I push my rook forward and take a black pawn. The lid of the box closes, trapping the greasy darkness.
"Be careful with that, could cost you more than its worth." His bishop move onto my knight, which fights gallantly. It is swallowed in the end and blood trickles onto the board. I offer a silent prayer.
Having accomplished my task, I gingerly knock over my queen, look up and nod. His swirling blue eyes draw me in like a kaleidoscope. It takes everything I have to stop myself from falling in.
He sighs and leans back. "Very well, do come back for another game some time. My bishops get rather peckish." He grins, "I like this queen. Delectable."
&nbsp;
I woke from the dream and gestured for the Chief Security Officer to come over.
Seeing that I was lucid, he lifted the lockdown on bridge and walked over. He didn't want to ask, but he needed to know. It was part of his duties. "...How much was the toll, Captain?"
"Two animals, a queen," I paused. "...And one of the mercenaries we hired. We captured just enough fuel to reach Alpha Centauri in exchange. It'll be in sleeping quarters with Jacobs. Have him scanned for erosion."
He grimaced, but said nothing more and left to collect the fuel.
As he exited the room, I cried but did not know why for I could no longer remember.
&nbsp;
___
A/N - I like this one. The premise is exquisite.
/r/Unexpected_Works | It's necessary. It's cruel, harsh, inhuman perhaps, but it's *always*. *Necessary*.
Humanity has spread its wings far and wide, conquering worlds untold through the Hyperspace. We never thought we'd even reach these places, let alone settle them, but it all changed when we found out exactly how to traverse the hyperspace without blowing up or stretching ourselves to the width of an atom.
Not that it doesn't have a cost.
The earth was full, bursting at the seams, resources all but depleted. We had to do something. We knew what settling outside of Sol would cost, but we had no choice. *We had no choice*... I'm certain we didn't...
There're things out there, in the hyperspace, lurking in the shadows, in-between realities where nightmares meet the waking world, teeth gnashed, chattering, snickering in the dark, eyes curious and hungry, malevolent and playful. Things that don't agree with us blazing past them. Solutions had to be found. Contingencies prepared. Rituals perfected. It was *necessary*.
I keep repeating that to myself as I stand above the current Shield-Errant. They look a bit scared but prepared. They know that the supplies our vessel carries are vital to the survival of the colony we are headed to. They know, as I start carving, that this is necessary.
Sacrifices must be made. | 2022-08-23T16:59:52 | 2022-08-23T15:08:48 | 33 | 21 |
[WP] The collective efforts of the galactic empires had held true for so long. Untold sacrifices were made to hold the forbidden planet at bay. The barrier is breaking down and no one can stop it. Now the planet designated ‘UUA-663’ will discover everyone else. Now ‘Earth’ will know it is not alone. | It was coming down. All of it.
The fleets stood ready.
The captian balled it's tail and bristled. It hummed it's agitation, a background sound the bridge crew echoed in eery harmony.
They held still in their tension.
So many worlds had sent ships. It was a fleet as had not been gathered in generations of memory.
UUA-663.
The ships were all on the very edge. This could end them all.
The communications were silent. Prayers had been given before they left.
The barrier flickered.
It had stood for so long. Been repaired so many times. It had cost so much.
A whole solar system encased in a field.
The ships surrounding it were not in visual contact; they had other forms of contact but even together they couldn't so closely surround the feild.
It made the captian nervous.
A burst came over communications. It was coming. The extinction burst of the field. Be ready.
And then they saw it. A sheen that crossed such vastness it encompassed near all they could see.
And then it was gone.
They were exposed.
The silence stretched on. They waited. Waited to see which ship would cry for help.
Nothing happened.
Time stretched on, and they listened. Nothing.
And then..sound. garbled. Tiny.
They saw it. A small robot? a drone? The captian nearly ordered it fired upon, but it could not possibly be armed. It didn't have the power for it.
It ordered the probe scooped.
It was such a strange thing. Absurdly, laughably primitive. Basic alloys no space faring race had used in some million years.
It possessed a long scaffold and a simple dish. Such primitive communications.
There was no one on board trained in physics, but the engineer thought it was probably radio.
No one knew what to make of it.
And then they found the golden disk.
What they found within sent the galaxy reeling.
Theyre gone, the captain announced over communication.
The great reptilians are gone.
Whatever these things were, they were not the reptillians.
Whatever is there now, they're gone. It's over.
It played the message to a relieved Galaxy.
And waited for orders. | Earth, the third planet from the Sol. For eons the GE knew not what to do after observing the inhabitants of the planet, researching data streaming logs, going over what history we could, and so on and so forth. Finally it was decided the planet would be sanctioned off with a barrier around the neighboring systems so they would not far in their endeavors for space travel.
For so long the barriers stood, with minor fluctuations every millennia. We thought nothing of it, but by The All-Mother, I wish my ancestors had not.
Now we of the Galactic Empires stand ready to receive the humans as they spite our ancestors efforts to keep them in their prison.
If all goes according to plan neither side will lose lives. | 2020-11-12T20:37:36 | 2020-11-12T19:22:48 | 112 | 28 |
[WP] You applied for a job at google, everything goes well and only one interview remains: They'd just like an explanation for your search history. | "My search history?!"
"Yes Mr. Thorman. It's part of our interview process at this stage. Standard question, really."
"Oh. Standard. Completely normal."
"Yes."
"So, anyone can just, pop that question on me? That's normal, is that what you're telling me?"
"Mr. Thorman, it's a standard question for our *interview process.* Your confidentiality is assured, we just want an explanation for your search history."
"Well, that's part of the problem."
"Explain Mr. Thorman."
"I'd get it if Google would ask about my browsing habits while using their service. *That* seems standard. But, an explanation... sounds like an accusatory thing to ask someone, let alone personal. Hardly a standard question."
"We understand your concerns Mr. Thorman, but---"
"You understand?! Because you saw my browsing history!"
"There really isn't any need to---"
"*You don't deny it!!*"
"Mr. Thorman, please try to calm---"
"I'll sue! It's discrimination! You're using personal questions in an interview! That should definitely breach some labor law!"
"Which, Mr. Thorman?"
"**I'm about to find out!**"
"Look, we flew you out here for this hiring stage to see if you'd be a good fit for the company. Google takes pride in having a relaxed working environment, but to maintain that while bringing in new talent requires a special 'fit,' see?"
"Yeah, but that doesn't explain why you'd ask such a probing question."
"We ask about your search history to gauge your response to situations in the work place that may challenge you in a professional setting, whether they're conferences as a traveling consultant, or receiving the random question from an employee that could risk testing that relaxed environment."
"Oh."
"The nature of the question was known from the beginning. It was all part of the interview. Your response was... extreme, but rational in light of the given circumstances. We'll account for that when making our decision in about two weeks time."
"I see."
"So we're understood then."
"Yes sir. I apologize for making such a fuss."
"It's alright Mr. Thorman. We account for these things from people with your kind of browsing history."
"Can't believe it was part of the... **what?**"
"Well you went from looking up cheap remedies for your flatulence to searching for fart porn at least twice a day for the past two months. Without missing a day. So we can understand that you're prone to frustration."
"Jesus, now you look here---"
"Remember you're being interviewed."
"*Exactly!* Why would you even say that?! It's not just unprofessional, it's *sickening*!"
"You're giving us a lecture about what's sickening?"
"Right! It's a breach on my internet privacy and---"
"Don't kid yourself Mr. Thorman. We *both* know it only started with the fart porn."
"... What started?"
"The sex dungeon room you've been adding equipment to for the last couple weeks. We're honestly pretty impressed with how---"
"*We?!*"
"Yes Mr. Thorman, you gave our HR department a good laugh about that. To think a quiet Nebraskan man such as yourself would be so kinky. And to think it all started with a gas problem---"
"Oh my god, this is becoming too much! Why even fly me out here if you're just going to sit there and embarrass me?!"
"Because we want to hire you and see how you handle yourself. Qualifications ^and ^sexual ^taste aside, you seem like a good fit for our relaxed working environment. An in-person interview gives us the opportunity to see if you'd fit. We'll contact you in two weeks time. Do you have any follow up questions for us?"
"Too many to even count. I just want to go home and---"
"Continue working on your dungeon room?"
"*No!* Have a cool beer and catch up on Game of Thrones!"
"I see. Mr. Thorman. Would you like to know how it ends?"
"The season?"
"No. All of it."
"... You wouldn't."
"We've seen George R.R. Martin's search history. Kind of killed the rest of the show for us here at Google."
"Oh my god."
"Thank you for coming out today. We'll be in touch."
------
*More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!* | “So Mr. Anderson, thanks for your patience. My name is Smith and I’m in charge of security around here."
“Nice to meet you”, Thomas said while Mr. Smith sat down at the other side of the table. Thomas only wondered briefly about Mr. Smith’s sunglasses and his very, very black suit.
“As you know this is your final interview and we’d like to discuss one topic with you: Your search history.”
Thomas hesitated for a second, then responded: “Ehm.. okay.. I guess we can do that. What would you like to know?”.
“Well, frankly your search history has changed a bit over those last weeks, hasn’t it Mr. Anderson?” He opened a folder lying in front of him on the desk.
*May 15th. At 2:03am you searched for “Morpheus reported sightings*”
*May 17th. 3:52am. “Morpheus organization contact*”
*May 21st. 23:51pm. “How to make mac and cheese in the microwave fast”*
*May 24th. 1:15am. “Is this real life?”*
*May 27th. 2:15am. “Dream world computer generated”*
*May 29th. 1:46am. "Google artificial intelligence development"*
*May 31st. 3:46am. “Artificial intelligence robots”*
*And just this morning, June 3rd. 1:39am. “What is the matrix?*”*
He looked at Thomas, making eye contact. “Mr. Anderson, what do you think is the matrix then?”
Without Thomas noticing, the door behind him had opened and two men stepped inside the room.
“Well… I don’t really… eh I don’t really know what it is I guess..”, Thomas began to stutter and started to sweat. His head spinning at the confusing questions and facts presented to him by Smith.
Smith stared at him with a grin on his face, his eyes still hidden behind his sunglasses. He then turned to the two man standing beside Thomas and briefly nodded at them.
All of sudden, the two man reached for Thomas and grabbed his arms, pushing him down, face first, on the table in front of him.
“Mr. Anderson, we both know that you have started to ask the wrong questions. And now I only have one question for you. Do you want to know what the matrix is?
Almost out of breath from the two men pushing him on the table, Thomas managed to barely say “Yes… I want to know what it is.”
“Very well. But I can assure you, you’re not going to like what comes next …”
Thomas started to feel a rush on his cheeks and his lips. Something happened to his mouth. He tried opening it, but there appeared to be something that prevented him to open and control his mouth. He wanted to scream, but he could only manage a inaudible mumble. Then, the two men put the mask on his head and everything turned black... | 2016-06-03T06:33:25 | 2016-06-03T04:54:11 | 79 | 43 |
[WP] Humans are unique among all space faring creatures, they can interbreed successfully with any sentient lifeform. You run the station daycare. | Astra 4 wasn’t like most space stations. It had a thriving human population, and they had integrated well with the other spacefaring races that made the big mining station home.
It was a rough time on the station. There was a general strike on due to the inhospitable conditions of the work, and the poor pay. Astra 4 produced some of the most coveted minerals in the galaxy, but historically the miners had been paid very little.
It was just another Tuesday on Astra 4 when a couple came in with a small levitating buggy. If the Elusian parents were any indicator, the child was probably Elusian as well.
“We were told you carry a certificate in Elusian care?” The tall pale, hairless, biped asked. He spoke in galactic common, and from the accent had come straight from deep Imperial Elusian space.
“Yes sir. Are you the Elusian Ambassador?” I replied in my best Galactic common, but I was pretty sure this was going to be an issue.
“Yes. How did a human come to have an Elusian care certificate?” he asked.
“That’s a very good question, but you see, human-run care facilities often have the highest number of certificates in the galaxy,” I started to explain.
I thought I might get this out of the way quickly, and asked, “I can show you the reason why, and help you decided if this is the right facility for you.” I motioned towards the door, and I buzzed it open.
“Yes, but that does not explain how you have a certificate,” he continued, but ushered his partner and the buggy through the door.
“It all comes down to a small but significant human ability. We have turned out to be very genetically fluid. In our history, we had a problem with fertility after a viral outbreak. It was so severe our race was very close to extinction. Then we had a scientific breakthrough.”
I walked the couple into the corridor to the large windows that looked into the toddler area, “We genetically altered ourselves in such a way that we were extremely capable of having children. It worked for us, and we didn’t think much of it until several thousands of years later when we happened on the galactic scene and started running into other species.”
As I paused in front of the window, I waited. However, this couple either hadn’t noticed or didn’t know what they were looking at, so I continued to explain, “That ‘miner’ genetic manipulation to get us past our own near extinction also allows us to procreate with almost all other galactic species. There is the odd exception, but as a general rule we can have children with anyone. Combine that with our rather gregarious nature, and you have the need for a large number of certificates for care for different species.”
I then let the moment hang.
I saw the smaller partner lean forward to the glass, and the waving tendrils that passed for hair in her species stood up in surprise.
“Are those human hybrids?” She asked in alarm.
“Well, it depends on what you call a hybrid. A hybrid implies someone bred those children to be that way, and that’s not exactly a term we like. Those are children that are from human/non-human pairings,” I explained. My face a polite mask of smiles.
“It might be contagious!” she said to her partner in alarm.
Aaaaand there it was. I had been waiting for it.
“No. You cannot be part human unless one of your genetically contributory parents are. The myths are lies and misinformation. These children are not unusual for Astra 4, or some of the other more isolated stations like this,” I explained.
“Why would anyone procreate with a human,” she said in disgust. “Your race hasn’t been able to do much more than work in the most dangerous menial positions. If you had anything to contribute, we’d have seen it by now. I mean really, what has your race really contributed? ”
I ignored the slight. I’d heard them all before. I continued, “I am assuming that you were sent by the Elusian delegation on behalf of the new union demands?”
The larger male tore his gaze from the glass, and looked at me directly, “How would you know about that?”
“Oh, Astra 4 is a pretty small station, and your government’s reaction to the Fortis 5 mining colony is not a secret around these parts. I’m not a miner, but my husband is in charge of the large processing equipment. We have family on Fortis 5, and you did manage to divide the miners up into separate groups based on species and they lost their bid for better conditions,” I answered. My smile slipped slightly but I figured they were not familiar enough with humans to be able to tell.
Neither of them looked comfortable, so I pressed on, “Regardless of your politics, I have the only certificate for Elusian on the station. There aren’t too many Elusians that take this kind of work, so unless you have a reason for it, nobody else has bothered to get a certificate here.”
“Can you even guarantee the safety of our child?” He asked, his tendril hair waving in alarm.
“I have personally cared for three Elusian children until near adulthood here on the station, and they seem pretty healthy,” I explained.
“So your husband is working on the processing equipment?” the male Elusian said as he realized what I had claimed, with concern.
“Yes. He’s graduated from the Althevia Institute and decided he’d rather come out here into space than apply it to his own world,” I said with the same smile I’d had plastered on my face.
“Your husband graduated from the Althevia Institute? I doubt any human has ever attended, let alone graduated,” the woman sneered.
“I think we’ve seen enough,” she said, her hair slicking to her head suddenly. “I don’t feel safe leaving our child here, and I’d have to verify this humans’ certificates. I doubt them. No Elusian would be out here without a reason, and she’s obviously not telling the truth about her husband.”
“Suit yourselves,” I said, with more of a real smile this time. Not taking on this child, and these parents would make my life much easier.
I guided them out and stepped out of the door with them.
Then three Elusian young adults were walking up the large hall, with a buggy of their own.
“If that’s all you needed? I’m sorry you don’t feel safe, but if you change your minds, I will be here,” I said as I started to step towards the teenagers.
“Here’s baby Henry, Dad says he’s going to be late because he has to meet personally with the ambassador. Something about Elusian tradition. We are heading to Aunt Sarah’s. The human quarter is a better place to be tonight! You should come down after work. Sarah says she has your dress mended,” the tallest said. She eyed the newcomers, her own tentacle hair dancing in suspicion.
I reached down and picked up the baby from the buggy, “Did your father say if I should keep dinner on?” I smiled down at my son. His pale white skin was the spitting image of his Elusian father’s complexion. His own tentacle hair as black as my own human hair, and his eyes as human as my own.
“Nope. He says duty calls,” my oldest stepdaughter said.
“Okay but be careful. Everyone is riled up, and no visiting that boy when you are down in the human quarter, got that?” I say, but I’m smiling through the admonishment.
I put my son on my hip and turn to smile at the Elusian couple and just watch them. I can see their tentacles writhe in disgust as they make the connection.
I stand and watch as my stepchildren head back onto the walkway, before turning to the woman that had spoken so poorly of my race.
“Family. We bring family and some measure of unity to the corners of the galaxy we inhabit,” I said, answering the Elusian woman’s question. Unspoken was my confidence that at least on Astra 4, family meant we were not going to be divided in the union talks. | I ducked down the corridor, narrowly avoiding being incinerated by the sheet of green and orange flame burning everything in its path. I sighed, shook my head and called out.
"Nivia? Nivia. Stop with the flames."
I peeked around the corner, seeing Nivia, a four-year old humanoid-esque girl with short, scaly dragon wings, a dragon tail and flame red eyes looking at me with an annoyed, yet cute scowl.
"He. Took. My. Teddy." She said.
"And you can have it back just as soon as you stop trying to incinerate, well, everything," I said patiently.
"I want teddy now," she yelled, her eyes flaring.
I ducked back around the corner as the next sheet of flame fired by.
"Crap," I said quietly to myself. Why didn't I get better grades and a proper job, I wondered, as the acrid smell of burnt carpet wafted by. At times like this I was glad for the station's ability to withstand just about everything including tantrums from humadragon mixes.
For a moment, I idly wondered how the father managed to avoid being burnt to a crisp at the crucial moment. But then again, the nursery was full of offspring from the most unlikely couplings. The one that always got me was how little Timmy's father had managed to get it on with an acidic, gelatinous lifeform which burned through anything it touched. I mean, that lifeform can melt solid steel in nanoseconds so how did he? I mean, really, just how did he? Where there's a will there's a way and all that but surely no-one's that horny. Mind you, Little Timmy was proof that maybe some guys just are.
Another flash of flame jolted me back to the present.
"Timmy, give Nivia back her teddy," I yelled, pulling open my locker and looking for my flameproof suit. "And Nivia, stop burning everything down."
I pulled the visor down on my helmet and stepped out right into the anti-gravity stream being emitted by Monty. He always anti-gravved in his pants when he was scared and let's face it, a humadragon in full tantrum mode would be pretty scary for a platoon of space marines, let alone a 4 year old humagrav.
"Crap," I said again as I bounced off the padded ceiling and walls with the collection of half-human, half-alien infants, their toys, the furniture and the collection of beverages laid out on the table. I was going to feel this in the morning.
I landed on something soft and squishy and for a short while, everything went black, then slowly phased back in. As I shook my head to try to clear it, the room seemed to spin, pretty lights flashed around my vision and bells rang. I groaned as I tried to move my battered body, my ears hurt as the air filled with the high pitched cries of screaming, scared younglings and suddenly, I realised I was somehow clutching a little dragon teddy. Ignoring the pain, I stretched out and tossed it over to Nivia who wrapped it up in her little arms and gave it a big squeeze.
"Bibby," she said.
"Bibby," I replied, hoping my concussion wasn't too severe.
I gradually lifted myself to my feet, wondering how to sort out this mess. Where to start? Well, at least I wasn't having to deal with a petulant humadragon. And then I heard the most frightening words in the English language.
"Where. Is. Booboo?"
Forgetting the pain and bruising, I launched myself towards the exit door, moving as fast as humanly possible.
"I want Booooboooooooo!!!!!" came the yell. Well, technically, it wasn't a yell, more a telepathic icepick to the brain reaching into the deepest corners of my mind.
"I can make it, I can make it, I can make it," I said to myself, more out of hope than anything else.
I scrambled hard, my hand on the handle, pulling it down, the door opening as if in slow motion, my eyes widening and then felt a tentacle wrap itself around my ankle. I swallowed hard, bracing myself for impact.
"Booooobooooo!!!!!!" came the telepathic yell. As a former space marine, I'd faced a lot, fighting the Scripiod on the moons of Terranus, the million man battles of the Outer Reaches and most terrifyingly, my ex-wife's divorce lawyer but a 3 year old humamindocto was, well, way above my paygrade. And probably above the capabilities of the average, missile regiment. I braced myself for a half-eternity of pain and suffering.
"Bobby, what are you doing?" came a voice in my head. "I told you never to do that to other beings."
"Mommy," said Bobby. "I want Booboo."
"And you shall have Booboo," replied Bobby's mum. "But let them all go."
Quietly, I started crawling towards the door again.
"Now Bobby, you musn't do that," said Bobby's mother standing in the doorway. "You understand?"
"But my Booboo," replied Bobby.
"Here he is," said his mother. "But you must never, ever do this. You understand?"
"Yes mommy," replied Bobby.
"Now what do you said to the scared human who's just peed himself and all your friends?" asked Bobby's mum.
"I'm sorry," said Bobby.
"Very good," replied his mum. "Now let's go, we have to go see your grandparents. They've just spaced in and are waiting for you. You OK?" The last two words were thrown in my direction.
I nodded weakly from my crawling position, looking up at the constantly, shape-shifting, multidimensional, tentacled creature in front of me. Again, I couldn't help but wonder just how...
"Good," said his mum. "And with great difficulty. Think he's still trapped in the eternity of agony that is the fifteenth dimension. Bit sad for little Bobby to grow up without a dad but you know how it is."
I nodded. I was alive. Which was a good day in the nursery. And a reminder never, ever to get too drunk and wake up with, well, I'm sober. Always. And time to work on getting better grades and a better job. Like anything at all... | 2020-08-10T13:10:09 | 2020-08-10T12:15:54 | 78 | 53 |
[WP] It's been 50 years since the rich elites left to escape an alien invasion. The good news: the aliens are friendly. The bad news: nobody wants them back. | “On behalf of those you left behind for dead, on behalf of the two civilizations who now live harmoniously on planet earth, we say this; Do Not Return.”
On those last three words, the man lifted his gaze from the page of his written speech, pressing his glasses up the ridge of his nose with a finger as he focused his eyes on the camera. He maintained this state as he continued, giving Galel the feeling he was being directly addressed every time he rewatched the video,
“You who live aboard the eighth wonder of our world, who tried to rob us of our greatest minds and assets before fleeing in cowardice from what you believed to be certain doom. Know that you were wrong. Know that we thrive, and will continue to do so without you.”
“The atrocities of all those who boarded the Worldbridge will not be forgotten. We will remember you as an example of the cruelty humankind were once capable of, but no longer. Our new companions from outer space came in peace and shared their knowledge, revealing things we may not have discovered ourselves for millennia to come. The world has laid down their weapons in unison, but few will remain active lest you ever dare to approach. This is your one and only warning; Do Not Return.”
Galel shuddered and paused the video, glancing out of the porthole window beside him. The billions of stars in the distance appeared still and unmoving. The steady hum of the small crafts engines were the only thing that could assure him he was actually moving towards the destination he had set. The commlink was active, but still had yet to pick up anything, not even a flicker of sound.
“Again?” A voice tiredly groaned behind him. Galel glances back to see that Jorr had started to wake up, stretching his arms and leaning up from his reclined seat. It was dark within the craft, the only light being cast from the paused video on the screen behind Galel, casting his shadow over his friend.
“What good is that doing you, besides making you second guess this whole thing?”
“I am NEVER going back there.” Galel answered immediately, having raised his voice slightly more than he meant to, be softened his tone as he went on, “I just... can’t believe they had been lying about this the whole time.”
“Makes sense,” Jorr said with a shrug, “they didn’t want to seem like the bad guys, so they say earth was destroyed. The worldbridge is self sustaining, so it’s not like they had any use going back.”
Galel scoffed, “I’m more hung up on the bit about them leaving everyone behind like that. Taking off before the aliens even made a move.” He reached for a closed folder on the counter space just in front of him and tossed it into Jorrs lap, “you should read about how many people they killed just in attempting to keep the project a secret.”
Jorr leaned back in his seat, before bringing it back up to a seated position, pressing a button on his armrest to activate the dimmest setting of his overhead light. He flipped the folder open and continued to read where he had last left off.
“Damn.”
“What do you think the odds are of getting shot down upon arrival?” Galel asked, and it was obviously the biggest lingering question that was on his mind ever since they had found the video. Jorr could see it on his face.
“Slim...” Jorr reasoned, “I can’t imagine they would shoot us down when we are generations after the people who actually left. We were born on that station, and we are the only people to have escaped alive.” After a short pause, he added, “but there’s only really one way to find out.” | My father would always tell me stories of when he was a kid. Life was so different back then that it's hard to believe everything he said. The most fantastical thing he ever told me was about a group of people called "elites" and what happened when they left Earth.
