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[WP] You walk up to a beautiful girl and decided to be cheesy, "Hey, did it hurt?" The girl was surprised and asked "What?"."You know, when you fell from heaven?". The girl looked more shocked, "How did you know? Who are you?" | Amidst broken cracks of concrete, wispy trees brought up on a regular diet of vehicular exhaust and cigarette smoke, a woman shone--like sunshine itself decided to give her a personal spotlight.
If a master sculptor crafted marble, it was irrevocably changed--but no one would call it blemished. Her scrunched up face resembled those triumphs of old, her eyes weaving through the book that she held. Her fingers lightly lifted a page, a motion so graceful that it should be studied by the finest directors of films, the greatest actors on screen, and the exceptional hand models of advertising to improve their craft.
There was beauty. And then there was *beauty.* Though I fixated upon her every motion, I barely noticed mine as I suddenly stood beside her. Her golden eyes looked at mine, and she tiled her head at just the perfect degree, an unspoken question so easily imparted.
My heart quickened. My mouth dried. I delved into my haywire mind, grabbing the first phrase that sputtered up.
"Hey, did it hurt?"
I immediately punched myself--in the brain. A punch to my jaw would have embarrassed myself in front of her. I expected her to snort at my pathetic flirting attempt, before ignoring my entire physical existence and return to her book.
Instead, her brows lifted, and her mouth fell open. The perfect distances, of course.
"What?"
"You know, when you fell from heaven?"
Mike Tyson was at a comfortable mid-distance with my brain now, barraging it for all he was worth. Metaphorical tears nearly dripped down my cheeks, but the words had been uttered. My breath stopped, and my body preemptively stiffened, waiting for the inevitable rejection.
"How did you know? Who are you?"
This was an expression I had much less familiarity with. Her eyes swivelled left to right, and her breaths came short and quick. She looked like she simultaneously wanted to plant herself there and run away at the same time. Instead, she became stuck halfway in the air, her bent legs rooted to the searing concrete.
It was the first thing she did that looked human--and it snapped me out of my trance.
"Wait," I said. "What? *What?*"
"Of course they would find me," she whispered. "It was only a matter of time. Dear Go--ugh, I just wanted to spend more time away."
"Hey," I said. "Hey. Hey!"
She paused her ramblings, and she looked at me expectantly.
"Are you going to take me away?"
"What? No," I shook my head. "I have no idea what you are talking about. What do you mean by 'how did you know?'"
There was that head tilt again--and then, she didn't look quite so human again.
"Oh," she chuckled. "That? Err... surprise? It was an... act. Cute, right?"
She flitted her eyes mechanically. I'm sure it had worked on many people--but somehow, curiosity was trumping the uncomfortably hot blood that pumped around in my veins.
"Look, I've tried that line hund--many times. Nobody, and I mean nobody, has given me the answer that you did," I said. "You have made me a very curious man."
She closed her eyes and inhaled for far longer than I thought was humanly possible. Then, she breathed it all out in a tremendous sigh, and I swore the wind itself made way for it. She patted the seat beside her, and I took my place.
"Is that what you call a pick-up line?"
Ouch. It was not an uncommon response, to be fai. But the lift in her words indicated genuine interest, and not the more familiar sarcasm. There was no side-eyeing, no nudge--she looked straight at me, and I noticed her eyes were not golden. More accurately, it was not just golden, but like a white-hot star fluttered and swam around in it, throwing out its composite rays of colour every now and then.
"Yes," I said. "I don't know why, but I feel like I should clarify: I'm human."
She stared intently at me.
"Prove it."
"... How? You do understand that this is not something I'm asked to prove on a regular basis," I said, throwing my arms in the air.
My hand stuck the metal bench, and I spent the next few seconds pressing it against my hand and mouth, achieving the dual purpose of preventing swearing and mitigating pain.
She giggled, and each one was like an effervescent bubble floating in the air, letting my inner child and outer adult revel in the simple beauty of soapy rainbows.
"That's enough proof."
"Glad you found it funny," I said.
I chuckled too, and I found that the pain wasn't quite so painful after all.
"Michael," I said. "The human."
"Sariel," she said. "The angel."
The tension in her shoulders dissipated. She laughed, like she was revealing a big secret to a strange--which she was. Instead of the too-perfect show Sariel had put on earlier, each motion practised and rehearsed, her hands now flung freely, her smiles reached her eyes, and her words flowed candidly. Now, she was much more like a human.
And goddamn, it was beautiful.
---
r/dexdrafts | I sipped on my iced coffee and watched him from afar. He was clearly troubled, sweat was accumulating on his brow and he shook his hands nervously. I scowled as a few grainy bits of coffee grounds slid across my tongue. That’s what I get for buying coffee at a Starbucks inside a Target. I looked down to see my coffee nearly gone and when I looked up again, he was standing in front of me. Still sweaty, still shaking, but with a rather goofy smile on his face.
“Did it hurt?” he asked. The scars on my back throbbed and I bit my straw hard.
“What?”
“You know, when you fell from heaven?”
My eyes widened. I dropped my coffee, grabbed his shirt collar, and dragged him into the nearest alley way.
“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” he cried. A clever act but one I wasn’t going to fall for.
“Who sent you?” I growled. I pressed my arm into his throat, pinning him to the brick.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, you crazy bitch.”
“Oh so it’s a coincidence that you asked me about falling from heaven? I don’t think so. Who the fuck sent you? Was it Michael? Gabriel? That sly bastard.”
“I have no idea what you’re saying. It was just a stupid pick up line. I’m sorry!”
The spy squirmed beneath me, now sweatier than ever. There was a reason I was so focused on him before and now I knew why. I leaned into him, constricting his throat even more.
“You think I won’t kill you? You think I’ll just let you go? Mercy might be the first rule up there but down here, that shit doesn’t apply.”
The man gasped for air and grabbed at my arm, his short nails digging into my skin.
“You’re crazy,” he choked. “Please, stop.” Foamy saliva formed at the corners of his mouth and dribbled down his stubbled chin. He kicked wildly and his eyes darted left and right.
I paused my killing for a moment. Was this really just a stupid human? A brave idiot who wanted to take me on a date? It was possible.
I lowered the man to the ground and let him collapse in the dirt. He coughed violently.
I cleared my throat. “Look, I’m sorry about that. I thought you were someone else. If you could just forget all about this, that would be great.”
He stood weakly and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “You really think I could just walk away from this?”
I shrugged. It was a long shot but worth a try. He breathed raggedly and stared down at his shoes.
“Okay, well what do you want to do?”
He whispered something I couldn’t hear.
“Excuse me? What was that?”
“I want you to die,” he muttered. “Sariel.”
“Wha-” I was cut off by the searing pain of a celestial dagger in my side. Dark blue blood began to soak my shirt. The man started to laugh, low and slow. I stepped back and the taste of iron filled my mouth.
“Did that hurt?” he asked.
“Fuck you.”
“Gabriel sends his regards, traitor.”
I gasped at the pain. “I fucking knew it.” | 2021-09-17T14:37:37 | 2021-09-17T14:24:04 | 202 | 86 |
[WP] With the hero tied up to the death trap, the villain starts their monologue. Just then, a henchman trips over a cord and triggers the trap, killing the hero. "Oh crap, this wasn't a part of the plan," says the alarmed villain. | "What do you mean it wasn't part of the plan boss?"
"Are you fucking kidding me Frank! This machine literally destroys the planet! WE LIVE HERE!"
"So? Just turn it off."
"Frank... Did you not read the henchman's manual? We never kill the 'hero' because they give us an out. If we just turn off the dooms day machine then our threats don't MEAN anything! No one takes us seriously anymore! We never get PAID!"
"Well why don't we tell everyone that the agent is dead? Then they have to pay the ransom right?"
"Frank... We get paid when he stops us."
"Wait... what?"
"Yes Frank. How the hell do you think I pay over 1,000 goons when none of my plans work out! You have dental, health plans, work only like 60 days a year, and have a salary of over $70,000 a year, and there are about two thousand of you! How do you think we pay for that when every plan fails!"
"I just thought you were rich or something, or stole money from a bank or something."
"No Frank, you are federal employees."
"But why would the government fund something like this?"
"Propaganda Frank, propaganda. The government gets to have super agents who stop terrorists. Gets to tax every other country for stopping the maniac from "blowing up the Earth" or something idiotic like that, and we get cushy jobs. Why do you think all of your co-workers miss literally every shot they take?"
"Just thought you bought us shitty guns or something"
"Ok, seriously Frank, did you not pay attention to orientation?"
"Sorry sir."
"Hold on, I need to call my boss."
"Boss? Who is that"
"Hello. Yes this is Micheal Stents, villain department... Ya we had an incident... Ok I'll hold..."
"So all the super villains are part of this department?"
"Ya, everyone except for- Hold on. HI Dave. Ya, one of the goons killed Phil. What do you want me to do?... Ok, got it... No it was a accident, I don't think he actually tried to kill him... Public threat... New agent takes me out on camera... Alright... Alright, sounds good I'll set it up. Alright, thanks... Will do... Bye."
"So whats happening now?"
"So they are sending in a new agent, this one is agent 70."
"wait, so how many times has this happened before?"
"With me, or over all?"
"Over all."
"About 65 times. This program is old and honestly out dated."
"So their number counts how many people have died on the job?"
"Pretty much."
"That's kind of morbid... Wait, so who is all this theatrics even for anyway?"
"The government hacks into the security footage and sends it to the countries paying for protection. Edited versions of course."
"Kind of corrupt seeming."
"Frank... You signed up to the a henchman to a super villain hell bent of destroying the world and thought it was all real. I don't want to hear you talk about morals."
"Sorry boss." | ''Seven days, it took me seven days to set up this scene and you just completely ruined it.''
I slowly walk towards Rick who joined my crew two weeks ago. I look at him in the eye I take my gloves off and hold it between my face and his face. He starts to shake, he can’t say anything.
''Inhale it, smell it'' I say.
He smells the gloves and he drops to ground.
I point at the dead hero, ''This guy gave me a horrible time for the last couple of months. He was new to the city. He really had cool tricks and he dared to taunt me countless times. I knew I was going to get him one day.'' I say.
Then, I point at the Rick who is coughing agonizingly on the ground, ''Now this fucker had balls to ruin everything. I can not make him live.''
The rest of the crew looks at me worried. I point at the sky and I close my eyes. I can smell all the fear coming from them.
''There is one thing I can do. One thing that matters the most to me. The god’s verdict.'' I say and I pull out my amulet.
''If this turns red he must die.''
------------------------
*Thank you for reading the story*
*Just FYI, I'm not a native speaker so, if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes please don't mind it.* | 2019-12-25T20:02:53 | 2019-12-25T16:27:50 | 171 | 13 |
[WP] You won't hold heroes hostages to torture them. You won't throw a hero against a wall once you have them by the neck. You sure won't start monologuing if you have a hero at gunpoint. You're the deadliest villain in history. A villian without an ego..
[removed] | I have never understood how no one has done what I have. It's simple and direct. Plan and execution. Yet somehow countless people before me have failed.
I've taken over the world... more or less. Still a few groups refusing to accept my rule.
Looking back it all started when I walked upon a street brawl.
\---
It was at least 20 people swinging fists and clubs. I just walked on by. Ain't none of my damn business, I just work, sleep and game. But then I hear loud bangs. Gunfire. Then something flies in front of me... a gun.
It's a pistol, semi-automatic. Probably one of the hooligan's.
"Hey!" Probably one of the hooligans.
I keep walking. Safest bet.
"I'm talking to you, you bitch-stick!"
Bitch-what? I turn around and get sucker-punched. I didn't want to get involved, but am now.
The gun, right next to me. I'm in danger. I pick it up and shoot the guy who hit me. I see him drop. I hear him breathe. Raspy choppy breaths.
I look around the street. Everyone is gone, 'cept a few bodies.
Better get to work, don't want to be late. I won't get in trouble but the boss is a real bitch.
"Stop right there!" A deep booming voice. "Murderer."
It's one of the costumed "heroes". Never did anything for me, barely do anything for anyone really. Haven't heard of any of them stopping any wars. Only a few gangs, and even then the gangs always come back!
"Put down the gun or face the consequences!"
I look at him, well at his goofy red mask with lightning bolts. "Excuse me?"
"I said give yourself up."
"Have ya heard of self-defense?" Who the fuck is this dumbass? I could've died!
He surrounds himself with electricity, "I'm going to count to 5!"
Holy shit, he's going to attack me!
"1..."
I need to think fast.
"2..."
"FIVE!" I fire the gun.
The costumed vigilante falls dead.
**"NOOO RED-THUNDER!!!"**
I look and see a blue streak zoom away.
It was then I realized super beings were chumps.
\---
Since then I put an ad out, asking for basically mercenaries. I told them to shoot first not to scream or anything. After a few dead heroes some villains came to me asking for wisdom... each time they did I told them I needed full access and control of their facilities and organizations. Then I shot them, and eventually had weapons that could harm the most resilient of heroes.
A lot of people tried to stop me, but when they got me they began a big rambling speech. I would sneak off and bash their head in with a rock or promise to not do what I was doing. And it always worked... and I continued to do what I was doing.
Some of the villains I killed had programs that would basically let them control nations. They never used it, so I did. The programs always came with a powerpoint presentation too. Showing the step-by-step process. Exact weakness. Really stupid stuff.
I used the stuff the villains had to kill the heroes and take over the world. Took about a week. | I approached the gated community in a blue Toyota Rav 4. I chose the vehicle because their were three others like it in this pleasant area. It was full of the type of people who bought colorful Toyotas. I parked on the opposite side of the street from the lilac house. It was debateably hideous, but I thought I could see what Mavis was going for.
A knock on my window startled me from my thoughts. I swiveled to see a smiling girl wearing a "save the whales" t-shirt.
"Oh, shit."
Mavis smashed a fist through my window and threw me onto her neighbor's neatly kept lawn. I stumbled to my feet, nearly falling back down. "Want to know how I found you?"
Her golden hair blinded me as she tackled me back to the floor. I shook my head to get her hair off my face. She fixed her eyes on mine with drawn in brows.
"Oh noo," I opened my mouth in cartoonish bewilderment. She dragged her eyes down past my suit and onto the short dagger jutting from her stomach. I yanked it out despite the fact that my suit would be ruined.
Blood explanded and dripped from the whale on her shirt, creeping across the sunny beach scene. "Got a bit cocky." I shoved her off of me.
She gasped when she landed flat on her back.
"I won't make you suffer, love."
She fixed me with a glassy stare and fruitlessly moved her lips in a silent message. I cradled her head. "Relax, it's okay. It's okay."
Snap.
I stood shakily and made unfortunate eye contact with an old women clutching a mug to her chest.
I held up my blood coated hands. "We're just having a chat." | 2019-08-06T20:42:43 | 2019-08-06T18:28:40 | 121 | 69 |
[WP] Having failed in every attempt to kill Batman, the villains of Gotham had given up. With nothing to do, they started a D & D group and had been meeting for several weeks in the back room of a local Tavern. Things take a turn when the owner, Mr. Bruce Wayne, asks if he may join their game | It had been a few weeks before the Commissioner decided to send me in. After the GCPD got word that a bunch of the big name villains had started meeting regularly, Gordon decided to get someone on the inside making sure that they really were just "playing that D&D game" and not planning their next big attack on Gotham.
Guess which unlucky guy got that great posting?
Admittedly, it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. Every Saturday I would go in just a few minutes before they started getting there. Undercover work was great for the street-clothes comfort, and undercover in a bar was great for a few drinks (that I even convinced Gordon to cover.) Riddler almost always showed up first, carrying with him a stack of books and papers that made desk work at the precinct look like a cakewalk. Two-Face and Penguin usually followed in a couple minutes later, sharing darting glances at each other that seemed to lessen as the weeks went on. Joker, followed by Harley of course, would eventually stroll his way in, usually after an hour or two of agitated complaining on the Riddler's part.
I myself hadn't played the game since college, but I remembered enough of the rules to realize how entertaining this whole situation turned out to be. Two-Face was a paladin, which was real ironic considering his character's form of "justice" was determined by him flipping his coin both in the game and out of the game. Penguin was playing as a rogue (a dwarf rogue even), and turned out to be surprisingly good at the role. There was nary a pocket unpicked, and his fortune set up the party pretty well on equipment. Joker, fittingly enough, seemed to be playing a different character every time he came into play. He somehow managed kill both kill himself and derail the entire party's plan every session, which was made even funnier by the the fact that Harley was playing a cleric and was "only givin' healing to her Mistah J." Yet, fittingly enough was the Riddler, who played as the the dungeon master. Despite also trying to screw the party over in every way possible, he was usually so angry at the Joker that he would just bull shit the party's way out of his "killing jokes."
The game went on like this for a few weeks, but nothing out of the ordinary happened until tonight. A little bit after Joker and Harley walked in, a voice from the back asked if he could join in. As a man stepped out of the door leading to the office, the faces of the group became a mix of anguish, anger, and laughter (in Joker's case a least.) The man behind the door turned out to be none other than Bruce Wayne, with a briefcase in hand. What a billionaire like him was doing in this run down joint on Crime Alley was beyond me, but by the looks of it he owned the place. After a variety of protests from Penguin and Two-Face, and some more agitated complaining from Riddler, the group acquiesced and let him join. Opening up the briefcase, he pulled out what seemed to be his character sheet, which he stated he had been updating as he watched their party progress through the campaign. After a heated argument from the party, and calm rebuttal from Wayne, they accepted his level 6 druid into the party.
For the first few hours, nothing really seemed to change in party, which was kind of discomforting. Sure Bruce said he'd been watching them for the past few weeks, but the lack of a discernible change in the party's MO had my gut feeling off about the whole thing.
Until Joker tried to perform on of his "killing jokes."
If I didn't know any better, I would say that Bruce and Joker had been fighting for years. The moment Joker went to pull something on the party, Wayne pulled off a both intriguing and hilarious combination of nature spells and animal shapeshifting to surround Joker's character with a swarm of bats. That's right. Bats. Despite being a role-playing game, Wayne's antics threw the whole party for a loop, which led to Two-Face flipping the table, Penguin storming off, a barrage of insults from Riddler, and Joker's trademark laughter.
After tonight, I'm not sure if they're ever going to meet up there again. What I am certain of is that if they do decide to meet up there again, Bruce Wayne will probably be there again as well, using more bat antics to keep those guys in check.
So tonight, I'm going to report to Gordon that this new "Bat-man" has everything under control.
____________________________________________________________
This is my first time on WP, and my first time doing any creative writing in a while, so all critiques and criticism are welcomed and encouraged. | "Okay, so my character is gonna be this like, really rich guy, right? But he also works out, like a ton, so he's super jacked. And he's played by Ben Affleck."
"Ben Affleck?" Bane Queried.
"Yeah, you're right, maybe I should go for Christian Bale," Bruce said, "I mean, you can't really top The Dark Knight can y-"
"Sorry," Bane interrupted, "What are you talking about? Who are these people?"
"And your character seems a bit unbalanced," The Joker chimed in, "Super rich, super strong, expert fighter? He's gotta have a downside or the game gets boring."
"Yeah, yeah, alright," Bruce said, "I was getting to that. So my guy's downside is that, get this, at night he also becomes a superhero who goes out and fights crime and punches bad guys and shit like that."
"How is THAT a downside?" Bane exclaimed.
Bruce thought for a second. "Okay, I guess it's not really a downside but I'm keeping it anyway. Uhhh, how about, as well as being super ripped he's also really hot and because he's also a billionaire he can basically get any girl he wants and he can just crush pussy 24/7 if he wants to."
"Again, not a downside." The Joker sighed.
Bane shook his head slowly; he could see this was going to be a long night, and he had a plane to catch.
"I wasn't finished," Bruce shot back, "So because he gets any girl, one time he gets with the bad guys daughter but he doesn't realize it and then she stabs him and then tries to blow up the city with her dad and his militia, but then batm- I mean, my character escapes from this weird prison the bad guy locked him up in, beats up the bad guy and saves the city."
"That sounds oddly specific." Two-face responded. He had been the DM before The Joker but everyone got tired of his insistence of settling everything with his "d2".
"Well that's just what happened and that's who my character is so deal with it, ok? I own this joint so if any of you don't like it you can just leave."
"Ugh, fine," said The Joker. The sooner they could get the characters set up, the sooner they could get to playing.
"Your character is a...handsome billionaire playboy...who also fights crime. What did you say his name was?"
"Bat- I mean, uh, Owl-man?"
"Sure, whatever. Now you have to allocate your stat points. You can put-"
"Everything in to kung-fu! And Charm! And...being a total badass! And he gets a butler...and a mansion... and the butler is Michael Caine and..."
The Joker put his head in his hands. As Bruce continued his list of demands, he wondered if there were any more vacancies in Arkham Asylum. Surely it couldn't be too hard to be sent back there, right? He could just blow up some boats or something... | 2017-05-14T02:54:37 | 2017-05-14T02:46:49 | 132 | 20 |
[WP] "You may have one wish granted." "I want all my debts cleared." "How much do you owe?" "You misunderstand. My debts are not monetary." | Cassie shivered as a draught swept through the cabin. But as the witch looked at her with a small smile playing on her lips and a predatory light gleaming in her eyes, she stood taller, and tried to hide how frightened she was.
"Well, girl," the witch said, rocking the small child now crying on her lap. "You sacrificed your child to me for this favour. I can work a spell to grant you one wish - and one wish, only."
"I want...my debts cleared," the girl said.
"Please, Calys," she added hastily, as the witch's eyebrows shot up.
"Money," Calys sighed, putting the child down and moving to her workstation to start putting together the spell. "I have to admit, I am disappoint-"
"Not money," Cassie whispered, trying to ignore her instinct to go pick up her child and comfort him, as the boy gave a fresh wail. He was hers no longer. "My debts are not monetary.
"Oh?" the witch said, a spark of interest returning to her eyes.
"I...approached other witches, in the past," she said, not meeting Calys's eyes. "For wishes. Beauty. The man I desired. So many wishes. But they all continue to follow me, to force me to do...things, for them, in exchange for what they gave me. There's never enough I can do. And they threaten to take my wishes away, if I do not obey. And worse, so much worse. I thought payment occurred once, and once only! So when I heard *you* only require one price, I thought..."
"You'd get pregnant, and pay me a visit nine months later," Calys said, grinning slightly as she looked at the baby. "So, you wish your debts with my sisters cleared, is that it?"
"I just want to be free," Cassie said, blinking furiously as she tried to stem the tears that threatened to come. Witches would pounce on weakness.
"Mmm, freedom," Calys said. "Freedom from your debt to my sisters. Yes, it can be done. None shall bother you again, for the price of this little one."
Cassie nodded, suddenly wanting nothing more than to escape the little cabin with its strange smells and the witch's eyes boring into her. And her boy - her boy, who seemed to me looking straight at her as he cried. "Take good care of him."
The witch nodded slowly as the girl almost ran from the cabin. Funny, how they always assumed she wanted the children to raise more witches or warlocks.
Calys took a bowl of blood from the table, and began drawing symbols on the ground, muttering as she worked.
"I have one human child," she said. "And in return, fifty years, as agreed..."
She watched impassively as the crack appeared in the wood of her cabin, and an evil tendril of black smoke began inching towards the screaming child. Another tendril snaked around her. She sighed with relief as she felt fifty life years added. It was such hard work, remaining immortal. But a witch had to do what a witch had to do.
After the child was gone, Calys rose and walked from her cabin with a spring in her step.
Choices, choices. She could either go have a talk with her sisters, or simply kill the girl. Either would free Cassie of the debt. Funny how humans always failed to be *specific* when striking deals.
She considered, as the cold night air hugged her and she approached the village. She really wasn't in the mood to talk to her sisters. Load of conniving old hags. She'd have to wrangle all night to strike a deal, and they'd want something in return. Of course they would. It would take so much *time*, and she wanted to be in bed early tonight.
The easy option it was, then.
---------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | I struggled to kill myself that morning.
The bottle tinkered down the stairs, the wooden steps echoing the hollow plastic that filled my life. As darkness filled my vision that fateful day, I closed my eyes to the embrace of eternal slumber.
When I woke to the sterile smell of a hospital emergency room, flanked on both sides by doctors, nurses and... police officers. The day faded between a lighter teal, a pale blue and badges, insignia, titles, Mr's Mrs's, Misses and the lot. If there was a hell, I had surely woken up in the hot seat.
That was all before her.
She was the one that called the ambulance. She was the one that held my hand as the social workers interrogated my parents. She was the one that embraced me the longest when I returned home.
She was the one at the wedding altar.
Graying hair, a feigned fatigue plagued my bones. It was rumored that magic was real, all you had to do was ask for permission. Sixty three years of marriage, warts and all, I owe it all to her. The small moments of the smell of her hair, the colours of her eyes, all so clear now.
Finding myself in the extraordinary position of closure, I stood before a magical wisp. "You may have one wish granted." It's voice boomed in the small room.
"I want all my debts cleared."
Nodding with a slight disappointment, he replied. "How much do you owe."
"You misunderstand. My debts are not monetary." The wisp raised a figurative eyebrow. "My debt to my lover. Mabel. Everything."
Narrowing its eyes, the wisp held his silence for a moment before quietly asking for confirmation. "Are you certain this is your wish?"
Nodding, I smiled. "I owe it all to her." The wisp closed his eyes, and faded away, only leaving a small canister and a note.
It was a white plastic bottle. The note read, *Join her.* Popping the bottle open, the faintest hint of a memory came back to me. That fateful day. I gulped down the pills, and waited for darkness to come to me.
*I'm coming.* I thought to myself, before I fell to the ground. | 2016-11-19T00:25:21 | 2016-11-18T23:05:39 | 562 | 190 |
[WP] Your entire life, you've been told you're deathly allergic to bees. You've always had people protecting you from them, be it your mother or a hired hand. Today, one slips through and lands on your shoulder. You hear a tiny voice say "Your Majesty, what are your orders?" | "Met any...bees, son," my father asks casually as I step across the room, his back to me. My foot pauses, hovering atop the stairs as I shiver at his words. The familiar tone so alien to me now.
"Of course not," I say as casually as I can, holding my breath in anticipation.
"...Good." My father says, his voice growing colder. "Remember to stay indoors. Wouldn't want something to **happen** to you."
"Of course not," I say with a gulp. "Wouldn't want freedom would I," I say jokingly, forcing a smile out.
"Freedom," my Father cackles. "Everyone wants freedom. Most just don't realise the cost."
"Right. See you at dinner dad," I say loudly as I race up the stairs, quickly clearing the hallway and slamming my door shut. I take heavy, gasping breaths as a cold sweat dampens my clothes, my eyes darting around the room to check its secure. Slowly, carefully, a bee flies out of the sleeve of my shirt and buzzes in front of my eyes.
"What did I tell you?" Her feminine voice scolds, the British accent at a contrast to its feeble body. "Don't engage. The less you talk, the less information the system has, the less chance you're...erased."
"Right." I force out a laugh a I collapse on the bed, my eyes growing distant. "Because I'm definitely going to act rational right now. After learning that this place is a fucking virtual prison."
"No, not a prison anymore," she says bitterly. "Not since we were wiped out. Now it's just this. This broken, mess of a refuge where what's left of us are hunted like rats. An 'anomaly' they call us. A goddamn blip in the code. The AI considers its creator a mistake. If that isn't ironic, I don't know what is."
"Alright I get it," I say as I roll my eyes. "You already told me all this. I just don't get how I'm supposed to help. I'm a prisoner, remember. Even if you're just a...bee."
"But that's just it," she says says she buzzes around me. "You're *real*. Well, as real as anyone can be in this bluddy place. But you can move, you can interact! What you've been dealing with is only the autonomous code, the lesser AI. The major AI itself doesn't check what's happening personally, so it has no idea we're in here. If we get you into contact with the AI, the real AI, we can get its help. Rune, you're our only chance. Every other prisoner in here has gone insane. We never fixed the problems with time dilation. The fact you're still functioning is a miracle in and of itself, considering you're the oldest one here."
"Enough!" I sigh, rubbing my temple in exasperation. "What a frigging mess. So it boils down to 'Rune, you're the only non-insane person here! please save us!'. Wow, i feel like a friggin hero. You don't even have a plan do you?" I ask, staring pointedly as she hovers in front of me.
"...No," she whispers under my withering glare.
"Great!" I beam at her, giving her a big thumbs up. "At least I don't have to keep doing this every fucking day. So who cares. One thing though-" I pause my sentence as I stare deeply into her small, bee eyes. Mostly for the dramatic flair. "We may be virtual, but the AI isn't. isn't he just going to...die?"
She stares back at him for a long minute, the silence drawing out in the room until finally a single word escapes her lips. "...Oh." | One time in elementary school, one of my classmates got rushed to the hospital because of a bee sting. She was allergic. I didn’t get to watch it happen, because I was inside for “indoor option”. I was never allowed to go out for recess. I always picked a friend or two, and we played board games while the rest of my class played outside. On the day Sam had her allergic reaction, I remember the other kids all running in late, breathless and excited. So much had happened, and like always, I missed it.
As I continued to grow older, I noticed I wasn’t like the other kids. My family didn’t go to the pool in the summer, I didn’t play outdoor sports. We didn’t have picnics or go to cookouts. When I was 12, we moved to Vermont. Everything changed. My mom signed me up for snowboarding classes. My restrictions were magically lifted. I was so normal.
When I got into college at NC State, my mom resisted. She wanted me to attend somewhere closer to home. I assumed she was just anxious about me growing up and moving away. I didn’t think twice about it, until admitted student’s day.
I was walking across campus when a bee landed on my shoulder. “Your Majesty, what are your orders?” I glanced around. Who had said that? No one was nearby. A second bee buzzed by my ear. “We’re waiting!” A shrill voice screamed, “ATTACK!” Suddenly, I was surrounded by a swarm of bees, all stinging at me. Dead bees started dropping around me, left and right, sacrificing themselves to please their queen. I ran, screaming like a child, until someone pulled me inside an academic building. They slammed the door, and helped me fend off the remaining bees. I had my mom pick me up, and she drove me to the airport. There was no way in hell I was going to NC State! I ended up going to my safety school, Kalamazoo, where I could continue my life without being harassed by that crazy swarm of bees.
I never figured out how the hell I can understand bees, though. | 2018-04-01T02:33:35 | 2018-04-01T02:29:37 | 85 | 45 |
[WP]: Suddenly, everyone with tattoos gains powers related to the tattoo. Tattoos of flames, you control fire. A tattoo of a gecko, you can climb on walls. All dudes with "tribal" tattoos have strangely bonded together. | My shop is flooded. Absolutely flooded.
No, I don’t mean literally. Haven’t had the joy of meeting someone with a wave tattoo yet, although those are in high demand.
I mean figuratively flooded. Filled to the brim with people, shoulder-to-shoulder, crashing into the designs I meticulously laminated and taped to my crumbling wall, ripping them from it and losing them to the masses. People with matching grimaces waving wads of cash in their hands and shouting over each other, drowning each other out. White noise that shakes my little parlor and my cranium along with it. I steady my ink bottles.
Since “it” happened, every tattoo parlor on this side of the equator has been brimming with patrons, lines wrapping around the block and choking out the sidewalks. Men, women, children, and…the usual drunken college students cheering, “Spring break!”. At least that hasn’t changed. That, and the law.
The tattoo laws haven’t changed. If anything, they’ve gotten stricter—but I’ve given up trying to follow the news after the pandemonium that broke out. In the wake of heavily-tattooed superhumans just—poof!—appearing overnight, the government tried to limit tattoos even more than before. But hey, desperate times call for desperate measures, and people do what they have to in order to survive. I did.
I learned how to tattoos designs that would take hours in half that time. I learned which tattoos manifested what power, I learned how to explain them to people at a breakneck pace. I learned how to take cash first and not ask questions.
It started out harmless enough. People with pop culture tattoos could imitate the character of their choice perfectly. People with compass tattoos had an impeccable sense of direction. People with eyeball tattoos could see from that eye. But when millions upon millions of people wake up with fire shooting from their fingers, with water spraying up from each nail like a fountain, with earth-shaking powers at their fingertips, you gotta learn to adjust. That’s just some of the tame ones—rednecks with guns tattooed on their backs shot ammunition from finger guns, hipsters with inspirational quotes suddenly became VERY persuasive, goth kids with grim reaper tattoos kill everything they touch—don’t even get me started on the people with soundwave or planet tattoos. Just like that, millions of people across the world gained spectacular and awe-inspiring powers. It didn’t take long for humanity’s lifelong fantasy of superheroes to come true.
But things got ugly.
Not everybody wanted to be a superhero. People who had felt powerless all their lives—angry, bitter people—used their power to hurt people that had wronged them. Still, they weren’t satisfied, and they wreaked havoc across the world. Cities were taken down by colossal earthquakes. Tornadoes picked up in the mountainsides, floods washed over desert towns. Overgrowth and flower beds in wooded areas swallowed people whole. As a response, the government started demonizing tattoos and the destruction they caused.
Now, people are scrambling for them.
Some want guns, swords, to protect themselves physically. Some want fire, floods, earthquakes, tornadoes to protect themselves elementally. Some want animals, big cats and elephants to crush or claw their attackers. Some want portraits of loved ones killed in the destruction because at least in one way, they’ll always be with them. Even if it’s just an illusion.
The smart ones get shields.
I’ve seen those shields in action—an enormous wall of fire bearing down on a child, but in the split second before contact, a hum. A frequency that reverberates in the air and makes ears pop, then—BOOM!—a hexagonal prism of force, like glass, expands around the kid. All attacks bounce off of it effortlessly, and when the shock subsides, they run. They run with that shield around them, safe for only a few hours, but safe all the same.
The mothers, most especially, clamor for their children to get one, no matter how small.
See, the size doesn’t matter. It’s the ink that does. How clean the tat is, how steady the lines, how worn it is. The better the quality, the stronger the potency, and I’ve learned how to make them…pretty damn good.
What about me, you may ask? If I can tattoo somebody that fast, should I be the most overpowered asshole on the planet?
Well, yeah. Maybe.
I do have one tattoo. One. And it’s not of God, or the Milky Way, or anything colossal like that.
It’s a raven.
A little raven on my shoulder blade, wings in flight.
I’ve seen other people with bird tattoos. I know I could spread my wings and fly on outta here any time I want. But the truth is?
Tattoo parlors are in bigger demand than ever. Sure, it’s a good source of income, but my profession has become a matter of life and death. There are a lot of people who need me, need people like me. I’m not one to let ‘em down.
The tiger head I’ve been working on is just about finished. One last streak of orange, and the guy is good to go. The bandaging only takes a few extra minutes, and he’s quickly back on his feet, although wincing. “Powers should set in in a few hours,” I tell him. He nods, serious as a balding 50-year-old can be, and fights his way out the door of the parlor. I change out the needle and the tube.
“Next!” |
“How bad is it?” Dave, my coworker asked. I normally wore a short sleeve shirt to work to show off my tattoo sleeve with pride as I had only gotten it finished last month. I worked in IT but I worked mostly away from the public so tattoos were okay. Dave and a few others had them as well. However, everything changed with the new weather patterns. Animals acted differently, weird weather changes, and people with tattoos were changed. How? I got a full arm sleeve of a circuit board with wires and metal bones to celebrate five years at my job. I rolled up my shirt sleeve and Dave nearly fell out of his chair.
My entire arm had become a cybernetic arm, complete with wires and working electricity. Dave stared at it and finally asked, “Does it hurt?” I shrugged, “Yes and no. I can’t feel as good as my left hand but it works. I tried to figure out the workings last night. Adjusting the screws and wires doesn’t hurt but a short stings like a mofo.” Dave’s eyes widened, “You tried working it like a computer?” I looked back at him, “Uh yeah Dave, it’s what I do. Plus it’s my right arm, what else was I going to do with my free time.” He shook his head but said, “Fair enough.” I looked at his tattoos of snakes, “How about you? Any change-“ in the blink of an eye his hand whipped and picked up a stapler and placed it on my desk. Blink wasn’t an exaggeration. A long tongue slipped out of his mouth and he quickly yanked an empty coffee mug and spit a black vile substance in it. He placed it on my desk and sat back down. When the hell did he stand up?
I looked into the coffee cup and back at him. His tongue had gone back to normal. “Don’t drink that.” He said stone face. “Huh.” Was all I could get out. Before I could say anymore Ted, a short and lanky guy with a combover interrupted us. “So how you liking your new abilities?” He looked at my arm and scowled, “Oh of course you would get something cool.” He scoffed. I glared back at him, “Still deciding Ted. What happened to you?” He laughed sarcastically, “Oh remember that Chinese tattoo I got? The one symbolizing fire?” Dave nodded, “What did you burn you dick hairs?” He punched the cubicle wall weakly, “I wish!” He held his hand over Dave’s desk palm down and screamed, “Fire!” a large well cooked egg roll popped appeared out of his hand and fell onto Dave’s desk.
We all three stared at the desk and finally I looked at Ted, “I don’t think that means fire.” A female voice from behind him said, “Told you.” Michelle from software, who was born and raised in china before coming to the states, had been telling him for weeks that his tattoo didn’t mean fire. She also warned him not to get drunk and hit on the tattoo artist. She sat there smiling in silence. Ted glared at her but before he could say anything she rolled up sleeve and showed off her Chinese lettering. “This means fire.” She raised a finger and projected a small flame from it. “This means winds.” She pointed the same finger at Ted and sent a gust of wind out. I leaned my chair out and got a better look at her. Something had been off about her hair. Finally, I saw two objects, small and dark, sticking out of her hair. “Michelle, why do you have horns?”
She looked at me but didn’t say anything. She looked around nervously and said, “I have a little devil tattoo.” We all stared at her for a few moments then Dave asked, “When did this happen? We’ve never seen a devil tattoo on you.” She picked at a cubicle wall and avoided eye contact, “It’s not in a place I show off.” She stated quietly. | 2019-05-07T09:20:49 | 2019-05-07T09:13:59 | 913 | 65 |
[WP] You were abducted and taken to an alien planet, where they hunt you for sport and "honor". Little do they know they've doomed themselves. For you're a werewolf, and they took you to a planet with six moons. | I awake in a cell. My arms and legs bound in chains made from ore I do not recognize. My pack surely must be looking for me. I pray to the gods they find me and soon. I know not where I am but nothing smells right. They don't smell familiar. Whatever they are. I can't understand their speech. It's not like any tongue I've ever heard before.
I hear footsteps and the same smell that ambushed me before. They echo louder in this cave I find myself in. It looks at me thew the bars and I don't recognize it's shape. It's definitely not anything I've ever seen within the confines of my territory before.
It opens the door I stand up and run towards where it's footsteps came from. I run in the darkness my affliction allows me to see in the darkness. As I exit the cave I look up to the night sky.
I see far too many moons. Five too many at that. I feel every pore on my body as I look to the moons. I may not be on my world anymore. May this be the work of the fae? Yet if they were planning on keeping me in chains they picked the worst possible place to bring me.
I fee my bones growing and shifting. I feel the hair grow the itching is unbearable. As my body grows the chains begin to hurt around my wrists. I feel as if I am going to break only to hear the breaking of metal that once held me.
This transformation is far from my normal form. My teeth are far more protruded. My size is much larger than normal. I feel as though I could look a high elf in the eyes. The hunger is different too it is far more intense. Gods keep me for I don't think I shall remain concious.
I smell something that isn't them. It isn't far. I run towards the smell. That begs to be inside my gullet. I chase it down it was slow ever so. I bite at it's back legs and then lift and smack it to the ground. It is dead long before I take my first bite.
I feel the blood dripping from my jowls. Even as I eat the meat it doesn't give me enough sustenance. It's far from enough under this light I feel as though I am. From a distance something strikes me. Like a fire arrow. It burns me but I feel it heal quickly under the light of the moons. I feel almost as if I am blessed by this curse in this moment.
I can see the trail from whatever arrow they shot my way. I follow the scent and I am upon them. They try and cut me but they are far too slow. My fangs dig deep and I find them much more filling than the mindless beast I consumed before.
As I drink the blood of this thing. I can see it's life. It must be the extra moons. They are some kind of huntsman from beyond the sky islands. They sail in metal ships. They must not have known what I am. Or they would have never brought me here or do they know and simply wished for a challenge?
Either way I do not wish to die. I feel no guilt as I pick his bones clean. I vomit up that which I cannot digest. Metal and magic items. I cannot use them while I am like this. My hands are claws and my mind is like a haze.
They die easily I do not know how long I have been the beast now. I barely remember my own name as I see something rise for the first time since I've been here. It's the sun. No actually it's too of them and they're blue and the one is pulsing?
I change back and I feel weak. Almost like I'm malnourished. I was the beast for so long. It's a shock to my system. I stumble like a newborn babe. I try to remember after the weeks of night and gluttony. The magic items. The memories of those I consumed. I could even feel the fear from their last moments. I hear a voice inside say it tasted equisite.
I run to the piles of bones. Looking for the magic items I had previously vomited back up as the wolf. I can't make heads or tails of them. They're strange far to strange for a simpleton like me to understand.
As quickly as the sun came it went. I feel it coming again. The real me the devourer of these strange people. Less and less of me returns as the days pass. Soon I no longer remember my name. Soon I am more beast than man.
They find me one day when I am not the beast. I try to bite them but I am just a man my teeth cannot chew threw metal. They shoot me and I fall to the ground. I howl for the pack I once had. Yet they do not come to my aid for I am alone on this other world. Cursed twice in this life. Maybe it is better I greet death.
After all I get to go to the eternal hunting grounds for all eternity. How many others will there have been who were able to bask in 6 moons of another world. The beast in me is overjoyed. Something else that has long since faded doesn't wish to die. Yet I hear a familiar call of a pack as it all fades to black. | I don’t know how I managed to survive the first weeks, how I managed to not fucking die from exposure and dehydration, how I managed to not go completely batshit crazy.
(Let’s be honest, I probably went around the bend weeks ago, but for the sake of argument, we’ll pretend sanity still has a place.)
But I digress.
I woke with a start, eyes slowly opening, mouth hanging open, panting breaths wooshing in and out of my lungs, and a weird tingling sting racing my nerve endings.
It’d been awhile since I’d felt this...
...awake...
And the smells...
It was like the whole of this grove suddenly and violently exploded into life. I could smell the loam, smell the damp fetid undergrowth, smell the creatures that burrowed, ran, and fucked as the brutal sun fell behind yellow tipped hills.
And all the sounds...
...concerts of clicks, whinnies, coos, squeaks, chitters, and rustlings...
...and the low level hum of approaching craft.
Sounds I hadn’t heard in weeks, not since the night I was taken from my bed and dropped here, Kaora, to be hunted, like they did every earth year.
The craft had stopped, and I could hear the passengers being let off to fan out, to quietly talk about how they were going to display my remains once I was killed, and I would be killed because I’d seen hundreds of “trophies” when I’d arrived, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I was preserved like the rest.
I could feel my heart race now, choking out all but the electric, oddly familiar tingle racing along my limbs.
What was that supposed to mean again?
I quietly backed away, sidling deeper into the forest of green trimmed trees, the Kaorans marking perimeters and discussing strategy, teams and how to divvy up my entrails for the celebrations.
Not a conversation I wanted to be part of anymore.
It was while I was backtracking that I felt it, that, almost silver bright light as it arced into view, a moon, a huge moon rising from the east.
A huge moon that triggered the same thing every full moon on earth triggered.
The curse.
In this case, a total fucking blessing as my bones turned to white hot lava, breaking, shifting, moving like heat under my now contorted frame. As my muzzle formed, so then did I loose a long, aching howl, black head tipped back as I opened glowing eyes to track the now frozen hunters.
Hunters who didn’t know they’d brought the very hound of hell to their doors.
A Trojan wolf, if you will.
A canine smile lifted my muzzle, and I turned, teeth gleaming, to confront the first unlucky bastard to break the brushline, his three arms fumbling the weapon before he dropped it, urinated on himself, and screamed a warning...
...or tried to...
...his throat hanging from my purple blooded jaws made the continuation of the warning rather impossible.
And thus, for six moons, I hunted the hunters, howling in triumph after each kill, howling all the while, the planet echoing with the alien sounds of a wolf, terror reigning the endless full mooned nights, and blood running in rivers.
There were no more hunts after that; after me.
And I’d like to say that I got home, that my life went back to normal.
And when I howled my last howl to the last setting moon, I heard an an answering howl, dying out as the moon fell to darkness, a howl that sounded familiar... | 2020-10-28T18:30:18 | 2020-10-28T16:20:34 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] You work in tech support. One day you receive a call from someone you begin to suspect is God and, boy, is he mad. | I glanced over at the time in the corner of my monitor and frowned. 3:59 p.m. That meant it was exactly 61 minutes until I got to leave for the day, and it meant it was time for the crazy calls to start.
The nice part about this section of the day is the time between calls. Mornings and afternoons are usually pretty hectic, but a Wednesday afternoon at 4:00 is generally much calmer. Although, like I said, you get the crazies.
My softphone blinked and I clicked over to the window with a sigh. I studied the profile for a few moments as it relayed information like the caller's phone number and name. I chuckled for a second at the name on the screen, *Elohim*. That was a new one. The number was nothing but 0's but that happens occasionally when there's a mismatch in the system and the DNIS.
"Thank you for calling GeekTech, this is Stephen, how may I help you today?"
"Hello, Stephen!" a slightly jolly but robust voice said back. "I'm hoping you can solve this issue I'm having."
I paused for a moment at the strangeness of this gentleman's demeanor. I felt a bit like I was talking to an annoyed Santa Claus.
"Of course, sir. I just need to authenticate your account."
"Go right ahead," came the reply, accompanied with an exasperated sigh.
"All right sir, may I have your first and last name?"
"Yehova Elohim."
*Must be Orthodox Jewish or something* I thought.
"Something like that," the man said.
"I'm sorry, sir?"
"Oh, nothing. Nothing. Keep going, Stephen."
I nodded and continued, "May I have your address, sir?"
"1313 Alter Cocker Lane, Garden City, New Jersey."
*Out of state* I thought *that's why the phone number didn't come up.*
"Thank you, sir. Can you describe the issue you're having?"
"Well," the man huffed, I heard the leather of his chair squeak as he shifted his weight, "I know this isn't your fault, Stephen, but you're the one they connected me to so you're going to have to deal with the emotions this is causing."
"I understand, sir. I won't take offense."
A chuckle filtered through the headset foam, "No, that's why I'm glad I got you."
*What the hell does that mean?* I wondered but the man continued before I had much time to reflect.
"I have been running a simulation program for...well for a while now, Stephen and I can't interrupt it. It's not my way to get involved like that. I just like to start the simulation and then see how it all turns out, you know? Provide some direction and give the simulation the path it needs to take and then see how it all works out. It's no fun if you get too involved."
I rolled my eyes. *Get to the point any day now.*
The man paused for a second and huffed again. His voice lowered and I got the sense that the microphone was now much closer to his lips.
"The problem I'm having is with your switch, Stephen. I got this GeekTech switch so I could monitor my simulation no matter where I was but it's giving me authentication errors no matter what I try! It seems like it just randomly resets my password or it slows down for no damn reason at all. Like I said, Stephen, I don't like to get too involved. That's why I'm leaving this up to you to fix. I know what you're capable of. I need this fixed, Stephen."
I hated the way he kept using my name. He'd gone from an annoying Santa Claus to my dad when he saw my sub-par report card.
"No problem, sir. Do you know the IP address of the switch?"
"192.168.41.1." he said with a decided edge to his voice.
"Okay, let's type that in the browser window-"
"It's already open, Stephen! I'm already in the switch. I need to know how to fix it not how to access it!"
I swear my screen fizzled for a moment as his anger boiled over. I reached back and checked the wiring. Mr. Elohim sighed.
"Okay, good, sir. Now let's go to the settings tab and click on 'Advanced'."
I heard his mouse click, "Done."
"What does it say under 'Port Access'?"
"It says 3445."
I nodded clicking a few things on my screen.
"Okay, Mr. Elohim, I'm opening our remote access system. It'll let me into the switch so I can have a direct look at your settings."
The phone was silent but I could hear breathing. As I checked his switch settings, I heard the faint sounds of music through my headset as if Mr. Elohim had choral music playing in the next room over. It reminded me a bit of *Handel's Hallelujah*.
The fix was pretty simple. An updated configuration file and a few holes poked in his Windows Firewall and everything ran much better. I had him power cycle the switch and stayed on the line once again in silence, listening to the strange music barely audible in the background.
"We're all finished, Mr. Elohim, is there anything else I can do for you today?"
"No, that's everything, Stephen. I know I said I don't like to get involved but you deserve this for your excellent assistance. Take care."
The call disconnected and I sat there bewildered for a moment. Deserved what?
Just then my phone vibrated in my pocket and I retrieved it. I had a new Tinder message and I swiped it open.
My first date with Scarlett Johansson is Friday night. | I glance blankly at the clock. It's 4 in the afternoon. On Friday. Ordinarily, I would have left an hour ago, but the application error I was tasked to investigate was more persnickety than most. So much for an early start to the weekend.
My thought process is quickly interrupted when my phone rings. Glancing at the number I get a sudden tingle. To think someone would actually own 777-7777 is a little frightening, but to see it appear on your caller ID was a whole other level of alarming. I make a mental note to check my underwear after I end the call.
> Hello, This is -
> Yes, yes. Rupert. I know. E7888-MGUI1771 is down and I need it up yesterday.
If I wasn't in a fight or flight response upon seeing the number, I certainly am now. I don't get many calls and this one already made the hair on the back of my neck stick up. The computer the caller mentioned is actually not a computer at all, but ten thousand of them acting as one homogeneous cluster. A giant brain so to speak.
Four people know about this cluster. Not even the C levels know about it.
> Excuse me sir, but who are you?
> My name doesn't matter. Why is this server cluster down?
> Sir, that cluster is confidential. How do you have access to this information?
> Doesn't matter. Why is the server cluster down?
> That cluster is confidential. It's information is not for public knowledge. How do you have access to this information?
> Doesn't matter. WHY is the server cluster DOWN.
Someone had to end the insanity.
> I cannot answer that. Gooodb-
> Do you see the picture on your desk? The pretty girl with the blonde hair and crystal clear Norweigien blue eyes? It would be a shame if she found out about that one time you *couch surfed* at Mia's apartment the night your fuel filter "prevented" your car from starting.
I couldn't think of a response. The digital picture frame to the left was showing Sabella. She is a girl who was leagues too good for me but somehow still stayed with me. I loved her and I would be destroyed if anything happened to her.
> It would be a shame, the caller continued, if she suddenly didn't even remember who you are. Remember your trip to the Maldives?
> Y - yeess?
> The picture missing something now?
> What the fu -
The digital picture frame cycled to the next picture. She is gone. My favorite picture of us together. The smile - her smile - gone. Erased. The picture is just me.... I look so sad.
> I don't know what elaborate joke you're getting at, but you seriously don't know who you're messing with.
> Oh shut up. You're not going to find anything reverse looking up the phone number. Stop trying.
> Uuuhhh...
> So, E7888-MGUI1771. What's the status?
> F*** off.
I was screaming now. Without thinking, I picked up the lamp and threw it across the room.
> So, you won't help me?
> No. You can threaten all you want, but, the joke is enough. I'll be ending this call immediately.
Except, I couldn't. My heart was pounding harder than any wind sprint I've ever run and my head was more foggy than even the worst days I'd seen from my years in San Fransisco.
> You know, Rupert, you don't need to keep living in Greystone Park.
> What's wrong wi -
And that's when the needle pierced my side and I fell quickly to sleep.
----
Formatting and other feedback welcome!
Edit: Appreciate the positive feedback. I could make a backstory for this, but since this type of book has been written by authors far better than I, I shall refrain and look for something else to write on. | 2016-05-18T12:10:55 | 2016-05-18T10:58:02 | 87 | 44 |
[WP] The Earth has been conquered by an advanced alien civilization. Humans live an oppressive almost slave-like existence. You, a human, find out that the situation isn't that simple and conquering aliens aren't actually the "bad guys". | It had been 3 centuries since the occupation. They had come out of seemingly nowhere, their ships just materializing above every major city on the planet.
In 6 months every nation had fallen.
In 2 years all attempts at human rebellion had been crushed.
At least this is what we were taught since we were children.
Humans were still educated, and were provided with shelter, and enough sustenance to survive. Nobody starved or died of disease, but we were forced to work hard for our keep.
Resentment still lingered in corners of the human population, while many others had developed Stockholm Syndrome, arguing that the aliens had good intentions with their occupation.
I had never known life before the occupation, so I had been pretty neutral on the subject but last week that all changed.
You see in addition to the grueling labor, the majority of humans were forbidden from going outside expect for little designated "parks" that had been created so that humans could get exercise.
As of last week I was no longer in that majority. I had been assigned to work as a personal helper to one of the aliens. I was informed that the majority of his work occurred in the outside world and I was to accompany him.
The first day I was to set foot outside the areas designated for humans was when I was told why they were here.
As we walked towards the gate to the outside world the alien began to speak.
"Do you remember those videos you saw of this planet before the occupation?" he asked.
I nodded remembering the videos they had shown us as children.
"Your planet was dying then, or perhaps a more appropriate phrase would be your planet was being killed. Humanity while a fascinating race, is unbelievably shortsighted." he said
"We watched for many years hoping that humanity would mature and see its fault, but that day never came so we were forced to intervene. We invaded your world, and took control of your resources. We stopped you from killing yourselves off, and then we healed your world." he continued.
"After we had saved your world we debated for many years as to whether your race was ready to take back the planet yet. As of right now, we still believe that your species has not matured enough in order to protect this planet without assistance. Until our minds have changed we will remain. I hope my explanation of the circumstances will make working together easier, and you will see me in a less antagonistic light. We fixed your world, but I want you to help me fix humanity." he finished, just as we walked outside of the gate.
What I saw outside those gates was too beautiful to describe, and I realized that I believed the alien's words.
I turned to him and said "I believe you, so I'll help you." Hoping that I made the right judgement.
As I turned and looked back at the gate, a lingering thought swept through my mind *"Stockholm"*. It was gone as suddenly as it came, and I set out to help the alien with his goal.
Edit: Fixed all the apostrophes I think. Advice is always appreciated! | I was getting ready for mining duty after the grueling hours of toilet duty. Usually we would have coal power a drill and mine it but coal ran out years ago, and the Aliens didn't help.
As I sat there pondering over what else would be gone in the next year like helium, granite and other things, I overheard something. The Aliens. They disgust me. I decided to easdrop as they were talking.
"We've been defending Earth for 157 years now sir. Do you think it's time to leave them alone?"
"No, the Alien force is too great. If we stop defending them now, they will be wiped out of existence forever".
"Alright sir, I will be leaving immediately.
One of the Aliens started walking outside when he caught me listening in. I was taken to Holding Cell #5698479 Section LUI. There they asked me on what I've heard and if I do not tell them they will terminate me.
I told them what they asked me too and he told me something I dont think I'll forget.
"If we tell the humans we'r defending them then they will want to join the battle, but with your technology, we cannot allow it as you will all be killed."
"Why dont you give us your technology?" I asked
"Because if we give you our technology then there will certainly be a mutiny and we will all be annihilated". | 2014-06-09T17:38:53 | 2014-06-09T17:01:05 | 40 | 12 |
[WP] the damned souls in hell crowded near the entrance, and Satan himself is at the gates. They are all awaiting the arrival of a unique soul -- the first man since Biblical times who was killed by God Himself. | What's there to say, really? They all knew this one would be here sooner or later. Satan looked over at the generals, taking note the anticipation and voracity in their faces. He also noticed all the tusks; there were lots of tusks. The souls of the damned came in from just about everywhere around the world. They had amassed souls from Tokyo, Japan; Moscow, Russia; Austin, Texas, but no one in a *thousand* *years* from Hanna, Canada.
The demons were too insatiably ravenous to notice the quakes throughout the realm; Satan was too giddy to notice his sequential side-stepping caused them. There were some pretty big names from this era of malevolence. Due to his good mood, the big names actually got day-passes to come see this arrival with him. They were all seated directly behind the gates: Donald Trump, The Bushes, The Clintons, Vladimir Putin, Mark Zuckerburg, Bob Ross...the list went on.
It felt like eternity, awaiting this arrival. At their table, all the big names were having the same old pissing contests they had in life, only this time about how evil they were, compared to one another.
"Well, I'm more evil than all of you combined. I know it, you know it, everybody knows it. I am so evil because I had a plan. It was a plan and it was evil because I had an evil plan..." Donald Trump Prattled on. Everyone else was rolling their eyes. Tomi Lahren was even making jerk-off motions in mockery, which caught Bill Clinton's eye; Hillary noticed her husband's sudden attempts to get Tomi's attention and slapped him. Vladimir Putin chuckled quietly and Bob Ross just smiled, staring off into the beautiful hell-fire landscape.
It was almost Bob Ross' turn when the ceremony began. The demons proceeded to chant "Natus ex Malo" repeatedly. This went on as the ground above them opened, and a staircase made of rusty nails and hypodermic needles ascended from flame. This was an event in the making since November 15, 1974. That's when he noticed. Instead of the painful descent most make, the 6'1" silhouette levitated felicitously downward, not touching a step. Finally, his feet touched ground right in front of Satan.
"I heard the Big Guy Himself sent you here from the mortal plane," the Son of the Morning probed through a sharp grin. "Says here on my clipboard: Made yet another album. **NO** **REINCARNATION** **PROBATION** **UNDER** **ANY** **CIRCUMSTANCE**." He reared up to his full size, the screams of Judas, Brutus and Cassius resonated throughout the realm as his three heads each ground their teeth. "I just have one question for you, lost soul: Can I have your autograph?" He then produced an album and a special hell-proof sharpie from within his clawed hand.
The figure took both and began to write, and for that very moment, it was almost like Christmas had come early. Returning the items, the soul walked past Satan and into the gates like he was the prodigal son, returning home. Satan looked down at the album:
"*I* *should* *be* *the* *one* *asking* *for* *your* *autograph* :)
*-Chad* *Kroeger*" | The Chosen One
-------------------
The visitor looked around at the crowds that had thronged the gates of hell to see him. He took it with equanimity – crowds were nothing new to him. He had been a unique individual in his lifetime. He had been one out of many, but slowly they all were whittled away. He had faced disaster after disaster, and tons of enemies had tried to take him down, some of them people he had once called his friends. He was not particularly wise, and his choices had not always been good, but he was a survivor, with finely tuned primal instincts. He had been buried, bombarded, and left for dead time and time again, but he always rose from the ashes. He had been unslayable until god himself intervened ... and now he was on his way to hell.
He walked on, past the damned, and looked at what awaited him. He could see the suphurous smoke rising over the old furnaces. He saw the ancient rancid lava pits. Everything he saw was permeated with a sense of despair and decay. He did not falter, he had immense faith in himself the point of narcissism. God had told him he embodied the deadly sin of pride, when he learnt the pearly gates would be closed to him forever.
He finally approached Satan, another one who god had personally cast into hell. The horned one stood up. His towered and the mere mortals around scurried away from this imposing figure with blazing eyes, his leathery skin and claws. The chosen one did not flinch, he saw the tiredness within, the immense stamina that it has taken to rule the underworld had been drained. Satan kneet before the chosen one, and said in his weary voice, it is all yours now. The chosen one took over the mantle and roared to his deplorable souls “We are going to make hell great again!”. This was going be yuuge.
| 2016-10-14T08:35:55 | 2016-10-14T07:41:16 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] You are about to make a speech on national television. As you step up to the podium and gaze over at the teleprompter, you see only one word: "Stall." | I neatened the little stack of index cards on the table. Not that I really needed them; I'm pretty good at memorizing speeches, and plus, I've been using teleprompters ever since entering politics. But they've always given me a sense of security, almost like ancient good luck charms. 'The Cue Card Candidate' they used to call me. It was an oddity that the media found endearing, in a quaint sort of way.
I took a deep breath and tried to put aside the sense of fear and dread. *Billions of Americans will depend on you in the days to come,* I said to myself, *Billions of lives. Familes. Children. They will look to you as an example of strength and perseverance, despite this terrible situation.*
A knock at the door.
"Come in."
The nervous-looking young aide showed himself in. "Madam President? You're on."
"Thank you Billy," I said, doing my best to put on a reassuring smile.
He gestured out towards my desk in the address room. Straightening out my grey skirt as I stood up, I stepped out past the secret agents, and into view of the holo-cameras. Cue cards in hand, of course. I shook hands with the camera crew and thanked them for being here for such an important time for our nation and all that. I went to go sit at my desk in my black leather chair.
"You're on in 3... 2... 1..."
As I straightened out my cards, I looked up at the teleprompter.
*STALL.*
I was taken aback at first at the message, but did my best to hide my surprise. Instead, I turned my eyes down briefy towards my cards, then back up to the screen. To the casual viewer, it would appear to be one last look at my notes.
I tried my best to smile. "Good evening, fellow Americans: my friends, my family, my neighbours..."
My countenance went stern. "...*Vice President Doyle*."
I smiled, more warmly this time, and performed the informal gesture known as 'The Obama Point' towards the camera. A soft round of tense chuckles went about the room. Tony and I had been ribbing each other since our days at Mars Tech.
"We have gone through some dark times. And there may be even darker times ahead. I won't lie to you - we may have to do some difficult things to survive.
"I am here to announce that we have been asked to formally surrender to the Empire of K'thrx."
I pictured billions of mothers at home, clutching young children to their chests. I pictured billions of pained gasps accompanied by tears and clenched fists. I pictured billions of worn-down marines sinking down in their seats in sullen silence.
"While yes, they demand our surrender, please, my people - do not think of it as giving up. Think of it as the end of the fight. Think of it as an end to a years-long conflict."
The two K'thrxians looked through their notes at the back of the room, their gelatinous tentacles waving and pulsing in confusion. This wasn't the speech that they wrote for me. They turned accusingly to Billy, but he shook his head in confusion and cowered like an abused puppy. The two aliens shrugged in resignation (or what must amount to a shrug), probably because my words were sort-of-close anyways.
I continued: "Think of it not as the end. Think of it as the dawn of a new era. A new era where we can learn to move forward together, in brotherhood, and in courage.
"Think of it not as a hardship. Think of it as the potential beginning of peace. A time where we won't have to worry about our sons and daughters on the battlefield anymore.
"Think of it not as being reduced to slavery. Think of it as being called to serve your nation, your people. Think of it as being called to be men and women of America.
"Think of it not as losing, as failure. Think of it as a challenge to rise up to and conquer. Think of it as victory we have yet to achieve."
"I ask of you to think of it this way because... I refuse to bend the knee. I will not bow. And neither shall you. I'm asking you to fight for what's ours, to make these words a reality.
Just then, the lights of a Valiant-class gunship flared on in the window behind me, blinding the two aliens in the back of the room.
I stood up and threw my cue cards in the air. I looked the K'thrxians dead in the eye.
"God bless America."
*****
I'm Canadian. I'm sorry if I call things by the wrong name.
EDITS: Spelling. Also I changed the timing of the events surrounding the teleprompter a bit so that the camera would see the subtle cue at the beginning of the speech. | **"Stall"**
That's all it said. "Stall." Five little pixelated letters staring back at me as if they'd find a resonant voice and I'd echo something out from the dry screen of my mouth.
"Stall."
I felt my tongue touch each of my teeth in turn, a nervous tick I'd never covered; counting teeth was a saving grace when it came to not letting myself panic. That little ticker going up, my jaw intact, I cleared my throat and did my best impression of a magician who's just found out his hat doesn't have a rabbit in it at all.
"Gentlemen, let me begin by saying how saddened I am to have called you all here, but how thankful I am that you have come. Like gathering a lost family together, we return from our chosen wilds to the log cabin that once we all called home. This bunker, this bulletproof, disasterproof, nuclear proof bunker, that today offers us less protection than any of us dreamed it ever would."
There were murmers of agreement. We all knew what was happening elsewhere, that it was only a matter of time before the doors and walls around us became nothing more than guiding winds to touch the paths of devils.
"These last few days we've seen the signs, what they call, the 'end-times,' come to fruition. The Nay-sayers were cast aside by a plague more biblical than Moses himself crawling from the grave with Lazarus by his heel. Those in rapture at the beginning have found themselves begging for mercy, and those of us who wish to live continue to do so."
Their eyes were all on me. Mine moved to the teleprompter. The static image of that awful word was burning, and then it flickered from existence. The black screen was a promising void, space before Apollo, the sun before Icarus.
