prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second... | It was 11:59 and while the whole family gathered around, my mother was no where to be seen. I expected that she would have joined us. After all, she'd been there for my older sister's reveal, and my brother's reveal. But instead she was watering the garden while it rained steadily.
C'mon, mom, I know I'm not your favorite, but you could at least put on a front this time.
"It's noon!" my sister squealed. "Pullupyoursleeve!"
A moment of dread shot through me. I can't say that I knew exactly what was wrong, but I knew that something wasn't right. There was no tingling in my arm, just a feeling in the pit of my stomach that told me something was going to be revealed today and I wasn't going to like it.
I pulled up my sleeve and no words appeared. Frantically, I pulled up the other sleeve, shoving it all the way up to my armpit. It had to be there. My sister tugged my shirt up, peeking under it. Not that the words ever appeared anywhere besides on your dominant forearm. "Where is it?"
"He won't get it yet," my mother barked from the sliding glass door. "He's not going to be 18 for another two months."
"What?" I yelped. "Today's my birthday!" My sister's hands fell and my shirt slid back down into place.
My mother shook her head. "You're father and I were separated, and I met a man..." she said quietly, her round eyes darting towards my father.
"You said the baby was mine! You said he was just early!" my father shouted.
She crumpled into a chair, her wet hair dripping onto her face. Her mouth wobbled and she stared at the floor. "He's not and he wasn't."
Two months and three days later, my parents' marriage was in shambles, and I walked into my sister's room, pulled up my sleeve, and showed her the words that had appeared the day before. "MARRIAGE COUNSELOR"
| *11:59 PM*
My family gathered around me, silently waiting. We were all eagerly anticipating the Choosing, a lame name for a cool time.
*12:00 PM*
My mother smiled at me. She grabbed my arm and looked as the word as it appeared.
"What is it?" a chorus of family members asked.
She frowned. I took my arm back and took one hard look.
**Nudist.** | 2017-03-16T03:19:48 | 2017-03-16T02:03:50 | 129 | 71 |
[WP] She's funny, she's beautiful, and she's into you. She'd be perfect except for one tiny detail: The snakes in her hair despise you. | Her smile was so perfect to me. Her eyes froze me in place like stone. Her skin faintly shone under the moon like twilight. This was our fourth week seeing one another, and every time I saw her I felt at peace. Last night, Maddy (She loved my nickname for her) sent me a text saying she’s never had feelings for someone like me before. That’s when I knew she was the one for me.
Tonight,she invited me over to her apartment, and I agreed. My heart definitely skipped a few as we walked up to her place, perhaps it was from her poison lips after we kissed. But the lovemaking was magical, mystical, and enchanting. I was totally captivated - though I must admit her grip strength on my neck had me unconscious for a moment here and there. I could still feel her hand impressions around my neck, we could work on the foreplay next time. And after it was over, she asked for me to stay the night. I felt a bit embarrassed after I blurted out “Yes!” instantaneously. But there we were, in her bed, and she was fast asleep.
There was only one issue, it wasn't a big issue, but it *was* an issue we couldn't ignore.
“Kill yoursssself…” They whispered in unison.
I couldn’t sleep with them whispering to me like that. Maddy however, was unfazed by their noise, and continued to snore away.
“Kill yoursssself…” They whispered again.
They did try to kill me as we made love too, it scared me out of my mood. But Maddy said they were just “Playing one of their cruel jokes” on me for shits and giggles. I still have bite marks around my nose and chest. I couldn’t just ‘ignore’ them, per se. Since they were part of Maddy, her hair-snakes. She told me each of their names on our first date, there's Buttercup, Monty, Jackssson, Sweet-pea, Lochlin, and her favourite: Pythagoros.
“Kill yoursssself…” They whispered a third time.
“I will not do so.” I finally spoke in a low-tone.
“You should, then we won’t have to kill you.” Monty replied.
“Such a tough guy. You should learn to like me, I’m here to stay.”
“We’ve been with mum for three-millennia, we’ve seen men come and go.”
“I will not come and go, thank you very much. I really like your mother.”
They hissed with intense venom in their voice. I supposed that they did not enjoy sass. Maddy awoke from her snoring to the ruckus between her children and I.
“What’s wrong babe?” She asked me with a voice that melted my butter.
“Nothing…Just some late night conversation with your kids.” I replied.
“They didn’t threaten you again…did they?”