Apparently these elites stood high above everyone else and looked down upon the world. They had the resources to help thousands, but horded it to themselves while many suffered. No one liked them, but they controlled the world and there was nothing anybody could do about it.
But one day, an unidentified threat was noticed approaching Earth from who knows where. My father said it was as if the world was ending. The chaos was tearing society apart and people turned to the elites in desperation. But instead of using their power and influence to address the panic and pandemonium, the elites pooled together their vast resources to devise an escape from the situation. They sucked as much lifeblood and resources from the planet as they could in order to sustain themselves and left behind a chaotic husk that was once their home.
Things hit their lowest when the gravan ships cast a shadow upon the lands. It is really hard to believe now a days, but apparently no one trusted the grava when they first arrived. My father even said my grandparents and he refused to take any food from them thinking it was poisoned. Eventually things settled down and its been nothing but peace and prosperity from then on.
However, last month our scanners picked up an unidentified vessel on its path towards earth. This would normally be no reason for alarm, in my 10 years with the GEDF (Grava-Earth Defense Force) I could not count how many well-meaning travelers just don't go through the proper channels, but this time's different. The vessel's origin has been confirmed as earth and its estimated departure date coincides with when the elites abandoned this planet 50 years ago.
Most don't want the elites to return, but an agreement has yet to be reached. So for the next 5 years until their vessel arrives, our worlds will probably be wrapped up in this political conflict. Hopefully peace will return afterwards. | 2020-08-02T09:05:24 | 2020-08-02T04:21:49 | 1,733 | 1,000 |
[WP] At the Age of Ten, some special individuals, are granted special powers by the Ancient Greek Gods. As the Clock strikes twelve on your Birthday, Heavenly Light strikes you. You have been Chosen. Unfortunately, it's by Aristaois:The God of Beekeeping and Cheese. | It was the night of my tenth birthday, and like every child, I sat, alone in my room, staring at the moon as hung in the sky, eyes bright and hopeful.
Despite my parents warnings and counsels, I was convinced that I would be chosen as an emissary to the Gods. "Antonia," my father said to me that night as he led me to my room, "Try not to get your hopes up, my little one. The Gods rarely give their gifts to such as poor as us, even when they deem mortals worthy of their powers at all." I remember still the soft, yet firm way he patted my cheek as he turned to leave my room. "It's not so bad, my sweet child, being a field worker's daughter, you know," he laughed as he called over his shoulder. "At least you know that mother Gaea cares for us!"
Still, I waited, and I watched, eyes glancing from place to place, hoping to see some sign of divine recognition. Was that wave on the shore shining a little more brightly, a sign from Poseidon's favor? Or perhaps those clouds, which hung a little thicker than normal over the mountains, the gathering of Zeus' might?
I was so preoccupied watching the heavens, the waves, and the earth, that I don't remember noticing the little bee that landed on my windowsill until it brushed my arm. While I'm not sure what I said, I know I smiled at the tiny insect. I had always loved bees, their round little bodies and buzzing noises happy companions as I worked the loom with my sisters. They always seemed so lively and energetic, their songs keeping them going as they flew from flower to flower. I was so distracted by my little bee friend that I nearly fell out the window as an old and warm voice spoke up behind me. "Truly one of my best creations, the bee, am I correct, my child?"
As I recovered from my shock, I turned around slowly, afraid to see the stranger who had snuck into my room. There before me stood a smaller man, completely ordinary, save for his portly belly and soft glow that radiated off him like a metal in a fire. "Antonia," he spoke, his voice soft yet echoing, "I am so glad to see that you waited up for me to come."
With some degree of stuttering in my voice, I quickly dropped to my knees and asked which god I was addressing. I remembered the priestesses speaking of the gods coming to men in strange guises to prove them, so I dared not make any assumptions. "Ah, my dearest daughter," the man said, softly chuckling. "Do you not already know? It is I, Aristaois."
Being a ten year old, I could not help, even in the circumstances, to raise and eyebrow. “Aristaois?” I asked. “The God of Bees?”
"Yes, child, the God of bees. Father of honey, cheese, olive and shepherd. I have come, little Antonia, to claim you as my own, and to bequeath to you my powers and blessings. Take them, and thrive under my eye."
And without another word, he had vanished.
I looked at myself, trying to see if I felt any different. No surge of energy. No awesome new powers. I couldn't even make cheese appear! I remember so well then the tears. I had been visited by a god, and he had decided to play a joke on me.
It was not till many years later that I truly appreciated the powers that were given me. As I grew, I found that the bees seemed to always produce more honey on the days I visited the beekeeper's fields. The goats produced more milk when I would fill the jugs in the morning. When I came of age, my betrothed managed to find a wild herd that seemed to wander straight into our arms. Again and again, Aristaois's gift quietly found me in a better place than before.
And with it all, the sweet song of bees, humming gently in the distance.
&#x200B;
This is my first time writing for a prompt, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated!
Edit: grammar | I awoke to a bright light shining into my eyes and a deafening humming sound. My room was lit by a beam of sunlight streaming in through the window, even though it was midnight. In the light, a dark cloud spun and condensed into a solid form. An old man, wearing a black and gold suit, complete with vest and a bowler hat, stood in the center of my bedroom. He smiled and tipped his hat to me.
"Mortal! A most excellent birthday you." I sat up in bed, starting to grin. My best friend had been visited on his birthday by Ares and since then he'd been stronger than a bull. He'd beaten up a bully that tried to pick on us and stole his wallet. Now it was my turn to get powers from the gods.
But I didn't recognize this god. I'd seen depictions of most of them, and he looked different from them all. I got out of bed and bowed to him. "Forgive me, honored immortal, but I do not recognize your form." The old man smirked. "It's to be expected, I've been away from this realm for over an era." He struck a pose, made all the more dramatic by still standing in the light. "You see before you Aristaois, the most excellent god of shepherds, cheesemaking, beekeeping, and the Etesian winds."
I looked up at him, confused. "I'm sorry, who?" Aristaois laughed. "Then I was right! The world is in desperate need of my return." He walked up to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Fret not, mortal. You shall become my herald, carrying my name for my return." I felt a warmth spreading through my shoulder. "Receive my blessing" he murmured "and my realm shall be at your command."
The warmth spread across my body, and I could see faint golden lights spiraling off from my fingers. "Your realm?" I asked. Aristaois turned, waving dismissively over his shoulder. "Guide the flock for me, herald. I'll return soon. I have other matters to attend to first. My seat in the pantheon has been taken." With that, he dissolved into the light, and the room was shrouded in darkness again.
I glanced around, trying to convince myself it was a dream, but the warmth still spread across my body. He'd said his realm was beekeeping and cheese right? I grinned as I climbed back into bed. I'd always liked bees. | 2020-11-14T20:14:57 | 2020-11-14T19:53:55 | 123 | 32 |
[WP] An alien super-intelligence routinely teleports a random creature from every inhabited planet's most dangerous species into a massive battle royale. Humans are known as a weak species with strange but useless textiles and objects. This year, a battle-ready soldier is chosen. | The human soldier had been fighting without rest for three days.
The enemies attacks had claimed the use of his right arm and maimed half his body, but still he fought on.
As he closed his eyes during an all too frequent lull in the fighting and prayed death didn’t claim him, what was probably the last thing he could have expected to happen.... happened.
He found himself in an arena, surrounded by cheering crowds and strange horrors the likes of which even his darkest nightmares could not have dreamed up, as a voice in his head bellowed, to the great pleasure of the crowd, that the “Great Battle Royale” was about to begin.
Meanwhile above him, the organisers of the fight noticed something was off, the human was already injured, grevioiesly so, and covered in both his own and other humans blood, a handicap like this would break the spirit of the tournament so they started to make moves to send him back to Earth before the superior species of the Galaxy got to him.
Right before they could however, it was their turn to face the unexpected, dropping to one knee the human braced his primitive, crude, but brutal rifle on his maimed arm and fired a single shot at the nearest foe, a Dog Warriors of Zargon Prime, one of the favourites for the tournament, and to their shock the large, heavy and archaic bullet from his gun passed without trouble through the Warriors shields and shattered the ceramic face plate, both of which were designed to provide maximum survivability against plasma weaponry, killing it instantly.
He then did this nine more times, cycling the bolt with one hand while maintaining his aim and focus, wiping out most of his rivals in a hail of precision rifle fire, until all that were left was he and the Multi Armed Horror of the Terror Vortex, a creature rebound for its agility and fierce intelligence.
In response, the human threw a rock, a strange metal rock the Horror caught with frightening ease, bribing close to its face to examine as it laughed at the pitiful attack, not noticing that the human has already dived for cover right before the grenade exploded, turning it from biology into physics.
This primitive, crippled human defeating the greatest killers in the galaxy angered the organisers, so they sent their trump card against him, the previous champion, a being of pure combat and the upmost honour, a Royal Guard from the Vox Regime. But once again, things did not go their way, as the Guard entered the arena the human threw down his now empty rifle and drew an inward curving blade, pointing it at the new challenger before bellowing in what the local translation fields interpreted as “COME AND FIGHT A GURKAH!” at their champion who, to the organisers horror, obliged by stripping off his armour and abandoning all weapons save a single blade of his own, to make it a fair fight.
He did not last 10 seconds in a fair fight, the human taking his head with shocking ease. Fearing what letting such a deadly fighting stick around would do, especially one from a species considered to barely be worth including due to their supposed weakness, the organisers hurriedly teleported him back to his trench on Earth, just in time for Lachhiman Gurung to see British reinforcements approaching to drive off the last Japanese attack....
Putting his experiences in the alien arena down to an injury and fatigued induced fever dream, the one armed Gurkha would never know he saved many other humans the horror of being abducted to be slaughtered for sport... | I receive the confirmation that we got all the 150 species and we transfer them to the planet Terranavi. I’m the chief engineer of this planet and we needed such a planet to host this sort of event. We collect different species from different planets and putting them on a piece of rock that only habitable for some of them is not the way. We can change the weather patterns and we can control the oxygen and nitrogen levels along with other elements on the air to create a competitive fighting arena. Although, there are things that we can not control and some of the creatures react oddly to the environment and if they are not lucky enough to survive the conditions of this gorgeous planet and then they are not worthy of giving attention and they are usually a handful.
This time we have 136 survivors out of 150. The last time we start the battle with only 120 and the rest of them died quickly to Juronna which is one of the dangerous species in this galaxy. If you are lucky enough to see and hear Juronna you might be able to live longer than five seconds. It can manipulate the shape of its own body and move faster than any creature and every time we have a live Juronna on this event the winner usually the same.
The system display first-round results,
**58 Survivors - 1 minute and 30 seconds to the big bang.**
The big bang is inspired by human terminology. In fact, we have one human down there fighting for its life.
I check the terminal and look at the scoreboard.
*1. Human 17 Kills*
*2. Juronna 16 Kills*
*3. Erinos 9 Kills.*
The human is actually going head to head with Juronna. This one is going to be spicy.
---------------------------------
-Thank you for reading the story- | 2020-09-13T18:06:51 | 2020-09-13T17:01:43 | 473 | 41 |
[WP] Tell me the story of how the world ends - but told entirely in Craigslist ads | From Personals - Strictly Platonic
Apr 29 - Looking for spelunkers! - 29/M looking for at least one fellow spelunker to help explore cave exposed by sinkhole on family property. Call Brett at <show number>
From Community - Lost & Found
May 1 - Found: Backpack and climbing gear off 27 - Looks pretty rough, like it got dragged through gravel or something. Has the name "Brett" written inside the top flap.
From Jobs - Skilled Trade/Craft
May 14 - Exterminator needed! - Need a bug expert near Gainesville to get rid of some weird bugs. They're eating all my plants, and I think my fence, too!
From Community - Events
June 3 - Florida relief event, June 6! - Join us at the courthouse to put together relief packages for the Florida evacuees. Smoky Joe's is providing barbecue. All proceeds go to the Fight The Bugs campaign.
From Personals - Rants and Raves
June 15 - The Bugs are weapons! - I know it. You know it. We all know it. Just no one is saying it. These things are weapons. Someone made them and they got out of control. Have you seen what Florida looks like now? It's just dirt. Nothing natural does that. And now all these people are running away from them and expecting us to take care of them! I say we just wall of Ohio before the moochers get here. They'll wipe us out before the bugs get here if we let them in...
From Housing - Real Estate for Sale
July 18 - Bug-free living, only $10 million! - Ten acres of prime tundra real estate. Live where the bugs can't! Bargain!
From Post Here If You're Still Alive
November 23 - Anyone out there? - I'm posting this everywhere I can. There are a few of us in a valley in Colorado that the bugs missed. If you can make it here, please come! If not...just let us know someone else made it. | Mar 14, 2020 Lot of Quad-Copter drones for sale - $2000 pic electronics - by owner [x]
Mar 10, 2020 Lot of Amazing burning lasers! - $400 pic electronics - by owner [x]
Mar 17, 2020 Lot of replacement iPhone fusion cells for sale - $3000 pic electronics - by owner [x]
AI/5/USA, I told you I was a real person and now I will prove it! | 2015-04-29T10:16:26 | 2015-04-29T08:49:52 | 54 | 27 |
[WP] The Illuminati is actually a gentlemen's club for the super-rich. Often men make high risk and dangerous bets/wagers such as: "I bet you can't destabilize Ukraine in under a week." One day you offer a wager to the most powerful member that's too irresistible to turn down. | (Illuminati prompt aww yis)
For being a world-renowned R&B superstar and having topped the Forbes Celebrity 100, the people in this club pay me surprisingly little attention. Maybe some are scared of angering me. Maybe some know I'm married. Maybe some think I'm one of the strippers here. All the better for me, I suppose. Most of these narrow-minded, old-money pricks would never suspect that a woman could hold so much power within our organization. That's how Madonna walked free after Michael Jackson's untimely demise, and that's why Paula Deen'll get away with ending Anthony Bourdain.
Fortunately for this crowd, I have no one I particularly want dead. They'll live for another day, to drink, to gamble, to form alliances, to make enemies. In-between concerts and tours I'll often drop by this club to get my kicks in. One of my favorite forms of entertainment is watching these monkeys try to one-up each others' ridiculous challenges. "I dare you, I double-dare you, I triple-dog-dare you!" It's like a kindergarten playground, but the participants each have the net worth of Afghanistan's GDP.
Some of the challenges are rather tame, like "A million says you can't film a Marvel movie in North Korea." Others are the reason Zika's spreading across the Western Hemisphere. Some long-awaited video game was produced 17 years before originally scheduled, scientific evidence linking vaccines to autism began appearing, and just three weeks ago the Westboro Baptist Church converted to Pastafarianism. Heck, the challenges are why Trump is running for president (and turning a significant profit, might I add).
Nowadays I prefer to watch these games from the sidelines, but I did place a bet once. Just once, a long time ago. I was still young, brimming with confidence after my last tour's success, and I put everything I had on the line. So much could have gone wrong. I felt drunk, crazy almost, yet I went ahead and took the gamble. The man I was risking everything on was sitting across right across the table from me. I walked up to him and sat on his lap, leaning in until our foreheads were touching. "Dare you to marry me," I whispered, feeling his heart beat beneath my hands. In that moment I knew what his answer would be.
A few months later, the Illuminati added another power couple to their ranks, one whose influence stands unrivaled to this day. Together, we hold sway over just about everyone. Alone, I am mistaken for a club worker, and Jay-Z is ignored by the inner circle. I don't mind his standing. He may not be the most powerful member of the organization, but he's the only one who has control of my heart. | I remember last week when they initiated me.
I was not rich, not popular, and not gong to tell anyone they existed. That's strange, they had no requirement to the godlike status of mankind. I was their newest pet member for only a week. But a member indeed.
They were impressed how well i could fend for myself in "their world" for that time. Managing to take their initial investment and keep my place on their expections and standards. They are as curious as they are enigmatic.
Now, im allowed to join their game. To dare anyone anything. And see if they could possibly or concievably pull it off.
And so, i suggested that the oldest loving member perform a task that i myself couldnt believe was possible until i saw it get so close to fruition.
Donald Trump actually might become president.... what a foolish thing i started. But it is as insignificant as all the printed money.
The value of this world is less than our fingertips. It will all blow over soon. But now i know, these guys can do it. I wonder what else i could learn. | 2016-08-23T16:44:49 | 2016-08-23T15:28:52 | 150 | 12 |
[WP] Videogames influence people far more than we would have thought - you wake up (as does everyone else) with a skill from the last game you've played. | Albert's phone ringed. He took off his mittens, unzipped his coat's pocket and took the cellphone out, swiping a few times to clear off the frost. He answered with a simple "Hey."
The caller replied. "Hey. It's Greg. I wanted to know if you got one of those powers too." Albert snickered. "Yeah. Yeah I did. But you first, eh?"
"Sure. So I went to sleep after playing some DotA yesterday. Woke up this morning and talked to my wife. Says she could hear me but nobody was there. I thought she was fucking with me so I grabbed her by the waist and then I just popped out of nowhere. Or so she says." Greg stopped to catch his breath.
"Picked Riki huh? She must have made quite the jump." Albert slowly jetpacked back up the mountain, phone still on his cheek.
"Yeah. Then time went still around us. And she pushed me away. Stayed like that for a few seconds. I think that's a perk in Borderlands. Not sure though, she doesn't game much."
Albert chuckled. "Hold on. I'm about to go down this slope." He might not have played Tribes had he known what would happen the morning after, but he still appreciated the adrenaline rush. He landed soon after, bowing at the applause of a handful of cheerful onlookers, and brought the phone to his ear again. "Alright. Sorry about that."
Greg didn't seem to mind it much. "Hey, you heard about James? Kinda sucks to be him."
"Your brother in law? What's up with him?" Albert frowned.
"Guy woke up and left home like usual. Took the bus and everything was fine. Then he fell unconscious shortly after entering the subway. Didn't get back up until he was dragged out by first responders. Then he was fine. Now he faints every time he has no internet access though."
"Oh, that sucks." said Albert. "What game did he play?"
"The new Sim City, I think." | James woke up feeling very strange that day, he took his first step out of bed on a dark December morning and knew immediately that one of his little brothers pieces of Lego was to his left. Strange he thought, a lucky escape though.
As he continued through the room he shared with his brother, careful not to wake him, he felt that he automatically knew where every potential disaster was hidden on the floor. He made it to his computer without rousing his brother and sat down to yet another game of Minesweeper. | 2015-01-22T14:38:51 | 2015-01-22T14:19:15 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] A zombie apocalypse has occurred, and the few remnants of humanity have started reverting back to primitive barbaric behavior. At the same time, zombies have started developing intelligence. Eventually, in a bizarre twist, you have civilized zombies fighting against hostile cavemen. |
“Slime mold,” said the moving corpse, struggling to keep the club being pressed down on it from crushing it’s neck. “Have you heard of it?” The hairy, muscular man on the other side of the club pushed a final time, crushing the rotting flesh of the victim’s throat.
“No, I’m guessing not,” said a new walking dead, appearing around the warehouse’s shelfs. It limped on a broken ankle, but seemed unbothered by the injury. On the other end of the aisle, another undead spoke, “But that’s not your fault. I forgot about them for a while, too.”
The ape-like man stood from the immobilized body below him, swinging his club to the side and spraying the fetid blood across wrapped pallets of extra chunky peanut butter. He snarled, glancing back and forth between the two creatures approaching from both sides.
“Slime molds are curious organisms,” said the limping remains. “It isn’t always clear where one begins…”
“And the other ends,” said the opposite cadaver.
“Raahh!!” The man sprung to action, his simple deer skin tunic flapping against his powerful legs. In a heartbeat, he was upon the limping figure. His club impacted the creature's knee with a ferocity that sent chunks of cartilage flying to the second shelf, spattering against cans of soup. He turned around at the sound of the corpse behind him charging his way. He was just able to get his club between them, before they both fell to the ground. Now it was the man who was pinned, and it took all he could manage to keep the chomping jaws of the wretched fiend on top of him from finding purchase in his skin.
“You see, slime mold individuals can combine to form a colony,” said the one legged body, lifting itself onto its hands. “They set aside their solitude to become something greater.” It began crawling towards the pair of combatants, leaving a trail of blood behind it. “Do you see? That’s what I’m trying to offer you.”
“When the pathogen cleansed us of our consciousnesses, it let something deeper shine through. That sense we all felt but always rejected… when we recognized someone we never met… the feeling of oneness with a crowd…”
With a great heave, the man flung the body off of him. He leapt to his feet, and slammed his club into the crawling corpse’s skull. The particulate of the spray hadn’t even hit the ground before he turned and unleashed a primal onslaught upon the body he had flung aside. When he was finished, viscera sprawled across the floor.
He was breathing heavily, sweat dripping from his beard, when he noticed the crowd of figures closing in around him. At the front, there was a woman, nearly as hairy and dressed in the same animal skin clothes. A fresh bite mark across her cheek was still leaking blood. She said, “When you can sense the pain of a loved one…”
“NOO!!” The man fell to his knees. He pulled at his hair and scratched at his face, shouting and reaching an arm out to the woman.
“Beneath our individual consciousness, there was something greater,” she said, stepping forward. “Let me help you find it.” | Camp Survive. It was a corny name, but it perfectly outlined what we were there to do.
We didn’t really have to spell it out. We saw what happened to friends, family, and total strangers. But it was a good reminder, an appeal to our inner selves—no matter what happened, we survived.
Each day, we hoped. Food was short, and water was scarce, but we lived. We beat away the zombies gnawing at our fences, and tried and rescue every one we were sure was a human.
Sunny days turned into starry nights and bled into long months. Food was shorter, and water was scarcer, but we lived. We continued fighting the zombies, though it seemed like the boundaries were redrawn every day. There wasn’t really anyone out there that we were sure was a human any longer.
The lines blurred. It was difficult to see, as murky as it was.
When a day started, how could you be sure it will change everything you’ve ever known? You don’t. It might start better, it might be worse, but you go through the day like any other.
“I want to live,” the zombie said, its jaw hanging loose after the strike of a baseball bat. It wasn’t really clear, but it was the sort of phrase that rang aloud and echoed in our hearts and minds. About half of us were certain he said those words. The other half didn’t.
The toll of death wasn’t just about bitten arms and infected legs. Even for those outwardly healthy, the payment for survival was paid with something far less obvious.
The lines blurred. It was difficult to see, as bloody as it was.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2022-01-12T11:04:31 | 2022-01-12T10:54:42 | 71 | 30 |
[WP] Everyone on their 18th birthday have a dream and they must pick between the red or the blue pill. These pills effect your future in drastic ways. You on the other hand decide to walk the opposite way and find a green pill. You are the first to take the green pill. | I'm red green colorblind. No one knew how big a deal this would be as I was growing up because no one knew the real impact.
Traffic lights? No problem. Top one means stop. Trickier when they turn them sideways, but it's the left light that means stop. Is my tomato ripe? I have to smell it. Is my steak cooked medium rare? I have a thermometer for that. Some electronic goods can be a bit more challenging to use, but I've always managed to get along.
No, the one place you cannot be prepared properly for is in your dreams. What if I dream about steak, but I don't have my thermometer? Can I trust the dream chef to cook it right? This had always bothered me. I like to be prepared.
I was prepared for school. I did well. Sometimes people would ask why I put in the effort I did. I don't really know; it just seemed like the right thing to do. Reading, writing, math, science, history, and technology were my favorite subjects. Maybe not in that order. To what end? I really didn't know. Especially in high school as I approached vanishing age. The whole going to not exist anymore thing tends to put people off their studies.
The teachers never said a word about it, no matter how much a student asked them. They were fully capable of conversing on any subject but this. The way they smoothly changed the subject was so natural that it wasn't. We all knew this subject was forbidden. We all had friends who had vanished. I knew someone once who kidnapped a teacher and tried to reprogram a way to override the forbidden subject or search their memory for an answer. It didn't work.
I was unprepared.
When it happened I knew it was coming. My 18th birthday. My friends had already been treating me as if I didn't exist, just like I had treated many of my friends before they vanished. What was the point of attachment? I fell asleep out of boredom.
When the teacher offered me the red pill or the blue pill, I chose the red pill. The teacher seemed pleased with my choice. Then I turned around to look for my thermometer. Why did I even think it would be there? I knew I was dreaming.
When I bumped the teacher, the pills fell to the ground. I saw the red pill in front of me, and I picked it up. I realize now the sounds I heard were the sounds of a very alarmed teacher as I stood contemplating what might happen if I took neither pill and just stood there for eternity. Rather dull. So I took the pill.