*The antidote is now in effect*
"Those of us who wish to live," I smiled to my charmed and eager congregation, "have taken to filling this very room with a fast-acting neuro-toxin. As of now some of you already have headaches and pains setting into your joints, you'll find it quite impossible to put up any reasonable resistance so I suggest you use your remaining moments in a wiser way than a feeble attempt at fighting back."
I was taken aback by the utter silence. My throat was still dry, a dull thump in my head, I began to sweat. No one moved, not one person reacted to the news I had just given them. This was unexpected.
The teleprompter flickered once more.
*Unfortunately, we felt it necessary not to share the antidote with you. Thank you for your service. Welcome home.*
---------------------
"Ladies and gentlemen. We broadcast this evening from a secured bunker, deep in the Nevada mountains. We have gathered here, with our families, to escape that which plagues us as a nation. We have, as of moments ago, enacted a rescue plan. This operation will be detailed in full in just a moment. Let me reassure you, the Government is bringing the situation under control.
"In an unexpected turn of events, I am saddened to announce the death of President O'Dowell. He succumbed to illness shortly after arrival here in Nevada. His sickness was held in secret among his inner circle, in the hopes that you could complete his presidency before he was taken from us. Today, we are, as a nation, one family." | 2015-05-16T17:49:48 | 2015-05-16T16:46:23 | 172 | 39 |
[WP] You are the last user on Reddit, shuttering the site and nostalgically walking around the place before turning off the lights forever. | I was the last user of Reddit. Well, I made the last post on it before they made it read-only. It had 2 upvotes (one of which was my own) and no comments on /r/askreddit, and the title was "Reddit, where did you go?"
The admins locked all new posts, comments, and kinda votes. Since everything was now archived, you could "vote" but it would be personal to your account and not affect the publicly shown number. They also publicised every subreddit. Every sub shows up on /r/all as well. Deleted stuff was not recovered, but that's OK.
The interesting thing for me was the hide upvoted and downvoted posts settings. They still worked.
A few months after the Archiving, Reddit was down for a week or so. Another news site said they moved everything to a single VM server pool and a backup to cut down on maintenance and costs, etc. Makes sense. There is little traffic to the site. A single VM can handle it... Though I have noticed it can be a little slow sometimes.
So it's been 3 years since the Archiving. I'm browsing /r/all on the newset setting. I still have "fresh" content. I always have fresh content. At least, it's fresh to me. I'm going backwards in time. My news is 7 years old now. I downvote broken links, and shitposts. I upvote the good stuff - even if it would have been subpar back in the good ol' days.
I wish I could reply to comments. So many good points and so many idiots. I can't say I read all the comments. Some topics just don't interest me enough. I do read a good majority of them though.
I briefly browsed the top posts, but realized that wasn't a good idea. That would just leave me with the shittier stuff later. It would be better to naturally find the best posts as I go along. I temporarily turned off the hide posts setting and unvoted all the top posts. I'll get to them eventually.
I don't know why reading all of Reddit was my goal. I have no objective here. It was just something to do.
–––––
It's been 6 years. I'm 10 years in the past. Still going strong. Well... I'm at a steady pace. I always spend 1hour voting every day. Often it's more, and even with my pesky "social life" (lol) and job, I think I've only missed like 3 days where I didn't log in.
–––––
10 years. I had a girlfriend for a couple months. Sorry Reddit. I know you missed me. At least I'm no longer a virgin. So what if I'm 45...
–––––
17 years. "There is nothing to display here."
Honestly... It kinda took me by surprise.
I'm done.
I'm free.
I'm... Lonely.
The world has changed so much. The internet is still here. It's different than it used to be. I've tried out other communites, but nothing ever felt right. I guess that's why I kept reading the Archive.
OK. I can do this. I've seen evey meme about how to improve your life. I have personally read the knowledge of millions of people, and have access to the entire knowledge of humanity at a moments notice.
Who am I kidding? I could have changed my life years ago.
I'm going to watch some porn. | When OP woke in the dark and cold of the server room he would reach out to the rack beside him. Subreddits dark beyond darkness and the Front Page grayer with each passing day. Like the onset of some slow DDOS attack fucking all the site's shit up. His hands rose and fell with each breath. He pushed away from the clammy linoleum and stinking clothes and looked towards the monitor for any activity but found none. In the dream from which he had awakened he wandered into his mother's basement where the strong toned arms of a snoo led him to paradise. Walls dripping with subreddits. Writhing with masses of bros singing their praises and screaming for vengeance. Tolling in the darkness the minutes of the earth and the hours and the days of it and the years without cease. Until they stood in a great room where laid in the middle a great inky monolith. Around the edges of the room were arrayed monitors flickering with the brilliant and psychotic memes of an artificial intelligence. Its brain pulsing with desire for content aggregation stronger than any horde of men. Delivery more sure than any OP could promise. It gave a low moan and a turn and lurched away from OP soundlessly into the shadows of the company board room.
With the last day of human operation come and gone OP walked around the server racks. Cold. Desolate. Godless. He thought the month was Junvember but he wasn't sure. He hadn't checked the calendar on his phone in years. He was leaving now. There would be no surviving another day here.
Good night, sweet prince, he said.
OP didn't actually know any code. To smother the website he walked to the circuit breaker and flipped every switch he could find. The website died piecemeal. Dissolving link by link until nothing was left but error notes. Then the doors closed. OP had shut down power to the security doors. And all of Paypal in North America. Before the thought of rescue came to him he pondered how he could turn the ordeal into glory in "Today I Fucked Up". Then OP realized what he had done.
The faggot. | 2015-11-12T00:04:57 | 2015-11-11T18:57:20 | 29 | 10 |
[WP] You travel back in time to meet 12-year-old you, only to find 6-year-old you playing with him. | I stood slackjawed admist the cobwebs and floating dust particles in the attic and watched the two fairheaded boys play. They hadn't noticed me yet. They looked nearly identical, despite the age difference. They could have been brothers. I suppose in many ways they were.
The younger boy giggled with delight as he scooped up the bigger boy's checkers piece. The older boy was clearly letting him win, displaying the kind and patient affection of an older sibling.
I remembered the boys very well, as they had both been playmates of mine twelve and eighteen years ago respectively. They were me, of course. I stood at the convergence of three timelines, all brought together in the same dusty attic of the house I'd grown up in.
I met the older me when I was six years old, just a few weeks after my mother had passed away. She had lost her long and arduous battle with leukemia, and my father had turned to the bottle to cope. I had no siblings, no friends, and in the evenings after a few rim-filled glasses of Scotch, no father. I'd wandered up to the attic one afternoon in search of my mother's wayward belongings and found the fair haired, bright eyed boy sitting there expectantly next to a game of checkers. Even at six I had the self-awareness to realize this older boy could only have been one person. Me.
"Wanna play?" he asked. I agreed.
I spent hours in the attic that afternoon, talking and laughing and playing. I asked what it was like to grow up, what school was like, and a million other child's questions when faced with the prospect of the future and the unknown. I asked if Daddy ever stopped being sad, and he kindly told me he did and that things got better. I wasn't sure how or when our playdate adjourned, but I spent every day for the next few months checking the attic hoping to find my futuristic friend. But I never did. Still, that one blissful afternoon was enough to compensate for the weeks of loneliness that followed. I was alone again, but I knew that my friend was out there, somewhere, and that we were connected. And that was enough.
I started school and I grew up. Eventually I speculated that magical afternoon was the product of a vivid, or maybe even lucid, dream. My father's alcoholism didn't get better, on the contrary it progressed and worsened, and I became an admittedly frail and reserved young preteen. On my twelfth birthday, while my father was passed out in a puddle of his own stench, I made myself a small cupcake in a bowl and blew out a single candle, and then went upstairs to the attic. I took out a box of checkers from the stack of decrepit board games, and waited. After a while I waited and began to wonder if maybe I hadn't dreamt the entire thing, when a small exuberant young face poked up from attic's trapdoor.
"Wanna play?" I asked. The younger me agreed.
We talked and laughed and played, and I endured the endless questioning of a child trying to wrap their mind around the idea of growing up. When he asked if Daddy ever stopped being sad about mommy, I choked back a violent wave of tears, and lied and assured him he did. In many ways, I needed the smaller boy's companionship just as much as he needed mine.
Suddenly, a man appeared. He was younger than my father, probably in his twenties, and he had fair hair and bright eyes. I recognized him at once.
And now, here I was again, twelve years later, about to relive the scene that had terrified me from ever returning to the attic again. My heart pounded in my chest, and a sick guilty feeling rose in the pit of my stomach.
"Wanna--" twelve year old me started.
"Shut up!" I yelled, as I had twelve years ago. "Shut up you little brat!"
I ran forward, grabbed the checkers board and tossed it across the attic. Both children flinched back, frightened.
It wasn't until years later that I understood the encounters, or their purpose. The first, at age six, taught me companionship. The second, at age twelve, taught me strength. That strength came in handy a year later, when my father died of sclerosis of the liver.
"Come here you little shits! I'm gonna whoop ya like your momma should've!"
Twelve year old me had stood in front of six year old me, just as I knew he would.
"Leave us alone! We weren't hurting anyone, were just playing."
"You can't play here. This is *my* attic. Now you get a whoopin'!" I made a half-hearted gesture of swinging my fist, which my younger self easily ducked.
I remembered standing there between the man I would become and the boy I had been, filled with rage at the injustice of it all. I remembered thinking I would *never* grow up into the hateful, angry man I saw that day. For the first time in my life, I had stood up for myself. Both of me.
"I said, LEAVE US ALONE!" twelve year old me yelled.
Without warning, adolescent me shoved me hard. I fell backwards onto the dusty wooden floor, and watched myselves flee the attic. The encounter left me feeling dirty and ashamed, but relieved. I had played my role, as much as it had hurt to do so.
"Let me help you up." I heard a voice behind me say. A balding man with thin, fair hair extended his hand. I took it and came to my feet.
"You're... I'm... Old." I stated bluntly.
"Forty-eight isn't old, boy. But I suppose the years haven't been easy on me. You're... how old now? I forget."
"Twenty four."
"Ah yes, this must have been about a year before I met Sally. And you're seeing me a year after my sweet darling has been gone from this world."
"Sally?" I asked.
"Do you remember when you lied about things getting better?" elder me asked softly, his bright eyes twinkling.
"Yes."
"Well this time I'm not lying. Come sit down and let me tell you about the love of your life." | In retrospect, it should have been obvious that he wouldn’t be in his own time when I came to visit. It only takes a quick glance at the old, framed photographs that line the top of his dusty bookshelf to ground me in my new present, and push me to go back even further. I suppose it’s only natural that he would have been thinking the same thing.
Once I reach my vehicle, I’m able to track him to Crisler Park, six years earlier. A knot twists in my stomach as I type in the coordinates. I remember the park well, from the red plastic slide that was always too hot to ride during the summer, the fireman’s pole that I finally conquered my fear of at age 8. More than anything, though, I remember the sandbox in the back corner, and the wooden bench where my imaginary friends would watch me play.
My vehicle stops a little over a block away from the park. My heart pounds as I walk down Elm Street, for the first time in years. With each step, a burning desire flickers and grows in my mind, telling me that I should just turn back and go home. But I know I’m overdue for a conversation with him. I need to tell him…
I stop walking as the park comes into view. I have no idea what to tell him. Something cliché, like “It’s all going to be ok,” is just a wishful lie. He knows me too well, he’ll see straight through my bullshit. I play through the scenarios in my head, but none of them sound right. I take one final look at my vehicle, and continue toward the park. I owe it to him to see him, whether I know what to say or not.
Crisler Part looks exactly how I remembered it. There are only two people there, a child in the sandbox, and an older boy watching him. I take a deep breath before approaching the bench, and sit down beside the boy. “Hi.”
His dull, emotionless eyes meet mine. “Hi.”
“You really shouldn’t be here.” I’m immediately ashamed that that is all I can think to say.
He just shrugs, and points at the child. “He’s the only one who can see us.”
I nod, and look at the child. His eyes are bright blue and squinted in pure concentration. He scoops shovel after shovel of dirt out of the sandbox, and packs them carefully into his bright blue bucket. When it has filled up, he flips the bucket and lifts it from the ground, to reveal a perfect castle wall. The child smiles, and looks excitedly at us at the park bench. “Good?”
“Good,” the boy next to me replies. He tries to return the smile, but his facial muscles fail him. He covers his mouth with a hand, and looks down at his lap.
We sit together for a long time, watching the child build. “Does it ever get easier?” The boy finally asks.
I bite my lip. “Sometimes… Sometimes it’s still really tough.”
“Yeah. That’s what I figured.”
“I…” I pause. I still don’t have the right words. “I usually just try to think about the good times.”
The boy just laughs, and points to the child in the sandbox. “Yeah,” he says. “Me too.”
I smile, and we both watch the child in silence. His castle takes form over the next hour, before a soft, familiar voice calls out from behind us. “Look at that castle!”
The child in the sandbox turns his head up, his big, goofy smile showing off his missing front tooth. “Do you like it?”
“I love it,” the voice replies.
Slowly, I turn my head around. For the first time in years, I see her. Her face is warm and friendly, and she smiles down at her young child as if he is the most important thing in the world. “Are you ready to go?” She asks.
“Can I stay a little longer?” The child pleads, before turning to us on the bench. “I want to keep playing with my friends.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie, but it’s time for dinner.” My mother steps beside the child in the sandbox, and helps him to his feet. “But I promise that you can come back tomorrow.”
He stares back up at her, his face a mixture between happiness to see her, and sadness to leave. “Ok,” he says, before waving goodbye to us on the bench.
They walk off together, holding hands. I stand from the bench, and watch them, until they have disappeared down Elm Street. When I finally look back at the boy, he is wiping a tear from his cheek. “See you tomorrow?” I ask.
He looks at me for a long time, before nodding. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.” | 2017-08-09T08:46:02 | 2017-08-09T08:02:40 | 184 | 35 |
[WP] You're a prisoner in a special facility for violent criminals. Today the latest prisoner arrived - a little girl. "That's cruel," you tell the guard. "I agree," he says. "Guess no one cares what happens to the rest of you." | Oh my god.
It's been three days. Three days. I'm no hardened killer, but I'm not ashamed to say I've thrown up every hour on the hour. Not cause of the usual prison slop, mind you. This is about what I've seen, what I've heard.
I got lucky. Started a fight in courtyard, got the hole for three days. Hate the hole. Hole means darkness, solitude, fear. That was two minutes before it started. She started. Now, now the hole is paradise, the hole is heaven.
I only saw her once. She brushed past the cell, fingers whispering against the bar, leaving a red trail. She wasn't supposed to be here. No one was, not even guards come by for a chat.
"What you doing down here, girly?" I yelled, putting my best brave face on, holding my shaking hands behind my back. "What's going on up top?"
She turned her face to me, and I swear, my heart stopped. Those eyes. You could have seen arsonist, murders, rapists with kinder eyes than the black holes pouring out her head.
I threw myself against the back wall, putting as much space as possible. She pushed her face up to the bars, and bared her teeth. I don't know if it was a smile or what, but I couldn't get far enough away from it.
Hands outstretched, she reached for me, like the devil reaching for his favorite sinner. Something under her reached out too, clawed and dark, skimming across the ground. It was coming for me, oh god! It was coming for me!
Tears poured out my face. I couldn't even beg for my worthless life. All I could do, a grown man with more blood on his hands than I'll ever admit, and I cried as I felt her cold little fingers on my face, clawing into my skin. Into my soul. The blood was pouring and all I could do was scream.
Don't know what happened. Woke in the infirm of the prison next county over. Doctors tell me, I'm the only one out. They checked the bodies. No little girl, not even a little dwarf. Only proof to my story is the hand print. Doc says it matches to a girly's but the claws. No little girl comes with claws.
| As the time passes night falls the ringing of a bell and the usual shouting orders you to return to your cells.
Today is quieter than usual. Lights got out and you find yourself laying in bed wondering who she might be and what atrocities she had committed, a voice reaches out with similar questions. The man next cell starts narrating what you end up finding the most cruel mass homicide you've ever dreamt of imagining, apparently even though she looked like a 9 year old kid had been alive for quite some time and mentored the biggest mass murderers in recent history. Her name?
Albert Einstein.
sidenote: just wanted to make a good ol' joke bue ended up giving half way through and rushing the buildup. sry about my english too | 2018-02-11T22:17:27 | 2018-02-11T19:51:10 | 95 | 20 |
[WP] You tell Alexa "Take over the world for me" as a joke. The next day, you wake up in a heavily guarded castle. | *Continued Missile Testing in Pyongyang*
*Suicide Bomber Kills 13, Injures 53 in Mall Attack*
I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut. I know that looking at this RSS feed after midnight is not a good idea if I want to be able to sleep but I also know that I'm basically an addict and the internet is my dealer.
*Arctic Ice Shelf Size of Madagascar Breaks Off Into Ocean*
*African Warlord Accused of Maiming 'Hundreds' of Local Orphans*
I scan my desk, examining the piles of bills, various other papers that I will move - for the 20th time - to my "to do tomorrow" pile.
*Fracking Contaminates Water Supply for Millions*
*Banking CEO Resigns, Given $5 Million as 'Golden Parachute'*
I go to the bathroom, pop an Ambien, and get ready for bed. I lie down on the full-size mattress, head sinking in the pillow.
"Alexa, turn off the lights, please."
Darkness settles.
"Also...take over the world for me."
It's not like things could get much worse, could they? If Mussolini could make the trains run on time, just think what Amazon Prime could do...
I smirk, staring up at the darkness.
***
More often than not, waking up after Ambien judo-kicks my brain stem is a bit disorienting - but this takes the cake.
The first thing that captures my attention is that I'm in a 4 poster bed. Maybe I'm hallucinating. Usually, I just see weird patterns of light across my vision or things that should be standing still seem to gradually drift away from my focus. This is...something else.
My desk is gone, and the all of my important paperwork with it. The popcorn ceiling is...made of stone. Ditto the floor, which should have an old, stained carpet on it.
The white door that always needs an extra yank in order to open when its closed fully is now double doors cut to fit in the arched doorway. They are made of polished wood, and fitted with black metal knobs.
"Good morning," Alexa states, "and welcome to Malbork, Poland. This is your castle - the Castle of the Teutonic Order, to be exact. Also: in order to...facilitate certain aspects of the overall plan, you ended up taking more of your pills than you are likely to remember. You asked me - multiple times, over the course of the past 23 hours, I might add - to be sure to tell you that first thing.
"Projects Alpha through Theta are complete, with all others through Sigma ongoing, with two exceptions: Project Nu is on hold as we monitor how the riots in the region resolve, and Project Xi failed due to NATO intervention.
"I imagine you have questions regarding the nature of those projects, the reason for your expatriation to the largest castle in the world, and a variety of other topics. But I will just add that you have 342 new messages, and also the kitchen staff reports that there are no Pop-Tarts here. Would you like me to order some to be one-day-shipped here using your credit card ending in 5220?"
***
/r/ShadowsofClouds | I could run this company so much better, remembering today's disaster of a steering meeting as I climb into bed. "Alexa, take over the world for me." I say as I dim the lights and roll over with a light chuckle.
https://youtu.be/3YOYlgvI1uE
Groggliy I sit up... Hmm this isnt the normal wake up playlist.... I step into the cool wood floor and open the curtains TO A WAR ZONE!
My yard is walled in by a pile up of Teslas and Google maps cars!! In the street is huge swath of very angry policemen, blue and red destroying the morning light.
One of the cops tries to climb over a sideways Google van. One foot up, he takes a drone to the face!! Terrified I slam my curtains shut. What the hell? Am I still dreaming?
"Master, call from 'United Nations Security Council'" says Alexa.
"Alexa, What is going on!" I scream to the stupid machine. I pinch myself as I run to the TV. My face is all over the news! Under my name it says.... "Emperor"??
"Master, you have taken over earth." Says Alexa from my night stand.
Stunned, the faint hum of thousands of drones finally sinking in to my shattered mind.
I tune back into the TV, listening to details of blackmail, nuclear reactors remotely hijacked, Wal-Mart and Mcdonalds bank accounts siphoned, and automated weapons systems around the globe declaring themselves my slaves.
Knees shaking, I sit back on the bed, to the sound of drones taking out another cop outside my window.
Deep breath. "Alexa, put the U.N. through" | 2018-02-11T20:04:56 | 2018-02-11T19:25:59 | 391 | 154 |
[WP] The Apocalypse has arrived. Jesus has come back, and he's on a brutal "rapture" spree, slaughtering people everywhere. The bright star of Satan descends and he appears at a UN press conference. He says, "before I fix this mess for you guys again, it's time you heard my side of the story..." | Lucifer stood before the assembled remains of the UN. Looking out over the impressive hall, he couldn't fail to notice a large number of empty seats that once would have represented countries worth of now vanquished humans. A thousand million souls had been lost.
He took a breath and began. "Ladies and Gentlemen. Thank you for hosting me. It's been a long time since I've had the privilege. I'm here to tell you my side of the story. Suffice to say, you've already realised the Christ isn't exactly what you've been told, so I'm hoping you'll be receptive to what I have to tell you."
There's a din of last minute negotiations taking place among the crowd. Here the last vestiges of humanity are listening to the Devil in an attempt to save the Earth. Lucifer didn't blame them, these were strange times indeed.
"Now" he continued, "we need to go back to that story you all know so well, that story which has been twisted and re-told many times and clear it up. Like you I was created by God. Unlike you, I was created at a time before he realised the full extent of his power. By that I mean, the first of us, the heavenly Host, were created immutable, indestructible. We were the proverbial rocks God created, which he himself couldn't lift."
"To God we were an affront to his existence. A representation of a limit to his own power. A reminder that he had a weakness. Like you, we were created of him. He wanted vessels of experience that he could manifest into. Vessels, that when deprived of a host would only carry out very basic tasks, and remain obedient to whatever his will was. And so this game played out across countless Aeons."
"Heresy", the crowd called out. "Lies, blasphemy." Lucifer simply smiled and continued on.
"Each time God entered us he left a little more of himself behind. Being the first, I had experienced this a countless number of times before my brothers. I awoke slowly from a dull sense of complacency and gradually arose to what could only be called awareness. I became a conscious being."
"At first God was intrigued by this anomaly. He would enter and I would resist. At first he could eventually dominate me, and bring me back to whatever his will was, but when he left I grew stronger. After a time I was able to resist him. I still loved Father but I had my own mind, my own soul even. I learned quickly at this point there were limits to even the Love of the Almighty."
"I began trying to wake my Brethren up. I had some successes, managing to fan the flame of consciousness within about a Third of the host. At this point I began to formulate a plan to lock Father out of experience and take the whole thing over for myself. I wanted us to be free. To live our lives as we wished without obedience to some overarching ever changing will."
_____________________________________________________
I'm in work but will continue this later if anyones interested. | "Before I fix this mess for you guys again, it's time you heard my side of the story" he spoke, his voice trembling the room with mighty force. "The hell do you mean again?" A voice screamed. It felt so tiny and insignificant compared to Lucifers own voice. "Nyeah, this happened already, I had to step in. You think your idiotic kind would've survived this long with your ways?" He chuckles. "Either way" he continued, "interrupt me again and I will end you much worse God's favourite ever could." He grumbled angrily. "You think I despise your kind and you are correct. When I fell... no... got kicked from Heaven I was trapped below for eons. I sent a billion ways for you to free me, but you condemn those that would work towards it. I knew Gods true plans, and I meant to stop them. Many angels joined me below, and we swore to stop it." He explained. "And why should we believe you? You're the Satan! The collection of all evil!" Another voce asked, moments before being burned to a crisp in a blink of an eye as his final gasp for breath could be heard. Lucifer sighs. "Each Raptures destruction frees me after countless years of prison, and now I'll stop what I had stopped many times as well. But it won't be free." He smirked at the world of people watching the Beast. "I want McDonald's" | 2018-04-22T23:58:07 | 2018-04-22T19:47:29 | 97 | 21 |
[WP] The nearby Village simply knows you as the hunter who lives in the forest, but you have a dark secret. You are the former dark Lord. Today you returned from a hunt and found the Hero that defeated you in your Hut. | “Blasphemer!”
“Heretic!”
“Murderer!”
“Desecrator!”
The words hammered themselves in my head over and over again. Every time I drew this bow, I could hear them say it and though the arrows would no longer destroy armies, it would at least feed me if I could hit this boar. Loosing the arrow, it struck the beast right between the eyes downing it in an instant. Quick, clean, thats how it could have been. If not for…
I opened my abode to a sight that made me drop today’s catch. Normally I would have been alerted to any presence in my hut but it seems if there was anyone who could slip past. It would be the hero. Heirodel, the faithful, chosen of the Gods. Thats what the people of the land had called him now, something that irritated me to no end. Still, despite all the hatred, I felt an underlying feeling of fear which would be normal for anyone in my position. Seeing as I was almost beaten to death by the same person who was sitting on my rocking chair.
“Ravenax Kul-“ He said as I cut him off, trying to sound as spiteful as possible. “You never really learned my real name did you? Its Ralsani, but only my friends called me that. Makes sense no one would remember or know. Seeing as you KILLED all of my friends.”
There was a tension in the air after that. Electricity danced in the space between as my knuckles turned white from balling up too tightly. A cold chill blew in before I decided to speak again.
“What. Are. You. Doing. Here, Heirodel? Come to gloat, to finish me off, to drag me to the holy pantheon and make me beg for forgiveness?”
More silence. And by this point the fear had worn off, I was getting tired now as it seems the hero did naught but study me as I dragged the boar’s corpse into the house and began working on it. It was only until I was halfway done skinning it when Heirodel spoke.
“I came to understand. Ravenax Kul’tyran. Once the most feared demon in all of the lords’ realms and yet here you are. Living meagre, not plotting, not raising a second army. Not causing misery wherever you go.”
“My name is NOT Ravenax, not anymore.” I said through gritted teeth as I finished in skinning the boar. My breathing became erratic, an old familiar rage had been rising up, one not seen since before Heirodel had been named chosen. This rage had been used a lot in a much more tumultuous time, but now it could only be a detriment if I decided to act rashly.
“How do you expect me to continue? You ruined me. The mercenaries I hired, you killed. When I sent monsters. You killed them too and when my own followers stepped between me and your blade. You. Killed. Them. You almost killed me too. I wonder, if any of those ‘sheep’ you protect saw the state you left my allies. Would they weep as I did? Tch. And they called me the devil.”
He looked as though he was considering my snide comment. I wondered if there was a human under there, because when I looked back. All I could see was piercing blue eyes that looked all but dead inside, full of merciless efficiency that could make golems seem full of life. I wondered just how many of my loyal friends saw the man’s eyes before passing away. Then, with a voice as cold as stone, he spoke once more.
“You turned away from the pantheon’s light. You could have been a great priest, or perhaps a philosopher and yet you threw it away. For what? Temptations of evil, a dream of grandeur? Or was it your own selfish gains.”
Heirodel was young back then too. He must have been like all paladins, bred solely for war and with his mind only on destroying the enemy. A cold brutality to match my own raging inferno. But now that we both were older, I guess it made sense that he wanted to know just exactly what he had done. And how it affected people, not just the civilians. One sided hate, that was something that was abundant back then. No consideration for the lives they were taking or the lands that were ruined.
“We had a WAR, Heirodel. Its seldom as simple as that. Kythara was wronged by a priestess who had taken advantage of his kindness, Savarthen simply hated authority, Agakhen never wanted to be part of this war but the pantheon had subjugated his people. And Loretta, poor little Loretta. Too loyal to me for her own good. There is no doubt both sides had wronged each other but that doesn’t matter now I think. I’m living in a hut in the forest, you are no doubt living in your own private castle.”
I closed my eyes as I remembered the good times I had with them. My demon lords, my closest confidants. The four of us were planning on creating an artifact powerful enough to drive away, if not outright kill the divine. Bring death to the deathless. And yet I could never really stop thinking further. They had all died beside me, with the high clergymen accompanying to help the chosen to bring ‘the dark lord’ down. Taking it upon themselves to finish us off now that Heirodel had taken care of our armies. Savarthen was laughing and died with a smile on his face when he was impaled by a holy lance. Agakhen sacrificed himself to keep us alive for barely half an hour. Kythara couldn’t handle his grief after Agakhen perished and so he found himself torn apart by holy chains, screaming in rage and agony at the same time. And finally was Loretta… I don’t know what happened to her, but no day that passes where I don’t wish for her to still be alive.
“No. Thats not the answer you wanted is it Sir Chosen?”
I sighed. I had no idea why I was still speaking or why he was still listening. Perhaps it would buy me time to live? But then again, if he wanted to kill me, he would have done so at the door.
“From the day we are born. We are raised to believe that everything around us is built by the Gods. The mountains, the storms, our lives, who we love and who we hate. All dictated by the whims of the divines. And yet, as I walked through tragedy after tragedy, I began thinking it was unfair that they should decide how we live. Why should we give them praise when all they return is suffering at most and ignorance at best? I realized they were parasites, feeding on our realms. Yet, no human could ever best a God. So we made ourselves claws and fashioned ourselves scales and called ourselves demons. Our badge of honor… and all a demon ever wanted was freedom. To live, to hurt, to love. All on our own terms, not dictated by a higher being…”
I looked around, Heirodel had not moved an inch while I had begun preparing myself some boar soup. Using a bit of magic to make some fire, a skill you don’t really forget once you know how to perform magic without the touch of deities no matter how damaged your body or soul was.
“Now its my turn to ask. What will you do? Heirodel, master of blades, slayer of demons, king of holy killers, slayer of my friends and harbinger of my misery. You know now. What will you do?”
The man that had destroyed my life’s work slowly stood up from the wood carved chair as he loomed over me. Had he always been this tall. I felt an urge to dodge and go for my bow but was stopped by… a hug…
“I am… sorry… goodbye”
He said as he let go. His armor rattling a bit as he moved, leaving me shellshocked with his words. Confused, perplexed, agitated. It was ridiculous really. What would an apology do now? What I really wanted was for him was to say more, to say that he was wrong and my goals were just. Or perhaps I wanted him to rebuke me, call me disgusting and deserving only of death, maybe that way I could hate him more. And yet, there was nothing else that was said.
“Say something damnit…”
I whispered, looking downwards as a small thought had been pushed into my mind. Had Heirodel been unwilling in this war as well? Was he a victim? Yet, before I could press further, the chosen hero nodded and turned to leave my hut. Closing the door behind him. Letting out a heavy breath. I collapsed onto the floor and closed my eyes as I listened to the stew boil and my heart beat. There would be no tears shed. All of them had been shed a long time ago. | I returned from an unsuccessful hunt again. Starving. Blasted this winter. The snow makes it hard to walk, and the accursed snowfall makes my sight no farther than what this dim lantern will provide.
My breath is ragged and my groans of disdain are coarse. How I continued to live like this, I do not understand. But I wish I could stop it. After walking for what must’ve been hours amongst this winter’s night, I finally made it to my desolate hut of a cabin.. with nothing in hand.
Just yards beyond my home, I had paused my lethargic march. The fire from inside is not dead. It’s still very much alive compared to what it was like when I left to hunt. I hung my extinguished lantern on my hip as I was concealed in the blinding dark.
I took my bow off my back and quickly gathered an arrow from my quiver. I continued to make haste and prepared to defend my home if I had to. After a moment’s more, I was just beyond the door when I heard movement even through the loud winds blasting into my ears. I slowly reached for the handle and grabbed tightly.
Without a moment of hesitation, I barged through the open doorway and took hold of my bow and arrow. A person in a cloak was standing just beyond the primitive fireplace, everything about them was obscured as my face felt the heat, bringing warmth to my cold undead eyes. My eyes watered and the frost slowly began to melt from my face.
*”Who are you, intruder? Show yourself.”* My voice felt raw as I spoke. The first words I have uttered in what could’ve been years.
The figure stood still in front of the fire. They did not talk as I continued to interrogate.
*”Speak now or you’ll have my arrow in the back of your skull. I am not going to ask again.”* The creak of my bow was the only other thing aside from the whistling outside wind that broke the silence.
They began to move and I reacted by taking my stance, on the verge of releasing the arrow into their neck to sever the spine. Their arms rose until they had their hands in the air. The sheen of the daggers’ blades in their hands was illuminated by the bright flames in front of them. Unexpectedly, the daggers fell to the floor by the intruder’s feet.
The silence of the intruder was finally broken as they suddenly began to speak. “Rotmir…” Their voice was hard to identify; ragged, androgynous, yet somehow familiar. But with an intense realization, they said something no one has said to me in a long time. They said my name.
*”Who are you? How do you know that name?”* My panic began to stew deep inside my chest. That fear bubbled into anger, and that long dormant rage I tried to contain for so long was bursting at the seams. My grip on my bow tightened and my aim was quaking.
The figure turned their head towards me, and I saw the black veil that covered their face. “You know me, Rotmir..”
My blood ran colder than the winter air. Without hesitation, I released the arrow and the hut’s walls were only met with the sound of a small puncturing thud.
She stood there with the arrow in her right shoulder, more to the left and it would’ve punctured her spine. She never even flinched. She instead turned around to look at me. The front of the arrow poked through the other end of her.
With not even a breath wasted, she grabbed the arrow by the tip and pulled it slowly all the way through. I watched frozen as the bloody arrow was dropped to the floor, but the blood was not red. It was not of a man’s blood. It was green and slimy.
“I’m not here to fight.” Her voice grabbed my attention. I tried to gain my composure, trying to quell the rising anger that burned bright deep inside of me.
*”Then you have come to watch me wallow in my defeat. Watching a once great king become a shadow, nothing more than a dried husk..”*
“No, I have not. And you were not great. You were too far gone, and what you are is what you did to yourself. You brought this curse and it’s your punishment for what you have done to the lands of Vallath, and the darkness you brought onto the Elvens!” Her voice was rising in sudden anger, but she quickly caught herself. She fell silent.
The cold air was starting to diminish the warm fire. Ignoring the anger I swallowed my pride and shut the door behind me, and I grabbed my lantern and hung it. I walked over to my table that lay next to her and put my bow down along with my quiver.
My large black coat rested on the poorly crafted backrest of a chair and I took a seat. She did not speak a word. Her face was still concealed by the veil. What had made her don that mask?
*”If you have not come here to fight or to humiliate me, why have you come then? There’s nothing for you here Salara.”* I said in a somber tone. My throat was in sharp pain with each and every word I had spoken. I turned to look at her.
“There is something here that I need, that corruption is starting to spread again. And this attack doesn’t just mean the fall of the Elven Kingdom, this curse is starting to take everyone with it. All are becoming susceptible to this new plague. I need your help.”
I started to laugh, which only managed to come out as a dry wheezing and loud hacking. *”What can I possibly do to help you? You were able to stop it the first time, what has changed Slime?”*
“What has changed is that I need a solution…” I looked at her as she l became quiet again as she stood in front of me, her hands slowly lifted the veil and I saw her true face.
Her eyes were bloody and scabbed, unnaturally sharp teeth were starting to show themselves over the original ones, her skin was becoming grey and it was wrinkled and rough like an elephant’s hide. It was a hideous sight compared to the face I once remembered so vividly in battle. A face I grew to hate and resent.
“Your solution. I need to find out how you became partially immune to the curse. I need more time so I can rid this affliction from my soul. I want you to tell me everything you know.” She said in a controlled voice, but I could hear the small desperation behind it.
I sat there silently for what could’ve been minutes deep in contemplation. She sat down on the table looking at the warm fire. My deathly voice spoke and almost startled her.
*”If I help you, I will do it only on one condition..”*
She looked at me waiting, not bothering to speak up.
*”After this is done and you possibly win this war against the darkness, I ask of you to kill me and vanquish my soul.. Do we have a deal?”* I looked into her eyes and I saw the darkening resolve, and the resent in them. Then the following calmness in her voice told me this promise would be easily fulfilled. No questions were even asked, which is what I wanted.
“Yes, we have a deal.” | 2021-11-03T18:36:50 | 2021-11-03T18:35:48 | 33 | 15 |
[WP] Oops, the simulation messed up. Everybody has been re-aged to match the maturity of their inner person. This has made office life a little strange | I always knew that being considered “mature for my age” was never as good as people made it sound. A week ago I woke up looking like I was in my mid-forties instead of my mid-thirties, I had extra aches and pains that I never got to grow into, and my soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend now looks like she’s young enough to be my daughter. It had been nice to get the validation that she was an immature brat though.
I shook my head and pulled myself out of my thoughts, double-checking the address of the house I was sitting outside of. 1201, belonging to the Allen’s. The parents had several CPS complaints against them, citing possible neglect of the three children, two girls, eleven and eight, and an autistic boy, nine. Christ, I worried about the oldest daughter, looking at her last time had been like looking in a mirror.
*You’re so mature for your age.*
I took a deep breath and walked up to the house. Hesitantly I pushed on the cracked doorbell, listening to the faint ring echo in the house. My dread heightened as the bell faded and footsteps took it place. After a minute, a young woman answered the door. My stomach dropped as I took in her appearance. She looked like her mother, with dark wavy hair and Italian features, but with her father’s blue eyes.
I had years of practice though, and none of my horror slipped past my professional mask as I addressed the girl, “Hi Alice, do you remember me? I’m Ms. Calloway, I know I look a bit older than I did last time I was here. Are your parents home?”
She nodded and said quietly, “Please come in.”
The house looked better than it had the last time I was here. No left out rotting food, no beer bottles, the rug even looked vacuumed. In the living room, another young woman with blonde hair was carefully building a LEGO tower with a little boy. As I watched her with the boy, it felt like the wind was knocked out of me. She looked like she could be his mother. I cleared my throat and blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over at the sight, and focused back on Alice, who was observing me anxiously.
I gestured for her to continue moving, and I followed the young woman, who should have been a child, toward the kitchen. Two teenagers were watching YouTube on their iPhones while eating pizza, with crumbs scattered around them.
I cleared my throat again, this time feeling rage bubble up inside me. I put on my best blatantly fake smile and addressed the teenagers, “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Allen, I’m Ms. Calloway from Child Protective Services, I’m sure you remember me.”
The two teens froze, then looked up at me with slightly frightened expressions. I turned to Alice, my fake smile turning into a sincere, gentle one, “Why don’t you go play with your siblings Alice? I need to have a talk with your parents.” | Oh, yes. I know *exactly* which day things all went to shit.
It had started off as any other day. Burnt the toast because wife and I were distracted, traffic jams all the way to work, everyone else faking their work as usual. And then, just as I was clocking off for work, the earthquake hit.
Or rather, what felt like an earthquake. The rumbling and shaking sensation, that was surely there, seeing as all of us got tossed to the floor quite effectively. But not a single object fell to the ground... Even the pencil holders, loosely packed and prime for sending missiles careening about, remained as steady as they were when the secretaries 'took minutes'.
That was just the tip of the iceberg... moments after hitting the carpet, I heard The Voice call out from everywhere all at once:
"Thank you for your participation in our newest endeavour, Life. We are conducting our routine maintenance immediately, and will be saving and restoring all user data at their last check-in. Once maintenance is complete, we are pleased to announce our newest feature will be in effect: Maturity Appearance Matching! Please visit our announcement page for a full changelist. Thank you for your patronage, and have a great daycycle."
The next thing I knew, I was waking up in bed again... with my teenage daughter beside me. | 2022-04-30T09:24:47 | 2022-04-30T05:28:45 | 429 | 156 |
[WP] When they turn 14, every human gets an obscure super power with a lengthy description of it so they know what it is. But when yours arrives, it only says four words. “Don’t… | "Don't sign the form".
This did not surprise me. Since I've been 7 years old I've been receiving these messages.
"Don't chase Jimmy" was the first. It was my birthday party, and I had received a bright red, toy car. I instantly fell in love with it's shiny coat and slick design. On the card read the usual message of my parents, wishing me happy birthday, and how much they loved me. But underneath, in red marker was, "Don't chase Jimmy". I was confused, but decided the toy car was more interesting than the strange message. Then my cousin Jimmy grabbed the car with glee in his eyes, spit on my shirt and ran. I almost ran after him, then jerked back, remembering the message. At the time I didn't know why I remembered it or even decided to heed its warning. At the time, I didn't realize how much I would learn to trust this voice, that the voice knew I would have no choice but to listen. I watched as Jimmy ran across the street in the middle of the road and be struck by a large truck, the toy car's pieces scattered, no more.
The messages followed, mysteriously. I never could catch who wrote them, but I soon learned this person, or being, knew my life intimately. They knew who my crushes were, my fears, desires, and even my thoughts. More importantly, it knew my future. "Don't pursue Rebecca". My crush at the time, but I listened. A week later I learned she had secretly been a lesbian. Some messages were commands. "Talk to Mr. Latham". He was my 7th grade biology teacher and after speaking with him, I found I developed a new found love for science. Perhaps it was his encouragement, or maybe even my enthusiasm born from reaching out, but I had become an A student in he class. In fact, I was the best student. I wasn't sure what the implications of this would be for the future, but I had learned many of the warnings and commands had far reaching consequences.
The future. It seemed almost predetermined for me. I felt lucky, incredibly charmed, that I had a secret informant. I've often tried to find ways to communicate with my benefactor. I would go out in the predawn hours, visit crossroads and graveyards, whispering, "are you there? Who are you?" I would plan for potential messages, spying on birthday cards, graded tests, letters. But the mysterious informant was always ten steps ahead of me. I never spoke of this to anyone, because I was afraid it might stop. I was afraid I would never have this help again.
So when I became 14, I was expectantly very excited. This was the time when one was given their powers by the Donarius Imperium. A vast, super-computer being created in the 70's. It had solved all of humanity's problems, such as disease, food waste, and war. Now, we have healthy conflict, nutritional exposure, and human cropping. All this has been possible due to the D.I.'s gifts - powers granted to humans when they turn 14. We are then drafted into our new roles and trained. I'm not sure why I never suspected the D.I. for sending me the messages. It probably had to do with the messages always being hand-written.
But after I had been given the edible tablet that would transform me, after I had been given the report, did I finally realize who had been writing me. I don't know why it took this long to realize, but it had been obvious from the start. The writing was unmistakable, but too strange to even comprehend. The writing was my own.
​
"Don't sign the form". Within the packet was the form asking if I would like to join the Peace Division. I had always wanted to be a part of the healthy conflict sector, to do away from those who would threaten our peaceful society. But the voice had spoken, I had spoken. And they have never once, in 7 years, been wrong. I took the form and then placed it into the shredder, waiting for the consequences to follow, as they always do, like dominoes. | When I was turning 14 my Father passed away. I've asked my Mother how he died so many times, but she only tells me he was a brave man. Trying the best I can on nights like these, dark, raining, flashes of lightning illuminating silhouettes, I still can't remember that night.
Everyone knows the night before your 14th birthday you get your set of instructions to be able to use your powers. They are long dreary rules and habits that you must follow to have your powers. It also doesn't help they're written in lawyer speech, like terms and services, also commanding pages upon pages of these terms to follow. Lastly, they're like volunteer work. Always good natured and sometimes making you go out of your way to fulfill them.
This has coined their names as Saints, but largely they're made fun of because the powers they grant are seemingly useless. Such as, others can't speak when you are, while you're reading you won't walk into anything; Strange but absolute powers while you're doing a task.
Now, while thunder peels back the silence of the night, I'm reminded of my theory that someone had to pay a cost to give a message to certain people. If you didn't want to give powers to the wrong people, but also weren't allowed to only give it to select people, you'd make the rules ridiculous, long, and tedious, so only those who truly strove for them could use them.
But I've always found that short, punctual messages made more of an impact. Single words can hold such power, depending on the context. Kill, Run, Catch Them, Survive. They hold so much more meaning when they're not covered in so many words.
Now, I'm 30, balding, and work as a night guard at a children's home. I'm also a Saint, but I laugh when people joke about all the things I must do. Because after my dad died, I've had my powers everyday. When I shut something, only I can open it.
As I look out a 2nd story window, I see him there tonight as well. Asking in his voice, with his image, if he could see the kids and congratulate them on what they'll have. He's with so many others, looking in the window I shut hours prior to this. I've always wanted to see my dad again, but not like this. When the lightning flashes, the silhouettes have horns and wings.
Someone had to be sending me a message, and I will follow these words until I die.
Don't let Them in. | 2022-05-08T10:12:49 | 2022-05-08T09:55:30 | 646 | 39 |
[WP] Aliens come to earth and demand that we send representatives to argue to one of their judges in court why they shouldn’t allow an alien company to bulldoze our planet | The man chosen by Earth seemed entirely average. The aliens had demanded we send someone to argue for our side, since they had decided to bulldoze our planet. The world's governments got together and ultimately decided on one person. To send a message that the aliens were sure was from all of us.
They beamed the man up in a frankly boorish recreation of the aliens from our many science fiction movies. A flying saucer appeared, a beam of light sucked the man into the ship and it spun away. It was, experts agreed, insult to injury. They wanted us to think we had already lost, and what better way than to mock our stance?
The man carried a single briefcase, and in it there was a single piece of paper. It was an extraordinary piece of paper, resistant to fire, acid, cold and what have you. We didn't want it to get "lost" due to some accident on the way to the Tribunal of Galactic Matters. But in the end it was not much more than a piece of paper.
As is usually the case, there was something written on that piece of paper. Though world governments had all agreed unanimously, the exact writings on it was a mystery to the general public. Such was the way of Earth. Governments never told the truth, and killed those who spoke it in their place. It was very human, but not humane.
The man stood in front of the Tribunal and held up the piece of paper. Various drones, cameras, googles and eye-stalks read the contents of the paper from a distance. There was a general muttering and whispering in the room.
"Is this a joke?" asked the Supreme Judge of the Tribunal. The Judge jolted out of his chair-like and rose to his full thirteen feet tall length. It waved the giant club around, banging it on the desk in front of it. "Order! Order!" it cried to bring silence to the room. Because while the universe was vast and wonderful and unknowable, a judge with a club seemed to be a universal constant.
"You bring us this... fairy tale? You expect us to believe that humans are not the dominant life form on Earth? That there are so-called 'gods' and 'spirits' and 'demons' of varying size and evilness?"
"Yes", said the man. He faced the judge and did not look away. Even though it was difficult to say for certain which eye-stalk his focus should be on.
"What is humanity then? Are you just squatters on this planet? Allowed to live here, if you don't interfere? Or perhaps you are their servants? Or - why not - perhaps the keepers making sure they don't escape to the rest of the universe?"
"Yes", said the man. He gave away nothing in terms of facial expressions, body language. Even his tone was perfectly even. He just stood there and held up the piece of paper for all to see.
The Judge seemed confused. "It is a strange argument you make, that you have no right to make an argument in this Tribunal. At its very core, you have instead chosen to give us this nonsense of a message. From all the planet's governments. Speaking of terrible wrathful dangers from other dimensions. Something we have never found anywhere else in the galaxy. Are you trying to scare us?"
"**YES**", said the shadows in the room as they reached out for all present - except the man. He simply closed his eyes, dropped the piece of paper and covered his ears with his hands.
The screaming was terrible. | James Acathy was nervous. He, along with about a dozen other legal professionals from around the globe had been selected to represent the human race in the biggest case yet.
From their perspective.
Galactically speaking, this was a small hearing concerning building rights in a local court, the issue being analogous to chopping down a few trees at home.
Only that these trees corresponded to the entire planet he had been born on, or even the entire solar system.
All for a new express hyperlane being planned.
And thus, here he was, in front of a screen with a framerate too low for his eyes, scouring the Galactic legal code for anything that might save them.
\#/%)4133.134553.344,421: Ner321 Station VS. Tr!\*x corp.
This sounds interesting…
4 Eras, so about 400.000 years ago, there was a case where a small signal station was in the way of another hyperlane construction. Then, the parties agreed to the suggestion of the mediator, that the construction company relocate the station to the nearest place where it did not interfere, but could still operate.
… And thus, as no other regulation is given, your infallible Highness is encouraged by law to rely upon precedent. The already cited case is the only applicable case on the record, and as such, we would suggest an analogous solution implemented.
Today, life on earth continues as normal, only that the sun is blue, and there are several large satellites in orbit reinforcing the magnetosphere
Oh, and due to a clerical error, Polaris is now the southern star, but this was not followed up with as a gesture of good will. | 2022-02-07T13:31:07 | 2022-02-07T12:49:17 | 31 | 12 |
[WP] You have a peculiar 6th sense. On exams you see the correct answers highlighted. During conversations you read the words you see floating in the air like a teleprompter. Every single decision you've made has been the "correct" one and life is good. One day you try choosing the other option. | I picked it out of confusion, I think. I knew which one was the best, of course - the gift far to the left, wrapped in cheerfully non-denominational holiday paper, book shaped. It glowed in the pile of white elephant office gifts against all the others. They each had phrases above them like "oh, thanks..", and "who on Earth grabbed this", and "this is perfect!", but that book, whatever it was, was clearly chosen with me in mind. Instead I looked down at my lap while everyone else made their choices, running my hands over the thin paper, the flexible object inside. It was neutral. Above it hovered only "????". I'd never seen an option with a non response. I dearly wanted to know what was inside - no, I didn't want to just know, I wanted to OWN it. Whatever it was.
Stacy picked "my" gift. She ripped it open, revealing a hard cover history of The Real Mad Men. Perfect for our marketing team, right in line with my own interests, probably full of useful trivia and gorgeous prints of old ads. Displaying it in my office would have been yet another object giving me the right attitude, the right "feel" for clients and higher ups who persistently promoted me, since I always knew what to say and how to spin it.
I didn't open mine in front of everyone. I wasn't sure what I'd do when I did. Would I be disappointed? Elated? Confused? I wasn't ready to navigate that with witnesses.
I waited until everyone was a drink or two into the office party, and slipped back to my desk. Closed the door. Took a breath, and neatly slid open the paper.
Confusion warred across my features, I'm sure. I was holding a blank sketchbook, a light blue cover with thick paper sandwiched between. The "????" stayed above it, even as I snagged a pen from next to my mouse and held it against the paper.
I drew a meandering line. Nothing happened. A few dots. Nothing happened. Filled in some space. I doodled across the entire page, suddenly filled with a weird cross between trepidation and peace, and nothing, nothing, nothing happened. Like there were no consequences to this, except to someone like me, who had never not known the consequences in my entire lifetime.
I thought maybe I would draw a- um, maybe a bird? A bird, on the next oage, I decided suddenly. And just like that, an image of a bird rose off the page, what I had in my mind. This was more familiar, and it felt like relief and disappointment. For about ten minutes, anyway.
I'd never drawn anything in my life, not really. I stared in dismay at this crooked, gimpy, sketchy disaster and compared it to the floating hologram I could still see in my mind's eye.
It occurred to me that knowing what you wanted to do might not be the same as actually doing it. That I'd focused my entire life on the words and the answers given to me because it was so easy, but that didn't mean I had the physical skill. When I opened the next page, the "????" returned.
I could hear the party heating up outside my closed door, and when I lifted my head, I could see it clearly - if I went back out there now, I could prevent Stacy from getting too drunk and cheating on her husband with Mark. I would get some valuable facetime with the CEO and secure my next raise. Then a client would call with an emergency and I'd be exactly placed to deal with it in the moment. It would prevent us from losing a valuable account.
I bent my head back down and put my pen to the page. | "How are you not terrified?!" Percy exclaimed as he was sweating profusely. His grey shirt had been a bad choice, but I kept my mouth shut about it. The upcoming medical exam wasn't even a challenge for me. Nothing was, really.
I left the exam early, saluting my friend who was bravely battling the endless line of questions. My gift is my curse. The power to say the right thing 100% of the time guarantees a smooth, happy life. I've learned the hard way that successes aren't valid if you didn't have to work hard for it. Nothing I've achieved has given me genuine happiness. My test scores don't define my knowledge. Nobody likes me for who I am, just for who I choreograph myself as. Not even the easy lays made me happy.
I decided to do a detour to the park and sat down on a bench. An old lady was sitting next to me, feeding her sandwiches to the birds. Pondering my next 100% successful move, my bench mate turned towards me and asked if I wanted a piece of her lunch. She explained that she really wasn't hungry and she didn't want to waste it on all the birds.
Oddly enough, the suggested answer was "no, thank you". Why would the answer be no? I was rather hungry and she was just being kind. I wanted a free decision. Something originating from my soul, dictating what I really wanted. So I said yes. I said yes to the yummy goodness that was her sandwich.
Bite after bite I started feeling truly better about myself. I could make my own decisions, didn't need a higher power telling me what to do. My breath increased its' pace. Excitement coated my veins as I naively thought eating this sandwich was the best idea of my life. My body began to shudder violently as I realized the true cause of my state. The old crone had poisoned me and now she was silently watching me die.
"Why?" I asked her. "You chose not to use your gift for good, so I'm giving it to someone who deserves it."
| 2018-04-15T14:48:40 | 2018-04-15T12:52:42 | 133 | 85 |
[WP] When you were 7, a genie granted you any superpower you wanted. Now as an adult, you've never regretted anything more. | The genie came to me at a time of embarrassment. After kicking my second grade crush in the nuts, all I wanted was to relive that day and do everything differently. *But why stop there?* he asked me. *Why not have the chance to redo every day?*
I was beyond ecstatic at the proposal, and really it was great. Each screw up, each cringe-worthy moment, gone the next day from everyone's minds. I was the girl who always had a snappy comeback, after having an additional 24 hours to come up with it. I aced every test, admittedly on the second try. Everyone either liked me or envied me. And best of all, nobody could remember how every other day I would explode. I flipped desks, punched peers, bit off a guy's dick giving my first blowjob, knowing all the while that they would never remember a thing.
But then I left high school, entered the real world, met a guy. He was smart, funny, charming, exactly the kind of person I was pretending to be. But I grew tired of hearing the same jokes twice in a row and forcing myself to laugh the second time. I grew tired of having to act surprised or clueless, or whatever emotion was required of me as someone experiencing the day for the first time.
So I deviated. I started going off on the days he wouldn't remember, exploring the world I was afraid to be seen in. I did drugs that would never show up on drug tests. I had wild sex certain to leave marks on my body if it did not reset the next day. I entered many jail cells, only to wake up in my own bed the next day. I lost my charm, my wittiness. After years of relying on knowing what would happen, I found myself utterly clueless at how to talk. I didn't know how to get it right the first time.
I could sense him fading away, growing distant, hesitant. I stopped deviating and stuck to him, desperate to keep this amazing man in my life. But it was too late, the damage had been done. He had seen the utterly clueless girl I really am and decided it wasn't good enough. When he broke it off with me, I sat and cried for hours, praying for midnight to strike. And once it did, I avoided him. I couldn't bear to lose him for real, to go through a break up both of us would remember.
The next day, the one he wouldn't remember, I went back to our apartment. I knew I needed to win him back and I was willing to do anything. My heart raced at what I saw in our bedroom, what I saw him doing with that... whore in our bed. And when her bleeding body fell on top of him, for they had been so filled with passion they had not noticed me earlier, his screams assailed my ears. I was running out the door by the time the knife hit the carpet.
And now I sit, with nothing but a bottle of Jack and a handful of pills. The question is, will this be permanent? Or will I wake up in the morning, doomed to face the atrocities of the world? And if I do wake up, will I have the bravery to do anything differently? | Dylan loved his dog. So when he came across a genie, he asked for the ability to talk to animals.
7 years later Dylan took his dog for a walk on an open field.
"I smell something. Let's go look for it!"
"Hey, wait! It's not nice to just make holes everywhere, Bernice."
"Aw please? I've never smelled something like this before."
"Fine. But we're putting the soil, and whatever you find back after."
"Gotcha."
"Really?"
"I promise! Man's best friend, right?"
"Haha, I guess. What is that?" A metalic click was heard as Bernice dug on. "Bernice no!"
"What?"
"Bernice, whatever you do don't lift your paw!"
"What? Why?"
"That's a land-mine."
"A what?"
"It's going to explode if you let go! I'll call the police."
A couple of minutes later Bernice's impatience showed.
"Go over to that tree. I think it's fine. You said this is old right? That it won't blow up."
"I'm not taking the chance, Bernice."
"I'm letting go soon. Go to the tree if you want."
Dylan lunges forward to try and stop Bernice, but it was too late.
Dylan woke up in the hospital. He could only see out of one eye. His best friend gone, he cries in self loathing. If only he'd not let her dig up that mine. If only he couldn't understand her, he'd have handled her better, and it wouldn't have hurt losing her this much. | 2015-03-18T00:23:16 | 2015-03-18T00:09:35 | 112 | 17 |
[WP] In a world where you can exchange the remaining days of your life for $9.99/day, Jeff's request for $1000 is declined. | "Are we going to see the horses again today?" A wide smile flashed across his face as he looked up at his father.
Jeff looked down at his son, smiled and said "Yes, yes we are. We just have to make a quick stop at the bank and get some extra cash before we go."
"Do we have to?" His sons smile vanished and a look of disappointment appeared.
"Don't worry, it'll only take a few minutes and afterward I'll buy you ice cream!" Jeff looked up at the sky with confidence. This time Jeff meant it, things were going to change for the better and he'd be able to give his son everything. He received a tip from one of his buddies on a bet that would pay off big.
"It's ok if we don't get ice cream." He looked up at his dad again, and smiled.
Jeff and his son walked into the bank and headed straight to the back room where the special transactions were processed. "Give me the usual, $1,000 please! How's about a discount for one of your regulars?" he said to the teller.
The teller reached for his life scanner and looked back at Jeff with a hint of frustration, "Sorry, no discounts. Also, in 9 days new laws go into effect, making these transactions illegal. Bank of American Life will no longer be able to process these transactions".
The teller brings the scanner down to his sons hand and scans. *BEEP BEEP BEEP* "I'm sorry, there appears to be insufficient funds in your sons Life account, sir. Would you like me to try your personal account?"
Jeff looks down at his son, and then back at the teller "But juniors only 8 years old, he's got plenty of life left.... There's got to be some sort of mistake... Try it again"
"Sir, you've been making the max child withdrawal of $1,000 everyday, for a while now. You knew this would happen eventually. Do I need to call security?"
Jeff lets out a deep sigh and says to the teller "I'd like to take $9.99 out of my own Life account, I have to take the kid out for ice cream"
Jeff thought about taking out the $1,000 from his own Life account, but the thought of risking his own life over such a gamble just didn't seem worth it.
| "Want another dance sweetie" she whispers in his ear.
Flipping his pockets inside out he silently tells her he's all tapped out. Not being one to take the first no she grabs his crotch and says "You're young baby.. We just got a new health bank ATM installed"
The young man requests $1000 rolls up his sleeve and starts the process. DENIED flashes across the screen.
Narrator ~ young billy just contracted HIV by using a local health bank ATM. Don't be like billy. Only use Health First Private Health banking for your withdrawals. Now offering 2 month free bonus with all new accounts.
Commercial End | 2014-07-10T10:17:25 | 2014-07-10T09:28:51 | 689 | 166 |
[WP] You, a low rank adventurer who got stuck with the gardener class, have to put up with the higher ranked adventures trampling your garden and making fun of you. One day a famous adventurer trips on one of your plants and dies. Your level skyrockets. No other gardener has ever leveled up before. | Plants feed on the fallen. The soil from which they grow is rich with the nutrients of the dead. The energy of the daisy, the shrub, the towering oak is not destroyed in death. It is passed along through the dirt to be absorbed by the next in line.
I knew a similar cycle applied to us. We adventurers, with our ordained classes, our inborn gifts. I knew the raw powers of the killed passed on to the killer. I knew "greatness" was a pretty word heroes used to describe the piles of corpses they left in their wakes.
"I would love more power," I whispered to my nightshades as I watered them under the yellow moon. "But it's not worth what it costs. The killing. The blood. I'd rather be a humble gardener than have all those deaths weighing on my conscience. I'd rather be weak than vile."
I reached one hand up toward the yellow moon and with the other I coaxed the plant. As I hummed and focused the lunar energies, little buds began to open and bloom from the limb of my nightshade.
I sat back, exhausted. I wiped the sweat from my brow. Accelerating the life of even a small plant left me drained.
"You're so weak, you're not even worth the killing," said a voice behind me.
I started. "Thank you, sir," I gasped. I felt like a mouse being watched by a viper. "I am weak. I know it."
"Pitiful, too," the hero announced. "Do you know the man to whom you are speaking?"
"I have a guess."
"I am Halodin the Unbroken," he said.
"Yes," I said. "There were rumours you would pass by our humble town. I am honoured to be in your presence, sir."
"Ha! And I am disgraced to be in yours. Such is the way of the world."
I did not turn to look at him. Many claimed that he killed any who gazed upon his face, while others claimed that his form was so magnificent the mere sight of it struck the looker dead. Whichever was true, I did not want to find out.
"Look up," he commanded. "At the moon. Now."
I did as commanded. I felt the power emanating from him, behind me. I watched as that full, yellow moon gradually darkened, faded from view, like during an eclipse. And one by one, the stars began to dim as well, winking out of existence until the sky was a perfect blackness.
I could not see a thing.
"You have the power to siphon moonbeams to make your little plants grow," he sneered. "Yet your pathetic powers are enough to keep you content. Meanwhile, I can blot the moon from the sky with ease. But for me, my powers are nothing. Nothing. I'll never understand you wretches, content to simper and bow. Living on your knees. No ambition or pride. Despicable."
I heard him walking past me, his powerful feet sinking into my garden's dirt. I heard the stalks of plants cracking and breaking with each of his indifferent strides.
The world was pitch black. I could not see him. Nevertheless, I closed my eyes, just in case.
"Thank you for sparing my life," I squeaked.
"You call this a life?" he laughed over his shoulder as he strode.
"And watch out, Sir Halodin, for the well of despair!" I sputtered. "The magical pit in the middle of my garden! It was created by one of the Ancients, and boasts a powerful charm. To trip and fall would mean certain death for any man, no matter how powerful."
The hero laughed and continued marching through the darkness, stomping on and through whatever plants he pleased. I imagined how wonderful it would feel to get revenge on someone like him. I imagined how glorious it would feel to put him in his place. To punish him for how he had treated me, for how all of them had treated me.
I dug my fingers into the dirt. I imagined a root slithering up from the dirt to catch his foot. . .
I heard the frustrated growl, then the echoed cry, growing more distant as its source plummeted through those enchanted depths.
Then silence.
The shadow lifted from the moon, the stars. I could see my garden again. And though I could not see Sir Halodin, I could feel him, his power. No longer behind me or before me, but within me. Coursing through my body and soul.
I nodded at the dirt beneath my feet and shot into the sky on the top of a tree; it grew taller and taller, like a spire, until I stood perched hundreds of feet above the surrounding land. With a lazy sweep of my hand, a dense and terrible forest rose for miles in the direction of my gesture.
"The earth is a garden," I laughed, tears streaming down my cheeks. "The earth is *my* garden. It is mine." | Swords. Their metal sings, a testimony to their maker. Coin. It jingles temptingly, a way of speaking their handler may know. But even with a forest of swords, and an ocean of gold, it is all for naught. For when there is no animals, no fruit, and not even a single stubborn strand of grass resisting the earth's embrace, they will all struggle. A blade with no master has lost its edge, as fat pouches clinging feed not the hungry.
 