“No mum! We just set some friendly…boundariesss.” Pythagoros retorted. Maddy looked at me for confirmation.
“Yep! No threats whatsoever Maddy-poo.” I lied. The snakes cringed at my nicknames for her. I felt a sense of pride nibbling at their egos.
“I love you so much, never leave me.” She exclaimed. She had the strength of four-battalions as she grabbed my frame to cuddle. Her hold on me meant my breathing would be strained for the rest of the evening together, but I did not mind. I peered over her shoulder at her bedside-table; a mummified, decapitated head lay there, watching me as we snuggled. The man’s eyes were shot open, the expression of horror still on his face. Maddy told me the last man who she dated - I believe his name was Percy - was frozen in stone “by accident,” by her children. I would be lying if I weren't to say I was a teeny-bit scared.
“Good night babe.” Maddy said as she drifted off back to sleep.
“Good night Maddy…” I began.
“Good night…Ssssleep with one eye open tonight, Jonathan.” Her children whispered as they slithered beside my ear.
I lied, I was definitely scared for my life. | It wasn’t long before Jane moved in with me. It was a match made in heaven, she had the perfect smile, she laughed at all my jokes and she made me feel like I wasn’t alone in this world. However what drew me towards her the most was her thick lustrous hair. I had never seen such a beautiful head of hair on anyone before in my life, it almost seemed like her hair had a life of her own and it drew me in by its incredible beauty.
It was pretty innocuous in the beginning but I started noticing a few things a week after she moved in. Her hair would move in an unusual way sometimes, like when we were out shopping in the nearby grocery store, it must have been the breeze I tried to convince myself even though it was indoors, it must have been the air conditioning i told myself, after all that would explain the hissing noise I heard as well, I mean it couldn’t be snakes in her hair could it, it cannot be, not again…
As the days went by it became more and more difficult to convince myself that it was just the wind or the air conditioning. When I slept next to her at night, I had an eerie feeling that something was watching me from within her hair, it was waiting for a chance for me to drop my guard and it would strike when I was at my most vulnerable.
I couldn’t sleep for weeks, and it showed, my work at the pet crematorium was getting affected and I had deep dark circles under my eyes. However, I couldn’t tell her what I had seen, this was a problem I had to fix myself, otherwise she too might think I was crazy.
That night it was extremely difficult to stay awake, I was sleepless for more than a week now, all the coffee in the world would not help me, and I could sense that the snakes in her hair knew this and they were biding their time, hiding in her locks ready to strike.
I could see her hair move again, they were getting in position, my eyes were closing even though I tried my hardest to keep them open. I had to act now, or else this would be my last sleep. I saw a sudden movement and I instinctively reached out and picked up the vase from my bedside table and struck the snake before it could strike me.
I will tell Jane all about it in the morning, I am sure she will believe me now.
Somehow she managed to sleep through the whole thing, she wasn’t even moving, must be a blessing to sleep so peacefully.
There is nothing to fear now. The snakes are dead, I can finally sleep too. | 2022-09-18T11:23:31 | 2022-09-18T10:57:17 | 31 | 16 |
[WP] After bitting a Fae, the Vampire claims that she must serve him, for his bite converted her into his thrall. The Fae claims that the Vampire must serve her, for the vampire ate fae food without her permission. As none of them is willing to give up, they bring the case to you, a lawyer. | "I'm afraid I'm going to need a great deal more detail in order to give this case the most informed, considered, and lawful judgement of which I am capable at this time," said the enormous blond man behind the desk.
The vampire hissed at him- but did not attempt to cross the wooden barrier. It... radiated, in a way he could not identify, but felt strangely hot.
"We didn't ask for *judgement*," the younger of the disputing pair spat, "we want to know who wins!"
The blond waited; when the vampire was silent for a moment, he turned to the Fae.
"Do you have any protest you wish to lodge, Gentle Neighbor?"
The woman, who was seated in another chair that radiated strangely, had her face in a disquieting mask of neutrality, and pursed her lips just slightly.
"I have no wish to bother the courts with a relatively minor contractual...mishap," she said after a moment, hands folded in her lap.
The Vampire hated how strange she looked like that- passive and pretty and hiding all the wonderful, terrifying, petty little points and edges she possessed, like the teeth she'd tried to take off his arm with. Oh wait, she was still talking.