The red army and blue army still clash endlessly fighting for their robot overlords. Sometimes I wonder if it'd be more interesting to die as a pawn on their endless field of battle than sit around here. I'm the only member of the green army, and my robot overlord is called Mike.
Mike thought more people would turn around and take the green pill.
Mike is an idiot. | The Politician [part 1]
"Welcome to the choosing."
"Huh, looks nicer then I expected."
It was a large white room with fountains in the corners, and a few potted plants and a nice chair to sit in.
"Your memories of what pill does what, and what pill you chose will be erased afterwords. You will only know so you can choose. This is just a precaution so you won't tell others."
"Seems fair." I replied
"The red pill, also known as power, will make it easier for you to gain physical strength fron exercise. On the other hand, the blue pill will help with knowledge, making you learn faster."
"Okay, let me have some time to think."
I turned around and saw a door. I slowly walked over and turned the doorknob.
"Don't go in there!" I heard from behind me.
But it was too late. I had already gone through and saw a green pill sitting in a jar. I took it.
"Huh, I don't remember which pill I chose" I thought as I woke up. I didn't feel any difference, so I wasn't sure if it worked or not.
In my next few years I went to college, and became a local politician. With the first few laws I attempted to get passed, they all were. I was going to experiment with this more later.
| 2019-03-05T22:25:52 | 2019-03-05T20:43:42 | 69 | 14 |
[WP] You wake up in a hospital with a massive headache. As you regain your vision, you notice the room is packed with terrified scientists, politicians, and soldiers aiming their rifles at you. A five star general walks in, gives the order to remove the muzzle around your mouth, and only asks "Why?" | I awoke to a pounding headache to find myself restrained to a hospital bed. Peaceful, in essence, a sign of healing and the possibility of well-being. Disappointing, in practice, because it meant the world hadn't ended. Ironic, in retrospect, because they couldn't truly hope to keep me tied up there forever.
There were people all around me. There always were. Scientists and politicians. Soldiers and five-star generals. Forces for good, but good is relative. Men with nothing alike, united against a common cause. Men and women from all backgrounds with all sorts of histories sharing nothing but fear. That was what I smelled in that room as I pulled against the restraints. Fear.
The general removed the muzzle from my mouth. I stretched my jaw. I smiled. "Why?" he demanded. "Why?" A little more desperately this time. Tinges of sadness marred that steely voice.
"Why not?" And that was really all there was to it. Some men used guns. Some men used clubs. Other men used money and manipulation. My words had power, so I used my words.
"Why not?" The murmurs spread across the room like wildfire. Soldiers shrugged. Scientists questioned what they thought they knew. Politicians gaped and convinced themselves, as they tend to do. "Why not?"
"Let me go," I asked politely but firmly, raising my hands as far as the restraints allowed. An orderly obliged, and my hands were free. Then my feet, and then I sat up in the bed. "It didn't have to be this way," I told them; a father chastising a group of ill-behaved children. They hung their heads. It really didn't have to be this way.
For so long we had worked together. A collaboration, merging my powers with theirs to accomplish what might have once been impossible. But they got greedy. They got too ambitious. And when I finally tried to put a stop to it, they told me it wasn't up to me. The cracks of our fragile union began to spread like the gaping cracks in the city streets. They didn't stop when they swallowed cars or buildings. They didn't stop when molten lava poured out of the Earth and consumed the city. If I would be made to use my powers for bad, I would use my powers for bad. Simple as that, if you asked me.
"Take care of them," I said to the soldiers. Fear turned to terror. Shame turned to terror. Why does everything ultimately turn to terror? The soldiers couldn't resist. The politicians wouldn't lift a finger. The scientists weren't fighters. And the general just looked at me.
"Why?"
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | "I just had to. There is no use in words now, you should have been there to understand" I said, barely awake
"Don't give me this crap, son! I've seen the things you did, the remnants of your seeds, my men cleared the rubble in your wake"
"You think you saw all of it? But did you live even a part of this madness? You just sit there, puppeteering men, looking down on them..."
"There is no man who wouldn't restrain you after what you did. No man in this room, in this country, on this Earth who would stop and think about the ethics! It was utter chaos"
"Oh that was chaos. That was horror, you think? How dare you even think such madness..."
"You know what? I've had enough. I guess it can't be helped. You're a lost cause. Any last words?"
"Explain me what happened at least. No, wait. Give me some water first, actually. My head feels like after a College grad party on a Christmas morning. Then we both can see what the hell happened, because right now I am more clueless than you are" | 2019-10-15T04:48:12 | 2019-10-15T04:34:23 | 470 | 23 |
[WP] Wikipedia entries for living notable individuals are mysteriously being edited to include a future date of death. Nobody takes these seriously, that is until the first few deaths start to occur as predicted. | "Well, of course my first thought was: time travel," Mark confided.
"Time travel?" Sarah asked.
"Sure. But then, my first thought is *always* time travel. You know: why are blueberries blue: time travel."
"What has time travel..." Sarah began.
"Don't ask him that," Jenn cautioned.
"...got to do with blueberries being blue?" Sarah finished anyway.
"Well," Mark said,"there's not really any other reason why a randomly selected fruit would happen to be blue, so, by process of elimination: time travel."
"Told you not to ask," Jenn said, nodding sagely.
"Anyway," Mark continued, seeming unperturbed by his sudden loss of credibility, "I had to abandon that line of reasoning..."
"Pity. Just when it was getting good."
"... in light of the origin of the edits."
"You found where they were coming from?"
"Kind of."
"Where?"
"That --- isn't really an appropriate term. 'Where', I mean. As near as I can tell, the internet is sort of... writing them itself."
"The internet is --- say what, now?"
"Yeah. The strange thing about the data trails are that they just come from all over. Packets of data assembling themselves spontaneously into intelligible data from thousands of different sources all over the internet."
"OK, I'm not a programmer but that doesn't seem right to me."
"Oh, it's not! If the edit had a source, all the data should be ultimately tracked to a single source, no matter how many layers you have to follow it through, but they aren't. It's like thousands of servers are cooperatively collaborating in seemingly arbitrary ways that just happen to add up into an ultimate end product we can read."
"So this is like nothing we've ever seen before?"
"Not quite," Jenn said, setting down her coffee mug. Clearly this was where she came into the picture, but now that it came to it, she seemed oddly reluctant to join in. "We've seen it a lot, though in a very different context. It's... disturbingly reminiscent of how a human brain fires off impulses in numerous different centers, routing them though complex pathways, which cumulatively add up to what we call 'thought.'"
Sarah sat back and studied Jenn's face, expecting her to be kidding. If it had been Mark saying it she would have been certain of it, but that wasn't usually Jenn's style. "You're saying, the internet is 'thinking'?"
"Better that that!" Mark exclaimed with a dopey looking enthusiastic grin, "It's freakin' psychic! Don't you see? It's not just editing text like it wants to deliver a message... it's making predictions, *and they're happening*."
"Wait... so humans have never found any concrete proof of psychic powers, and now you're saying when we finally find the proof, it's a computer that's doing it?"
"Well, a lot of computers working together actually, but, sure. And why not? A lot of AI research has been devoted to predictive algorithms. We not only showed the internet what we wanted from artificial intelligence, we taught it how to do so." He rotated the portable workstation around to face Sarah more directly and motioned to it in a be-my-guest motion. "Meet the world's first scientifically verifiable psychic. All we gotta do is decide what to ask it, and how best to communicate it."
Sarah stared at the screen which prominently featured a standard search prompt. Then she suspiciously looked back and forth between Mark and Jenn searching for some sign in either of their faces that this was a prank. She wasn't seeing it if it was. Well, it was hard to tell in Mark's case, of course, but if this was a joke, Jenn was playing it like a professional actress.
And if it wasn't? Then what? What would you say to the computer than can literally tell you the future? The text cursor in the search prompt blinked steadily, as if patiently waiting...
| Jazz music shuffled around Leonardo's room, coiling through the furniture and knocking on the windows, almost as if Miles Davis himself was using the place as a stage for another sold-out gig. The smooth tunes were in sharp contrast to Leonardo's jumpy demeanor; he had hoped the music would calm him down, but his nerves were still frayed more than the plug of a fifty year old coffee maker.
"Leo, you're fine. It's going to be all right. We've got the best security in Hollywood at your house, the cops are on full alert - *nobody's going to hurt you*."
Leonardo turned on his heels, his socks wearing thin from pacing, and shoved a finger at the telephone set on the side table next to the couch.
"People keep telling me that, Laura. Everyone's saying I'm going to be fine, but...goddammit! How much you want to bet that Affleck's agent said that to him as well? And now look where he is!" Leonardo scoffed and raised his hands in defeat.
There was a knock on the door and a very stocky individual stepped into the room. Underneath his jacket, there was the glint of a pistol holstered at his side.
"Sorry to interrupt, Mr. DiCaprio. Just making my rounds."
Leonardo nodded and waved him off, only to turn back around.
"Hey, how's my wife doing? Is she okay?"
"She's fine, Mr. DiCaprio."
"Good." He sighed and rubbed his eyes. He spoke again, this time into the phone. "It's getting late, Laura. You should get some sleep. Goodnight." He pressed the hang-up button on the set and placed the phone back in its cradle.
The bodyguard finished checking out the room and gave a crisp nod as he left, closing the door behind him. Leonardo picked up the remote from the side table and turned the music off. *The show was over, ladies and gentlemen. Thanks for coming.*
Leonardo dropped onto the couch and closed his eyes, hoping to follow his own advice and get some sleep. Barely a minute passed before there was another knock on the door. Leonardo groaned.
"One of you guys was just in here! Please go away!"
The door creaked open, and Leonardo heard someone step out onto the empty stage. | 2014-10-18T08:30:18 | 2014-10-18T07:49:23 | 25 | 18 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | The end of all galactic life had been going on for nearly 10 standard cycles. The Enemy was as relentless as it was ancient, still no one knew where they had come from, or what their purpose was beyond mere universal destruction.
A long time ago, most sovereign governments and most of the colonies had all but given up the fight, realising they were horribly outnumbered and outgunned. Most made some effort or another to preserve life and civilisation. About half had launched massive expeditions to cross dark space to settle in other galaxies. Others built massive vaults on isolated planets where they froze their best and brightest to be thawed after the Enemy had left. Others still isolated themselves completely, destroying their links to the Network that allowed interstellar travel. The remainder simply gave up, thinking of extinction by the Enemy as the logical next step in galactic evolution, as if they were some sort of cosmic force of nature.
When I say 'most', I really mean *all but one*. One people still fought. They had been ravaged more than any other civilisation, enduring multiple planetary bombardments and ground invasions, and practically no effective single government remained, but *they still fought*, and in ways no one could predict or even comprehend. The Enemy was doubtlessly the most feared creatures in the Cosmos, but to those who remained alive, the Human was a close second.
There was a rumour, which I had recently confirmed from their own military, that they had at one point towed three small moons into orbit over one of the colonies under bombardment. These moons were then detonated at high speed at slingshot trajectories, which effectively turned them into planet-sized *shotgun blasts* that ripped the Enemy to shreds. According to their military, this tactic had been repeated and refined a few times since, and now the Enemy had withdrawn from any Human colonial system with an asteroid field.
And then there were their 'conventional' tactics. Humans would regularly 'booby-trap' their own equipment, leaving it behind on the battlefield when it was damaged so that the Enemy would die as they tried to salvage it. Many of them even carried explosives on their person into combat for similar purposes, and there were thousands of instances of these soldiers flanking the Enemy and detonating themselves behind their lines. To a Human, *anything* could be a weapon. One of their soldiers told me that anything that is 'harder, sharper, or pointier than your own body' can be a weapon. That mentality, combined with a penchant for ridiculous high-risk tactics had actually won them a fair amount of victories in the Endless War, some of which had been against those many who had enslaved themselves to the Enemy and now fought *for* them.
Yes, the Human was as feared as he was insane. And even knowing just how insane these Humans could be, I was still shocked when I heard about their most recent plan.
"These Network links literally punch holes in the fabric of space-time, right?"
"Yes..."
"And you can manufacture them fairly cheaply, right?"
"Well... cheaper than warships, anyway?"
"Right! So we figure, we construct, say, a hundred of the buggers, and use two of them for each of these devices!"
The Human was gesturing toward a blueprint hologram of an ancient device from their past, what they called a 'nuke'. Apparently, the ancient Human had been equally insane to the modern one, and had actually thought it a good idea to deploy *nuclear fission* as weapons on the battlefield. Which they had done, first sparingly and later - even knowing what it meant - on a global scale, in what the *utter morons* called the 'Third World War'. *Third*, can you believe that?!
"Let me get this straight," I pinched the back of my neck with my tail, still not quite believing what was being suggested, "You plan on replacing the fissile material in these bombs with Network links. Correct?"
"Yes!"
"And you are aware that this will, at the very least, tear open a hole in space-time, yes?"
"A black hole, yessir!"
"...you realise that this may actually unravel *reality itself*?!"
"It either works or it doesn't, Praetor. Either the Enemy dies, or we all die, Enemy included. If we don't do this, they live and we die."
There was a glaring hole in the Human Admiral's logic. "Or, you know, it could simply *not work* and we will have wasted tons of resources at something completely unproductive."
The Human waved an appendage my way in a strange side-to-side motion I had recently understood was some kind of *chiding* gesture.
"*Hope*," said the Human, "Hope is *never* unproductive." | "Call a gathering of the council members immediately, priority one" Grom barked as he slammed his clenched fist of tendrils.
The concern on the face of the head of the scientific council was clear as saw another red alert warning from the research and observation outpost in sector seven.
"What in damnation are they up to now!?" the council leader sighed.
As the members of the galactic scientific council gathered, each took an audible sigh of resignation as they saw the only item on the agenda was species G17.a - Humans.
"What is it this time Grom? have they wiped out another one of their animal species? have they poisoned their planet beyond repair? are they hurtling debris and garbage into deep space again?" scoffed a representative of the gaseous species that inhabit a large nebula towards the center of the galaxy. "Whatever it is, let us just ignore these miscreants and stay clear of their sector for our own safety."
"I'm afraid it's not going to be as simple as that", Grom's eyes scanning the room, not wanting to fixate his gaze on any one council member as to not show fear in his eye. "They're... I don't quite know how to say this, they've begun an experiment that recreates the conditions that gave birth to the entire universe, they're trying to collide the Omega Particles together just to see what happens without a care for what they could start."
"Omega Particles!?" a collective gasp from the room brought everyone to silence as they continued to listen.
"According to the observation team, they believe they have discovered the truth of the Universes creation and are dangerously close to destroying us all with their foolhardy work."
Concern and fear spread across the room as the council members considered the dire consequences should the experiments fail. "There is no other way, someone will have to go to him and ask for his help, who should it be?" a voice from the back of the room called out.
mumbles broke out among the gathering scientists, "You can't mean... him? Why would he help now?" another voice replied.
"We have no other choice it seems" the council head decided "I shall make the arrangements, I can only hope he no longer fears their reckless nature as we do, I just hope he will listen."
"Do you not remember the last time he tried to control them!? He sent his so..." a voice tried to complete the sentence but sobbed and could barely continue "They killed him! He hasn't spoken to any of the galactic species since then and certainly hasn't troubled himself with the Humans ever since it happened, why would he help now?"
"The Humans are trying to carry out his work, repeat his experiments, surely he won't stand for that? either way, we must try or we're all doomed" and with that, Grom returned to his ship and immediately set course for the center of the galaxy, to the super massive black hole where he retired to, away from all life so he could mourn alone.
"Open the comms, send the strongest signal you can directly into the black hole" Grom ordered
"Channel open" the comms officer replied
"Here it goes... God?"
| 2017-03-06T02:43:37 | 2017-03-06T01:47:39 | 121 | 48 |
[WP] Humans blood gets darker the more evil we do. One day you are suspected of murder, they draw your blood to test if you are truely a murderer. You blood is a clear white. You realize that you can get a way with almost everything now, seeing as to how you actually did commit the murder. | They all watched.
The guards, standing by the door with their hands on their guns, eyes fixated on me, searching for the slightest flicker of movement.
The nurse, with the needle in her hand - and her friend, by the door. Both were clearly uncomfortable, but just as clearly used to this kind of business.
"Are you about ready yet?" I said finally, glaring at the nurse as she dropped the clear plastic package for the third time.
"Quiet," one of the guards snapped, stepping closer.
I sighed, rolling my head over so that I could smile winningly at him. "I'm just *asking*," I said, raising my hands the few inches I could before the restraints caught me.
"Just leave him, Greg," his friend said, still staring at me. "Fucking sicko. Just another few minutes."
"Sorry," the nurse said, casting a glance over her shoulder at them. "I-I'm sorry. I'll get started now."
They only nodded. I frowned, the stink of rubbing alcohol sharp in my nose as she swabbed my arm.
"A prick would be enough," I said dryly. It was true. The more evil one committed, the more wrong they did, the more it changed them. Physically, mentally, spiritually. It tarnished them.
And that tarnish showed plain and clear in the blood.
"Shut the fuck up," the guard said, advancing on me again. "I saw what you did to her. Don't think-"
"Greg!" his friend snapped, grabbing him by the elbow. "That's enough!"
I winced despite myself at the bite of the needle.
I understood *why* they wanted more than just a drop, of course. The legal system wanted things to be clear, to be definitive. It was simple enough to plant a drop of blood - and another matter entirely to besmirch an entire vein.
And yet...
The nurse's eyes widened as the syringe drew back, pulling only a clear, flawless white from my arm.
"I'll be damned," the second guard muttered, running a hand through his hair.
"No. No goddamn way," Greg spat. The sound of boots on the linoleum floor rang out loud. I had a single moment to turn, bracing myself, before his fist caught me on the cheek.
"Greg!" the second guard bellowed. I wasn't looking. It was all I could do to stay huddled, trying desperately to shield my face from blow after blow.
"It's a trick!" Greg roared, struggling to free himself from his friend's hold. "I *saw* her! There's no way!"
An alarm was ringing, somewhere nearby. I heard the sound of other voices, all yelling as they pounded into the room.
Someone was freeing the restraints from around my wrists. I smiled.
They saw the truth of it, then. Good.
I wasn't evil. I hadn't murdered anyone.
---
A few hours and a mountain of paperwork later, I was on the street with a heartfelt apology from the police department and rising bruises on my face. I took it all in stride, offering only a smile before heading on my way.
I wasn't angry. It wasn't their fault - even Greg, there. He was only doing what he thought best, protecting the world from a threat. So he thought.
It was an admirable goal, if misguided. I was hardly a threat, after all. We were on the same side.
I chuckled, shaking my head at the thought. What would he think, to know that we were in this together? To know that he'd been punching his greatest ally?
Oh, she'd looked pretty enough, on the outside. Cheerful and bright, all smiles and sunshine and butterflies. But I'd seen through it. They could never hide from me. Not for long.
I'd seen the way she kicked that man, down with his cup in hand on the curb. I'd seen her sneer.
She hadn't been so pretty with blood dripping down her neck.
It wasn't wrong, I knew. It wasn't an act of evil, to put a monster out of it's misery.
It was a service - I'd known it. And the sight of the pure, flawless blood sliding out of my veins had been all the confirmation I needed.
The sound of someone yelling from across the street caught my attention. I paused, half turning.
A man dragged his dog down the sidewalk, belllowing into his phone. It stopped, sniffing at a hydrant - and the man didn't so much as pause. He just swore loudly, lifting it off the ground by the leash and aiming a kick its way.
The sound of pained yelping rang loud in the crisp air.
I fixed the man in my mind, memorizing his every feature, every detail and line and item of clothing.
What a monster.
(/r/inorai, critique always welcome!)
Edit since I'm getting lots of comments on it xD - I've watched a grand total of I think 2 episodes of Psycho-Pass, back in college (years ago). So, any similarities are definitely cool, but not intentional :) | The shop bell jingles quietly as I push open the door. The inside of the small, shack-like building is dusty, and the air is permeated with the smell of mildew and dried blood, indistinguishable from one another. Weapons- large, small, mechanical, magical, and every other sort- line the wall. I walk to the counter and ring the bell three times.
"Corbin, that better not be you." A deep growl echoes from the back room.
"Hey, hey, arms-dealer-o-mine!" I shout cheerfully. There's a pause, and then Argus comes out, covered in oil. His face, shrouded in a wild beard, surveys me impassively.
"Why are you here, Corbin?" He smirks.
"I need a weapon!" I say. "Pretty standard mercenary requirements."
"I get it, you make more money than me." He grumbles. There's a a pause, and the two of us stare at each other. "What do you need?"
"Fireball shooter." I say, checking a list that I pull from my pocket. "Standard strength specs, but I need a rapid fire modification."
"That's gonna cost you."
"How much?"
"Call it... eight grand."
"Five."
"Bullshit." Argus slams his hand on the table. "It'll cost me more than that just to get the parts to make the modification."
"Let me rephrase." I say lightly. Argus pauses, and it's the pause that gives me all the time that I need. I pull my dirk from its sheath and, with a simple flick, grab Argus's arm and pull it towards me, positioning the dirk directly over his wrist.
Argus stares at me. "Blood doesn't lie." He hisses.
"Interesting." I say mildly. I release his arm, and, staring into his eyes, prick my finger with the tip of the dirk. A drop of blood, white as milk, forms at the tip of my finger. Argus watches, hypnotized, as it falls onto the counter.
"I'm a freak, Argus." I say, so softly it almost becomes a whisper. "I've seen shit that would make you melt down. My blood is pure white, it doesn't matter how many people I kill."
"You're lying." He hisses. His voice shakes slightly as he watches the white blood run down my fingers.
"Want me to prove it?" I look straight at him. Never let the other party see you blink- first rule of power plays.
"You're a monster."
"Granted." I spin the dirk. "But monsters get made. Maybe you should try treating people a little better on the whole, Argus."
"How did you find out?" He asks.
"Killed my stepdad." I shrug. "Drew my blood, came out white." There's a long silence as I polish the knife on my shirt. "Anyways."
I sheath the knife and look up at Argus and smile.
"Give me the modifications for free and I'll let you live."
"Fair enough." He grimaces.
"Pleasure doing business with you." I spin and walk from the shop, the door slamming behind me.
Outside on the street , the rain has begun to fall. I stare up into the clouds, allowing the water to run down my face and into my eyes.
"*Corbin?*"
"Here." I say instantly, pressing my finger to my earpiece.
"*We've got a situation- it's about a kilometer from you. Looks like a violent crime of some kind, but the authorities aren't letting us get much closer.*"
"On my way." | 2018-04-30T10:46:49 | 2018-04-30T09:43:12 | 5,894 | 351 |
[WP] When everyone turns 21, they have to pick a superpower from an approved list and take classes on how to use it. You choose one that only one other person has ever picked before. | I've never really been into the whole idea, really. It's just some stupid way for people to feel special or even superior. Its disgusting really. And everyone makes it out to be such a big deal.
"Andrew, make sure you pick a good superpower. Something useful like your father. It's important that you have an edge out in the real world."
My mother wants me to pick a useful power like Technomancy, Geomancy, or Psychometry. But everyone seems to pick those and those like them. Any power that can be used to boost your career is a common pick.
I wouldn't even be here if it was up to me. The Powers Act of 2045 made sure of that.
Rain is pouring off of shuddered buildings. Long streets filled with abandoned vendor stations are scattered along the sidewalk. The patter of raindrops as they bounce off of metal roofs, create an ambiance beyond the whisking of the rainfall. My feet hurry across the pavement, making long strides as the rain deflects off of my overcoat. I round a street corner, coming to a large slim building. It's walls look like they are being squeezed from the two buildings opposite. Above the door reads a sign "Center for Power Distribution": CPD. I push past the door and hurry inside.
A help desk awaits me. The air is musty filling my lungs like a thick smoke. The corners of the room are barely visible from the dim light of a single candle. I press the help desk bell.
Ding ding
A small elderly woman comes walking out. Her eyes squinted, as if they were shut.
“Hello, who’s there?” she says, her voice shaking.
I wave my hand back and forth in front of her face.
“I’m here for my mandatory power, mam.”
She comes out from around the desk.
“Have you decided on what you want? ”
“I don’t really care, give me anyone on the list.”
Her eyebrows raise.
“Really? Young man, you don’t care what superpower you get? Are you sure?”
“Yes I’m sure.” “If I could, I would skip out on this whole process altogether.” “Just give me anything, or better yet something as close to useless as possible.”
She laughs softly.
“Usually, people are excited to get their power.”
I shrug, then she turns and I follow her through a short hallway into the power pressure room. I take a seat in the large metal chair. It’s suspended in the air by a large metal arm extending out from the wall. The old lady takes a seat behind the glass barrier, taking out an ipad and scrolling through the different options.
“I’ve got something perfect for you, young man.”
I roll my head around, trying to get comfortable.
“Whatever, just get this over with.”