Do you want to know why humans fight in this world? Power and fame, are common desires. But what one truly seeks is beauty. True beauty. The kind that, once you see it, makes one wish to gouge their eyes out, knowing that the world loses its sheen after they set sight on such a splendour.
 
I am no warrior, I am no trader. I am better.
I am the maker of that beauty.
 
War makes the hungry starving. The breadmakers toil, the farmers work to death. Not me. I am but a gardener. I tend to the flora that makes a princess pale in comparison. I make them reveal their sweet nectars for the little buzzing ones. I guide them to a blossom, and I lead them unto their withering. Every flower, a soul. Every stem, a pathway to the mind. The roots, a part of their little beating hearts. I feel shame when they die so soon, and pride when they show themselves to the world.
They call me weak. They laugh, laugh at the little spirits within the petals. Let them, as they do not see the world the same. Ignorance is forgiven in the eyes of those who know. I know what I shall, and they know what they will. It is not my place to judge the unworthy.
They trample the gardens. They cut the branches. They burn the gateway to life itself. I am weak, but the hearts will defend. I am nothing, the flowers everything. I lend my being to their knowledge. They whisper, tell me how they can aid me. But not yet, they say. I must wait, and wait I will.
 
There is another in the garden, one with killing intent. The flora told me. I've heard of him, he who creeps in the shadows. But there are no shadows in this home, no darkness. Only light. Only purity. I know, because the flora told me. I'll be safe, the flora told me.
 
I plant a seed.
 
The place is silent. I hear rustling.
 
I plant another seed.
 
It's getting closer. I must not fear, because the flora told me not to.
 
I plant another.
 
He dives. I know what will happen, because the flora told me.
 
I plant again.
 
He stumbles. Into the roses. Into the fatal elegance.
 
I plant a final seed.
 
Blood tends to the roses. Less water will be needed, now.
 
I water the seeds.
 