"As you are in the practice of contract law, and considered a specialist in your trade, for which of course we would compensate you for investing your time should we come to an agreement, I, at least, would indeed abide by the ruling of your arbitration so as to not trouble higher authorities with petty matters. In that, I did request you consider giving this matter your judgement, but I can see that the other party does not agree. As we know, that means we cannot proceed."
Wait, fuck, what?!
"Hold the fuc-"
**"Sit."**
The vampire was in the other chair without knowing how he'd gotten there and definitely without his permission. The man behind the desk stood; he *must* have some Giant in him or something to be that damn big.
"To clarify for the youngest in the room: in order for this matter to be settled by me in particular, all parties must agree to abide by the ruling the adjunct, in this case myself, comes to after presented with every fact, fiction, memory, false narrative, scent, glamour, and body state. At the moment, one party, that of the Gentle Neighbor, agrees to abide by the adjudicator's conclusion, and one party, that of the Esteemed Lord of the Night, does not agree to abide by the adjudicator's conclusion. As *consent* stands at this present moment, no proceedings can begin, as not all parties have consented to proceedings. The options to proceed are as follows: The Lord of the Night does not change his decision, and this matter cannot go forward with me, which would mean both parties would have to seek out a more suitable arbiter to settle the matter at hand; or the Lord of the Night chooses to abide by the conclusion the adjucator draws and the matter can proceed here and now with relating of information."
"Can't you even tell me why you need more information than you got already?" the vampire regretted the moment he spoke; it was his nemesis who answered, her eyes ringed with the red of true anger.
"No. His time is not free; do not insult him by implying the years he has spent learning which details are important and which are not is such simple information you may receive the fruits of his labor without any payment. We cannot settle the issue between us without aid. If he wants to know if I was wearing enchanted undergarments on the day in question, I will tell him- because he knows what details tilt the debt one way or another, and I do *not*."
The blond head inclined in a gesture of respect.
"I appreciate your respect for my labor, Gentle Neighbor. Thankfully, enchantments on undergarments are usually only significant in cases when clothing came off, which by the sound of your case did not happen," he mused, tapping two fingers on his chin thoughtfully.
The vampire ground his teeth, tried to rise from the chair to pace, found he couldn't, and gripped the armrests until they creaked.
"*Fine*. I'll agree to submit to your judgement."
"That means we can proceed, if the Gentle Neighbor's agreement has not changed?"
"It has not."
"Excellent. You may call me Esquire or Ink. What may I call the Gentle Neighbor and the Esteemed Lord of the Night, for clarity of the documents?"
"Lady Indigo," the Fae replied, like she'd been waiting for that.
"Darkness," the vampire shot back- wanting to sound as impressive as her.
"Mmm. So one Younger Folk and one Neobyte- I'm required to legally classify you, unfortunately, and neither of you appear to be older than 500, though I may, of course, be wrong."
(part 1/7) | The benefit of age is the opportunity of exploration, expericing new situations, and a wealth of personal anecdotes to amuse friends. Lawyer across species often quarrel with one another about the intricasies of case law, or squabble over generational rivalries, but the universal law when dealing with cross-species cases was that teenagers were absolutely the worst. That's where I came in.
"She bite me right before lunch! It's not like this is complicated. Clearly, eating fae food without my explicit approval is tantamount to Section 3, subs-"
Holding up my hand, I pointed out on page in front of her, "Only items as listed in Subsection A. Unless you are deferring to Section 8, Part 3 amended with the only case where Fae cannibalism was suggested, but not proven."
"Hah! See? That means you're my thrall!" The were-woman hollered out, almost frenzied with hairs standing on the back of her neck.
It was my turn again to hush the pair of them as they started to argue. "First off, you are already on probation, and are in violation of your parole. You should see to it that you speak to your juvenile public case defender." I sighed closing the book with a quiet "thwump." The old leather was no match for the test of time, but it was surprisingly quiet as the pair listened.
"Second, as you can clearing see by her behaviour," pointing to the Fae. "She has complete control over her faculties and thus cannot be your thrall at this stage. If that was the case, you would have exerted your mastery over her by this stage. Even a juvenile werewolf or were-woman would be able to overpower a similarly aged Fae."
The Fae pouted at this comment. I hadn't needed for her to provider her name, her powers or any other personal information. Just suggesting that she lived in the nicer part of the forest, wandering around at midnight on a festival frequented by were-people meant she was naive. That and her Fae Scout badge betrayed her age.