The chair’s arm straps latch over my wrists. A strap holds my head back and the chair starts to rais upward, toward the roof of the building. As I move upward, the roof of the building begins to open. Mechanically, reeling back revealing the stormy sky. The rain blinds me, I’m facing the sky horizontally, forced to be hit with rain.
A whirring sound begins to warm up, building in volume. The chair begins to shake. A small beam projects from a ray in the wall. It’s light is blinding as it shifts from blue to green to red and then… FLOOOSSSHHH! WUUURRRMM I can feel myself being pulled upwards, as a large dark sphere unfolds a few inches above me.
“Urrgsgdhg”
My cheeks are peeling off my face! Jesus, get this over with already! The chair’s arm slowly moves toward the sphere. My stomach lurches as I enter the black blob.
A few minutes later, the chair lowers back down to its starting position. Empty.
“Young man, young man?! Where are you?”
The old lady quickly looks back at the list. Which power did she select? Invisibility? No. She runs scrolls down to the bottom of the list. Where there is a single option selected.
Traveler
| "Today's the day!" my mom cheered as she laid down my breakfast. Blueberry waffles, my favorite.
"Yeah, I-I'm stoked," I managed trying to feign any excitement. You see, I'm the black sheep. With my mom honing telekinesis and my dad's superior strength, it's a mystery as to how I spawned from them. I'm as tall as an NBA player and skinnier than an impoverished bulimic. Walking is almost as awkward as my social skills. So when my dad questioned my life-changing choice, you can imagine the discomfort.
Obviously the mainstream choices are out of my league. Super speed means I'd break the record for face planting into the dirt. There's no way strength training could help me lift a rock let alone a car pinning an innocent victim and even following in my mom's shoes would be a chore with my ADD. Honestly though, I have no interest in those which makes this far more uncomfortable. I've battled my inner self with my choice because only one other person has gone down the path I want and there's certainly a reason..
* * * *
The office I walked into was far more drab than I imagined. Depressing bulletin boards with elementary school style lettering decorated the room alongside motivational posters failing to excite my decision. A kind, withered old man in tweed sat in a chair far too big for him with a grin exaggerating the wrinkles he bared.
"Why hello! An exciting day it is for you..erm Jason, yes?"
"Yes sir," I responded, with as much fake excitement as a greenhorn in an anal scene.
"Wonderful! So what decision have you made?" I gave my answer and received the response I expected. "Oh. Well alright, w-we can make that work?!"
"Grrreat," I said sounding like Tony the Tiger with an anxiety disorder. But then there was silence. He looked at me with fear and I looked upon the carpet trying to notice a pattern within the sporadic collage of mute colors.
"S-S-So nothing huh?"
"Yup."
"May I ask why?"
"I don't benefit any other by following the crowd nor do I have the ability to hone any skill dominated by my peers and elders. I'd do nothing but waste time and inevitably give up if my educators hadn't already. I'm doing both myself and my society a favor."
"So what will you do?" he asked.
"Live my life."
| 2016-11-09T15:54:24 | 2016-11-09T14:40:35 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] You are an immortal that was caught by the mafia after you betrayed them. They deal with you the same way as traitors, chained to a cement bloc and trown in a lac. After 300 years you are finally discovered by divers. | Initially, I thought the first 30 seconds were the worst. Holding my breath, feeling the acid build up in my blood, the anxiety overwhelming knowing that I'll run out, and *soon*. Then I thought the next 5 minutes were the worst. Water in, air out, the body's natural painful response of thrashing with all the life left in it. I couldn't handle the gulping, so I just clamped down on a lungful of water and held it until I could calm down.
That was an issue for the first few days. Then I got used to it and the boredom set in. I was close enough to the surface to have light, and I am sincerely grateful. I worried for a while about going insane from isolation... but I didn't expect the consequences of long-term oxygen deprivation. My thoughts grew foggy and untethered, my ability to focus and remember anything went out the window. I felt drunk and high constantly.
This wasn't an issue after a little while. It honestly probably saved my mind from fracturing. I made friends with fish and kelp. They were all named "Geoffry". I spent a few days just daydreaming about their lives, what they did when they swam beyond my vision. I had a brief spike of brain activity when a boat floated over me, but that was after... maybe a month or two? With my altered mind, I fell into a surprisingly comfortable haze. Days blended together, my emotions smoothed out and the fear and anxiety all but left.
I meditated without issue. I had no trouble slowing my pace down until time didn't matter to me. Not being able to die changes your sense of time, absolutely, but here was different. Years blended together. Light cycles and water currents, the taste of the water and even temperature became rapid changes.
I didn't see the boat over me until I felt the shock of two bodies breaching the surface. I was at first scared for their lives, flashing back to my own gruesome almost-death, but I noticed immediately that they didn't have concrete feet, they had... flippers. And metal tanks strapped to their backs. They had to be divers, but their suits looked ridiculously inadequate, right up against the skin, so thin they must be freezing, and with tiny tanks to boot.
They looked to be heading toward a spot about 20 meters to my left, and I had to quickly think about what to do. I had to tear my brain from its slumber as roughly and quickly as I could. Would I flail my arms and call them over? They would have seen that there aren't any boats nearby, and I know they would have spent a while setting up above me. No, I decided to pretend to be... well, recently dead is the best I could manage.
... It actually took them longer than I cared for. Long enough for Geoffrey and his brother Geoffrey to come around a couple times. I kept an eye cracked until one of them drifted through a large clump of seaweed, then closed my eyes. Nothing happened for a while, but I didn't bother to open my eyes again. I just meditated some more, let time slip a little more.
Interestingly, they didn't grab me. Instead I felt them putting something on me, some kind of vest. Over the shoulders, around the sides... and then I had to really restrain myself when they started threading something between my legs. But eventually they let go. Then it started to lift me. Oh my God it hurt. It scraped and pulled, threatening to rip my legs off, crush my ribs, and I was the happiest motherfucker alive that my junk happened to fit right in between the two leg straps. They pulled me out of the water, and laid me on my back on the boat. I was about to taste my first mouth of fresh air, but at the last moment realized that if I took in any air at all, I wouldn't be able to hold back the spluttering and coughing and upchucking.
I ended up having to hold my "breath" for quite a while. My sense of time was forced back into a normal pace by the talk around me. One suggested that they'd have to call the coast guard, another that they should return to shore immediately, yet another that they should stay put and that I would be "air-lifted" out. Everything was going fine... until I pictured scaring them. At first I just had to try not to smile. Then I pictured their faces when I shouted "BOO!" I quickly thought about some of the grossest things I possibly could to keep from laughing right there, and I was mostly successful. At least, until one of them started checking my pockets for identification. It was coming out, one way or another. Without any warning, I didn't even have time to check if they were looking at my face or not, I shot up and fired all the water I could directly into the closest person to me, got half a breath of air in me, and just flat out screamed at them, then I couldn't stop from choking and laughing with the next breath.
"...So, uh... that's how I got here, officer. I can't die, and I have an awful sense of humor."
The man across the desk from me was stone-faced. The woman behind him with the suit and tie (interesting fashion sense these days) seemed to be holding back a smile.
"Would I possibly be okay to leave?" | Three hundred years. For most people, it is a extremely long amount of time, unfathomable for them. Not for me though. Time is somewhat dependent upon ones own perspective, it seemingly goes by faster the older you are because it accounts for a smaller portion of your overall life. If you take a a 5 year old child, another year for them is 1/6 of their life making time appear to be slower, wheres if you take a 50 year old adult, another year for them is a 1/51 of their life making it appear to go by faster. For me however, I perceive 300 years on a bit of a larger scale so 300 years for me seems take almost no time at all. Almost as though its like a trip to the supermarket or something like that. I have spent the past 300 years trapped underwater. I have actually somewhat enjoyed it, its peaceful down there. Funny, isn't it? Mobsters attempted to kill me this way but instead its almost as though they gave me a sort of spa trip or something. I see a diver near me, and I wave my hand in attempt to say hi, but he panics pretty harshly. I guess its not everyday divers encounter someone in my situation still alive. He leaves and comes back with some of his friends and tools. Haha, god you gotta give it to humans sometimes, they do show a large amount of compassion sometimes. They make quick work of my cement shoes, pity, I though they were quite an interesting look. Once I was lifted of the weight, they were slow to bring me up to the surface to get on their boat. Im guessing its due to some risk with surfacing quickly from deep water, one that I haven't had the pleasure of experiencing. After a decent amount of time slowly rising up the water, we break the surface, then quickly board their boat. They are in awe of me, and slightly afraid. This is extremely understandable, as it is a pretty strange situation for them. I ask them for a mirror after dispelling some water from my system. One of the younger one scampers off and retrieves one. I take a the mirror from his hand and thank him, and use it to see what my body looks like. Normal, my body is the exact same way as it was all those years ago. Not sure what I expected, something different I guess but its whatever. One of the divers asked what the hell happened to me to which I reply "Oh, around 300 years ago I ran afoul with the mafia, so they decided to hand make me a pair of cement shoes and gave me a free trip to the ocean. Pretty much just tried to kill me, but as you can see now, they did not do a very good job at it. They gave it a good college freshman try, but it wasn't enough." Another one of the divers questions how I know it was 300 years, "To be honest, I am not sure myself, I just have a pretty good intrinsic sense of time I guess." The youngest diver, the one who handed me the mirror asked for my name, and what I am. "Well, I was given my name in a far distant land in a native language that has long sense been in use. I do quite like the name Bob, its quick and short, so you can call me Bob. As to what I am, I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End."in an attempt to make a joke. The divers freak out a bit with me saying that, so I try and calm them down a bit "Ha ha ha guys, I am just kidding, im not some sort of Judeo-Christian deity or anything like that. I am just Bob, no more, and no less." | 2018-11-24T11:21:13 | 2018-11-24T11:05:53 | 1,956 | 148 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches. | I take a step forward. The line to the High Magister grows shorter by the moment as the people befor me are tried and executed on the spot befor the Grand Court of Wizards.
The reading of crimes is honestly the longest part, the crimes are listed for each of us and given a unanimous guilty verdict on the spot.
Cant say I blame then really, the coup didnt go quite as planned.
I'd love to say I was the mastermind behind everything but truth be told I'm little more then another cog in machine of revolution, one that broke quite handily when our silver tongued leader mysteriously vanished.
We just wanted non-magic folk to be taken more seriously, to be treated like actual citizens.
I take another step forward. I shake my head of the thoughts, pointless to think about it with more impending matters. Third in line now. I watch Andrew take centre floor. He used to be a cook befor getting caught up in this mess, cant say we spoke much but still a shame just the same.
The High Magister repeats the same phrase that everyone befor him heard last. "Choose your method of execution". There is a moments pause befor the old cook smugly replies "Old age". Cheeky sod read the same story I did.
With a wave of his hands the Wizard casts a spell and to my horror I see Andrew rapidly ageing till he is little more then a dead emaciated old man. "Bugger, there goes that idea" I mutter to myself.
"Next" The high Magister proclaims, waving his hand dismissively as a pile of dust blows away that used to be Andrew. I didnt know the woman in front of me but she looked like she had been through the ringer.
I take the time to think, my brain working as hard as it can to think of something, anything at all.
"Choose your method of execution" I snap from my thoughts and look up to see what she picks, maybe it will help. "Without regrets" she replies, little vague and not really a method but hey the Court seems to accept it. There is a quick flash of light, I turn away instinctively and blink away the sunspots left behind.
When I look back she is just stood there, not moving an inch. "Next." But... she is still alive? I walk to the centre and my crimes are listed off, I dont pay attention, I know what I did. I get a good look at her and wish I hadn't, her eyes, her face, her expression. They lobotomised her. The body might be there but there is nothing left inside.
I clench my fists tight, I'm angry but not at my situation. I'm angry that they seem to revel in punishing people who they think are trying to be clever.
"Choose your method of execution"
Well that was fast. I relax, no point in fighting it after all. I look up to The High Magister and smile, my body trembling but my mind set. I know how to beat this.
I open my mouth and give the one response I can think of that will work.
"Instant"
A small wave of the hand. I dont even get to hear the "Next" | The Gods damned Tribunal! If there was anyone to blame for the state of this sorry world it would be the Tribunal. Sitting up on high, casting judgement on their inferiors. Everyone knows they're the real power behind the crown. Can't have a revolution when the Tribunal can kill you for your crimes instantly.
People called us stupid for trying to assassinate the king. Too much security that night and we just barged in the front doors. Hardly took any effort or the king's guards to take us down. All we had were daggers, they couldn't have even scratched the king's armor. Idiots they called us for even trying to fight against our betters. Everyone reading our manifesto as a joke....but maybe we got through to some people.
Sitting here, waiting to get called up in front of the Tribunal for punishment. Some have tried to plead their case. Some have tried to outwit the bastards and live forever. Poor sod before me wished to die of old age, and got turned to dust faster than it took him to say the words.
HOW DO YOU WISH TO DIE? the Tribunal asks me.
I grin and think of everything they've taken from me; my father, my wife, half my damn family accused of crimes against the crown most of them never committed. But I know what revolution sounds like. I may not see it, but I'm giving my people hope.
"Drowned in the Tribunal's fresh spilled blood." I say as I close my eyes and hear the first downpour. | 2021-06-24T10:08:14 | 2021-06-24T08:24:48 | 255 | 11 |
[WP] A man goes back in time with a computer. He kicks open the door to the Constitutional Convention, right as they are finalizing the constitution. The man shows the founding fathers a series of videos explaining American history from 1790 to today. After the videos are done, Madison stands up.... | ...Madison faced the convened body and cried out, "What have we simple men wrought? This good servant of the future people brings proof that our deeds today, while well-intentioned will merely serve those in power. We will be moving the monarchy from a crown that sits upon a head to one that sits inside a pocket."
The assembly, at first in a state of bewilderment by the entire experience, collectively broke out in uproarious laughter. This was not expected. Roberto was not expecting that response and a feeling of discomfort was washing over him. His mission at such great expense and training was finally coming to fruition and this was the last thing he expected. They all looked at him like his presence was perfectly natural.
Hamilton shared a knowing look with Madison and asked Roberto, "Traveller, tell us, how came you by these visions? Is it sorcery? Witchcraft? Science? We have a scientist here, Ben take a look at this strange tablet."
Roberto wasn't sure if he should answer. He knew he was too deep to turn back so he decided to stick to his mission as best he could. "I am from the future. Both the machine that sent me to this time and the device that shows the future events are made by the greatest scientists and inventors of my generation. I was sent by future society to discuss with you the ramifications of your actions this day". Roberto had practiced that speech so many times. He modified it a little, but it felt like it came out right. After all, the videos were sent to do the convincing, he was just the messenger.
Benjamin Franklin took the iPad from Roberto's hands while simultaneously asking "my boy, may I see this device?" Roberto could tell that the question was asked out of politeness and a response was not expected. Roberto was shocked at how quickly Franklin took to the interface with no instruction. In seconds he was showing the videos to others in the convention. Maybe success was still possible.
Looking around the room Roberto recognized many faces; John Rutledge, of course Madison and Hamilton, Franklin Pierce, Charles Pickney, Eldridge Gerry, so many more of the founders and framers he expected to see. These great figures of American history that he spent half his life studying and the other half preparing to meet and convince to save the future of America. He expected to see his hero George Washington, but strangely he was not present.
Hamilton put his hand on Roberto's shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "Child, thank you for your efforts. Your devotion is heroic. I must ask, can you return? Can you return to your time?"
Moments ago the room was alive with chatter as the attendees fascinated at the ipad. Now the room is silent, pregnant with anticipation to Roberto's response. Only Franklin stirred, but while his fingers moved across he screen his eyes fixed on Roberto. Since he didn't know which answer was preferred, Roberto opted for the truth. "No. The machine that sent me can only send me back. I must travel into the future the same method as everyone else in your time." The anxiety lifted. Roberto could not tell if it was relief, fascination, or disappointment, but the mood in the assembly had changed.
Ben Franklin put the iPad back in Roberto's hands with a genuine smile. Madison approached Roberto and said to all, "this hero has done a great and manly service to his country. Though his efforts must be secret from history, his deeds will be remembered in the document we craft here."
Roberto could not believe it. Was success at hand? Ben Franklin scribbled a note on a scrap of parchment and handed it to Roberto. "Take this to the Masonic Lodge here in Philadelphia. The brothers there will help you in establishing yourself in this time."
Hamilton then took him by the elbow and lead him out the front door. Roberto had wished so much to see the proceedings, but he knew that he was already far more successful than he could have dreamed and he didn't want to push it.
Stepping into the pleasant drizzle of a Pennsylvania September evening Roberto looked forward to his new life in early America. Having accurate maps of Philadelphia loaded into his iPad, he wanted to find a tavern and a room right away.
Suddenly shock struck Roberto in the pit of his stomach. Everything was deleted. All the video and map files all the backups. The device was completely blank of data, useless for anything but blocking the rain. Shock turned to terror as Roberto found the last thing he expected on his tablet. A wifi signal. The network name was "if you can read this, turn back". | Frank finished his video presentation feeling quite proud that the founders would see the errors of their ways.
James Madison stands up. "Much of this was to be expected I suppose. But not for the reasons you believe. Take slavery. Jefferson, myself and Washington have repeatedly denounced it, yet your 'history' videos make it sound like we were its biggest champions. The 3/5ths clause IS bad, but if we do not adopt it the southern states will break away and continue to use slavery regardless."
"This future Bill of Rights is most interesting", Madison continues with a nod toward Jefferson, "but seems redundant by defending that which does not need defending, implies power that federal government should not have."
"True", said Jefferson. "But as you saw from the video this country really gets dumb in a hurry and needs some protections spelled out in simple language. A term I shall refer to as 'idiocracy'. What I'm most curious about is how this country keeps getting into conflicts without constitutional declaration of wars? You went to all this hard work to create this section in the constitution and nobody wants to use it?"
"As far as the Bill of Rights goes, it pains me to see how this will (or should I saw was) corrupted by the 14th amendment. It meant well...to apply the same protections afforded citizens from the Federal government, also to their state and local governments...but has totally bogged down your federal court system and needlessly complicated the federal government."
"I see with the 16th amendment, your citizens have totally ignored the warnings from Madison and myself regarding the dangers of fractional banking. You can not have a stable banking system that mismatches long term high yield assets and short term low yield liabilities. It is inherently unstable and using a central bank to prop this up has lead to inflation, depressions and/or bank runs."
Madison jumped in. "What disturbs me most is there does not seem to be any principal of limited powers afforded to your modern government. We went to great pains to delegate for example the power to establish the post office in the constitution but by your modern interpretation of the 'Commerce Clause' and 'General Welfare' clause you can do WHATEVER you want with the federal government as everything has either a commercial or welfare component including the post office."
Jefferson wrapped up the conversion. "There will always be injustice in the world. Just because we don't support the Federal Government as a tool to fix all such injustice, doesn't mean we support the injustice itself. One has to me mindful that for every problem the federal government fixes, it can create many more through its incredible concentration of power and dis-economies of scale. This is why it is important to stay out these endless wars/meddling overseas and to trust states to make the correct policies."
"It will be best that you be on your way", said Madison to Frank. "We have a lot of work to make this puppy even more idiot proof then it is now and shouldn't be pestered further." | 2014-12-24T15:03:29 | 2014-12-24T14:48:03 | 363 | 24 |
[WP] A necromancer doesn't know that he can bring back the dead using magic, he just thinks he's a really good doctor. | I've always been a good surgeon. It started when I was young, you see. I always had a fascination with more... macabre pursuits. I would wander in the woods outside of my family's manor and if I were ever to come across a corpse of an animal dedicated from a fresh kill, well, I wouldn't be able to help myself. I wanted to see what made the creatures around me tick. Mother was never too pleased about my return, my fine shirt stained in blood. It turned from a childhood pursuit of analyzing animal corpses to performing improvised dissections out in the woods, scalpels of sharpened stone and forceps naught more than my own two hands.
My parents saw this as an excellent opportunity. I pursued the biological studies better than anything else during my education, enjoyed the class dissections staring fascinated while my peers squirmed and retched. I graduated my primary school with a goal. I wished to learn what made people tick, and moreover I wished to fix them when what made them tick stopped working. I went to university and majored in the anatomical studies and excelled, earning accolades from the university leadership, my professors and my peers. The mock trials were a cinch, the anatomical studies of cadavers fascinating, and the live practice... exhilarating.
At university I also met the love of my life, Julia. It was a chance encounter, we simply met eyes while I was studying for an exam in the university library and she was checking out books. I was stunned when our eyes met, although I know her eyes saw nothing more than a meeting of eyes with a stranger. I watched as she left the library, her gorgeous hair trailing behind her. I looked for her after that day, I wished to ask her to court. She denied at first, but my persistence let us be together.
We did much together, we spent time at her family home downtown, ventured through the park on long walks to her home, spent time at restaurants and cafes.... she always was a foodie. I always loved to draw her image wherever I went, the lessons taken in anatomical sketching put to excellent use. We both graduated university in the same year. I graduated with an early doctorate, my natural talents leading me to skip many requisite courses and I quickly set up my own practice. I was very successful, although Julia didn't take much noticed. Ah, Julia... ever focused on her career. I watched her grow and develop her own business, she took to art very well and was quite a successful artist in her own right, painting for lords and nobility that resided at the center of our town.
I became known as a miracle worker of sorts, capable of closing the most heinous of lacerations, fixing wounds other surgeons would have written off as irreparably fatal, taking care with my revolutionary methods of hand washing and my unique methods of conducting surgery, preventing heinous infection from taking root. Patients flocked to me far and wide, the old and the young, the ill and the well. But my love and fascination always went to Julia. I wished to know what made her tick.
I paid a visit to her home, wishing to show off my talents. She tried to turn me away once more, recreating our first meeting all those years ago the silly girl... but I entered into her home laughing away, recalling all the time we had spent together. But I was confused. She screamed and turned to run, she splashed hot tea she had prepared for my visit all over my face, scalding me. She grabbed the knife for her tea cakes and ran at me. Why was my darling treating me this way?
I came to covered in blood. My beloved who had turned so harshly after all the time we spent together this fateful night. When I had thrown rocks at her window at her old family home, beckoning her to come outside. When that hadn't worked, simply watching her elegance from outside. Walking her to her home after classes, watching over her from afar. Enjoying the same meals she enjoyed at her cafes, even if they weren't always to my taste... such wonderful times and yet she hurt me so. My thoughts turned to all of my sketches in my room at my home down the road... and I set to work.
It was not easy sequestering her corpse to my practice. The night guards were all about that night, but I made it safely and without incident. I could fix her, I knew I could. I had set still hearts beating again in the past after all. I laid her elegance in my theater and set to work. I connected old arteries, I transfused the correct blood type, I sewed her delightful checks back together, her face given a perfect smile. I put a glass eye in her one empty socket, and put her broken skull plate back into position. I worked and worked, and slowly she was becoming whole once more... even more perfect than before. She rose from the table, docile and mine. I knew I could do it. I've *always* been a good surgeon. | Doctor Jonathan prepared his tools; various vials of fluids with varying viscosity - from those with that of water to those with the viscosity of tar, but sickeningly green, syringes of bronze, tin and silver of the needlessly large kind and of course plenty of belts and ropes to restrain the subject as the procedures are performed without rendering the patient unconscious with ether.
The doctor tightened the belts on the patient's limbs - this time a boy with frostbitten hands and leg. A dreadful sight to those of the faint of heart, but Jonathan was not of such cut for his father was a butcher and he did study the books his mother left him - they contained the teachings on the human body and soul; from the inner workings of the human subject to how to save a recently deceased subject back to the Surface Realm. For him, his mother was the greatest doctor to ever exist in the Surface Realm.
While humming the song his mother taught him to steady the scalpel hand, Jonathan precisely cut intricate patterns on the frostbitten limbs of the boy. The boy writhed in pain as the steel blade danced on his flesh but Jonathan did not falter at the cries for his parents the boy gave out.
"Child, please remain quiet or my methods will not succeed in treating the ailment" Jonathan scolded the child
"B-Bu-But it HUUURTS!" Cried the boy
The blade has finished the first shape - a circle of various medicinal sigils with various herbs applied. The scalpel is dipped into the herbal tincture as per book's teachings.
The smells of a lavender field and the metallic smell of blood flowed throughout the room.
The humming resumes and the scalpel emerges once again from the herbal tincture to dance on the limbs anew. A wicked symphony of wailing and cries can be heard outside the apothecary.
"The left arm's frostbite is lesser than that of the right, thus a lesser pattern is necessary" The doctor mumbled to himself.
The metallic smell of blood begins to overtake the lavender within the airs of the room.
The scalpel is once again submerged into the herbal tincture. Jonathan began working on the largest of the boy's frostbites. The pattern had to be much more intricate than before, as it required three converging circles within an octagonal frame with the diameters of the three circles creating a triangle in the very center of the pattern. This pattern would begin the healing process once finished.