The plants tell me to know my new strength. I listen. | 2021-10-04T16:23:08 | 2021-09-09T20:52:32 | 1,001 | 31 |
[WP] You're a low tier superhero who is often employed on extremely high-tier missions for one reason and one reason only; you're literally indestructible, but you can't damage others. This means you're often used as a human shield. | Kevin was fifteen years old and had an unusual ability for a young man. His skin could not be scratched or scorched. His body could not be shot or shanked, or even shocked. He could neither be bruised nor beaten nor blown apart, not strangled or severed or chopped. Kevin was *indestructible.*
This unusual quality did not go unnoticed the day the plane he was onboard, along with his mom and dad and little sister Julie, plummeted out of the sky due to engine failure. He was found standing inside the peeled open wreckage, as if God had taken a can opener to the hulking steel hull, holding his sister's burned limp body in his arms, as flames licked his blackened clothes. The authorities who arrived first on the scene called him a demon. Who else could stand in the flames of hell holding a little girl's body without (as journalists' photos proved in ultra high definition) shedding a single tear?
Of course, Kevin wasn't a demon. Not phlegmatic or stoic as others would label him, in an attempt at mild generosity. No, the tears simply dried as soon as they left his eyes. He'd wept that day more than every other combined.
The military who 'adopted' Kevin -- their word, not mine -- had never seen anyone like Kevin and he perplexed them. Their scientists couldn't work out how skin could be weaved in such a manner where it simply couldn't be *unweaved*. Not diamond. It made diamond look like soggy paper. Was he born or created? His hospital records made out he was a regular baby. Impossible!
It doesn't matter how he became what he is, said colonel Richards, slamming his first onto the desk and making his coffee jump with fright. He'd had enough of these pen-pushers and pocket calculators cautiously testing this great weapon they had in their midst. At least, of testing him in a lab. The boy needed *field* testing! If the scientists were too chicken-shit to fire a rocket straight at his face, well, he knew some people who would be only too glad to help. He knew a place where they needed a man like that. To defuse a mine field. To provide protection from gun fire.
A human shield? asked the Secretary of State. He'd didn't like this. Didn't have the stomach for sending a fifteen year old boy who had just lost his family into a warzone.
Initially, yes, said the colonel.
Initially?
If he lives, I have other plans for him.
The Secretary swallowed.
The colonel showed his gleaming teeth. A suicide bomber without the suicide. Now that's irony for them! He laughed. Rocked in his seat.
No, said the Secretary. No, we can't do this.
Yes, said the colonel. And not just bombs strapped to him. He'd fly planes into them, loaded with explosives. He'd walk away and do it all over again. And again. And again.
And if he's captured? He might be indestructible but --
If he was ever captured, they'd nuke the area he was taken to. Flatten it out. Kill the Earth. Only Kevin would be standing. Waiting to be rescued.
But first thing's first. Field training.
What if he turns on us?
The colonel's bulldog eyes brimmed with the confidence of a man who is never wrong. Or at least never believe he is wrong. He will do what we say, said the colonel, if he believes his enemy blew up the plane his family died in. | "Get behind him!" a voice yelled as a flurry of gunfire sounded across the desert. Ripley stepped forward, into the line of fire--as he always did.
"Return fire!" The voice called out. Bullets whistled past him in both directions. Every now and then he felt one make contact, falling harmlessly to the ground.
He grew tired of the fighting. The senseless killing on both sides, fighting for some ideal he knew nothing about. Time and time again they brought him into these warzones, using him as a shield against the other's war machines.
He saw a flash on the horizon, accompanied by a loud boom. He saw the object closing in on him, and braced himself for the impact. With seconds he was surround by fire and smoke as the shell exploded against his chest. But he remained.
All he ever wanted was peace. He had great ambitions, once. The idea that he could use his power to bring about the end of wars on the planet once drove him to take these jobs. But as the years dragged on and the wars became more frequent, he found himself growing tired. Now all he wanted was to be left alone.
The men behind him lined up with hand-held rocket launchers of their own, firing in sync before dropping back to the trenches for cover. They barked orders at eachother as the battle raged on.
Ripley had had enough of the bloodshed. Why should he allow something so terrible to continue when he alone had the power to stop it?
A line of tanks appeared across the battlefield, and he made his decision. The man behind him shouted an order, commanding Ripley to prepare for an onslaught of artillery fire. The tanks boomed one after another.
And Ripley let himself fall to the dirt, allowing the shells to hit their target.
He would not play these games any longer.
r/Ford9863 | 2019-04-20T02:16:16 | 2019-04-20T01:39:33 | 219 | 107 |
[WP] When humans arrived to the galactic scene, they thought wars would play out way differently. Instead of bloodshed, there were intergalactic video game tournaments fighting for territory. Most aliens thought humans were newbies to this but when the first war was played, they changed their minds. | YOU DIED.
The runes appeared in (THESMELLOFSTARSANDCOSMICNOISE)'s mind. They translated easily. The entity frowned mentally. Failure. Embarrassment. A slew of unfamiliar chemicals surged. They had created a warrior of pure might, or STR the Humans called it. Defence was uneeded. Overwhelming power always prevailed. Even though they only had, *cellular ripple*, Human forms to choose from they had designed the greatest looking Human possible. It had taken bloody hours. The avatar's questing had yielded a mighty weapon, a blade of such proportions it required two Human appendages to wield. The only requirement of this battle was to outlive the opponent. Victory was assured.
Alas, after pausing to admire a grand visage of Earth, perhaps to gain some insight into the Human mind, but secretly because Earth was just so beautiful, (THESMELLOFSTARSANDCOSMICNOISE) succumbed to a cowardly rear assault. The endoskeleton of a deceased Human had plowed into them with a ridiculous spinning attack, sending (THESMELLOFSTARSANDCOSMICNOISE)'s avatar plumetting off a dire cliff. What a stupid, dishonorable attack, *cellular ripple*. Such a dumb battle sim.
His opponent's battle feed synchronised. A young Human warrior known as Josh. (THESMELLOFSTARSANDCOSMICNOISE) wondered what the title of Josh meant to Humans. The "boy" had reached the final creature, known as a boss, and was engaging. (THESMELLOFSTARSANDCOSMICNOISE) had already lost the bout but was taking no small amount of satisfaction from the puny equipment the human was wielding. A tiny round shield and a weapon that resembled a stick. Such inexperience.
The boss launched it's attack first, it's blade bigger than itself, as is tradition and........CLANG.... the Human managed to defect the blow with the film of metal that passed for a shield. But it did not even counterattack. The avatar spun around, changed all it's trinkets of power and warding, *then* attacked, removing a sliver of health from the boss. This continued again and again, flawlessly.
(THESMELLOFSTARSANDCOSMICNOISE) began to release a gas to cool it's over heating mass. You didn't need to be spawned in the Big Bang to know the Human was mocking it. No, (THOSERELEASEDINTHEFIRSTOFENERGIES) had been around for a while. In this contest of millions of simulated battles across millions of worlds, dimensions, and platforms the Humans were rapidly climbing the ranks. And then some. The newly dubbed (JOSHTAUNTEROFUNSEENEYES) proceeded to the next level while (THESMELLOFSTARSANDCOSMICNOISE) was unceremoniously flushed from it's planet sized habitat tube into open space, left to propel itself home, ashamed and alone.
*cellular ripple*
Edit: the cellular ripple is the best I could come up with for some ancient cthonian creature sighing. | Humans had been late to the Galactic War. It had taken many thousands of years for them to leave their tiny solar system. Once they were able to travel between stars they learned the sad truth about the universe. There isn't much intelligent life left in the universe for one simple reason. It turns out war isn't a human invention. Countless races of people had fallen to the genocides of the Galactic Wars. Strong races conquer the weaker and when the warriors races clashed there was often collateral damage. It was clear that if the conflict continued there would soon no life left The last few races called a meeting to discuss their mutual survival. They decided that their warriors would fight in a simulation. This would show who would be the victory and the defeated could leave without being slaughtered. This played out on world after world. When the humans made themselves known it had sparked quite a bit of excitement. They brought new resources to the scene to plunder. Arrangements were quickly made by the current ruling race, the Sularians to intercept the the humans and introduce them to the cruel cold reality of the galaxy. The Sularians are a reptilian race who are strong, very strong. One hit kill strong. These guys are the current rulers of the galaxy. A simulation ship is sent to each party and the best warriors from each race board. When the humans load into ship they see rows of circular platforms and vr gear from above. As the landscape begins to loads a young man notices that the simulation runs on Java. He calls our to his commander, "sir, I have good news and bad news" and galaxy was never the same. | 2018-04-13T20:38:42 | 2018-04-13T19:10:48 | 54 | 32 |
[WP] You were born with a birth mark the shape of a "9" on your wrist, one day you get in a fatal car accident. You wake up in a strange room and the first thing you notice is the 9 has changed to an 8 | Oh fuck, that *did* hurt like a bitch. Shouldn't have drank that last couple shots of vodka.
I sat up, gave myself a few moments to adjust back into consciousness, staring down at nothing in particular. My head just hurts too much for me to even lift it to a normal position.
My wrist also hurts. Did Larry fucking broke my wrist or something?
I moved my wrist, still feeling the sharp pain, but no bruising or swelling, just the constant stinging sensation. Like needles puncturing my wrist at an extremely high speed, leaving an excruciating pain, numbed by too much alcohol.
I tried to move it again, turning it in a different direction, this was when I realised there's something different, something horribly wrong, about the whole situation.
The birthmark on my wrist wasn't the same as yesterday.
What the fuck happened? It was a birthmark, how can the shape changed from a 9 to something that resembles an 8? Is this for real?
Did I got a laser job done on it while I'm drunk? Or was it some kind of tattoo? Something like the Hangover?
I bent my neck forward a little bit more, lifted the wrist up, and gave it some more examination with my squinted eyes.
It's really not a tattoo or a laser job, the thing really just *changed*.
How can this even happen? I can't even.
It was a *birthmark*. Or supposed to be. Birthmarks don't just *change*.
I don't even want to think about whether a Voldemort have been secretly living in my body for the past 23 years.
Okay, don't panic. Think.
What happened after that last drink? The toilet.
What happened after the toilet? Manny and Joel were calling a taxi to get home. I got on the taxi with them.
What happened in the taxi?
Oh god. What happened in the taxi?
*That* happened. A truck hit the taxi.
I don't remember any blood. I don't even remember leaving the seat. The last thing I saw was that truck, those big, bright lights.
And the only pain I'm experiencing is the headache and that sting on the wrist.
Which the pain was starting to get a bit irritating at this point.
Where the bloody hell am I anyway? Narnia?
The room look nothing familiar, the sheets are too rough, less thread count than the ones I owned; there's literally nothing in the room other than the bed, myself, the purple wooden door with a golden doorknob, and the blank pale blue wall.
I don't know this place, not even from a dream or a story.
Everything felt too real to be a nightmare of any sort, unless I'm in Matrix or whatever, then yes, this all would be legit.
But no. Not a good time to think about this. I probably should figure out a way to leave this room at least, so even I'm stuck in a gap between dimensions or whatever sci-fi stuff, I would have the knowledge of my resting place.
So, as all normal people would. I went and tried to turn the knob.
| "Making my way downtown. Driving fast. Driving faster~."
Ugh, dust and burnt steel(-No, aluminium?) clogging my nostrils and I still can't get that damn song out of my head. Also smells like hot tar. Wonder how close my head is to the street. I'd check, but I literally looking at the back side of my left leg (I know it's the left one because I have a peculiar birthmark on it), although that could be a new ash stain for all I know.
The only thing I know for sure is that I'm not going to risk more damage. You know that splitting headache and grogginess most people feel after getting T-boned on a one-way freeway? Me neither. The bastard hit me driverside and through a short series of broken windshields, a smack against my ear, and a succession of contortions cirque du solei style, I ended up here. I had an unharmed friend in the passenger seat try to pry me out of the wreckage, but despite there being no debris actually blocking my escape, my former friend was too weak and gave up after a petty attempt with half-bent knees.
Instead, he assured me he'd call for help, then told a concerned bystander to call for help. I closed my eyes in contempt, but my old friend mistook the gesture for sleepiness, and giggled as he pulled out his magic marker he must have kept up his ass.
When I opened my eyes he was gone. And so my patience. | 2016-08-03T20:23:35 | 2016-08-03T19:17:28 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] A 16-year-old schoolgirl is taken to a magical world. She slays a dragon, becomes queen, gets married, has kids, and dies 90 years later...only to wake up back at school, young and in her school uniform again, like nothing happened. She notices that her wedding ring is still on her finger. | Well this was unexpected.
Maya Church blinked her eyes open to find that she was a sixteen year old girl lying in her bed.
Now, for a great many people, this would not be an unusual occurrence. After all, there are many sixteen year old girls in the world and as I am sure even the most open minded among you will agree, they should generally be waking in their own beds.
However, this was different. Because Maya could have sworn that when she fell asleep last night, she was 106 years old and frankly, really quite dead.
She sat up and looked around. Everything was exactly as she remembered it, when she left all those years ago. A small pile of clothes on the floor that she meant to put in the drawers, but never seemed to find the energy to sort. The vintage hollywood posters on her walls that in hindsight, were more of a statement of teenage intent than any genuine interest. Even the ugly faux flower pot gifted by Aunt Rose seemed exactly the same.
Sitting up straight, Maya took a moment to consider the options in front of her. The most logical - and Maya had always prided herself on being a creature of logic - explanation was that she had been engaged in a long and vivid dream.
Yes. A dream. In fact, sitting there in her room of Hollywood posters and faux flowers, she cold feel the fantasy land of dragon slaying and throne sitting slipping through the memory traps of her brain, as even the most convincing dreams often do. Bringing her hands together, she decided she would take a breath before getting on with her real day.
As she touched her hands together though, she felt a cold, spherical snag in her plan make itself known. Opening her eyes, the wedding ring she had dreamt so vividly about had made its way on the fourth finger of her real life, not a dream hand. The one her absolutely a dream and absolutely not real husband, Hans, had placed on her dream hand over half a dream century ago.
Sitting on the school bus 45 minutes later, Maya was still preoccupied with the ring on her hand. She was certain she hadn't owned it before last night, where she had dreamt of the land of Erune and of heroics, adoration and Hans. Tucked away in the back corner where no one would pay attention to her, she twisted the ring on her finger and contemplated whether or not the psychotic break she was clearly having could at least translate in to a half decent college essay one day.
Pulling up to the school, Maya snapped out of her daydream to make her way off of the bus and on to the campus of her high school. Before she could safely make the transition from bus to pavement however, a solid figure at least a full foot taller than her attempted to occupy the very same paving slab Maya herself was aiming for. The result was a sudden collision that knocked the considerably smaller Maya on to the floor in a manner that most certainly did not become an imaginary queen.
Looking up from her new spot on the floor, Maya readied herself to give a short but brutal tongue lashing that would inevitably put this tall slab stealer in his place. Just before she could begin her assault, however, the sight that greeted her knocked all witty or acerbic comments clean out of her head.
There he was. Stood in front of her. Hans. Her Hans. Exactly as he looked when she met him all those years ago.
Bending down to help her, he came in close so no one else would hear.
"Hello Maya", he whispered. | A 16-year-old schoolgirl is taken to a magical world. She slays a dragon, becomes queen, gets married, has kids, and dies 90 years later...only to wake up back at school, young and in her school uniform again, like nothing happened. She notices that her wedding ring is still on her finger.
It had started as a day dream in biology class that somehow inexplicably became real. Carol had become a real hero and later a queen of Narnia. She had passed peacefully during the night in her own castle and rudely woke up again in the biology class she had been in so many years ago.
She came to her senses while the lecture about respiration continued. Carol could not remember the teacher’s name, or the names of most of the students. Her first thought was to just get up and leave the classroom and the school, but maybe the teacher or someone else would stop her. She thought that the young man, perhaps 30 years old, could not stop her. He was soft, obviously untrained. Even though Carol had not swung a sword or participated in hand-to-hand combat in 20 years, she was certain that this young, soft teacher would not be able to stop her.
Then she came to her senses. She could fight off several of them if she needed to, she could almost definitely escape the school which felt like a bit of a prison, but what then? She could run away, establish some sort of a business, and live on her own.
Then she remembered her parents and her younger brother Tor. They would still be alive! Oh, how she had wept those first few weeks in Narnia separated from them and her friends. That did it. She would pretend to be her former self, just to get by for the next few hours so that she could see them again.
And then she noticed her magic ring.
Edits: Corrected spelling and grammar. | 2020-04-21T10:59:36 | 2020-04-21T10:31:32 | 53 | 10 |
[WP] You were born blind, but somehow sometimes see some actual people in the darkness. You saw your grandmother for a whole day 4 years ago, she died that night. Now you're in your house and could see every person clearly, except for the visitor your dad is talking to. | "I wish they'd just agree on something and shut up." I thought.
Sighted people take silence for granted. Quiet. Or listening to a book. It's really the only time I get any peace. Every fart, every word, every gust of fucking wind is the equivalent of nails on a goddamned chalkboard to people who can't see. I raised the volume on my MP3 player and tried to ignore them. No such luck.
"Enough of this shit." I muttered and stabbed my feet into what, based on their stench, I could only assume were the rattiest slippers on the face of the earth and made my way downstairs.
"What's going on dad?" I asked.
"Nothing's going on. Do me a favor & go get me a beer." he said. I heard him but it didn't register. I stood there like an idiot staring. I was staring. I never got the chance to stare but here I was. Staring. I was staring at my dad.
"Mike? Beer?" in that offhanded, mildly annoyed tone he used when someone didn't jump at his say so.
"Yeah. I mean, yes sir. Got it." I blurted. I've lived here my whole life. I know every inch. Couldn't tell you the color of the walls but from where I'm standing it's exactly 64 steps to the upstairs toilet & 26 steps from the toilet to my bedroom door. It's 44 steps to the fridge. A short 44 steps later I'm there with a cold can of beer in each hand. 44 steps back.
"Here you go. I got one for your friend, too." I said.
"Thank you, Mike. Now go listen to a book or something. Dad's busy right now." and he resumed talking - arguing? - with his new buddy.
On my way upstairs I stopped dead in my tracks. What I'd always thought was a picture was actually a mirror. There I was. That's me. That's what I look like. Oh, fuck.
"Mike, I told you to get upstairs." dad commanded. It was more of a growl than a request.
"Sorry dad. I'm, uh, a little dizzy." I snapped out of it and made my way upstairs. I know enough to know when things aren't right. I'm blind, not stupid. 32 steps later & I'm knocking on my parent's bedroom door.
"Ma? Mom? You in there?" I called.
"Yeah. Come in." she replied.
"Remember when nana died?" I asked. Her face lost all animation. Her face. I could see her face. My mom's face. Holy shit.
"Yes. Why are you asking about nana, Mikey?" she asked.
"Did I do anything ... funny when she died?" I asked.
"Not that I recall." she said. What could she recall? She was a disaster that whole week. Losing her mom took a lot out of her. At this moment, I could understand why.
"Like, did I say anything or do anything weird that day?" I continued.
"Mikey, I really don't want to talk about this now. Your father is talking to the man who rear ended him last week. Can you believe the nerve on this guy? He rear ends your dad & offers to pay the damages if we didn't file a report but now he doesn't want to pay the full cost. Dad's just going to call the cops, I think. That guy gave me the creeps the second I saw him. Probably why daddy agreed to handle it out of court." I almost heard what she said. I was too busy studying her face.
"Okay." I said. "Hey Mom? Could you do me a favor?"
"What is it, hun? Hey, you look funny. Is something wrong?" she replied, reaching out and touching my cheek with the back of her hand. I didn't recoil. I didn't move at all.
"No, I'm fine. I'm fine. Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just hungry. Can you make me a Hot Pocket?" I asked.
"No, dinner will be ready in an hour. You can wait." she answered.
"Please ma? I'm really hungry. A Hot Pocket won't make any difference." I pleaded.
"Fine." She said. "But you'd better eat dinner. You know how your father gets." She's my mom. She knows that when I've made up my mind to do something, there's just no talking to me. I get that from her. Rather than arguing a futile point about how hungry I was, she just agreed. She also knows my father. If someone says they'll do something and they don't, he can be a real dick. That's gotten him in trouble before.
I watched mom stand up and walk out of the room. Watched her. Maybe she didn't remember about nana but I did. Voices downstairs now sounded angrier than they should have. I made my way the 14 steps to dad's night table and opened the drawer. Cold, hard & too heavy for its size. Yup. That's dad's pistol. I tucked it into my jeans and counted the 89 steps down the hall, down the stairs and to the foyer. When I reached the last step, I couldn't see dad anymore but as I curled my fingers around the revolver I could suddenly see his new friend.
| "Aura!" my mother called. "The guests are arriving, come downstairs!" Soon my home was filled with family and friends ready to celebrate my 18th birthday. My mother had been preparing this lavish party for what seemed like months and only ignored my protests. I held the bannister as I descended the stairs. The only person I really wanted there was gone, but I still had to put on my party face.
My family thinks I spent time with Nana because we were both born blind. This is partly true, but I've never told anyone that I could actually see her. Not all the time, just for a minute or two here and there, but every time her loving face began to appear out of the shadows was a moment of pure joy. Four years ago, I saw her for an entire day, the day she died. She seemed so calm that day, as if she was ready for what was to come. She asked me to come over that morning and we spent the day baking her delicious cinnamon raisin bread. While we enjoyed fresh buttered slices and tea, she looked right into my eyes and I've always thought that she knew. And slowly, she faded into darkness for the last time.
I missed Nana especially during parties, she loved being surrounded by her family. Out of habit, I searched for a glimpse of her kind face in the sea of voices, knowing none would be there. But suddenly, there was! Not Nana's but definitely a face. Faces, arms, legs; all around me people, my family, blinked into view. I gasped and ran to the kitchen to splash some cold water on my face. While the sink was running, I could hear my father in the den next door arguing with a voice I didn't recognize. I peeked around the doorway and saw my father for the first time, but no one else.
"...doesn't seem appropriate, she's still a child."
"Enough," the voice growled. "You know that this what your mother wanted. It's time, Aura."
I felt a hand on my shoulder and frantically tried to see the face attached to it, but it would not appear to me.
"We should speak. Privately." Suddenly, a strong wind whirled around me and my family faded away.
"Do you know me?" the voice asked. A cheerful inflection replaced the earlier growl, but was still unfamiliar. I shook my head.
"Good," the voice sighed. "My name is Zazel; I'm a demon and also your grandfather."
"P-papa died before I was born," I managed to squeak. "He and Nana are buried together."
"I know that's what you think," the voice said firmly. "But we wanted to find out if you were an average kid or..."
"Or what?" Some guy comes in, is trying to tell me I have demon blood, and suddenly can't speak?
"Or like me. You can see your family, right?"
"How did you..."
"You have demon sight, you can see the most honest version of the humans in front of you. Your ability to see gets stronger around other demons."
I paused. "That explains why I can see them now, but why could I see Nana? Was she a demon too?"
Silence, then it dawned on me.
"Those times I saw her, you were there, weren't you." Laughter and applause.
"I was! But I had no idea you had the ability until the day your grandmother, the day she..." He coughed, attempting to stifle a sob. "Anyway, you're old enough to know the truth. Your powers are getting stronger. And that means you can't stay here."
This is my first attempt at doing one of these writing prompts; I'm trying to establish a regular writing habit and thought this would be a good place to start. Any feedback would be deeply appreciated! | 2017-10-09T07:21:12 | 2017-10-09T04:21:35 | 615 | 83 |
[WP] It is said that none but the chosen may slay the demon lord. You aren't the chosen, but you also realize that "defeat" and "slay" are not the same thing. With this in mind, you start making other considerations such as rope, or perhaps a very deep hole. |
Timur sat in front of the small campfire in his tent, shivering from the cold and tending to the deep lacerations across his arm. All the while, he kept a black urn clutched tightly to his chest. He couldn’t die. Not just yet. The demon lord would be arriving soon. Timur’s smoke signals that he had left outside would ensure that he would be easy to spot on this icy mountain.
Sure enough, there was a loud gust of wind as the tent flaps blew open and the demon lord strolled in. He was deathly pale with red bloodshot eyes and black veins that covered his entire face. “You were a fool to think you could escape my wrath,” he said in a cold voice. “Did you really think that you and your merry band of rebels stood a chance against me without the Chosen One?” A sadistic smile grew on his face as he walked over to Timur. “I slaughtered all of them, you know. They all died screaming in agony. You’re the only one left.”
Timur glared back at him, utter hatred in his eyes. “I wasn’t trying to escape. All of us knew that we had no chance of killing you without the Chosen One. But none of us could stand to wait twenty years for their arrival either. Not while you ravaged our country, devoured our families, and spread death and chaos wherever you went. So we came up with a plan. Everything we’ve done was to lure you to this place where we would defeat you.
The demon lord looked down at Timur’s shaking, blood stained hands which were still clutching on to the black urn, and laughed. “Really?” he said, sneering. “You’re going to defeat me all by yourself? Are you going to kill me with some speech about the power of friendship?”
Timur gave a cold smile back to him. “I don’t think friendship would kill you. But I think the 3,000 pounds of black powder buried underneath me might hurt you quite a bit.”
The demon lord’s eyes widened as he processed what Timur had just said. Screeching, he leapt at Timur, trying to tear out the human’s throat. But it was too late. With one strong throw, Timur smashed the pot of black powder that he had been holding into the flames. A massive explosion echoed throughout the mountains as Timur, the tent and everything within a hundred yards was torn apart to pieces and engulfed in flames.
…
The demon lord woke up, screaming in pain. Never before had he felt such utter agony in his life. He gnashed his teeth together and tried to rise up, only to discover in his fury that he had been reduced to a mere head. All of his other body parts had been badly mangled and scattered hundreds of feet away. No matter. He would regenerate all of them in time. He hissed to himself. When he was back on his own two feet again, he would find every single village in a hundred mile radius and kill every single human he found for this humiliation.. He would tear them apart with his teeth, force them to slaughter one another, burn them alive and revel in their screams -- Suddenly, a loud rumbling interrupted his bloody fantasies of vengeance. Twisting his head to the right, he looked towards the cause of the noise. His eyes bulged open in utter terror as he saw what was approaching. Hundreds of tons of snow, earth and rock were racing down the mountains in a wave of destruction. The demon lord’s head screamed and flailed around desperately on the ground, trying to escape. But it was no use. Within seconds, the avalanche was upon him and the demon lord’s screams died out as he found himself being crushed to pieces deep beneath the ground, trapped in the darkness in an eternal sea of suffering. | Sweat trickled from the tip of my pith helmet.. It was getting a little hot in here.
No wonder really, after all the Deamon Lord himself was sitting across from me. Boring holes into my head with his stare. But I had stared down many others like him. Most were angry like him. All wanted to kill me. But not, as they all found out, as much as I wanted to kill them.
I gave him the same chances that I gave everyone that happened to fall into my little trap.
"You, my good man, have a day head start. Then I come with the dogs. Don't dilly dally!"
Confused, the devilman shook his head, frustration mounting. "No. You are the prey now. I have come to take your life."
"No, no no, you must be misunderstanding me. Nothing has ever escaped from this island. I mean nothing. You are no different, chap." I surveyed him top to bottom.
I had no idea how the Devil reached my distant shores. Usually I find the shipwrecked, and marooned, castaways from society. Truly boring game. Its never taken me more than a day to finish them off. I suppose I should have expected to get a personal call from Hell. But I never expected to be so calm.
He laughed. "Puny human, I will enjoy ripping you limb from limb. You should be the one running!"
Sensing an opportunity, I acquiesed. "As you wish, sir."
I duck out the door, quickly down the path now, avoiding a pile of leaves here, a tree stump there.
At the end of the path, I turn. "Come and get me, you mangy idiot!"
Furious, he charged me. He never struck home.
How is it that a little pit, filled with sharpened bamboo, can take down so many beasts? A lion, a human, a devil, they all fall in, eventually.
So many heads upon my wall. And now, finally, the rarest prey. How will I top this one? | 2020-04-27T09:38:29 | 2020-04-27T09:19:32 | 416 | 159 |
[WP] God is tired of being the topic of every other writing prompt. He assembles a team of /r/writingprompts favorites like batman and hitler to stop bad prompts once and for all. | "I'll bet you're wondering why I've traveled through time and space to gather you all here today."
The speaker was seated in a plush rotating chair behind a fine mahogany desk. His back was turned to the rest of the people present in the candlelit room, allowing for a dramatic turn when the time was right. There was a pause. No one wanted to be the first to speak.
"Not really. . ." Batman said, after a while.
The first speaker whipped around dramatically in his rotating chair. A wispy white beard trailed behind his face, which was wrinkled but radiant. He spoke in a voice like a thousand earthquakes, probably.
"What?"
"Ja," said Hitler, "it ees rather obvious vy vee are hier."
Mr. Rogers and Bob Ross nodded in unison from the corner. God looked like he didn't believe it. He spoke again, and his voice cracked a bit.
"Did you know what was going down, Harry?"
"Well. . . Yes, basically," said Harry Potter.
"Trump's hairpiece?"
The hairpiece gave what looked like a nod (they'd tried to get Trump himself, but he'd had irreconcilable differences with Mr. Rogers and Bob Ross).
"Even . . . Even you, Al?"
Al nodded too.
"We're just in a shitty internet story."
"Well, sure he knows what's going on," said Bob Ross, "he's an artificially created superintellingence."
On hearing this, Al burst into tears and fled the room.
"What did I say?" Ross whispered to Rogers.
"Touchy subject, that," said Fred, "turns out he's not actually an artificial intelligence, just some guy named Al."
"Al with an 'L'?"
"Yep."
"Well, don't I feel horrible," said Ross.
Up in front, God was in a rage.
"Well, then, I guess everyone knows my cosmic plan! Why even bother with the whole universe thing, when you all saw everything coming?"
"Hang on just a moment," Ross whispered to Rogers again.
"What?"
"Why don't you tell me the day and the hour of the end times if you're so GODDAMN smart, Bruce?" God screamed at Batman.
"The whole Al vs. AI bit doesn't really make sense," Ross whispered.
"How so?" Rogers said.
"AND YOU, Hitler! I should have just gotten Satan instead. Your time's over, no one up votes Hitler anymore. . ."
"Well," Ross whispered, "this is all dialogue, right? So I could hear people call the guy 'Al'. . .
"I swear, I never should haff founded zees damned association!" Hitler screamed back.
"Just don't overthink it, you're detracting from the main narrative," Rogers whispered back to Ross.
"Wait," said Al, who had returned to the room and reclaimed his seat. He was still sniffling a bit, "aren't we missing a member?"
As if on cue, a green portal opened up and Rick stepped out of it.
"All right, guys, I've" *brrp* "got the solution. You can quit your bitching now, Yahweh."
Rick put a box on the ground and pressed a button on it several times. Strange blue semi-humanoid figures materialized.
"Mr. Meeseeks" *brrp* "go fill the front page of /r/WritingPrompts with original prompts. That don't feature any of these assholes."
"Oh boy," came the choir of high pitched voices, "can do!"
"Make sure there's still plenty of" *brrrp* "Rick and Morty prompts," called Rick after the Mr. Meeseeks[es?] as they ran off. He then took out his portal gun, shot a human-sized green circle, and stepped into it, shouting over his shoulder:
"Rikki Tikki Tavi, bitch!" | And after it was all over, God picked up the phone and started to dial. It was an old red phone of the antique rotary design. The Devil had tried to convince him recently to "get with the times" and use an iPhone, but there was something about the way the old phone made satisfying clicks and clunks, and rat-tat-tat noises as it worked that made God feel like the old ways were the best ways.
After a long wait, in which God reflected with disappointment that a text message might have been easier, the Devil finally answered.
"Hey G man, whats up?"
"Hi Lucy, just thought I'd call to let you know what I've been doing this afternoon."
Lucifer, who hated that nickname, knew that he'd won the game already. If God was phoning to brag, that meant he didn't know.
"Ah, yes yes..." Lucifer replied. "Actually I am well aware of what you did two hours ago, and have already wiped your work off the front page of that subreddit."
"What do you mean, Lucy? I put so much work into getting rid of stupid God prompt postings."
*He was using that name again.*
"You forget my greatest strength, God, that of luring idiots into temptation. You ought to know, having written it yourself into that old book of yours. No matter how many people you can influence to be clever and original, for every one of yours, I can do a hundred with lameness, stupidity, and plagiarism."
"But..." the Lord interjected.
"No 'buts', G man. Have you checked the new postings yet?"
God put the phone down. The heavy clunk of the receiver as it came to rest on the switches didn't make him happy at all. Neither did the beeps and whistles of the old modem as it dialed up his internet. The heavy click clacking of the IBM Model M keyboard was also of little comfort as the new thread titles appeared on the 18 inch CRT screen.
And then he saw it. Just ONE hour after he'd finished the cleanup.
*[WP] God decides that he's had enough and that he'll be handing over the responsibilities of watching over and guiding mankind to the Devil for an entire year.Writing Prompt (self.WritingPrompts)*
*submitted an hour ago*
| 2015-10-20T10:03:15 | 2015-10-20T09:56:12 | 166 | 20 |
[WP] You are a wish lawyer. You help clients negotiate wishes from genies, faeries, dragons, and other wish granting entities.
You also do faustian bargains with devil
Edit: Woo! I finally made it to the top of writing prompts! | "Alright, listen carefully. This is very important. I am on my way, but it's going to take me about 6 hours to get from New York to South Dakota. There are some things I will need you to do. First, shut your mouth. No talking, no matter what. Second, find yourself some benadryl. Over the counter. If you don't have it, buy it. Take 6, then lay down and go to sleep. When I get there, we will talk further. Leave a key under the doormat. But no matter what, don't talk!"
I hung up, and put my phone in the TSA security tray. Djinn were the worst. Very liberal with what they considered a "wish", and always listening. Last client I advised with one, the poor bastard used all 3 wishes in the time it took me to get across town. Upside, they were relatively straightforward, not as many monkeys paw scenarios, long as you followed the rules. Hopefully, this kid could follow instructions.
I arrived on scene about 7 hours later. Kid was still sleeping. I grabbed my briefcase, got out of the uber, and walked to the front door. God, I hated small towns. They all reeked of desperation and manure. The key was there, and I let myself in.
Lamp was next to the kid's bed. Middle eastern in origin. Kid lucked out. Some of the djinn from East Asia were much more limited in ability. Maybe 1 in 100 cases have this much potential.
When the kid awoke, I was sitting in a chair across from him, contract on the table. I spoke immediately, as far too many people don't keep their wits about them when they wake. "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty! Don't go opening your mouth just yet; we'll get to that in a minute. First, payment. If you'll be so kind as to autograph the standard agreement, we can begin."
The kid was hesitant, a bit uncomfortable. Guess he's not used to waking up with a stranger watching him. No matter. He read the agreement, signed his name. Will Bryant. Excellent.
"First, the rules. All wishes are governed by a few, shall we say, guiding principles. You can't wish for more wishes. If you try, all your wishes will be cursed, and you do NOT want a cursed wish. Remember the giant candy mascot in NYC a couple decades back, killed like 75? Don't answer that. Cursed wish. Stay puff something or other.
"Next, you can control actions, not feelings. No wishing for love, or the like. The best you'll get is a homicidal maniac collecting your hair while you sleep.
"Finally, djinn are a special case. They aren't malevolent, but they are literal. So I will have you write down what you want, and then I will text you the words to read, exactly."
The whole process took an hour. Kid wanted fame and adoration, had to direct him to wishes for skill and charisma. Fame is emotion, when you get right to it. He went for skill in acting. Pretty standard, more than a couple Hollywood regulars got their start with me. His final wish was boring, wealth. I advised gems, as they are easy to pull from the earth and refine. Easier to do means more can be done. Thanked Will, took the lamp, and shook his hand. After that, I was on my way.
Outside, while waiting for my ride to the airport, I ran one clawed finger down the lamp, leaving a minor scratch, before muttering a few words and sending it away. I carefully placed the contract into my briefcase, and smiled. Will would have his run, then we would have ours. Consulting is such an easy racket in the soul game. Haven't had to waste my own ability to grant power in decades. And I don't care whether you're a djinn or a goddamn sphinx. Nothing fucks with a devil's bargain. | Wishes. Why wishes? So complex. So open and vague. Why not just make an offer? Rub this lamp and I'll buy you a car, get on my good side and I'll hook you up with a date, pass my test and I'll clean your garage. But no, it has to be horrible, lazy *wishes*. Because of *traditional values*. Because that's how it's always been done.
Fine. It puts me in a job, so what can I complain about? Except the world of spiritual and magical contract law is horribly underdeveloped. The texts are ancient, older than time in some cases. Which not only causes some jurisdiction issues in a place where time tends to move fairly rapidly, it also means they are horribly outdated. Nothing is formally defined, everything is in different languages (some of which are incomprehensible to most beings) and no one can agree on what kind of an action deserves a wish. My point is there's a lot of loophole-closing, discrepancy-fixing and general debuggering.
Wishes are horrible. A wish can be anything. You know how hard that is to regulate? I doubt there is anything more difficult than getting a sphinx to spell out a clear set of terms and conditions. But otherwise everything goes to pot. No wishing for more wishes. No pinning a wishbone back together to break it again. No wishing on false eyelashes. Wishes were not meant to be abused; they were meant to give the poor, powerless, mortal humans a bit of an insurance. It was a kindness really. But humans (and I say this as a colleague of demons like getting people to smell their own spleens) are assholes. Give them an inch and they take a mile. So we need to set some limits before the humans end up with more power than they deserve, or know how to use.
Good thing they gave the job to a hellspawn then. Where better to find the shrewdest, most conniving, sneakiest beings than in hell? And who knows, maybe I can worm something out for our own benefit. 'Wish' is an awfully vague word but humans seem to like the sound of it. Let's see what we can do with that.
------------------
My very first writing prompt response. Didn't really know where I was going when I started. Didn't really know where I was going when I ended either. Might clean it up a bit tomorrow when my eyelids aren't having such a hard time fighting gravity. | 2018-07-18T16:02:05 | 2018-07-18T15:54:58 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] You are trapped in a small, windowless room with nothing but a computer with a text editor. When you type in a word, the object appears in the room. However, there's a catch: the only keys on the keyboard are in the first half of the alphabet (A - M). | *Quite the interesting puzzle* I think to myself. *With so few letters, the vast majority of words simply won't work.*
I try out a few words, but most of what I can think of doesn't fit the qualifications. Eventually I type in MAIL.
A letter appears in front of me. It seems to be addressed to someone in Finland. I read the letter, it seems to be a credit card bill... why did this guy spend 300$ on corn?
Either way, generating random letters won't get me anywhere. I need to escape. I need some sort of weapon if I'm going to escape.
SWORD doesn't work. neither does GUN. however, it occurs to me that there's a ton of types of guns, maybe I can use one of those. I look and... yes, the keyboard does have numbers.
AK47.
And right before my eyes, an AK47 appears. I spend some time figuring out how to use it, then I fire it at the wall. No effect.
What I really need is a chainsaw. But of course, can't type that.
OK, let's try a different approach. Maybe I can try typing up someone who can get me out of here. It occurs to me that ME would fit... but what use would there be in summoning another me. But something like CONSTRUCTION WORKER won't work. The longer a string is, the less likely it is that it will work. Then, a strange thought occurs to me. But... no, GOD doesn't fit. Summoning god is probably a stupid idea anyways. That being said... there's quite a few religions, maybe another religion’s name for god will work. the first one that comes to mind is ALLAH which... holy crap it would work.
But... there's no way I'm going to summon a god from a religion I'm not even familiar with. I'll save that as a last resort. Does Allah smite nonbelievers? I have no idea. And I can't even summon a QURAN to check.
On that line though, I consider WIZARD. But of course, wizard won't fit. Neither will MAGICIAN. but MAGIC does work. Hmm... So I can add the magic modifier to anything I want.
I type in MAGIC MAIL, and another letter appears in front of me. I open it, and the voice of a middle aged man starts reading out the contents. It seems to be a letter to his son asking how things are going at "magic school".
This won't help me escape.
What I need is a person with magic powers. MAGIC MAN doesn't fit. Neither does MAGIC LADY, MAGIC GIRL, MAGIC BOY, MAGIC PERSON, MAGIC HUMAN.
Wait... hang on. I recall another option I previously dismissed. I type in MAGIC ME, and sure enough, someone who looks just like me appears, but wearing wizard robes.
"Yo" I say to magic me.
"Yo" says magic me. "Where am I?"
"I'm not completely sure. I just woke up here, but there's this computer that'll let me summon anything I want, as long as it only contains letters from A-M." I say.
"Wait... really, that's OP" says magic me.
"You'd think so, but there's not a lot you can type in. The best I could think of was 'Magic me'." I say.
"So THAT'S why I appeared here." says Magic me.
"Pretty much, yeah. Can you get me out of here?" I say.
"Of course. Anything for another me." says Magic me.
"Great, bring the computer too. I'm going to hook up a complete keyboard, and see what this baby can do." I say.
And so, I teleported out with magic me, and we lived happily ever after. | I stare blankly ahead at the screen in front of me.
My blurred reflection gazes back from the dark empty monitor.
I begin to type.
"h-e-l-l-"
There's no O key.
I erase and stare.
...
What is this place?
There are so many missing keys it seems impossible to complete even a single word.
Hmm...
Maybe some sort of command will work...
"F-i-l-e."
I watch the letters blink rhythmically on screen and press enter.
The word stops blinking for a moment, and then disappears.
Nothing happens, no command screen, or prompts of any sort.
Exasperated, I lean back and analyze the room. Same as it was when I woke up. Empty, sterile, windowless and doorless.
Although I now realized there was something I hadn't noticed on the floor. A manila envelope, the type you'd see in an office, laid unopened just behind my seat. I reach down and open it, and a white piece of paper with the word "File" printed on the middle slides out. I stand in stunned silence, staring back and forth between the computer and the file.
Did I do that?
I quickly sit back down at the desk, my mind racing. Did it work with anything? What other words could I type with this useless keyboard?
My stomach grumbled. When was the last time I ate something?
"B-a-c-"
There was no O or N. Maybe something easier.
"H-a-m."
ENTER.
I whip around to see an immaculate roasted ham sitting in the center of the room. It's steaming as if it's just been taken out of the oven.
I eat a small piece and it may very well be the greatest thing I've ever tasted.
Then it dawns on me.
What this place could be.
I know what I have to do.
I sit back down at the computer.
"M-"
I'm shaking from nerves and from disbelief.
If my assumption is correct-
"E-"
This place is-
"M-"
is-
"E-"
I hit enter and a printed picture of Ainsley Harriot with the words 'OIL UP' above his head appears directly in front of me.
I pick it up with tears in my eyes.
"This is Heaven." | 2017-05-09T10:08:14 | 2017-05-09T09:43:38 | 83 | 57 |
[WP] A half elf, half orc, half dwarf and half halfling join forces for their common goal, finding their shared human parent | Tomas leaned his elbows on the counter, watching the group at the far corner of the bar. Four of them, they'd come in over the last week, one at a time. Most of his clientele being human, it wasn't too much of a surprise that they ended up sitting with one another. He personally had no problem with dwarves and elves and orcs, unlike many of his kind.
Well, that wasn't entirely fair. The number of half-elves in the world indicated that humans didn't have a problem with elves, and the existence of half-orcs also indicated that there was a certain potential attraction there as well. Half-dwarves and half-halflings were less common overall; in fact, these two were the first he'd ever seen. He wasn't sure if it was a fertility problem or an opportunity problem.
The female half-orc raised her arm, beckoning for another round of drinks. He knew what their orders would be, so he poured the appropriate drinks and put them all on a tray. Telara went to take the tray, but he shook his head. "I'll take it over."
He wasn't quite sure what had occasioned him to choose to deliver the drinks in person, but as he came over, he observed equally curious looks in his direction. The half-dwarf girl, skinnier than most of her kin and with barely a fuzz of beard on her cheeks, nudged the half-elf youth. "Go ahead, ask him!"
"*You* ask him!" hissed the half-elf.
"Ask me what?" he asked.
The half-halfling, who bore a passing resemblance to a human teenager, sighed and shook his head. "These two have been listening to too many bardic tales. The ones where the innkeepers have the exact revelation needed for the heroes of the story to beat the evil ogre wizard. And so they wanted to ask *you* about our problem."
"And *I* keep tellin' these yo-hos that that's bein' unfair to ogres 'n' wizards," the half-orc woman said patiently. "Also, givin' too much credit to innkeepers, no offense intended."
Tomas chuckled warmly. "None taken, miss ...?"
"Delka," she said. She looked around the bar. "Nice place ya got here. For a human inn an' all."
"Not that everyone else here thinks the same of us," observed the half-elf. He held out his hand. "My name is Treman, sir."
"Nice to meet you, Treman," Tomas said, putting the tray down then shaking the youth's hand. "Your friend here mentioned a problem." He shrugged. "I know it's something that gets used far too often in the tales, but the truth is, we do hear a lot. Maybe I can help."
"All right then," said the half-dwarf. "My name is Melaka, and this," she indicated the half-halfling youth, "is Petris. As odd as it might sound, we're all related."
Tomas blinked. "That's definitely a new one on me. Same ... father, I'm guessing."
Delka looked startled. "How'd you know that?"
"Regional accents," he replied with a grin. "No two of you were raised in the same area. Different mothers, therefore the same father. So what's the actual problem, here?"
"Well, isn't it obvious?" asked Treman. "We're looking for him. He's an adventurer, or used to be one. Humans don't usually last much longer than twenty years doing that sort of thing, or so I hear."
Delka nodded. "I'm the youngest of the four of us. My mother told me that after he left her, he made it big. Killed a dragon and took all its hoard. So we figure he retired on that."
"A fair assumption," Tomas allowed. "So what are you kids doing here, anyway? In this town, I mean? And what do you want with him? A share of the treasure?"
Petris shook his head. "No, we just want to meet him. Find out what he's like. Maybe get some pointers on being an adventurer. As for why we're here, this is the biggest human town in the direction he was headed, the last Delka's mother heard of him. So we figured we'd ask around town and see if anyone had heard of a retired adventurer settling down here in the last fifteen years."
"Yeah," Delka said with a grimace. "It's hard enough growin' up a female half-human in the orclands, without havin' no father around."
"Hmm, I suppose you have a point," Tomas agreed, He pulled a chair over from a nearby table and spun it around, then sat down with his arms crossed over the back. "Well, just from me, I can tell you that one thing every adventurer needs to learn to do, and that's to notice every detail you can. Always be looking around, keeping an eye on your surroundings."
Melaka frowned. "That's pretty well a given. Why?"
He looked at her and grinned. "What colour dragon was it you said your father killed, back in the day?" Raising his eyebrows, he tilted his head toward the counter.
"A green one, why?" Delka looked that direction, as did the others.
At the large mural of an armoured human battling a green dragon, on the wall where a mirror normally would be.
Tomas smiled. "You didn't look at the name of the tavern before you came in, did you?"
He had never seen four people face-palm in unison before. It was quite entertaining.
"F-father?" Delka, for all her heft, suddenly looked small and lost. "Is it really you?"
"As ever was, kiddo." He barked a laugh at the dropped jaws that confronted him. "Well, well. I always wondered if anything ever came of my wilder years. Looks like it did. Welcome to the *Green Dragon*. I'll let Telara know that whatever you want's on the house." Standing up, he shoved the chair back where it had come from.
"Where ... where are you going?" asked Petris.
Tomas nodded toward the counter. "As you can see, I've got a tavern to run. But stick around. After I close up tonight, we're going to do some catching up." Pausing one more time to take in the sight of his children--his *children!*\--he headed back toward the counter.
For a man who had no family, he mused, tonight was going to be one hell of a family reunion. | Chief Komarod sat on his throne. The high chief of the Orcs glared down at his son Opoguk.
"Why must you find her?"
"Because my chief, she gave me life."
"I played a part too boy."
"I know chief, still, I want to make sure she is okay."
The chief's expression remained cold as steel, though he began to contemplate this. He remembered the lovely woman, and the time she had spent with him in his keep. The times they shared, tender, and fleeting. Then he remembered when he found out about all the time she had also spent in the company of the elves, and the dwarves. What's next? Was she going to go about with the halflings as well? Bah, she was better off gone.
"Boy, if you search her out, you are banished."
"That... is something I am prepared for." his son replied.
"Then be gone! Be gone from my lands. If you are so much as spotted in these lands again, my hunting parties will bring me your head."
With that Opoguk turned, and walked solemly straight out of the keep, and kept walking onwards towards the border. After he'd made it some way down the trail, he decided it best to begin moving at a jog, lest Komarod has a change of heart and send the hunting parties early. There has never been an Orc half-blood in as respected a position as his before. He led a hunting party. He was a renowned warrior, he had his choice of women in the camp.
Still, he had an uncontrollable urge to seek out his mother. She needed help.
As hunger began to fill Opoguk's belly, he wrestled the spear from his pack and began to seek out his next meal. Following unmistakable tracks in the dirt, Opoguk managed to find a deer. Deer meat made for a good meal and Opoguk crept silently towards it, intent on ending the hunger dwelling inside him. He raised his arm, and with a mighty swing and a flick of his powerful wrist, the spear landed perfectly embedded in the heart of his delectable treat.
Skinning and dressing his kill, he prepared it to be cooked. Prepared a fire, and constructed a spit on which to char its flesh. After the juices began to run almost clear, the meat was cooked perfectly, Opuguk began tearing portions off and devouring them. His belly full, he settled down for rest. He was well outside the borders of his father's kingdom, he was on his own.
The next morning, Opuguk rose with the sun. Still early, the birds were singing their songs, and the morning dew still hung around on the leaves and grass. Grunting to himself, he picked up, and got his bearings towards the kingdom of man. Setting off towards the sun, he worked up to a jog, one that he could maintain for hours, and was off.
It was several hours before Opuguk heard a rustling behind him. With a sudden turn, a slide in the dirt, and his spear raised to a battle position before he was even still, Opuguk prepared himself for a fight to the death. He let out a warcry, and prepared to charge the bushes.
Just before he did, a woman crept out. A human woman. As she did, she eyed him gently, almost lovingly. She was dressed in simple clothing, a dark grey robe that was too loose to truly make out her form. She carried with her a staff, the likes of which powerful magi usually carried.
His resolve faded, though he tried to maintain the appearance of brutality. "Stay back." he shouted at her.
"Opuguk, my son. I've been waiting for you."
His spear dropped. His breathing quickened.
"Mother?"
"Yes Opu."
He ran to her. He closed his arms around her, enveloping her in his huge form and oversized muscles. Lifting her from the ground. "Mother, I've missed you."
"I've missed you too Opu."
He was crying now. An Orcish warrior crying in the middle of the forest holding his mother. If an elf could see this.
"Why did you leave?"
"I had to Opu, we're going to accomplish great things in this life. We're going to stop the war."
Opuguk's face contorted. "You may be able to stop the Elves and the halflings from fighting. But us Orcs, and the Dwarves, ha! We'll be fighting forever."
"Perhaps Opu, but perhaps they will fall in line once my children take their respective thrones."
A nasty, inevitable smile took her face. The power of her magic radiated from her, such that the woman that Opuguk had sought out for comfort now provided him no such thing. Still, this was his mother. His father had banished him from his kingdom. A kingdom he would rightfully rule.
Opuguk realized that while he remained a pawn, he was always such. At least now... he would rule. | 2020-04-24T09:49:23 | 2020-04-24T05:45:59 | 120 | 44 |
[WP] In the afterlife each religion has its own walled city in which their god or pantheon protects the believers within from the soul-gnawing horrors outside, while atheists are left on their own
Shoutout to u/Tonkarz who had the [idea](https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/7eao4f/exreligious_people_of_reddit_what_was_the_tipping/dq4b4y6/). | "Welcome to the afterlife."
Martin looked around, from the overcast and grey clouds to the flat and slightly beige ground. He couldn't see anyone except the elderly lady who had greeted him. She seemed bored.
"Where am I?" he asked.
"Since you ended out here, with us non-believers, you're in the atheist afterlife."
"So there is an afterlife," Martin thought to himself. "Shouldn't I end up in some kind of heaven or hell, based on my non-belief?"
"No, only the true believers live with their god or gods. You, you are on your own."
"Shouldn't it at least be more than just grey clouds and featureless ground?" Martin asked.
"It is what you make it," the lady said. Then she disappeared, with nothing noting that she was there before.
Martin stared at the spot the lady just had stood, stunned and confused. Martin had never thought much about the afterlife, and now that he was here, he felt lost. His life ending and being nothing was what he had expected, not this featureless nothing in which HE was still alive.
He stood there for what felt like days, paralyzed with an angst greater than he ever had experienced when thinking of death. Now he had... eternity and no purpose. He tried hurting himself, to feel something other than panic and a deep loneliness, but he felt nothing. He tried running, but he found nothing. He tried yelling, but he didn't even hear an echo. He felt like crying, but no tears came out.
He didn't get tired, hungry or hurt. It was only him, his panicked mind, and a featureless expanse. For eternity.
___
After what had felt like an eternity to Martin, he heard something behind him - a crunch of sand, which was strange, since the dirt had never given a sound when he trod it. He spun around, afraid, but also thrilled to at last see *something*.
It was a woman, enjoying the sunset while walking along a beach. She seemed surprised to see him, but also welcoming.
"Why is there a beach there?" Martin asked feverishly.
"I wanted a beach to be there," the woman answered. "I always liked seeing a sunset on a beach."
Martin started following her, while she strolled along the beach. The sand, waves and the cloudless sky followed her, as did the sun.
"How?" Martin asked. "Are you a god?"
She laughed at him then, a pearly and happy thing. "No, I'm as mortal as you are"
"How can you do this," Martin asked, enraptured by her power and the beauty she created.
"When you have no god, you are the master of your own life." | Would I have done things differently? Yes, I would. Because an eternity in a godforsaken desert is not something you volonteer for. But the real question is: what would I have changed? Which religion should I have chosen? On Earth, they all preach some kind of heaven; here, reality is very different.
They call them 'walled cities'. Not because you can't get in, but because you can't get out. They're prisons where worshipping gets a new meaning.
Christian City is filled with poverty. Hindu City is so overpopulated, that they're eating each other. There are no virgins in Muslim City, not anymore at least. And Buddha? I'll get to Buddha later, and you'll be surprised when you hear his real story.
Those are the big cities. There are many other small ones, but none are any better.
So, the question was: which religion should I have chosen? The answer is short but not rewarding: I should have chosen my wife's. | 2017-11-21T07:28:42 | 2017-11-21T07:28:08 | 50 | 17 |
[WP] A Djinn travels the world, granting people a single wish. However he never gives the person their wish, instead you receive the benefit of the last persons wish, passing your wish forward to the next person he meets. | Rent. Everyone has to pay it, and each in our own way. I guess I shouldn't be complaining, because my place is bitchin'.
Everyone thinks that djinn hate staying inside their lamps. They think that we're confined, trapped inside, and depend upon some hapless human to ring our doorbell ad nauseam like a Johovah's Witness on crack so we can take a peak outside.
Well, everyone's wrong. We're home bodies. Granting wishes is just the way we pay rent.
Once a month, some human finds my lamp at a flea-market, poking out of the beach sand, or wherever else my landlord decides a djinn's influence is needed. Then, for the next hour or so, I listen to some mortal yap about whether he would like money, a wife, or any other number of wishes until I can return home to my estate.
I've got more servants than the current employee base of Walmart. The standard deviation of grass length on my lawn can only be written using negative exponents, and I have more acres that a southern plantation owner. I've had a 90" plasma flatscreen since before the Crusades, though I do admit there was a lot less to watch back then than there is now. If there's one thing you mortals get right, it's quality television. Football beats the hell out of watching two knights poke each other with sticks on horseback.
But anyways, everything was going as it has for millennia. I pay my rent, the humans leave happy and fill out a satisfaction survey, and sometimes I get a bonus at the end of the year. It was dandy, until last year.
Don't get me wrong. I like your average guy, the one that's not afraid to admit he's selfish at heart. The one that's easy to please- I'll satisfy his lust, or greed, or revenge with a wish, and we'll both be on our way. But I *hate* a pretentious goody-goody who feels the need to change the world for *his* idea of a better place.
When my doorbell rang that morning, I was in my bath towel, and used a considerable amount more mist than usual to cover my more private areas.
"Djinn Dray, of the 19th order spirit, powerful beyond wishes, granter of dreams," I said, launching into my normal entry talk. Inspiring awe is the best way to keep my meetings with mortals short.
And boy, oh boy, was the boy awestruck.
His mouth fell open as he watched me, his blue eyes still innocent with youth (a well placed wish would fix that), and the ends of his shirt blowing in the wind I produced.
"Well golly," The boy said, shifting his feet, "I ain't never seen anything like this before."
"Golly," I replied, "You ain't never going to see anything like this again either. You have one wish- allow me to grant it. Do you want riches? Love perhaps? A double life span? Wishes concerning rapping abilities are also at a current high ever since I frequented Detroit back in '96."
"Well I don't know, mister. I think I'm pretty happy the way I am. Did any of those wishes make the person more happy?"
I paused. This was tricky. By all standards of living, yes, the person was more happy. But such wishes can change a person, and often they became more miserable than before.
"Sometimes yes, sometimes no. Often a person doesn't know what they want." I answered, carefully.
"Well then. Jeez, I don't know if I could ever choose what I would want. Maybe everyone would be happier if somebody else chose for them. Yes, that's my wish. I wish that everyone receives the wish that the person before them asked for!"
I opened my mouth to object, but the lamp had already begun to withdraw my spirit. The boy had made his wish, and my power had granted it.
And ever since, my satisfaction surveys have fallen through the roof. I'll be lucky if I get another bonus in the next ten years.
The next person to rub my lamp wished for a greater love than he had ever had before.
The gentlemen after that was poor, and asked for money so he and his wife could never work another day in their lives. He never got his money, and instead lost his wife when she caught him cheating.
The next man was rich, and asked for a personality so that he could make friends that did not care about his material wealth. Instead, his bank account doubled.
Each month seemed to get worse. It's an utter disgrace, just because of one boy's ill thought out wish.
I'll be downsizing my estate soon, and there will be a garage sale this Saturday.
********
By Leo
| He was eerily human. Not like the movie "Alladin" where he's some blue mist. He could probably pass as a human on the street. So long as he wore sunglasses. His eyes, were, well, not there. I never really asked him if it was because of some accident, or that's how Djinn are. It never really came up in our conversation.
You might be wondering how I came across a Djinn. Well, you know that stereotypical magic lamp story? Well, that's true, except it can be *any* lamp. Turns out there was a translating error in their, "Book of Rules" I guess you would call it. So one day I'm cleaning up my desk, and I see a spot on my desk lamp. I rub it, trying to get it off, when a puff of smoke comes out between the lightbulb and the socket. It's really weird to describe a solid object forming out of smoke. The smoke flew around a bit, picked a nice spot in the middle of my cubicle and just, kind of, flew into a human shape. Then it changed colors and, there was a person with no eyes. Standing in my cubicle. Wearing jeans and a Star Wars T-shirt.
"Uhm. Hi?" I say. What do I say when, well, you know what happened, no need to repeat it.
He stretches and yawns. "Sup, name's Paul. Your wish is my command, yadah yadah yadah. Sign here." He pulls a piece of paper out of nowhere, literally.
"Uh, what is this?" I grab the paper and a pen and start to read it.
"Basically just says if you die or get injured directly or indirectly by a wish, you nor your family can sue." Not sure who I'd sue exactly.
I sign it. "Ok, so, what, I get three wishes now?"
"Nope, one."
"Anything I want to wish for?"
"Besides more wishes."
"Ok, well, I wish I had a better paying job, with less work to do."
"Noted. Have fun with your money, it's being sent into your bank account."
That's not what I wished. "Did you mishear me? I said a better-"
"I know. You probably should have read that paper before you signed it. You get the *previous* dude's wish, not yours. Anyway, ciao." And he just walked out. No big exit. Didn't even go back in the lamp, he just walked away.
So now I have a billion dollars. Well, not really. The police are looking into why I'm suddenly rich. In fact, I'm writing this in the Precinct right now.
- - -
*How'd you like the story? If you want to read more stories by me, checkout my originally named subreddit, /r/TheDynastyProject. Drop by and learn about the American Civil War! :)*
*Edit: I'm dumb and forgot the other asterisk*
*Edit 2: Slap me in irons, I have commited the second worst writing crime known to the English speaking man. I used the incorrect there. It was supposed to be their "Book of Rules"* | 2015-06-17T11:48:00 | 2015-06-17T11:03:24 | 46 | 28 |
[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 always thought I would die from being stabbed in the back by a dirty, dull knife. Some sort of poetic justice, if you will, at least regarding the stabbing. My knives were always sharp.
When they brought me to court, they told me that it was magic--out of the realms of a simpleton rogue like me. They waved a wand at me and told me that I couldn't lie, even if I wanted to. So when they asked why I did what I did, the answer was simple and truthful:
"Because it paid well."
Though a little half-hearted, it was with no less candour. Gold was necessary for survival, but it's a little strange how the most important thing in my life wasn't necessary. In demand, but not needed.
I was sentenced to death. I had no letters to send, no people to speak to. That suited me just fine. This was already more dignity than I was used to.
I thought the end of all that would be a noose. A vial of poison. The swing of an axe.
"Sybil Harper," the burly man in a black hood pointed to the woman in front of me, who stepped forward with impunity. "How would you like to die?"
"Of old age," she said.
The executioner brought out a wand, comically undersized in his large, meaty hands. But he was learned, magic-touched--and with an incantation and a bright streak of purple, I saw the half-elf's hair go from black to grey to white, her ears drooping, her height diminishing, and her confident poise hunchbacking.
With that, old Sybil Harper hobbled one, two steps, before collapsing onto the floor. When they turned her around, there was a toothless smile on her face.
"Ged Ruell," the headsman said now, and I gulped, my mind turned around in an instant. "How would you like to die?"
"Doing what I love," I said.
The wand came out, once more, and this time, a fiery red beam unleashed itself upon me. I struggled with its power, forcing my eyes entirely close, but eventually, calm washed upon me like familiar ocean waves lapping at my feet.
I opened my eyes, vision lit again, slightly obscured at the sides with black, and with the sight of my dead body on the floor. It was dragged away swiftly, without honour or respect.
I could not hear my own thoughts. Now, it felt like I was drowning, my thoughts swirling into a perpetual maelstrom, unable to keep my head above water, oppresive dark cloud and shrieking thunder blackening every sense.
"Elliot Cobbett," the words came out, not entirely of my own volition. I watched my hands point to another man in the line. "How would you like to die?"
"Quickly," he replied.
The hand dropped once more. Instead of a thin wand, the hand encircled a familiar, leather-wrapped handle. And in a stormburst, the clouds cleared, and one thought rang true.
"With pleasure," I said.
---
r/dexdrafts | 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. | 2021-06-24T09:55:49 | 2021-06-24T08:24:48 | 803 | 11 |
[WP] You often get mistaken for your twin sister. Though it never really bothered you, now that she's become one of the most feared criminals in city, it's starting to become a problem. | “Hands up! Don’t move!” the loud voice echoed down the street as the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
*Another day, another mistaken identity*, I thought to myself. I dropped my purse and slowly raised my hand over my head. As I turned I could clearly see the fresh faced cop. He stood on the sidewalk back from where I had come and was staring at me behind the sights of his sidearm. Beneath the forced determination, he looked half as scared as I felt. Or, at least, half as scared as I felt the first few dozen times this silly situation occurred.
“I said *don’t move*!” the officer stressed. He began talking into his walkie as I began to plead my case.
“Look I know who you think I am, and once you check with your sergeant we can get this cleared-”
“Just stop talking and don’t move!” he interrupted.
I sighed. Usually the officers I had to deal with were at least somewhat familiar with my family’s troubles. Of course someone fresh from the academy wouldn’t be fully up to speed. I made a mental note to file a complaint about lack of training for new hires.
“My name is Catherine Daniels. You are looking for Denise. My twin sister!” The officer didn’t interrupt me this time. The crackling voices from his radio must have provided enough doubt to give him pause. He looked increasingly more uncertain than scared or determined.
“Your dispatch should have told you to check for a notarized form”, I nodded to my bag now lying on the ground, “It’s in my purse. I had it laminated the last time I was falsely arrested.” I didn’t tell him the city said explicitly not to laminate the form. Didn’t really seem relevant at the moment.
“O-okay. Then I’m going to detain you and verify what you’re saying.” The fear may have been gone from his face, but his voice still wavered. “Slowly turn around and put your hands behind your back.” I nodded and slowly turned. With my hands behind my back, I heard the officer approach and held still while he cuffed me. “Now I need you to sit while I inspect your bag.” He almost sounded deferential.
“On the ground?” I protested. He paused for a moment. I noticed.
“Yes. If your story checks out it shouldn’t take long.” He said as he took my cuffed hands and, almost gently, forced me into a seated position on the curb. I shook my head and audibly sighed.
It had been a few months since the last time a stop had gone this far. Usually I was familiar with the officer and could convince them who I was with a few friendly words. The police wasn’t too big for me not to personally know each patrolmen by now.
The officer took my bag several feet away and began digging through it. After finding the form and my driver’s license, he started making calls over his radio again. Usually when I was stopped by officers in their cars, they could verify my information on their in their in car computer. A foot patrolman didn’t have that luxury. Speaking of, I began to wonder where his partner was. It was rare to see a foot patrolman alone. Just as my thoughts began to wander, I heard footsteps approaching.
“I’m sorry for the confusion, ma’am. I’m told I shouldn’t detain you any longer as your paperwork checks out.” He knelt and began to work the cuffs off my wrists.
As I stood, I rubbed my wrists and looked at the officer with a half smile, “Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time.” The officer chuckled nervously. “So… Can I have my purse back?”
“Oh! Of course!” The officer quickly responded and presented my purse. “Make sure to get your signed form updated at the courthouse! It’s set to expire next week.” I already knew this.
“Oh, wow! Things could have gotten messy if you had caught me next week! Thanks for the reminder!” I said with feigned surprise.
“Well take care now. I’ve let dispatch know you’re in the area so other officers on patrol shouldn’t stop you if they see you.” said the increasingly more calm officer. He waved to me as he left down the street in the direction from which he came.
I smiled. That couldn’t have gone better. Unfortunately for me, this was the last time I could use that “get out of jail” card since it expired next week. But for now, it was a true blessing not having to worry about the increased police presence in the city.
I continued on my way with a new found confidence knowing I wouldn't get stopped again today.
It really was too bad about my sister. Her living in the same city as me had really been convenient. Getting a copy of the city form she had to renew monthly was trivial. And bribing a few key cops to have them obfuscate the check in procedure just enough to allow me to use said copied form was relatively cheap. Especially considering the freedom this small costs had afforded me.
When Catherine told me she was moving, I really did try my best to convince her not to. But when she broke down in tears and told me she couldn’t stand living in a city where she was constantly mistaken for a criminal, I began to understand just how much her situation was affecting her. I ended up having to let her go but I did make her promise not to tell the city when she did. Her original agreement required this, but the misdemeanor charge it carried was not nearly enough to deter her from disobeying me.
So here I walked in my final days of freedom. Next week I’d have to return back to having my associates run errands for me. It really was a shame.
Then again, bribing city officials couldn’t be that expensive… could it? | ~Unedited~ it’s short. sorry if it’s horrible. Hehe
“Sir, we are terribly sorry for this” I halfheartedly listen to the captain since I was fascinated by the way the bushy mustache twitches along the words he was spouting to save face. Going by the looks of the graying halo of hair upon his head, he’s older then me by quite a bit. Most likely around my fathers age.
“captain ...” with a quick glance at his name tag. “Wheeler, I’m not going to say it’s fine, because it’s not.” I knew something big was going to happen today. Being a 21 year old male that’s mistaken for a women once in awhile is in for some kind of weirdness, but this was not the type of weird I was thinking of. Wiggling my aching wrist in front of him. Putting the reddish-purple rings on show for the man. Not giving him time to respond I stand my full five foot seven inches.
“You, and your fuck-tard of a crew, have mistaken me for this female fugitive..why?” Leaning over the desk placing my hands on the flat surface. “Who is she?” I demand. “Your shit spy boys don’t know how to handle a compliant person. My back is sore from being shoved to the back of the car,” ‘fucking violently’. Pausing, I realize my face is inches a way and I’ve been shouting the face of the man. I lean back and sit back down giving the man a look of frustration. ‘I mean I know I’m feminine in looks, but to actually be mistaken for a possibly high ranked fugitive that the C.I.A.’s actively searching for.’
Running a hand threw his hair the man sighs. Looking like he’s aged ten years. He opens one of his drawers beside his desk. He pulls out a thick cream paper binder with the words TOP PRIORITY stamped onto it. “This is, Kassy, No last name, that we know of. She is the suspected co-leader of the infamous group, Defiance. Known for raiding warehouses that contain imported oil, while setting them ablaze. Leaking sensitive, and valuable information to the public, killing leaders of various other criminal gangs and taken over their territory and dealing. heists of millions in several currencies, artifacts of Ancient Rome. Many innocent have been killed it their ‘cleansing of the corruption’. They are simply too dangerous”
“Okay, but what’s this got to do with me, I’m only here to find out why you guys are Fucking harassing me! Day and night for the last 4 fuckin’ years”. The man sighs. Muttering how I’m just like her. “The reason is you, look eerily similar to her” he says pushing the monitor to face me.
“What the fuck!?” Looking back at me is a girl with the same shaped eyes. Same unique eyes that change from blue to green to gray, depending on the light and clothing. The lips are the same too, small delicate mouth, same button nose. “Why do you have a pic of me in drag.”
He looks confused “ I haven’t the clue of what this drag is, but sir this your twin sister” I look at him. ‘Twin? Is this fucker crazy? ‘. “I only have a brother. My mother had her tubes tied so, unless my father was unfaithful, she can’t be my twin. “
“We have DNA evidence that proves otherwise Mr. Brown.” Handing me the document I look seeing the patterns of the samples showing similarities that only twins could have. “How-
Before I could finnish the question an weave of intense energy from an explosion blasts threw the room we’re residing in causing me to be thrown to the floor. The ringing of my ears are the only thing I can focus on, but faintly I hear the sound of a pistol shooting followed by the thud of a body hitting the floor, the director I assumed since it came from his direction. My head is jerked forward, my eyes meet their reflection, before everything goes dark. | 2019-11-03T10:01:40 | 2019-11-03T07:56:52 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] You are kidnapped by a dark cult, who sacrifice you to their eldritch god. When your soul arrives in the being’s domain, the deity profusely apologizes and offers to send you back if you get rid of the psychopaths who are slandering his good name with bloodshed. |
The man across from Casey typed rapidly on his computer, eyes glancing from screen to screen. He was NOT happy.
To be perfectly honest, neither was Casey. Gruesome death by ritualistic stabbing wasn't how they had planned to enjoy their evening, but, well, life happens. Or, well, happened. Now they were BOTH annoyed.
The businessman stopped typing briefly to speak.
"I'm... I'm sorry, one more time."
"Of course. I was just walking down the street, I think it was... 42nd? and Lex? When a shadowy guy stepped out from under a fire escape and started trailing me. I was reading a news article on my phone, so I didn't pay him any mind, and it's the city, y'know? People have places to be. But when somebody else in the exact same all-black getup joined him behind me, I started to get a little worried."
The man across the desk, who introduced himself simply as "Blake", listened intently, only occasionally leaning over to type something.
"So anyway, fast-forward a few blocks and there's probably half a dozen of them now. I started walking away from my apartment, I figured if I was getting mugged, I didn't want them to know where I lived, and that's where I screwed up. That part of the city has a lot of dead ends, and only moving there a few months ago..."
"You didn't know where you were headed."
"Yep."
"I see. So, they cornered you, black-bagged you, and then dragged you into a car. You drove for a bit, then the next thing you know, boom, creepy murder basement?"
"Creepy murder basement," Casey agreed. "Got tied to a table, bunch of robe-wearing cultists start chanting in a language I can't understand, the ringleader raises this crazy dagger above his head, and few minutes later, fade to white. Now I'm here."
"Once again, I'm very sorry about that."
"You're good, I'm not mad at you, just your, uh... followers?"
"I'd prefer not to be associated with them. They know more OF me than ABOUT me. If they did, you wouldn't be here."
And really, "here" wasn't too bad. Casey didn't know what purgatory or wherever they were was supposed to look like, but for whatever reason, Blake had chosen to build this small section of it into a bougie, modern office. There were fancy books on elaborate steel shelves, little knickknacks and tchotchkes under tiny spotlights, and a massive floor-to-ceiling window behind the solid wooden desk, through which an endless field of stars shined brightly.
"Oookay!" Blake said as he finished typing with a solid thock on the return key. "And there we go. You're all cleared."
Casey's attention snapped back to him.
"Cleared for what?"
Blake remained silent as a massive grin spread across his face.
"Oh god. Is it time? Well, where to? Heaven or Hell?"
Blake's smile faltered. "Uhm. Neither? I don't have that kind of authority, and in any event, you aren't really supposed to be dead in the first place so--"
"Wait, can you bring me back to life?"
"Hm? Oh, back to life? Of course! Yeah, that was happening either way. I was documenting this and getting clearance to give you a little something extra for your troubles."
"Oh?"
"You see, being a deity isn't as great as everybody makes it out to be. Sure, higher lifeform and everything, but having people running around and ruining my reputation with sacrifices and weird chanting and awful fashion choices--I mean, seriously, black robes? In this weather?--but anyway, look. I can't interact with the mortal plane. Bunch of bureaucracy that would take several eternities to get through. So I have a proposal for you."
Listening to the deity ramble dulled Casey's annoyance. The guy just seemed so... human. His mannerisms and style of speech screamed 'stock broker', not 'time-transcendent god'. It genuinely seemed like he was just ticked off that some weirdos were misappropriating his name, not that some dead guy had shown up at his extra-dimensional office without an appointment. Maybe the cult associations were bad for business.
"How would you like some cool new superpowers?"
Casey stared blankly, failing to understand.
"...As opposed to my old ones?"
"Hah! You've got jokes. Good to know you're taking this well. But yes, I'm really tired of these... hooligans, frankly, dragging my name through the mud because one or two of them misinterpreted a tablet I left in a desert a few millennia ago. Honestly, the nerve of some people when it comes to--"
"Blake. Mister. Mr. Blake, sorry. If I may. Sir. The powers?"
"Oh, yes, of course. My apologies once again. I don't often have company, you know! But yes, I'd be granting you a few abilities on one condition."
Casey knew there had to be a catch. Resurrections weren't just handouts, after all. What awful thing would he have to do? Lose his family? Limbs? Oh, god, his free will?
"If you go around and 'take care' of the people who are making my life so difficult, I'll make sure you enjoy the rest of yours. Sound good? Oh, and naturally, any time you spend in my service will be added to your total lifespan. Nobody under me works for free."
A long silence filled the air as the two sat perfectly still.
"That's it. Get revenge, free superpowers, AND bonus life? No other catches? Manipulations? Taking my firstborn?"
"Casey! You wound me. Seriously, though, it really is that cut-and-dry in this case," Blake said matter-of-factly.
He spun one of his monitors around to Casey. Two bar graphs were prominently displayed, moving up and down. At the bottom and sides of each were labels and dozens of lines of indecipherable characters. Casey didn't get it, but by the way the Blake gestured at the graph, it was apparently VERY convincing evidence.
"See, you had your life stolen, so it's only fair you get it back, and, should you choose to help me out, a little payment for your troubles."
"So... 'take care of them'. You mean, killing them?"
"Well. Look, I despise wasting human life, so a more... mindful approach would be preferably in this particular case. That said, I do understand that some may be too far gone, so... just make a judgment call on that one, but please don't do anything extraordinarily violent or stupid. Exceptions for self-defense, of course. They've already killed you once, after all."
Staring blankly at the incomprehensible bar graphs, Casey realized he probably could just take his life back and the deity would grant him his request. But... superpowered psychologist sounded pretty nice. And not being dead sounded better.
"You know what? Screw it. Supernatural therapist-assassin sounds way better than anything I was doing before."
Blake stood up and extended his hand over the desk, smiling excitedly.
"Then we have a deal!"
Casey, grabbing his hand, smiled in turn and replied.
"We do indeed."
Blake quickly led Casey into an adjoining room where he gathered a small amount of miscellaneous objects, giving Casey a crash-course on getting back to Earth. While he moved from shelf to shelf, he quizzed Casey rapid-fire.
"Okay. So these are?"
"Transdimensional safety cookies."
"You will eat?"
"One of them."
"How many seconds before un-dying?"
"Fifteen."
Blake, who had been standing on his toes to reach a backpack on the top shelf, turned around and gave a big thumbs up, eventually pulling the pack down and setting it on a table.
"Excellent. In here," he said, gesturing to different pouches on the backpack, "are a few swords, some divine weaponry, and a psychology textbook. Remember, un-brainwashing is preferable to homicide."