"At this stage, your Fae victim would normally be allowed to press charges of assault. But, given her age, and that she is likely lost from her group, I think her guardians might be more interested in her presence."
The were-woman howled, the Fae continued to pout. I climbed down from the step ladder I frequently brought. "I suggest that you wait for the parole officer for your were-woman, and continue to put pressure on the arm to prevent excessive bleeding. The bandage I brought is only temporary."
Zipping up my briefcase, I handed them both my card. "You have my summoning card, please summon when should you require my services."
The Fae perked up, "But you haven't decided who should serve who!"
I smiled. "You two are too young. A court would throw both of your cases out immediately if you two weren't thrown in the dungeon by your parents." Pointing at the Fae, "You, seek medical attention."
Switching to the were-woman. "You, wait for the parole officer. Goodnight." | 2022-07-11T21:15:02 | 2022-07-11T19:00:25 | 83 | 52 |
[WP] When two people get married, on the day of the wedding they are both given the ability to alter the appearance of their spouse to anything they wish. How do they change each other? How do they respond to what has been done to them? | It was a chilled autumn evening when Jaina’s cold ring finger was suddenly surrounded by a warmth that ran up to her knuckle.
“Will you marry me?” said Jonathan.
To him, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. And in that brief moment, perhaps just long enough to say “yes,” Jonathan became the happiest man in the world.
For years, Jonathan had wondered if he would ever get married. Although he has been told that he had gorgeous eyes (his best friend, Kayla, always told him he had the doe eyes), he had never been complimented in any other way. He was on the shorter side. The many years he spent sitting in front of a screen writing millions upon millions of lines of code left him in a rather… Well, he was in shape. He was just a circle.
Frankly, Jonathan was just happy that someone finally loved him for… Well… Him!
The days flew by as their wedding day approached.
The night before their wedding, a strange spirit appeared before the couple.
“On the day of your wedding, I shall allow you each to alter the appearances of one another as you so please!”
*poof*
The spirit vanished.
“The Hell was that?” Asked Jaina.
“I honestly have no clue. Like we literally had no dialogue, this spooky ghost just appears before us, and tells us this. I don’t know what to tell you.”
“I mean… I guess we could give it a try? Let’s just both think of how we want each his other to look, and maybe this isn’t some wacky prank.”
“If that’s really what you want, I guess I’ll do it.”
A day passed.
Jonathan looked in the mirror. He looked nothing like he used to. He had broad shoulders, chiseled six pack abs, and blue eyes.
He texted Jaina and they met up immediately.
Jaina was furious as she angrily exclaimed, “What the Hell!!! I thought you agreed to make me look perfect! YOU got to become the perfect man. But I’m still stuck here with freakin’ B-cups!”
Jonathan stared into her eyes. “My dear, I always thought you were perfect just the way you are.”
Jaina quickly responded, “Look, we can always fix some of these issues later, but I can’t believe you wasted this magic wish! Now we have to get plastic surgery, which could leave scars on me! HOW COULD YOU BE THIS SELFISH???”
“… Goodbye,” said Jonathan as he began to walk away. Tears began dripping down the side of his cheek.
Jonathan then sent Kayla a quick text: “You were right.”
An instant response, “No worries! You’ll always have me around! You still on for coming with me to that Chess tournament on Saturday?”
Jonathan smiled and texted back a simple “yes.” | “Bigger”
I said sternly looking at my husbands little man down there, Bigger.
“Bigger?”
He asked confused looking down at the thing as-well “Its like seven inches long, Any bigger would eve a hindrances to my daily life!” He tried to rebutt it but I was determined! DETERMINED to make it AtLeast 12 inches.
“MORE, BIGGER”
I scream, my spouse was obviously in a mix of shock and confusion as he watched myself go ham on the fact I wanted the man down there to be twelve inches…
“I AM NOT MAKING MY FOOT LONGER AGAIN! YOU ADDED 7 INCHES AND NOW YOU WANT ANOTHER 12 MORE!
He screamed, has he gone mad perhaps?
“ITS THE TREND! PLUS YOU WALK FASTER!”
“Bitch, if I am walking with a god damn foot this long each step will launch to the sky, and I ain’t no catapult!”
My husband maidenly rabbled, I cant believe he was this dumb!
“Wait…”
My husband paused, looking down
“Dear, are you lesbian?”
He concernly asked
“It’s Punishment for you not wanting the long feet!”