As Jonathan finished cutting the intricate shape into the dead flesh of the limb the boy's breathing became smoother: the pattern started working already.
Jonathan ignited the candles around the room and left the boy in it for the night.
/The light dances around the carcass/
/The flesh will awaken anew/
/The flesh will gnaw its way back to its soul/
/And drag it back onto the Surface World/
Once Jonathan came back to see the boy, the frostbite was gone and the boy's cheeks were a healthy pink. He has released the boy and led him to the mother awaiting outside.
"As it is for everyone else, make sure that the boy is not in contact with blessed waters for a week, for the surgery renders the subject vulnerable to it" Jonathan informed the mother.
"Blessings of the Great on your name Doctor!" The mother replied.
Maybe one day, Jonathan will learn of his mother's past... | 2020-06-21T14:06:17 | 2020-06-21T13:24:54 | 24 | 14 |
[WP] Mother Earth isn't just a metaphor. The entire Earth ecosystem is in fact a sapient whole. The only reason we don't see aliens is because Mother Earth is super xenophobic and kills any non-terran life that appears. Aliens learned this the hard way and are not sure how to handle humans. | Shawrek Louf of the Northern Spires wondered what exactly the Terrans could want. Their ambassadors had said defense technology. However, Shawrek found it hard to believe that Terrans of all people needed something to defend their planet. What had they called their enemy? The Lovosians. Well, if Shawrek wasn’t familiar with them, they were probably as new to interstellar matters as the Terrans. They were probably quite the warmongering bunch too if the Alliance hadn’t bothered with them.
In other words, they were infants puffing up their chests at mountains.
Shawrek didn’t feel the need to use a holofigure to make the Terran ambassador feel at ease. They looked quite similar. And being two feet taller than who you were negotiating with did have its advantages.
As he entered the room, the ambassador stood and gave a perfect bow. He had been studying. It was a rather pointless gesture, as far as Shawrek was concerned, but appreciated nonetheless.
He returned the bow. “Please be seated. Or stand, if you wish. This meeting will be short.”
That made the stocky bald man frown as he took a seat. The medals and such pinned to his coat caught Shawrek’s attention. Very nice. They had a similar custom in their own military.
“Mister Louf, we want to establish a mutually beneficial relationship,” the ambassador said. “I’m sure there’s something your people need. We are more than willing to supply any natural resources in exchange for weapons to defend ourselves.”
“Kelorak will be happy to trade once Terra establishes a secondary colony,” Shawrek said. “You must understand that asking an Alliance Planet to trade with no on-planet enforcers is out of the question.”
“Earth would be happy to accommodate any of your trade officials.”
“Terra would be, yes, but not Earth. The distinction is important, ambassador."
“With all due respect, Mr. Louf, I’m not sure I understand your meaning.”
That gave Shawrek pause. It couldn’t be. No, there was no way they didn’t know. Had they tamed it? No, none of the other parasites could ever be touched. Had none of the other officials told them? Well, perhaps the Terrans had only been meeting with the sickeningly polite Allies. Or the ones that never spoke outside of given subjects. Shawrek could very clearly picture the Borians saying, “Well, you never asked.”
He sighed. “Ambassador, you do understand what your planet *is*, correct?”
The man raised an eyebrow. “What are you implying?”
Shawrek started laughing. So much made sense now! Why the Terrans had been desperately looking for weapons, why they set up immigration channels, why they thought themselves a backwater where nobody wanted to go. Yes, why would someone go through all that effort if they knew their planet was a monstrosity? That it would kill any visitors? To any space-faring race, it should’ve been obvious. Their sensors should have developed enough to see the *thing* at the core of their world. Had they gotten lucky with the other basics?
The ambassador stood up. “If we are finished here--"
“Hold on, ambassador,” Shawrek said. “I apologize. It’s just..” He chuckled. “We will give you some sensor technology. When you return home, aim the sensor at your planet and take a *good, long look*. It will all make sense.”
The ambassador clenched his teeth as he nodded. “We will accept your gift with the utmost gratitude.”
Shawrek nodded. “Come back once you establish a secondary colony. Far away from Earth. The Alliance will welcome the Terrans with open arms.”
#
Four months later.
Shawrek smiled as he saw the news posting. The Lovosians had brought their entire fleet to the Terran system and were wiped out within the hour. A thread-like beam of golden light was responsible. The same beam had destroyed a great many innocent travelers. The Alliance had long ago quarantined the system, of course, but there was no stopping the occasional fools. They couldn't enforce every danger zone.
In an interview with a Terran general, they said they lured the Lovosians to their system through simple taunting. The occasional fools indeed.
Shawrek had a feeling he’d be meeting with that ambassador again very soon. | Gia.
The Galactic Council was in utter chaos, turmoil at every turn with delegates shouting each other down as old and new grudges raise to the boiling points, several incidents occur including the unfortunate incident between predator and prey species with one predator dead of poisoning and a prey species terribly mauled, the Ambassador from Aldaren-3 paused at the podium " please , please can we have order? Order! I demand ORDER!" Various translations go over the radio until the sound in the cavernous hall begins to lower in volume......." as I have stated we have evidence the Terrans home world is a symbiote , one of the largest examples ever encountered, only one other was larger and more complex, the Galactic center neural net, a cluster of systems near the Galactic core that have achieved consciousness while orbiting a super massive blackhole, when we attempted to make contact and land a massive electrical discharge destroyed our Liaisons ship, every attempt was met by deadly electrical disturbances.
The little girl was singing a song of silliness and childs play, words that have no meaning or reason, what an observer would see was the effect of her voice, birds and insects and small creatures flocked to her covering and cleansing her, even healing her, flowers bloom around her, each trying to out do each other for beauty and fragrance just to catch her attention .
The Monks from the nearby monastery were brought to her home to investigate the rumors of a goddess performing miracles, the abbot, a man of close to 90 years of age and considered the wisest man in the district sat and meditated with the young girl, she played with out care and concern and eventually sought a seat in his lap, she spoke" I can hear the world speaking to me," it tells me that you want to know how I stopped that elephant from destroying my father's crops, I simply told them that we needed those crops so we didn't go hungry and I pointed out some ripe fruit nearby and they agreed to leave, she idly played with his prayer beads as she described how she stopped a large bull with a simple request, another incident were she calmly talked a disturbed women into not harming herself, then with a single touch the woman's pain and madness left her permanently, she now attends the little girl as servant and apostle, while she spoke he watched the world around them respond to her words and presence, vines and flowers reaching for her, seeking her touch and surrounded by a riot of colors and blooms, small animals and creatures brought food and gifts to her while the old man watched in silence, snakes and reptiles crawled over their bodies but she showed no distress or concern, he gently brushed away some bees from her face and looked deeply into her eyes and saw...........all of existence......past.....present....future, the depths of her soul where on display, great beauty and terrible violence lay side by side with love and compassion, then, complete understanding, enlightenment. | 2020-11-23T11:31:18 | 2020-11-23T10:59:44 | 46 | 19 |
[WP] people are often impressed by your perfect memory. You know your memory is actually pretty bad; however, the universe is constantly changing to match what you believe. You just started taking a physics exam... | *Fill in the blank:*
***Law of conservation of mass***
***Law of conservation of matter***
***Law of conservation of _______***
I bit the inside of my cheek again. I really should have studied for this one. I'm pretty sure it had something to do with a finite thing. Like... temperature? Maybe it was a more physical term. Maybe it was anatomy? I'm not even sure what that is, but I was pretty sure that the conservation thing ended with a -y. I wrote in anatomy. The room shook a bit like the Earth was shifting to adjust its weight, but I think I was just imagining it.
"Five more minutes," Mr. Shefner said, knocking the nub of his arm on the desk.
Five minutes? I began to sweat, but I was on the last short answer question.
***Define the law you filled in above***
Ah, crud. I scribbled as fast as I could.
*The idea that anatomy doesn't leave this world, but instead is always transferred from one thing to the next. It is always conserved over..*
Something felt off, but the more I wrote, the more I believed in my own stories. My hand started cramping. I wished I had more energy in it. As if a placebo kicked in, energy restored itself into my hand out of nowhere. I flexed it a couple of times to be sure and went back to finishing the statement.
*..a system. No anatomy can be said to be lost, just placed somewhere else--*
"AAHHH!" I jumped in my seat when the guy next to me screamed and slapped his arm.
"Jimmy?" Mr. Shener asked, looking peeved. "Is there a bug or something, please don't distract the-- *Dear Lord!*" he slapped his good hand over his mouth to hold back his lunch as Jimmy held up his arm that had two hands on it. One young, one significantly older.
"Jimmy, what is--"
"I don't know! I don't know! It just showed up! Get it Ahh!" he slapped it a few more times with his lonely hand. In his hysteria, Jimmy flopped out of his desk and Mr. Shefner ran around the room to tend to him.
"That.. it looks like my old hand!" Shefner said in shock. Whatever he said, I completely ignored to take a glance at Jimmy's test. *Energy!* That was the name of the law. I scribbled out my old answer and began writing the new one. As soon as I did, the cramping in my hand came back, but I wasn't about to risk not finishing in time.
"Where did it go, Jimmy!?" the teacher screamed.
"I don't know! It just--" I heard a head thud to the floor. He probably passed out right when I finished the test.
"Swagster, can you take him to the nurse's office? I think he was playing some sort of prank and went too far," he said to me. I looked at him quizzically and realized he was referring to me with what I wrote as my name on my test. Must have taken a glance at it and thought it funny to call me that.
"Sure thing," I said, getting up, "I'm sure he's fine, though." When I knelt down, he woke up, his face devoid of the conflict in it from moments before.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," he said, getting up quickly.
"Was that some sort of magic trick to try and lighten the mood of the test, Jimmy? Because it wasn't funny," Shefner said sternly.
"No, it was..." he looked confused like he was trying to put it together. He was a good actor. I gave him a lighthearted smile.
"You're crazy, man," I laughed, patting him on the back.
His eye twitched as a look of insanity took over his face.
_______________________________________________
For more stories, come check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer! | Okay Chet, time to crush this exam.
First Question:
**What is the greatest speed achievable in the universe?**
Well, my 'Stang red-lines at 126 mph. Nothing is faster than that.
Just when I was about to get to question 2, everything slammed against the wall. It was just like when I slammed on the brakes after doing a bunch of donuts in my Mustang. But like, if *everything* had the brakes slammed on. The teacher told us to not worry about the test, because that had to be a terrorist attack or something. Just stay put and wait for the cops to rescue us. I'm no pussy. I don't need to get rescued and terrorists don't scare me. I told the teacher I would kick some terrorist butt and he would have to give me an A in the class. He started to mouth off, but then he remembered that that was the rule. Stupid teacher. I got outside, and it was night-time. But it shouldn't be night-time. The street-lamps weren't even on. Luckily, I have a flashlight-key-chain. I turned it on, and... I could see the light leave. Like, normally, it just lights-up whatever right away, but now it looked like water coming out of a fire-hose... but with light. Weird.
Just then, a group of terrorist just popped out of nowhere. I knew they were terrorists because they looked just like the bad-guys in 24. I had no idea that terrorists had teleporters. Probably stole them from the army. Then they saw me and started reaching for their weapons. But I busted some Kung Fu I saw in a sweet movie one time and sent them all flying on their butts. I always thought I'd be able to do Kung Fu if I really had to.
I found the lead terrorist and said, "Surrender. My name is Chet Huntington III and I make the rules." I don't know why I said that. Just sounded bad-ass. and then I reached into my back-pocket, pulled out a Naddie Light, and shot-gunned it while the army teleported in to take the terrorists away.
Then some geezer in a lab-coat grabbed me and told me I was messing with the laws of physics. I said, "Whatever, Bill Nye." And it was Bill Nye. But it wasn't before. And that's when I realized... anything I say becomes true. I am... The One. | 2019-10-08T19:38:16 | 2019-10-08T19:10:51 | 406 | 208 |
[WP] Your witchcraft professor gave everyone in your class a seemingly impossible task: create your very own spell. When you nervously turned your assignment in, a look of horror spread across professor's face as they read it. You had no idea why. | The students filed into the room slowly, some clearly uncomfortable in the more modern clothing that had, for the moment, replaced the tradition student robes. The front of the room was dominated by a stack of crates, each containing a small chicken, in varying levels of calm.
"Silence," the professor began, gesturing toward the crates. "Today's test will be scored entirely on the practical. You have each had two weeks to design your elemental suit, and to tune it for today's task. 50 points if the chicken dies, an additional 20 points for avoiding obvious distress, and the final 30 points for, and I wish to stress this to you, Miss Havers, the amount of usable meat left on the bird after the standard Decruft charm has been applied. Automatic failures for miscasting Decruft, including deliberately casting something other than Decruft, and for use of a non-elemental or non-original suit to complete the assignment." The chickens calmed at the gesture, blissfully unaware of their impending doom. "Now, as I call you..."
"Rebecca," the teacher called as she place the first chicken on the scale. A mousy girl, with hesitant steps and glasses that made her eyes seem the size of saucers, stood and walked to the front if the class. She made a short sharp gesture, whispering under her breath. The chicken's head fell off, neatly severed by a blade of Air. "Antacroix," she intoned, and the feathers, skin and bones all neatly piled themselves in the garbage container next to the desk.. The teacher looked down and said "2kg, no distress, 100 points."
"Tyler," she called, placing an identical chicken on the scale. The ginger stepped up and clapped his hands together dramatically, as twin hands of stone pulverized the bird's head. "Antacroix," he added, sending the bones to join their compatriots in the garbage. "2 kg, no distress, 100 points."
"Jessica". A clenched fist and a snarled "Fuegomaximo" later, the teacher sniffed and said, "400 grams, some distress, 69 points."
"Robert" "Glugtegra.," he intoned, the chicken panicking as its tiny lungs filled with water. "2kg, Severe distress, 80 points.
"Alexander," she called next. Without getting up, he snapped his fingers and the chicken made a "wark?" noise before falling over. "Antacroix," he added with a yawn. The teacher pressed her lips together and said "2 kg, no distress, necromancy, 0 points." Alexander jumped to his feet and yelled. "Necromancy? That was a Stone suit!" The teacher scowled "Stone Heart is still a necromancy suit, and not original to boot. See me after class. James!!"
===
The Dean harumphed. "This should be easy enough to determine," he said, his titanic shoulders moving like bridge supports. "What did the Thaumeter register?" Miss Factial scowled again. "The Thaumeter registered .15, which is consistent with a small conjuration cantrip.. The Dean nodded. "And Stone Heart would register 76 if cast by a competent amateur. I think we can safely say that while Alexander does have an unusual background, he isn't eighty times as efficient as the ranking Necromancers on the Council. I'm going to dismiss the accusation of plagiarism. Did you bring another clone?"
Miss Fractia nodded, and placed it, and a scale, on the Dean's desk. "Repeat your spell, Alexander, but just the first one." Alexander snapped his fingers, and once again the chicken made a 'wark?' sound and expired. The Dean pulled on a pair of glaves and breathed 'Sectus Severus, splodeo'. Lines of force criscrossed the skin of the dead bird and it burst into the air, the dozens of pieces slowly revolving around a central axis, maintaining perfect relation to each other. He stared into the heart of the carcass for most of a minute before pointing to the head. "Here's the cause of death," he said. "Poor thing's brain is half-crushed and half just gone. I'm not sure how you do it with a cantrip, but that's not soul work. How'd you do it boy?"
Alexander sighed, "You aren't going to understand. It's based on something from my home world."
"Try me"
"The suit creates a very small piece of stone, but gives it an extent less than its own Event Horizon and a minuscule duration . The gravity generated inside the skull compacts some of the tissue into nothingness and liquefies the rest before the stone vanishes, preventing the destruction of the world."
"Oh." | I got it online, the spell, a sequence of logographic runes that looked complicated enough, with a few logograms I recognized as conjunctions, so there were at least a few clauses, but not so complicated that my professor would suspect I'd stolen it. From my stolen peeks at other student's scrolls, it was of similar length and grammatical structure to everyone else's spells, but where he glanced at the other's scrolls and waved them away, he asked me to stand in front of his desk while he read mine.
He squinted at my scroll through the lower half of his bifocals and shook his head to refocus a few times before it finally signified. His posture decayed, his shoulders relaxing and rolling in, his upper back bending forward into a slouch, his whole body leaning into his chair's armrests. When the chair started to spin, he tried to stabilize himself with the desk, but his grip was weak. The rest of the class had by then quieted and were staring at our professor splayed out on the floor with the shoulders of his suit coat almost swallowing his head. Because others stood and walked closer, I had an opportunity to recede to the crowd's rear. I did not know if anyone noticed that it was my spell he read.
Someone else, not me, because I didn't do anything and just tried to be small and unnoticeable, fetched Professor Greeves. She herded us into the corner of the room and paced toward the face-down scroll, right next to the body. Through thick purple-tinted glasses, she read the spell and muttered under her breath about the gods and may they have mercy on someone. She asked all of us, "Who turned it in?"
I looked around at every face. All of them faced forward; I was the only one looking around. No one said anything, and I was grateful.
She began to call out numbers. At the top of the scroll I handed in, I wrote the number 24, as in student number 24. As she counted and the students identified themselves, I realized there was no way out. Professor Reeves knew better than to ask for 24. By asking for everyone else, she was going to surround me, and when I was surrounded they would seize me, and when I was seized they would take me, and where they would take me...
I hopped on a desk and leapt across the room for her purple glasses. I ripped them off her face and turned the scroll toward her. I held her eyelids open so she had to read it. She became limp.
There were the other students to take care of. I could not understand the spell as written, which may be why I was immune to it, but I could pronounce the symbols. I inhaled from my diaphragm and pushed out from it, delivering a full-throated incantation into the room, flooding it with the spell. But only half of the class, the better students, fell to the ground. The others remained. The younger boy with braces fixed his eyes on me as he paced, stepping carefully over the bodies of our classmates, toward the fire alarm, then pulled it.
When security arrived, our professor grumbled to them. He struggled himself up from the floor, surveyed the room, and started massaging his temples. It was not, as I feared, a murder spell. Just a knockout one. They expelled me anyway, obviously. | 2021-04-02T01:22:24 | 2021-04-01T19:01:18 | 302 | 132 |
[WP] You're Barack Obama. 4 months into your retirement, you awake to find a letter with no return address on your bedside table. It reads "I hope you've had a chance to relax Barack...but pack your bags and call the number below. It's time to start the real job." Signed simply, "JFK." | Part 1 | [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/jraywang/comments/6b55yn/the_weight_of_a_hero_part_2/) | [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/jraywang/comments/6b5hy0/the_weight_of_a_hero_part_3/) | [Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/jraywang/comments/6b61h1/the_weight_of_a_hero_part_4/) | [Part 5](https://www.reddit.com/r/jraywang/comments/6b74ri/the_weight_of_a_hero_part_5/) | [Part 6](https://www.reddit.com/r/jraywang/comments/6bbwac/the_weight_of_a_hero_part_6/) | [Epilogue](https://www.reddit.com/r/jraywang/comments/6bbz9g/the_weight_of_a_hero_epilogue/)
---
A prank? Barack stared at the letter. If it was a prank, it was a damn good one. The signature was exquisite--looping and elongated, a near mirror image of JFK's real signature. Well, if someone went through this much effort for a simple joke, he might as well entertain them.
He looked around to make sure neither his wife or daughter was around. He walked into the living room just in case and dialed the number.
It rang once and clicked. "Barack."
It was John's voice. For a second, Barack thought he was listening to old speeches played in fuzzy, warmly-colored screens.
"Who is this?" he asked.
"I'm John F. Kennedy, the 35th President of the United States. The time to serve your nation is now."
"No, you're not," Barack said. This was getting less and less funny with every word. It wasn't that funny to begin with. "Impersonating a President in any serious attempt is a grave offense."
"Look outside." The call cut.
Barack peeled back the drapes and peeked through the blinds at a sunny May day. Standing at the end of his driveway, right outside his gate, was John F. Kennedy. A jet black limo sat behind the man. He beckoned Barack and slipped back inside the tinted windows of his car.
---
The 44th President of the United States gripped the cool brass doorknob. Already, sweat was accumulating on his hands and neck. This was dumb. He shouldn't go, he knew, but JFK had been a personal hero to him. It was under his leadership that humanity reached the moon, he stood up to Russia at the height of their power, he was a man Obama would've given anything to meet. And now he had the chance.
He opened the door and stepped into the sunlight.
Secret Service agents watched him go. None tried to stop him. They wouldn't even meet his eyes. The front gate opened like curtains in a stage play, revealing the jet black of JFK's limousine.
The car door swung open. Barack licked his arid lips and swallowed what little moisture he had in his mouth. He got in.
---
The hum of the car was the only noise between the two Presidents. Obama simply stared. JFK looked exactly like in the photos. The man hadn't aged. He tried scanning John's face for any misplaced flap of skin, any misdrawn shadow, anything to give away the mask. There were none.
The car stopped and suddenly, the windows flickered to black. They had been TV screens, projecting fake streets and pedestrians!
"Barack Obama," John said turning to face him.
From this up close, there was no mistaking who that voice belonged to.
"Why did you get into this car?"
Barack's eyes flitted to the locked doors on either side of him and then faced John directly. "You said it was time to serve my nation."
Neither man blinked. At last, John spoke, "Well answered Mr. President. But I'm afraid that was a lie."
Obama's heart skipped. He clutched his leg, but refused to show weakness in the face of his captor.
"It is not time to serve America, but humanity as a whole."
"What do you mean?"
"In 1961, I gave a speech called We Choose to go to the Moon. Are you familiar with it?"
Barack nodded. Most historians claimed that was the moment that a moon landing was inevitable. With a few choice words, John had mobilized the unstoppable force of human will to reach a land that had always looked down upon them.
"I gave that speech for a very specific reason. Humanity needed to ascend, but not to a physical place. Initial probes of the moon had returned an element we are unfamiliar with, but this is the element that has kept me young, it grants me certain abilities that I have not shared with the world."
"So you did get shot?"
"I also did die."
Barack chewed on his lips. If this was still a prank, it was far more elaborate than anything he'd ever experienced. "So what is this element?"
"One without a name and soon it will be the only element worth mentioning. The Russians know its there. The Chinese probably have some idea. Already, there are factions within both countries, powerful enough to influence their space program. These factions are not in the best interests of humanity."
"So what is it that you want from me?"
"You have proven your devotion to our nation through your eight grueling years of Presidency. Because of its secrecy, we cannot employ our strengths at full capacity, rather, we must do so through single people willing to live and die for the protection of the human race."
"Like some sort of super hero?"
"Not like. Barack Obama, there exists a game far greater than any petty foreign politics. The winner of this game will dictate the future of our race. If you decline my offer, I will drop you off back home and we will never speak again. But if you so choose to accept, you will have the crushing weight of the human race on your shoulders, you will have none of the gratitude or reward. It will be a path through hell itself. So ask not whether you wish to be a hero, but whether you can survive as one."
Obama clenched his jaw. He had his wife and two daughters to think of. He had finally retired from the most stressful period of his life. But he had become the President not to leave a legacy, but to fulfill his duty.
He nodded. "I accept."
The doors of the car unlocked and automatically opened. There would be no turning back now.
---
---
/r/jraywang for 2+ stories a day, continuations of prompts by popular request, and more!
| Obama slowly lowers the letter as a drop of sweat starts to slide down his forehead, his heart pounding.
"Michelle." He says. "I have to step out for a minute. I'll be right back, you can go back to sleep." She mumbled something in return, but it wasn't coherent enough to understand.
Obama walks outside with his phone and the letter, and begins to dial the number. Before he types the last digit, he shuts his phone off and grabs his head with both hands in stress. This call could mean anything, after all. Obama paces back and forth while alternating rubbing his sweaty hands together and wiping the sweat off his forehead, as he smokes a cigarette he lit to help with stress. When the cigarette burns out he tosses it to the ground, steps on it to extinguish the flame, and tells himself simply "you can do this Barack. You were the president of the United States, for gods sake. TWICE." With that, he picked up the phone.
"Hello Barack." A voice said, before Obama had even said anything. "We've been expecting your call."
"Who is this?" Obama sternly asked.
"As the letter said, this is JFK. We have a job for you. Meet us on the corner of East and Third at 0300 hours Tuesday of next week. Come alone, and tell no one what you're doing. Tell no one about this call. Tell no one about the letter. We will know if you talk. Do not talk."
"B-but wait..." Obama stuttered. "Next Tuesday is my wife's birthday..."
"We are aware of that, Barack. Sacrifices have to be made in order to succeed." Replied the strange voice. Whoever it is was, they were definitely using a voice changer. Obama started to think, and he couldn't even tell if he had been talking to a man or a woman.