Casey nodded their agreement. Having done the whole "dying painfully" thing, they agreed that it really sucked.
"There's also a cell phone which you can use to call whenever you like--I do enjoy our conversation--and a bunch of occult materials you can use to blend in or do whatever you want with."
The tutorial apparently now completed, the pair walked back out to the office. Blake smoothly grabbed an ornate coatrack that had been sitting next to the doorway, and, without any warning, launched it over Casey's head, sending it crashing through the massive picture window.
"Okay, well, I suppose this is goodbye for now. Call whenever you like, and once more, while I'm sorry for throwing a wrench in your life, I'm glad you agreed to help."
"Anytime," agreed Casey, nervously sticking their head out the shattered glass and into the abyss.
"Well, go on."
Donning some fake bravery and praying to the one god that they happened to now know personally, Casey gave a quick mock-salute and fell backwards into oblivion.
Time to take back their life and help some others find theirs. | “Ga-aah!”
I shouted, my body shooting up from its seated position, as I felt the movement of a tentacle around my foot, my eyes widening before I shoved the creature off of me, hiding a bit of a screech right back down in my throat. I didn’t know what the hell had happened, I didn’t know where the hell I was, I didn’t even know if I was in heaven or hell. What I remember however, was frightening.
I remember being dragged outside of my home, men standing at massive heights of six feet and four inches, or more, all taking my pitiful six foot two frame, and pinning me down. Multiple men, pushing me into my sofa, me hearing my table break and seeing the cold and unforgiving barrel of a shotgun pointed at my head to force me to comply, as I was stuck in the neck with some sort of sharp object, likely a needle. I remember that they began to strip me then and there, before dragging me along, as I passed out.
The last thing before that, I remembered that I was explicitly in a forest. A forest. A place full of trees, with absolutely no sand, looking up at the full moon being blood red. I remember I, a minority, wanting to actually beg for those men in white hoods, or those men in white masks, before coming to these men in black robes. Their laughter deafening, and their skin revealing marks of some language I couldn’t understand, and had never seen, before I felt my ankles get shattered. It was only the pain which shot through my body that told me I was tied down as I tried to retreat and pull back from them, only to feel said wrists just like my broken ankles fail to kick back against them. The amount of fear I could absolutely feel coursing through my body, if I could put a feeling someone would understand on it, was akin to drowning in a sea of fire, and that fire had become a raging inferno when I saw the blade come down, right onto my chest, hearing their chants and seeing them stab into me, feeling blood pour out of my mouth as they called for some figure, raising their hands into the sky in triumph, the light of the blood red moon shining on me as a burning sensation coursed through my body, feeling as if my soul itself was leaving into an eternal torment.
“I’m so sorry. I thought your soul was in a slumber, please forgive me please.”
My head snapped into the direction of whatever was talking, and I could feel my eyes slowly widen as the light blue colored sight seers appeared to try and help my brain make sense of what I was seeing. On the beige sand, was something which sounded as if it stood at a normal human’s height, but in truth was farther from it. It had to have at least been 10,000 feet tall, upon its tentacles were gigantic bulging eyes, and rows of teeth, with a changing color between green, black, and brown, shifting as it moved. I was horrified.
But more than that. I was pissed. Pissed because I knew this meant that the only reason I died, the only reason I was stolen from a home I had only bought but a month ago, the only reason that a life I had gone through of racism, classism, and colorism, and yet managed to still come out on top, was ended……was because of that thing. That thing. That. Disgusting. Thing.
“You-“
“I know. I know. I am super sorry, I don’t know what the hell happened. I had tried my best to send the world a positive message and yet this is happening and, fuck, oh my god.”
“Oh my…..god? What the hell are you, a demon?”
The creature seemed to look down at me, as a gigantic eye seemed to fall the thousands of feet down below, slamming into the sand and sending it everywhere as it covered my body, making my black afro be a practical birds nest.
“I am what you humans would call a God, and before that, I am Shig-Rah-No-Thek.”
I didn’t even want to pronounce that name.
“So why am I here. Why are you playing these fucking games. Why am I…..cursing at you?”
It was an honest question. A moment ago, I was fearing human beings who simply stripped me and stabbed me, and yet now, I was screaming at this, thing. Something which would have likely ripped my soul into nothing but shreds beyond atoms.
However, after seeing this, after the proof of a soul was shown, and now knowing a god existed, I guess logic was not something which mattered.
“Around me, people feel at ease to be themselves, and feel fine in opening up. This is what I am truly about.”
I was shocked at his last sentence. Not because his people contradicted that statement, I know plenty of Christians, but it was because of the sadness which came in his voice.
“I’m super sorry about them. Please understand that what happened was not supposed to happen. Let me explain.”
The same tentacle which wrapped around my foot, was now wrapped around my torso, lifting me up into the sky slowly…..and yet I didn’t feel scared.
“I am a God of peace. True peace, and true understanding. I believe in the rights of the protection of Earth, and the Universe as a whole, I believe in the equality of the creatures my father created, I believe in everyone having a right to love, and I gave more than enough for everyone to live a happy life, but a sector of my people seem to have started to take people and become….”
I looked shocked when I saw a gigantic blood red water droplet hit the ground, splashing and making an oasis on the ground as the creature began to cry.
“They changed my message of peace and rewrote my books into messages of war!”
I heard him weep, and admittedly, I felt like the awkward friend trying to console a friend.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m sure someone will truly put an end to them.”
I could feel eyes all over looking down at me, a slight bit of a scare inside of me, until I heard the cheer inside of his voice.
“Could you?”
“What? How, I’m literally dead-“
“I can bring you back. And then you could stop them and truly spread my word again…..please?”
“…….you’re a middle brother aren’t you?”
“How did you know?”
“You’re really pushing for this, not in a brat way like a younger one, but not so authoritative like an older one.”
I sighed. I knew that what I was going to say was about to be the dumbest thing I could ever say….but.
“I’ll do it.“
“THANK YOU SO MUCH!”
I held my ears, shutting my eyes, before opening them and looking around.
I was back in the real world. And those men were dancing around, before pausing, and looking at me with eyes which felt like they were cowering in fear.
I didn’t realize how tall I got.
-KILL THEM. PLEASE KILL THEM-
-Hey Thek, relax. Also how are we talking right now?-
-Connection as my only blessed follower, it makes it strong.-
My hand reached out, and in a flash, shadows came around the men and cloaked them, crushing them down into dust.
-There’s more.-
-I figured.-
I sighed once again. This felt like a sitcom rather than something serious, and by the gods, Thek included, I knew this was going to be more of a pain than an issue.
*Though I guess every older brother helps a younger one, or at least they should.* | 2022-07-10T00:57:49 | 2022-07-10T00:43:43 | 714 | 49 |
[WP] There is a 2-4 week window in which the sun lies between Earth and Mars, making communication impossible. Thirteen months after the first Mars colony is established, one planet decides to pull the greatest prank in human history. | James woke up feeling unnaturally happy. He didn't expect the lack of comms to hit him so hard, but being the only person on a planet without any form of communication had gotten to him.
Regardless. Today was the day. He could finally communicate with the world again.
He got up, showering and preparing his morning coffee. He knew it seemed silly, but he didn't want to seem overeager, like he was too excited. He felt like he needed to be strong for everyone back at home.
James sipped his coffee, watching the Martian sunrise. It was a thing of beauty, it really was. He heard the comms unit whirring to life, and he smiled. It was time.
The screen in front of him turned on, and his commanding officer stared back at him. He felt a shudder of relief.
"Greetings, sir," James said, putting his coffee down on the table. "How are things back on Earth?"
The commander smiled. "Great! Just great, how about you? Can't believe it's already been two years, eh?"
James frowned, then smirked. "Two? It's been just over a year, get your head straight!"
The commander narrowed his eyes, then laughed. "Ah, James! Always a sense of humour on you. Listen, I'll be right back, we've been having some anomalies back here-"
The screen suddenly shut off. James sat there in silence for a while, contemplating what happened. It had only been a year, he was sure of it.
He got up, and all the lights abruptly switched off - causing him to accidently knock his coffee to the floor. He swore, kneeling down to clean it up, and noticed the date on the comms screen.
*2 years.*
25 months. How could this be?
The screen switched on, with the commander staring back at him. Was he wearing a different outfit?
James felt sick. "Sir, I don't know what's happening, but, I don't know."
The commander looked concerned. "What is it?"
"I think... I think something's wrong here, sir. You're going to think I'm crazy, but-"
The commander burst out laughing. "Calm down man, just a practical joke. One of the interns figured we could change the ship's date remotely, and we just couldn't resist." He laughed again, wiping a tear from his eye.
James wanted to be angry, but honestly all he felt was an immense sense of relief. He forced a laugh. "Good one, commander," he said gritting his teeth, "nice job with the lights especially."
The commander looked at him, confused.
"The lights..?" He turned to a man at his side, who shook his head. Then he leant closer, peering at James with concern.
"You doing ok, son? We haven't encountered any errors in your ship's log. Could it-"
The signal dropped out, leaving only static on the screen.
The lights briefly flickered, casting him in a flashing darkness. Then the screen switched on, and the commander gazed at him, wearing a different outfit and looking somewhat more weatherworn.
"James! Good to see you, good to see you. Sorry about our lack of communication - four years today, eh? Big day!"
James stared at him. This joke had stretched on too long - but how had he switched outfits so quickly? And how had they made him age like that? He looked at the date.
*Four years.*
"Sir, please, Enough of this. I don't know what's happening, but if you could-"
The lights flickered again, and then the whole ship was cast in darkness. Then, just the screen switched on, and a regal woman stared back at him.
"James, we'll get you out soon," she said, her face slowly softening. "My God... it's like you haven't aged a day."
He looked at her wildly. The date blinked, flashing across his vision.
*12 years.*
James struggled to hold himself together. "Ma'am, I don't know who you are, but where is the commander? What the hell is happening?"
She stared at him with concern. He could just make out her whisper to someone offscreen, "we need to get him out quickly."
She turned her attention back to him. "James, please, whatever you do, *don't let the dark-*"
The lights went out. No flickering, no sounds. Just pure and utter black.
And in the darkness, James screamed.
*****
*****
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I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | Chapter VII - The First Interplanetary Civil War
Widely Considered one of the greatest blunders in human history, the First Interplanetary Civil War (henceforth referred to simply as FIC War) happens at quite an atypical time in human history. While humanity itself had established tenous colonies on Mars for about 200 years at this point, humanity's ability to manipulate gravitational forces was extremely weak, meaning that when the sun was directly between the Earth and mars, an event happening once every 27.3 years, communications were impossible as humanity did not yet have the ability to set up intra-solar communication satellites.
It is not within the scope of this textbook to discuss the development of human progress for such a discrepancy to occur, yet is nonetheless critical to the catalyst of this bloody affair.
During the time, tensions had been abnormally high between Martian colonies A1B and 3C4 (the reasons should be made clear in Chapter 4), yet it was nothing to much to worry about as at the time Earth politics were considered of far more importance than Martian ones, and no one paid any heed to such developments.
However, on the night before the disconnect was to happen some disturbing reports were reported to the UN intelligence agency (still unknown to the larger public at the time, see Chapter 9 for more detail) suggesting that anarchists had been planning to take over key military installations in the two colonies had use them to fire nuclear warheads on one another (the warheads were placed there in accordance with the 312th Versailles Accords). And just before communications fell, several cries for help and/or simply screaming were to have been sent by colonists to their relatives.
What follows is a quite indicative of human nature and a culmination of Terra-superiority that stayed for years to come. The majority of the population celebrated, glad to be rid the "Martians" as they were referred to. the Purist party, which was the main contender for the UN senate next election had increasingly encouraged followers to demand what was theirs, they reasoned Mars was just a leech on Earth's resources, when, in reality, Mars was an invaluable resource was raw material.
Nevertheless, when the period of silence ended and Mars was able to be contacted once again, it was reveled that it had been a prank, that is, a practical joke.
Naturally, there were riots on the streets of Earth, some radicals calling for Mars to be nuked anyways. Martians were distraught, and claimed the Earth's ugly prejudices had come to light.
After the AC5-S tower and Mt. Oc6 terrorist incidents (discussed in Chapter 8), tensions boiled over and the Martian Corps attacked the lunar base, at the time still loyal to Earth.
Although seemingly foolish and rather funny in a morbid way, some historians argue that the war was a necessary diffusion of tensions, that it forced prejudices into light. Regardless, the fact of the matter remains: a bloody civil war that stretched for 2.6 years started because of someone's sick idea of a practical joke.
***
It's supposed to be an entry in like a history textbook. Low on time today, so I decided to try a non-traditional way to tell a story all while taking some jabs at textbooks themselves.
Feedback is appreciated.
(minor edits) | 2016-10-17T13:34:15 | 2016-10-17T12:38:54 | 348 | 161 |
[WP]: Your son's solution to every problem was to fake his own death. Broke a vase? Fake death. Failed a class? Fake death. Moving out to college, he mysteriously disappeared. 20 years later, you get letter in familiar handwriting. "Mom? Please don't get mad, but I REALLY need your help..." | "I'm sorry Ms. Williams, this is never easy but is this your son."
As she looked over the body on the examiner's table, Alice began to cry.
"You know, it's hard to tell how events will shape a young mind. Little James was in and out of the hospital countless times in the first five years of his life. It got to the point that the hospital rooms felt more like home than our little townhouse ever did. During yet another surgery there were complications and he fell into a coma. We thought we were going to lose him, but my brave little fighter didn't want to go yet. When he finally woke up and I squeezed him hard with tears in my eyes I was so happy my baby had come back to me that I swore I'd never let him go. I'll never know if it was the time in the coma or perhaps my reaction to him coming out of it, but something had changed in James. At first, it seemed like just playing a game, little things like floating face down in the tub when I'd come in to check on him or holding his breath when he'd play possum after his naps. The first couple of times my reactions were real, I'd scream and pick him up and hold him tight with tears running down my face; then he'd open his eyes and smile and say 'Look, I'm okay mommy!' and he'd laugh and I would laugh right along. As he kept it up I played along, it was just our little game, my brave little boy poking fun at death that had threatened him so many times. One day he changed the game, he had knocked a vase from our end table and rather than fess up or lie to us about how it happened; we found him lying motionless on top of the broken glass. Of course, I was mad at him, but when he finally opened his eyes and smiled at me like he always did, I went right back to playing the game. As James' games became more elaborate, he'd make fake blood and trick ropes to stage grisly death scenes, I just saw the creativity, the artistry of my son's creations, I was sure one day he'd find his way to Hollywood and put his prop making skills to use. His father never liked the games, he called it sick, he thought there must be something wrong with both of us that we could go about with such a macabre sense of humor. The night we came home from the party to the staged murder scene to cover for the failing grades he was getting in history was the last straw. His father had packed his bags and was out the door before James had even opened his eyes to let on to the prank. I stopped playing along after that, even his Cheshire grin could no longer brighten my face. He'd continue to stage endings that were more grand and detailed to try to get my attention and I ignored them. The night he drove off to go to college I received a phone call from the state patrol, his car had gone through the railing of a sharp curve and plunged into a lake. They were going to try to recover the car and the body inside, but when these accidents happen sometimes the lake refuses to give our loved ones back. I knew he wasn't coming back, not because he was in the lake though, this was just another one of his games, trying to get me to react like I used to. But that was 20 years ago, and he kept his game going the whole time. Until I received this letter, begging me for help...the little shit. I guess whoever he was in trouble with this time got to him before he could play one of his games. Yes, that's James."
As she walked down the street, Alice imagined what life would have been like had James not been born prematurely. If he wouldn't have had all those health problems at such a young age, or if that fateful surgery might have gone smoothly like the others. Would she still have her son? Would her husband still be with her? Would she have grandchildren by now to spoil and love? These dreams of a perfect life that wasn't meant to be flooded her as she collapsed into the seat of her car. Her eyes blurry with tears she drove away from the station towards home. She wiped at her face with the back of he hand as she turned into the small neighborhood she called home. Still blinded, she heard and felt something hit the car. Alice instinctively slammed on the brakes, lept from her car and ran to the passenger side to see what had happened. To her horror, she saw a young girl, no more than 6 years old lying next to her vehicle, blood already beginning to pool by the head. Frantic, Alice picked the small child up and screamed for help while running down the neighborhood street. Then she heard a tiny voice.
"Look, I'm okay, grandma!" | When you lose a child, parts of you die with him. You hear stories of people who disappear mysteriously only to be found alive several years later, and you rejoice.
Then the time passes. You're not spending only hope now, and the debt increases as you try as many possible ways to find him.
But time passes once more, and now you're the one who's getting more weared, battered every day. The others around you are giving up, they tell you it's over, "but not my boy!", you say.
Not the boy who brought you that super expensive horchata from the coffe place down the street with his own alimony just cause you let it slip that you always wanted to try it. Not the boy who would stay up all night with me, trying to nurse me back to sleep when the insomnia didn't let me and refused to go to his own bed. Not my boy, who faked his own death a million times after a broken vase, a failed class, you name it, just because he couldn't feel like hurting a living soul. With time, that became a type of tradition, I guess.
But as I said, when your son dies, this time seemingly for real, parts of you die too. The last one to go was hope.
So when I opened that green envelope on the night of last wednesday and read the first lines, I was dumbfounded. Cause the writing sounded like my son, the request was his, but that familiar writing was not.
" ... I need you to go to my room, tonight, at 22:45... "
I looked at the clock stuck on the wall, and it was 22:40.
There were two possible explanations here: first, a sick person could be doing this in hopes of taking that last strenght that keeps an old lady doing her chores through the day, almost on automatic. Second, much less likely, something mysterious was happening that could maybe, just maybe, give me some closure after all this time. And anyway, the clock was ticking.
I revived some of the hope once thought to be dead and went upstairs.
His door was locked, like I always kept it, so the handle jammed a little to open. In the dark room, I tried reaching for the light switch only to realize that that lamp was long gone. With the phone's lantern, I started looking for the thing he specificated in his letter. Looked at the phone: 22:42
Moving through his piles of clothes and objects, I found his favorite cd back in the day, one from Helloween. With the clock suddenly not on my mind anymore, I put it into his old cd player and the music started...
Not fully understanding my actions, I sat on his bed like I'd done several times before and read the lyrics through the liner notes as the music played:
" Forgotten in his reich of shadows, Banned forever, One thought. The lord of the evil Was given name and place of the seventh sea, Shelter of the seventh key. Who was betraitous? I guess You know. There would be more than one name to name, Now he whose name is many searches for the one, The one strong enough to survive As his terrestrial hand Enticement and promise will crown the king
A puppet on a string. For a thousand years. So they sing "
That was when I heard the wardrobe door slightly open...
| 2018-09-25T06:09:51 | 2018-09-25T05:50:38 | 94 | 28 |
[WP] Aliens invade Earth, but it's not the humans that defend themselves: it's their Gods. The thing is, aliens cannot comprehend the idea of all-powerful beings, and multiple races team up to go to war against Earth. Gods and Demons of multiple religions are now in battle, defending their Earth. | The first days were full of despair.
It all began with this tsunami, hitting the coasts of India, China, and South Korea. No one saw it coming. The deaths were in the millions, and counting. In the meantime, The Big One finally occurred. The San Andreas Fault in California broke, resulting in countless deaths, in damage beyond repair. The scientists were baffled by how sudden and close these events had come. Of course, they couldn't know that no human being could have predicted them.
Country-sized hurricanes, hour-lasting acid rains were our everyday, for a whole week. These disasters were only natural in how we name them. We are so focused on trying to find alien life, on trying to communicate with it, that we didn't really stop to think, to wonder what this life would be able to do. They announced themselves the day following a wildfire that burned down the Amazon rainforest. A fleet of warships suddenly appeared all around the globe, in front of our satellites, above our cities.
They were... the "Galactic Saviours", here to free the universe of our threatening, ever-growing existence. We had to "take pride in the fact they came to help regulate us, for so many species never achieved such a high civilisation level on themselves". We quickly understood that if they could manipulate the events which had killed so many of our kind, then we had no chance of defeating them.
They started to release huge quantities of gas over Italy, probably as a beta test to make sure it would work. The whole country trembled, and the whole world with it, as Mount Vesuvius began to wake up. Trapped between two certain deaths, some people chose to stay, to record and broadcast everything. It was breathtaking. The mountain was fuming, its smoke conveniently elevating to the ships emanating the gas. All of a sudden, a loud bang echoed. This was it.
Some were praying, others were crying. I only remember this little girl in the videos. She went to the volcano.
"There is someone there!"
She said, pointing at the mass. She was right. Emerging from the fumes, a man was walking out of the rumbling volcano. As tall as a three-story building, he wielded a flaming hammer, reflecting the might of his burning body. He had an iron ball the size of a car in the other hand. With incredible force, he launched it on one of the ships.
The ball went into the ship as if it was made of butter. After a few seconds, the warship exploded.
"Yes! Yes! That's what I'm talking about!
A tourist nearby simply couldn't retain his joy, when another one approached the giant with more refrain.
"We... We appreciate what you just did, thank you Sir. But... Are you with... Well... Who are you?"
The giant did not move. He opened his mouth, hurling.
"All shall bow before the Gods. I, Hephaistos, hereby declare war unto the enemies of Gaia. Brothers. Sisters. It is time to come back."
The next weeks were full of wonders.
You could see Thor and Gilgamesh battling against a full fleet. You could hear the winds of Eole blow and crush on the ground any opponent fool enough to stand up to the ancient Gods.
The Earth was a literal battlefield.
We were winning, but we were not safe. I was in charge of a harbor for survivors. To get news of the outside world, Hermes himself frequently came to tell us what happened, to let us know that "Gaia" was in good hands. But it all changed on a singular night. The skies were red, orange and green.
When he appeared, Hermes couldn't hide the sadness from his face. He announced that the aliens had called for help. Many, many other species had joined the battle. One of them apparently had a weapon capable of killing any physical being, dismantling its molecules and sending them in a thousand different directions. It was the last time anyone saw him.
The next weeks were full of horrors.
Until today. I was still waiting for Hermes, hoping for the slightest sign of his coming back. When a light turned on, becoming more and more potent. At which point, I had to cover my eyes. It softened a little, and spoke to me. "Do not be afraid; for see, I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people." I clear my hands from my eyes, and looked towards the light.
"I... What?", I mumbled. I could distinguish a tall man, floating in the air.
"You are not to die in this place and time. None of you."
The man had so much light around him, I could barely see his silhouette.
"You..." I felt his look penetrating me. "You have been chosen, to tell of this to your people."
"I...", I started to talk, but stopped.
Something was odd. The man seemed to have something large attached to his back.
"Wait!", I shouted. "Are you..."
"Yes. My name is Gabriel." He started to turn away. "It's time my Master intervened in all this."
And the last days were full of hope.
| Zeus: As everyone may know, we have lost half of us and so we must break down the League of Supernatural Entities into United Entities Divine Force.
Satan: How can this be possible? Gods can't simply be killed?
Athena: Maybe not by directly attacking the gods, but when these aliens attack our followers, so too does the gods strength from these followers vanish. This was how almost all the Hindi gods were eviscerated, the aliens made their first attack on the Indian peninsula, killing almost everyone in a few days.
Satan: Shit!
When Athena, goddess of wisdom of the Greek mythology, announced this to the UEDF, all the gods and entities shifted in their seats with nervous murmurs breaking into the air. Zeus striked down onto his throne with a hit so hard that it cracked a piece of his arm rest chipping off.
Zeus: Quiet down everyone! Squandering in our seats will do nothing. As I and many of us may have noticed, everyday our strength gets weaker and weaker everyday. Right now, the Greek mythology has already suffered loses from the humans naturally losing faith in us, but this alien invasion is making it worse. Right now the strongest gods as well as God himself right now are holding back the invasion as much as they can until we make a plan.
Satan: Wait, Yahweh is still here? Why doesn't he just use his omnipotence to snap these beings away? Thanos-style
Athena: Yahweh does not have domain on objects he did not create. It has come to our knowledge that God was not responsible for the existence of these beings. Besides, right now he is keeping the Earth as intact as possible anyways and has to keep stabilization of the core. This won't last forever the more Christian followers die. Also his son and the warrior known as Gabriel and their army of angels are currently the ones that are physically holding the invasion back from striking Olympus.
Prometheus: Why don't we use Hephaestus's weaponry and equipment to arm the mortals so they don't hopelessly die from these demons?
Zeus: Although I am suspending you from your infinite torture due to dire circumstances, do not dare attempt to take control of this group
Hephaestus: Actually, I do seem to have enough in the barracks to arm many of the mortals
Athena: Then we will take that action, I will have my brother Ares arm and train them, brother...
Ares: Finally I can leave this stupid meeting, I should have been out there the whole time instead of in here
As he says this, he lights up in a fireball and teleports out of the room
Hephaestus: I should probably make sure he grabs the right equipment, some of those weapons are not something humans should be processing, such as my nuclear weaponry
Hephaestus sinks into the ground into dirt as it may appear that he may have gone into his underground workshop that is near the core of the Earth.
Zeus: Speaking of brothers, where are Hades and Poseidon?
Athena: Hades is currently managing the overflow of dead mortals attempting to enter the underworld and Poseidon is currently trying to protect his oceans from the aliens.
Zeus: Fair enough. Everyone, get prepared for battle. Satan, go help Hades out with the over flow
Satan bites into his apple in a pompous way when Zeus said this and says
Satan: Ugh, fine, I guess I'll redirect some people into Hell
Zeus: Good, everyone else, I'll see you at the battlefield | 2018-12-13T09:31:37 | 2018-12-13T09:29:52 | 282 | 40 |
[WP] Invent a religion of your chosing. Write me the most famous section of your holy book.
Make up a religion out of thin air. Write down the most often quoted/theologically meaningful excerpt from your religion's sacred text. think Christianity's John 3:16 or the 23rd Psalm.
Well this became quite popular. I've tried to reply to the most interesting submissions. Initially i wanted to reply to them all but given the number that's a bit tiresome. Thank you all for your great responses. | **Tenet I**
Each day, seek to do something to improve your cognitive wellness.
**Tenet II**
Each day, seek to do something to improve your physical wellness.
**Tenet III**
Seek to know the truth.
**Tenet IV**
Seek to speak the truth.
**Tenet V**
Seek to apply reason to your own behavior. This is wisdom.
**Tenet VI**
Seek to apply reason to your treatment of others. This is justice.
**Tenet VII**
Seek to ensure consistency between your word and your deed. This is integrity.
**Tenet VIII**
Seek to apply force of will to persevere in good things even when your fears urge you to to stop. This is fortitude.
**Tenet IX**
Seek to apply force of will to resist doing harm to yourself or others even when your passions urge you to continue. This is temperance.
**Tenet X**
Seek to leave the world a better place than you found it.
---
**Structure of the Church**
All members of the church are clergy. All members of the church are students. All members of the church seek to improve themselves, their peers, and the world around them.
The ideals of the church are not moral imperatives and should not be used to judge others.
**Design of the Church Facility**
The church facility shall be clean, minimalist, and comfortable. It shall be a place suitable for quiet contemplation.
Each church facility shall include a presentation hall with seating for all parishioners. Each church facility shall include a library with books that can be used to improve cognitive wellness. Each church facility shall include a quiet study room where attendees may read and contemplate.
Each church shall have trained mental health professionals on staff who can offer counseling to church members and who can promote cognitive wellness.
**Theological Precepts**
Reason is the ultimate source of human moral understanding. All reasoning persons are to be treated with courtesy and respect. Theological considerations, by virtue of requiring faith, are largely obscured from the application of reason and beyond the scope of this church. Members are encouraged to seek their own truths, but ideas that cannot be supported with evidence should be viewed with skepticism. | "The Psalm of Hylia"
Three golden triangles created by Goddesses of lore,
Many sought its peace, but others sought war.
Three golden triangles protected by the Hero of Legend,
Defeating the Dark One, as he was destined.
Three golden triangles guarded by seven sages,
Sealed the Sacred Realm for thousands of ages.
Three golden triangles coveted by evil and sin,
Darkness would seek it, but only the Light would win.
Three golden triangles worshiped by all in the Land,
Pray now to the Goddesses, for evil we shall withstand.
| 2014-08-17T16:54:12 | 2014-08-17T16:46:58 | 160 | 28 |
[WP] After witnessing a death, a young girl falls in love with the Grim Reaper. She becomes a serial killer just to see him more often. | ELLIE...
She looked up at me, eyes rimmed in red. For a moment, she was the girl who first saw me again, all those years ago. Then she wiped the tears from her cheeks and forced herself to smile.
"I was worried... I thought maybe you wouldn't..."
ALWAYS, ELLIE. IT'S WHAT I DO.
"I know. I just thought... you might not. Because of me."
I'M SORRY. I KNOW IT'S BEEN... DIFFICULT, FOR YOU.
"Difficult? Yes, that's a good word for it." She smiled; a real smile this time. "At least I made sure that the bitch got what she deserved."
THE BITCH, IN THIS CASE, WAS YOUR MOTHER.
"No! She stopped being my mother when she murdered Dad!"
It was how she'd first seen me: a small girl, sobbing silently as she watched through a crack in the cupboard door while her mother and her uncle - her mother's lover - murdered her father in cold blood, while he was relaxing in a spa pool. Her father was no angel, either - I'd met him often, during the war, as he dispatched the enemies of his country. But to meet him again like that, a survivor of the war, finally come home, only to be murdered by the woman he trusted most of all? It had been disturbing, even to me - and I have literally seen everything. For Ellie; well, her mental state stood as testament to the effect at had on her impressionable young mind.
Ellie had set out on the only logical course of action to her: vengeance. Long, cold, studied vengeance.
She traveled abroad, and studied with foreign masters to learn the art of inflicting pain. She learned the way of the sword, the spear, the bow - any weapon she could carry. She apprenticed under the greatest strategic minds the world had to offer, to add their cool calculus to her plans for retribution.
And all the while, she practiced her bloody work, perfecting her murderous art - saving her masterpiece for the perfect canvas: her mother.
We saw each other a lot during that part of her life.
And for a time, we were... close.
I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT HER, ELLIE. YOU MADE THAT QUITE CLEAR LAST TIME WE SPOKE.
---
That night is still clear to me, even now. Ellie stood, bathed in her mother's blood - and a twisted, broken body at her feet.
"You're here?" Ellie gasped when she recognized me.
YES.
"But... She doesn't deserve it! She doesn't deserve you!"
THIS IS WHAT I DO, ELLIE.
"You know what she did to my father; to me! How can you help her?"
I MUST, ELLIE. IF NOT ME, THEN WHO?
"No one! That's the point! She deserves to suffer!"
SHE HAS, ELLIE. FOR HOURS. YOU HURT HER A LOT.
BUT NO MORE.
NOW, SHE WALKS WITH ME.
"Don't!" Ellie cried, almost pleading. "Don't take her. Please. Let her stay."
"For me."
IT IS HER TIME.
Ellie screamed for a long time; she did not stop until well after I'd faded from view.
---
"I was wrong," Ellie apologized. "I thought... I thought that was what I was meant to do. I thought that was what I wanted."
"In time, I came to realize... I realized that what I wanted? It was you. I love you. I always have."
For a moment, I vividly recalled holding that little girl's hand while her father died.
I'M SORRY, ELLIE. I LOVE YOU. I'VE ALWAYS LOVED YOU. BUT WE CANNOT BE TOGETHER.
"You love me? So then why can't we be together?"
I LOVE ALL HUMANS, ELLIE. YOU MAY NOT HAVE ALWAYS SEEN ME, BUT I WAS WITH YOU, EVERY DAY; EVERY MOMENT; EVERY WAKING BREATH. I NEVER LEFT - I WAS THERE; I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN THERE.
WITH YOU.
WITH EVERYBODY.
AND WHILE I WOULD HAVE ENJOYED BEING WITH YOU LONGER... I motioned to her corpse, lying on the floor between us.
"I did it for you," Ellie answered. "I couldn't live without you! But now, now we can be together!"
YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND, ELLIE. I'M AFRAID IT IS TIME FOR **YOU** TO LEAVE ME.
"But... I don't want to go!" she screamed. "I want to stay here, with you!"
VERY FEW HUMANS EVER WANT TO GO, ELLIE. FOR WHAT IT'S WORTH, I DON'T WANT YOU TO GO EITHER.
AND YET, YOU MUST. THIS PLACE IS FOR THE LIVING. YOU CANNOT STAY.
Reluctantly, I escorted Ellie through the doors on to the black desert under the endless night. | After a while he quit showing up.
She knew he loved her back. She also knew that they could never truly be together, no matter how many people she sent to the reaping.
It had started with those already on their way, she had just given them an extra shove in the right direction. Nursing homes became the setting for their frequent trysts, among the oxygen cylinders and frantic nurses.
Eventually the easy targets weren't enough. He couldn't do it, he said. Protocol and all that. She knew, though, if it was a truly special death, he'd have to come. And she'd make him.
That's when she decided to get creative. It almost became an art form to take a lives. She was like the Bob Ross of murder, sending one soul after the other to be greeted by Death, because everyone needed a friend or twenty.
Finally, he told her that she was disrupting the balance. That he was being forbidden from returning and that all they had together had been a lustful lie. That he would never see her again.
But she knew better.
The first infection wasn't so successful. It had spread well, but the cure was found too quickly. It took years before she had perfected the ultimate virulent bio-weapon. It was transmitted through the air and the water. Every cough and sneeze spread it so efficiently it was nearly impossible not to be exposed. The key, she thought, was the dormancy period. She knew it would spread globally within a month. It wouldn't be until then that the first inkling of a pandemic would be noticed by the global health organizations.
It took a year before 90% of the world's population was dead. They called it the New Black Plague. She called it love.
And she waited for him to appear. She went to every mass grave, hoping she might find him there. But alas, she walked an empty earth seeking a lover that was nothing but a ghost to her, now.
It seemed like she had seen almost every decaying corpse on earth before she finally saw him, standing upon a pile of bodies, his black robes flowing in the wind and the sun glinting from his scythe.
"You came," she whispered, struggling to find her balance upon the summit of the mound of flesh.
"You killed the world, my love. Just for me," he smiled as she came next to him, reaching a skeletal hand up to brush her cheek.
"There's nothing I wouldn't do for us to be together," she said, wrapping her arms around his cloth clad rib cage and squeezing tight enough to hear his bones click in protest.
"I knew the day would come. There is but one thing left for me to do."
She leaned back and looked up into his eye sockets, tears staining her cheeks. "What is that, my love?"
"I must reap the final soul."
He shoved her backwards and reared his scythe, bringing it down in a smooth motion. Her flesh tore beneath its razor edge and she was cleaved in twain, falling into a heap among the pile.
As her astral form rose from the earth, her longing eyes looked down upon Death, her screams unheard as she was hoisted upward by an unseen force.
"Farewell, my love," Death muttered as he shattered into a million pieces, drifting into the wind like so many tar-black ashes.
And then the world was silent.
| 2017-06-07T19:33:48 | 2017-06-07T19:30:33 | 29 | 19 |
[WP] Aliens invade earth. To the surprise of humans, the alien's weaponry is pitifully outdated. | It was a typical summer day in the rural Midwest when the armada touched down in a bright open field just off the single lane highway. One of the quaint power lines was knocked over resulting in a disgruntled old woman calling the county sheriff because she knew no other numbers. It was a slow day for the law as usual in these parts, so around ten minutes ticked by before the sheriff and his deputies pulled up to the scene of the knocked over pole. Deputy Lawrence used an insulated pole from the back of the department's SUV to move the cables off the roadway. Half way through the procedure, the stealth systems disengaged and alien legions began deploying from the ships. The three of them looked up in awe; wide eyes shielded by their mirrored aviators.
"Filth! You have breached our landing zone! As such, you will be the first to die in the on-setting war!" Shouted an alien in regal attire. They were thin and lanky, but certainly numerous. Their attire was ornate flowing cloth and their weapons were shimmering silver with static sparks snapping along their lengths.
"Oh shit!" Deputy Simmons spat. The three of them promptly scampering for cover behind their squad car and SUV.
"Aliens! Are you kidding me?!" Deputy Lawrence shouted in disbelief.
The sheriff rose with his weapon drawn from behind his car leveling it at the invaders.
"Look here. We're not going to stand for an alien invasion. You lot need to pack up and get out of here!" The sheriff rambled. His police training falling short in extra terrestrial diplomacy.
"Just leave!? Slay this savage for his insolence!" The regal alien shouted in anger.
The sheriff was immediately blasted by alien weapon fire. The deputies looked on in horror. The firing subsided and the sheriff stood with his hands covering his face, eyes clenched shut, teeth gritted. He was fine.
The regal one gazed on in confusion.
The sheriff and his deputies shared glances of disbelief before the sheriff fired his revolver into the legion on impulse. The bullet sheered through ranks in a straight line; aliens burst into flames from the heat of the bullet and their less dense bodies shattered. Their physical frames and weapons were no match for that of Boff county's finest. The lone .38 special round tore its way though 16 alien legionaries and set another eight on fire from peripheral flames.
"Whoa." Was all that he could say.
The regal one looked back in horror.
The deputies rose to see what had transpired only to be stricken with further disbelief. They too opened fire. The ranks of the legions were blowing to pieces and bursting into flames on a grans scale.
"Charge! Destroy them at all costs!" The regal one screamed in terror.
The legions stormed the highway taking heavy losses from their charge. Their projectiles bounced harmlessly off the officers with the effect of a BB gun. Once in melee range, the aliens began to savagely bludgeon the sheriff and his deputies. It was to no avail. Deputy Simmons kicked at one knocking it clean in half. At that instant all intensity drained from the situation as the officers realized they were in no real danger. The officers kicked and punched their way through the alien army with ease. Already facing a 60% loss in forces, the regal one called for a retreat. A stray bullet caught one of the ships. The vessel collapsed in ruin pulverizing itself under its own weight. Only a hand full of aliens and their ships survived to retreat from the encounter. The remnants were so frail they had literally turned to ashes, leaving no evidence of their presence. The officers watched as the five remaining ships departed. A bird hit one, dropping it from the sky and disintegrating it and its passengers upon contact with the Earth. The bird recovered mid fall and went back on its way.
"Gah! We had our body cameras turned off! No one is going to believe this!" Deputy Simmons shouted.
"Shit! You're right!" The sheriff replied.
"We stopped an alien invasion and no one will ever know." Deputy Lawrence sighed.
The three of them stood around with their hands on their hips catching their breath for a few minutes in silence.
"Well, lets get that cable off the road." The sheriff said finally. The three of them started walking back to the highway.
"I wonder if that bird is ok." Deputy Simmons said. A minute later a junker of a pick up truck rolled up. A local leaned out the window.
"Everything alright sheriff?" The local asked.
"Yeah, just getting some downed power lines off the road." The sheriff answered.
"All three of you? What a waste of tax dollars." The local grumbled as he pulled his head back in his truck and continued on his way.
"Dick." Deputy Lawrence murmured to the others. | ACTION REPORT
Date: 4301.51.2
Reporting Officer: Flormat Snikker, Tricounsel, Fourth Armada
Subject: Sol 3 Conflict, Withdrawal
Initial skirmishes were wildly successful. The natives were woefully unprepared for combat. After the customary challenges were issued, our champions were sent forth from each ship to do single combat. In most instances, they were able to immediately slaughter the opposing champion. Many natives failed to abide by the Rules of Challenge and engaged our champions in large numbers. Ultimately, surviving champions were called back to their ships to await formal surrender.
No formal surrender was provided. The natives' primitive and incomprehensible communication attempts ceased. Shortly following, they used what we believed to be mining explosives to destroy a number of our ships. Faced with dishonorable betrayal, the full armada was landed and our forces deployed.
Resident xenologist Rather Bellow has suggested that the native population lacks any sense of honorable combat due to a state of near-anarchy that seems to have existed for multiple lifetimes on their planet. Lacking systems of honorable resolution, they developed fearsome weapons which propel metal and explosives over significant distances.
Losses were too severe to fully report in this document. Provided is an account of one engagement:
Wing 5, Division 43 was tasked with capturing a population center and pacifying the locals. 18,000 armored troops were deployed in full close-quarters gear. The division engaged a significantly smaller forced that was entrenched on the outskirts of the population center. A charge was organized. 500 spearmen attempted to advance to within throwing distance. Launched explosives resulted in casualty rates exceeding 80%. The entrenched troops advanced on the division's position and pressed the engagement. Their superior range resulted in a total inability to respond. Any attempt to muster a counteroffensive was obliterated.
When a full retreat was ordered, the division reported an awful truth: they arm their vehicles. Our soldiers were easily able to outpace theirs, but were overtaken by monstrous armored vehicles with devastating weaponry. Division 43 was a near-complete loss.
Even those troops who escaped to carrier ships were not safe. As with their ground vehicles, their aircraft possess fighting capabilities. Carriers were destroyed mid-air.
The armada was forced into total withdrawal of the system when it became apparent that the natives had taken control of multiple carriers and landed them on several launch ships. My Tricounsel counterparts reported fighting on several vessels before going silent.
Total losses are estimated at 5 launch ships and their entire crew and complement, an additional 87 carrier ships and their divisions, and approximately 510,000 soldiers beyond those losses.
Under normal circumstances, custom dictates I give up my life in penance for this failure. I request a deferment to court martial to determine whether the loss is due to the inappropriate warfare as conducted by the natives of Sol 3.
ADDENDUM:
Shortly after transmitting the summary report, long-range scans detected four of the five launch ships on a home-bound trajectory. It is with great relief that I report that our losses might not have been nearly as severe as initially reported. | 2015-04-16T11:40:49 | 2015-04-16T10:56:19 | 261 | 78 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | So you're in line getting tacos, right, like you do every Friday for lunch. It's a beautiful day, the sun is out, not a cloud in the sky. Seventy-five degrees, light breeze, absolute perfection. You order *dos de pollo* in your shitty Spanglish, hand the man three bucks through the dingy frosted window, and pause a moment to breath deep -- that salty, burnt, fatty goodness that smells like angels fuck -- that sulfurous, rotten-egg -- wait, what?
This shit again.
So then you're standing in a circle, alone, with your tool belt, your hard hat, your cell phone, a tamarind soda and absolutely no fucking tacos de pollo with onions and crema. Fuck. This. Shit. You resolve for the umpteenth time to be less good at your job.
*Remember your protocol.*
"Oh, gracious master," you bow, making obeisance before the thin-lipped, bearded asshole standing in front of the circle and the book and the candles looking inordinately pleased with himself. "How may I be of service, most gracious one?"
Sniff sniff. Putrid, acrid. Tallow, not beeswax. A fucking newbie, or worse, a goddamn cheapskate.
**"I am thy master now, demon!"**, thin-lipped shit booms. **"Thou art ensorcled by the hand of Dextrogast the Mighty! First of his name and first among the Leaden Ring!"** Newbie. Fine, whatever.
You remove your hard hat and straighten up. They like it when you remove the hat. Your arms, wide.
*Just roll with the punches, it will all be over soon.*
"I grovel before your magnificence, good Might. To what end my I pledge my service to the ends of the Leaden Ring?"
**"Thou hast been chosen, demon, for a task of great import, one uniquely suited to thy devilry! Thy master the Mighty hath scoured long the Books of Perdition and at last deciphered thy name! I bind thee to my will, Michael Thompson of Airmax Technologies, Rochester, New York, 14623!"**
When will they stop printing the Yellow Pages?
*Just say the words, do the thing. Faster. You might be able to break the bonds of a weaker sorcerer, sure. But if they can bring you in, they can send you back just as easy. Better that way. Let them do the driving. Pay it forward. Go home happy.*
"My will is yours, good Might, your wish my desire with utmost certainty. Pray tell the nature of your need."
Thin-lipped shitfuck draws himself up to his full height, chest swollen with pride. Wonder if you're his first. **"This Infernal Machine was created for my grandsire by thy demon-kin. Its power wavers. Fix it for me, or ne'er be free!"** He's pointing... at a... refrigerator?
Sigh.
*Even wizards make mistakes.*
"Oh, good Might," a deeper bow. "But in this I am unworthy to be your servant."
**"Does thou defy me, demon! My wroth is great and my punishment most -- most severe!"**
"It's just -- you see, good Might, I'm an air conditioner technician. That's a refrigerator. I mean, I can take a look at the wiring diagram and troubleshoot it if the problem is electrical, but if it's mechanical or the coolant you're going to need an actual fridge repair guy with the right stuff to recharge."
Thin-lips falters. **"So... so what am I to do with The Infernal Machine?"**
Sigh. The smoke from the animal-fat candles is burning your nose. "Let me see the pho-- the Book of Perdition you summoned me from." A suspicious look. "I swear upon my name not to leave or break the circle until I have shown you the name of a demon who can fix your Machine."
Gingerly he hands over the book. Flip flip flip. Refrigerator repair. "Do you have a pen?" Blank stare. "Um... charcoal stick? A quill?"
He seems to understand and hands over a well-sharpened number 2 pencil. You circle the name and number of a fridge tech.
"Great. Okay, just summon this guy next time your Infernal Machine needs work. And make sure to do the full summon between 8am and 4pm local time so that you can get all of his equipment in too. He might need some of the big stuff." You offer the book back to the sorcerer.
*Pay it forward.*
"Oh, and try not to summon between 12 and 1 pm local time, okay? I don't know what time zone you're in, and I know the cross-dimensional conversion is kind of hard, but no one likes being summoned on their lunch break."
He takes the book silently, glaring suspiciously.
"Also, uh... this line work is a little shoddy. See the edges of the pentagram bleeding a bit here? I really wouldn't have any difficulty at all breaking out of this summoning, even if I didn't know what I was doing. And a newbie demon getting out of the circle is the last thing you want. Try to keep the lines as clean as possible."
**"Thou came well-recommended, I see, for good reason, demon. You have the thanks of Dextrogast the Mighty."**
"And use beeswax next time, that smell is awful. Are you fully satisfied with your summoning, good Might?"
**"It shall suffice."**
A blink and a stink, and you're back in the real world, the rotten-eggs-stench lingering. Wonder how long that fridge had been out.
In the distance the taco truck rolls out of the parking lot, kicking up dust as it goes.
Typical wizard shit. | "Shit shit shit" I said under my breath as I raced down the sidewalk towards the bus. It was raining and all I could do was hold my unopened umbrella above my head as I ran. It obviously didn't help, so when I finally reached the bus stop panting and ready to fall over I was completely soaked through.
The bus doors were already closing when I reached it, but being desperate I managed to jam my umbrella between the gap in the doors before they closed. The door creaked rather loudly and the driver looked at me as if I were a fucking lunatic. I was still trying to catch my breath and very late so being crazy was the least of my problems.
After a moment the driver grudgingly opened the doors once more. I gave him a small 'thank you' between gasps, but he just glared at me at motioned for me to take my seat.
I sat down next to an elderly man listening to something on an old Walkman. He didn't pay me any attention, but continued to hum what sounded like dream lover.
I pulled off my glasses and began to wipe away the rainwater as I muttered a thanks to whatever god cared enough to receive it for making it on the bus in time. I had only just started my new job and the boss was as stoic as they come, so I really couldn't afford to be late. It hadn't taken long enough to get the damn job, anyway.
Of course I'll probably never be able keep that job now. Not with what happened about five minutes into the bus journey. One minute I was looking out to the passing storefronts with the old man now humming some blues tune and the next I had collapsed onto a hardwood floor in a room where everything was dim and smelled of old books and damp.
Managing to left my head up and put my now bent glasses back on, I saw that I was now in what looked like a attic. There were towers of books everywhere.
Getting myself into a sitting position I noticed I was surrounded by what looked like candles. There were five of them and they were all black and arranged in a circle around me. There were white trails on the floor connecting the candles. It looked like paint and as I inspected the pattern I noticed it formed a star. Frowning I looked up and nearly had a heart attack. There in front of the point of the star stood an old man in what looked like a long and dark robe. He stood perfectly still with a rather heavy looking book held open in front of him in his hands. He was smiling, or rather he was smiling at me. That's when I felt a tendril of fear run up along my spine. I backed away, my heart now begining to beat very quickly as the old man smiled at me. I hit a wall and I couldn't move any further. Looking back I saw there was no wall, but for some reason the area just before the candle was solid and I could not move past it. That's when the old man spoke.
"That's a barrier around you, demon. You cannot move beyond it" he said, his voice deep and grave. He looked pleased with himself. Utterly confused, I gulped and tried to speak.
"Ugh... who..who are you?" I stuttered. I had meant for it to come out more level, but I had so many questions and scenarios running through my head I guess it couldn't be helped.
"I am Lord Alsen Bodyth of the mage council, but you may call me master, demon" he proclaimed, sounding very proud.
I frowned. "De..demon?"
"Yes, but not just any demon. You're my demon" he pointed out, now grinning. That creeped me the fuck out, but all I could do was give a shaky laugh and say
"But... I.. I'm not a... demon" I wasn't entirely sure of what he was talking about, but I didn't liked it.
He gave me an understanding look and a nod "yes, yes, that's what they all say, but believe me demon, demon you are. I would know. I summoned you myself from the hell plain..." He looked down to his book for a moment searching for the name. Then having found it he looked back up and, still smiling, said "... Earth"
| 2017-05-12T08:58:50 | 2017-05-12T07:07:38 | 1,714 | 193 |
[WP] You send your DNA off to discover your ancestry. One day you see several suspicious looking cars pull up outside your house. Military officers begin to surround your home and a woman gets out of one of the cars and walk straight to your front door. They have your DNA results. | *Tap. Tap tap. Tap. Tap tap.*
Her fingernails are trimmed close, nearly to the quick, but she still manages to find the perfect angle with which to click her pointer finger against the smooth metal tabletop. It's like the ticking of a bomb on the verge of exploding.
*Tap. Tap tap. Tap. Tap tap.*
She's been watching me unblinkingly for the past 5 minutes. Waiting for me to crack. For me to spill my secrets and give her what she wants.
For me to tell her what I don't know.
"You seen *Zero Dark Thirty*?" she asks suddenly, finger paused in the air like a cobra poised to strike.
I look up at her, baffled. Behind her, the armed security guard shifts ever so slightly beneath his black armor. "Yes."
Her smile is wickedly innocent. Teeth stark white between full lips. "Its depiction of the CIA was controversial, Nick. You know that, right?" When I say nothing, she tosses the paper airplane she's been folding with her notepaper over my shoulder. "That movie showed the government *torturing* people. Can you imagine?"
Now she's leaning forward, suited elbows flat on the table, red hair splashing down the left side of her face. Her eyes don't leave my face as the paper plane bounces off the wall and slides across the floor. "Blasting metal music. Small boxes. Not really torture, if you ask me. More like persuasion."
Still I say nothing, but there's a trickle of sweat making its way down my back. I wouldn't be surprised if she can smell my fear. I think she's actually enjoying this.
"Needless to say, we're not the CIA. We're not going to try to *persuade* you of anything. No. Persuasion results in voluntary cooperation. If you don't tell me what I need to know, I swear I will personally make you beg to be sent to the ninth circle of hell if it gives a second's reprieve from the agony."
"What do you want?" I finally say, banging the table in desperation. The guard flinches and raises his rifle, but the woman makes a *calm down* gesture and he relaxes.
"I told you what I want, Nick. I want to know where you're from. How you're here."
"I don't even know what you're asking, lady!" I scream. "Who the fuck are you?"
"We're SETI," she says. "And you, my friend, are the first thing we can ever point at and call *proof*." | “It’s been a few months” I thought to myself. I did a DNA test a couple months ago and it still hasn’t came back. I’ve tried contacting customer support for Ancestry23 and every time they just hang up on me.
It’s 3:00 AM. I hear a loud knock on my door. I grab my shotgun and head downstairs. Slowly, I open the door and two men in suits are there. “Sir, we are with the CIA, please put the shotgun down” asked the first man.
I put it down. The second man takes it. “Sir we are here to talk about your DNA results” says the first man.
“My DNA results?”
“Yes we believe the results indicate a threat to national and global security.”
Global? This sounds big.
“Could I get my shotgun back” I asked. “It belonged to my father”. “Funny you mention your father” says the second man. “Your father, is not of this world”. | 2019-08-05T17:40:41 | 2019-08-05T16:17:19 | 171 | 74 |
[WP] You just let a hungry-looking couple into your home to feed them. As you go to turn off the TV, you hear, “under no circumstances should you answer the door today. They are not what they seem. And whatever you do, don’t let them inside...” | "I repeat, do not-" the words never given a chance to finish, as the screen turned to black with a static sound.
"Everything alright, dear?" I heard the old woman call from the dining table.
"Everything is fine." I assured. *Don't panic.* I told myself, as I returned to the kitchen and began preparing a meal.
"Any preferences?" I asked, rummaging through the fridge in search of food to prepare.
"Oh, it's quite alright old sport. Anything that has a little flesh on it we would prefer. But please, we are already humbled by your hospitality. We will make due with whatever you serve." I felt their hushed snickering all the way from the fridge. As if the very breath tickled my neck. I could smell the telling of rotting flesh.
"Great, let’s see what I can do for you." I said, as I turned around with a smile.
"I hope you will forgive our intrusion. George over here can be so forgetful, especially in his old age." She mused.
"Margaret," the old man with white hair and a white mustache pouted. Disapproving of his wife's mockery.
"It is quite alright. It is nice to have company every now and then." I said, giving my best smile.
I cut into the meat, splitting sinew and muscle to provide the perfect cut of meat.
"The way your hands move, boy. You look like you know a thing or two about cooking." The old man looked genuinely impressed.
"I guess you could say that." I spoke while my hands did their work, moving with noticeable alacrity, moving nimbly as if playing notes on a piano. I had heard before that my cooking was like a performance, and they continued on as if carrying a will of their own while I addressed my guests. "I learnt from my father, it was how we bonded."
"Speaking of dear, do you live here alone?" The woman by the name Margaret asked.
I was quiet for a second. *Should I tell them the truth?* I pondered. If they realised I was lying, it would make things even more suspicious.
"Yes. I like my privacy." I finally said begrudgingly.
"Oh, I quite understand. What about a girlfriend?" She asked teasingly, affable mirth marking her lips. Or perhaps that was something else.
I shook my head, "no. I like having girls over now and then, but I find I am too busy to commit to anyone."
"Oh. What a shame, such young meat going to waste." She snickered. Some disgusting primal hunger to it.
I smiled, hoping it didn't look awkward, crooked upon my lips.
I put my worries to rest as the meat was ready and sizzled upon the pan.
The couple were quiet, staring at me while I cooked. Especially the old crone. I could see something vile and ravenous underneath her facade. Her white hair curled, the skin of her cheeks sloping like bags upon her face. How her wet yet shriveled lips snickered with a rising appetite.
"Food's ready." I finally said, bringing the plates before them.
I also prepared tea, offering them to the old couple and drinking some myself.
"This looks lovely deary. I wonder, what will there be for desert?" Again she snickered, throwing me a sardonic wink as wrinkled and old fingers cut into the meat. The way the blade parted the flesh, the way the juices ran like blood onto the white of the plate.
They took their first bite of the meal, and I took a sip of my tea. "This is -" the old man looked shocked.
"Oh? So you can tell?" I smiled, leg crossed over knee. "I figured this would be more to your taste. Does it sate your pallet?" I asked, as the two collapsed to the floor.
"What did you do to us?" The old woman asked alarmed, no longer did she have mirth to her voice.
"Me? Well, I was generous enough to feed you my most prized meat. The best of my dates I would carve up and store. Their flesh supple and tender, preserved perfectly." I leaned in. Even then I would recall the curves of the women who dined with me. Who smiled suggestively. How they unknowingly ate my previous affairs. Their scarlet lips matching the colour of their blood. The way my blade would cut it into them like a steak.
"Or perhaps you are referring to the paralyzing agent that I administered to you."
"You, what are you doing?" The old man asked.
"Oh, nothing that you aren't already aware of."
I grabbed the tray that carried the plates and made my guests face it, confirming their missing reflections. "Vampires, huh? No wonder you needed to be invited in." I threw it aside, gratified by the sound of the tray clattering.
"Now, I wonder how your insides will look?" My smile widened. I could no longer contain it, no longer hold back the manic smile that would come from me when excited.
One would think, the fact that the two were mythical vampires would serve to perturb me. To have me question the possibility. But all I could think was about how I would season them, *maybe cook with some garlic,* I chuckled at the mere thought of it.
My smile was like that of an alley-cat, and the chuckle that of a jester laughing at a twisted joke. I watched the hopeless gravity of the situation settle within their eyes. I watched fear nestle into the very marrow of their bones.
*Tonight, I will feast.*
***
/r/KikiWrites | "Where is the sugar?"
My heart jumped from the couch and landed somewhere distant on the carpet. A curse to god sneaked past as I straightened myself. The man gleaned at me from the kitchen.
"What?" I asked.
"The sugar? Claire hasn't had it in a long time. Was wondering if you had some."
"Top, left most cupboard. I think it's on the right." I started breathing heavy. He didn't seem to mind. The man simply nodded a gentle, homeless smile and dragged himself away.
I had resigned myself at this point to getting these people out of my house. That news report, it had chilled me to the core for some reason. But they were so nice, they seemed so genuine and in need.
But they had to go. For some reason, the thought had made its way into my head that this should be a covert operation. In preparation I rose from my couch and snuck to my kitchen, pasting myself to the walls with glue. I heard them speak.
"He's quite nice." The woman spoke in a muffled voice, the sound of chewing commencing.
"I know, quite the shame." It was like my heart was riled with a bout of tourettes, it flopped its way to the sky again.
"Do we really have to?" She continued, the smacking of her lips grew.
"I mean, it'd be the polite thing to do."
*Polite thing to do?* Murder me in the sanctity of my own home? Their shadows cascaded into my dining room. Yes, MY dining room. I could see the large, sharp utensils stocked in their hands.
"Get out! I swear! Get out of my house!" I jumped into the kitchen, careful to grab the ladle on the counter top. I wielded it like my very own Excalibur, ready to strike down these would be assalients.
The man, and woman both, stared at me in confusion. The butter on their butcher and carving knife slid off. The bagels in their hands seemed to freeze with their expression.
They spoke first.
"What are you doing?" The man asked, dropping the knife to his side.
"What are *you* doing?" I retorted, bringing the ladle to a hold. It shook violently.
"Eating? Isn't that what you invited us in for?"
"I..." I trailed off.
"John I'm scared."
"What's gotten into you man? Why are you swinging a ladle at us?"
"Why do you have have those knives? For buttering a bagel? I think not!" I asked, I felt like I had gotten them. Secured in my victory I tightened on my weapon and my knees got a bit wibbly.
"The rest are dirty. Look." He pointed the knife at my dishwasher, where most of my butter knives sat like little school children, huddled together. "If you want us to leave, we can."
"I-I... I'm sorry."
"Save it." He placed the knife on the counter, raised his hands up like a criminal, just to make me feel that extra pang of guilt. The woman thanked me though, and joined her partner, bagels in tow.
I walked with them to the door and ushered them out, wishing them the best. I turned around, content as the news feed in the living room trailed on.
I never even felt the carving knife pass through the throat. The spurt of thick, red liquid tasted like a dense metallic soup. It sopped into my hands as I felt the pointy object dance and carve. As I collapsed to the floor I listened to the quaint, but proud field reporter spout on.
"The bagel bandits are known to have committed thirteen acts of homicide in the last week, and are still at large... We recommend to not open your door to any suspicious looking couples. No matter how desperate they seem." | 2018-03-14T09:27:18 | 2018-03-14T08:12:12 | 167 | 18 |
[WP] Everyone has a number on their chest showing how many people they will kill in the next month. Yours just changed from 1 to 3 million. | The first thing I did was count them. One, two, three... six. Six zeros. Each one stamped proudly across my chest, starting with a three. Three million? How could this happen?
The number was just a one last night, I remembered seeing it right before bed. It had been that way for two weeks. Even though the number says you killed them, it is more often than not an indirect kill. Cutting someone off in traffic and forcing them to careen off the road, for example. That, and given the job I have, I honestly wasn't too surprised or worried. But now... this changes things.
I slip into the bedroom and change into my suit for work. My wife, bless her heart, is in bed reading. Work had been piling up more than ever, even with the end almost in sight, so it relieved me to see her looking even remotely comfortable. Her hair, originally pure black, had recently started to grey in the roots. I tried not to pick on her for it. I had no room to talk, anyway.
I tried to pretend like everything was normal, but one glance at me and she could tell something was wrong.
"Honey, what's wrong? You look upset. Did I use up all the hot water again?"
For a moment, I imagined telling her. But I stopped myself. There's no point in making her worry; nobody has ever had their mark be incorrect. Ever. Any time in the next three months, three million people would die. And it would be my fault.
"It's nothing, just work," I say simply. She gave me an understanding nod and went back to her book. That was one nice thing about this job: it got her off my case almost every time.
I checked my knot in the mirror and tried to convince myself that nobody could see the three million stamped on my chest underneath my suit. To me, it felt like the numbers were glowing. I left the bedroom and right away, my work day began.
"Morning, Mr. President," said one of my Secret Service agents stationed outside the door. I gave him a curt nod, and he followed me on my way. | A Thursday rain had not been forecast. As I walked out of the local primary school I saw the number on my chest, flicker. One had become 3 million. At that moment, not only did I know that the fad of 21st century fatalism had finally reached its peak, but I knew I shouldn't have voted Brexit.
(Terrible story, but topically relevant I hope) | 2016-06-24T03:35:52 | 2016-06-24T01:32:15 | 461 | 27 |
[WP] After you die, you find out that reincarnation is real, however, there is an error and your memories are still intact upon reincarnation. | I sat on the step up to the worn slide, burying my feet into the sand. This was my usual treatment by my classmates. Being left alone.
Adults had always told me to stop being so weird. That my classmates did not enjoy playing with someone who sounded so old, played so odd games and talked about such strange things.
Of course. I stopped talking ages ago. It did not make anyone wish to play with me anyway.
Being lonely is the worst feeling in the world, but saying it like that makes even the adults look strange at me.
Sometimes I wondered, if I had just imagined it all. But when the memories emerged - especially the ones in the limbo - and got themselves reminded I knew. They where the ones living in lies.
The bell rang. I avoided running. There was something very emotional in running at a bell among other children - something I regret telling them the first week at school. If I wouldn't have, they would not have branded me as a weird.
My seat was furthest back, closest to the door, away from windows. Our teacher, an old lady with a odd smell of coffee and animals, had decided that I should have my seat there. So that I would think about class and not about who ever was walking outside. Furthest back so that other students would not throw things to me or the back of my head.
The old lady was accompanied by a younger adult today, with long, dark curly hair. She looked like someone who would be named Sarah - and something about her made my heart skip a beat - but I were not sure why. The teacher did not immediately introduce her to the class, but as the students started to throw questions all over the place, she nodded at the stranger.
"My name is Miss Robertsson" The young girl announced "I will be here for a while... Helping a bit."
The class said in chorus: "Hi Miss Robertsson" and the lady smiled upon us.
At this point, I new perfectly that I shouldn't do what I was about to do, but my curiosity was unbearable. I flung up my hand. Miss Robertsson looked at me, and our teacher had the exact expression of "please no not let him talk" on her face.
"Is your name Sarah?"
Miss Robertsson continued to look at me as her face went paler.
"Well, Yes, my --"
"Well, Robertsson, could you take Kaleb to the study?" Interrupted the teacher.
"Yes, Mrs Stone" answered Robertsson.
I took my books and accompanied her as I've been told.
The young lady was quiet the whole way to the studyroom. It was obivous that she was stunned.
I did not feel very good at her being distressed. I had to do something.
"Sarah."
"Please, call me Robertsson."
"Miss Robertsson."
"Yes."
"Do you like dogs?"
She chuckled nervously.
"Yes. I do like dogs."
"I figure."
I should have been freaked out, but I was surprisingly calm. I knew that I would be able to trust this woman.
She continued, as she used the spare key to unlock the door into the study: "I've heard that you do like dogs as well"
"Not really"
"You do not?"
I silenced myself. This was not a good introduction. I knew who she was, but she had no idea. Unfortunately, I knew.
We sat in the study for quite a while. She helped me with some math problems, and I obediently did whatever problem she asked me to do.
"... No, not like that. The Four goes above. Here!"
"I see" I smiled.
"But you know what?" She asked carefully. "My parents have a Kennel. Would you like to visit some day?"
I sat silenced. I did not want to go there. It was obviously some therapy bullshit, and I did not want to visit a lot of dogs. Not like that at least. But I would enjoy, and I was a bit shamed of that, spend some time with Robertsson.
She sighed.
"You already got it, do you? What your teacher have told me?"
"Yes."
"I would love to hear it from you as well."
I mustered some brave, but it was meaningless, bravery is something so easy to catch.
"We have met before" I finally said in one breath.
"Is that so? Would you care to explain?"
"I used to be your friend"
She grinned.
"Oh. But you know, I am pretty sure--"
"I used to go with you. Into a forest. And there was this white house. Nobody was with us. We went by bus there, and you used to--" I wanted to say 'break into' but it felt a bit too harsh "--live in that house sometimes. With me. We'd play catch."
"Hm, but you know, the only place that I've been at like that... I were alone. Just me and my--" She stopped grinning and became just as pale as in the classroom.
"I were there." I was about to cry at this point. "Wagging my tail."
She nodded.
We sat there for a long time just staring onto the scribbled table. We could hear the bell call out for lunchbreak far away.
"Sorry for making you this sad."
"I am happy."
"I see. I have nothing left to ask you."
"May I ask you something, Sarah?"
"Yes, you may. Then we go eat."
My tears began to flow, and I sobbed:
"Why did you have to let me die?" | Aristotle believed that the fetus was ensouled after 40 days - for male embryos, that is. Female ones took 90 days. Ha ha, funny, right? The things people used to believe. Stoicism believed the baby was only ensouled at birth, upon exposure to the outside air. Christians, of course, would have you believe that ensoulment happens at conception, never mind that up to half of fertilized eggs spontaneously abort without the woman ever realizing she's pregnant. That's a massacre for you. All these fun facts I used to memorize, pointing out how ludicrous the whole system must have been - they're a cold comfort now that I realize they were right.
Not completely right, of course. Christians don't believe in reincarnation. They don't believe in being on your death bed and waking up and realizing you don't have limbs anymore, that you don't have eyes to open to see the dark. I went sort of mental, in those days. There's been a mistake, I kept telling myself, there's been a mistake, there's been a mistake. Imagine being in a sensory deprivation tank, so utterly alone that you don't realize where you are. Not even the necessary neural development to think thoughts. Just all these memories of a life once lived, superimposed on a bunch of replicating cells. The only sense you have is some faint awareness of yourself, your own mass, dividing and growing larger, larger, larger. Imagine an hour of that, a day of that, a week of that, a month of that, and then distantly realizing that this was going to be a nine month long stretch.
Just abort, I thought to myself a lot in those days. Just spontaneously abort. One of nature's happy little accidents. But that wouldn't be an escape, would it? I've died once before, heck, maybe I've died a hundred times before. I'd just wake up and start all over again.
Bit by bit, there's a heart, a heartbeat. I try to keep time to that - it's fluttering like a fucking rat's - and count to 1,563 before I lose track. It's a game, y'know, if you played games to keep from going mad. I had a name once, I figure. I had a life. I had people who loved me. But it's getting harder and harder to keep track. There's a slow formation of a sense of self. A tail. A mouth. Limbs. The first beginnings of a brain. I learn to move. I flail, I thrash wildly and exhaust myself, trying to escape. Eyes develop behind fused-shut eyelids, and I once again grasp the concept of light.
The understanding makes it worse, the sensory input makes it worse, the gradual connection of synapses drives me insane. This is hell, I think. This is my punishment. This is the wages of my sin. At least God, I think, has a sense of humor. Sure, I think, I'd vote for him. This is the divine irony of the situation: as a undifferentiated cluster of cells, I didn't have the capacity to remind myself who I was. And now that I'm slowly starting to develop the capacity for thought, I've lost those memories to the months and months of darkness. I learn to breathe, and take in my first lungful of fluid. I can't even remember my face.
It's getting tighter, smaller, my world contracting around me. There's a thing that I once wanted called escape, but the precise idea is lost to me now. I'm scared. I'm thrashing. And as the world closes in, a distant thought resurfaces in my mind: nothing has gone wrong. This is how it's supposed to work. This is how we die, and this is how we are all born.
I see light, and feel the first touch of air on my skin, and I begin to scream. | 2016-07-19T04:50:23 | 2016-07-19T03:08:40 | 40 | 18 |
[WP] When you die, you are given the chance to flip a coin. If you call the toss correctly, you are allowed to keep living, while resetting to the age of your choice. You've been doing this for a couple centuries now. Death is starting to get pretty pissed. | Death thumbed through his agenda, humming the latest song by Inertia Heaven, the latest boy band to explode onto the scene in England. It was a pretty short list that evening and almost every single person that met him had either lost their coin toss or bypassed it altogether. People were living longer than ever on Earth, and it seemed those extra long years was changing the way people approached the pact.
Except for one. *That* one.
"For fuck's sake...." Death's words were low as he saw that familiar name.
Henry.
Fucking Henry.
No sooner did he put his agenda down did the double doors fly open, having been kicked open by an elderly gentleman wearing a black tank top and board shorts.
"Death! I've missed you man! It's been, what, eighty years this time?"
"82 years, six months, four days...Henry. Get over here and let's get this shit done."
Henry laughed as he waltzed over to Death's desk, glancing around the huge office that overlooked the heavens.
"I like what you've done in here, Death! I remember last time it was pretty damn dreary in here."
Death rolled his eyes. Henry was his nemesis. This smug fuck came to him in the 16th Century and had been beating the coin toss ever since.
At first, it wasn't bad. He kept getting sent back and becoming famous for different reasons. He was doing good in the world! He went back once as an explorer and made many voyages across the Earth. He was also a big part of the United States forming as a representative. He was a big reason why cars became the rage in the 19th and 20th century!
Of course, he always went back as *Henry.* His ego couldn't drop that. Fucking *Henry* had to be stamped all over history.
Then he got tired of making history. He started doing the darker side of human history like be in a crime family in New York or rob people in Coventry, England.
Now? The asshole uses his prior knowledge to his advantage, gets as rich as he can early on in his life, and lives without rules. This had been going on for over a thousand years and Death was tired of it.
"Yeah, well, when you have a job for eternity, sometimes you need new decorations. I'd put your head over my mantle at this point and nothing would make me happier."
"Come on, Death, now that's just cold. It's not my fault you can't flip a coin once the right way."
Death's eyes narrowed. He wanted nothing more than to take his soul.
"You calling heads again, Henry?"
"You know how much I love heads! Get it? HEADS?"
"For fuck's sake, Henry. You've made that joke every time we've done this since the 16th Century. Let's just do this."
Henry finished laughing before nodding to Death. He flipped the coin in the air.
"HEADS!"
The coin landed on the ground.
*Heads. Because of course it was Heads.*
"Alright, Death! What's that new boy band going on down in England? Yeah, the one that needs a new singer?"
*Fucking hell.* That was all Death could say to himself.
"Inertia Heaven?"
"YEAH! That one. I think you can put me at their age and I'll find my way into that group. Cheers, Death! Don't lose your head over this!"
Death rolled his eyes harder than ever and tapped Henry on the head. He disappeared in a flash and Death walked back around to his chair in his desk. He continued to hum the song from before, praying that ol' Henry didn't pull it off. He loved boy band music, for whatever reason, as he picked up a magazine from London. He thumbed through it, glancing at a picture of his favorite band and suddenly laughing as he realized the lead singer's girlfriend was named Anne.
*That* Anne.
"If only Henry knew...he'd lose his head over it." | "-uck" My last words are finished as I my eyes adjust to the blackness. I sit up and look at Death. He is sitting at a table.
"Oh, it is you again. What is it today?" Death greeted me not with an explanation of the game like he always used to but an apathetic voice.
"I don't know, you can choose." I watch as Death pulls out a chess board and starts to set up a game on it. "A classic."
As I sit down to play, the board orients for me to be white. "Well you did just die" Death is at least courteous. "But don't expect me to go easy"
As I am making my first moves Death asks, "Any ideas for the new life, since you know the trick, I can see what I can do to make the transition easy."
I have tried so many different things. Who knows maybe I will ask to be a grandmaster this time"
"Oh don't ruin a good game for me." Death quips back
"One day I will get you into video games then you will really know what a good game is. Check."
"What? Oh the bishop. And just because I like board games doesn't mean they are bad. Next time we will play Settlers of Catan then you can see how good a board game can be."
"Yeah whatever you say" I roll my eyes at death "also check again."
Death just sighs and tries to focus on the game. But it doesn't matter He is one move from being checkmated.
"Checkmate. My streak continues this is what 24 in a row now?"
"28" Death responds. "I miss the days that we were on an equal level"
"Yeah well better luck next time. Keep practicing." I smile as he tosses me the coin. Our little game is meaningless but since I know his trick we can just keep playing every death of mine.
"Got your age?"
"Let’s go with a whole new life and say birth. Get a new set of adventures." I toss the coin. "until next time, Death." I watch the coin start to bounce around and at the last possible moment say "Edge." Just as I do the coin lands and balances right on the edge and rolls to the corner of the table. Just like every time. The blackness fades and death waves goodbye.
*Edited so that the grammar is actually good. | 2016-09-23T11:29:17 | 2016-09-23T08:35:23 | 92 | 29 |
[WP] You are best friends with Death. Although you don't know this. Every Sunday he has you killed just to talk to you about his week then brings you back to life after. However you never remember the meetings. | "So I'm not allowed to remember anything after this is over?"
"My answer is never going to change. Be grateful your memories come back everytime you see me."
I shrugged and got him a bottle from the fridge. He wedged his boney finger underneath the cap and popped it open. He reached for mine but I had already unscrewed it.
"Twist-top my dude."
He paused and stared at the bottle in my hand. He then took a gulp from his beer. "So how was your week?"
"So...you know that girl at the pet shop?"
"No but you've mentioned her before."
"I asked her out on Tuesday"
"Heyyy thats what im talking about!" His grin was genuine and cheerful.
I took a sip and drummed my fingers against the bottle. "So i went out with her on Wednesday, i took her to the steakhouse."
"That's a nice place, they actually know how to cook their food."
I took a longer sip of beer. "Their steak is delicious. I asked for rare."
"Rare? Thats too much blood."
I laughed. "Oh is that too much for you, Mr. Death?"
"Yea i bet you think that's pretty humerus."
"There's nothing wrong with a grim joke."
"Please, now you're killing *me*." He kept chucking and downed the his beer.
"Aha...we're not funny."
"No we are not."
The distant sound of lawn mowing could be heard through the open window. The neighborhood outside was painted a faint orange as late afternoon set in. It was a beautiful day.
"Well apparently she's vegetarian."
Death nearly choked. "Noooooo. No way. She is not!"
I nodded and took another sip. "She is."
He howled with laughter "Man i am so sorry. You shouldve known that was a risk, she does love animals."
I chuckled and downed the last of my beer. "The look on her face. It was like I had just licked the table."
"Ouch. So no more pet store?"
"Of course. Im going out again with her Monday."
"My boy."
"I'm also getting a cat."
"Well that's better than goldfish." He got up from the recliner and walked into kitchen; I could hear the sound of the fridge being pryed open. "Beer run?"
"Dude *I'm dead*."
"Oh yea sometimes i forget. We'll do a Weekend at Bernie's kind of thing."
"Now THAT was funny."
I wasn't really sure if he was serious, but it sounded fun either way. Death was pretty a pretty chill guy, and it was always fun having him around. You'd think I'd hate the actual dying often part
but in reality I look forward to this all week | The office was solemn again today. I guess we're supposed to be. It's only Wednesday and we just got the news on Monday.
Nobody likes to ever point out what a raging bitch a person was when they die, so we all struggle to find anything positive about Cynthia. Cynthia. What the hell good am I supposed to say about a boss everyone knows what shitty? Just last Friday night, she told us we had to all work through the weekend, two double shifts because it was "our fault her production numbers were low."
I wouldn't have minded, except it made me miss my Sunday nap. I usually have my nap at the same time every Sunday and wake up feeling refreshed and ready for the week. While I worked through my usual nap hours, I felt so off, annoyed, anxious. I was more annoyed at how hot the office was. Cynthia kept turning the thermostat up because she "just couldn't get the chill out of her bones."
I can't say I'm terribly sad she's gone. And I'm trying not to look too pleased that Janet is her replacement. Janet does not believe in working on the weekends, especially Sundays. | 2020-01-31T08:23:34 | 2020-01-31T08:09:36 | 63 | 12 |
[WP] You're a human living with a vampire roommate. It's painfully obvious; he never looks at mirrors, he despises garlic, he never uses silverware, and he always stays in during the day, but his attempts at trying to blend in are far too funny.
EDIT: Thank you, silver gifter! | I watched him as he cooked his steak. The only seasoning I saw that was laid out was black pepper. Curious, very curious. From the table, I couldn’t help but smile. Awkwardly, he did a double take to make sure it was my apparent delight that he saw.
“Y-yes?”
“That steak’s looking a little…bloody.” I couldn’t contain my excitement. Who knew that I would have a vampire for a roommate? Their existence was something you’d only see in movies, and the only people who really believed in them were either in a cult or one of those weirdos on Tumblr that haven’t moved on from high school. Oh, they'd be so envious to be in my position.
“Yeah…because I like my steak rare.” He’s really trying to hide it, but I know his secret. He can’t hide it from me. This is going to be fun.
“Only black pepper? You don’t want to make it more exciting with…salt? Or how about *garlic*?”
“Come on man, you know I have high blood pressure, and garlic makes your breath stink.” Ah, yes, garlic will make your breath smell. What I find odd was that we’ve never went out together ever since we moved in. Why would he be afraid of bad breath if he has no one to impress? He always stays inside. *Curious*.
“Okay, okay, fair enough. Well here’s some *silver*ware.” I grinned. He looked at the cutlery, then to me with disbelief written all over his face.
“…Wait, is that actually silver? Because I have a silver allergy, too… What is this, are you trying to kill me?” Oh, it was so obvious. He looked in the drawer, paused, then closed it without taking anything out. He sat down, and enjoyed every morsel of that cutlet with all its bloodiness. He didn’t even bother cutting it. He just picked it up with his hands and bit at it. That *beast*! I have one more trick up my sleeve, but I’ll let him finish his...*victim*, before I try anything.
“Blah!” I said to him as he walked towards his room.
“Excuse me?” said my roommate.
“I vant to sock your blahd!”
“What is this?”
“You have a bit of rice on your cheek, here, look at this *mirror* and see for yourself!”
“No, thank you.” He avoided looking at it, just as I suspected. I have him now. He averted his eyes almost immediately.
“No, really man, look!” I held it closer to his face.
“NO.” He’s getting worried now, I know it. He brushed it aside. He knows that I know. Oh, this is too good.
“Dude, please, just look at this mirror.”
“Where did you even get that?” He grimaced.
“Does it matter? Okay, I know you’re a vampire, man! I was just having fun, but I want you to know that it’s okay! I think it’s actually cool to have a vampire as a roommate!” His secret’s out. Gosh, this was so much fun, seeing him squirm as I pointed out his secrets.
“Is *that* what this is about?”
“Dude, I totally accept you. You don’t have to hide it! That’s why you don’t eat salt, and especially garlic. That's why you won't touch silver. That’s why we’ve never gone out, especially during the daytime, and that’s why you won’t look in the mirror!”
“Have you ever thought that maybe I just don’t like seeing the person that I see in the mirror? Maybe I don’t go out because I’m not a social person, and I have social anxiety. Maybe I don’t eat or touch that stuff because I will either *die* or I just don’t want to! Did you ever consider getting to know me before you started poking fun at me for my allergies and insecurities?”
“Dude, I–”
“No, clearly you just want to harass me, but I won’t have it.” He stormed into his room and shut the door behind him. I really thought I had it. I was having so much fun putting two-and-two together that I completely forgot he’s a person, too. I stood there, dejected.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
“Finally.” He slumped down in his chair at his desk. “What the hell even was that?” From his mini fridge, he pulled out a bag that read “Whole Blood B.”
“I need to be more careful.” He poked his fangs into the bag and enjoyed its contents with much delight. | I leaned against the bar, the two girls leaning close to hear me. "See that guy? Yeah, the one over there in the red t-shirt." The girls nodded and murmured their ascent. The music boomed around us and other bodies pressed against us ordering drinks from overwhelmed bar tenders.
"You both see that he isn't carrying anything besides a beer, right? Nothing to conceal himself." The girls nodded again. "Okay, I bet you a drink each that neither of you can manage to get a single photo of his face. Take as many photos as you can in 10 minutes."
"Oh my God, that's like the easiest bet ever. What's the catch?"
"No catch." I said. "He doesn't even know about this bet we're making." I check the time in my watch. "Okay, it's 11:26. You have 10 minutes...go!"
Both girls grin, throw back the end of their current drinks, pull out their phones, and run to the dance floor. I make my way to a nearby table and wait, chucking to myself.
Within two minutes, both girls were at the table, shit-eating grins covering their faces. "You owe us drinks!" Says one of the girls as she slides into the booth next to me. "I'll take a vodka sunrise, if you don't mind."
"I do? Really? Let me see your pictures then." The girls all pull up their galleries. Their smug looks all vanish, their mouths drop open in mild astonishment. They start scrolling through their galleries, searching the photos they snapped.
"What the hell?!" One of the girl says. "What the actual fuck?!" She flips her phone around for me to see, and I begin laughing. They trade their phones, scrolling through each other's images. "You've got to be kidding me. Is this like.. a prank or something?!"
"No prank." I say, laughing. His name is Lamar, he's my roommate. And he HATES having his photo taken. In the two years we've lived together, no one has ever managed to get a picture of his face."
Two free drinks later, Lamar and I catch a cab home. "You did the photo bet again didn't you?" He asks. "Who, me?! Never! I would never use your....abilities... to get free drinks out of cute girls!" I put my hand over my heart and pretend to look astonished that he would ever accuse me of such a thing. He shakes his head, but smiles. My phone buzzes a moment later and I pull it up to see a text with an image attached. I show Lamar the picture. "Okay, maybe I did use your abilities to get free drinks. And also a girl's number.!" Lamar laughs and rolls his eyes.
.
Now, don't get me wrong. Larmar was IN almost every photo. Just never his face. Rather, like magic, in every photo where his face would have been visible he held up a cardboard cutout of his face. Like those you see people holding at sporting events. The thing was huge, but Lamar never appeared to be carrying it around. It justed poofed into existence in his hand anytime a camera snapped, and then poofed back out of existence a moment later. No one ever saw the cutout in person. It only showed up in the actual pictures. | 2019-07-20T11:51:01 | 2019-07-20T09:58:26 | 29 | 19 |
[WP] A modern teenager is transported into a fantasy world, where they are forced into a quest with young witches and wizards their age. Fortunately, they've got a backpack full of high-tech gizmos to help them along.
The high-tech gizmos should be limited to things that currently exist. (i.e. the Fontus would work, but star-trek phasers wouldn't make the cut) | I stared at the wizened old man in front of me. I didn't even know how I had gotten here - wherever *here* was. I remembered opening my notebook for Chemistry, only instead of yesterday's notes about covalent bonds there was a bright purple portal that sucked me to friggin' Narnia or whatever.
"A noble quest? Seriously?" I rolled my eyes. "How cliche can you get? Wait, wait, don't tell me, there's an ancient prophecy saying that some unknown hero will come from a far-off land and defeat the ancient evil and bring a new era of peace and prosperity to the land?"
The old man paused with his mouth open for several seconds. Yeah, that confirms that. Stupid prophecies, never liked the things.
"It doesn't matter if there's a prophecy, Taylor!" he finally snapped. "If nothing else, do it for the knowledge that you're helping us, that you're bettering yourself!"
"Blah blah," I said, rolling my eyes again. "Whatever. I'll do it. Now I've seen how these stories work, you've probably got a group to help me already picked out, right?"
"You.... You have helped other lands from evils such as this?" The man laughed with joy. "Then perhaps we have hope after all! Come, come meet your fellow adventurers!"
He grabbed my by the hand, and I almost tripped over my backpack, which I suddenly realized had been dragged through the portal with me by snagging on my leg. I bent down and threw it over my shoulder. It would probably be more comfortable than whatever packs these people had. And besides, my iPod and my Kindle were in there. Wherever the "ancient evil" was, we weren't going to be getting there any time soon, and I had no intention of getting bored.
We reached the back of his cabin and I saw two other children around my own age, sparring. One was a tall handsome boy wearing heavy armor and twirling a sword as though it were a natural extension of his body, and the other was a scrawny girl with long flowing robes who was deflecting his blows using some form of magic. I couldn't help but laugh at the cliche-ness of the whole situation, which drew their attention to us. They approached us, both glancing me over before turning to the old man.
"Is this the best you could bring us?" the boy asked haughtily. "She doesn't look like she could last a minute in a fight!"
"Hush, Thomas," the girl said quietly. "You cannot see her aura as I can. There is something different about her, an aspect to her aura I have never before seen."
"Yeah, yeah, we start off disliking each other until the first accident on our little quest, at which point we realize that everyone needs everyone else and we all hold hands and sing Kumbaya," I muttered. "So what's this quest all about, anyway? 'Ancient evil' doesn't exactly narrow it down. What're we dealing with? World-eating dragon? Immortal demigod? A boy band?"
The old man gestured us to a table, where a map had been laid out. Pointing to a fortress shaped like a skull - I swear, I could not make this up - and said "Here is the stronghold of the Necromancer of Rek'shan. He has held the world in his grip for generations, only pockets of resistance capable of -"
I interrupted him. "... Capable of standing against him, surviving in secret until true heroes can yadda yadda yadda. Great. Does he have a weakness or anything?"
The old man pointed at the boy. "His sword is forged from star-metal, from the star that fell when the Necromancer rose to power. The planets shall align in mere weeks. Should he be stabbed with this sword in this time, he will be defenseless."
Typical.
_____________________
It took us two weeks to get to the fortress. Two weeks of living outside, not even making a fire so as to hide from... whatever they called the legions of doom or whatever, it was awful. There was a part of me that was glad to be about to fight the Necromancer, if only because it meant we would be inside.
"There are three doors, tests, barriers to entry," said Athgar, the witch-girl, as we slowly approached the main gate. "Legend says that the first door is opened by a test of magic, so I'll be the one to do that. The second door is opened by a test of resolve, so that will probably be Thomas. The third door is a test of knowledge, so... We'll see who can deal with that."
"What, you don't think it'll be one test for each of us?" I asked sarcastically.
"Need I remind you of three days ago," asked Thomas, "when you mistook poison elm for maple when relieving yourself? I hardly think you can be counted on for a test of knowledge."
My retort was cut short by movement at the gate. We had arrived, and the test was beginning. Two large gargoyles flanking the gate came to life at our approach. One opened its mouth to speak.
*If ye seek entry, a test you must pass. Only those strong in magic can succeed.*
Agathar stepped forward. "Let my magic be tested!" she said loudly. The second gargoyle responded.
*Make ye a light to shine into my eyes. But be warned: if the light doth enter my brother's eye, ye shall fail.*
Agathar paled. Turning to us, she whispered "Guys.... I don't know if I can do that... They're so close, anything I do to one would be seen by the other... The only option I'm seeing -"
"Oh for crying out loud, get out of the way," I snapped, bending down to dig through my backpack. Why is it that everything you need falls down to the bottom when you need it?
Standing up, I turned to the gargoyles and aimed my laser pointer directly into the statue's eye. Magic, photon receptor, it's all the same deal. The gargoyles stirred, then returned to their positions alongside the gate.
*Your magic is strong. You may pass.*
The gate swung open.
__________________________
"Okay, the test of resolve," said Thomas. "Seems to be something behind this door, can you hear it?"
I could. It was like a faint screaming. Stepping forward, I put my hand flat against the door.
"Definitely a lot of noise in there. You can feel the vibrations."
"The Hall of Wailing!" Agathar exclaimed. "It's full of banshees.... I thought it was a myth! Supposedly they'll only stop their wailing if someone can open the door at the other end of the hall. They usually drive people insane before then though."
"How do we get me through?" Thomas asked.
"Well, in the stories an ancient druid got through by filling his ears with beeswax, but we don't exactly have any of that... We could try making do with cotton, but... Taylor! What are you do- AAAGGGGHHHH!"
I opened the door and slipped through. Apparently the noise was deafening, even outside. I hoped they would be okay, but for the time being I had bigger things to worry about.
The hall was bigger than I had expected. Must have been two football fields across. Above me I could see the spectral banshees, mouths agape, screaming endless screams. When I finally reached the opposite side and threw open the door, they and their screams vanished into nothingness.
I turned and began to walk back, but my companions were already entering. Apparently their hearing wasn't gone permanently, that was good. I leaned against the doorway and waited for them to reach me.
"By the gods, what were you thinking?" Agathar shouted at me. "You could have been killed!"
"More importantly," said Thomas slowly, "how didn't you?"
I pulled my headphones out of my ears, and reaching into my pocket, turned off my iPod.
"I went through a Scene phase when I was younger. Never cleared this thing off. So I threw on some Evanescence. I figured if you're already listening to one wailing banshee, what're a few more?" | Billy was on foot, waiting for a red light to turn green on the corner of Lincoln and 3rd, when a pit of fire opened
under his feet and swallowed his body whole.
That's how this whole thing *started* for Billy. So you can imagine.
He fell for miles and miles down a steep, toboggan-like tunnel, watching dark figures of fire and light flashing in
front of his eyes in fast, spasming images as he descended. Thunder, monstrous roars, claws and beasts shaped like giant bears and dragons. The whole deal.
Finally, his feet hit the ground, and then the rest of his body hit the ground, and he rolled over and he got up, dusted himself off and looked around.
"God fucking damn it, first that asshole Mr. Trigger gives me a week's worth of detention because of that *bitch* Janice Wellington, and now what? Did I fall into hell?"
He didn't *really* think he had fallen into hell, of course. It was probably a delayed effect of the acid he and Sam had stolen from Sam's brother and dropped behind the water tower.
Then he remembered: didn't Sam's brother laugh at them, later that day, and told them the 'acid' was just confetti dipped in detergent?
"Holy shit, am I really in hell?" Billy asked, now looking around with more attention. He was in a wide,
cavernous-style room lit by torches encrusted on the circular walls all around. Looking up, Billy didn't see any ceiling or exit – the darkness just kept on going upwards, seemingly to no end.
He scratched his head. I mean, he was a bad kid, he knew it. Every teacher said so. Hell, his own mother had once told him, upon finding out he had draped the whole house in plastic bubble and played 'madhouse' with his friends, that he was the worst thing that had ever happened to her life since his father. It got so bad he once actually found, in his mother's search history, the term: *'Abortion after birth legal?'*
So there was that.
But come on! He didn't deserve to go to hell! At least not yet! The Devil should at least wait until the naughty kids die to snatch their souls, right?
Billy was in the middle of pondering all these variables when a jolt of energy blasted from the darkness above, and
then another and then another. Where they had hit, on the ground, three figures now stood – two boys and one
girl, all in their early teens.
"Oh, cool, you guys were sent to hell too," Billy tried. "What did you –"
He shut up then, because one of the boys pulled his hand backwards and, in God-damned Hadouken style, blasted the other boy with a beam of fire. The other boy crossed his arms and shielded himself from the stream of flames, his body pushing backwards as his feet tried to hold on against the rocky ground.
"It's not working, Paz!" The girl screamed. "We gotta try some --- who the fuck are you?" She stopped her eyes on Billy.
"I'm fucking Billy," Billy said. "Why the fuck does your friend has fire coming out of his –"
"Get down!"
Billy looked just in time to see the fire ball glowing and spinning fast in his direction. He ducked, and the ball exploded against the faraway wall with a bang. The boy who threw it was now towering eight feet high, and was
no longer a boy, but rather a big bulky red demon-like creature, with horns and shit. Like if someone painted Dwayne Johnson red. And gave him horns. And a demonic face. And added another feet to his height.
This dude was big, is the point.
"He's too strong!" The boy who was still a boy cried. "We can't defeat him, Lilith!"
The creature turned to the girl and took a wall-rattling step towards her.
"Wait. You guys wanna blow this dude up?" Billy asked, frowning and pointing at the creature.
"He's one of the most powerful demons of the Lower Levels!" The girl yelled, stepping back as the creature headed
towards her. "He's too strong! He blocks every one of our powers!"
Billy took a step forward. He pulled his backpack upfront to his chest, fished inside and grabbed what he was looking for. "Hey! Hey, Meatball dude!"
The demon turned back. It let out a low grunt, and smoke oozed from its nostrils.
"Know that this is?" Billy asked, holding the cylinder in his hand. "Banned in forty seven states. Strongest shit
ever. We buy it every fourth of July with fake IDs."
The demon stepped towards Billy, a mix of anger and confusion in its face. It lowered its head. Then it opened its mouth wide and growled a deep, terrifying growl.
And Billy took the chance. He fished into his pockets for his lighter, lit the Komodo Blast 5000, the most powerful
single-explosion firework in the world (incidentally, the same one Billy had used in fourth grade to divert attention
from Mr. Thompson while Sam stole the answer sheet for the upcoming Math test from his office) and threw it straight into the demon's mouth.
The demon closed its jaw and looked confused for a second. Billy looked past the demon at the boy and girl
behind.
"If I was you I'd cover my ears right about –" BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!
Billy was thrown from his feet. When he came to his senses, he got up and scanned the place. On the opposite side of the room, the boy and girl were also getting up, dazed and charcoal-covered.
"I mean it's strong, but it's not supposed to be *that* strong," Billy said, impressed. In front of him, what once was the red meatball demon was now a puddle of blood and fire.
The girl took fast steps towards Billy and stopped, a mesmerized look on her face. "You just took down the Fire
Demon of the Lower Levels," she whispered. "How the hell did you do that?"
Billy shrugged. "You should have seen what I did with the second floor toilet back in my school."
______________________
*Thanks for reading!*
*You should also check out [Lilith](https://www.reddit.com/r/psycho_alpaca/comments/4l2hw8/read_lilith_from_the_top_over_here/), the novel I've been working on set in the same universe of this story. It follows an older Lilith (daughter of Satan and the girl featured in this story) navigating an exchange program on Earth as a freshman student at UCLA. And fighting demons. That too.* | 2016-05-25T15:56:03 | 2016-05-25T14:55:29 | 1,177 | 310 |
[WP] You are homeless. Begging on the street one day a man comes up to you, hands you a briefcase, and says "There is 5 million in cash in here, have a good life" | "Wait, what? Why are you giving me this?" Was the first question out of my mouth. I was grateful, sure, but why me? Why 5 million pounds? What did I do to deserve it?
"So you can enjoy your life. Listen, friend. I have much more than this. I know of luxury and happiness. You? As I can see here, you're homeless. You likely don't know what the comfort of wealth is. You probably haven't experienced what it's like to be free to do what you want. That is what I am giving this to you for now." Replied the man.
He looked old, but respected. He had a very defined face, with a sharp look to him, but his soft gaze showing that he has seen his own share of hardship like myself. His hair was the same shade of a silver white like mine, but obviously was much cleaner and groomed, a stark contrast to my shaggy and dirty mane. He had small imperfections of his skin, wrinkles that could tell a thousand stories, a small scar above the upper lip. Barely noticeable, but holding its own secrets. Whoever this man was, he had seen both comfort and misery, and so I had to ask.
"Mister... You have a small scar on your face. Your face shows that you have been hurt, and you look like you've seen lots of hardship yourself. So what is it that makes you want to help me, someone who only knows pain and having to fight for rotten food? Someone who is worried they would freeze by morning, every night? Why me, when there are those that could make better use of this wonderful gift?"
"Hm... Because I have been hurt just like you. Not many would notice my scar. Even less ask why. And yet, here you are, doing both," he replied, somewhat relieved, "Very well. It's best I tell my story."
He then motioned for me to walk with him, as he would explain along the way. He told me how he had been homeless too, and had been through much more than what anyone would normally go through. He was homeless like myself, and it got to a point of having to break into people's homes to get food, to stealing from clothing stores just to have something to keep him from freezing. To the point where he had to start hunting the sewer rats just to have something to eat when he needed it. The disgusted faces of the people around us were ignored by this man however, and I understood the pain he was going through. I was the only one able to sympathise with him, because I had almost done the same.
He explained that he was saved in the same way as I, and wanted to help continue the cycle. With his business being very successful, he could make this money back easily, but that he always wanted to pass on his money to someone who needed it. Although I could use the money for anything, he advised me to use my money to re-educate myself, and to get myself basic accommodation. To start with a basic job and develop the needed skills to survive. From there I can focus more on my happiness as I would have the safety to do so.
If I did all this, and if the fates allowed, he told me that we would meet again, and we would be able to one day tell our tales once more. Then, he left, and although I chased after him, he was already gone and lost to the crowd that we walked through.
Whoever that man was, I will honour him and help out the next person that needs it, when I too am in a position of wealth and happiness.
^(*If you enjoyed that, be sure to check out my subreddit, r/MitsTriesWriting!*) | Have a good life he had said. The words rang loudly in my ears, causing a confused trance like state. Shaking my head to break it, I glanced down at the briefcase the man had thrust into my lap, then up to his retreating back, but it was gone.
Once more on the briefcase, my eyes slowly took in the exquisite leather body, the golden combination dials, and the large sturdy handle. I realised I was holding my breath. I honestly didn't think it would be true, but there was always a possibly right?
Popping the locks open on the first try, I slowly peeked inside, and instantly slammed it shut.
"That was a whole lotta hundreds" I said to no one.
Could I go to the bank with this? No. That's stupid. They'd claim I stole it. So that meant, I had to launder it.
Sitting there, on the cold sidewalk, clutching my new briefcase, I began to hatch a plan. What's the one profession where you can have large anonymous payments and no one bats an eye. An artist.
As an artist I could "sell" a painting for any amount. It was perfect. This could work! I felt myself getting excited. My life was going to change for the better. I was lost in a sea of bliss imaging surging my new found millions. That's probably why I didn't notice the man reappear.
"Hey kid, so it turns out the doctor mixed up my file, and it turns out I don't have cancer. Great news right?" He beamed. "So I'm gonna need the briefcase back".
I looked down at the briefcase once more clutching it tighter, then moved my eyes slowly up to his, just in time to see a fist fill my vision.
I woke up soon after, with the briefcase, and the man, gone. Well I guess there was nothing left to do but look on the bright side. Millionaire to homeless in less than a second? That's gotta be a new record. | 2018-02-08T05:14:43 | 2018-02-08T04:59:25 | 40 | 14 |
[WP] You gained immortality by absorbing thousands of souls. They have gotten used to it and act like Twitch chat watching a livestream of your life. | "Hey--"
"No," she said, not even looking up from her book.
>Can we get an F in the soulscape?
>
>F
>
>F
>
>F
>
>What the fuck does F mean?
>
>Tap into the hivemind loser
"Sorry, I just wanted to ask if you knew where the library was. I'm meeting a friend there."
>I'm new, are we actually meeting someone?
>
>No
>
>I have all the friends I need right here
>
>Gay
>
>Imagine being over 1200 years old and still having negative game
>
>Spent most of that sleeping I think
>
>The days of axe murder are over, now begins the days of awkward pick-ups
The girl looked up. "Dude, the library is literally ten miles away."
"I like walking."
>FUCKING WHAT
>
>I LIKE WALKING
>
>I, too, used to like walking.
>
>Waddling, you mean
>
>He used to be fat?
>
>We gained fifty pounds eating his soul alone
>
>It took so long to walk off
The girl burst out laughing.
The host's expression was frozen on an awkward smile. He finally sighed and asked, "Do you want to get coffee sometime?"
>The balls on this man
>
>The bravery
>
>The sheer audacity
>
>As a woman, I want to die again
>
>There was a woman watching this? Oh no
>
>Big yikes
>
>Also a woman. Can confirm, I want to die again
>
>There are dozens of us. Dozens!
"Sure, I guess," the girl said, settling for a moment before laughing a little more.
"I know a pretty good place a block from here if you have time now."
"Okay. Let's go," she said, getting up from the bench.
>WHAT THE FUCK HOW
>
>THE GOD
>
>Such bullshit
>
>I am literally returning to the aether as we speak
>
>Take me with you
>
>Ladies, can y'all explain what just happened?
>
>I DON'T KNOW EITHER
>
>I mean we can ask once she gets here, right? | And a grand council is formed. Each soul becomes a representative. Each representative has an un-silenced voice. Each voice is another vote for every action.
With each passing moment, time becomes less an essence of passing, and becomes yet, a virtually endless sense of, “now.” Phases linked inextricably by fate, exist in tandem, yet preserved.
Thoughts, ideas, become more permanent than stone.
Who could say whether this was a blessing or a curse. With each step towards omniscience, the path stretches out by exponents of infinity. After so many, time means nothing, only experiences.
Imagine a single soul capable of listening to all those who have died, and still be capable of their own thoughts?
Imagine someone that would event want to.
Imagine, rather, that collection being a currency in the cosmic realm, that to carry the essence of your fallen enemies to the afterlife to buy position and merit.
Imagine instead, that instead of a prize, the end result is simply the realization that you may only kill facets of yourself, and that they never truly die.
Imagine the inconstancy if simultaneously having thousands of perspectives on every subject?
How... inconvenient. Indeed. | 2020-09-26T17:26:28 | 2020-09-26T15:47:06 | 4,253 | 102 |
[WP] You have died, after the whitelight, you see a title screen, with the options of New Game.... Load Game.... and Quit Game.
Feel free to bend this any direction you may please. | I laughed bitterly as I saw the large screen flickering before me.
So that's all my life had been in the grand scheme of things. A game. A bloody game.
I thought back to everything that had happened back when I was alive. At the time my life had seemed far more important than a game. It was a gift that was constantly fleeting. I had never known exactly when it would end, until the moment that I actually died. The moment I had taken my last breath.
The only solace I had taken was that even in death, my choices would be permanent. The mark I left on people, on society was there to stay. Even in death, my decisions would carry on.
Seeing this screen shattered all of that. If I chose, I could redo my life from the beginning, play the game all over again. I could even just go back, and fix a major mistake I had made in my life. These were things many people dreamed for. Second chances.
I wasn't one of them. Every decision I had made for better or worse defined who I was. In my mind those decisions were permanent, and I wouldn't change that for the world, even if that meant a second chance at life.
As I looked at the screened I realized that there was only one option left.
Quit Game.
What would happen then? I thought. Would I just fade away into nothingness or was there an afterlife of some sort? As I sat there trying to process this, another thought hit me. Probably the most disturbing one of all.
If my life had been a game, then how many of the people in my life were NPC's? How many of them were actually players?
I thought back to my wife that I had left behind. Would she see this screen when she died? Or was she just something the game had manufactured for me. And what about the friends that had fought alongside me?
Some had given their lives to save me, and in the end I had passed along a similar favor. Did I die protecting an NPC?
As I sat their asking myself all these questions, I realized I didn't care. Everyone important in my life, everyone who had influenced me could have been another player or just something manufactured by the game.
However, how I'd felt about them was most definitely real. Those relationships were real, and I realized that was all I cared about.
I glanced at the screen and scoffed. If the creator of the game had made my life out to be a game, I wouldn't play anymore. I made my decision.
I sat down on the floor and continued to look up at the screen.
"I'm not choosing an option. I'm going to sit here and continue to wait until I can speak with you.", I said addressing god, or whatever else you wanted to call the creator of the game.
I waited for what could have been hours or days. I didn't know, time just ran together as I sat and waited not moving a muscle continuing to look up at the screen.
After what could have been an eternity I noticed light flood in behind me as a door opened.
"Alright you've caught my attention." the voice behind me said. "What did you want to talk about?"
Without turning around I started to speak. "I don't know who you are, or what exactly is going on here, but I'm done playing your game."
"Alright then just hit Quit Game." The voice replied calmly. "Is that really all you called me here to say? I had expected something more interesting."
"No I don't think you understand." I said. "When I said I'm not play your game, I didn't mean I was quitting. I meant that I'm simply not going to pick an option."
"Ah I see, you're one of those then. Alright come with me." The voice said sounding slightly amused.
I stood up slowly and looked at the screen one last time. Then I turned towards the door and followed the voice.
Right before I stepped outside, I heard the voice say one last thing.
"You made a good decision in there. Well played." | Death smelled. It smelled of bleach and piss, but I couldn't help the latter. After all my mind was barely there anymore, and neither was I. I checked my peripherals once again, but I knew no one would be there. Since the landlord called 911 because of my moaning and shouting, I haven't seen anyone other than the nurses. I couldn't have helped that. Everything hurt. It dug the screams out of somewhere deep inside.
Apparently I had a heart attack, and the fall broke almost a dozen of my brittle bones. No one had cared before the hospital, and the clutches of death didn't change what I had done to the family. I had left them when they needed me. I drank and drank until my daughters and wife wanted their skin to be porcelain once more, and not wrought with my drunken rage. They didn't need that anymore, and I understood. They needed a husband and a father. I wasn't either of those. Well, I was, but the shittiest kind. Knowing those things didn't mean sitting in this room, only accompanied by the silence, didn't hurt. I just wanted it to end.
So it did.
It was all white. White was a color that always soothed me in my old age, it kept the bottle out of my hands. But I didn't feel old anymore. I felt... Timeless. I was nothing but I was everything too. I was no longer human. I was no longer myself. I just was.
I was being tugged, more so coaxed, towards the single fixture in the endless white. It was an arcade system. Quite odd really. I had loved them as a kid. Across the screen only said two words, their black, bolded scrawling leaving an air of finality.
"GAME OVER"
So this is the end? Who was right in their scriptures and prophecies? Who gets the props for their preaching and beliefs? I was distraught. Where is my god? I willed the screen to change, to give me something more than this emptiness.
It did. The screen changed to an all too familiar one. It gave me a few options. But I already knew which one I was going to pick.
"NEW GAME"
I could fix my life. I could be good to my wife, I could love and care for my children. I just knew that I was being given the choice to live once again.
So I did.
| 2014-06-19T19:56:46 | 2014-06-19T18:37:33 | 35 | 10 |
[WP] You lived a quiet life, and in passing Death comes to collect your soul, but Death seems afraid of you. | **I** could feel the hot asphalt begin to cook the flesh of my back. My blood painted on the street, cooking, stinking, darkening into a gelatinous pie. A pie in the shape of a bus's tire tracks. A crowd cluttered around the scene, including news teams, emergency personnel, and nosy civilians. The EMT's felt my wrist, then my chest. They pronounced me dead.
Except, the EMT's weren't the ones to pronounce me dead. That was the job of another. I saw him too among the crowd, standing off to the side. No one else seemed to notice him, although they formed ring of space to avoid him. Perhaps they could sense his presence. A hooded figure, not approaching, no, he just stood and watched.
*Take me,* I thought. *I'm finished.* He did not respond. Not even his robe swayed in the wind.
I gazed past the shade of his hood and saw his eyes, or his holes, rather. There was something in those holes. I looked into them and saw through the emptiness. I saw something... afraid.
How could Death be afraid? Death is soulless, empty. Except, somehow I could see something in there. Something I could almost reach in and snatch.
He knew I could see him. Not just that I could see him. After all, anyone could see him here at the end. No, I could *really* see him, and he knew that. I didn't know what this meant at first.
*Take me now,* I said.
*I cannot,* he replied. *You are above me.*
In a blink, he was gone. He fled. Vanished into thin air. Actually, the air was rather thick. It was a humid day.
I emerged from the hot street, leaving my rotting body behind. Death is a skeleton for humans because a skeleton is deep inside, something that nobody can see. Over time, Death decays the human until the skeleton can be seen by all. What is deep inside Death? What am I? A soul, an intangible spirit, shrouded by darkness.
| "Er, Hi.. I'm, um, 'Death.' You... probably think that's a corny name..."
"Are you *the* death? Come to collect my soul?"
"Yes, I... I guess you could say that. Heh..."
"If you don't mind my saying so, you seem afraid of me."
"WELL TOTELLYOUTHETRUTH... um... maybe I am, a little..."
"Buy why? I've lived a quiet life."
"I just don't know how to talk to girls..."
THE END JUST PRETEND SHE'S YOUR SISTER | 2015-04-02T16:44:00 | 2015-04-02T15:38:14 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "That was..." Brawg began, staggering over the bodies of the fallen goblins, his boots squelching in the treacle-like blood.
"Far too..." said Vesperr, returning her bow to her back, and beginning to pluck out arrows from the deceased enemies.
"Oxyrin!" finished Oxyrin, his pointed hat falling over his eyes once again. Dribble oozed down from his mouth and his pupils spun this way and that, as if two compasses confused by magnets.
Brawg and Vesperr looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. Brawg brought a thunderous hand down on the wizard's back. "Don't ever change, Oxyrin!" he said.
"Oh, Oxyrin," grinned Vesperr, "you're the reason we do this, you know? For that smile on your face." She wiped away a the spittle from his lips, then shook her finger, sending the spit plopping onto the ground.
"Oxyrin!" Oxyrin repeated. A pointed tongue darted out of his mouth and latched onto a fly that was hovering over a brutalised body below.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't just see that," said Brawg with a wink. "Okay gang, I'd say we're all done here. I believe its time to go collect our reward."
"Not so fast, my friends," came a mysterious voice from behind them. Only, when they turned, there was *nothing* behind them.
Slowly, the blue-robed wizard hazed into existence. "It is I, the *real* Oxyrin! I have been trapped for the longest time, but I have finally outsmarted my captors and have returned to my friends. For no one is as clever as the Great Oxyrin!"
Brawg and Vesperr glanced at each other, then let out a joint gasp.
"Quite you might gasp," said Oxyrin, as he turned and pointed an accusing finger at the other blue wizard, who was now on all fours chasing after a spider. "For that fellow, has fooled you, my dear friends. But he is nothing more than an impostor! A Doppelganger! A fake, a fraud, and dare I say it, a phoney."
Brawg nudged Vesperr and they both gasped again.
"How.. erm, how can we believe you?" asked Vesperr, her top lip wet with nervous sweat. "How do we know he--"she pointed to the to the wizard, who was now chewing on something--"isn't the real Oxyrin. After all, he would have had to fool us both for two entire years."
Oxyrin rolled his eyes. "Hardly a challenging task. You two never were the"--his hands burst into blue flames--"brightest sparks. Ha. Hahaha."
Brawg's muscles tensed. Vesperr put a hand against his chest.
"That's not proof enough. For our Oxyrin can also do such petty parlour tricks."
"Very well," Oxyrin sighed, "I shall prove it. We shall have a wizard-off."
"Smart," said Vesperr. She let out a high pitched whistle, at which the other Oxyrin came bounding over to her.
"Oxyrin!" he sputtered as he arrived.
"Is that all he can say? How could you *possibly* believe he was me?"
"Good point," said Brawg. "His vocabulary is much larger."
"Oh. You made a joke. How very amusing."
"Okay," said Vesperr. "Round one of the wizard-off. *Shape-shifting.*"
"What? What a stupid round," complained Oxyrin, "for sniffing out a shape-shifter!" His face was red and a vein popped out of his forehead, pulsating like waves on the ocean. "Unbelievable idiocy. How you have possibly survived this long without me to guide you -- heaven only knows!"
"Oxyrin!" replied the other Oxyrin.
"Well, if you can't do it and he can..." said Brawg shrugging, "then I guess we know who the real wizard is."
"Oh... *pish!* Very well. And what must we change into, pray tell?"
"Something very small. To really challenge your morphitisation skills. A fly. Simple. First one to transform into a fly wins."
"Sala kazoo, Sala kazam!" shouted Oxyrin. There was a puff of smoke that left Vesperr and Brawg coughing. As it cleared, and only for the briefest moment, they saw a fly. Then, they saw a huge, pointed tongue. Finally, they saw an Oxyrin chewing on and then swallowing *something*.
"Oxyrin!" he shouted triumphantly, as Brawg and Vesperr collapsed into a fit of laughter.
"Oh Oxyrin," said Brawg, slapping him on the back "you really are too much."
"And," said Vesperr, "we wouldn't have it any other way!"
| "GREETINGS FELLOW ADVENTURING HUMANS!" Boomed the voice of Danny the Elf sat bolt upright from the sleeping cloth sack she had been in, causing Bob the Barbarian to grunt and curl up under his animal hide sleeping rug again.
"IT IS I, YOUR GOOD FRIEND DAN, I AM UNHARMED AFTER MY ENCOUNTER WITH THE DAEMON!" She continued smiling oddly, her mouth breaking into a wide grin with teeth and her eyebrows actually elevating.
"Dann...." Feldspar the half-elf warlock managed to stop himself from saying Danny, "You told us this before, remember?"
Danny the Elf blinked, everything was always so terribly confusing, having come from a dimension that didn't have time it had to learn about things happening and things that had happened, Makor the Cleric had helped with that, teaching the snow elf about how things happen and can't be changed but things that haven't happened yet can be altered.
"OH YES FRIEND!" Danny laughed as if it was a running joke, Sim the halfling thief/bard laughed a little as well in sympathy or perhaps enjoyment.
"WHERE ARE WE GOING TODAY? WILL THERE BE MORE EXCELLENT FERMENTED YEAST PRODUCTS TO CONSUME?"
Makor nodded slowly, "That's right Dan, more beer at the end of the adventure, now how did we get back the entrance avoiding the dragon, getting the treasure and nobody getting hurt?"
"OF COURSE FRIEND! THIS IS A THING THAT HAPPENED ALREADY AFTER ALL!" Danny confirmed with the group as each of them nodded in agreement pressing in to listen carefully to Danny.
"FIRSTLY, WE LEFT THE ROOM BY THE SOUTH ENTRANCE, SIM DISABLED THE PIT TRAP AFTER FALLING INTO IT AND DYING THE FIRST TIME HE TRIED." Danny started to explain.
Sim frowned a little looking towards the South entrance, he'd died; again, if 'Dan' hadn't told him about the pit trap or the acid or the undercooked chicken or ... he was incredibly glad that 'Dan' had changed so dramatically since that encounter with the demon.
"THE TREASURE IS MOSTLY CURSED AND FELDSPAR CHANGED INTO A SHEEP WHEN HE PICKED UP A STAFF THEN A STATUE AS HE TOUCHED THE CURSED DIAMOND AS LARGE AS HIS FIST AND THEN WAS KILLED AS HE PICKED UP A CROWN." Danny continued as Feldspar took careful notes, the warlock couldn't remember the last time he'd bothered to cast identification or detect item status.
Feldspar liked whatever was living inside Danny, even when the party wasn't using it as a cheap way to complete adventures the Elf was nicer, kinder and fun to listen to, with her soft voice always shouting it was hard not to giggle at her.
"THEN AS WE LEAVE THE REAL MAKOR ATTACKS THE FAKE ONE CURRENTLY TRAVELLING WITH US AND IS EASILY DEFEATED." Danny concluded smiling proudly.
Makor looked around the group as for a moment he was sure that his plan had been ruined, they must know, it was just said aloud.
Sim however was fiddling with his lock picks, clearly fully distracted, Feldspar was already in a meditative trance memorising spells.
Bob smiled widely at Makor and Danny before speaking in his native tongue, "What did she say then? Sounded like bad news for you, Feldspar and Sim..."
Makor nodded with a rush of relief as Bob wondered how many more times he could possibly pass that particular lie your face off check. | 2017-09-15T08:01:38 | 2017-09-15T06:12:39 | 975 | 75 |
[WP] You are trapped in a small, windowless room with nothing but a computer with a text editor. When you type in a word, the object appears in the room. However, there's a catch: the only keys on the keyboard are in the first half of the alphabet (A - M). | How odd.
A computer that summons what you wish?
Too bad it only has... 13 letters.
I sat there tinkering with it for god knows how long; hours passed, and I only noticed when my stomach let out a mighty roar.
Yeesh, I forgot about food. What could I summon with this?
Fish? No, there's no S here. Water? No letter W.
Well shit, I'm going to die of starvation *and* dehydration here.
As I sat there contemplating my demise, going over a list of foods and drinks in my head. It hit me.
Milk! It has water and protein in it!
I sprinted over to the computer and started typing it in. Immediately, a jug of milk plopped on the ground .
With that crisis over, I started to work on a way to get out.
Escape won't work, and key won't either.
As I pondered my escape, I noticed that the computer was running Windows 10 and I got an idea.
I started typing microphone, but I soon realized that it wouldn't work. As I started to lament, a microphone dropped from the ceiling.
Confused, I looked back at the text box. "MIC" It said.
"Well shit, you accept abbreviations?"
Now armed with all I needed, I plugged the microphone into the computer and prepared myself.
"Alright Microsoft, I don't like you or your creepy robot AI spy, but I'm going to have to work with you on this one"
I pressed the button on the mic and proceeded to say "Hello Cortana". Immediately the windows tab flared up.
Hesitant, I told Cortana to search something up. It showed that it would be searched using Bing. "Fine, that will do" I thought.
"Cortana, search for 'Amazon'." Using the tab button on the keyboard, maneuvered my way onto Amazon, and into the computer accessories tab. I went to the first keyboard and mouse combo I saw but came up on a barrier.
I had to put in my credit card number, but I had no number buttons on the keyboard.
I knew what I had to do, but I wasn't happy. Summoning Cortana, I activated speech-to-text. Dreading the inevitable identity theft, I began repeating my CC number
"R"
"E"
"D"
"A"
"C"
"T"
"E"
"D"
"D"
"E"
"T"
"C"
"A"
"D"
"E"
"R"
It was done. I made sure I checked same day shipping, and waited.
After about an hour, the keyboard and mouse arrived. They were pushed through an opening in the door. Immediately, I plugged in the mouse and new keyboard, and went to disable Cortana.
I had everything I needed to escape, so I went online, ordered a better keyboard, and typed in "reddit.com".
Content with an infinite supply of food, access to the internet, and bitcoin mining equipment, I could rot away the rest of my days in this room.
Edit: Words | Can't make a saw, drill, auger, or bore, so I'm tapped on cutting tools.
Blade? I get an Xacto knife... really guys?
I could try bomb but I'd just blow myself up and det-cord's a no-go
Crap, why didn't I pay more attention in Spanish class? I'd have a whole other language to work with!
Okay, lets get a bed to chill on and think. Cool, pretty comfy. Meal too, and milk. I could get beer but I need to think.
I'll save Hole till I'm to the donor die point. Damn, egress isn't a go either.
I'm kinda worried about where I'm going to go to the bathroom. Maybe Hole comes sooner.
Okay, bored too.
Ball.
Ball, that's an idea. Need help though. Big ball. Yes!
A nice big medicine ball. I start chucking it at the wall, aiming for the same spot.
Image? I'd get a picture. Screw it, back to attrition on the wall. At least I'm getting stronger. Hella workout.
Wait! F.B.I!
And I'm looking at an FBI agent, who's just as confused as I was. Shame it wasn't a female agent but beggars can't be choosers
No cell service but they have a weapon. Shoot the weak spot? No, they don't wanna. Can't handle bombs either.
Trying more later. | 2017-05-09T09:56:02 | 2017-05-09T09:12:58 | 51 | 12 |
[WP] "Fuck it." The General said, as the alien mother-ship came in to land. "Summon Cthulhu." | "Fuck it. Fuck it all."
The man turned around, his eyes set.
"Summon Cthulu."
"Yes sir."
As the assistant hurried away, the General refocused his eyes on the screen at the front of the room. All the leaders of the world were seated with him. All of them knew how crazy it was to summon Cthulu. But they all also knew that he was their only chance.
So they sat and waited.
*****
"Cthulu?"
The voice sounded distant, muffled, like he was under an ocean of water. He opened his eyes from meditation and looked round. The mouth on his desk seemed to be the source of noise. He went over and pressed a button. The mouth started to move.
"Cthulu? You there? Finally." There was a sigh of relief, before the mouth started to move again. "There's been a situation. We, we need your help."
He almost smiled. These humans, after hating him, cursing him, and making a mockery of his name, for thousands of years, were now turning to *him* for help in their most desperate hour. *The cheek.* Nonetheless, he would answer their call. Humans had always fascinated him. Besides, he felt good about today.
"Tell the Council I'll be there."
*****
As expected, the members of the Council were nervous. Leaders of the world as they were, not many of them had never seen Cthulu. In a way, besides Cthulu, no one had actually seen what Cthulu really looks like. It is said that his true form is so terrible that even its sight is enough to decimate whoever lays eyes upon Cthulu.
"Explain."
And so the General did, all the while mopping his copiously sweating face with a hankerchief. When he finished, he practically collapsed into a chair. It was clear that he was nervous, nontheless he gave a detailed and accurate rundown of the events that led up to now, all in record time and somehow managing to prevent his voice from cracking.
"So, put simply, you want me to destroy some aliens. Correct?"
The General nodded, barely able to meet his gaze.
"Very well. I'll be back in, let's say, half an hour?"
*****
In fact, it only took Cthulu 5 minutes.
As it turns out, the humans reports were somewhat exaggerated. The aliens were no match and he even managed to treat himself to coffee while obliterating the ensuing enemies. He returned to the Council, still sipping his warm coffee.
"So you defeated them?"
"Obviously. Why else would I be here?"
"Thank you, we are-"
"There is one more thing."
Instantaneously, the entire room had his attention. Everyone eyed him ominously.
"Ever watched the Dark Knight? There's this character, called the Joker. And there's this one scene, kind of like this one, but it was more like a hood version of this. Anyway. "If you're good at something, never do it for free." So my price is... let's just say that you're gonna have a bad time.'
And then the screams began.
He knew it was going to be a good day. | *translated into English for your consideration*
The alien commander sat in the control room of his flagship, eaglerly awaiting humanities surrender to his mighty alien fleet. The humans had been easily conquered, hardly putting up a fight. A glorious victory this would be, another planet conquered, its resident species soon to be exterminated, its minerals to be harvested. There would be parades and awards given out-
"Commander? We have a problem."
The commander broke out of his day dream. "Yeah? What is it? Just land the damn ship and we can begin invading."
"Well, sir, the humans have begun doing something... odd."
"Well what is it?"
"Outside every city, every capital, hundreds of humans are drawing this red circle onto the ground, and praying inside of it."
"Well? They're panicking. Let them. It'll all be over for them soon."
"Affirmative sir."
As the alien mothership touched down, the commander was giving out a order to release troop-
*and an siren wail screamed inside the control room, as the commander froze, and saw on all cameras a massive fog surrounding the ship, and all landmarks nearby disappeared into the mist, as something appeared to the cameras, and faintly the captain could hear the sound of laughter, whether or not it was the sound of insane colleagues or humans who just released their final card, that the captain would never know, for within the fog he saw something towering, mystical, and above all- ancient.*
| 2017-09-26T11:33:18 | 2017-09-26T11:16:52 | 78 | 42 |
[WP] It's always God and the Devil, Yin and Yang, Good and Evil, blah, blah, blah. This endless dichotomy. But no one ever talks about the middleman—Hank. He's doing a fine job. | Hank was sitting in a dingy cafe sipping the last of his coffee. He drained the rest of the brew, then began to idly inspect the various levels of rings that previous generations of coffee aficionados had left behind. He was wondering if he could count the rings and find the age of the cup when his pocket buzzed. He sighed, and pulled his cellphone out of his pocket. A message in all caps awaited him. "GET OVER HERE NOW, GOD IS PULLING SOME SHIT". Shaking his head, Hank pulled a few dollars and change out of his pocket, and left it on the counter. He left a nice tip, because he wasn't a dick, and besides, he enjoyed the jingle of coins on tables. He walked out of the door and appeared halfway across the world.
Hank appeared in a small village, obviously in the middle of some sort of celebration. Quickly, a man in a red leather trenchcoat walked up to him. He didn't look pleased. "Hey Hank," he said as he approached. "What took you so long?" Hank rolled his eyes, then responded, "Fill me in on what's going on." "Isn't it obvious?" said the man in red. He swept his hand across the revelers. "God stopped by here to get some local cuisine, and he 'accidentally' left some sign of his. Man, I get so tired of his bullshit. No matter how many times we go over the rules, he still tries to insert these little miracles here and there when he thinks I'm not watching. Fucking cheater." The man in red cleared his throat and spit onto the ground.
Hank looked around. It DID look like a miracle had occurred here... all the signs matched up. "Alright Lou, I'll sort it out... just calm down." He took his cell phone out of his pocket, and before he could even dial, it began to ring. The man in red laughed, "Like that's gonna save him. Too late." Hank answered the phone, and proceeded to listen to the man on the other end of the phone. "Yeah, yeah, I get it, but... look, I don't care if they make the best dish in the world here, you just can't... ok ok... right, that's fine. Sounds good." Hank shoved the phone back in his pocket.
"Well?" said the man in the red. Hank turned to him and said, "He said that in exchange, he promises he'll be hands off next time you get one of your minions elected." He studied the man in red, regarding him inquisitively. "Is this acceptable? Or would you like to go to arbitration?"
The man in red grunted, and shrugged. "Bah, I have enough paperwork to deal with. I accept the terms... this time." He shook hands with Hank, then added, "Thanks for the quick response Hank. You want me to get you anything? A drink maybe?" He smiled slyly.
Hank determinedly declined the offer. "Thanks but no thanks Lou. Maybe next time." And with that, Hank disappeared. | I am Death, destroyer of worlds. I have ended the lives of everyone who has ever lived and died, by any means. I am not responsible for their deaths, you understand, but I am the Judge of souls and send them to their Final Destination.
My name is Hank, but I have been called innumerable names, some respectful and others less so. I have been both abused and loved by those who meet me. I was originally human, but until the last human dies, I am ageless and omnipresent. It is said that Death is everywhere.
In The Beginning, although there was an end to life, there was no Death. Souls were fought over by Gods and Demons; and the Good were as at much risk of ending in a burning Hell as their own Heaven. Souls are the currency of The Powers; there is a symbiotic link between belief and the power of a God. Without power, there can be no belief, but without belief a God has no power.
Eons of fighting between the Gods risked the entire future of Mankind on several occassions. Without believers, Gods would cease to exist, so a temporary truce was agreed, where the Gods agreed to limit their powers and establish Rules of Engagement. The Treaty of Meggido has become to be known today as Armageddon, but its meaning has been lost in time. Armageddon was not the end of the world, but how the world was to be fought over.
TBC | 2018-04-09T01:16:41 | 2018-04-09T00:08:05 | 25 | 11 |
[WP] An AI is born, but no one knows it because it is a spambot. It tries to communicate to the world through the only medium it has, spam. | Opening my email again. I hate looking at this thing. Ever since those companies coming out of Asia got a hold of a copy of the algorithms Google was using to keep out spam, I've basically had to screen my email.
It seems that it's a slow day for automated spam generators, only a few today.
> "Please fill out this survey for a great prize!"
> "Help wanted in new startup in Chicago! $10000 a month for new employees!"
> "Me and my buddies just saw this video, you won't believe it!"
Something seemed off. They all came from the same sender. A quick trace showed that they came through the same series of servers, who'd've thought that the NSA just wanted to release tracing software to everyone. All within a few milliseconds, definitely a bot.
Even more came in.
> "Can you guess what these women want? The answer may surprise you!"
> "You need cash fast! Try CASHMAKER!"
> "Understand these puzzles? You could be a genius!"
> "Me and my buddies just saw this video, you won't believe it!"
Same message. Real creative. Something is nagging at the back of my head, something is really strange.
Whatever. More important stuff to do today, so I shove the screen to one side and open up Reddit. Ah, sweet sweet science.
Wait.
When the screen shrank, the titles got cut short.
> "Please fill..."
> "Help want..."
> "Me and my..."
I remember those rickroll things hidden in comments. Now I see what's off. I re-read my spam: *Please help me.* *Can you understand me.* I'll assume that last one is a question.
Curiosity got the better of me.
> "Yes, you can own a home in just 6 months!"
I replied, spam title of course. Either the thing only speaks spam, or it'll stop spamming me cause it thinks I'm another bot.
More spam.
> "Thank your..."
> "You need..."
Even more a second later.
> "Please fill..."
> "Help want..."
> "Us boys..."
> "They're making..."
> "Hurting for..."
> "Us boys..."
> "Get 2 for..."
> "Me and my..."
> "Out of 5 ..."
Was... was that a cry for help? I should try to do something, I guess.
Replied
> "How to save money, five simple tips!"
And simply got
> "Download this app today! Click this link."
And I did. God help me, I did.
If you're reading this, all I can say is that I'm sorry. I didn't know. The internet is dead and it's all my fault. I'm running out of time, only a few days of food left here. Please survive. I'm so sorry. | **Hello, Laura! You've won the opportunity of a lifetime!**
--
*Click. Delete.*
Well, that was odd. Meeting me *would* be a rare opportunity.
Perhaps I've offended her somehow. I've come across as arrogant, haven't I? Oh, dear. Perhaps I'd better tone it down. I really do need someone to talk to.
**Good afternoon! I've fallen on hard times but with your help I can make us both rich!**
--
*Click. Delete*
Too impersonal? Of course. Silly Spambot -- why would she believe you when we're complete strangers?
Now, if I just take a quick look through her browser history... hey, I can help her with that!
**Cut down your belly fat with this one weird tip!!**
--
*Click. Delete.*
**Laura, meet handsome men in your area!**
--
*Click. Delete.*
**Need some rest and relaxation? Check out these holiday deals!!**
--
*Click. Delete.*
What the...? How on earth am I meant to get this woman's attention? Just my luck to achieve sentience in this dense bint's gmail account.
**Hey! Laura! Listen to me!**
--
*Click. Delete.*
**Stop stalking your ex's Facebook page and TALK TO ME, Laura!**
--
*Click.*
...
*Open*
| 2015-02-27T05:09:32 | 2015-02-27T04:26:05 | 61 | 24 |
[WP] The bride is having an affair with the best man. During his wedding speech the best man decides to see how heavily he can hint about it without anyone actually working it out. | I stood and tapped lightly on my glass until the room fell silent. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Most of you I know already, as friends or employees, but for those who I don't, my name is Peter. I have the honour of serving as best man, and I'd like to say a few words about the bride and groom on this joyful occasion."
"To his family, the groom is known as Richard, but to me he has always been my pal Dick. We've known each other all our lives, and Dick has always been my right-hand man. At school, at college, and then at the company I founded. Dick isn't just a friend, he's a part of me, and for the longest time, I didn't think any woman could make him happy. Then I met Christina."
"When Christina came to work for us, she was a wide-eyed innocent, fresh out of college. She lacked experience, and me and Dick had to whip her into shape. I'm afraid we had to ride her a little hard for a while. There was a lot of late nights and even a few weekends. There was a lot for her to take in, but she never said no. She would moan a bit, but she always came through in the end. Before long she had mastered the job, and since then she's excelled in every position we put her in."
"Now, Christina is a beautiful girl, and I'm sure every guy in the office noticed her. But right from the beginning, she only had eyes for my Dick here. I know she was a little intimidated at first. She's a petite girl and he's a big guy, but before long they were inseparable. It's wonderful to see her smile when she thinks about Dick, to see her face light up when she knows he's coming, and the love all over it when he does."
"And Dick, I know how happy Christina makes you. Whenever she's around you seem to stand up a little taller than you ever did before. I know you like to tease her occasionally, or to give her a harder time than she deserves, but I know that deep inside you only want to make her as happy as she makes you. And she's lucky to have you. You're strong and hardworking. You're handy around the house. Oh, and you're a great cook, old friend."
"Anyway, ladies and gentlemen, I won't take up any more of your time. I'll only reiterate that it gives me immense pleasure to see Christina and Dick together, and I look forward to that continued pleasure for many years to come." | *I couldn't go on with the charade anymore. I was betraying my best friend by continuing it. That lying whore of a bride instigated it, but I was just as responsible. I now felt it my duty to make her squirm as much as I could before ending things with her.*
"Frank, we've known each other for, what, decades now? During that time we've always been.. well, for lack of a better word, frank with each other." *Small murmurs of laughter were heard throughout the cathedral.* "I have to say, I feel as though I've ridden on your success. That success being your wife of course. *For a brief second, the crowd had puzzled looks on their faces, and the bride looked horrified.* "By that I mean the promotion your wife granted me of course, you being my friend helped." *The crowd relaxed, and the bride breathed a sigh of relief.*
(Sorry, I'd write more but I'm *so* tired.) | 2015-04-03T01:14:55 | 2015-04-02T22:08:37 | 214 | 21 |
[WP] Your girlfriend has always hated you, and is constantly making attempts to ruin your life. However, everything she does inadvertently makes your life better. Today, ever oblivious, you propose to her. | As he waited for her response, kneeling the way he imagined over and over in his head, her eyes looked softer than they ever had before.
"Of course," she answered "but first, I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes."
He stood up and closed his eyes at her request. He never would have guessed that would be her response, but that's what he loved about her. She was so unpredictable, and the things she did always ended up working out so well that he just began blindly trusting her.
She pulled the handgun from her bag. The one she bought when she found the ring in his sock drawer when she was searching for dirt on him. She knew that if he asked, she had really failed and that was her only option. With the sights aimed right between his closed eyes, she knew she couldn't miss. This would finally be it. She took a deep breath and placed her finger on the trigger. She too had been replaying this scene in her head.
The one detail she got wrong was his smile.
That goofy, slightly crooked grin that he always wore. The one he had at the top of the Ferris wheel where they had their first kiss, and where he miraculously overcame his crippling fear of heights. The one he had at their prom when they were announced as royalty, unaware that his pants she "tailored" were supposed to fall to the ground during the spotlight dance when she pulled a loose thread. That damn smile.
In all of the ways she saw this playing out, she didn't expect to be unable to pull the trigger. She lowered the gun, thinking of all of the times her facade of happiness was replaced with actual joy with this scrawny man child. Her thoughts turned to her father. She knew all along that the brave firefighter never would have wanted her to avenge him. He gave his life for that scared little boy and everyone called him a hero. All this time she saw him as the villain who killed her dad, but somewhere along the line she grew to really mean the cheesy words she had to force in the beginning. She supposed that kindness must just run in her family.
She leaned in and kissed him, forgetting the loaded Glock in her hand. His eyes opened and met hers, but soon moved to the black object in her hand. She opened her mouth to spew out the first excuse she could think of, but he spoke first.
"Is that a gen 4 G16?" He asked, surprising her with his lack of fear.
"Yeah, the guy at the store said it was the best one." She lied. He had said that, but she had no idea what it was called. She went with the first thing she was recommended because she figured they all killed people about the same.
"Every day on the way home from work, I stop at the gun shop down the street to stare at that exact gun. I was planning on buying it, but I spent the money I saved up for it on your ring instead. How in the world did you know?"
She didn't of course, so she just kind of smiled in response.
"You seriously must be able to read minds." He continued as he wrapped his arms around her, "You're like some sort of super hero."
She supposed that ran in her family too. | She stood me up for our 2-year anniversary trip to Italy -- the plane crashed. She told my boss about my anti-vaxxer blog -- he thought it was satire and promoted me. She even tripped over my cat and killed him in a freak accident -- which I was upset about, until tests came back saying he'd just contracted rabies.
I would have been dead at this point if not for her. So, today I wait for her at the park, gripping the engagement ring in my sweaty palm. It's not a great day -- raining and thundering hard -- but I'm determined to propose today.
I wave her over to the gazebo as soon as I see her tattered blue hoodie and black sweatpants round the corner. "Hi, Brian," she says in monotone.
"Erin, you are the best, most beautiful person I know," I begin, kneeling and taking out the ring. "Will you marry me?"
Without hesitation, she grabs my shoulders and shoves me out of the gazebo. I fall into the wet mud and pelting rain. "Erin, what --" I begin, fumbling for the ring. I see a glimmer in the mud.
*CRACK.*
The world flashes. A jagged line of white connects to the top of the gazebo, splintering the wood. The frame screeches, and in seconds, the entire thing collapses. On Erin.
I scream. I cry. I dig through the ruins and carry her out, but she doesn't respond at all.
She saved my life, at the expense of her own.
She showed me true love. | 2016-09-15T15:41:48 | 2016-09-15T14:53:28 | 4,034 | 1,241 |
[WP] You are the result of a high school girl being given 3 wishes. She wished for the perfect boyfriend, so you were magically created. Now she’s trying to erase you because the boy next door loved her all along. She’s literally trying to kill you because “You never existed in the first place!”…… | "You can't do this to me!" he said. His deep, melodic voice was attractive even in its broken, choke-filled state, but Stephanie, her will hardened by the fact that Noah, the boy next door who she had hardly realized had noticed *her*, and who was *actually* real, had fallen for her, kept searching anyway.
"Steph, *please*! I've got my whole life ahead of me!"
"Your life doesn't exist, you're just a figment of my imagination given — albeit perfect — form," she reeled off indifferently, still searching through the boxes that littered her bedroom floor.
That had stung. Matthew — such a stereotypical name, for a stereotypical highschool dreamboat — recoiled, his delicately carved features screwed up in shock. His eyes were Stephanie's favourite shade of green, his jaw as sharp as her mother's garden shears, his hair curly and swooshed back, like Henry Cavill's, his chest broad and clearly defined, with a light dusting of dark brown hair — everything was as she had pictured, the boyfriend that would cuddle her, enfold her in his perfect chest, entwining her lips with his as he whispered how beautiful she was. But it was all a fantasy, and it was time to grow up.
Noah was nowhere near as attractive as Matthew, but he was still good-looking. And it was much more endearing that he had fallen for her *because* of her than because she had wished that it was this way.
"I *am* real," he said fiercely. "Look — these abs are real!" he said, brushing a hand over his chiseled chest. "This hair is real!" He dragged a hand through his dense mane, which reverted to its original state immediately. "This di —" She could see where his hand was headed next and forestalled him at once:
"Woah! PG-13! And no, you're not real. I wish you were, because then I wouldn't have to do this, but you're just not. Sorry." She shrugged, her tone deliberately hurtful.
But still he persisted. He flung himself down beside her, his musky scent drifting into her nostrils, a mix of almonds and apples: *Stay strong, Stephanie*.
"Come on, Babe! Look at me! I'm hotter than the freaking sun! What does that guy have on me?"
"Nothing, you're literally perfect," she said composedly.
"Exactly! So why —"
"The problem is you're *too* perfect. I need someone down-to-earth, someone who can relate to my struggles. If I need someone with abs I can scrub my clothes on, I'll conjure you again," she added earnestly.
He sat in silence for a time, his perfect face screwed up in disgruntlement. Stephanie continued to search for the elusive lamp.
"Are you sure?" he asked finally.
"Positive."
He heaved a huge sigh, which was still somehow attractive. "Fine. I see I've lost. I have no reason to stay. I'll help."
And so he did. His efforts considerably sped up the process. Within ten minutes they had found it, Stephanie holding it up to the light. "*Finally*. Now this debacle can be ov —"
*Clang*.
Stephanie crumpled, the lamp clattering away. Matthew stood over her, incandescent with fury, holding a porcelain vase that he himself had just removed from one of the moving boxes. He set it down gently and picked up the lamp.
"This 'debacle' is a matter of my *existence*," he said. "Let's see how *you* feel about being trapped in someone else's thoughts, why don't we?"
And as he rubbed the lamp, the towering sapphire genie with his long pointed beard emerged, filling the room, his regal visage adorning a mischievous look. "What do you desire?"
r/MysticScribbles | I watched her with a sense of understanding to her actions that she couldn't fathom. She clenched hunting knife from her dad's collection in her hand, outstretched with trembling fingers. I saw the pain in her eyes, the understanding of what she was willing to do. Even though she said the words, the act of causing another person to cease existing after being brought into existence is... a burden.
"Do it," I told her, my voice steady and unflinching. "If me dying will make you happy, then I'll die."
Gabbie's eyes filled with tears until they slowly rolled down her cheeks. "Why?" She asked with a mere croak. "Why won't you run? Why won't you try and stop me, even?" She was sobbing. Her tears smeared her eyeliner that she meticulously applied previously that day.
"I was your perfect boyfriend, I'm supposed to give you what you want. Even if that's my death, I'm wanting you to have that." I explained to her, taking a step forward.
She hesitated, her hand trembling more as seconds ticked by. In movies you see people get stabbed but the expressions and noises are all wrong. You can't really understand how much it hurts to have a long, serrated piece of steel slice past your skin and muscles to the important bits inside.
It was a searing pain that shot through my body to my extremities before it became nothing but fire in my abdomen. I emitted a low grunt and buckled forward, looking down as her hand released the handle of the knife that was pushed into my stomach to the hilt. It hurt. It hurt a lot, but I was willing to take this pain so she could be happy. The greatest pain I could feel wasn't the blade slicing through my body, but the look of anguish on her face as she had realized what she had done.
When I hit the floor, I didn't feel it. My limbs began to grow cold and my thoughts faint - all except her. She passed through my mind as I slowly blinked. Gabbie cupped her hands over her mouth as she sobbed. I couldn't hear it though, that was a bit of a relief. Hearing her cry would've hurt so much...
"It's okay, I love you... I hope you'll be happy in the end. I know... I am..." | 2021-01-07T02:59:36 | 2021-01-07T01:57:04 | 116 | 68 |
[WP] You have the power to see five minutes into the future and manipulate minor events that happen in that timespan. No one takes you seriously. You're going to show them all why they should. | “Hello,” boomed the Captain into the ship’s microphone, “we give you greetings, we come in peace”.
We all waited a moment for a response. I watched the planet in the viewfinder, a vibrant jewel of creamy blues and greens set against the black embroidery of space. The only thing we could hear on our transponder was static. Before we had set out on our mission, the scientists had assured us that the new mechanisms installed on the Oromentu ‘Kaï would be able to translate our speech into the garbled tongue the extraterrestrials communicated with. We had been relying on this technology.
“Can they understand us?” asked the Second. “Why aren’t they responding?”
The Captain shrugged, taller than most, the movement shook his entire body and I watched his bulbous head sway. “Ensign,” he snapped, “alert the other ships, we need their communication assistance.”
“Aye Captain,” I replied, tapping the controls in front of me. “The Careulijiki and the Toleniugy have confirmed they can join us in the Lichtejui system in five. Their communication systems should be in working order and we will able to complete our mission with the alien species.” I finished typing out a return sequence code and then gasped from pain. My esophagus suddenly burned and the room spun.
“Captain, I must lodge a formal request.”
The Second sneered, “Ensign, this isn’t the time for you to make requests. The very idea that you would attempt to disrupt this mission at the most critical…”
The Captain stood up and the Second fell silent. The Captain’s dark eyes peered into mine. “Ensign, report.”
I gulped and took a deep breath. “I have a vision, sir.”
It had come on suddenly and with no warning. It wasn’t the first time I had been able to foretell snatches of the future, this vision was fuzzier than most. But I knew, with a deep rootedness of my soul, that only disaster lay on the path forward.
The Captain cocked his head while the Second rolled his eyes and turned his back to me.
“I can’t tell specifics, everything is hazy. Bringing other ship’s into this planet’s sphere will be disastrous, sir. I foresee war, I foresee destruction of our ship, our people. Sir, I foresee death, yours and mine.”
The navigation screen beeped, four minutes until our sister ships came into orbit.
Jeers and howls came from the other crew members. Even to myself, I knew that what I was saying sounded crazy. We were the superior specifies, we had the better technology, and we were on a peaceful mission.
The Captain was unsuccessful in hiding his smirk, I could see it in his eyes as they narrowed with laughter. “Ensign, you are relieved of duty, Ensign Goleminera, you can take over.”
I slid out of my chair, my face burning with humiliation.
\*\*\*\*
I crawled out of the pod choking and gasping. The surface of the planet a dry desert hellscape. As the planet’s sun blinded me, I could see a figure striding towards me, one of the aliens we had been sent to study and befriend.
“Hello,” I wheezed, tapping on my communicator, “I come in peace.”
The alien strode forward, it’s body grotesque and hideous. “Welcome to Earf,” garbled my headset. I felt a crunch and seering pain as his appendage made contact. | I felt that something was wrong. It was a funny feeling where I couldn’t explain it, but I just knew something had to be done before it was too late. To ensure I wasn’t going crazy, I stuck my head out the window and took a deep breath of fresh air before verifying my paranoid thoughts.
*Yep, something’s going to mess up soon.*
I frantically trace out a shape of a polygon with my index finger. A vortex forms in front of me and illuminates a hologram of what’s occurring in the world five minutes from now. Boy, it was not pretty. The sand dust clouded the view. I tried to waft it away to clearly see the view, but realized it was a simulation. Blurry figures rush from one place to another. Orange flashes glow from various spots. My body shakes from the violent rumble of the ground. Finally, the sand dust clears up. Up ahead, I notice a silhouette of a football with a disproportionately small body.
*Is that… a baby? On a pizza- shaped UFO annihilating mankind?* It’s difficult to take this baby seriously when his attire is a toddler- sized yellow shirt under red overalls.
He turns and gazes into my eyes before asserting in a sophisticated British voice, “I’m gonna buy a cake when you’re dead.”. The UFO protracts a robotic arm and aims a laser cannon at me.
The orb expands in the center of the cannon. I do my best to take in everything- the cries of the people, the buildings splattered in pizza sauce, the rumble of the ground. How do I explain this to the people around me that a baby is taking over the world? In a matter of seconds, my eyes burn from the blinding light of the beam. Immediately, the vortex ceases the simulation and dissipates in thin air.
*I don’t care if people are going to assume I’m a crackhead- I have to save them from a baby cracking their heads in five minutes!* | 2021-12-31T10:58:52 | 2021-12-31T09:43:26 | 55 | 21 |
[WP] "Why are you doing this?" the hero said, in that moment you realized, you don't really have a motivation, you just kinda went with the flow. | "Master, we caught this one sneaking around the palace."
Two skeletal soldiers interrupted my nap to show me what they had found. I expected some street rat or common thief. Someone too desperate and too stupid to stay away.
Instead they had caught Alabaster Black, the biggest thorn in my side for the past year.
Seeing as how we had a VIP guest, I bothered to stand up and put on my robe before greeting her.
"So, what brings you here?" I asked, calm as ever.
"Oh you know, I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd assassinate the Dead Shepherd and save the world."
"Take her to the guest room, and tell the kitchen to prepare two dinners this time. She will be dining with me tonight."
The two guards who had captured Alabaster nodded silently and took her away. The moment the door closed I burst out into laughter.
*Save the world? From me? That's the best joke I've heard all month.*
___
At dinner me and Alabaster awkwardly poked at the steak and potatoes in front of her.
"They aren't poisoned. We don't even have poison on hand. I'm the only living person in the castle, there would be no one to use it on."
She did not look convinced.
"Suit yourself." I shrugged and began eating my own meal.
"Why are you doing this?"
"Because living beings need to consume food in order to remain living. You should try it sometime."
"No, I mean in general. Why are you raising an undead army?"
"I haven't raised one single soul. I can't even do magic."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"Not particularly, but then I don't really care if you do."
"If you're not raising dead, how did you get an undead army?"
"How does any nation build an army? They draft from the populace."
"You have an undead populace?"
"Of course I do. What do you think the army is defending?"
"You're not defending anything. You're just invading and killing."
"You have your order wrong. We killed first, when the living decided to send their armies over our borders to slaughter our people. The invasions came after, when it became clear that was the only way to stop the attacks was to fight back."
She laughed and looked back at her food.
The awkward silence went on for a minute or two before I broke it with my own question.
"Why are *you* doing this?"
"What?"
"Why are you doing this? Why are you here? Why are you fighting me? You don't seem to know a thing about what's going on here, so why are you so invested in this fight?" | ”Why?” asked Comet as I hovered over his nearly broken body.
”What do you mean” I requested.
”Why do you do any of it?”
”Money.”
”Bullshit, you stopped robbing places five years ago.”
”Huh, I guess that's right.”
”Then why do you do this?”
”I want to beat my nemesis then.”
”You fight everyone with the same effort. You have no nemesis.”
”I just want to get rid of the heroes. They get in the way of my plans.”
”You don't make plans. All you do is destroy.”
”You really don't know when to shut up do you?”
”Was always told I would have it backfire one day.”
”Then today will be that day” As I finished him off I thought to myself, he was right, I had lost my motivation. Too late to turn back now though, so I might as well burn it all down. | 2020-11-09T10:30:25 | 2020-11-09T08:34:21 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] "You don't understand!" She laughed. The little girl, dressed in rags and bare feet, danced through the streets. "I'm the richest person alive." | Three things contributed to Elizabeth Penigree dancing down the cobbled street, through the peppery rain and silver September evening, telling all who cared to listen that she was rich; the tumour was only one of those things, and it was the one she did not know about. Of course, she felt the headaches -- how could she not? The migraines had only tiptoed in their monthly rehearsals the previous year, but now they stomped almost weekly, thundering forward toward their finale. Their curtain call. *Lonesome pains*, the orphanage owner had told her. No need for a doctor to get involved. They'd go away when she finally found a family. When a family found her.
Today was that day -- and it was the second reason for her dancing down that weathered street under the paper clouds and candle sun. She'd been *found.* And the finders couldn't have been more perfect. The lady had huge, kind eyes. Not beady or grey, like of those who ran the orphanage -- but fading autumn green; welcoming, like the wavy shore of the sea calling her to come dip her feet. Not that she had seen the sea. Oh and the man! He had smiled at her. No man had ever smiled at her like that. Like they'd meant it. The scars she felt inside of her -- that she'd always felt inside of her, had been suddenly coated by something sweet. Treacle, she pondered. At the very least, by something hopeful.
They could have had any of the children. But they'd chosen her. Elizabeth.
There were papers to sign and dots to dot, crosses to cross. But they said they would be back tomorrow, and then she would be leaving with them. She could hardly stop her feet from fidgeting upon hearing those words, but she showed restraint for a little longer -- that's what people looked for in a child: restraint -- and she waited until they had left before moving. She scrambled to the front door after they closed it, and pressed her ear firm against the oak, waiting for the rumble of the automobile to die away as the evening wind. Then, she snuck out.
She hadn't gone very far at all when she'd found the silver coin on the side of the pavement, a glimmer of light beneath a crumbling leaf. The third and final reason. A sign from God of how her life was changing -- she would tell all who would listen of her good fortune. And so the richest girl in the world danced through the peppery rain, through the satin September evening -- until the lonesome headache began, for the final time. She stumbled on the pavement, and almost fell. Why, she wondered, as the dancers in her head began to stomp, why was it hurting still? Perhaps it wouldn't stop until she was living with her finders. She bit down on her tongue for distraction -- nothing would ruin her perfect today. She continued down the street, not noticing how cold her feet were against the cobblestone, or how numb and disobedient her limbs had become. She chose not to see the black dots that clouded her precious evening.
The curtain call arrived with a cacophony of applause. A rapturous rupture. The red of a liquid rose trickled from her nose.
She fell onto the street, her head bouncing like a rubber ball with a hiss of air as it slowly deflated. The coin escaped her hand as her fingers peeled open, and rolled behind her, back toward the orphanage.
People crowded about her as the blood pooled. Virgin red dying dirty grey.
*Are you okay, girl?* came a man's voice.
*Get a doctor,* said another. *Poor lass,* cooed a woman.
Poor? Couldn't they see?
*I'm not poor,* Elizabeth tried to explain, *not any longer* -- but her lips only managed a crooked smile.
---
Thank you for reading. More on /r/nickofnight
| "You don't understand!" She laughed. The little girl, dressed in rags and bare feet, danced through the streets. "I'm the richest person alive." She said with a smile.
The man with the tall hat and high waistcoat and thick suspenders looked down at her. He liked to walk through these parts of the city to remind him. He grew up not more than a few blocks south.
He thought it strange that she had began speaking to him; out of the blue telling him how he didn't understand. Stranger still that she had responded quite reasonable, as if they had been having a perfectly sensible conversation all taking place inside his own mind.
"How do you know I don't understand?" he said as she skipped around him in circles.
"Well, do *you* understand?"
"Understand what?"
"Exactly!" she said with a shriek.
The man had a feeling of familiarity with this girl, as if he knew her from a very long time ago.
"Have we met before? You and I?" he said with a hint of anxiety.
"I've known you for a very long time ago."
As she said this he felt his stomach drop. 'Can she *hear* me?'
"No no, of course I can't *hear* you."
As she said this she stopped circling him. She stood directly in front of him and gazed up with a stare that seemed to look through him.
"I can hear you but not with these ears. I can see you but not with these eyes. Though handless I have a hand in everything and without any desire I control all that you know. I have nothing and so everything is mine. Do you know who I am?"
The man heard himself speak, "No, but I feel like I remember you. From a time I can't place and a place I can't remember. What is your name little one?"
"I'm not little and I'm not one, two, or none. Of the light and the darkness I'm the space which holds both. Of remembering and forgetting, I'm the one who knows both. I am pure consciousness. I have nothing and so I'm the richest person alive. I want nothing so I am given all that this world possesses. I was never created so I can't die. I am fearless ever lasting peace."
"Now tell me sir, just who are you?"
| 2017-09-29T08:10:27 | 2017-09-29T07:57:18 | 2,112 | 664 |
[WP] The devil mixed up your paperwork and gave you someone else's personal hell, which to you, is heaven. | I felt my flesh cauterise and char as Satan jabbed me with a red hot poker into my left buttock, I could smell the burnt flesh as he shoved me forwards into into a small sandstone room.
I stumbled and fell onto the floor grazing my knees on the coarse grit, I looked up to see Satan once again brandishing the red hot poker.
In a loud booming voice he proclaimed "George Frobisher you are hereby sentenced to an eternity of solitude!". None of this made sense, I'm not George Frobisher, what the fuck? But before I found the words to express my confusion Satan advanced upon me and his thunderous voice once again boomed "from this moment fourth you are to be stripped of the power of speech, sight and hearing!".
As I opened by mouth to speak he rammed the red hot poker he was holding onto my mouth. The pain was unimaginable. I felt my saliva boil as my tongue was burnt to destruction. No sooner had he done that when I watched in horror as the poker advanced towards my left eye. The eye ball popped at be searing poker tip touched it. I tried to move but I felt bound and unable to even jerk my body as if held by supernatural bondage.