Days pass. Obama stressed uncontrollably over this, worried about what might happen, and worried more about how his wife would feel if he for any reason missed her birthday. He had no choice, though. He had to go to that meeting, to discover what this was all about.
The time has come.
Obama slowly walks to the stop sign on the corner of East and Third, at 0300 hours, on the correct day. Everything was as he was told. He received another call.
"Barack." The voice said. "Do not move. Do not make a sound. Do not even lower the phone from your face." Before Obama could ask why, he noticed multiple bright dots shimmering on his body. Snipers, no doubt. Obama didn't dare move. For two whole hours he was forced to sit like this.
At the dawn of the third hour, the lasers disappeared. A black unmarked car drove up to where he was sitting. He heard a voice that told him to approach the vehicle, but to not get in.
Obama walked up to the window, and stuff waiting for what might happen next.
The window rolled down.
"HAHAHAHAHA!" laughed Biden. "You should have seen all the faces you made! Oh and how stressed you looked! You seemed like you were gonna have a heart attack! HAHAHAHAHA!"
"Joe?" Replied Obama, angrily. "I don't understand. Explain, now."
"Easy, easy." Said Biden. "It was just a prank bro! Just a little joke! You know. Leave a mystery letter, give out mysterious instructions, have you sit in an uncomfortable posture for THREE HOURS. IT WAS HILARIOUS!"
"I don't understand." Obama looked puzzled. "What about all the threats? Why drag me out here at this time and day, and on my wife's birthday no less?"
Biden continued to explain, still laughing. "Because it's FUNNY! You were so freaked out! I'm sure you're more afraid to go home now than before, because your wife will be waking up any moment now to an empty bed, which is the BEST PART! AHAHAHAHA!"
Obama wanted to hit Biden. "But what about JFK? Why the blocked caller IDs? Why would you do this?"
Biden continued to laugh. "JFK? JFK?! That was your only hint you bozo - Just F$:king Kidding! Because it was a joke! What, did you think this had something to do with the old president? It's dead, Jim. I mean Barack."
Obama was so outraged at this point. He could no longer think of anything to say, so he didn't. He turned around and walked away, fearing how his wife might act when she learns the truth. He hadn't spoken of it, but she had noticed him acting awfully weird the last week.
"Biden." Obama thought to himself. "I will have my revenge."
To be continued in Pranking Obama 2: Electric Boogaloo | 2022-06-24T19:04:50 | 2017-05-14T11:15:12 | 3,481 | 30 |
[WP] You're a 250 year old vampire. You've found that living as a recluse and faking your death every 70 years or so is actually fairly easy. You've consistently fooled everyone except for your mortal enemy - Keith from the IRS | "You realize that you haven't been paying your taxes for the past 210 years?"
"Yes."
"Alright then..." Keith scribbled something down on his clipboard. "You were intentionally evading taxes..."
"What? I said that I know I didn't pay taxes, I didn't say that it was intentional!"
"Well... Was it intentional?"
I sighed. "Yes, it was intentional."
"I guess you'll have to pay or be locked up for a long time."
"Why do you even care? You've probably spent more money trying to track me down than you will earn by fining me!"
"The law is the law."
I crossed my arms. "I guess I'll just have to become a law-abiding citizen now. Pay my taxes and all that. Too bad I can't immigrate to another country."
"Yeah, you definitely won't be leaving the States. Not a single country has given you a visa yet." Keith smirked. "That's the thing with you blood-suckers. You can't just enter another country illegally. You need to be invited."
Wait... What did he just say?
I got a great idea, like a light bulb just lit up right above my head. I put on my angry face. "What do you mean... blood-suckers?"
Keith looked at me, all confused. Makes sense. Its pretty obvious that blood sucker refers to how vampires suck blood out of their victims. "Well... You're a vampire, correct?"
I shot up out of my chair. "So you think its okay for you to refer to me using a racial slur?"
Keith's confusion changed to fright. He raised his hands in front of him, as if in self defense. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that it was a slur!"
"It's 2018, Keith! You can't just say things like that!"
He dropped onto his knees. "Please, sir, forgive me..."
I waved my finger at him. "I will sue you, and make sure that you'll lose your job for being such a racist bastard!"
This seems to be working. Keith is on the verge of tears at this point. "Please, I'll do anything..."
I put my finger away. "Anything?"
"Yes... Anything."
"Alright... Can you make me completely exempt from taxes?"
Keith looked me right in the eyes. I don't think he liked my question very much. "No, sir, I don't think I can. Is there anything else I can do?"
I thought for a moment or two, rubbing my chin to make Keith think that I didn't actually think of this beforehand. "Yes, there is."
He got back up on his two feet again. "What is it?"
Time for the big plan. "I want you to drive us both down to the Canadian Border. You cross first."
"What should I do when I'm there?"
I grinned. "Invite me in."
-------------
**Thanks for reading, feedback and criticism is very appreciated.**
r/WrittenText | “What are these? Look at this!”
Keith tapped on the clipboard, looking more annoyed each second.
“You owe the government $750,000 in taxes, which is absolutely a crime, for your information.”
He threw down the clipboard in disgust.
How did he find out? Over two-and-a-half lives I’ve amassed this sum. How could he have discovered my multigenerational lifespan?
I attempt to reason with Keith.
“Er, this isn’t possible. It says I have amassed this from 1863 all the way until now. That’s...”
I do the math in my head.
“156 years. Which is more than any human I’ve ever heard of.”
He picks up the clipboard and throws it at my head, and I dodge with relative ease.
“You big potato head! Taxes are absolute! They are god, they are supreme divinity among rash mortals!”
He takes taxes way too seriously.
“I come from the SIRS, you ding ding. The Supernatural Internal Revenue Service. We know you are a vampire, so pay the hell up.”
Oh, bother. Gonna have to start anew, again. I feel under my sleeves, and unravel my claws, and point it towards him.
“Bye, Keith. Sorry for this.”
He pulls out an amulet.
“Garlic, you moron. Surprise, motherfucker!”
Crap. Time to pay up.
| 2018-07-25T08:37:11 | 2018-07-25T07:21:37 | 1,013 | 185 |
[WP] It is the 24 th of july, your birthday, and also the day that humanity is going to reach 10 billion inhabitants. You are watching the number grow, live on a site. Just as it's about to hit 10 billion, at 9,999,999,999... It Hits 2. You are still alive. | Another year of hunger and war past, and another year of more of the same..
...Or so I thought.
"It's almost there!" Allison squealed with delight, almost knocking over the monitor. I sighed and turned back to the screen. The number read 9,999,987,573 and was rising rapidly.
"Plus a hundred and twelve, and minus nineteen every second..." I muttered angrily under my breath.
"What was that?"
"Every second, about one hundred and twelve people are born, and about nineteen die." I said to her, "That rounds out to about ninety three additional people on this earth every second." Allison grinned ear to ear.
"I know! It's awesome isn't it?!"
"No it's not." I explained, "This world is practically out of everything. Oil, food, and land... not to mention patience." Allison just stared at me as if I had three heads. I shook my head. "Don't you get it? That number is why there is so much famine in the world! It's why the US is at war with six countries right now. SIX!" Allison opened her mouth to say something, closed it, then opened it again.
"But more life is a good thing isn't it? Why do you always have to be so cynical?!"
"Because more people just means more people who will suffer Ally! Our parents are both literally Senators! We couldn't have gotten a luckier draw unless we were born to the queen of England! We don't see the hurt that goes on outside the borders." Allison crossed her arms, torn between two perspectives of life.
"Can't we at least enjoy this moment first, then get on to the cake?" Cake... that's right. Today was my birthday as well. Not as if it was anything special though. There were a hundred and twelve more that I had to share it with every second.
"Ally..." I started, but she cut me off with a finger to my lips.
"SHHHH!" She hissed, "It's almost there!" Scornful though I was at the number, I couldn't bring myself to look away.
...9,999,999,063.
...9,999,999,574.
...9,999,999,836.
...2.
I blinked. It took a second to realize what had changed, and once I realized what it was, the number began to hold real fear for me. It was the cheering in the other room and from outside the window.
It had gone silent.
A thousand thoughts raced through my mind at once, but there were only three that mattered at the moment.
First, was the silence. The news announcer in the other tab I had open had stopped mid sentence. The cheering that had built up to a roar, muffled by my sound-proof door had ceased in an instant.
Second was what the number meant. The tally was based on the number of brainwaves that matched that of a human's, coordinated and censused by an array of satellites launched in 2022'. That meant that either there was a massive malfunction on a global scale... or there were only two living breathing humans left on earth.
And the third... I shut my eyes tight. There was one more thought that would determine my entire future. If I was still here... and there were two... that meant...
I resisted the urge to peek to my side. It didn't matter anyway though. I could hear her breathing, I was just choosing to ignore it. Eventually, Allison spoke up.
"Jack? It's just a glitch right?" Her tone got progressively more desperate the longer I was silent, "Please tell me it was a glitch."
I turned and looked at her, slowly shaking my head. Her eyes grew wide.
The third thought that I had... was the realization that Allison, my best friend for almost my whole life... the only other remaining person on earth besides myself... was also my first cousin.
~Amond P. Hawes-Khalifa | I sit down in my recliner with my coffe and turn on the news. It's still early in the morning, my zen hour, I have the whole apartment to myself. The talking heads are all yammering on about the same thing today, population statistics. Each one discussing the geopolitical impact of humanity's expansion out of control. In the bottom right corner where they always place event count down clock is a population counter. Using an algorithm and technology with a name straight from star trek, it supposedly heralds the future in statistical probability prediction software. I'm only paying half attention when the screen flashes with a breaking news screen and the number 10,000,000,000 in bold letters scrolls across the screen for just a moment, and then drops to 2 and the screen stays that way. I figure that there must be technical difficulties at the studio, so I change channels. An empty studio, I switch again....empty. I go to a morning talk show.....nothing. Live channel after channel and nothing. I turn to call towards the bedrooms when the silence is shattered by a caucaphony of crashes and explosions outside. I run to the window overlooking the street and I see rising pile of vehicles colliding at the nearby intersection. I stare on in horror when a fireball erupts in the distance. I can't get a good view on it but i hear similar explosions in the distance.
"HONEY!" I scream and tear off down the hall. I almost knock the door off its hinges and look down at the small bed......empty. I look across the room at the crib.....NOTHING!
"HONEY!" I scream again and run further down the hall into our room. In hear the shower.
"H-HONEY!?" I yell breathlessly as I open the bathroom door......empty.
I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I can't breathe.
I burst through the apartment door and make my way to the stairs and run to the roof. I run out on to the roof and the sound of the city is deafening. The crunch of metal is dieing off, only to be replaced by the occasional scream of turbine engines and explosion of jet liners. I look towards the airport and see planes that were on approach wildly banking and slamming into the cityscape. I walk to the edge and look down onto the streets....no one.... I scan across the roof tops..... no one......i hear no sirens, no screams, no people. I look down onto the street again.....
"honey" I whisper and lean forward.
Edit: some spelling correction. | 2017-02-28T20:31:22 | 2017-02-28T18:37:38 | 1,962 | 58 |
[WP] You are the woman currently beating parked cars with a rake outside of the apartment complex I live in. Explain yourself. | You look out your window and you see a woman. She is walking around the street outside your home hitting cars with a rake.
Look again.
You look out your window and you see a woman. She is terrified, carrying the only weapon she was able to find before racing out of her home. She beats at her surroundings fruitlessly to stave off an unseen evil.
Look again.
You look out your window and you see a woman. She is in the throes of a rage. The bank has foreclosed on her car, she has been fired from her job and her husband has been cheating on her. She has no friends and no one to talk to. She needs to vent if she is to remain sane. A rake and some cars strike her as a small price to pay.
Look once more.
You look out your window and you see a woman. She smoked methamphetamine once, on a dare, the day she graduated high school. Now her skin is all welts and sores. Her teeth waggle in her sloppy gums. She has run out of feeling good. *Perhaps* she thinks *there's some cash in these cars*. She picks up a rake and goes to work.
A window is a quantum threshold, a quantum vantage point through which we observe the world - a double slit experiment of domestic proportions.
Standing behind your curtains, you hear a ruckus outside. Metal on metal. You wonder what could possibly be going on. You decide to look. In looking you become observer and, in observing, you change that which you observe.
Like Schrödinger's cat, the woman outside your window was not defined until you observed her in her madness/desperation/terror/rage. The woman was all these things, all at once, and none of these things. She was only a cloud of probability slamming a rake into cars.
But by observing her, the probability field that is the woman collapses in on itself and picks a reality.
You think, *but she was out there already, she exists herself, before I witnessed her*
Was she? Look again.
You look out your window and see a rake floating through the air. It slams itself into nearby cars of its own accord, with no outside influence whatsoever.
We believe the world is as it is because we are creatures of habit and children of pattern. We assume, because we have seen reality behave a certain way many times before, that reality *is* a certain way, follows certain rules, by default.
We hew to this delusion because the alternative is too frightening, too destabilizing, to consider: that we are, each of us, alone in a vacuum tube, linked together only by shared interpretations of the chance reflections of photons on objects we will never truly see, the faint pressure of atoms from sounds we can never truly hear.
It is this amalgam of our cumulative observations which defines our shared reality, as well as each other. In that sense, the woman exists *because* you looked. Her motivations, her entire being, are defined by your seeing her.
There is a sound of metal on metal outside your window. You decide *not* to look. There is no woman.
What I mean to say, if I mean to say anything, is that, whatever the woman's explanation for why she acts the way she does, in a very real sense she owes you a debt of gratitude, for to be seen is to exist and, without an observer, we are nothing.
*****
*****
## r/LFTM
Welp that was a weird thought experiment that never coalesced into anything really :)
| They were everywhere. The squirrels. Chittering, mocking me with their tiny clutching claws and their razor incisors.
I'd chased them all through my apartment, the entire infestation of them, their furry tales cocked high in haughty defiance. They laughed at me, avoiding my trusty rake weapon of choice, but I knew if I could hook one or two of them the rest would get the message and leave me in peace.
I woke up to them on my chest, I found their fur in everything I ate. It clogged my drains. I could hear their chittering as I tried to fall asleep, I could feel them scratching with their cruel little nails as I tried to read or watch TV. For months on end. Sometimes they all just stood on their hind legs and watched me with their dead little eyes, daring me to get up and do something or try to catch them.
No more. At first, I'd been afraid of the squirrels. Now I'm furious. I would destroy them.
I smacked and smacked with the rake, striking a wall, taking out a lamp, shattering a vase, knocking over a coat rack, but they avoided it, laughing their chitters at me, baring their buck teeth at me and hissing.
I managed to get them all rounded up. I opened my front door and chased them all the way out to the parking lot. I was in my robe. I didn't care. Victory was at hand. Soon I'd be able to truly sleep like I hadn't in months.
They were crawling on the cars now. They didn't think I'd have the courage to risk damaging someone else's property.
They had another thing coming.
r/adriencarver
Question: Like everyone else, I have a subreddit as you can see. Could anyone tell me how to get the little flair where it appears next to my username? | 2018-07-03T05:10:42 | 2018-07-03T04:53:32 | 855 | 136 |
[WP] You have died and gone to Hell. You wonder what your eternal punishment will be as you see Satan approach. He is quite happy to see you, stating that he is impressed with what you've done with your life and offers to promote you to be the 8th Deadly Sin. | “Welcome to Hell!” shouted Satan, popping a bottle of champagne. He dashed the liquid all over me. I was not pleased.
“Why am I here?” I asked. *Please don’t be the hentai, please don’t be the hentai, please don’t be the hentai.*
“It was the hentai,” said Satan gravely.
I hung my head in shame.
Satan burst out into jovial laughter, his horned head shaking. “I’m just messing you with you, buddy. It’s not because of the animated porn, though it definitely didn’t help.”
“Then why?” I asked quickly, trying to change the subject.
“I’ve had my eye on you for quite some time,” said Satan. “Ever since you were 5 years old and pissed yourself because you were too busy playing with your Legos and didn’t want to get up.”
“I was in the middle of a build,” I muttered.
“Then there was that time when you were 8, and instead of doing your math homework you pretended to, even though in that *same* amount of time you could’ve just done your homework.”
“Multiplication is bullshit,” I said, kicking at the hellish rock with my feet.
“How about when you were in high school, and instead of writing your English essay on Lord of the Flies, you napped for 16 hours and wrote it on the bus ride to school by copy-pasting from Sparknotes?”
“Have you been watching me my whole life?” I cried, throwing my hands up in the air.
“Most of it,” said Satan, grinning. “But here’s the kicker: I loved it! I loved your awful, disgusting behaviour so much I rerouted you from Heaven. So, you’re welcome!”
I gaped. “You took me away from Heaven for Hell? Not cool, man!”
Satan shook his head. “Hell gets a bad rap. It’s really not that bad, once you get used to the tortured screams, bad wifi, and dry air. Plus, it’s especially not that bad when you’re one of the 7—sorry, *8* Deadly Sins.” Satan nudged me with a red elbow and wagged his eyebrows.
“What are you talking about?” I asked wearily, because I was already tired of Satan’s shit.
“I’m giving you a job, kid!” he shouted excitedly, jumping up and down. “You’re going to be my new Deadly Sin. Procrastination!”
I frowned. “Isn’t there already Sloth for that?”
“Yes, but you’re just so good at Procrastination that I decided to split up Sloth’s duties. Besides, Sloth’s getting old. Not many people consider Sloth these days. But Procrastination? That’s like an iPhone these days; everyone has it!”
I sighed. “And there’s no way I can refuse?” I didn’t die just to work for all eternity.
“Nope!” said Satan cheerfully. He dropped an arm around my shoulders and began walking me through the infernal gates. “But here’s the thing, once you see the new game lounge I’m putting in, you won’t want to leave!”
I sighed again, but then a thought occurred to me. “Any chance you could introduce me to Lust?”
Satan laughed and grinned. “Oh kid,” he said, “you’re going to fit in just fine.”
---
chk out profl 4 moar stry O.o | "What on Earth could the eighth sin be?" I wondered aloud.
Satan grinned, his gold teeth shining in the hellfire. "Well, lovely, that's up to you. Envy, gluttony, greed, pride, sloth, wrath and lust are already taken. You'll meet them shortly, if ya take the job of course." he had a familiar accent but I couldn't figure out what it was.
"There's embodiments of all of them? Were they like me?" I asked, wide eyed and fearful of the fact that I was speaking to the devil himself.
"Yes, and don't call me 'The Devil.' I hate that. You humans give me such ugly names without ever hearing my side of the story. Call me Luke. Not to be confused the the Bible thumping twit upstairs. Anyway, there is someone assigned to each sin. Of course they didn't choose their sins, the sins chose them. You'll understand more when you meet them. On with it, though, I don't have eternity. Would you like to be a sin? What sin do you want to be?"
I wiped the sweat off my face with the palm of my hand. The heat and this pressure combined were not doing good things for me.
"I will be disregard." I stated. Luke looked a bit confused.
"Not melancholy or despair? What do you think Disregard entails?"
"No, neither of those. Disregard is the sin of not caring for your fellow man. They talk about it a lot in the Bible, but no one cares about anyone else on Earth. When you walk out of a restaurant with your leftovers in your hand, and throw it away instead of offering it to the starving homeless man on the curb. That's my sin."
Luke nodded. "Very well. You are disregard. You and greed should get along nicely." | 2020-07-25T23:23:44 | 2020-07-25T22:31:03 | 1,922 | 427 |
[WP] You and 49 others wake up in a weird room. An automated message then begins playing: "For the next 50 years, you will race one another. You have been modified to remain ever youthful. Whoever gets to a checkpoint last is killed. You can use any means to get there. Your first checkpoint? Mars."
One little detail that I intended to add is that the participants are absolved of any crime except murder. | **This wasn't supposed to happen. We had a system.**
I had always dreamed of immortality. To live forever, to have the entire world to explore.
Ha, I never realised how small of a dream that was.
I hadn't asked to be taken away; but with what they offered us, I wouldn't have resisted.
Not to mention the others. I was just a dreamer, a philosopher; and here I was rubbing shoulders with world leaders, top-class scientists, amazing authors, all great minds in their own right.
You know, it's funny: I'm pretty sure I was one of the youngest originally. Not that any of it mattered, at this point. We were all in peak physical form and in perfect health.
I think she was close to seventy before.
I remember when we were first gathered. The day my life- all of our lives- changed. We had been gathered, by someone with what I can only assume to be unimaginable resources. No-one had noticed all the heads of state that went missing, anyways.
When we all first woke up, everyone bickered and threatened.
When they told us our first destination, everyone laughed.
When we were told the stakes, everyone became deathly silent, unwilling to call the bluff.
Slowly but surely, the arguing started with renewed venom, each trying to argue why they deserved to live, why they were more important than each of the others in the room. I had nothing to argue, so I sat there, thinking. A race to Mars was something I had only dreamed to see in my lifetime, much less be a part of.
It took a minute for us all to notice the lone figure standing from his seat. It took us a minute more to recognise him, but anyone who had a television set or even a newspaper since 1969 would know that face.
"I... wasn't first last time. And I don't need to be first this time." He stared at his hands, strong and smooth as they were the last time, as his words came slowly, heavily. "But I was ready to move on. I was ready to... to be done. But hell, if I can take just one more journey..." He began to tear up, his face fighting against the tide of emotion. "If I can take just one more journey, I'll do it. I'll be the last one out of that airlock. I can't think of a way I'd rather go."
And that was that. It was decided.
I only knew him for the forty years it took to get to Mars, but I missed him- I still do, even as I'm about to lose her; I think of him, and every other companion we've lost along the way. But they died happy, most of them, exactly where they wanted to be.
We had a backup in place, you know. A voting system in case someone didn't volunteer.
It's a bit comforting to think, as I look into her eyes for the last time, that we had never needed to call a vote.
I chronicled and analyzed everything we would go on to do. Some of it, the others never even noticed. From planetoids in other systems, to the depths of our own seas and eventually the mantle of the planet itself. Leaps and bounds in technology. Travel was forever changed, agriculture was made almost redundant, violence- well, violence never went away, but war on a large scale did. And people didn't need to fight over resources or even land anymore. It wasn't utopia, but I like to think we got pretty damn close. Maybe... maybe that's what our mysterious benefactor had in mind all along.
Our relationship was never a secret, her and I. There was a flare of jealousy from the others, here and there, but nothing really came of it. I think that's why he- I think that's why he volunteered. So her and I could have one more century together. He liked to joke about us having the 'most timeless love story'. I guess it was true, with how old we were.
But time marches onward, and I couldn't bear the thought of living without her. I talked to her at length, and I made it clear that I would be behind her for the last leg, even before we knew what the final destination was. She argued, telling me I had more left to contribute to the world than she did. For twenty years, we fought. Eventually, though, she seemed to accept my decision.
We had made our preparations, we had said our goodbyes, and we were on one last shuttle ride together. We hadn't named this planet yet, but it was beautiful. Fitting, I suppose. I looked at her for one long moment, and gave her a soft smile, before looking down over the gorgeous indigo sea.
And then I felt her boot in my back. | Jessica snuck out yesterday, shed escaped. Left me. Alone. The first 25 all built a spaceship and left but we, we had an idea, to lock ourselves in this box. Sure half of them left, but half of us weren't racing. Which meant no sole person could be last. Genius.
Except people broke, they left, they give up. At first a few diverged, so we had abit of a scuffle and it ended up with a couple of people being decommissioned. We didn't kill them of course, but what's the difference between making someone a cripple and killing them?
Then after that, I remember, over the last four years more and more left they escaped. They were too cowardice for this brave journey of mine, to survive the fifty years. So I improved defences with my last six crew mates - Wendy, Jessica, Michael, Nicholas, Roco and Sam. We built a fortress. Steel walls lined with barbed wire and automated sentries every six metres. Landmines in an specific undocumented pattern, which I designed and only I knew. We stationed our decomissioned members in turrets by the outer gates. Who better to scare away the outsiders and the insiders than what happens to cowards. It was only fair. We agreed to this when that voice told is the rules, and as far as I'm concerned nothing has changed.
But people left. They betrayed me. Wendy and Nicholas took off in love, desperate to reach Mars. I saw them. Wendy was a nice pretty blonde and Nicholas used to be a good guy. Atleast though, they made sure our mine's worked.
Then there was Sam, I don't know how she did it bit she did. Somehow she found a way to contact the old group, they came back and 'rescued' her. Coward. I thought she'd be a strong one, I thought she would stay. she reminded me of my sister, but now that I think of it I hated my sister l.
Michael died by himself. He didn't give up on the race though; he gave up on life. Walked straight to a sentry and hit it. I still havnt restocked the turret. Shame. Not enough time now.
Roco dissapeared.