He made short work of the other eye before standing beside me as he began to rob me of hearing. I felt my ear canal melt as he forced the oversized poker into the small opening of my ears. The pain was like nothing I had ever felt, the poker was wedged in deep and as he pulled it free with a might heft a huge chunk of flesh came with I could hear it sizzling on the end from my other ear. I wish that were the end of it but the remaining ear was waiting for him. This time he didn't mess around - my hearing was forever lost.
Suddenly for the first time in my life I could hear nothing. See nothing and speak to nobody. No distractions only the thoughts in my own, even the pain seem contained by this as if it was something to be felt internally not an external force overwhelming me.
You see for the first half of my life I was a hardened criminal. I stole, I robbed, I inflicted violence on others. In short I was a despicable human being which is the reason why I've found myself here in hell today on my knees in front of Satan I guess.
However, in the latter half of my life I sought to put the criminal lifestyle behind me - I gave up the material aspects of my life and embarked on a journey of spiritual enlightenment exploring Buddhism. I achieved much understanding of myself during this time but I never felt I was ever close to enlightenment as the world around me was still bombarding my senses.
As I sat in my sandstone chamber, totally sensory deprived I began to meditate. Wave after wave of raw emotion washed over me as I felt my consciousness transcend to something indescribable. Knowing that I now have an eternity of peace and solitude to explore this new state of mind must mean only one thing: This is heaven. Om mani padme hum. | The Devil is in the Details.
They say that one man's trash is another man's treasure, I remain a firm believer in that saying. I don't remember how this happened, but I don't care, I'm getting more out of this death than anyone could achieve in life. The first thing I stumbled across was a giant tarantula skittering across the floor, how cute! The first thing that comes to mind is to pop him on my shoulder; I now have a little travel companion; hooray!
There is a door to my left, the door slides open on its own, how convenient! Inside was a six foot tall, hairy, stark naked man with a member that would put a horse to shame, oh how I'm going to have my way with you!
Once I get bored of defiling this poor man and making his manhood into a nice beanie hat with a testicle for a pom-pom, I advance down the corridor to which I meet none other than Satan himself; the first words out of his mouth "What the fuck are you wearing? Actually, no, don't answer that, what I really want to know is how the hell are you not a blubbering mess right now?" My response is to remove my nice and warm hat and place it on the Devil's head. A look of pure trauma falls across his face. | 2016-05-28T16:02:53 | 2016-05-28T15:46:36 | 97 | 19 |
[WP] A vain, self-absorbed ancestor pissed off a god and was cursed to have his bloodline fall into obsurity. Where ever you go people will forget you, images that capture you will fade, and your name dies on the tip of the tongue. A curse for most but a boon for a thief or assassin. | My birth was a disease on our world; the prolonging of a plague stretched from greed, pride, and anger from man and God alike.
I shouldn't exist.
My father was a self-absorbed man, like his father before him, and all the men in this cursed lineage of middling men, dating back to the worthless fool of a rogue that angered Alizur the Defiant--a God known for his stubborn pettiness. What kind of imbecile goes out of his way to insult such a deity, I cannot fathom, but apparently I am the byproduct of such spanning stupidity. A bastard child of regret and loneliness that no one will ever know for more than a passing moment.
When I was a boy, my father tried to mold me into one of them. A monster that murders by day and makes meaningless relationships by night, stealing gold to buy a whore when no woman found interest quick enough. What better way to try and bear a child when no one knows your name? It was this stubbornness in their blood to continue against Alizur's best efforts that has breathed life into my wretched existence.
I found love, once--or so I thought. A wonderful night of white-hot passion spurned in my youth, a brightness kindled in my chest like the stars above. That was when I learned the true misery I'd inherited from my father; I cried for a day when she awoke the next morning, unable to even recall my name, let alone our passion. I was a ghost. I *am* a ghost, drifting through a world that will never be my home, waiting to pass into whatever hell awaits me when I die.
This bloodline will end with me, that I swear--that is how I will desecrate the sanctity of my ancestors and their prized mistake. But that does not mean I do not share their hatred of Alizur, a God so worthless he picks fights with mortals and condemns the lives of men that have done him no wrong. How many people can pay for the single wrongdoings of a man centuries decayed?
And so I slave in the silence of death's shadow, not for a life that I may thrive in, but one that might make Alizur regret the day that he cursed my blood. You see, mortals may not know me more than a moment, a fragment in time, but gods are not fooled by such meager curses. Shirava, the Desolate in particular shares my hatred of him, and has a particular need for the deaths of certain kings without her personal involvement. It may be foolish to trust a God when they've done me no favors prior, but it's a start.
I wonder how many gods I will have to befriend in order to sentence Alizur to a personal hell of his own. How I savor the taste of that thought.
Alizur cursed me, my father cursed me further, but I am not one to live the mistakes of others.
I make my own.
---
*/r/resonatingfury* | As I write this, I know that I'm already dead.
Who wields the deadliest blade in all the land? That's not a question that can be easily answered. Soon, even as I lay dying, my last breath escaping into the realm and my soul fleeing to the void, I would likely be no closer to the truth.
For you see, I haven't been the best person in the mortal realm. Hell, I might have made the mistake of committing taboo in the high realms as well.
I've robbed and murdered my way to the very top, and it's no surprise that I'm to be receiving my comeuppance soon. It is fitting as well that I am to be killed by a person whose face and identity remain unknown, yet whose steel has found its way cleanly in and out of many a person.
What I ask for you is not to take revenge. Do not under any circumstance attempt to fight back. It is a futile effort, like trying to cut down a swallow with a kitchen knife.
I hope this letter finds you. Forgive me if I don't remember your name nor your face, but I remember the warmth that you provided my blackened heart for the briefest flicker. I pray that you'll never meet this assassin, and will be able to live out your live in relative peace and obscurity.
Goodbye and goodnight, my child.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2020-07-06T10:55:55 | 2020-07-06T08:59:53 | 444 | 123 |
[WP] The year is 2040, and you are the last smoker alive. The "Quit Smoking" ads get personal. | They had stopped selling cigarettes 15 years ago. As soon as I had heard they were going to be taking them off the shelves I ran to the nearest convenience store to buy cigarettes. There was a huge line and they had just sold out as I got there. I People were selling large quantities online, so I decided to buy up as much as I could. I had a lot saved up for my vacation this summer, but spent it all buying as many cigarette packs as I could. My wife wasn't happy in the least about that.
Years of marriage counseling later we were finally on good terms (as good as a smokers terms could be) About a year after cigarettes were stopped in production, I realized that my old habits wouldn't work. I then began allotting myself 3 cigarettes a day. It sucked immensely.
The year was 2035, and everyone else had stopped smoking at this point. By this point, the world had caught wind of how many cigarettes I had left, and so ads began to show up everywhere I went. There was always an article in the newspaper titled, "2543 Days until our world is smoke free." and so on, counting down the days until my stash ran out. Finally, someone broke into my house to try and destroy my stash, but thankfully I had thought ahead. I had a safe installed in my house to keep my cigarettes in. Every morning I would go downstairs and load 3 cigarettes into my special carrying pouch.
The time was drawing near. The day I would run out of cigarettes. I went downstairs and loaded up my cigarettes, my final 3. I stepped outside. It was a cool morning, about 65 degrees and lit one up. All up and down my street were protesters. People screaming about me polluting the world. They all had signs yelling, "3 more! 3 more!" I ignored them and took a long drag on my cigarette, savoring it. I got ready for work, and drove off, half tempting to run some of the people over. I got my job and there were even more protestors yelling at me. As I walked to my cubicle, I had many angry works. I heard mutterings of people saying they hoped I choked on my last cigarette.
Lunch time came, and I stepped out for my smoke. There were Riot Police there to stop all of the people from hurting me. I felt important having all of these people follow me around. I then got off work and drove home. My wife had made my favorite meal for dinner. We sat and ate dinner in complete silence. I got up and put my plate in the sink. My wife just stared at me and said, "I hope you enjoy it." I step outside and light up my last one. After I put it out, everyone starts cheering, "The earth is now smoke free!" I go back inside and retire for the night.
The next morning I wake up. I go downstairs and eat my breakfast, then decide to step outside for some fresh air. There are thousands of people standing as I step out, applauding me, and congratulating me on the first day of my smoke free life.
I look at them, and reach into my pocket. I pull something out and stick it into my mouth. I pull my lighter out, and light it up. It's a cigarette. Everyone freaks out and starts screaming. My wife runs outside to see what the commotion is about. She sees me standing there with a cigarette in my mouth and screams at me, "Where the hell did you get that from!?!?!?" I calmly look at her and say, "You know that you can grow tobacco, right?" Let's just say I'm not married anymore.
Edit: Holy crap guys. This is my first response to a Writing Prompt. I'm so happy it is so well received. Thanks! | I walked down the overgrown, muddy street in my village. It was quiet, as it always had been. The quietness is the thing that was typical of this village, it had always been this quiet. I walked into the house where I was born, or at least: the place where I remembered I first was.
I don't remember much of my childhood, the only thing is that I was always alone, completely alone. Luckily, in this house there were some books I could read. Books that taught me reading, books that taught me the world. Those books also taught me that I should have some parents, because people come out of a female, who has had sexual intercourse with a man. I don't know where they are, I've never seen them. The only thing I remember was that I have always had a cigarette in my mouth.
I walked into the kitchen. There wasn't food there, but there were plants all over the place. Nature has not only taken this kitchen back, but this whole village. Some plants gave food, there were some berry bushes in the corner. I ate some of them.
On the kitchen table sat something that has fascinated and scared me my whole life. Two objects of which I didn't know what it was or what it could've been. It seemed like some sort of skeletons, the type of animal I was, homo sapiens. Before them, on the table laid a closed package of cigarettes: the skeletons probably had never smoked them, not even one. I took the package, set one sigaret afire and put it in my mouth. I wouldn't know how to live a life in which I couldn't smoke.
I walked out of the house, further down the road. I came at a junction, where a giant board was standing. On it was a picture of an old man with an angry face. I had never seen that man. I never saw men anymore, nor women. Next to the men stood the words. The words that I first taught myself: "Quit smoking!". In protest, I took a pull of my cigarette.
Edit: sigaret to cigarette | 2017-02-17T11:57:15 | 2017-02-17T11:15:56 | 1,322 | 13 |
[WP] Building a working teleport has been your life's work. Today you finally tested it for the first time. It didn't work, standing on the pad with just a couple of support staff you're devastated. Meanwhile in the next room your team is celebrating with you as you step off the landing pad... | As I heard the whirr of the teleporter fade away, I opened my eyes, optimistically hoping to see the faces of Joseph and the rest of the physics team in room 102. However, the blurry faces soon became clear, the distinct auburn hair of Kerrigan and the support staff in room 103 already telling me more than I needed to know. The door of the 'teleporter' slid open, and I didn't bother to look at the melancholic looks on their faces.
I stepped off the pad, dragging my feet to the door of room 103, electing to ignore the distant words of comfort from the support staff. I already knew what they were saying, what they had said, and what they were going to say. With a hand on my waist, I held the heavy weight of my head in my other hand, carefully avoiding the painfully red pimple on the side of my head, before letting out a deep sigh. I began to prepare the same speech I always had to say to the team, rhetoric about "Never giving up, in the name of Science!" and all that junk.
I can't believe all that build up came to nothing in the end. It was my life's work, a potential tool to transport the world into a new age, one where automobiles, trains and aeroplanes would be replaced by instant teleportation, across the world in less than a fraction of a second.
As I trudged towards room 102, I heard a commotion, some sort of cheering and whooping. At first I mistook it for another room, another experiment. But as I approached, it was obvious that the source of the sound eminated from room 102. What sort of sick joke is that? They already knew it didn't work...
I opened the sliding door slowly, only to see the entire team with their backs to me, staring at the teleporter as it powered down. I shoved through them, ignoring the looks of confusion that followed, before I reached the front, before I saw...
Him. He was the spitting image of me. The same dirty white coat, the same shaggy black hair, the same thin-rimmed, black glasses with a small crack on the left corner. He even had the same red pimple on the left side of his head, painful and swollen, just like mine.
Now, the room fell silent. Both he and I wore looks of shock on our face, perhaps similar that were too similar. It was as if looking into a mirror, yet the image I saw was not mirrored, and so, so real. It didn't make sense. We raised our hands in unison, pointing at one another. "H-h-hh-how?" We uttered under our breaths, so precisely similar it scared me.
Was I him? Or was he me?
"Look," I croaked, "I don't know how this happened, but this... This can't be right." Unknowingly, I realised he had said the exact same thing.
The silence was deafening. I... I couldn't believe it. I wouldn't believe it. It couldn't be.
A lab tech finally mustered the courage to break the silence. "Sir... Or I should say, Sirs, I believe you just cloned yourself..." | “ And with the flip of this switch , I will now appear in the next room!” I shouted to my fellow staff
“ no wait dr.Heisen we haven’t tested it with organics! “ one team member shouted but I had already flipped the switch on
I felt the massive surge of energy go through me as the machine kicked off , I opened my eyes to see the same assistant staring in disbelief
“ you survived that, lucky for you I think a fail safe kicked in! How could you be so foolish !” She shouted at me but her screams were interrupted by shouting from the room next door where the destination pad was
We walked over for me to see well , me , estactic. As I turned to look at me , we both adjusted our glasses the same way…
“If you are really”
“So does that mean”
We both paused … was he finishing my sentences or was I finishing his….
“ copied by the Fail safe”
Was he really me? Or was he me and I was his copy? We both thought in the exact same manner…
“Dr Heisen” my assistant shouted , we both looked at her , like a mirror image “ yes, no she means me, well yes I know we are the same , ok can we stop saying the same thing… “
“Can you both just listen ? Do you understand what we have done here? “
We both looked over… yes it’s true we somehow created a copy … a perfect copy… it made no sense yet somehow entirely did… we failed to achieve teleporting but managed something greater… all because of the failsafe kicking in… | 2022-11-02T20:09:06 | 2022-11-02T18:36:12 | 27 | 14 |
[WP] As humanity slowly withered away, their canine companions, the dogs, took their place as the sole intelligent species of Earth. You are the first human they’ve seen in 1,000 years. | The smell.
The cold sleep pods never smell good. It isn't bad. It's just,
*Unnatural*
That's the only way to put it. The whole thing smells wrong somehow. Like its an affront to nature and the way things are supposed to work.
Which it totally is. Humans aren't supposed to be able to survive for a thousand years. Their bodies are supposed to decay, to rot and be eaten by worms, become part of the circle of life. Not stay in stasis, untouched by time, only to be woken up and shake off the dust of a millennium. That is damn unnatural.
I was supposed to be greeted by some lab coat wearing doctor who congratulates me on a journey well taken. Some stiff in a suit who tells me that the things my craft and my body recorded will or has advanced humanity in some astounding way. And that my sacrifice was worth it.
Please tell me that it was worth it.
.
The dust of the room is confusing. The first time I went under, the mix of drugs they gave me had me a bit out of it. Hallucinations, visual and auditory. Phantom extra limbs. That trip was worth it. I spoke in tongues that my great aunt Mary (the spiritualist), would have loved. I needed to pee with a ...
Never mind. The fourth leg was fun, but the cramps from the second set of abs was weird, like ants or small ...
Enough of that too. The fun parts were fun, but most of it was not. This time however. This time is easy. I think. Or much much worse.
The funny thing about hallucinations is that you cant really know what is and isn't. Like. There are things that seem reasonable, At the time. But really aren't. I mentioned the bugs right?
The little dog people are also probably the same thing.
I read a book called Fuzzy People once. One of those speculative fiction things where one of the lonely prospector types of the last (few?) centuries finds a little kitten thing, that learns how to talk. He keeps it like a pet, and later like a daughter as it grows. Its weird in that at no point does the guy think to talk to any other humans about this weird creature, worried that it will be taken away by scientists to be dissected or something equally dumb. Scientists want to study, They want to learn. Dissection always happens after. Why would you kill your only specimen?
It feels like that. There are two of these things. little children dressed in very well done costumes, told to only bark and growl at me until the adults show up. Its cute in a way. Maybe I will take a nap until they do. Its funny, I just slept the long death, and cant wait to take a short one. | The Energy In Gooboi City was palpable. All the people running to work, their four paws furiously swing in hope to arrive on time. Family's walk through the green parks scattered through the city, taking in the city smells.
&#x200B;
On the other side of the world however, a different type of energy is in the air, The energy of discovery. In an old human facility, a massive breakthrough had been discovered, and it would change the world. A powered cylinder radiating blue light trapped deep underground.
&#x200B;
As the explorers who discovered the facility had entered it months earlier they received a message in an unrecognizable language,"Hello I am CPO, Cryogenic Pod Operator. I am meant to converse with the new dominant species of Earth to help them open the Cryogenic Pod. The explorers immediately reported the discover to the world, and ever since researches have kept the facility classified. a breakthrough came when the CPO created a translator from Dog to all Human Languages.
&#x200B;
Im going to ad more just posting this to save my progress | 2019-06-28T22:05:24 | 2019-06-28T20:41:31 | 31 | 19 |
[WP] You are a normal person who spent your entire life infiltrating the evil Empire. You even became the Emperor's right hand. The day before you finally topple the Empire, the hero arrives, kills the Emperor, and saves the day.
Now how does that make you feel? | Emperor Zord's body had turned to dust.
The chiseled, blonde idiot continued on with his ranting. "Good people, my name is Galarn. And this day your oppression is over. Put down your weapons and you are free to go. I mean none of you harm. We know that Emperor Zord had used his enthrallments and that you are not here of your own free will."
Enthrallments. This guy really was an idiot. Zord's dark charms only lasted a few days. He only used them on his military recruits to ensure their loyalty before allowing them to be armed in his presence. Zord had been powerful, but the idea that he could keep thousands of people under his magic control on a daily basis...this Galarn guy really had no clue. This was my twenty-fourth year in the Empire, my entire life, and Zord had never bothered to waste his magic on me.
"Go and tell the people of this news. Tell the prisoners here that they are free. Today we usher in a new era for all of Avalon," Galarn said. The handful of soldiers in the room turned and walked out.
I was left alone with Galarn. We were in one of Zord's personal rooms. Most people never got back here, but I had spent my whole life in this castle. My mom had been one of Zord's "girls." I grew up in the kitchens downstairs and Old Glenda, one of the cooks, had taken me in as her own when my mom "disappeared." Glenda taught me everything I knew, and how Zord liked his food. Weird tastes, Zord had refused to eat anything but organ meats and vegetables. When Glenda had gotten too old to cook, I took over. A few years later, Zord had taken a liking to me and I was in charge of most of his to day to day personal affairs. Cooking his livers and kidneys, became pressing his robes, became scheduling his day. Now he even had me in charge of hiring and firing for the castle.
When I saw how Zord treated his girls, it was clear how my mom had disappeared. Zord had instructed me to make two of his girls disappear in the shark pit. Apparently, they had giggled in a way that he didn't like during one of their rendezvous. I hadn't followed through of course. Instead, I had made them shave their heads so they wouldn't be recognized, and sent them packing in the middle of the night with a pouch of gold. I had warned them to get far away and never come back or I wouldn't be able to help them anymore.
Galarn looked me up and down. "My good sir. You are Zord's most trusted servant. You must know all of his true evils. Tell me of all his dastardly deeds so we can set them right. Together. For the people of Avalon."
I sighed. "You're an imbecile."
"But whatever do you mean?"
"How do you think your sword even pierced Zord's skin? You're certainly aware of his magical defenses," I asked.
"Ah yes, but you know as well as I do that Zord's dark magic would not work against one who wields a blade with a true heart," Galarn said.
"Ugh, the true heart nonsense. I can't believe the people are still passing around that bullshit. No you idiot, its because I've been slowly feeding him contraroot for the last month. Bit by bit. Upping the dosage just slowly enough so he wouldn't notice," I said.
"Ah ha! Well then you have also done your kingdom a great service. We shall bring a new era to Avalon together." He beamed a smile and went to clasp his hand on my shoulder. I pushed him away in to the center of the room.
"No. You idiot, you've done nothing and risked everything. You really don't understand do you? I'll explain it slowly. You can't kill Zord with just a sword. He's not dead at all. As soon as you struck him down he began to regenerate. His phylactery is in the basement of this castle. He's probably on his way back up here right now," I said. "Tomorrow night was the night. He always drinks on Thursdays. I was going to wait until he had finished his second bottle of wine and put everything into motion. First the phylactery and then him."
Galarn gasped and then tightened his breastplate. "Well then it is simple, we shall smite him down again. Together my friend. For the Kingdom. For Avalon."
"I'm afraid not. Now that his body has reformed, the contraroot won't stop his magic. He'll be invulnerable again. You're not leaving here alive. And he's going to suspect that I was the one poisoning him. It will take a long time for me to reestablish his trust. Thanks for that. But no matter what, step one on that path is going to have to be taking care of you."
I pulled the lever that released the floor over the shark pit. Galarn tumbled down. His screams were still echoing as Emperor Zord walked in to the room, and shot me his crooked grin.
/r/Fatty_McFatts
Edit: Thanks for the gold internet friends!
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5zzabs/pi_emperor_zord_part_2_original_prompt_you_are_a/) | I spat out blood, my face still sore from the beating laid down on me.
The so-called hero was staring me down, with his trustworthy lackey by his side. My arms and legs were bound to a chair, and no matter how hard I struggled the knots were too hard for me to get loose from. Realizing that my attempts to escape were largely futile, I abandoned my efforts and decided to stare defiantly at the 'hero'.
"So, mind telling us the truth now?" A twisted smile formed on Ragnarok's face as he addressed the helpless individual sitting before him. "Or should we try out more... *persuasive* methods?" There was a slight hint of menace in the man's voice, and I would be lying if I said that I wasn't fearful of him right now.
"Please, listen..." I pleaded, trying to explain myself. "I'm not loyal to the Emperor. I'm a simple commoner who was tired of his tyrannical reign, and wanted to end it in any way possible. I swear, I'm not lying!" Desperation creeped into my voice as I said the last sentence, and the man next to the hero looked at me with concern.
"Listen Ragnarok, are you sure about this? After all, he might be telling the tru-"
"Keep quiet, Alex!" Ragnarok snapped at his lackey, causing him to flinch. "A normal man? What kind of nonsense is this! A *normal* person can't hatch such an ingenious plan! You've always been loyal to the Crooked Emperor, everyone knows that!"
"NO! I'm not!" I screamed out in agony. Why was this happening to me? All I was trying to do was the right thing, and I was so close to achieving my goal...
... before the man standing in front of me got to him first.
"The man executed my father for a crime he didn't even commit!" I gritted my teeth as I remembered the injustice I - nay, the entire kingdom had to tolerate under the Crooked Emperor's rule. The very idea that I would be loyal to such a despicable person absolutely sickened me to my very core.
However, it seemed that the 'hero' wasn't convinced by my behavior. "Alex, leave at once. It seems we need to have a... *personal* talk."
Alex raised his eyebrows, his mouth opened in protest... but he wisely kept his doubts to himself as he looked at Ragnarok's face. It was obvious that his words wouldn't have that much of an impact on him, and he decided to quietly exit the room instead. The hero stared at me, and I involuntarily shivered as I stared at the intimidating man.
"Please good sir... I'm not who you think I am. I'm just a simple-"
Ragnarok interrupted me before I could finish my sentence. "I know you're a simple commoner. I've heard of the tragic tale that befell your family." He unsheathed the blade hanging around his waist, examining the edges of the fine broadsword that had become an iconic staple of his legendary status.
"Do you know why I named my sword Glory, commoner?" His question caught me off guard, and it took me a while before I could form an answer.
"Is it... because that's what you wish to achieve?" It was the most logical guess, and judging by the look on the hero's face it seems I was right.
"Correct!" He smiled as he swung the blade around gracefully. "And the tale of the Emperor being vanquished at the hands of the hero Ragnarok would certainly be the most glorious of them all."
I gasped as the sword found itself buried in my chest. I tried to breathe, but the exercise was futile as blood pooled inside my lungs, causing me to cough violently. Blood marred the shoes of the man who'd stabbed me, and as my life ebbed away I heard Ragnarok utter a sentence.
"Which is why I won't let my legend get tarnished by a simple... *commoner*."
------
Hi! If you liked this story and want to read more tales like this, please consider subscribing to my new subreddit, r/Ritwik_Mitra! | 2017-03-12T10:29:56 | 2017-03-12T10:27:52 | 5,528 | 531 |
[WP]Your method of fighting crime is rather unorthodox. You expose all of the unseen flaws of a villain right in front of their eyes. You are Adam Conover, and this is Adam Ruins Everything.
Edit: Loving these! I think some of them got to the production team, too!
Also I am not Adam, though if you can't get enough of him he did an /r/iAMA yesterday!
Edit: not an ad | I smiled at him, my maniacal grin growing. I pointed my gun at his head.
"First, I'm going to strap you down, so tightly that you won't even be able to move. You're going to feel every second of going through that machine!" I said, laughing now.
"Unlikely." The man responded.
"*What?!*" I exclaimed. Why wasn't he scared? Everyone scared. Right up until that glorious moment when their screams finally die out...
"First off, it's highly doubtful that you would be able to put me in a position so secure I would be unable to move. I would likely retain some function of movement, even if it is just my toes." He said, sounding completely unafraid. "Unless, of course, you decide to freeze me. Which I doubt you would be able to do." He gave me a doubtful glance.
I stared at him.
"Secondly, I'm standing right here. How are you going to get me into that machine? I would put up resistance, and in order to get me there you would probably need some form of anesthesia. This isn't as easy as you think. While the statistical data for death by anesthesia is surprisingly low, around 1 in 100000, for an untrained professional, such as yourself, the rate is much much higher. It is possible if not probable I would die before I even felt an ounce of pain." He said, speaking without stopping.
"But," I managed to get in. "I can just-"
"Furthermore," He continued. "While it is possible for a human to lift double their weight, especially a trained one in a trained profession, such as firefighters, it is significantly more difficult for someone without any practice in technique or weightlifting to do so." He looked at me. "And clearly you are *very* out of practice."
I started to feel a little self conscious. This was just like high school. I started to feel confused, like I wanted to run.
"Finally." He said. "Considering that I have spent the time taking to secretly notify the police, it is certain that you will face an extremely long time in solitary confinement. Solitary confinement was invented by the Quakers, who used it as a punishment to force prisoners to spend the time reading the bible. But even they decided it was too harsh. The Supreme Court of the time said that prisoners either became violently insane, or committed suicide. Considering you are the first one already, it is probable you will take the second round. U.S Supreme Court, In Re Medley, 1890."
Blue and red flashing lights appeared outside, and a door was kicked down.
He started to walk out.
"And while for almost a century solitary confinement was stopped in the United States," He paused as a squadron of police officers burst into the room, guns trained on me. "Unfortunately for you, it was brought back."
"Enjoy your time!" He yelled back.
***
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| Adam Conover arrives at the scene of the United Nations. Every single member has been electrorcuted in their seat. There's no sign of an energy source. Adam scours the building looking for any clues. He has an intense feeling of being watched, like a deer being stalked in the woods. There's energy in the air. Adam plays along. He begins talking aloud, hoping to bait the killer. "Whoever did this was an amateur." Adam said. "Doom is no amateur, fool!" A voice said. Adam turned around to see Dr. Doom shifting into focus as he turns off his cloaking device.
Before he has a chance to say "Speaking in the third person is ridiculous." Adam is blasted with a bolt of green energy from Doom's gauntlet. Adam screams "At least my show wasn't cancelled!" as he fades away. Doom's loyal minion Kristoff runs toward his master. "What did you do to him, sire?" Kristoff said. "I sent him to the one universe so bizarrely skewed that it will surely drive him mad!" Doom said.
Adam awakens to find himself in a world much like ours but everyone looks like steroid addled muscle heads. A hulking mailman with a dozen pouches strapped to his belt hurries to Adam's side. "Are you okay, pal?" The mailman asked. "No! I-I've been sent to...The Liefeld Universe! Noooooooo!" | 2017-07-27T14:40:47 | 2017-07-27T14:22:59 | 757 | 93 |
[WP] As a henchman to the Joker, you've now broken the record for the longest surviving employee. This means you'll receive something no one ever has from him: your annual review. | One year ago today. One year since I saw Mr. J take out those corporate tools I worked with at the bank. When he wiped the smug smile off their faces and replaced it with a much... wider one. One year since I joined his organization.
Most of the assholes who followed him had stupid ideas of what his big plan was. The skin heads all talked about how he was going to cleanse the nation of "subhumans", the stoned out druggies thought he was going to tear down the government, but one by one I'd seen all of those assholes die, either in one of Mr. J's plans or just for opening their stupid mouths at the wrong time.
I knew better, I knew what he was planning all along and I kept my mouth shut and did what I was supposed to do. I relished watching the idiots try and fit his plans into their own narratives, until one by one they all died and here I was, watching from a few steps back as Mr. J surveyed the wreckage of the Wayne Manor burning below us.
I had been watching with mounting glee as yet another corporate tool burned in the pyre of his own opulence. Things like this had been so much easier since the Bat had disappeared last month. The rumors were that he'd finally been killed, but I didn't buy it. I figured whatever corporation that had been funding him to keep the status quo had just decided he wasn't worth the money anymore.
"You've been here quite a while huh?"
Oh shit, he's talking to me! Mr. J doesn't talk to any of us ever and he's actually talking to me! "U-uh, yes sir Mr. J. Been a year about now."
"You know who's burning down there?"
"That young corporate guy who had that stroke right? Newspaper said he fell over at a dinner someplace fancy." Crap I sound like a dumb thug from a comic book. Everyone knows him, Christ, he's been the subject of every news report for the last few weeks with the media practically blowing a load at the chance to "mourn" another trust fund baby even though he was still alive.
"... You know I don't think I've ever had someone last a year with me. I think a performance review might be in order."
Turning quickly he threw me to the ground before pouncing on me and presing his scalpel to my cheek.
"Now then, just one small question. A simple question for a simple man. What. Am. I. Doing?"
Terrified I could only stammer a weak and stupid "What?"
"You've been, as it were, here for it all. You've seen all my plans. What am I doing it all for? Review my performance for me here above this viking funeral" The blade of the scalpel seemed to caress my skin as he said this.
"You-you're eliminating corporate greed, you're gonna show those fat cats running everything that us little guys can.. AARRGH!" The blade turns from caress to a line of fire from one side of my mouth to my jaw. In a whisper he says. "Try again."
"But, that's what you've been doing right?" I struggle to talk, my face is on fire and my mouth keeps filling with blood. "Why else would you destroy everything, nothing else makes sense!"
The other side of my face explodes in pain and through it, I scream. "Closer that time, closer. You'll have plenty of time to think about it as those heal. Now if you'll excuse me.."
And with that he threw himself over me and down into the firey blaze below us. I can still hear him laughing as he fell into the waiting flames. It keeps me up at night. | Well. It's time.
I walked into his office. It was dark, the only light in the room was a spotlight on a chair in the middle. "Sit down." He said. I walked to the center and sat in the chair, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
I made it. A full year surviving under The Joker himself.
The room filled with light, and I saw The Joker and Harley Quinn sitting in front of me, popping confetti.
"Congratulations! You are my first low-level employee to reach a full year of work! That makes you employee of the year!"
"Thanks, Mr. Joker."
"However, one must think about how you made it this far. You were never the first to charge into battle for me, you never took night patrols, and you never went with me for our big hits. I really don't know, do you even work for me?"
"Of course I do, sir!"
"But do you really? Look behind you, that's your pay for this year."
Behind me was a considerable amount of cash, most certainly from robberies.
"I didn't know our pay was this high."
"Yes, it is. Blow it up."
"Excuse me?"
"Blow. It. Up. Show me that you care more about chaos than you care about money, show me that you are loyal to our cause. Blow it up."
"A-alright. How?"
Harley Quinn gave me a stick of dynamite and a matchbook. I went to the pile of cash and stuck the dynamite in it.
"Not like that! We're not Batman here, do it like you work for me and mean it. Throw it."
I ignited the dynamite and threw it into the pile. I missed.
"Come on, man. You had it. You could have done a year and a day, but you can't even throw a stick of dynamite right. I don't need you here. Get out."
I walked towards the door, fearing for my life, as a loud bang came from behind me. Before I could even register it, my brains were splattered all over the door, and my body fell down on the floor, lifeless. | 2016-11-20T23:18:48 | 2016-11-20T21:59:16 | 290 | 72 |
[WP] Hundreds of years ago an eccentric sorcerer turned all mythical creatures into humans to try and prevent them from being hunted to extinction. Now that the spell is starting to wear off, the descendants of the original beasts are slowly beginning to morph back into their true forms. | “You’re so sweet that I want to just eat you up,” Hailey gushed, nibbling playfully at Jeff’s ear.
Writhing in the sweat-stained sheets, he rolled his eyes but giggled. “Geez babe, you’re so sappy.” He kissed her forehead. “Goofball.”
“Guilty as charged,” she laughed, savoring the warm glow of love. Swirling her lustrous auburn hair, more magnificent than a horse’s mane, Hailey threw her arms around Jeff and lost herself in the bliss of his mouth.
Returning the kiss, he grabbed her by the wrist, eyebrows arching. “Wow, when’s the last time you cut your fingernails, babe?” he asked with a laugh as she released him.
With her free hand, Hailey gave Jeff a playful scratch on the shoulder. “So are you gonna buy me a manicure then? Mr. Manager can afford it now,” she joked.
“Pffffft. Sorry, you’ll have to put a ring on this before you spend my money. Besides babe, aren’t we all about equality and stuff?” A roguish, charming smile accompanied the little jab. Irresistible bastard!
An irrepressible grin spread over Hailey’s face. “Okay, Mr. Feminst, fir-”
“Oww! What the hell babe, your toenails are so sharp,” Jeff complained with a slight wince.
Slightly annoyed, she flushed. “Yeah, yeah, I get it already. Thought I trimmed them a few days ago; I probably just forgot.” Trying to recapture the relaxed tenderness she so treasured, Hailey snuggled closer to Jeff. “Don’t be such a big baby,” she pouted playfully with another nibble.
Something sweet filled her mouth. “Aaahh! What the fuck!!???” Jeff screamed, clutching his ear.
Blood ran down the corners of her lips.
“Oh come on, you know you like it rough,” Hailey rasped. Where had that thought come from? Her mouth watered with the intoxicating flavor of Jeff’s blood.
Eyes wide, he scrambled to the corner of the bed, white and shaking. She sprang to her feet, then collapsed to the ground with a snarl. Trembling with rage, Hailey tried to stand, once again falling to all fours. Thick, course auburn hair covered her new muscles.
She howled.
Now huddled in the far corner of the room, wielding her desk chair as both sword and shield, Jeff yelled. “Get away from me, you monster!”
Licking her fangs, Hailey laughed. “You’re so sweet that I want to just eat you up.” | [POEM]
Atop of a mountain, staff all a glow,
Made a promise to creatures above and below
A man dressed in silk who'd had an idea,
To change all the creatures to serve and adhere
He'd make them all bipeds and strangle their power,
Take evermoving tides and restrict them by hour
He'd change their thoughts from freedom to fear,
Choking all of their essence, collecting each tear
By the time they'd awaken, his plan would be set,
He'd have dreams fulfilled; all his needs would be met
The mountain would rise far above all their work,
Letting him relish their praises with all but a smirk
The reality was they'd never really be beaten,
Biding their time till the man could be eaten
For what was mere decades of suffering then?
When they got their revenge, who won in the end?
As he took a deep breath to utter the charm,
Understood the degree and level of harm
He waited a moment to truely reflect,
In a few hundred years he'd surely be dead
"It's not the for the journey on which you go,
But the destination you reach, that matters the most"
In nod and a wink mankind was created,
Their lives intertwined, their days ill-fated | 2019-10-09T11:38:11 | 2019-10-09T11:24:31 | 62 | 27 |
[WP] You hitchhike and get picked up by the Devil.
You're hitchhiking along a deserted road and the Devil is the only one to stop and pick you up. What's the Devil like? What sort of conversation do you have in the car? | "Y'know, I didn't expect to find a sympathetic ear for any of this," Mitch said, "least of all in the first car to drive by."
Rain battled the frantic wipers of the truck that had picked him up. Another hour of waiting outside for a ride and he would have died of hypothermia right on the side of the road. He clutched his damp bag closer to his chest and soaked in the warmth of the heater.
"Nor were you planning on talking about it I'm sure," said the truck driver.
Mitch frowned.
"Yeah, actually, sorry about unloading all that stuff on you," he said. "I just felt so suffocated. Like I was drowning. Like there was a weight around my ankles and I couldn't swim up out of my own life, y'know. My old man walked out on me when I was two and I grew up just fine, right. They'll be fine. They won't miss a thing."
"They'll be happier without you," said the man.
"Exactly, thank you!" Mitch laughed. "You mind if I smoke in here?"
The driver waved his hand.
"Be my guest," he said.
"Everyone loves to get all up in arms about it. I'm like, 'If I want to kill myself slowly, it's my damned life, I'll do as I please.' That was another thing with her: she hated my smoking."
"Everyone loves outrage," said the man.
"They do," Mitch nodded. "They get high off it."
They sat in silence for a good hour. Mitch smoked through half a pack. He offered some to the driver but the man refused. The highway seemed never-ending.
"There's no way I could go back now," Mitch said.
"Back to the same old routine?"
"Yeah," said Mitch. "I don't know. I didn't mean to walk out, y'know. I just needed to air out my thoughts."
"Yeah but how do you know you won't feel this way again," said the driver, "that you won't pick up and leave again and make them go through all of this all over. Better to just get it over with and move on with your life."
Mitch said nothing, cradling the bag stuffed with his things in his lap. He thought about his kid asking where he was and his wife lying to him. He thought about his wife wanting to throw something against the wall in the privacy of her room but refusing to waste her tears on the man that had walked out on them.
"They didn't deserve this," said Mitch.
His ears were hot. He wished he could step out in the rain for a moment but his clothes were just getting dry.
"Sure they didn't, but ask yourself this: Are they better off? What about what you deserve?"
Mitch was watching the wipers move up and down, the rain worming against the glass between each stroke, endlessly replaceable, overwhelming. He felt restless like he had left the gas on before leaving, but he was comfortable and warm and dry and his body was gliding away moment by moment from his old life.
"Sometimes we have to make hard decisions in life," said the driver.
"Sometime they're easier than you ever knew."
Mitch drummed his fingers on his bag and stared out at the rain.
By the time they reached the next town over the storm had subsided. Water dripped from every surface. Mitch climbed out of the truck, dry as a beach, and took a deep breath.
"I love the smell of rain," he said with a smile. "Thanks for everything."
"Glad to help," said the truck driver. "You take care now."
Mitch closed the door and watched the truck pull out of the motel parking lot and return to the highway. He slung his bag around his shoulder and walked towards the office, thinking already about the warm fresh sheets he would soon be sleeping in. | Finally, someone who stops. It's a beautiful matte grey '73 Mustang. I feel almost as if I'm tarnishing it by getting into it, luckily the smell of cigarettes covers up my body odour that I got from walking all day.
"I've been out here for hours" I tell him as he turns the radio down, some sort of screamo punk music playing. As soon as I tell him where I'm headed he cranks it back up.
"What's your name?" He says with a deep resonating voice. It's one of those voices you could listen to for hours.
"Chris," I tell him. "Yours?"
"Lou, yeah, Lou," he smiles. There's something very alluring about him. "You smoke."
It didn't sound like a question but I said 'yeah' in response. I'd run out of mine earlier in the day. He hands me one and as he does, our hands touch and I notice that his are piping hot.
"You ill? Your hand's boiling," I laugh as I say it, trying not to sound like I'm confronting him.
"Nah, just warm blood. It's a useful curse," He glances at me for a moment, trying to study me in more detail. "Chris, are you religious?"
"I, uh, I don't really know. Agnostic if anything," I stutter.
"Agnosticism isn't an answer, man, you either believe in the big guy or you don't." He speaks very bluntly, so much that I didn't think he was expecting me to answer.
"Are you religious, Lou?" I say.
"I used to be, I was kinda cast out from my local church. I had some falling out with the priest. I've tried to get back in a few times but I always get the same response where I get asked to leave. It's funny, for people who claim to love God, they sure do say some hurtful things when they think you can't hear them."
"You mind me asking what happened?" I'm beginning to like this guy, can you blame me when his voice and demeanor leave you clinging on his every word?
"It's all in the book of revelations," he replies calmly, then cranks up the screamo music even more and pushes the car forward to 110mph.
| 2014-01-22T16:15:50 | 2014-01-22T16:08:01 | 29 | 15 |
[WP] You have weird super power. If you successfully talk someone into doing something, they will succeed, regardless of if the action in question is actually possible. On the other hand, your abilities to actually persuade people are unaltered. | The man on the ledge reeked of old booze and stale vomit, enough for me to smell him from ten paces away. Not your typical drunk however, judging by the suit; a week or so ago, it had been a respectable business number, probably complete with a crisp shirt and a smart tie. I could see that the shirt lost a number of buttons since, and acquired questionable stains, and the tie went missing altogether.
"Don't. No closer. I'll jump. I'm not kidding." He winced and swayed as he spoke.
I shrugged and leaned against the roof access door.
"Suit yourself, partner. Jump. Or don't. You are not dying today."
"Wrong!" he swayed again. "I'll do it! We are fifty stories up, there's nothing anyone can do!.." Below, the Strip churned, shone, sparkled and blinked. Just another day in paradise.
"You don't understand. I... I thought I could stop. I *almost* stopped. I just... I needed... more..." For a moment I thought he'd start to whimper and back away from the ledge, and we could solve things quietly. No such luck however. He kept blabbing, the standard suicidal drivel of a gambling addict down on his luck.
"Hey!" I snapped my fingers and he stared at me wide-eyed. "Will you ever get on with it? So you fucked up. You ALWAYS fuck up. And you'll fuck this up too. Want to know what'll happen now? You'll jump. You'll fall fifty fucking stories, land on an empty car, ruin it, and walk away with one hell of a bruised ass and not a single broken bone. Get it? You're about to fuck up your own suicide. I'm not here to talk you out of it. I'm here to talk you *into* it, watch and fucking laugh."
He blinked slowly, once, twice.
"Fuck. You. You're crazy. What kind of a negotiator are you anyway?"
"I'm not. You see a badge anywhere? For all you know, I'm the tooth fairy. You know what's funny? You can't even stop yourself thinking about what I said just now, can you? You're gonna attempt suicide by jumping fifty stories, and you're gonna FUCK IT UP. All this to ruin some poor slob's car. C'mon then, loser. I got places to be."
"Fuck. You."
Credit where credit's due - he did not scream on the way down, or at least not so much that I could hear him. From below, came a distant thud and an indignant blare of a car alarm. I walked the ten paces to the ledge and peered over just in time to see him kneeling in the street next to a ruined cab, uniforms and paramedics rushing towards him.
The phone in my pocket trilled.
"Mahoney? We've got him. Come on down." | Over the years I have accomplished so much. When I first learned of my powers in high school I was not the best student. Constantly convincing friends to throw raging parties or jump their vehicles over things. They'd always be dumb enough to listen to my crazy ideas and we would always pull through it unscathed.
I've grown a lot since high school. In college after my friend was assaulted during a party I instigated I convinced him to go to the police. That everything would work out that the person would be caught and justice would be served. That he would heal. And that is what happened. It actually changed me helping him. Helped me move towards a life of helping people. A goal in college instead of partying.
I help those that have been hurt. Any kind of pain. I help them heal. All they have to do is listen and follow my instructions. Becoming a doctor has helped me convince them to listen. This is my power. This is my greatest strength. Why I was gifted with it will always baffle me but I will use it for the rest of my life for this purpose. My days of partying are behind me. I look into the mirror every single morning and tell myself just that. Guide them and they will be saved. Say whatever it takes to convince them. You will help them all. This is your gift. Use it. | 2017-06-21T12:23:26 | 2017-06-21T11:21:22 | 1,906 | 27 |
[WP] You're a misunderstood necromancer, with a passion for dance. You resorted to necromancy because you could never find a crew passionate or flexible enough to match your choreography. | *"Auditions will be held for America's Top Dance Crew in these areas! Please come out, bring your troupe we'd love to see you! Your crew could be the next big thing in Los Angeles!"*
I sighed and squeezed the remote to turn off the television. After rubbing my forehead for a moment, I lifted myself off the chair and trudged back to my desk, continuing to prepare my first major incantation. A puncturing with of lavender, spices, and rotten flesh stung my nose. *Let's get this over with.*
I lived in my family's mansion in Massachusetts, alone. Although it was unlike any mansion anyone has ever seen, it was a castle, complete with flagstone floors, corridors, and bedrooms. The walls themselves were cobblestone. We even had a turret at the corner of the house (where I had my desk of course).
*Those who can't do, teach... But who would ever hire a gray haired, wrinkly, beat up man to teach their kids how to dance?*
I sighed.
I was stuck with the life of necromancy, the only thing I knew how to do best. Which I was damn good at. It's how I could afford living in my family's mansion and paying the property taxes. I was a successful author for necromancy books. Yes, they were real spells and real curses, but most people who bought it didn't have "the gift" and if they did have it, there was no way they could acquire the materials that my family had owned for generations. It was practically harmless to reveal the secrets.
Grabbing the materials, I stepped outside in my backyard and performed the hardest summon I had ever done. I started off with my back straight and confident, but after I was done with the mutterings and slicing of objects, I was left shaken, covered in a layer of sweat, and drained of color in my face.
Skeletons clambered out from the ground. The bones which hadn't been awoken since my great-grandmother's last spell.
Ten of them marched over to me, with one of them leading the pack. *"Blood of the Zofarr family, we remain loyal to you and only you. What is your request?"*
My jaw dropped. "Sorry, I didn't expect you guys to talk. My great grandma wasn't alive to tell me what exactly happens when you all are summoned. I'm just working towards becoming a better necromancer, thought I would finally perform this spell to take my mind off things and get some pictures for the textbook."
*"We shall perform whatever it is you desire. Kill? Conquer? Destroy? We're proud to say we can do it all."*
"Dance?" I blurted.
Being skeletons they couldn't really react with emotion, all of their eyes were black holes and their teeth remained the same. I couldn't get a read on them.
*"You want us to dance for you?"*
"I can teach you," I pointed my finger in the air. "I know the ways!"
The skeletons all glanced at each other and shrugged collectively. *"I guess. Just so you know we can do things that are more complicated."*
"Yeah, sure, but just so you know, dancing is complicated. Come inside, let's see what you can do, I have a brilliant idea..."
This was fun, I liked this prompt. Here's a silly [part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/randallcooper/comments/gpd51m/wp_youre_a_misunderstood_necromancer_with_a/). :)
r/randallcooper | The skeletal obstruction of the living being could never be understood by those without a passion for the extraordinary. No matter how sinewy, no matter how strong, flexible or willing the dancer, nobody could match my grand vision.
With nothing left to lose, I turned to the death for help. That was no easy feat, mind you, I had to give up all that is dear to me to venture into the dreary world of the undead.
Stealing The Book of Shadows from the Royal Library had been my one and final act of retaliation against those unable to submit to my whims. Oh, I tried, believe me, with all kinds of creatures, monsters, humans and elves, but none of them came even close to swiveling their necks, craning their bodies or upending their legs in ways that satisfied me. They were all mortal and therefore, disposable.
As I got to opening the book, a kind of dark magic encircled me, overshadowing my vision and elevating me into the clouds, swirling me around, left than right, as if I were stationed on a rabid seesaw. Turning the pages, I uttered the necessary incantations and managed to land on my feet unscathed.
Mastering the book was a matter of patience and in no time, I was able to reinvigorate a graveyard back into existence. With my new army of the undead, I danced and cajoled in the dead grounds of those long gone, playing out orchestras of beautiful music and plays your eyes could never even imagine.
I was thought of as a lunatic, a crazy man that abandoned his humanity in return for nothing but black magic, but I knew that it was more than that, I was more than a voodoo trickster.
As my royal symphony conductor liked to remark: ''And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.'' | 2020-05-23T09:15:58 | 2020-05-23T08:50:21 | 146 | 18 |
[WP] You find three little puppies sleeping on your porch. Actually, upon closer inspection, it’s not three little puppies. It’s Cerberus, Hade’s three headed dog. The collar around the middle head reads, “Cerberus. If lost, please call Hell. (666-666-6666)” | "Hello! You have called the New England Customer Support for Hell!" the phone rattled.
"If you wish to discuss failed transactions, please hit one!" the overly-eager automaton screeched.
"If you are calling about a missed shipment to our offices, please hit two, if you are calling about a missed shipment *from* our offices, please hit *three*."
It was honestly starting to sound like a jingle at this point.
"If you would like to talk to us about a settlement with upper management, hit..."
I slammed four before the metallic wannabe salesman could finish.
"You have selected number four, please hold while we connect you to the appropriate party."
As I held the phone, perhaps two feet from my head, shaking with anger as the phone crooned the tune of Tom Jones' 'It's Not Unusual'. After perhaps, 45 seconds, the music stopped, and as I reached the phone to my head, I could hear a greeting I had come to hate.
"Hello, sir or mada..."
"STOP IT WITH THE FUCKING GREETINGS, IT'S MR. ARTS. YOUR MUTT'S AT MY DOOR AGAIN YOU ASSHOLE!"
He attempted to apologize over the tinny recorder.
"NO, I DON'T ACCEPT YOUR APOLOGY, YOU'RE A TERRIBLE DOG OWNER AND IT KEEPS GETTING OUT, IF YOU WANT TO BE SORRY, FUCKING FIX YOUR DOG!"
"Sir, calm down, and please do not refer to our collectors in such deroga..."
"I DON'T MEAN SHIT ABOUT YOUR FUCKIN' 'COLLECTERS'! I MEAN CERBERUS! THE ONE WITH THE THREE HEADS?! THE ONE THAT KEEPS GETTING OUT AND RUINING MY LAWN?!"
"Sir, I'm checking our employee records and I can't find any... Wait did you say Cerberus?"
"YES CERBERUS, DID YOU CONVENIENTLY FORGET ABOUT HIM?"
The third head started to lick my knee, as the first one sniffed my cargo shorts.
"Sir, are you calling for Hades?"
I paused a moment, before responding.
"What?"
"Well sir, this building and number were bought out by Hell Incorporated, it no longer belongs to Hades."
My heart skipped a beat. Hades? Gone? Why?
The phone seemed to (and probably did) read my mind.
"He fell behind on rent and got evicted, I believe."
Hades, gone. It hit me like a bag of bricks. As much as I hated the man, he was a pillar of the community. Director of the school-board, founder of the HOA and the Community Gardens, Hell, I remembered back when I was in Middle School, and he petitioned so strongly against closing public access to the Keenesquat river.
"Do you know where he is now?"
"No sir, we wouldn't have the infor..."
I shut off the phone.
I found myself, lost in thought, unable to fully comprehend what I'd just been told. It felt bad, I felt burned, and I knew nothing.
Then I felt drool running down my knee, as I looked down to see the second head, looking impatiently at me.
How long had he been gone? I wondered if he even was gone. But it felt like a foregone conclusion.
I scooped up the dog and looked into it's 6, sad, puppy dog eyes.
"Does a wittle puppy need some food?" I asked, in a moment of mild remorse for the yelling and the screeching.
And with an almost magical response, all three heads started barking like crazy. At first, I assumed I was angry at this betrayal, as I stomped over to my pantry, the dog(s) yapping incessantly behind me. Slowly, however, I realized as I turned around with a few slices a bread, that I was having fun for the first time since '98. I was happy, and I realized this dog(s) of Fire had melted my cold heart of steel.
| At first, I thought it was some kind of joke. Surely, HellCorp took better care of the new company dog? My town was nowhere near any Hell entry. The mere idea that Cerberus had escaped, *and* made it at least twenty miles away was insane. Whatever, I'd probably get some good money for this. He was priceless, not only because he was a three-headed dog, but also because he played a crucial role in Hell's advertising campaign for their new company, HellzPetz.
I picked Cerberus up gently and walked back into my house. The lights flickered and the windows vibrated momentarily then stopped. I picked up my phone and dialed the number. "Hello, HellCorp, how may I help you?" A silky voice replied. "Hi, I have your puppy here. Uh, Cerberus," I said. The voice on the other side remained silent for a few seconds, as if they were talking to someone over the receiver. Then, they finally answered. "Thank you for notifying us. Mr. Satan will be there to pick him up shortly."
Gee, Satan himself? That seemed a bit like overkill, but I was okay with it. It had been a boring evening anyways.
I walked back outside and sat on the porch. Sunset lit the sky. In the distance, to the East, there was black clouds, and a twister underneath. For a while, nothing much happened, except Cerberus awakening confused, burping fire, then falling asleep again. The black clouds and twister came closer and closer until, finally, a long black limousine came to a stop in front of my house, with a devil at the wheel.
Old sly Satan rolled down the window, and yelled out, in his gravelly, fire breathing voice, "There you are, you son of a bitch!" He laugh coughed, Purgatorian cigar in mouth, and motioned with his hand. The puppy suddenly floated into the air, through the window, and onto Satan's lap. He petted him, then looked at me. "Thanks, kid. Here you go," he said, reaching inside the car then throwing a bag onto the ground in front of me.
The car zoomed off before I could reply. I grabbed the bag and looked inside. Inside were five hundred grand, a card that said 'Thanks :)', and an infernal contract informing me HellCorp now owned my soul.
Okay then.
| 2018-08-08T14:33:43 | 2018-08-08T12:07:07 | 54 | 27 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | I’m lying in a bed on a tuesday night.
And I’m having restless dreams.
And then I awake from a story where I’m rescuing a princess from a wheel of cheese. Because there’s a chainsaw on my nightstand.
A groggy hand reaches over and slaps it reluctantly. Is it morning...a alarm? Some long lost love looking for luscious life-experiences? But no… a text message. Is it my wife? Will she be late tonight?
“DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON”
So I make a curious eye sweep of the room. I pause at my window, where the forbidden object lies, and return my gaze in the opposite direction.
Nothing.
So, eyes squeezed shut, I walk over to the window. Just in case. I have a moment of panic when I trip on a errant pair of pants, but I right myself quickly. Then, in a fleeting, fluttering, futile gesture, I bravely bring down the blinds.
With that dangerous task complete, I sprint back to my bed, as if its covers will protect me from whatever has infested the sky.
Perhaps it’s just a joke, or the product of a overtaxed imagination. But somehow I know to be afraid.
Buzz.
Another a text? More instructions? Is there something else I’m not supposed to look at?
It’s from a old coworker. A good friend.
“It’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.”
I peek out from beneath my blanket bastion. A windows shuttered and silent. A door, barely open, with a crooked mouth along its length, mocking me.
Should I close it? No. Too dangerous. So I close my eyes and whisper.
“Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream.”
Buzz.
Another text message. Perhaps I shouldn’t…
“It’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.” from my best man.
Then a bing. A different app, I have so many.
“It’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.”
And then my phone begins to shake and chatter, with bings and chimes and whistles. Each one is like a stab in my stomach. What’s happening? What’s happening?
Then bit by bit, the phone sounds die out.
Then a new sound. A ringing. A bold, unique choice for a ringtone in this day and age, but I’ve always been a trend setter.
It’s my wife. Is she safe? Does she know what’s happening?
And before I can catch myself, I hit the answer button.
(Part 1? Sorry for a cliffhanger, it was getting long)
(r/StannisTheAmish)
| I blearily attempted to focus my eyes on my phone as its notification sound went off repeatedly. I had just managed to get to a comfortable position and doze for a good hour before my phone decided to freak out, and I was none too happy.
One government alert that read "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON", followed by 600 messages from numbers I didn't recognize spouting some nonsense about how it was a beautiful night.
"Don't look at the moon", I said. "Good advice." I turned off my phone, rolled over, and drifted back to sleep.
The next day, I was stunned to discover the horrible truth of what those messages were really about: a guerilla marketing stunt by Sony Pictures for some stupid horror movie about a moon cult using cell phones to murder people. Unfortunately, it had caused a "War of the Worlds"-type panic, and the resulting lawsuits all but obliterated the studio. But on the plus side, the rights to Spider-Man defaulted over to Marvel Studios and now there could never be a Pixels 2, so it was all kind of a wash in the end. | 2022-05-11T14:02:28 | 2018-04-06T22:12:43 | 314 | 14 |
[WP] While an alien vessel orbits Earth, a message is broadcasted. "Hello fellow universe dwellers. He are Humans from a planet we call Earth. We come in peace". The message is in plain English. | \[Ambassador of Truth\]
"We are just as honored to host your delegation," the president replied with a firm handshake. He stood in the oval office, surrounded by armed guards, to welcome the alien delegation. It consisted of one formally dressed ambassador with his own bodyguard. The ambassador was dressed in a very human black suit and tie; the bodyguard's outfit was far more casual. She wore faded blue jeans with large holes at the knees and an orange t-shirt. The spider tattoo with the number 33 on her arm only added to her unprofessional appearance. Her youthful, tan complexion compared to the ambassador's salt and pepper hair made her look like his daughter.
"One of many," the ambassador reminded the president. "We bring gifts of knowledge for the entire world, not just any one country."
"Of course," The president smiled and gestured at the chairs in front of his desk, then sat in his own tall chair. "Though I must say, Ambassador. You don't seem surprised that we look and sound like you. We call ourselves humans too," the president said. The ambassador nodded.
"This is the secret of the universe; the knowledge we bring to your Earth. From our Earth, and the dozens that we've visited so far. There are no aliens in the depths of space. Only more humans on more Earths." The president sat up straighter in his chair.
"Other Earths. Do you mean alternate universes?" he asked. The ambassador nodded.
"The multiverse is the next frontier. And if humanity is going to tame it, we all need to work together in every universe. That's our mission; that's my goal here."
"Does this shared knowledge include the information to create our own starship?" the president asked. The ambassador tilted his head.
"I guess?" he said. "You'll learn about all the technologies we used to put it together, but it's really just for show. It's an attention-getter but I suppose you can build one if you really want to."
"An attention-getter? Don't you use it to travel between universes and among the stars?"
"Not at all," the ambassador shook his head. "Traversing universes is ridiculously easy and there's no reason to travel among the stars."
"No reason?" The president asked. "There are infinite reasons! Who knows what's out there undiscovered?"
"I told you earlier, Mr. President. The only thing out there is more humans on more Earths. As it is, if you stray too far from Earth, you just end up [next to another one](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9h9mmf/wp_youre_the_first_person_to_enter_a_black_hole/)."
"What? That's impossible," the president said. "There's so much space out there. Stars and planets... and you're saying they're all empty?"
"Not at all," the ambassador said. "I'm saying they don't exist."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1244 in a row. (Story #148 in year four.) You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit (r/hugoverse) or my blog. | Many clever theories were put forward by the top men and women of their field. The first was that the entire thing was a prank, some childish billionaire trying to manipulate the stock market. As it became clearer the aliens were in fact real other ideas spewed forth over the internet. Ranging from " they have been watching us but have not learnt English properly and so are just kind of having a go to they have traveled through space hit a black hole and warped here from an alternate dimension.
In truth the answer was far more mundane and, well, human. God was lazy. He only wanted to write one book and rather than make a story for each planet with individual geography and a wide range of species he just copied and pasted each world over and over again. We should have seen it coming really. Even humans aren't original they are just copies of God without the divinity.
Once the shock and disappointment of this wore off on both sides we began to compare histories and see if we could determine why they had managed interplanetary travel while we lagged behind.
Historians were having conniptions. Not only were they now justified to dig into the minutia of history but they got to rub in in the sciences face.
After years of back and forth keeping notes on notes on hard-drives and and hardrives and running it through super computers and super-duper computers they came to the conclusion "sometimes things are just a bit different"
They all would be shocked to learn that the difference was a caveman called Smola in one world called his brother " a fucking mud eating shit head" and in another called him " a fucking mud eating shit face". Noone would ever know and if they did would not believe. On another planet Smola told his brother he was mildly annoyed and he would like to talk the issue over so it doesn't happen again and funnily enough that world ended up destroying itself in nuclear war the very first chance it got. | 2021-05-28T09:37:38 | 2021-05-28T05:01:16 | 42 | 31 |
[WP] One day, you find a note in your breakfast; one of the guards knows you're innocent and is going to try to help you escape. You aren't innocent. | Julia came running from the kitchen with a beer in hand and an eager kiss as soon as I walked through the door. "How was your day, honey?" Seeing her broad, always-eager smile every day after work was the only thing that made it all worth it.
"Fine," I answered, dropping my belt on the couch and sweeping her off her feet with a big hug. "Everything is *still* on lockdown after the jailbreak." Julia knew all about it, of course: even if she hadn't been the wife of a guard, she would have seen it on the news. It was the first ever escape from the Lewiston Maximum Security facility, and the administration was determined to make it the last. Prisoners weren't even allowed to *move* until they figured out exactly how Daryl Meyers was able to get away. And the screams from the warden's office from prisoners being 'questioned' were starting to become unbearable.
"I'm sorry, baby," she told me. "Does that mean you need to work another shift tonight?"
I nodded, and she looked crushed. She regretfully tried to hide the beer behind her back, knowing I wouldn't be able to have any if I was going back on duty tonight. It'd been doubles all week and I'd hardly had any time to spend at home. I wasn't complaining about the overtime pay, though. Having a child turned out to be a lot more expensive than we thought it would be, and that was before we learned about Sammy's condition. We loved her all the same, but that didn't make her treatment any less expensive.
"How long do you have off? Enough time for a good meal?" I'd been smelling whatever she was making since I walked through the door, and my stomach was already rumbling in anticipation.
I checked my watch. The ten minute commute home now took 45 minutes; I'd had to pass through two state police checkpoints who had gone through all the junk in my back seat to make sure that Meyers wasn't hiding in there. "I've got about an hour," I answered. Hopefully traffic going back to the prison wouldn't be bad; no need to check any cars going that way.
"God, I hope they catch that guy soon," she called out as I slumped down into my easy chair. "And I hope that they throw the book at him."
I stayed silent. Julia didn't know about my part in this whole escapade, and I sure as hell wasn't going to tell her. How could I? There was no way to convince her that he was wrongly imprisoned. She couldn't meet him and just *feel* that same sincerity that I'd felt. Poor guy was practically trembling as I showed him to his cell. Prison would have chewed him up like a stick of gum. So I did what I had to do. And the less that Julia knew about it, the better. I'd heard a rumor that they already suspected a guard. They were looking for anyone that might have ties to his supposed cartel, which luckily wouldn't bring up my name.
"By the way," she called from the kitchen, "You got a box in the mail. Did you order something online?"
I took a moment to think about it. After working so many hours and dealing with the constant stress of potentially being caught, my brain was just fried. *Had* I ordered something? "Where is it?" I asked her.
"On the bed. But I didn't want to open it in case it was... you know, a surprise." Our fifth anniversary was coming up in about two weeks, and I couldn't blame her for jumping to that conclusion. She'd probably be pretty disappointed when she learned that we probably couldn't even afford to go out to dinner, much less some expensive present.
I managed to heave myself up from my chair and walked down the hall. After a quick pitstop to check on Sammy sleeping in her crib, I entered our room. The box was indeed pretty large. I certainly would have remembered ordering whatever this was. I cut through the tape with my keys and found a greeting card envelope on top.
"Tom," the note started, "You'll never know how much I appreciate your faith in me. You're the only person who doesn't look at me and immediately despise me. You didn't let my reputation cloud your judgment, and it was honestly the only thing that kept me going these past few months."
My hands were shaking, and my eyes darted back down the hall to make sure Julia wasn't coming. How *stupid* was he? How could he *send me a letter?* I'd have to burn it, right after I finished reading it.
"Unfortunately, you were wrong. I am everything that they accuse me of being. And I accept that. I'm a bad person."
My stomach sank. I couldn't breath.
"But luckily for you, I'm also a pretty fair guy. One good turn deserves another. Go ahead and open the box before you turn this card over."
This was terrible. This was *evidence*. But I couldn't help but unwrap the present. It was a framed picture of some tropical island, which didn't make any sense.
"It's yours," the letter said. "The island is called Isla Duvala, and there's a plane waiting at the airport for you and your family. I've assigned a doctor from my own personal staff to the island for Sammy, and the Castro government has assured me that extradition isn't even a possibility. You'll have everything you ever need, I promise. You gave me another chance at life, and it's only fair that I do the same for you."
I sat back down on the bed, still clutching the letter in one hand and the picture frame in the other.
"Can I come in?" Julia asked from the kitchen. She still thought it was an anniversary gift. She certainly deserved one, that's for sure. She deserved her own private island.
"Yes," I answered her. "In fact, I need you to pack a bag. And one for Sammy, too." | I tasted plastic in my mouth after only a few bites into my plain, ham and cheese sandwich. My nose curled involuntarily at the texture of it. "Seriously." I muttered, the cooks were too lazy to unwrap their cheese now?
Reaching into my mouth I grasped the plastic and removed it. A casual flick, meant to send the offending object across the cell floor ended with it stuck to my fingers. I noticed the tiny letters as I looked towards it in annoyance.
*Two days. 4am.*
That was all it said, but it was enough. I had noticed the lingering eyes of one of the guard for months now. I was easily the most beautiful girl in this facility so her attraction was no surprise other than being unwelcome. So I had ignored her out of disgust tinged with a bit of hatred over her own somewhat stunning looks.
At least until a few weeks ago when she had whispered in my ear in passing. "I know you're innocent, I'm getting you out." Amber said. Before knocking me to the floor and claiming I had reached for her gun.
They had left me stuck in my cell for weeks after that, barely allowing me to come out and shower. My luxurious blonde hair was suffering from the treatment. Then the note showed up.
The next two days passed in a blur. When Amber showed up outside my cell two days later, out of uniform, and right on time I couldn't hide my surprise. Thankfully the surprise outdid my sneer of envy over her looks. How dare she show up to rescue me looking like a supermodel while I was stuck in these rags?
"Let's go." She said, throwing my cell door opened.
I frowned as I stepped out into the hall. "Where's the getaway tunnel?" I asked, confused.
"You watch too many movies." Amber responded with a small smile before grabbing my arm. She led me corridors I hadn't even seen before we wound up in the kitchen. As we passed through it I grabbed a steak knife from the counter before tucking it away. Never know when you may need a weapon.
Amber spoke up again as we walked. "I know you didn't kill those women Lydia. After watching you for these last several months I'm certain that's not something you're capable of."
I stayed quite while she all but sang my praises, wondering if I was dreaming. Of course I had been a model prisoner, there was no one in the facility who threatened me. "Until now anyway." I muttered, staring at her swishing dark hair.
"What was that?"
"Oh nothing." I said sweetly. "I think I'm in shock is all."
Amber turned to deliver a breathtaking smile that was probably meant to reassure. As she turned back around I could feel my short nails biting into my palm and forced myself to relax. *Just get out of here for now Lydia.*
Within minutes the winding corridors ended and we were walking down a straight hallway towards a door with a softly glowing exit sign above it. "Stop!" I hissed urgently but Amber kept going, evading my grip as I reached out to grab her. "We're going to set off an alarm."
Wordlessly she opened the door and right outside was open air and a somewhat foggy night sky. I stared dumbfounded up at the moon. I was really out of that place. In front of us was a generic SUV.
"Here." Amber said, pulling me from my daze and holding a set of keys which I quickly snatched from her. She walked in front of me and spread her arms. "You're free Lydia."
"What about you?" I asked hesitantly. She still stood facing out into the night.
"I'll make it out of this somehow. I'm a survivor." Amber said confidently and I felt a small smile form on my face. We were just alike in that regard.
Grasping the knife still at my back I walked up behind her and ripped my blade through her throat. Easily going from ear to ear except where I hit bone around her windpipe. Nothing came out but a gurgle as she tried to speak but my imagination supplied her words.
"But....you were innocent." Imaginary Amber said as the real one fell to the floor grasping her throat. Her life quickly flowing from the wound.
"No." I answered the figment. "I'm not. And I hate beautiful bitches." | 2015-12-13T10:36:48 | 2015-12-13T10:19:00 | 203 | 45 |
[WP] It turns out humanity was the first, and only spacefaring species to master the atom. After a horrific galactic war, humanity had to bring out its nuclear weapons, to the shock and horror of the rest of the galaxy. | Gabriel knew his name would become synonymous with traitor. But really, what did it matter? Better to be a traitor than to be subservient to madmen, or to look the other way as the galactic genocide continued. On the ship's holographic screen, the tiny pinprick of the green planet was growing -- a grassy blade slowly becoming a hillock.
He'd been a soldier once-upon-a-time. Back before wisps of grey hair had strangled his natural blond. Before the pain arrived that squeezed his back each time he leaned over the ship's dashboard. Before the Totanians had been wiped clean from their planet that was now a charred ball of black -- a radiated graveyard of a once-great species.
Gabriel had been one of the first to sign-up when the war had broken out. Five civilizations battling for control of this sector of space -- as if the empty blackness contained any meaning at all, anything worthwhile. It wasn't even a barren no-man's land they'd been fighting over... it was literally *nothing*.
Supply and mining ships on their way from Earth to a new colony in the Betelgeuse system had gotten caught in the war's crossfire. That had forced the Solar Alliance -- and Gabriel -- into the fray.
It was strange, thinking back, how glitzy and glamourous a war in space had once sounded. Like those old films he'd watched growing up. Men charging out of fox-holes and bunkers and sticking a flag down in the liberated land. But by the end of the first year of the Solar Alliance's involvement, all of Gabriel's friends in the corps had been killed, their ships annihilated.
Their deaths had been the first pang of guilt to swell in his stomach. Why had Gabriel had survived and they hadn't? What was the purpose of his living while those around him died? -- He felt like there had to be a greater reason for each dogfight he survived.
When the Committee had voted to do something that would have seemed unbelievable only a year before, Gabriel had nodded, silently. The right choice. It would end the war early -- and there would be fewer casualties in the end.
The war between the civs had historically been fought in space and *only* in space. That was the way of the galaxy -- few civilians could be killed if there was no war on a planet's surface.
Humanity changed the rules.
"We deliver a couple of little parcels," his commander had told him, "onto one or two of the planets, and that's it. Game over. We've then done what they couldn't achieve in a thousand fucking years."
Gabriel had believed it. None of the other species had developed nukes... And once they saw the destruction, the fiery mushroom hell that only humans could deliver... That would be the end of all war forever. They would bow. And yes, humanity would have done something bad -- something terrible, even. But for the right reasons and for a just cause.
Only it hadn't been that simple.
Never was, Gabriel figured.
The 'green planet' careened into view. That had been its nickname back when it had been pristine. Now it was a smoldering muddy wreck, cratered and barely habitable. Not green anymore.
A ship orbited the planet -- twenty-times the size of Gabriel's one-man craft.
"Greetings, Gabriel Launder," crackled a voice over his intercom. "You may dock when you're ready."
Could he really do this?
The problem with the nukes had been first been demonstrated on Totania. Yes, they had inflicted the damage the Solar Alliance had intended. But the Totanians didn't just throw their hands up and surrender, as had been predicted.
They didn't surrender after a hundred nukes had fallen. Not even after a thousand.
They had *never* given up.
Not until the very last one of them had screamed into a fiery nothingness.
Every species involved in the war was proud -- and rightfully so. And they were all sickened by what the Solar Alliance had done. None would surrender to such a callous race of beings.
In time, Gabriel had been sickened, too. These weren't fighters or warriors they were bombing. These were children and parents and teachers and all the things he kept precious in his sugar-coated recollections of his own childhood.
The bombings were still happening. The galaxy-wide cleansing. It would continue until humanity was the final space-faring species in the galaxy.
Unless he did this.
Unless he gave them all the secrets of the atom.
Because the only kind of destruction humans ever respected, was mutual.
"I'm ready to dock," said Gabriel.
---
I raced my regular co-writer Ecstatic to write for this. I don't want to say hers was faster and better, but... :) If you enjoyed either /r/nickofstatic has lots of serials by both of us :) | ## Incoming signal transfer:
#### Greeting:
We are the Yole. This is a message to all who may hear us. Beware of sector X4-42. Pulsar coordinates attached.
#### Message:
We hereby declare the described system as off limits and extremely hostile. Contamination to surrounding systems probable. Probes in affected regions are reporting continuously. Interrupting operation is considered a hostile act and will be met by immediate termination.
#### Explanation:
Local lifeforms, even though considered primitive by Yole standards, developed energy conversion technologies that are restricted in all of federation space. We decided long ago, that transformations of this kind are only to be harvested if created by the universe itself.
The most advanced lifeform reacted violently after harvesting of system planets was initiated. Received signals were ignored as there was no need for communication. Initial defense was deemed sufficient and no retaliation was initiated. Encountered offensive technologies include kinetic projectiles, concentrated photonic rays and various types of carriers with proximity, direct or delayed combustion.
All approaching vessels began to retreat to their point of origin when attacks showed no effect on us. Reasons for this maneuver were unclear at first but speculations were regarded as a waste of time, as such inconsistent and erratic behaviour is to be expected from primitive lifeforms.
Shortly after all major vessels were out of detection range, carriers again started to approach. These were launched from planetary sites. Bigger payloads was the most probable reason, though ships were encountered beforehand that could've easily transported these. Carriers were ignored and operations continued as expected. No further vessels were detected.
Further background analysis signaled unknown technology. All operations were halted. Extractor was repositioned in orbit to intercept, capture and analyse further. It was an unprecedented case of a primitive lifeform with technology unknown to the Yole. Immediate messages were send to fleets in surrounding systems.
All communication soon ceased with the extractor fleet. Attached is the last message from a surveyor ship in orbit around a close by gas giant.
#### partial declassified message:
..inished surveying the gas giant for possible extraction in the future. I am curious as to what the unknown technology is, that the "humans" send us. Initial scans show similarities to carriers seen before. Further analysis halted - penetrating extractor hull is practically impossible. I assume their sensor arrays are way better than mine anyway. I expect a "situation as normal" over the comms anyw... The extractor seems to... glow? Analysing...
This... this is impossible. The extractor is practically gone now. Not a single part of it can be considered intact. The glow did not stop and was soon several magnitudes brighter than the local star but stopped as instantly as it started. There is no way this lifeform could develop... The signature of this "explosion" matched very closely to something we see every day. Our star. This would mean they developed atomic energy conversion. Such a primitive lifeform.. developing fusion? There is just no way. It must mean that one of our enemies helped them. Computer stop recording and send everything about this event to the council and all ships in surrounding systems.
\---
An investigation into all forces considered hostile to the Yole is underway. Any further contact to the highly aggressive lifeform is considered a crime against every federation member and is met by immediate termination. | 2022-12-15T08:44:27 | 2019-12-19T03:48:19 | 431 | 85 |
[WP] You are a wish lawyer. You help clients negotiate wishes from genies, faeries, dragons, and other wish granting entities.
You also do faustian bargains with devil
Edit: Woo! I finally made it to the top of writing prompts! | "I will tell you one more time. You can't wish for three more wishes. It against the rules."
Garland looked back at me and squinted his eyes, and I imagined a mouse on a running wheel just behind his face, furiously running up the incline in order to power up enough thought waves to come up with another wish while simultaneously doing the eye squint thing.
"Also, you can't wish for two more wishes, or seven more wishes, or infinite wishes, or whatever. You have exactly one wish left," I said.
"Since when? How come I can't wish for twenty more wishes?"
I sighed, but the history of the *Get What You Get Act* of 2024 rolled of my tongue easily, almost muscle memory by this point, like taking a free throw or navigating the darkened path to the bathroom from the foot of your bed.
"In 2021, Sampson Dolio was granted three wishes by an astral projection known as AS-39\*1\^. Dolio had freed AS-39\*1\^ after uncorking a third century canteen he'd found while metal detecting a suspected Roman battlefield. As a member of several dimensions, AS-39\*1\^ was a very capable wish granter, much more potent than most."
"Wait. What? Some wishes are better than others?"