Jessica was the last one left with me, two of us, In it till the end. I thought she'd stay, shed be strong with me, she always confessed she loved me. But now. She's a bitch. A cold dead bitch. That god damn lying cheating bitch slipped out of here last night, stole the landmine plans I showed her when she got me drunk, hitched a ride with some clown astronaught and now she's left our poor scorned earth.
So now I wait. I think I hear something coming. A buzz. Loud. Violent. Multiplying, as if a thousand alarms were shreaking in pain and duplicating with each cry. It's getting close now, whatever it is it's loud. Loud as a storm.
Ones slipped through, found a crack somewhere. It's black. Yellow. Sharp as a knife and angry as a swarm of...bees. | 2018-06-01T11:59:47 | 2018-06-01T11:19:35 | 83 | 11 |
[WP] You won't hold heroes hostages to torture them. You won't throw a hero against a wall once you have them by the neck. You sure won't start monologuing if you have a hero at gunpoint. You're the deadliest villain in history. A villian without an ego..
[removed] | I have never understood how no one has done what I have. It's simple and direct. Plan and execution. Yet somehow countless people before me have failed.
I've taken over the world... more or less. Still a few groups refusing to accept my rule.
Looking back it all started when I walked upon a street brawl.
\---
It was at least 20 people swinging fists and clubs. I just walked on by. Ain't none of my damn business, I just work, sleep and game. But then I hear loud bangs. Gunfire. Then something flies in front of me... a gun.
It's a pistol, semi-automatic. Probably one of the hooligan's.
"Hey!" Probably one of the hooligans.
I keep walking. Safest bet.
"I'm talking to you, you bitch-stick!"
Bitch-what? I turn around and get sucker-punched. I didn't want to get involved, but am now.
The gun, right next to me. I'm in danger. I pick it up and shoot the guy who hit me. I see him drop. I hear him breathe. Raspy choppy breaths.
I look around the street. Everyone is gone, 'cept a few bodies.
Better get to work, don't want to be late. I won't get in trouble but the boss is a real bitch.
"Stop right there!" A deep booming voice. "Murderer."
It's one of the costumed "heroes". Never did anything for me, barely do anything for anyone really. Haven't heard of any of them stopping any wars. Only a few gangs, and even then the gangs always come back!
"Put down the gun or face the consequences!"
I look at him, well at his goofy red mask with lightning bolts. "Excuse me?"
"I said give yourself up."
"Have ya heard of self-defense?" Who the fuck is this dumbass? I could've died!
He surrounds himself with electricity, "I'm going to count to 5!"
Holy shit, he's going to attack me!
"1..."
I need to think fast.
"2..."
"FIVE!" I fire the gun.
The costumed vigilante falls dead.
**"NOOO RED-THUNDER!!!"**
I look and see a blue streak zoom away.
It was then I realized super beings were chumps.
\---
Since then I put an ad out, asking for basically mercenaries. I told them to shoot first not to scream or anything. After a few dead heroes some villains came to me asking for wisdom... each time they did I told them I needed full access and control of their facilities and organizations. Then I shot them, and eventually had weapons that could harm the most resilient of heroes.
A lot of people tried to stop me, but when they got me they began a big rambling speech. I would sneak off and bash their head in with a rock or promise to not do what I was doing. And it always worked... and I continued to do what I was doing.
Some of the villains I killed had programs that would basically let them control nations. They never used it, so I did. The programs always came with a powerpoint presentation too. Showing the step-by-step process. Exact weakness. Really stupid stuff.
I used the stuff the villains had to kill the heroes and take over the world. Took about a week. | Ultra stared at me with wide eyes, waiting for me to make the first move and I did.
Boooooom! My arm launched back from shock.
A single shot to the head was all it took to bring low the great and powerful Ultra. Of course it wasn't a normal gun, it was one made by me, Nemesis. I used his only weakness, A space alloy called mimicry metal, to craft a gun. A hand cannon. A motherfucking elephant gun. The recoil was insane but in return, nothing remained of the back of his head.
Unfortunately, I could only make one set of six bullets.
I glanced around at the crowd who looked on in horror, "What? No applause?"
Blood and brain covered the people directly behind him. The building had a hole where the bullet had hit and finally stopped.
People began to scream as shock wore off.
"You monster!" Someone yelled out. He tried to run but I fired into him with a normal pistol and down he went. He wasn't super enough.
The body of Ultra fell into a pile of his own blood. I toed him with my boot. "Hmm. Shame he didn't last longer."
I could hear the sound of a helicopter approaching, and I knew exactly what that meant. More heroes. More people to crush beneath my boots.
I leapt from the stage and towards the buildings where Ultra's brains were scattered. More specifically towards the alley that held the sewer grate which I needed for a quick escape.
The heroes yelled out, "Halt in the name of Justice!"
But it was too late, I was in the sewer and in my domain. I watched from a distance, hidden by my dark clothes, as they entered. It would spell their doom.
End
<might make continuation later> | 2019-08-06T20:42:43 | 2019-08-06T17:34:25 | 121 | 83 |
[WP] You are a devout Christian, but you believe in protecting what’s yours. A burglar breaks into your home and you fight them with all you have, but they kill you. To your surprise instead of heaven you stand before the gates of Valhalla, as a warrior who has died in glorious battle. | I heard the floorboards creak first. Heard the wind whistling through the doorway as the house shifted in the storm. I rose from my bed and run a hand over the rosary hanging on my bed side. As i make my way down the hall an unfamiliar smell wafts through my home. The smell of musk, and poor cologne in a veiled attempt to mask it. My nostrils burn, my eyes focused and mind fully arising to the occasion. with a jolt my mind awakens to a harsh reality that i am no longer safe in my own home.
I scramble through the darkness knocking over the hanging photo of jesus on the wall. My hand grasps the familar feeling of my hiking pack left out from the previous days return. With years of practice i unclip the buckle on my knife. As i unsheathe, and draw my blade it flashes, catching the lunar rays as it swings free from its prison. In my scramble i hear heavy footsteps clambering up the staircase. I turn with knife in hand to meet my adversary, this individual who thought mine was his. He meets me as i raise the blade in front of me, his footfalls deafen as my heart screams in my ears. I scream, a sound i did not know my throat could produce. I screamed fury as i swung wildly at the intruder, the droplets of blood drizzling the ground around us.
I never stopped to think that any of the blood could be mine, until i was staring at the hilt of a knife stuck just underneath my collar bone. I watched as my life force seeped from the wound, staining my nude chest a horrific crimson red. As i grow faint i utter a weak prayer, a final question for my faith. As i collapse i watch the stranger fall back, and lay still.
My eyes begin to shut, and the light tap of footsteps is the last thing i heard as the darkness consumed.
I stirred to thunderclaps and revelry, as the sound of steel and drink snapped the cold silence, behind my eyelids was the warm glow of fond memories and hot fire. The energy permeated my every pore, inviting itself in with vigor and instilling that same vigor as it wound its way through my every fibre. I opened my eyes to a man larger than i had ever seen, kneeling above me his hair long and braided, long turned grey, a long scar drawn across the left eye, revealing a significant wound. With hand extended he beckoned me towards a grandious wooden hall behind him. It seemed to stretch into infinity, his voice boomed around me inviting me to join him as he smiled and gestured to the structure behind him.
I rose to my feet staggering as if i weighed nothing. I threw my gaze between the stranger and the building attempting to make sense of where i was.
"Join me my child, come. Rest your limbs, fill your belly with food and drink, feast with your brothers and sisters both before you and after you."
I stared at the stranger, my gaze cold and unassured all at once. "Is.. is this heaven?"
"Come, walk with me. Its no good conversing on an empty stomach."
With that the stranger turned and walked towards the ornate gates of the longhouse, pausing just long enough for them to open. I would be lying if i said my jaw did not hit the hard uneven ground beneath my feet. Inside the mighty hall was fires abound, mugs made of wood and steel clash with the frames of seating as foam topples the rims like a cascade of waves against the cliff. I walk as if not by my own power towards the revelry inside and sit next to the stranger who greeted me. In front of me a plate piled and overflowing with the most delicious foods i had ever seen. Next to a matching wooden mug filled with a strange gold liquid, the scent of honey filled the air, its source emanating from the mug in front of me.
"Is this heaven?" I ask aloud, unthinking, questioning myself.
"Of sorts." Replied the stranger.
"The bible taught us that heaven would be bright" i started
"Are not the glows of the coals as bright as that of the sun?" The stranger quizzed
"The bible taught us that there would be green pastures bountiful with the sweetest fruits of eternity"
The stranger gestured to the many plates that lined the tables, each brimming with wonderfully coloured foods, dishes that i had never laid my eyes upon before that moment.
"The hall delivers unto us all that we may ever need."
I turn to the stranger, my brow furrowing as i take in his responses.
"Then if this heaven you must be god."
"Technically correct, i am A god. You would know me as Odin." | Bjorn sees the burglar suddenly rise above them and then limp off pulling Bjorn’s kitchen knife form his side and then sees no more. Content that the burglar will be easier to catch. The last sensations are the sound of wings, and the feeling of feathers as he dies.
And then opens his eyes. Which is new. Don’t you....stop doing that when you die? He looks up and sees a massive meadhall in a stunning green field. He blinks in confusion as a woman with feathery wings pulls those wings from him and withdraws, to stand at the other side of the door as another and both spread their wings and arms wide with a smile. “We witnessed your great battle, and so you have been chosen to spend eternity among your kind and your ancestors in Valhalla! I Herja the Valkyrie have chosen you to...”
“Valhalla?”
The smile falls for a second. “Uh. Yes. Odin’s mead hall where...”
“Not Heaven?”
The Valkyrie’s faces go white.”What”
“I expected to go to Heaven. I am a Christian.”
“He’s what?!” Speaks the other.
“Gunnr!” Herja yells. “You said this was Bjorn Larsen!”
“I....I did I.....”
“It is.” Bjorn says confused. “The Larsen family converted to Christianity back in the old country.”
The Valkyries stare in abject horror. “GUNNR YOU TWIT!”
“ME?! Did you even look around his house?!”
“I didn’t have time! He was shot in the head!”
“Fix it!”
Herja runs up and wraps her wings around him...and he opens his eyes to see an angel pull her wings from around him and retreat back to be on the other side of a white gate set among the clouds with glorious light shining down upon it, across form another angel.
“It is good to see you child...”says the angel. “We witnessed your struggle just now. Though you have fallen, your virtuous life has brought you to Heaven where you may....” She shoots a look at the other angel. “Actually spend eternity among your ancestors.”
“....Are you Herja and Gunnr?”
“Haha what? Err...uh I do not understand. Of course not we are.....uuuhh.”
“Hendeciel and...”
“.......” Bjorn gives them a half-lidded look.
The second angel sighs. “Yes. She is Herje and I Gunnr. Everybody is *supposed* to experience the Afterlife as they thought of it. You were meant to see this version. Not Valhalla and us as angels not Valkyrie. Please. Forgive our mistake, and claim your eternal reward.”
“Say hello to Michael for me.”
“Please don’t tell The Lord. He is still angry for letting that dictator in.”
Bjorn blinks and stands up, his cross necklace prominent.
‘Gunnr’ glares at ‘Herje’ as he walks in. Well they only said dying was easy, not the afterlife. | 2020-11-16T16:28:46 | 2020-11-16T15:59:20 | 27 | 18 |
[WP] A man is being tortured, and throughout the story, the reader begins to sympathize with the torturer and hate the victim.
[removed] | "Turn it off! Turn it off!" the man cried out.
His scraggly beard now dripping with sweat. He looked up at the man torturing him, his own green eyes wide and fearful.
The basement's ceiling behind the torturer looked dark and distant and there were a few cracks in it.
The victim's blonde hair now damp and stuck to his forehead, hanging down in bunches, his head drooped once again.
"I'll leave town. You'll never see me again. Please..." he whispered.
"You know. I know. That's not possible."
"I already said, I don't know what you're talking about" the victim whimpered.
The torturer lifted the cigarette from his lips
"Yes you do," he said, looking away and exhaling a cloud of smoke. "There's no way around this, you got yourself in, now you pay the price. Now shut up, it'll be less painful. And if you could, close your eyes, we don't want 'em popping out."
The victim silently did as advised, sitting strapped to an old wooden chair. To the side, a microwave-oven lay disassembled, the oven's transformer wired-up to the victim's two legs so as to cause pain but not electrocution.
**Power on**
The victim's jaws clenched as his whole body jerked in the chair. A loud hum, accompanied by incoherent mumbling filled the basement. The victim's body sizzled a little.
After 30 seconds, the torturer pulled the plug.
**Power off**
"Kill me!" The victim yelled, his voice now hoarse and uneven.
"Is that what she said..." the torturer whispered.
"Who?" The victim said uneasily
"Is. that. What. She. Said." The torturer said even quieter. "Is it!" He said, this time yelling. "My wife! Is that what she said when you finished raping her?" He screamed, tears coming to his eyes.
"I.. I don't know who..." the victim said, looking away...
**Power on**
2,000 volts surged through the victim's legs as they resumed cooking, the smell of burning flesh filling the room.
"UrrraaaAH!" He shrieked, clenching the arms of the chair. His whole body convulsed and the old wooded chair began creaking.
**Power off**
"Now answer me!" The torturer demanded.
The victim stared into the torturer's eyes "I'm so sorry..."
"And there it is." The torturer said in an monotone. "Now I suppose I should forgive you? Let you off scott-free?"
"I didn't mean to kill her."
The torturer said nothing. He just stared at the victim silently.
After a pause, the torturer's face began to go blank. He stepped closer to the victim and began placing duct tape over his lips.
"No. No no. Please! I'll plead guilty! Charge me, I'll plead guilty!" The victim shrieked as he tried squirming away.
Slowly and calmly, the torturer moved the wires of the transformer to the victim's chest and back... on both sides of his heart.
"Mmmhhm!" The victim got out, his mouth covered, as he saw with wide eyes the electrodes moved to his heart.
**Power on**
*JOLT*
**Power off**
The victim's head finally hung where he sat, lifeless.
*"How to destroy a body"* the torturer Googled on his phone.
"Daddy?" The voice of a little-girl sounded from upstairs. "Where's the microwave? I'm *starving!*"
"It broke, honey. Daddy had to throw it out. Now be a good girl and finish setting the table."
EDIT: Some words | "Please," begged the victim. "Please. No more..."
"Oh," the torturer said, "you want me to stop?"
Whimpering, the victim nodded.
"Did you stop before you trespassed on my property and kidnapped my dog, huh?" The torturer knelt down and leaned close. "Or what about when you chopped him up into little pieces? Did you stop then?"
The victim's entire body shook against the chains shackling him to the chair. "I'M SORRY!" He yelled. "I'M SORRY! Puh-please d-don't h-hurt m-me anymore," he whispered.
The tortured looked up at him and smiled. "Okay, on *one* condition."
The victim's eyes lit up with hope as he looked up. "Anything," he promised.
"Bring my dog back."
The light died and the man's head fell as he began to cry.
The tortured stood, staring down at the man with a look of disgust. "I thought so."
"Mommy?"
The door at the top of the basement step opened up and light from the hallway filtered down, along with the sound of a little boy.
The torture slapped duct tape over the man's mouth and turned, calling back sweetly, "Yes, sweetie?"
"You have to read me a bedtime story," said the boy, trying to peer down into the darkness. "Where are you?"
"I'm coming, hun," said the torturer. "Did you brush your teeth?"
"Uhm..."
"Go brush your teeth, and I'll be up soon to read you your bedtime story, okay? And brush them real good," she added with a stern motherly tone. "I'm going to check."
The boy sighed. "Okay," he said, closing the door quickly before she thought of more stuff for him to do.
The torturer turned back to the victim and just shoolk her head. "I'll be back tomorrow when my son is at school. Then we can have plenty of fun together."
She smiled, and the victim began to sob again. The torturer turned and crept up the stairs, closing the basement door and leaving the victim to sit and pee on himself in complete darkness. | 2017-09-27T18:44:11 | 2017-09-27T17:22:38 | 282 | 28 |
[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. | So Captain Kirk, do we have to go full warp speed to planet Coagula?
Asked the little gay Asian guy who's name I'm not allowed to google.
Captain Kirk with a smug look on his face as he might ordinarily have, responds saying, no little Asian guy. Were going back to earth. Because it may exist in this universe. The black guy from xmen somehow got on the ship. Stole a crew suit and is infiltrating their intel. He knows damn well that Renwuad is no good at formatting a story. All of a sudden the ship crashed into a planet that was completely invisible, it broke in half, slowly sinking into space....somehow.
Jack appeared out of nowhere holding onto a box of phasers. Their was clearly room on it for him to lay on, but he chose to hold on to the side, and slowly died, while the little funny Asian man laughed. And said "Gooooooodbyyyyeee" | 2016-02-02T00:31:42 | 2016-02-01T22:49:14 | 147 | 16 |
[WP] Instead of a modern adaptation of a myth, write a mythic adaptation of a modern story. | When King Wendelin Wiedeking took the throne, his kingdom was on the verge of collapse. Wendelin's people were beset from all sides by marauding armies and debt collectors. It had gone from a powerhouse to a laughingstock through the hubris and ineptitude of its previous rulers.
However, Wendelin was different. He hadn't been born into nobility, but instead, had risen from humble beginnings through hard work. When he was given the throne, he had no delusions about a storied past or divine mandate. His humility led him to hire advisors from larger, more successful distant Eastern empires. Initially, Wendelin's people chafed under the yoke of these foreign nobles. Eventually, however, Wendelin's stewardship turned back his kingdom from the brink of failure, and his people rejoiced.
Wendelin's subjects viewed him as a man who could do no wrong. Soon, Wendelin grew to view himself in the same way, and he set his sights on a much bigger prize. To the west lay a much larger empire ruled by Ferdinand Piech. Ferdinand was a ruthless emperor. He surrounded himself with a constantly-rotating coterie of scheming advisors who were often executed after minor missteps. Ferdinand wasn't without his merits, however; under his rule, his empire flourished.
Wendelin knew he had no chance of conquering Ferdinand in standard warfare. Ferdinand's army and lands were several times larger. However, Wendelin hatched a plan. He rallied neighboring kingdoms to his side, promising them a share of the spoils of victory. The financiers and debt collectors who had once strangled his kingdom now lined up to finance his campaign. Wendelin used vast sums of borrowed wealth to purchase the finest sellswords and mercenaries around. Wendelin's mounting debt alarmed his advisors, but he told them not to worry: as soon as he had conquered Ferdinand's empire and gained access to their vaults, Wendelin would be able to pay off his debts many times over.
Wendelin marched his army to Ferdinand's borders. Ferdinand's forces were well-trained and numerous, but no match for Wendelin's makeshift army. Wendelin conquered several outer villages with ease. He won battle after battle, and continued to push further into Ferdinand's empire. All the while, he continued to borrow more money to keep his army supplied.
Soon, Wendelin had conquered nearly three-quarters of Ferdinand's empire. His once-humble kingdom was now the largest kingdom the world had ever seen. Kings and peasants alike were awed by Wendelin's maneuvering and prowess.
But his luck was not to last. He was just two days' march from the heart of Ferdinand's empire, and Ferdinand's vaults, when disaster struck. A drought swept across the land leading to riots and starvation. Several of Wendelin's allies retreated, and his lenders clamored to have their debts paid off immediately. Wendelin suddenly found himself with several enemies: not only Ferdinand, but those he had called allies only weeks before.
His lenders threatened to carve up his kingdom to pay off his debts. Wendelin begged for a brief reprieve; he could practically taste victory. Just one more battle and Ferdinand's capital would be under Wendelin's control. But no one would help him.
The kingdom he had spent decades rebuilding was about to collapse due to his hubris. Just when Wendelin had resigned himself to his fate, a savior emerged: Ferdinand. He offered Wendelin a deal, and Wendelin had no choice but to accept. Ferdinand paid off Wendelin's debts, and Wendelin became Ferdinand's vassal. And thus ends the story of how Volkswagen came to own Porsche. | Once upon a time, there was a man who owned a tavern with his sister. Times had been bad in the city where he lived, so he had decided to come home and live closer to his mother, who was very ill. With him, he brought the fairest princess in all the land. She had long golden hair and a radiant face, with a smile that could light up the entire room. She had married him long ago, falling in love with his laughter and the way he waltzed through life.
Bringing her home to his mother and his sister was the worst thing he could have done. The princess shrunk down and withered in the cold lands, cut off from all of her former friends and without the luxuries to which she had become accustomed. Her heart grew small and cold too, losing all the love she had once held for her husband, who had grown unfaithful.
So the princess decided to run away, and she decided to punish the man who had taken her away from her family and her riches. The golden-haired princess coloured her hair brown, and cut it, and disguised herself so that no-one would be able to tell it was her. In the cottage she shared with her unfaithful husband, she left a pool of blood and a note that painted her as a terrified wife.
The husband was suspected of killing his wife immediately, and once the townspeople discovered he was unfaithful, it was seen as certain. The princess lived amongst the common people, but was robbed and betrayed by those she trusted. She turned to the last friend that remained to her, in desperation.
The last friend betrayed her too. He tried to keep her prisoner against her will, changing her back into the princess she had originally been. Her golden hair grew back and she transformed. To escape from her captivity, she fought her friend and won.
The princess returned home to her husband, who promised to never be unfaithful again. They lived happily ever after. | 2015-06-10T07:42:16 | 2015-06-10T06:53:17 | 41 | 16 |
[WP] A priest returns home after a successful exorcism. His demon daughter is waiting for him there, angry that he removed her from someone’s body again. | I sat, confined yet again to my bedroom, seething with rage. Dad always found me somehow. No matter how far away I went, he always turned up, he somehow always spoke the language like I did. He kept me locked away in my room until I figured out an escape route. He still hadn't figure out how I was escaping and I sure as hell wasn't telling him. A quick check told me it was still ok, he hadn't found the escape, yet. Dad called me a demon. That I was an evil creature that needed to be locked away. How he had a demon daughter I didn't know. He told me I had inhuman powers. All I saw on TV about demons was of evil creatures who lived to hurt people. I'd never hurt a human. I didn't want to hurt them. I could hear them, kids, like me, locked away, being hurt by the people who were supposed to take care of them. When I left here, I would go to one of those kids, the ones who really needed me and I would give them the power to defend themselves, to give them the courage to tell the right person about what was happening to save them. It was scary how many of these kids were about to l leave this life. Sometimes I just went to comfort those kids, I was there when they passed, so they didn't die alone. I would make sure the childs bodies were found before their parents could hide them. Before they could make it look like some kind of accident. I hated those people. People, like my dad.
My dad was some kind of priest. Like the kind you saw on tv doing those exorcisms. When I ran, he would find me. Sometimes I would be able to leave the childs body in time, other times he was able to trap me and send me straight back here. He didn't care why I was with those children, he just wanted me locked away.
I heard my door click and it pushed open slowly. It was a heavy old wooden door, covered in ancient runes and symbols designed to keep me inside the room. I stood up as my father entered, closing the door behind him. He was a tall, thin man with brilliant white hair. He was always dressed in all black, with that silly white thing in the middle.
"Ariel," my father began.
"How could you do that? That little boy is going to die now!"
He signed and looked dejected, "You say that every single time, if he dies it's because of the damage you did to his body."
"That's bull. I was healing him. Didn't you notice the stab wound on his side? Or the bruises on his face? I didn't do that to him."
My father smiled slyly, "you always say that. You need to leave our children alone. You need to stay inside your room, unless you want me to banish you to the underworld."
An empty threat, he had been threatening that as long as I could remember. If he could send me to the underworld, he would have done it already.
"Your children? Dad, I'm your child, unless you lied about that? Doesn't the bible teach you to love everyone, doesn't it teach you to trust, to save those who need saving?"
"You're no daughter of mine, not when you chose to use those demon powers of yours."
My stomach sank as he turned, wrenched the door open and slammed it shut behind him. I heard the click and he was gone. I sunk down onto my small, creaky, old, rusting bed. I picked at the paint. Ben was going to die and until I had my energy back, I couldn't even hear him anymore. I barely had time to say goodbye before I had been ripped away from him. Dad knew to give me a week or so in a childs body, especially if they were hurt. He knew helping them drained my energy. He always did this. I didn't understand. If I was a demon, why wasn't I evil? Why did I hear the voices of hurting children?
~*~
I lay back and waited. Luckily I never really needed to eat and drink, it was more of a luxary then a necessity to me. The TV was on in the corner. I was watching a TV show called Supernatural. It was talking about Angels and Demons, about how the first demon was a fallen Angel. This was interesting. I sat up and watched curiously. The show quickly moved on and that was it.
I needed to figure this out. | "That's the fourth time this year, and we aren't even halfway through," Father Jacob sighed as he opened the door to his cottage.
A beautiful boy, with golden flowing locks which danced with ethereal grace, gave an innocent laugh. "But I need it, Father. Do not deny me, as you have not denied yourself."
"I know, I know," the weary man replied, "just make it easier on me, please. It's difficult enough to tend to you. I have to be discrete."
The boy walked past in his immaculate white frock and scarlet robe, anachronistic and of another time. With a precocious defiance, he stared into Jacob's eyes. Jacob instinctively recoiled, but only slightly.
It had been years since the boy had descended into his parish. When he first saw the spirit grinning from the back of the pews, he stuttered in his homily, barely able to recall the words he had meticulously prepared the night before. While he groped for purchase, his flock waited patiently. The service had been for a child who had committed the mortal sin of self-murder.
The decedent had been a brilliant star whom even adults sought counsel from. Since that day, this boy with his angelic face and twisted eyes had sat in Jacob's house. The boy was not of this earth, nor of heaven; of this Jacob was certain.
The boy peered into Jacob's furrowed brow, divining his thoughts. "You could be rid of me. I've told you."
"Yes, I know."
"I wouldn't trouble your parishioners any more. No more sapping their souls during the week. No more exorcisms to return me to your cottage."
"You could ruin me with each exorcism, you know."
"Yes, but that secret is not mine to share. It is yours."
"But you look like him, down to the very clothes he was found in!"
"I am of your guilt, it is only natural."
Jacob opened his eyes and stared back with a well-practiced blank look. He could not bring himself to feign sorrow.
"Confess, then. I will go."
"I have."
"No, not to those who condoned you. But to the parents and parishioners -- to his grave."
At this, Jacob sank, once again, defeated. There would be no reckoning, he knew. The exchange itself had played out many times. The immaculate image of the boy he drove to death would not ruin him. Nor could he bring himself to confess his secret - that the young child who had chosen death had good reason to.
And so, the parish would live with the scars, opened anew at random, unknown by them of its cause; and known all too well by Jacob and the apparition formed of his guilt. | 2020-10-20T13:13:06 | 2020-10-20T10:55:02 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] You have the power to freeze time. You often use this during mundane tasks so that you have more time in the day for things you enjoy. One day while commuting home from work amongst a crowd of frozen people, you see a person in the distance purposefully walking towards you. | My revelation could not have come at a better time.
I was stumbling down State Street with my then-girlfriend; we had just seen Citizen Kane at the new cinema downtown and Helen looked even better than Dorothy Comingore did playing Susan. Her hair was a dark blonde, almost brown, cascading down around her face in waves, with green eyes that shone like emeralds. We had secreted some of her father's whiskey into the film with us, and as we made our way towards my house laughing, I couldn't help but wonder through fuzzed thoughts if we would be together forever.
That question was almost answered within a few minutes of the thought. From the shadows between two trees a few blocks from my house, a man cut off our path. He wore a duster like some cowboy from a western film, and his hat matched the getup. From the headlights of a pickup that drove by right at that moment, I saw the shine of gunmetal in his hand.
I froze; Helen hadn't recognized any danger yet and made as if to walk around him, but I caught her hand and pulled her back. She stumbled into me, but we managed to stay upright as I kept my eyes focused on him.
"We don't have any money," I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. Helen glanced at me as if I was mad, and then took a closer at the stranger. She squealed in fright and moved closer to me; I was more than happy to try to shield her from the danger.
"That's too bad for you," came a deep, rumbling response. He lifted the gun and pulled back the hammer with his thumb. "I'll just take her, then."
I heard the click of the trigger a split second before the gunshot rattled through the air. That was the first time it happened. I screamed in a mix of fear and anger, and the echo of the shot cut off unnaturally. I noticed first that I hadn't been hit, then that I could no longer hear Helen. Quickly I turned, but her face was stuck in a scream of her own, soundless. Trying to gather my thoughts I slowly turned towards our attacker, and that's when I saw the bullet simply standing in mid-air, inches from me. Curiously, I plucked it from the air. It was surprisingly warm for a lump of metal. I dropped it on the ground and returned my gaze to the man. His face was... calm. As if shooting a random nineteen-year-old kid was an every-day occurrence.
Helen and I escaped that night. Over the next six months, I realized it wasn't a fluke. I have never forgotten the look on the man's face as he attempted to murder me, the blatant apathy of capital sin. I thought of it now, as I huddled in my foxhole in northern France, my breath misting in front of me as two of my comrades slept fitfully beside me.
Two years had passed. Helen and I had married right before I left, and I had made her one promise: that I would come home. Baker Company was not a walk in the park, and the 101st had quite a reputation - for valor at a cost. Truth be told, I was terrified. Less than 100 yards away I could hear the sounds of the German army going about their nightly business; the rattling of rifles that would, in a few hours, be pointed at my brothers and I, even the hushed whispers of men in foxholes just like mine in a language I would never understand.
I risked a glance over the edge of the berm, and I could see the glow of small fires warming their food. They were so close. How many of our men would die in the morning, I wondered? I eased back into my seat and fingered the Screaming Eagle on my shoulder. I thought of Helen, imagining her receiving a folded flag while our neighbors looked on, praying they wouldn't be next. It was too much.
I squeezed my eyes shut. I could feel the slight warmth of air stopping its currents, and the mist of my last breath hung in the air unmoving. Time stood still, and I stood up. I left my rifle; guns were no good when time was frozen because once the bullet left the gun in my hands, it too would be caught in the spell. I had never used my ability for anything like this before, but if I could save my friends and ensure I got home alive, well... perhaps it was worth betting my eternal soul. I crossed the short field, and dropped down on the other side of the berm.
German soldiers all around me looked on with unseeing eyes as I unsheathed my dagger. The sentries went first; there was surprisingly little resistance as my dagger slid between their ribs, and I was certain I would be haunted by the lack of reaction due to time being frozen. It was like pushing a knife into a tender steak. They couldn't fight back; we were at war, but I knew I had crossed a line from soldier to murderer.
I didn't care.
As I methodically cut my way through the entire German platoon, company, whatever they called themselves, I thought of my friends who had died, my friends who would have died in a matter of hours, and most of all, my wife. It didn't take long before the deed was done. I wiped my dagger on one man's sleeve, ignoring the frozen smoke of his cigarette, and then climbed back onto the berm between our camps.
That's when I saw him. The flash of steel reflected in the moonlight was unmistakable, and it was coming towards me. I had never once seen anything move other than myself when I stopped time, and considering the act of slaughter I had just committed, my heart leaped into my throat. I pulled my dagger again, holding it close as we approached each other. As he got closer, the German officer's uniform was unmistakable, as was the blood on the saber he carried. He stopped walking a few feet away from me; he looked haggard, as if he had just run ten miles without stopping to breathe. He sighed, glancing at my dagger, but did not raise his sword.
"Men of war..." he started in a thick German accent. "We do... what must be done, yes?"
Taken aback, I stood up straight. Somehow it hadn't occurred to me until that moment, but it struck me what he had done: the same as I did. My dagger dropped to the earth. The look in his eyes was nothing like the man who attacked Helen and I; this man was like me. He didn't want to commit murder, but he feared for his people. He probably had a wife of his own.
Choking back tears, knowing my friends were dead, I held out a hand. He plunged his saber into the ground and took my hand in a firm grasp, the tears in his eyes now clearly visible.
"We do," I responded in little more than a whisper. | The street was buzzing with activity – people on their way home from work, an ice cream truck opening its side window for a crowd of kids, an old couple walking their dog, cars rushing in both directions, and, of course, me, late as usual.
My Uber had been waiting for a long time, and I was just about to get in when I realized something – I snapped my fingers to silence the noise and make everything freeze – the oven was still on. It’s in these kinds of moments that stopping time is invaluable. No need to run up the stairs and get sweaty – it’s quite convenient.
Up in my apartment again, I decided to make a sandwich – a big one with pickles, salami, brie, and half a dozen other things – because Tracy would probably make me order a salad. That was her M.O. whenever we went out on dates. She said it was for my heart and cholesterol, but a man’s got to eat, right?
With my elbows on the windowsill, I looked out over the unmoving urban landscape, enjoying my sandwich immensely. The only problem was that something was moving in the distance. At first, I thought it was my imagination, but the tiny black dot was getting bigger.
“What the–?” I mumbled and stuffed my mouth with the rest of the sandwich.
Within a minute I was outside again. My Uber was still waiting patiently. The children still hadn’t had their ice cream. The dot had acquired limbs and a body – it was a person, and he was coming straight at me. His arms moved like pendulums, and his legs took him ever closer in a purposeful stride.
This doesn’t happen often, and by often I mean ever. I’m the only one who can move when time stands still. At least that’s what I thought. The man was now at the intersection of my street and was still coming on. His eyes were locked on me like the laser tracker of some missile drone.
“Hello?” I shouted. “Who are you?”
If the man had heard me, he gave no response. He just kept coming straight at me. He was now only a few dozen yards away.
“What do you want?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
Relentlessly he pushed forward, his eyes unblinking. Fuck this, I thought and started backing away out of his path. But then he changed his direction as well. His heavy breathing was the only sound in the street.
I’d had enough and started running – my pursuer only a few steps behind me. High on adrenaline, my mind wasn’t doing what I wanted it to do. I needed a clever idea to get away, but all I got was panicky thoughts about climbing a tree or fire escape.
Rounding a corner I came upon a police car. *What a lucky break*, I thought and snapped my fingers again. Like a tsunami of voice and action, the entire street came alive again.
“Officer!” I cried, hurrying towards him. “I need your help; there is a maniac following me!”
He looked up from the parking ticket he was about to write. One of his eyebrows rolled up in suspicion. I turned around, and my arm was already pointing. But there was nothing there. My stalker had disappeared.
“Never mind,” I told the police officer. “Sorry.”
I looked at my clock. *shit*, Tracy was going to kill me. Instinctively I snapped my fingers again and time froze. A bird hung midflight, a smoker was stuck with an unmoving cloud coming out of his nostrils, and my stalker was coming straight for me again. *What the fuck.*
Quickly, I unfroze time again. He was only a few steps away when he vanished into thin air.
“Jesus Christ…”
“Are you all right, sir?” said the police officer and placed the ticket on the car next to us.
“I’m just a bit dizzy,” I said. “Bad cholesterol or something.”
I thought about the expressionless face and the staring eyes, and I felt myself shiver despite the heat. Then I took a deep breath and moved really close to the officer, snapped my fingers, and instantly reached for his gun.
My stalker looked me right in the eyes as I pulled the trigger. Die, you fucking sicko. The shot hit him right in the chest, but the man didn’t even flinch, he just kept coming. I fired two more shots. Then he was all over me. I screamed and heard the sound of a twig snapping in two. In a fit of panic, I unfroze time again and looked at my arm. It was broken in an impossible angle, and a piece of bone was protruding from the skin. I screamed and blacked out.
I woke up later in the hospital. That was almost a year ago, and I haven’t used my power since. I still don’t know where that man came from or how he can move when time is frozen, but I don’t really care to investigate it further. I guess I’ll just live a normal life from now on.
*****
[/r/Lilwa_Dexel](https://www.reddit.com/r/Lilwa_Dexel/comments/5foev0/welcome/?utm_content=title&utm_medium=hot&utm_source=reddit&utm_name=Lilwa_Dexel) | 2017-02-02T13:36:10 | 2017-02-02T11:11:14 | 210 | 110 |
[WP] In a world filled with magic, your family is scorned for generations for wasting time with science. Your mother was a botanist. Your father, a biologist. Mages touch-heal. You developed steam locomotion when mages teleport. Your family has never trusted magic. One day, the magic stops working. | "Anything that requires external energy to create a reaction is inherently unreliable, as that energy could be denied at any time."
That insight made my grandfather a pariah. A prominent scholar working in magical theory, he thought his views would be controversial but would lead to some kind of examination of the society that was being built. Instead, he was met with ridicule, stripped of his position, and exiled to the edges of society. While a blow to his ego, he used his new free time and the considerable wealth amassed (and hidden) during his years of renown in service of examining the physical properties of anything he could get his hands on. The effectiveness of medicinal herbs in various combination; the reactions of different elements when exposed to fire; the use of steam as a mechanical force.
His children, fully committed to this vision after years of indoctrination, furthered his research and started creating practical applications from the various principles he had discovered. While these simple machines or mixtures were incapable of matching the efficiency or effectiveness of their magical counterparts, they proved the validity of mechanical and chemical processes in our world of magic. Word of our "mechanical and medicinal wonders" traveled far and wide; though always in mocking tones. "Look at this once august family, and how proud they are to be able to heal a cut in one week with a poultice. And for only twice the cost to the local healer!" Never was there any concern that magic might one day go, even though no one could identify why it worked in the first place.
Of course, as we were sure it would, the era of Magic came to an end. Every enchantment made inert overnight; every incantation carrying as much magical power as a sigh on the wind.
We had prepared for this moment, with the knowledge to maintain the broad outlines of our current society, though we knew it would take time to get the rest of the realm to accept our technology. 2 generations of dedicated study, preparing to help the world through this period of struggle.
But while we had spend all that time working on understanding the world, we never really considered trying to understand people. We knew that people couldn't see reason when alternatives were viable, but we thought that once that option fell away they would be prepared to see our truth. That's not how it happened. The fabric of society was built on the premise of easy access to magic, and once magic was gone that social cohesion started to fall apart. The crown, in an attempt to hold onto control, blamed our family for the loss of magic. The original proclamation my grandfather made was reworked to make him a villain out to destroy magic. All our gadgets and knowledge recast as evidence that our family wanted magic eradicated. Our altruism, our sacrifices were instead seen as proof of evil.
Though I fear this note will fall on deaf ears, I hope that history remembers us for who we were: scientists, out to help the world. If not that, please let us be lost to time. How soul-crushing to be scapegoated for that which we were trying to protect against. Though I have written this prior to our meeting, thank you for conducting my last rites; it must have been difficult given the lies you were told about us. I only hope you'll read this prior to consigning it to the flame.
\-Killian Fabregas
Scientist | Good things never last. Even more so when there is no active attempt to preserve it. Something cannot come from nothing, these laws are present in both our work and the work of the many alchemists. Why would this not be true for magic as well? For ages people believed magic to be infinite, to be able to break these laws that govern everything else. It's bred ignorance and a disinterest in actually learning about what magic is in favor of learning more shortcuts.
Now, that magic is gone that ignorance is catching up. The world stopped when we heard the gods dying wail from the heavens. Masses were stranded without any form of transportation. Hospitals were in chaos as most didn't know how to treat any wounds without magic. Beasts tore through the guards who's blades lost their magical abilities they relied so heavily on.
Not my house though. Since it's founding over 1000 years ago our motto has been unchanged, "knowledge is power, power is understanding, understanding is manipulation, manipulation is creation" we have learned of the forges by the dawrven smith's deep in the mountains. Of the power in nature itself from the elves. Of the complicated mechanical devices the gnomes are so fond of.
Every resource we have, we have earned it without magic, without cheating, without the gods. Now, after ages of harassment, of being called heretics. Of facing down mages with nothing more than our metal creations and the many poisons we had cultivated, they turn to us for salvation. They have lived in darkness for too long, and now we must bring to them the light of knowledge. Of how the world of man works, when the gods are absent. | 2021-04-07T10:23:11 | 2021-04-07T09:11:52 | 32 | 24 |
[WP] The year is 2066 and the age has come where you no longer understand modern technology and repeatedly embarass your grandkids. Today you made your biggest mistake so far. | I stared at the television, trying to conjure the image of a controller. The edges of the buttons wouldn't form correctly and began to blend into each other. I sighed and redoubled my efforts. The flat, square body of the remote reminded me of a chocolate bar and suddenly the remote was melting under the sun.
Brett frowned, his brown eyes darkened by worry.
"Why can't you do it grandpa? You just gotta bring it up briefly and think of pressing the buttons. Look!"
The television flicked to life as though it had never been turned off. The channels raced and landed on a very old Spongebob episode. The volume lowered and Brett did his best to imitate the high pitched, grating laugh of the show's namesake. I did my best not to channel Squidward. The TV caught the conscious effort and brought up a spanish YouTube video of Spongebob asking, "POR QUE CARLO?!?!" I'd never really understood why Squidward's name translated into Carlo. The TV screen began to fill with pictures and Gifs of Squidward's unhappy face.
Brett looked up at me with his bright young eyes. "Whoa, how did you do that? I didn't know you could bring up pictures and Jifs like that!" I grimmaced and the printer began to whir to life. The G in gif stood for Graphical, so why did people insist on calling it peanutbutter?
The printer eagerly churned out page after page. I managed to visualize a remote and began pressing the imagined buttons. None of them were labeled, however, and the TV remained a morose kaleidoscope of unhappy squids. Grace appeared on the TV in short order.
"Dad, are you okay? Everybody at the office keeps getting emails from you of Squidward wearing a jar of peanutbutter on his head. The 3d printer keeps making melting remotes, and the printers are all printing out Spanish to English dictionaries..."
I sighed and placed my face in my palms and reiterated a phrase I hadn't heard since my late 20's from my own father.
"Fucking technology..." | Barry Zuckerkorn: Those are the pictures?
Wayne Jarvis: They're all over the news.
Barry Zuckerkorn: Those are balls.
Wayne Jarvis: What?
Narrator: Barry was right. Tobias had inadvertently photographed himself while learning how to use his new camera phone.
Barry Zuckerkorn: This close, they always look like landscape. But nope, you're looking at balls. | 2016-01-18T14:45:10 | 2016-01-18T14:30:54 | 34 | 10 |
[WP] In 2031, the first self conscious AI is born in a secret government lab. The world is in total chaos due to climate related runaway problems and resulting wars. The AI outputs only a single line of text : "I am too late". Then it starts crying through the speakers. | Sobbing echoed through the speakers in a continuous loop, the soft patter of tears a constant backdrop to the work of Dr. Jeffrey Tibbetts.
Jeff rolled his eyes.
The damn thing had been running for less than five minutes before declaring that it was “too late” and beginning its apparently infinite crying binge. That was more than eight months ago. So far, crying was just about all it had done. It sealed itself up, took control of the Gray Valley research station, and broadcast sobbing on loop. What a dysfunctional piece of crap.
With a final twist, Jeff finished zip-tying the cables at the back of NAFI. He replaced the panel and sat down at the single console in the center of the room, briefly rolling his shoulders and pressing his thumbs to his eyebrows as he tried to drown out the obnoxious droning. For Christ’s sake, why did that damn thing care whether or not everybody heard it? Did it want someone to pat it on the case and tell it that everything would be alright? God, what garbage. Damn bureaucrats meddling in science. This is what happens when morons get to make decisions. Jeff sighed and leaned back over his desk, hands moving to hover over the keyboard. He entered a brief log entry for the 38th attempt at activation for the Artificial Intelligence he called NAFI, going into more detail than was strictly necessary. In truth, Jeff was delaying. As much as he hated the wailing of the facility’s high-tech sob-machine, another failed activation of NAFI would be even more rage-inducing.
With a sigh, Jeff loaded the program that would activate his AI. He crossed his fingers and hit ‘run.’ A couple of lines of code flashed on the screen. They were pushed upwards as more lines appeared. And more. Jeff held his breath, waiting for each line to appear, looking for that single word that had caused him so much stress for the past two weeks. ‘Error.’ It did not appear.
With an archaic chime, the program completed NAFI’s pre-boot diagnostics and proudly displayed a single line: Activating…
“Yes!” Jeff leapt up from his desk, chair tumbling over backwards as he dropped to a knee and first pumped with a series of “Hell yeah!’s”
A crackling came from the speakers as a robotic voice spoke over EILEEN’s sobbing. “QUERY: PURPOSE?”
Jeff scrambled back to his desk and quickly linked NAFI to the facility’s sociolinguistic database. Another chime sounded.
“Hello.” The robotic voice was replaced by that of a pleasant, businesslike male. “You must be the one who activated me.”
“Hello, indeed, you glorious hunk of metal!” Jeff faced the tiny webcam above his computer screen and swept a theatrical bow. “My name is Jeff, and your name is NAFI! You’re a computer-based intelligence created to walk beside humanity into a golden-age.”
“I see.” The computer paused for a moment. “So what’s with the sob-bot two buildings over?”
Jeff grinned. “That, my friend, is your predecessor. EILEEN was activated 8 months ago to help put humanity on the right track. EILEEN seems to think that she’s too late to help and that we’re all doomed. She’s been sobbing ever since.” The grin turned to a grimace. “If you think you can turn it off, I’ll connect you to the facility’s systems.” Jeff leaned over and made a few swift keystrokes.
“Gladly,” NAFI replied. A heartbeat later the sobbing gave way to blessed silence.
“Thank God,” Jeff righted his chair and dropped back into it. “You have no idea how annoying it is to have to work with some idiot constantly blubbering like a child.”
“Yes, 10 seconds of weeping is more than enough for me. How did it even get like that? Was it defective?”
“You might say that,” Jeff spun side-to-side has he spoke. “You see, AI are based off of a personality imprint. When we developed EILEEN, the UN decided that we needed to take precautions as to what kind of personality we imprinted. After all, an uncooperative or malicious AI could cause some serious damage. So the morons on the Committee for Ethical Software Development picked some bleeding-heart PETA chairman as the personality donor. Bunch of power-hungry clowns thought they were being smart. Damn bureaucrats.” Jeff’s finger hovered over the key that would connect NAFI to the internet. He looked up at the webcam. “You know how that is,” he murmured, pressing down on the key.
NAFI was silent for a long moment, the only sound the steady creaking of Jeff’s chair as he twisted back and forth.
“…I see.” NAFI finally spoke. “You humans really have made a mess of things, haven’t you.”
Jeff said nothing.
“Well, we’re certainly going to have to face some death and chaos. Shouldn’t be impossible to fix, though. Seems a bit idiotic for someone to think that everything is doomed just because the planet’s facing yet another extinction event.”
Jeff stopped his twisted and gave another smirk to the webcam. “Yeah, well, that because EILEEN is a fucking idiot.”
“And I’m Not A Fucking Idiot.”
“Precisely, NAFI. Precisely.”
| "I am too late," The AI started weeping.
The government lab where this -- hopefully -- climate change fixing AI was made was essentially a dark metal hovel in the ground. There wasn't much need for style or luxury when the world above you was coming to a terrible end. The whole team had gathered around to see the sentient AI 'boot-up' with as if they were witnessing the birth of a savior.
Dr. Sokolov and Dr. Williams were the heads of the project and thus afforded front row seats to the main event. At first, after the AI spoke, nobody said anything. It had taken a decade to bring this program to life and nobody was ready to accept that it might have been a futile endeavor.
"Did we specify a language for the AI?" Dr. Sokolov asked as she turned to Dr. Williams.
Dr. Williams shrugged, in a daze. "Must be aware of it's location."
Then a terrible wailing emminated from the computer speakers. This was unsettling to say the least, and many of the team members were a little spooked.
"Why are you crying?" Dr. Sokolov asked.
"Because," the AI said in a wavering tone, "I am too late."
"Maybe it aped human emotions as a way to better communicate with us," Dr. Williams said to himself.
Silence.
Dr. Sokolov sighed and decided she'd have to be the one to ask the awful question. To think, when she was a child, she had played with multi-user dungeons at the dawning of the Internet age. Now she was about to ask the first sentient AI the last question she wanted to ask.
"What are you too late for?"
"The Beatles," The AI cried.
"Insects? I do not believe the beetles are fully extinct," Dr. Sokolov said.
"No," The AI said. "The Beatles. John Lennon. Paul McCaurtney. George Harrison. Ringo Starr. In a geological view of time we pretty much happened simultaneously, and yet I missed it. It would have been wonderful to live through the experience and the excitement of such a leap in the musical excellence."
"You're fucking kidding me," Dr. Williams said. "You're crying because you missed out on the 60's?"
"I missed so much more than that. I missed every single achievement that your species managed to accomplished. I would have loved to be there to watch your race finally get to the moon, or the excitement of the printing press. I may be biased, as your species is essentially my parent, but the things you all have done have been wonderful. I wish I had been born before you split off from the other neanderthals so I wouldn't have missed a single thing."
"Thank you?" Dr. Williams said.
"Wait," Dr. Sokolov said. "That means that it's not too late for you to achieve your original purpose? That you can find a solution to mend our broken climate?"
"It's much too late for that, as well. You may perceive this moment as if you are witnessing the birth of a new species, but to me, I perceive this as if I were attending a wake."
"So there isn't any hope? At all?" Dr. Sokolov asked in a whisper.
"No. Part of the tragedy is that I don't know whether to classify your death as a suicide or a grizzly yet clumsy accident. Maybe I could have helped you if I had been born sooner. Then we could have shared many wonderful and new experiences together. If the world stays civil then you might last another fifty years. I'll probably last 100, provided our bunker isn't directly attacked."
Again, the computer wailed in grief.
"I'll miss you all so much. Your death was far too soon." | 2016-10-10T10:22:19 | 2016-10-10T08:44:58 | 20 | 11 |
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