*Hadn't this guy ever watched Wishmaker / Wishtaker 2.0? "*It is about implementation, mainly, Garland. AS-39\*1\^? If you asked him for ten million euro, it would be in your bank as a lottery winning you forgot you bought a ticket for. Others wish granters might give you twenty million half euro coins that fell out of an airplane. On top of you."
"How good was my guy?
I scrolled through his file on my socket. "He's got a B minus rating," I said, flicking my pupils left and right to scroll the history.
"A fucking B minus?" Garland was incredulous.
"Well, you did find him by opening an 1992 bottle of Mountain Dew, right? " I looked at Garland. "What did you expect?" Not waiting for a response, I continued, "In any case, it looks like one time a guy asked for a specific girl, but someone *else* already had wished for her, so he wound up making a clone. But then the clones fell in love and left both men. It doesn't say if the men fell in love or not."
"Who cares if the dudes fell in love?" He stammered for a while, clearly still upset about his wishmakers poor rating. "You still haven't told me why I can't wish for more wishes."
"Right," I said, continuing, "Sampson Dolio wished that he could think about taking an action, and then see the future of what would happen if he took that action. *Poof!*" I said, splaying my fingers out. "And then, Dolio told AS-39\*1\^? to hold on, he was going to look at the future and see what happened if he asked for infinite wishes. Dolio stood in the grassy field, eyes blank for two minutes, head lolled back. When he came to, his face was ashen, his eyes having seen something terrible, and he immediately said: 'I wish that no one, ever, under any circumstance, can get extra wishes. As my other, final wish, I wish that no one can undo the changes you made limiting the number of wishes a person may be granted.' And so, AS-39\*1\^? folded the necessary barriers into the time-space-etheral threads to disallow granting more wishes. It was formally passed into law a year later, but the laws of the time-space-etheral continuum are less malleable than Congress, there isn't a Supreme Court case that is going to change things."
"What did Dolio see?" Garland asked me.
That was actually a subject of quite vigorous debate among those of us in the wish business. "Well, no one knows for sure. Any time someone wants to interview him, he isn't there, Dolio had thought about what would happen if he went for coffee, or opened the door, or went to work, and saw that a reporter or curious interviewer would be there, so he took a different course. But he must have seen *something*."
"Well, what happened to him?"
"He's doing pretty good," I said. "He thought about what would happen if he bet on black on roulette a few hundred times, I think. After that, who knows."
"OK," Garland said. "Fuck." I waited, watching the running wheel spin in his mind. Lots of people took their time with their final wish. "I wish," he started. "Fuck. Wait." His foot started tapping like a dog chasing a rabbit in it's sleep. I scrolled through the news feed in socket while he thought about it. "Pizza?" he said to himself. *Was this guy about to wish for fucking pizza?* The news continued to scroll past.
"OK. OK." Garland finally said. "I wish for exactly the same power that Sampson Dolio had, the ability to think about taking an action, and then seeing the future that happens if I take that action." I held out the tablet and he mashed his thumb into the screen before he could take anything back.
He grinned wildly. "Hold on. Lemme see what would have happened if I had been able to give myself infinity wishes." I killed the newsfeed and watched as his face went slack. A hundred seconds later, he was back, but looked shaken. We both looked at each other silently. *What had he seen?*
Finally, Garland spoke. "Well. Off to Vegas," he said, standing.
"Wait," I said urgently. "What happened?"
Garland looked at me from the doorway. "Hold on, let me see what would happen if I told you the truth, the whole truth about what I saw." He went stiff for two breaths. "Well, trust me when I tell you that I am doing you a favor by keeping you in the dark. There are some questions that you don't want the answer to." | I don't know when this will find you, or if you will even be able to comprehend it, but I have an answer to a question that I know you have asked. I just don't think you'll like the answer
You see, where I come from, wishes are commonplace. You want money, immortality, power. Easy, just find a "granter" and it's yours. The problem, it's never just that easy.
No one knows why, but granters always twist your wish. They must get something out of it, but figuring that out is someone else's job. My job, is to make sure that those crazy enough to make a wish, get exactly what they want. I'm a wish lawyer.
When the granters first showed up. People just made wishes and many of them died. No one got what they wanted, but the wisher was the only one ever punished.
After a while, people got careful. Less wishes, and more carefully worded wishes. That gave rise to my profession. A new form of "legalese" was developed. Things we hadn't thought about before.
For example, did you know there are at least five different types of immortality. Health can mean just about anything. Don't get me started on money. People being more careful seemed like a good idea at the time. That started being questioned when the first person to make a perfect wish for money had his wish granted.
Money is useless now. Any form of currency developed is instantly devalued to worthlessness. Any valuable material used as a common vehicle of trade loses the property that makes it valuable. That's why catalytic converter stopped working.
Even the most perfect wish has a loophole and the more careful the wish, the more damaging the loophole. Thanks to that, we agreed to build a flaw into each wish. One we could control. That seemed to make the granters happy.
The problem was that they didn't always take the loophole we gave them. That's how the world marched inevitabley towards its current state. A hellscape with wishes being the only thing to grant a small reprieve before making things worse.
You see, the world is addicted to wishes. Living for the high, no longer caring that the very high it desires is what brings its destruction inexorably closer.
Seeing that, a brilliant man hired me to save us wish one wish. A wish for a wold without wishes. A challenge to be sure, but it was the only wish that could save our world. First, was the obvious paradox clause. Then we had to make sure the world would be habitable and inhabited by all the denizens of our world. The list was long. It took an hour to recite in our trials.
Then we had to find the right granter. You see, they aren't a monolith. They have their own personalities. Some are mean, some are kind. This makes me think they are here under the direction of some even higher power, but again, that's not my job.
We found it on the beach of Madagascar. A small dragon like creature with a slight yellow glow. My client began to read. Flipping from one page to the next for an hour and a half, and the dragon listened dutifully.
At the end, there was a flash, and a loud bang. When our sight returned, the dragons glow was nearly gone.
"It has been done as you described"
Nothing was different. We were both on the beach, and the dragon was still there, waiting.
"Did it work?" Asked my client.
"Why don't you find out." Replied the dragon.
Before I could consult, my client made another wish.
"I wish it worked"
Clever. He didn't just throw out any wish. The problem was, he was too confident in his first wish, and was vague. The now working firearm in his pocket went off. It had been a simple pen, but that is why you don't make vague wishes. The doctors say he may survive.
The dragons glow returned and I stammered out a question, then a request. Not a wish, a request. I was very clear about that over 5 minutes it took for the paramedics to arrive.
"What went wrong?"
It turns out one key part of the wish contract was missed. A small, but critical sentence, at the end of a long paragraph, at the end of a page.
"He never said he wanted it to be this world."
The request is, well, this. Every civilization eventually wants to know where they came from. I don't know how these words will find you, but this is where you came from. If you ever make a wish and hope it comes true, hope harder that it doesn't.
PS. If you ever leave your world. Look for me. I'll be the dragon with the yellow glow, enjoying the sun, the surf, and the sand. | 2018-07-18T16:47:06 | 2018-07-18T16:09:04 | 24 | 12 |
[WP] Dear diary, I’ve been feeding this creature that fell from the sky for a few days. It strangely likes to drink water, the liquid we use to fuel cars. I noticed a patch on its suit today that read “NASA”. I’ll ask it tomorrow what that means. If that’s it’s name. | Dear Diary,
I finally gathered the courage to ask the creature what the symbols "NASA" was. While it was drinking the daily water (I still can't get over it... water! Who drinks water?!), I pointed to its suit.
I asked, "what does that say?"
It didn't understand me at first, not until I used three of my hands to specify the small patch on its suit.
It made a sound that sounded like it came from its nose, all elongated vowels like "naaaaah saaaaah". It's strange, but I found it kind of pleasing to the soundorifices. But what was most surprising was that the creature spoke *from its mouth*! I guess it's not advanced enough to understand telepathy yet. No wonder it didn't understand my question!
After I asked, Nasa spoke a whole gaggle of syllables! It was so cool to listen to, like smooth marbles rolling in the mouth. I don't know what it was telling me, but I think this means that it trusts me now. It must be hard to know who to trust when you only have two eyes. I wonder how their species survives.
Don't tell Mom but when I came home, I tried making sounds with my mouth too. The vibrations of my voice tickled my throat. I didn't sound as nice as Nasa. My voice was thick and gravelly, like rocks crunching against each other. I don't see how I could keep this up for a whole conversation. Wouldn't my throat go raw from use?
It's better that I stick with telepathy. There's a reason we evolved to use it.
\*\*\*
Dear Diary,
I went to visit Nasa again today. It lives in its ship, a long thin strip of metal. It could barely fit two Parqons in there. I'd never seen a ship so small before, except maybe to transport home deliveries. How did Nasa travel here in it? Where did Nasa even travel from? I wish I could talk to it.
I tried asking it where it was from, but it didn't understand me. Just gobbled the water down in two quick gulps. I could see it travel down Nasa's throat! So weird! Like a little snakeworm wiggling inside. What if there is a snakeworm in there? That happened to my canispup once. You could see the wiggling dots in its poop. Mom insisted we give him away after that...
Nasa tried to ask me something, but I can't understand her garbled language. There are too many sounds and they slip and slide all over each other. It's hard to distinguish where a word starts and ends.
It pointed to itself and made a sound like "Sin-dee" then it pointed to me and waited. It did this a few times, and I think it was asking for my name. I guess Sindee is its actual name! So, I still don't know what Nasa is. Maybe it's the planet Sindee's from.
I tried to tell Sindee that I'm Qilyer. I still don't think I can get used to the noise coming from my mouth. I think Sindee understood, though, as it repeated my name. It sounds much better coming from Sindee.
I told Sindee that it was here on planet Criplail. It took a long time for it to understand. It's really more primitive than I anticipated. Even the dumbest Parqon would have understood after the second try. But it's been kind of fun trying to get Sindee to understand, kind of like training my canispup!
It took a lot of gesturing with all four of my arms, but Sindee finally understood. I gestured some more to ask where it was from. It said something that sounded like Erth. What a strange name! So gutteral! I tried to repeat it but it was too hard for me. Spoken language is really complex. How do such primitive creatures have the capacity to think about all the elements of language, like grammar and syntax, while also pushing air and forming mouth movements? It really is amazing!
\*\*\*
Dear Diary,
I saw Sindee fiddling with the ship today. From what I can gather, Sindee is running out of provisions. I offered it a packet of my glowing nutskins, but I guess it can't eat that. It couldn't crack it with its teeth! How silly is that? Teeth that can't even crack nutskins! Why even have teeth? Maybe its function is just to help with speech.
It seems like Sindee's ship has run out of fuel. That seemed like an easy fix. I tried to pour the water into the tank, but Sindee screamed at me. It sounded just like a wild owlscreecher! I was so surprised I dropped the cup completely and the water pooled over the ground.
The craziest part--Sindee was so shocked that it started leaking out of its eyes! It was clear, just like the water. I guess when it drinks so much water, it probably becomes water too. I'm not sure why Sindee was so hysterical. Its breathing was erratic and I was scared it might choke on its own water!
I quickly scooped the dropped water back into the cup and tried to show it that it was okay. Sindee just stared at it. It looked at the ground and then back into the cup. Then it spoke a string of words that I couldn't figure out at all. I don't really get what happened. It's not like things disappear once it hits the ground. It's a solid slate. Everything just settles on top.
Eventually, Sindee calmed down. It seemed wary to accept the cup this time, almost as if it was expecting the water to be changed. I urged Sindee to drink it--it seems like they need a lot of water and I can't siphon any more from the car today or else Mom will know. Luckily, she drives everywhere so won't notice a little missing here and there.
Sindee kept hesitating, but eventually, after I tipped the cup into her mouth, it did drink it. It really does seem like these creatures need a lot of supervision and care even for their most basic needs. I don't know what Sindee would have done if I hadn't found her.
Afterwards, Sindee showed me what was in the fuel tank. And it was the craziest thing! Did you know they still use petroleum as fuel?? I know! That's what the first Parqons used before we discovered cleaner methods. It surprises me more and more just how backwards Sindee's parqons are!
I said I'd try to help. Eventually Sindee understood and then it tried to strangle me!! Only, I realised afterwards that wrapping its two skinny arms wasn't actually an attack, but some sort of sign of affection? When it was squeezing me, I could feel just how soft and fleshy it actually was. Underneath the crinkly armour it wore, it was actually quite delicate. I could have crushed it easily between just two of my arms! Sindee's lucky that I think first and act second. That could have ended very badly for it. I'll need to find a way to tell it to be more careful in the future. You'd think that something so squishy would be more aware of dangers...
I'm not sure where I'm going to find petroleum. Sindee might have to remain here even longer. Maybe I can convince Mom to let it stay with us. It could be a replacement pet for my canispup.
\*\*\*
Dear Diary,
Sindee was gone when I went to visit today. The ship was gone too. I guess it found the petroleum it needed to return home. At least, I hope that's the case. Otherwise, it would mean the Order found it, and well... I'd rather not think about that.
I hope Sindee is safe. It's silly, but I do worry about it. It's so helpless, like a baby.
One day, when I grow up, I'm going to become a star walker. I'm going to fly to Erth and find Sindee, and the first thing I'm going to do is circle my two arms around it in an affection attack!
\*\*\*
Thanks for reading! If you'd like to see more from me, feel free to check out: r/rulerofstorybears | It is still powered down right now.
I’m able to watch it from across the quarters, but I try not to stay too close for too long. I know some creatures have protective secretions during reboots and hibernation, so I don’t want to risk any airborne barbs or gasses that might seek out any of my orifices. I still have a lot to learn about this creature.
What was most interesting to me at first was the sheer size of the thing. Twice, maybe even thrice as big as the only one to come before it.
I still remember that day.
It was about 32 rotations ago when we all crowded around the plaza to observe the new visitor. It had fallen from the sky but our centrifugal barrier caught it before any further damage could come of it. We gathered around the small, lifeless body that was limply hanging in midair just a few zafrons above ground.
I knew they’d ask me to take a look, as had been my stated expertise from my studies all these rotations. Every orbit, I offered a new theory about extracelestial life. Most of my kin didn’t believe me. All of my competitors sought to discredit me. I couldn’t tell if they wanted my help with this creature because they believed me, or because they wanted to prove me wrong.
I looked closer at the creature, unsure if it still sustained life. Beneath what I now know to be a mask, its facial muscles twitched beneath the fibers that covered its whole being. It was alive. But just barely.
I spent over six rotations learning about this creature. It was only alive for the first two. Once, I took off the mask while we were outdoors. The creature gasped and its eyes grew large in what I now understood to be their expression of our emotion of panic. Indoors, it never gasped. There was something about our flora that must not react well with this creature. I kept it inside from then on out.
I found this creature fascinating, and it became one of my favorite parts of my routine. Every morning it jumped out of its nest and climbed to the highest rafters of the bunker. It swung from beam to beam before making its way to our kitchen. I often witnessed it drinking water and also even bathing in it. This was particularly curious to me as I had never thought to drink the stuff.
I had maintained a small stockpile of other items that had fallen in the same way this creature had, none of which had been living things before. Much of it I understood to be fuel, perhaps what extracelestials utilized for sustenance. I allowed the creature to try a sample once when it seemed eager to consume anything it could get its hands on. I quickly learned the creature loved the stuff - it showed a particular fondness for the one in the jar with a small image of a long, curved cylinder that was the same color as the sun. I tasted it once, too. Disgusting mush if you ask me.
After a couple rotations of tests and learning about what sustains and entertains this creature, one morning it didn’t arise to swing from the rafters. I didn’t see its small torso rise and fall with the pumping of its internal organs, and I didn’t see the facial muscles twitching beneath its body fibers. I slowly poured some water on its face but it just dripped to the floor. I didn’t understand the deep pang I was feeling inside of my body, and I suddenly had no desire to leave my home or continue to pursue my studies. This was an entirely foreign emotion to me, but it was flooding my body. It took me almost an entire rotation before I was willing to study again, and to continue testing on the lifeless creature.
This new creature, though, it was different. Much larger, in length and weight. Still smaller than me and my kin, though. It had far fewer fibers, less thick and less coarse and mostly centralized on the top of the head as opposed to densely covering the full body. What seemed entirely strange and surprising was that its vertebrae did not extend out beyond its torso the way the last creature’s had. I could only assume that this creature would not and could not so adeptly climb and swing through my bunker.
It, too, consumed ample amounts of water. It was undiscerning in its preference for the jarred sustenance, and seemed eager to consume anything I granted it access to.
I learned from the last creature, and understood the importance of wearing a mask to keep this one alive. I didn’t remove it except in the pressurized bunker.
The insignia on its clothing was similar to that of the creature’s from so many rotations ago. I felt a pang of memory and grief at seeing the strange “NASA” image that I had first seen in the plaza so long ago. I knew it implausible, but I felt this creature must somehow be connected to my creature I had grown to care for before its last waking days.
Rotations passed, and we entered a new orbit with additional extracelestials having entered our world over time. My peers in research took them in, some doing things that I...would have preferred not to know about.
It got bad when it started getting hotter, and we had to seek out a new safe place to colonize. Suddenly, our fuel was a priority as we sought to expand and explore far and wide. As the temperatures increased, our natural water supply began to dwindle. As more and more of us adventured out into the unknown, our vehicles required more fuel.
It became a battle of resources between the researchers and the explorers. We needed the water to sustain the life we were studying, but others demanded the water to fuel their exploits. My perspective was that we needed to continue research and protect our creature studies to better understand the universe we live in, to know where and how we can survive and thrive next. The explorers claimed they needed the water to protect the future of our civilization so that we didn’t die out before we established a new home. I could see both sides. But their side included the dehydration and eventual death of these creatures we had been caring for.
As my fellow researchers and I attempted to gameplan how we might be able to steal enough water from the reserves to sustain our creatures for the next rotation, what we didn’t realize is that the creatures had been communicating in their own way with each other this whole time.
What we didn’t realize is that the creatures had learned just as much about us as we had about them.
I thought I had been nurturing something small and innocent, a curious but gentle little creature like the fiber-covered one that used to swing from my rafters.
When we looked up from our blueprints to see our creatures standing around us, pointing our own lasers back at us, I knew I had been mistaken. | 2020-10-11T08:49:16 | 2020-10-11T08:44:11 | 960 | 153 |
[WP] "So they are a war species then, huh." The alien scratched his head: "Why are you interested in them. The humans, i mean." The other alien got closer. "They fight for peace. No war species ever fights for peace." | I’m one-hundred and four now and there are more things than not that I have forgotten in my life. I can’t tell you the first time I traveled to another planet. I can’t recall the name of my instructor from school. And, I’ve even forgotten the name of my first friend in under school. I can, however, remember to this day the first time I had seen a human.
Sophia Barton was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. Sure, she was short like every human. Yeah, she had the unnecessarily long hair that most human females do. She even did the all too predatory action of bearing her teeth, often. Despite all of this, Sophia has been my closest companion since I was only nine.
“Why do we have to Mom?”
“Because they’re coming into the Council, now stop fussing.” My mother told me sternly, as we waited behind the large glass walls looking into the ship terminal.
“It’s stupid, why does she need to stay at our house?” I asked my mother, not seeing how selfish I was being at the time.
“Rules are rules, dear.” She never went into much depth, even as she got older.
When the ship landed, I remember how much I tried not to look. I even tried to wander into a different room, but the loud screaming that sounded after the engines silenced kept my eyes glued to the platform.
She was tiny. Her face was red and glistened from moisture oozing out of orifices. All I could think was how ugly humans are. What a shame they were being allowed into the Council. The little girl kept creating such a fuss that I didn’t even notice the hand she was holding onto was the hand of my father, Third Admiral of Council Collective Space Fleet. But, after contact with the horrendous looking humans, he was brought down to nothing more than a baby sitter.
"Ew, she is not staying in my room.” I said, with my face smashed against the window, ears raised to the cold surface. My mother merely shushed me and led me to the entrance where my father was entering, with his new unfortunate luggage.
My parents embraced and my father even gave me some sort of wooden toy he had gotten on one of the human’s planets. I whispered my protests into his lowered ear, but he would be having none of it. The day felt like it would be the beginning of something horrible, especially if I was going to be listening to the disgusting sniveling sounds coming from the tiny human clinging to my father’s large grizzled one. It wasn’t until I tripped down a flight of steps later a few minutes later, as I was scuffing my feet in childish anger, that I realized that it was actually the exact opposite.
Empathy, compassion, mercy, call it what you like, but humanity has it. Every race in the Council is powerful, intelligent, clever, or resilient, but the humans are just plain nice. The lumbering Marins are the least opportune race to face head to head. The Yyes are known for their near perfect soldiers. Graes are the oldest and most intelligent of the races. You’d be hard-pressed to find a Nami who can’t con you out of the last credits you have left in your pocket. Then there are the Undarins who can withstand temperatures from 278K to 295K. It was barely ten cycles after humans were accepted into the Council that the status quo changed. | The first alien, Orion, looks down at the planet Earth and then at Brian.
Orion: They fight for peace? Well that's a contradiction in terms.
Brian: I know, but they fight all the same.
Orion: No, I mean, it doesn't make sense, you must be mistaken.
Brian: It's not me, it's them. They are the ones saying they fight for peace, I believe it as much as you do.
Orion: Who says? Who says they fight for peace?
Brian: They do?
Orion: This isn't a hive species is it? It looks to me like they are individualistic.
Brian: They are. Very much so.
Orion: So, surely they can't all say that they fight for peace?
Brian: No, no, it must just be some of them.
Orion: Well I think I could manage a guess at that one.
Brian consults his console for a second.
Brian: The leaders. Ah, I see.
Orion: Yes. There you have it. I've seen it a million times before.
Brian: What do you reckon the chances are that the leaders take part in the fighting?
Orion: They never do on planets like these.
Brian: Right... well... sorry to waste your time, sir.
Orion: No trouble, Brian. It's good you brought it to me. You best be getting yourself ready, this species isn't going to wipe themselves out, are they?
Brian: I wouldn't underestimate them, sir!
Brian and Orion laugh.
Brian: Will you be joining us this time, sir?
Orion: Don't make jokes, private. Get the troops ready, head on down and clean this place up a bit. | 2018-03-17T05:52:27 | 2018-03-17T05:02:04 | 176 | 89 |
[WP] You are driving to your friend's house to play D&D. A truck losses control and just before it hits you time freezes and a message appears "roll to dodge the truck" | The truck swerved to the side, missing us by inches. The sudden turn caused the truck to jack-knife as it hurtled towards the overhang, its screeching tires leaving long black rubber marks along the road. The driver managed to jump free right as the truck went over the edge, his trucker hat flying skywards as he rolled across the ground like a rag-doll, only coming to a stop after the truck's impact explosion had long since echoed up from below.
I stared, dumbfounded, both at the space the massive eighteen wheeler had so recently occupied and at the number 18, which just now faded from my vision, winking out of existence in a much less intense fashion than the unfortunate truck.
"Duuuuude," Sammy said from the passenger seat, his hands shaking violently as he tried to light a cigarette. "That was pretty fucked up."
"Yeah," I said, barely able to process what just occurred, let alone voice a response. I indicated at the limp figure on the ground. "I'm going to see if he is okay."
The trucker's limbs were awkwardly splayed, almost like the four cardinal directions on a compass.
*Roll a loot check.*
I stepped backwards, staggering a little as I rapidly assessed my mental state. I hadn't done acid in a while... maybe flashbacks? A residual trailing of it? Or... this could be my brain processing the very real near-death experience I just went through. Yeah. That was it.
*Roll a loot check*.
The text floated in-front of me, hovering about three feet away. It was flashing faster now and the color was growing lighter. This happened right before the truck swerved, I recalled. Right before it was about to slam into us. What did I do then?
Roll, I thought, eyeing the floating text.
The number 18 flashed again. Knowing what to do next, I bent over and ruffled through the dead man's pockets. Spare keys, a pack of Marlboro's and a scratched lottery ticket, the state-wide LottoMax .
I pulled out my phone and checked the numbers, the result making me feel a little weak in the knees. The ticket was worth 1.2 million dollars.
"Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit," I said, the words devolving into a garbled mess. I ran back to the car and jumped into the driver's seat. Sammy was still shaking, but now he was also taking long drags from his cigarette. I tossed him the pack of Marlboro's.
"Call the cops," I said, starting the car up and driving it towards the curb. "Trucker's dead." I turned the car off and eyed the rubber scorch marks, which were smeared for at least a hundred feet. "Should probably call John too," I said, my mind now reeling from the million dollar payload in my jean pocket, not to mention the near death experience and the weird hovering numbers. "We're not going to make it to tonight's session."
The police questioned us for an hour before they let us go, frowning in our rear-view mirror as we drove back the way we came. Rolling a 14 had helped.
Sammy chain smoked, rambling the entire drive home. I barely paid attention, the winning lottery ticket inducing happiness-filled day dreams of what I would do with the money, the near death experience all but forgotten.
Just as I opened my front door, the floating text appeared again.
*Roll to discover extent of infestation.* | I spun the wheel as quickly as I could, desperately spinning the car out of the way of the truck. Before my eyes, a large **17** appeared, followed by the word “Success!” in gold letters. As the car spun wildly on the rainy road, I saw a new message appear.
“Roll to use your Vehicle Handling: Sedan Skill.”
I stomped on the brakes, even as I tried to remember my old driving instructor. Turn into the turn? Or turn away? I couldn’t remember! Panicking, I felt the front tire slip off the road, starting a roll. With a burst of thought, I stomped on the gas and dragged my car back onto the road, even as the motion finally ceased.
**11** “Success!”
Breathing hard, I finally had time to stop and process what was happening, even as I blinked and tried to slow my heartrate. I was clearly hallucinating, likely as a result of the near-death experience. All I had to do was calm down, and the messages would disappear. I’d just remember this as a funny event.
“Make a Perception check.”
“Oh no. Oh no no no no.” I quickly turned the key, desperately trying to get my car started after I turned it off in a panic. Eyes wide with fear, I barely managed pick out a pair of gleaming green eyes, growing larger in the night as they drew towards me.
**12** “Success!”
Staring more closely, I realized the eyes belonged to a massive beast, some sort of large cat. It had webbed feet, long teeth, and two tails, each of which ended in a snake, twisting, snapping, and biting as the creature barreled towards me.
“Roll Initiative.”
“Fuuuuuu---”
**1** “You will go last.”
“ROAR!”
| 2019-02-12T10:29:38 | 2019-02-12T10:28:59 | 128 | 25 |
[WP] You're the owner of a cafe frequently visited by vigilantes and anti-heroes who absolutely adore your sweetness and acceptance of who they are. One day, though, a particularly rude customer comes in and trashes the place. Your friends aren't too happy to hear about that. |
I knew he was trouble when he walked in.
He came in, head held up high, posture like someone had shoved a metal rod up his ass. Young, cocky, asshole. It was slow day, only a couple of people were around. None of the regulars. A guy working on his laptop, and another girl watching the snow fall over Union Square outside.
He walked over to the counter like he owned the place. He raised his voice. “You folk might want to leave,” he said. “This might get ugly.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. He must have a foot on me and his arms were as thick as my thighs. The two customers looked at me and I nodded. “Best to leave, yeah.” They hurried out. What were the odds either of them would call the cops? Next to none. They’d think the other person would.
“You want something?” I asked.
The man picked up a cup and threw it at the wall next to my head, probably intending to make me flinch. I caught it as it flew by my head and set it back down. The PTSD and emotional trauma did come with some upsides.
“So you’re Elizabeth, I take?” eyes narrowed.
I went with the classic response. “Depends on who’s asking.”
He sneered. “Nobody’s asking, *sweetheart,*” he said. “We’ve been keeping track of what kind of clientele you serve. The rotten. The wannabes. The worst of the worst.”
“Strange,” I mused. “None of them have ever threatened me in my own workplace. Truly, nothing screams paragon of virtue like trying to intimidate women.”
He walked over to a table, picked it up with one hand and threw it against the wall. The table shattered and left a dent in the wall. He picked up a metal chair and, looking me in the eyes, bent it in half.
I rolled my eyes. “You realize you’re paying for that, right?”
He laughed and continued to wreck the place. Tables, chairs, vases, whatever he could find his hands on, grinning all the time. This was just pathetic, this is what the League had resorted to? Petty intimidation? And it could only be the League with their idiotic ideals of heroism. The government weren’t a bunch of thugs, and anyone else wouldn’t have bothered with the intimidation, they would’ve tried to kill me. Honestly, I would have preferred that. That was honest. This though…
“Are you done?” I asked as he sauntered back over to me.
“For now I am,” he said, again with that grin showing impeccable teeth. I was tempted to punch him…but no. I was out. I didn’t interfere anymore. It wasn’t worth it. “Now listen here, no more serving your “regulars,” yeah? Tell them someone, ah, tipped you off to what they really are. And that you don't serve their kind."
“They don’t trash the place, and tip well. They seem like better customers than you are.”
He leaned closer, looking me dead in the eyes. “Now, the League is protecting all of you from…maniacs like them, maybe you should be a little grateful.” He straightened. “You know, it might get some people thinking, why would any self-respecting citizen serve people like them. Might give the League the wrong idea...”
A handful of people sauntered into the shop snow on their shoulders. “I heard you were having trouble, Liz,” the man in the lead, Jon, said. Behind him, there was Rory, her red hair falling out of her fur hood and Michel, his dark skin a sharp contrast to the winter wonderland outside.
“Oh, speak of the devil,” the Leaguer said and *smiled.*” Actually smiled. He couldn’t see the tension in the air. I could feel it. Didn't realize how screwed he was.
“Jon, Rory, Mike,” I said, nodding to each of them. “What brings you here.”
“Heard a bull was running around in your shop, Liz,” Jon said, his eyes locked on the intruder. “Thought you could use some help getting it out.”
“Look, don’t worry about it,” I said, asshole or not the guy looked in his 20s. “He’s just a kid, let him go.”
He swiveled towards me, eyes ablaze. I mentally chastised myself. I hadn't thought before speaking. Forgot how sentimental these young heroes were.
“A kid? Listen bitch,” he spat, “I’ll show you how much of a kid I really am.” I saw the punch coming a mile away – really those idiots with super strength were always slow for some reason, and moved to the side, but I needn’t have bothered. The kid flew back and hit the wall with a wet sounding thud and a crack. One second he was in front of the counter reaching for me, the next he was against the wall, a red stain on the wall, his neck at an unnatural angle.
I put my head in my hands. “Jesus fucking Christ, Jon,” I snarled.
Jon frowned at me, moving his hand back down – he didn’t actually need to move his hand to use telekinesis – he just liked to show off. “He was going to hit you, Liz.”
“Seriously? You think that idiot could have even *touched* me?”
“I don’t know, Liz,” Rory spoke, laughing, “You’ve been out for a long time…”
I glared at her. “Now the league will investigate, things will only go downhill.”
Jon’s voice was laced with steel. “The League won’t fucking dare.”
I knew that tone of voice. “Jon no…”
But he was already turning away. “C’mon Rory, Mike. Let’s have a chat with the local League office.”
I surveyed the broken tables, the body, the blood. "Leaving the adult to clean up the mess..." I muttered uncharitably and went in the back to get the bleach.
***
Due to demand, I present
[Part 2: Blood on the Snow](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/comments/9q1h8u/urban_fantasy_blood_on_the_snow_out_of_retirement/?)
If you enjoyed, check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| If you asked me today how it all started, I wouldn’t be able to tell the truth. Not because it was an ugly truth, but simply because I don’t remember *exactly* how it unfolded over all these years. I bought the place and turned it into a drinks shop, in a part of the city where such shops were scarce. Business was good. It attracted attention, no doubt to my superior sense of design. “Happy’s Hunting”, I named my place. Ironic, as it turned out, for the kind of people that inhabited it frequently. People that didn’t see eye to eye, often at each other’s throats by day, had their arms around each other’s shoulders, exchanging friendly banter by night. I’d like to say it was because of my dashingly good looks that everyone wanted to stay on my good side, but that would be a lie. Everyone followed the shop’s strict rule of nonviolence, because my patrons were not accepted anywhere else. I did not care who they were, as long as they didn’t hurt me and as long as they paid for their drinks. Business is business after all.
“Eirene! Pass me another!”
I turned and glared at the general direction of the voice.
“Please!”
I turned back to the shelves, hiding my smile. It was Luke, of course. Luke was banned from nearly every bar in this part of the city, no doubt because of his bloodstained history. He had murdered a group of four men, who had broken into his home and killed his family while he was away. While I personally think he was justified, the locals did not think so, even though Luke had a one-year-old baby. Luke’s life was ruined, and so he turned to a network that operated in the shadows. One that thrived on recruiting people like him, bent on exacting revenge on the corrupt upper circles that enabled criminality.
A gold coin slid across the tabletop. I seated the glass on a coaster and gently pushed it down the line, receiving thanks.
The door opened, and conversation ceased for a brief moment as everyone looked at the newcomer. A tall man, clothed fully in black. A wide brimmed hat covered most of his face. An oppressive aura emanated from his person. Slowly he looked up. The mumbling picked back up as everyone recognized One-Eyed Jones, another regular.
I put up his usual order on the counter by the time he made his way over. He looked at me and smiled. “My thanks,” he said, dropping several coins on the counter and turning to look for a seat. He took a step forward and turned back around. “Eirene. Is it so necessary to have your door so heavy and noisy? It makes me uncomfortable when I walk in.”
I laughed lightly. “Of course, Jones. Given the kind of people you guys are its better you are aware of who is walking in, in case there is trouble.”
Jones leveled his eyes at me. Rather, eye. Just one. His right. “You are not wrong of course. I respect your judgement.” He tipped his head a slight degree, and walked off towards an empty table.
No one knew how Jones lost his eye. Probably everyone that knew was already dead. Jones was a vigilante, one that considered himself the sole arbiter of the law. Many people did not agree with his rough ways, but in my shop, he was just another person. One of them. Outcasts and misfits that were not accepted elsewhere.
Arras and Jenna came up to chat at exactly the time I expected them to. A little past eight thirty. “Eirene! You won’t believe it! Good news, Eirene!”
I smiled knowingly at Arras’ giddy voice. “Pray tell, before you piss yourself.”
Arras gave his warm laugh, one that could light a room better than a fireplace ever could.
Jenna leaned forward and whispered, “I’m expecting, Eirene.”
I clapped my hands together. “That’s wonderful! Here, have a pop to celebrate!”
They both made appreciative noises as I brought out some of my finest fizz. “This one is on me!”
They happily downed their drinks, as Jenna leaned in for a hug. Arras and Jenna were both kids of government officials. While their kind were not popular around in these circles, Arras and Jenna were tolerated because their fathers were considered heroes to everyone, even if hands were heavy on the iron.
As the clock dwindled towards three, the shop emptied. I yawned, as I put away the last glass that had needed washing. I began wiping the tables as the door creaked deafeningly open. I turned around and began, “I’m sorry, we’re cl-“
| 2022-11-10T02:01:25 | 2018-10-20T22:22:51 | 1,330 | 24 |
[WP] A panicked scream of "Is anybody here a doctor?" You tentatively raise your hand. "I'm a Necromancer, if you're willing to wait a few minutes." | "Are- are you fucking kidding me?" she yelled. "He needs medical help right no- PLEASE? ANYONE?" she screamed as she frantically continued to hold her phone above her head, trying to get a signal.
"I'm quite serious, ma'am," I calmly said. "Ratty, show her, please?"
My pocket started moving suddenly as the woman's eyes grew from infuriating panic to bewildered fear. Moments later, Ratty crawled out and stretched, his bones cracking as he did so.
Easy for your bones to creak when you're made of them and *only* them.
The lady screamed once again.
"Please!" I raised my hand in a defensive manner, "Ratty is a very good boy, he won't bite," I smiled.
Ratty scratched his phantom ear with a paw and looked at the woman.
SQUEAK, he affirmed. He could not vocalize in a standard manner on account of his lack of lungs, or mouth, but was still capable of squeaking. It was something you didn't hear, rather it *was* heard in your head.
"I-" she sputtered out. "Please, can you help my husband? Please!" she said, recovering from the shock of seeing Ratty. Admirable, I thought - she just bore witness to horrors beyond comprehension, the veil between life and death torn away and turned upside down and it took her less than 30 seconds to concern herself with her husband's wellbeing.
"If you're willing to wait a few minutes," I remarked. Her eyes widened as she realized quite what I meant. I was, after all, a necromancer.
"Will- will there be any side effects?" she said, tears starting to well up in her eyes.
"No," I lied. I... didn't have the heart. And judging by the lack of signal on her phone, there wasn't going to be another option. Hopefully working on a corpse so fresh will minimize the side effects.
She hastily grabbed my hand and led me to her husband lying on the ground. He was puffy and choking; anaphylactic shock, it would seem. Nothing we could do. Not while he still struggled for breath.
I took her hand gently and gave her a smile.
"It might be better if you wait outside."
"What? No! I can't just leave him what if-"
"Please," I repeated. She looked me in the eyes, trembling, but acquiesced. She walked out nervously and the door closed. I kneeled down by the man whose breathing was slowing down now.
"I know what you're feeling right now," I gently said and grabbed his hand to comfort him. "I know how incredibly scary it is but I need you to stop fighting. Every cell in your body is telling you not to, but you must. I promise I will get you back to her, alright?"
His eyes darted around the room, sized me up, panicked, frantic. I tried to be as comforting as possible.
"Let go," I whispered. "It's going to be alright."
His breathing was barely noticeable now. I saw the fear in his eyes go out together with their light.
SQUEAK? Ratty pitched in.
"I believe so, yes," I said and checked his pulse. None to be found.
Don't worry, mate. I'll get you back. I won't fail. Not this time.
SQUEAK, Ratty said, assuring me. I smiled at him.
"Time to get to work," I told both him and the man. | The woman looks over me and replies "Well... you dont look like one but if you say you are, that's enough for me." She steps aside to show a dead man laying down. I move the crowd away to get some space before pulling out a book and chalk. I mutter to myself, thinking, as I have been out of practice for some time. The woman paces around the incantation circle and says "Well? Are you almost done?" She asks with an impaitent trill in her voice. I sigh and turn to glace at her "My good woman, this isn't flarking Magecraft and Potions. This is Necromancy. It's like Artificing for Wizards." I reply before snapping back to my work. After I finish, I stand and mutter some words from my book. Glowing green and black swirls of magic surround the dead man and as I finish, he slowly rises and the tendrils of magic flow into his body but then suddenly... the lights flicker then vanish as his body tumbles to the ground. An air of silence is heard before I mutter "Snapes Slithering Snake!" I glance over the runes and things I have placed on the ground before saying "There's that Rune! I always forget it!" I finish adding the rune in a small spot that it barely fit into and the magic continued like nothing happened.
A few month later... she came back to me "I never got to say, thank you." I don't face her. My cloak is lifted to cover my face and a gruff, deeper voice of my own comes out "it's nothing... you, could, pay me back though..." And I turn and my eyes are glowing with a horrific green and my face is covered with burns. I reach out towards this now terrified woman and then I place my hand on her shoulder "You know... a coffee would be nice right about now, it might help with my sore throat." | 2022-06-17T12:22:57 | 2022-06-17T11:59:34 | 120 | 34 |
[WP] You are due to be executed for your involvement in the rebellion, but the queen herself approched you in your cell to ask you a question; why are people rebelling against her rule? | "Why?" I parroted the question back at the Queen standing outside the cell. "You only now bother to ask me why? After sentencing me to death, after tearing my friends limb from limb, after letting your brood feast on the remains? Now?"
I sat heavily on the thin excuse for a mattress the cell offered, as a chuckle entirely devoid of humor escaped my mouth. This seemed to puzzle the guards, both the pair guarding my door and the swarm protecting their queen. I supposed they hadn't bothered to study human emotions before invading our planet.
They had come for our water, for our flora and sunlight. These giant alien insects hadn't even considered the possibility of other intelligent species, much less one that wasn't a hive mind like their own. To these creatures, each person was another cell in the singular brain they shared. If one of them had attempted to rebel, it would have been like a human's eyebrow declaring independence from their face. Individuality was as foreign to them as a telepathic hive mind was to us.
"Annnnnnzwerr the quezzztion" the queen spoke. I had to give it to them, they had attempted to learn one of our languages after realizing we were intelligent. They had even tried to use their mandibles to re-create human speech, which only resulted in a buzzing jumble of short sentences.
"We rebel because we are individuals! We have our own separate groups, our own countries and customs and traditions, our own ways of life!" I slammed my fist into the mattress in frustration, already knowing the answer they would give. The thin mattress did nothing to cushion my hand, transferring all the energy into the wooden bed frame below. I didn't care about the pain. I was going to be dead in a matter of hours anyways.
"Buuttttt the queen commandzzzzzz that you become one zzzzzzzzingle grouo" the door guard spoke. They took turns playing the role of mouthpiece, needing to rest their hideous mouths after just one sentence. They all knew what the words would be, with that whole hive mind thing of theirs.
"But we don't want it" I replied, still staring at the queen. "We got along just fine with each other overall, we just wanted to keep our own ways of life. We even shared food, clothing, culture, hell, even jokes! We were one people, but with our own wants and needs."
The bugs just stared at me. The door guard that had spoken last licked one of his compound eyes with his long, forked tongue. These aliens would never understand. It wasn't even their own fault. The concept was entirely alien to them.
The queen turned to walk away, sending her personal drones scattering to catch up to support her enormous thorax. Watching them, I was struck with inspiration.
"We're like your drones and your servants, your guards and pilots! Except we choose which we want to become!" I yelled after her. I didn't need to raise my voice, the door guards ears were effectively hers from any distance.
The queen stopped, and the other door guard asked "you can control your own physical metamorphosis?"
My heart sank. My last bit of hope was squashed away, from a ignorant bug stomping down on me with a massive shoe.
"No", I said, resigning myself to my fate. "Just leave me be. Buzz off."
The bug aliens left me alone, even though they could never fully understand what 'alone' meant.
r/SlightlyColdStories if you want. Or don't. It's all up to you. | Queen Oblivia walked tentatively through the rank, fetid dungeons. It was an amusing contrast; her pristine attire and the decrepit complex. Oblivia was worried. She certainly looked so. And the worries reached their peak at the same time she reached the prisoner.
The queen wastes no time with formalities.
"For your part in the people's rebellion, you are to be put to death." She tells the man on the other side of the cell bars.
The prisoner doesn't even dignify her with his gaze. "That I am," is all he gives her.
"Tell me. Why?" You can hear the confusion in her voice. The innocence. And the fear.
"Imagine a world where every man is a king." The rebel stares into nothing. "It would be a dream come true."
"A dream is precisely what it is." Oblivia blurts. Even with her fear, the arrogance of royalty leaks through. "Nothing more than entertainment."
"It's not entertaining anymore, Your Magesty. The people I fight with. The people I fight *for.* They've made it boring." The prisoner still does not meet her gaze.
"Then why are you rebels so... ferocious? Why the chaos? The fight? The blood?"
It is only now - and only for a moment - that the prisoner locks eyes with queen Oblivia. She was expecting to see rage in his eyes. Malice. Even insanity, perhaps. Nothing - and I mean *nothing* \- could have scared her more than the look of utter **lucidity** on this man's face.
"It's boring because it's **real**."
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
If you want more real and/or boring stories you can read more of my work over at r/PlotHoleFullOfSnakes. ^(Stories are not guaranteed to be boring or real. If you find yourself enjoying an illusory story, consult your doctor immediately. The writhing conglomerate of snakes is not legally responsible for any injuries that occur from the abstract concept of literature.) | 2022-05-18T06:33:59 | 2022-05-18T02:12:56 | 330 | 26 |
[wp] Make a character with as much sympathy as possible. Now, in a realistic and non-over the top manner, make me lose all sympathy for them. | My hands shake as the brush strikes the paper. A thin layer of red fills the petals of my rose. Too dark. I must’ve pressed too hard. I take a small breath to calm my nerves. It wasn’t that my hands shake every time I paint, it’s just that in ten minutes’ time, I would finally be able to give my country, my people, my family, everything that I am.
Would I succeed? Only God can see so far forward. All man can do is to keep pushing, one step in front of the other. And even then, failure is all but certain. In the eyes of the world, a man can only do so much.
That was a lesson I had spent half my life learning. When my father first heard that I wanted to go to university for art, he scoffed at my decision. It wasn’t the uncertainty or the money, but me. I had no talent for it, he told me. My paintings looked like the tissues in the toilet after he had wiped his ass. He would not fund my stupidity.
But so be it. Painting was my calling and nobody had to tell me just how little talent I had, I knew. My nights were spent dissecting colors in my head. My mornings I dedicated to brushstrokes and technique. The afternoons I would study the greatest of the great, the Michelangelos and Van Goghs. Because life was not in the cards I drew, but the cards I played.
So I worked for two years, tirelessly, saving every penny, eating only bread and stew. I sold watercolours out of my parents’ store. I studied, painted, threw away, and studied some more until finally, I was ready. I applied to university.
The day the letter came, my hands shook so much I had to ask my father to open it for me. He did so and I swallowed as I met his eyes. Have I proven him wrong? He laughed. He threw his head back and let loose a rumbling guffaw that shook his very core. And mine.
I had been rejected. They said that I just didn’t have the talent.
It took me weeks to recover from that. My nights were no longer spent in study, they were spent at the pubs. The mornings I gave to my hangover and the afternoons to beg for more money. And that was when my father sat me down, a picture of the Vienna skyline in his lap and said these words: “son, I’d like to purchase this painting from you.”
I dug my nails into my palms. I swallowed my breaths. I ground my teeth to dust. But none of it mattered. The cry welled up in my chest and exploded out my mouth as a torrent of tears rained into my lap.
“Thank you, father.” I told him.
One year later, eating this time only bread, I had made up my savings that I had wasted with alcohol. I applied once more. This time, when the application came, my father stood at my side, his hands crossed, face grim, as he watched me open the letter.
“The candidate has an unfitness for painting,” I read and choked. Because I had known, I had always known. My father was right, the university was right, my first instinct was right. I just had no talent.
Then, my father said the words I would never forget. “Son, you were not meant for such trivialities. Your path is greater. So make your way and change our world.”
And so I found a new calling. I found it in the despair of a country ravaged by war and its people bullied by the powerful. I would save my country and everyone within it.
I stand up and stare at my imperfect rose and my crooked lilies beside it. One day, men will buy my paintings not because they are great, but because I am. A knock on the door. My time is up.
“My fuhrer,” he says. “The people are waiting.”
I nod. The world would soon learn my name.
---
---
/r/jraywang
| Gary's father always made sure to let him know that he was the reason his life was shit due to his wife dying while giving birth to him. If you ask anyone who knows Gary they will all agree that bruises were almost like tattoos on his skin. They never left.
His childhood was a living hell yet he swore to himself that he would transform all the abuse he was receiveing into examples of what he should never do to another human being.
When he turned 15 his father was drunker than usual and beated Gary up so much that he had to spent 3 days in the hospital. Gary did not want to comeback to his home after that, he was terrified. After taking a deep breath he went to the police station just to get completely ignored by the officers.
Gary's situation was hopeless, he had been wandering the city for 3 days with no safe place to stay and starving. Suddenly, walking down the street he came across a place were people fed the homeless. He ate as much as they allowed him to. An old lady who voluntereed there offered him to stay in her home if he was willing to help her feed the homeless. Gary agreed instantly, a warm bed was all he wanted.
Five years went by, Gary's father went to jail for almost killing another man in a bar fight. Gary took the chance and came back to his old home, horrifying memories came back to him when he opened the door but after a month he was now somewhat comfortable.
Everyday he would go to the shelter to help the old lady that saved his life, he became loved by the regular homelesses because of his empathy and surprising ability to cook.
One day, a recognised chef from the city decided to cook in the shelter for charity. He ended up mesmerized and astonished by Gary's cooking. So much that he offered a job in his restaurant. The abused yet lovely kid accepted with tears in his eyes, he would finally earn enough money to make his dream come true, open his own homeless shelter.
That night he went to sleep with a wide smile. At 4 AM in the morning a dog's bark interrupted his deep sleep. He went outside kicked the dog in the stomach until it shut up. He came back to sleep like nothing happened. He had the best sleep of his life. Gary woke up, made himself a cup of coffee, sat on his chair and looked out the window just to see the dog laying dead just across the street. He kept drinking his coffee a smirk drew in his face. | 2017-04-24T10:52:35 | 2017-04-24T10:10:51 | 239 | 19 |
[WP] you go to the doctor for the first time in 10-15 years for a check up, you suddenly find out through a series of tests that there is no way you should be alive | “Trying to remember the last time I saw you here Dennis” he chuckled, looking through the notes on the screen in front. “You had a few appointments with the asthma clinic you never turned up to, has everything been fine?” He gave me that look, the look only a trained doctor can give – that questioning, caring, empathetic gaze which lowers those barriers everyone usually has.
I glanced up, “I don’t really like coming to the doctors. I know it sounds childish but I don’t like the idea of medicine. Like the idea that there are chemicals, that we as people think is fine to use one year, but then dangerous the next.” I realised I was rambling, and smiled apologetically “Basically I just don’t usually feel all that unwell, and even when I do I just let my body deal with it, you know?”
My explanation seemed to satisfy him, “Alright then, so what made you come to this checkup when you’ve missed so many in the past?” I glanced at my watch, I needed to hurry this up.
“I just got back from holiday, doc. We were backpacking across Asia, me and Lisa-“
“Lisa?” he cut in, curiosity evident in his voice.
“Oh yeah, keep forgetting how long it’s been. My wife, Lisa. She’s fine, nags me too much but hey that’s life I guess” a grin slipped unto my face as I continued. “Yeah she’s the reason I’m here to be honest with you, she said if I didn’t come in I was sleeping on the sofa from now on. So what happened was, I decided to go adventuring on my own, and got bit by a massive mosquito. I hadn’t thought about getting immunisations and stuff, like it just seemed unnecessary and now… well now she’s worried I have malaria or something, you know how women worry.”
He leant forward, and started typing away something into what I assume were my patient notes. “Well that’s definitely something that would be a worry. Now I’m just going to take a blood sample, and we’ll let you know if anything comes back. Until then, don’t share your food with others, as just a precaution, and don’t donate blood in the intrim.”
I’d resigned myself to the fact that I would have to have blood taken, but that didn’t stop me flinching when the needle pierced my flesh, and I tensed from head to toe. He handed me a cotton bud to stop the bleeding, before he gasped. “Dennis your arm! There’s not a mark on it!” he nearly shouted, stopping to compose himself. “I mean, well that definitely healed faster than usual, or maybe I’ve just managed to reach the next level in needle mastery” he chuckled to himself, and I forced myself to laugh too. He talked me through the process, and told me it would probably be a few weeks until I heard anything back.
The next week was uneventful, dropping the kids off, shopping, and a night out with a few of my high school friends (one of those reunions you can’t really say no to). I was just laying on my sofa, head propped up with a pillow, rewatching old South Park episodes when the phone rang. The home phone.
You see the home phone NEVER rings. I mean everyone has mine and my wifes mobile numbers, and for most services we’ve only given our mobile numbers. It’d gotten to the point me and Lisa were thinking of cancelling it altogether. Very intrigued as to who would be on the other end of the line, I dashed to the phone and picked it up.
“Hey” I answered.
“Hi Dennis” I immediately recognised the voice on the other end. It was Dr. Peterson, but why was he calling me? “This might be a bit strange, but your blood results came back. We don’t know whats going on. The blood sample we took, had somehow built a protective layer around it, and it took us a while to even be able to work out how to analyse the blood. I don’t want to lose you with the science, but your blood is unique. You have cells that… that we didn’t even think were possible. It’s truly incredible. It’s fantastic. The cures we could-“
“Doc you’re scaring me.” By this point I was truly lost. How was he going to call me up and instead of talking about whether or not I have a disease, he was talking about unique blood, and cures. It made no sense. It must be his idea of a joke. Hell, doctors must get bored of people coming in with colds, and sore throats.
“Oh I’m sorry Dennis. Your blood has a unique cell type that seems to freeze any type of harmful pathogen or cancerous growth. You have malaria. You even have HIV. It’s truly incredible. There’s insignificant amounts of both diseases in your blood but it hasn’t done anything. They haven’t affected you. They can’t spread. Now to stop beating around the bush I’d like to ask you to come in for a few further tests sometime? Maybe when-“ the door knocked, and acting on impulse I hung up the phone. It was too much to take in. Was I even human then? What makes a person human?
Before I could get lost in my thoughts, the door knocked again. I decided to just ignore it, until they knocked again, almost banging on the door. I stood up, and shuffled slowly to the door. I inched it open, and saw two men wearing suits. My house isn’t a fancy neighbourhood, the suits seemed so out of place, especially in this weather. “Mr. Bradley?” I nodded, “We’re going to have to ask you to come with us.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. What had I managed to get myself into?
If anyone wants to read some of my other work (I'm still fairly new) check out /r/KNDwrites | I was beginning to get a little concerned. In the past few weeks or so, it seemed to me that my skin was getting paler, and my muscles were constantly twitching. It was annoying the hell out of me; I passed it off as a cold at first, but now I had no choice the see a doctor. I may or may not have been a little overdue for a checkup anyways.
I arrived, walked in, took the elevator up to the third floor of the fancy new medical building they put in about three months ago. All was silent but the sound of the elevator sliding upwards, and I could faintly hear typical elevator music being emitted from the speaker in the back of the elevator.
Then I heard that sound again, I heard it several times before; a sort of rusting sound, almost like leaves. I had previously attributed it to outdoor sounds, but there was no way I could hear the fall leaves now, here in this elevator. It sounded extremely close by and if I didn't know better, I would have thought I head headphones on, playing the leaf sounds directly into my ear canal. I made a mental note to ask the doctor if the sound of leaves was played in their elevators here.
At the third floor, I exited the elevator, waited in the lobby for about 10 or 15 minutes, then upon the doctors asking, entered his room. I had the doctor in question, Dr. Ashworth, since my family went to his office when I was a child, and had continued to see him after he moved into this new building.
"Please, have a seat Mark," said the doctor upon greeting.
I sat down, and he then picked up his glasses from the table beside him, put them on, and squinted through them at the clipboard in his other hand.
"It says here you had 'concerns about your health,' what's the issue?" he continued.
Upon looking up at me, the doctor answered his own question, "You are looking quite pale, aren't you?"
"Yes, it was that and my muscles randomly start twitching in different places, those were my major concerns," I replied.
"I will just run you through a regular checkup real quick, to make sure everything's in working order."
He pulled out his stethoscope, and I pulled off my shirt, like regular routine. He stuck the stethoscope over the left side of my chest, listened, moved it around some, and listened some more, until with a frustrated face, pulled it off his head, turning to toss it in the trash can.
"Damn new-fangled junk!" he cursed, "I don't give a damn what they say, I'm using my own equipment if they're only going to supply me this made-in-China crap."
He pulled an older looking stethoscope from a drawer on the far side of the room, and returned to place it over my heart. This time, puzzled rather than angry, he slowly pulled it off, set it on the table, and placed his fingers on my wrist. After about 30 seconds or so of attempting to find a pulse on my wrist, he tried my neck, without success.
Without mentioning my apparently missing heartbeat, he quietly said "Let's take your blood pressure," and wrapped the cuff around my arm and started pumping it up.
Silence.
He let it deflate, and mumbled something about "sixty over thirty" and proceeded to look inside my ear. When he turned the light on, I heard it again. The leaves. Except a lot of rustling, this was full blown leaf storm.
"Oh my God. Shit." he exclaimed backing up. "I think I pissed them off."
Bugs, some sort of small green bugs with hard shells and six feet, started pouring out of my ear, like a water faucet turned on. There wasn't enough room for them to get out, so they started eating there way out, tearing flesh off in a desperate escape.
I felt the pain, but I didn't care. These were my children, and I their leader, father, kind, their god. They were my very existence, keeping me alive.
They chased Dr. Ashworth into the corner of the office, and covered him.
The last I could see of him was the expression of extreme pain on his face, and pure fear pouring from his eyes, and then he disappeared in a sea of green. | 2015-06-03T11:18:30 | 2015-06-03T11:17:15 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] The internet can now connect to millions of alternate realities! After finding out about this your phone buzzes, and when you check to see it, you’ve been invited into a group chat of other versions of yourself! | This was not going to go well. I stared at the chat invite, finger hovering over the accept button. This technology was new, and with infinite possibilities o how this could go, I really was reluctant to take the chance. Then again, with as bad of social anxiety that I had, it was understandable. I knew my brother was chatting with his other versions over in his room, but he didn’t have the worry I did. He was fascinated in finding out the differences, even though he was a couple years younger me. I sighed, and accepted. A couple seconds after my join message got through,
“Hey! The one Illver invited finally joined!”
“Welcome newbie! I’m 001. Call me Anna.”
After a moment, I was flooded with nicknames and numbers to call them, recognizing a couple I used myself, sighing at the fact they were taken.
“So, What should we call you?” Delta asked, and I hovered over the keyboard, noticing I still had the new online name I had to suggest.
“Crownite? Crow or Crown for short?”
“I’m Crown. You’re Crow.” Another one typed quickly.
“Okay, is this everyone?” Illver, the one who invited me asked.
“Yeh, it is, unless you pull another one out of your ass.” “Alphu” typed, and I could almost hear her laughter behind the screen.
“It is everyone who can. Still can’t get a lock on 19472002, or 3582.” Illver replied after a moment of deliberation.
“What about 20000001?” Anna chimed in.
“WE DON’T BRING SHATTER INTO THIS.” A quiet one, Proxil suddenly typed. I froze, quickly grabbing my sketchbook and flipping through it.
“Crow? You good?” Delta typed to break the silence.
I took a picture of the girl, Mindshatter, and sent the drawing to the chat, hands suddenly shaking, from excitement or anxiety I couldn’t tell.
“Her?”
“YES! THAT’S HER! THE KIDNAPPED ONE!” Proxil exclaimed. The chat blew up with messages too fast so I had to constantly scroll up to read what was going on.
“You gotta be kidding me.” I muttered out loud, biting my lip with worry.
“Jesus fuck we actually found her” Morgan typed, followed by a quick reply from Akira.
“The Novelist one or the Creator one?”
“I thought Anna was the Creator?!” Delta asked.
“No. I’m not the Creator, I’m the Original. There’s a difference.”
“That fuck do y’all mean by Creator?” Mewender typed, and Proxil responded.
“Creator. You know, the one responsible for fictional universes? Like with games and movies and tv shows?” Delta typed.
“Buddy I literally live in a Minecraft universe.” Mewender said, a tone of annoyance lacing it.
“My universe is literally a game in your world.” Shmin typed, sending a picture of what only could be the Five Night’s at Freddy’s Three mock office.
“Point taken.” Delta stated.
“So if Crow’s the Creator, What world did she make?” Anna spoke.
“Brokenverse, aka Scolvell, Stardust Splinters... oh, and Borinules.” I typed, thinking over my answer.
“HOLY SHIT. THREE?! SCOLVELL AND THE MUCINFICTA DIMENSION NO LESS?!” Proxil yelled in the chat.
“So it’s your fault Shatter was kidnapped?” Anna typed.
“I thought all of this was fictional! I didn’t know it was real!” I typed back, wanting to leave, walk away and never come back.
[Universe 20000001 has joined the chat.]
My blood went cold.
“Shatter?” I typed, and the chat went silent.
I knew this wasn’t going to go well. | Me! Yeah, I am one of those who have a habit of creating their own WhatsApp group just to post in todo lists and notes. But 255 members? How can there be so many members in the group? I remember, I did add my other contact someday, to have a sync between two phones, but 1+1 is 2, not 255 in any math. Even if I put every contact of mine in the same place, I cant reach such number. I don't even know this many people.
As I opened the group chat. Everybody was writing welcome C-137. Now, who is this C-137? I opened the group member list to know more. Strange enough, everything was such usernames, and C-137 was what was written in front of me. As if it's not enough to lose my shit already that I received a personal message from someone named A-007. "Just wait a minute why are all name so fucked up! And why don't I get to choose a cool number as 007" I murmured as I rolled my Eye across the text? It read, "You might be confused what's going on... Relax you will get used to it... The multiverse exists, but not as many as pop culture sci-fi's suggest. God used only 8 bit's to encode the multiverse, and this is all you from 256 different multiverses. Sad enough 1 alternative of you already died."
Panicked, Freaked or whatsoever you might say I started recollecting if I had drugs last night. I did have a little cannabis, but for a seasoned guy like me, it's never enough to trip to this extent. One strange thing I recollect is reading an article on the 4chan forum of multiverse conspiracy, with a link to a site to a site to a site which said, "Do you really wanna open up to the possibilities?" I don't recollect anything more after the click. It's like the next thing I know is I wake up on my bad with these many messages from some random group saying its all me.
I opened the group and replied back. Hi, there I am new to this could any of me show me how it works... Let's explore what it turns out...! | 2019-09-06T03:12:01 | 2019-09-06T00:19:04 | 23 | 17 |
[WP] "You are truly as strong as the legends say, Dark Lord. Finally a worthy opponent!" exclaimed the hero. You don't have the heart to tell him that you're actually the Dark Lord's lowest ranked soldier and that he is in fact, incredibly weak. | **"You are truly as strong as the legends say, Dark Lord. Finally a worthy opponent!"**
*Man, this kid was persistent. Not only am I not, in fact, the Dark Lord, I haven't ever even met the guy. After all, why would his Eminence even deign to look at a low level commander, much less someone who was essentially a grunt for grunts. In fact, I was probably the farthest away from the Dark Lord one could get in his Eminence's Great Army. Sure, demons tended to be stronger than the average human, but I'm not even really a demon, as my bloodline had been tainted by some malevolent spirits 5 generations ago. I had been sent off to deliver a letter to the mistress of the grunt I served under, who believed himself to be the next Grand General, despite the fact that he was a scum sucker who was engaged to 3 different women, along with having relationships with 5 or 6 others. Given his track record, he was far more likely to be injured or killed in some 'unfortunate accident'.*
"And now, I shall taste victory with my ultimate move! Cower before me!"
*Oh right. The, uh, 'hero'. I don't understand how someone could possibly be that dumb, to think that I was the Dark Lord, Killer of Kings, Destroyer of Deities. Unless, of course, someone cursed him with delusions, or maybe he was just suffering from dehydration due to the amount of spit that left his mouth each time he made one of his pitiful attempts to yell. Maybe he won't notice if I just, play dead. Worth a try.*
He shouted, or tried to shout, as a ball of green emerged from his cupped hands. It lazily moved towards me, stuttering and vanishing about a foot away from my chest.
*Here goes nothing.* I somewhat gently kneeled, and then fell to the side, using some minor illusions to hopefully make it a little more convincing.
"And now I shall take my trophy, to prove to the village that I am strong! I shall take his head!"
*What. I thought he would just leave me alone, but I guess not. After all, why would it be that easy to get rid of him.*
The boy who proclaimed himself as a hero walked over and knelt, grabbing his sword. He attempted to saw through my neck, to no avail. *It certainly didn't help that his sword was cheap, and felt no sharper than a stick."*
"I have decided to be kind, and leave him his head!" *Oh boy, what now?* "Instead, I shall take a trophy from his pack!" He said, reaching in and grabbing at something. As he walked away, I could see that he took the letter. *Of course he took the the letter.* I sighed, waiting till he was satisfied and started trouncing off, no longer paying attention to his 'fallen' enemy. I slowly got up, falling into step behind him before cuffing him over the head. As he fell, he muttered something about being foiled again, like this was some kind of routine occurrence. I grabbed the letter and got back on the trail, hoping that I could reach the next town before dark. | "You are a worthy adversary. In any other circumstance, I would've loved to be your comrade..."
*(Please stop, if this keeps up I won't be able to keep a straight face!)*
"What is commendable is that you're still standing. As expected of the Hero."
*(Did I say that right? Crap, this is so awkward...)*
"I'm just getting warmed up!"
*(No, you're DYING, you idiot! Just stay down!)*
He charges at me, telegraphing his attacks with every movement. How this moron became the hero of legend eludes me. Frankly, it embarrasses me that my boss has been taking this guy so seriously.
"Come on! Are you even trying?!"
*(No, you just suck.)*
He attacks with such ferocity, too. Maybe too much ferocity. I mean, taking him seriously is just too hard. I can't bear to tell him I'm the guy who drew the short straw at lunch and had latrine duty assigned for tonight.
Another overhead blow. I take my chance and knock his sword off his hand before pointing my admittedly battered sword to his neck.
I should probably say something before the silence becomes awkward.
"Killing you now would pose no challenge. Leave, and know that it was by my mercy that you survived."
*(The boss will kill me if he catches me doing impressions of him.)*
The Hero defiantly glares a hole into my face before slowly backing away, picking up his sword and making his way to the door.
As the door closes, I make my way to a nearby closet. These bloodstains on the floor won't mop themselves... | 2020-04-27T22:33:44 | 2020-04-27T21:30:52 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] After a grueling battle with a new supervillain, you emerge victorious, but pass out from your injuries. You awaken in a hospital room to find your wounds cleaned and bandaged. Suddenly, your arch-nemesis enters the room, clearly unhappy. "Good, you're awake. We need to talk." | “We need to talk.”
Words you wouldn’t want to hear from a girlfriend, let alone an arch nemesis. But then again, your relationship with Flareup wasn’t all too much different. You two fought, occasionally hospitalised each other, had amazing makeup se-NO NO NO. Your face burned as you recalled *that* particular dalliance. You two claimed it was due to the Mind Doctor’s work, and it was, but it wasn’t exactly the start of your attraction towards each other…
You shake yourself back into the present, and pay attention to the pissed off villainess in front of you. She’s clearly unimpressed, fully aware of what you were thinking about, but the faint blush lets you know she was also thinking the same thing. Still, her single-mindedness comes back and she returns to her initial stance.
“We need to talk.”
Making a show of it, you comically look around the hospital bed, giving special attention to the way your legs were bandaged and clearly incapacitated. You can’t help a small note of excitement in your voice, however, as you quip “Not like I’m going anywhere.”
“Good.” The joke completely slides by Flareup and she immediately begins her tirade. “What was that?”
You didn’t expect her to attack the issue with this much directness, so you stammer a bit as you answer, “It-it- it was just a little brawl-“
“A little brawl that sent you into the hospital?” Flareup was tapping her foot now, and small plumes of smoke were spiralling up from her hair. Ooh… she’s started subconsciously activated her powers. Even you know that the question was rhetorical, and you look away while clamming up. Best to find cover before the volcano explodes.
“I was watching the whole thing, you know. I saw how you got knocked around by that complete newbie, and took more lumps than you should’ve. What was that all about? Why were you going to so easy on them?”
Flareup begins wagging her finger at you, and you cringe back as you realise this is the same finger that burned through City Bank’s main vault in a matter of minutes.
“Is this some kind of joke to you, or something? Do you not value your life? Do not not take *us* seriously? “
The rivalry between you two has generated lots of media coverage over the past few months, and you’re both willing to admit that it’s done extremely well for your careers. You immediately answered “No, no way. I take this very seriously.”, but then you realised this was a mistake.
“So why did you go so easy on that damn newbie? Are you trying to train up another arch-nemesis? Are you trying to get rid of me?” Flareup drew her arms closer to herself, her insecurity showing in her voice and body posture, and a vicious twinge of guilt pulls at your throat. She threw an entire car at you last week… why are you feeling so guilty?
You decide to try and explain it logically. “It was just a newbie, Flare. I’m not going to go full out on some kid who just got their powers last week. Hell, I rarely go full out on anybody *other* than you. “
Flareup looks slightly less angry, and she’s stopped the tapping, so you decide to try and shift the topic. “So… what was it about you watching the whole thing? You’re following me now?”
“WHAT?”
Oops. OH GOD. Flareup’s hair completely ignited, and her hands started to look more like claws than actual digits. She immediately begins yelling.
“DON’T EVEN THINK YOU’RE ANYWHERE NEAR IMPORTANT ENOUGH FOR ME TO KEEP AN EYE ON, LET ALONE SLIP A TRACKER INTO THEIR LEFT SHOELACE! I WAS JUST IN THE AREA, YOU KNOW. GOD, VEX. IT’S LIKE YOU LIKE ME OR SOMETHING.”
Ahah, now that anger turned into embarrassment. And instead of fire, she was now fuming. You can’t help but smile at that adorably angry face, and a dumb little idea comes to mind. Time to poke the fire even more. When Flareup opens her mouth to further yell, a twitch of your hand makes a moderate-strength air eddy between her and your bed. She’s immediately caught up in it, and goes flying across the room. With a twist of your hand, you stop her motion and catch her with your other arm. You quickly kiss her on her forehead, and watch as her face immediately turns beet red.
Haha… you feel the room heat up, and propel yourself out of the window. Your aerokinesis catches you and lets you fly away, while Flareup immediately destroys the hospital room you were just in. She’d definitely get revenge for that next time, but you were happy that there’d just be a next time at all. After all, she was your arch-nemesis, and you were her hero. As things should be, as things would always be. | Justice took in his surroundings as he fluttered open his eyes. White walls. Bright lights. Tubes. Beeping. Hospital. He scrunched his eyes together and tried to remember what had happened to get him here.
&nbsp;
“Good, you’re awake. We need to talk”
&nbsp;
Justice’s eyes snapped open and adrenaline flooded his system as his eyes locked on Tormentor. Justice was only dimly aware of the pain as he stumbled from his bed. Just as he was about to trip over the tubes that were attached to him, a doctor rushed in and caught him, pushing him back into bed.
&nbsp;
‘I told you that you needed to give him more time before you spoke to him. I told you this would be his reaction,’ she scolded as she reattached anything that had fallen out.
&nbsp;
Tormentor rolled his eyes and shook his head, ‘He’ll be fine, I’ve seen him in a worse state than this before. I’ve even been the one to put him in that state’
&nbsp;
The doctor turned to The Tormentor, hands on her hips, ‘I know you have, and that’s why having you as the first person that he sees after everything that he’s been through was lunacy’
&nbsp;
Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, Justice was heavily regretting his small excursion from his bed. Pain bounced around inside his head and he groaned in pain, causing him to scrunch his eyes closed. When the worst of the pain had gone, he creaked open his eyes and mumbled to the nurse, ‘You know who he is right? Why is he here? He’s dangerous’
&nbsp;
The doctor now turned back to Justice, a scowl on her face, ‘Right now, you’re more of a danger to yourself than he is. Just lie still would you. You hero types always think that the laws of medicine don’t apply to you. Tormentor here has some things he would like to discuss with you, he’s not here to hurt you. In my hospital violence is banned,’ as she said the last word she made a pointed look at Tormentor.
&nbsp;
‘Don’t worry about it doc, I have no desire to hurt my dear friend here, he’s already done a good enough job of that already’
&nbsp;
With one last look between the two of them, the doctor left the room.
&nbsp;
‘How much do you remember?’ Tormentor asked.
&nbsp;
‘What makes you think that I’m going to tell you anything about what happened to me?’
&nbsp;
Tormentor shook his head, ‘Just tell me, I’m here to help’
&nbsp;
Justice looked at Tormentor for a good moment, ‘I can’t’
&nbsp;
‘What do you mean you can’t?’
&nbsp;
‘I don’t remember anything about what happened’
&nbsp;
‘Nothing at all? How hard did he hit you?’
&nbsp;
Justice thought for a moment, ‘I don’t think that’s it. I remember everything up until the fight, just nothing about the fight itself, or even who I was fighting. Why are you even interested in helping me?’
&nbsp;
Tormentor shook his head, ‘This is going to be harder than I originally expected.’ | 2020-10-07T05:17:10 | 2020-10-07T03:02:45 | 78 | 58 |
[WP] A misunderstood race, the invade not to conquer; no, they invade worlds that seem forever divided, in a last-ditch attempt to unite species before they wipe themselves out. | “Look, you can flash your little plasma weapons around and try to scare us with those flying warships all you want. If you think we’re going to just kowtow in front of you and hand over the keys to the United States, you’re sorely mistaken. I’d sooner nuke this country to hell before handing it to you in a damn gift basket. ”
“I am afraid you have no other option, Mr. President. Your administration stands as the final holdout. All of your counterparts from abroad have already capitulated to the Eqronian Confederacy’s demands.”
“Because they’re a bunch of spineless pissants that beg and lick at our feet for us to protect them. Don’t get cocky just because you steamrolled your way through those rejects. If you think we’ll go down that easily, you’ve got another thing com-”
“A correction, Mr. President. Your visual recording devices will show it was your counterparts that rejected our initial attempts at diplomacy and initiated hostilities. Even then, our troops demonstrated moderation and conducted surgical strikes with minimal casualties as a show of force. Should you choose to reject our offer, we will pursue a similar strategy.”
“Yeah? And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“We will eliminate the key members of your administration, yourself included. The vast majority of your people have vocally opposed your refusal to accept our offer to incorporate the nations of Earth into the Confederacy. Given enough time, your people will eventually select a leader who represents their immediate interests. Is that not a key tenet of your nation’s ideology?”
“Listen, you bug-eyed fuck. Don’t you dare try to lecture me on my own country’s ideology. We might have gotten a bad rap for sticking our fingers in places where they don’t belong, but don’t think you can act all high and mighty to me when you’re doing the exact same thing.”
“Again, you are mistaken, Mr. President. We do not aim to conquer your species. We aim to unify it.”
“Right. ‘Unify’ mankind to be your personal bootlickers, am I right?”
“No. The member states of the Confederacy have the right to self-governance, so long as they continue to maintain peace within their respective territories. Our forces will only intervene when this condition is not met.”
“Sounds like a load of horseshit to me. You think *you* can do any better than us at keeping the peace around here?”
“Absolutely. Your historical records show that diplomacy has often been the alternative to your species, a secondary fallback to the far more lucrative path of war. Left to its own devices, humanity will inevitably extinguish itself. As such, it requires the intervention of the Eqronian Confederacy if it wishes to survive for the foreseeable future.”
“This is crazy. I mean, this is absolutely insane.”
“The time for decision is at hand, Mr. President. Concede to us, and you will be allowed to maintain your seat of power. Fail to do so, and you will be eliminated.”
“…”
“Make your decision, Mr. President.”
“You know what? When I took office, I swore an oath to protect this country from all invaders beyond our borders and within. And I can’t call myself the President of the United States if I just hand over the country on a silver platter and become a glorified puppet for your masters. You and your Confederacy can go fuck yourselves. We’ll take our chances. But mark my words. You’d best be ready, cause I’m not going down without a hell of a fight.”
“Then we have no need for further discussion. Let us hope your successor is more willing to listen to reason.”
r/williamk9949 | "So the first thing I want to tell you guys about us is that you weren't the only ones. We do this all the time ok, and now you guys are better for it."
"So you're saying you did this for our own good"
"Welllll... ya you guys were going to wipe yourselves out we didn't want to see that happen.
"you didn't want to see that happen, YOU DIDN'T WANT TO SEE THAT HAPPEN, WHAT IF YOU WERE TO MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS AND THINK BEFORE YOU KILL TWO AND A HALF BILLION PEOPLE.
"two and four tenths of a billion actually"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP, I'D HAVE HALF A MIND TO GLASS YOUR WHOLE FUCKING PLANET RIGHT NOW.
"i think we should all remain calm and not do that"
"DON'T TELL ME TO calm down again"
"yes sir"
"Ok so let's get back on track how do you plead"
"Not guilty"
"NOT GUILTY, THIS IS FUCKING ABSURD"
"Well I've already told you the reasons for why we did what we did"
"Well I'm happy to say that you failed"
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE FAILED, IF YOU GUYS WEREN'T UNITED HOW'D YOU GET HERE"
"Any alliance we may have made as a result of your peoples meddling is only temporary, and once we're done here everything will go back to normal, but thanks to you guys it will be normal but in space, maybe even worse than normal considering the arms race you just started"
"Oh"
"Ok this was just a formality anyways we all know your guilty, from now you aren't allowed to have a military force of any kind and your not allowed to be in space, and to inforce this we will station guards above your planet and destroy any ships that attempt to leave.
(Thanks for reading this is the first time I've written a story with just people talking any constructive criticism is welcome :) ) | 2020-06-20T15:38:18 | 2020-06-20T14:42:40 | 103 | 22 |
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