“Dear, You do realize I aswell can alter your body” | 2022-12-08T00:57:21 | 2022-12-07T20:59:42 | 40 | 14 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | Treg'Luf'Arwa couldn't believe his eyes. He doubted that his Father, Luf'Arwa'Yos, or his father's father, Arwa'Yos'Hul, would've believe their eyes either, had they come to see this day.
Fire had been raining on his planet for days now. The home planet of his species being the latest conquest for the Gaouls, a ferocious, carnivorous meat eating reptile species that must've, he guessed, discovered space travel through chance alone. They took to it like canine teeth to raw meat, however, and they were currently the deadliest force in the galaxy.
He, that is to say, Treg was one of the last soldiers on the planet, his entire family had been shipped off to a refugee camp a few weeks ago as every single last of his kind in fighting shape prepared for their final stand. Three nights prior, he had heard over the communications relay that the Homo Sapiens would be entering in the fight against the Gaouls. He understood why, and didn't blame them for not entering earlier. The planet he called his home, Cip-5, was very near some human colonies, relatively. If they feel, their farms were next. Support was supposed to arrive today, and damn if it hadn't.
First were the railshots. Railshots, for those who don't know, were intended solely for ranged empty space skirmishes, meant to rip open hulls and tear through engines. The only reason they weren't used in atmospheric battles was because accuracy could be off in such an enviroment, with increased gravity and the physics nightmare that is air itself. The humans, however, didn't seem to worry about such a thing, merely aiming their ships directly at the planet, and raining down tungsten rods like raindrops.
Next were the dropships. He couldn't be sure, as both his ears were ringing and it's entirely possible that his universal translator, located in his skull, was damaged in the earthshaking first offense by the earthlings, but he swore that the dropships were playing... music? While the words were hard to make out, the words "Senator's son" and "It ain't me!" were clear enough.
The oddest thing? After they had found him among the rubble, and began to patch up his wounds, he looked over their weapons. Some were indeed wielding the latest in plasma-pulse technology, firing miniature balls of perfectly round electric energy, while others had them slung across their backs, instead choosing to use what looked like tools that belonged in a museum. The metal was so dark, it looked like iron, and certain pieces, he thought he was dreaming, were they wood?
The Gaouls couldn't stand up to it. Every single trick Treg could think of was pulled, including several he would never have considered, like small man excursions onto Gaoul ships to slam them into ground camps, pulling engines off grounded dropships just to overload them and have them turn city-sized plots of land into glass floors, and, he couldn't believe his eyes when he saw this, all 8 of them, slamming the Gaoul's moon into their homeworld in a secret military operation.
Cheers went up when the Gaouls finally declared their surrender to the Alliance. Treg, glancing around, saw a single man with a scowl on his face, running a stone down a piece of what seemed to be sharpened steel with a leather grip. In fact, there was much about the man that was odd. Instead of the lightly armored dark grey camouflage pants that seemed to be standard issue, he wore some odd, brightly colored open cloth. On his back was a series of bags that wheezed with his movements, as if they were their own creature. When Treg finally got up the courage to ask the biped what was wrong, the man snapped back to reality for a second, looking the Cipentenian up and down before spitting out a black globule of sludge.
"Damn higher ups. If they didn't pull these big goddamn acts of military might, we could've kept this war going another few years." Accentuating the end of the sentence by pulling a load of black flakes out of a small, flimsy container, and shoving it into his cheek.
That day on, Treg offered every single human he saw free meals at his family's restaurant as soon as it was rebuilt on his homeworld. Not on gratitude alone, no, but because he saw exactly what kind of humans existed, and wanted to make sure that one never personally declared war on him or his planet. He doubted there'd be a single survivor.
EDIT: Fixed Treg's name, and changed a few words. Wrote this half asleep. | “Your Grace,” Eddie said, bowing. The King gestured for him to rise in one quick, almost bored, motion. Eddie rose, meeting the King’s eyes. His normally serene face had _twisted_ the past few weeks. The man kept his gray-tinged beard even, but it had grown wildly. Uneven and unlike His Imperial Majesty.
“What news do you bring?” he asked. Behind him Eddie noticed guards shuffle. Once this man fought on the front, notching dozens of kills to his name. Now he sat upon the gilded throne and guided the destiny of his empire.
Eddie hesitated—he knew the King would not like his words. “We launched the first strike. They suffered massive casualties, enough to cripple any world. Millions died.”
The King grinned. “Yes, of course they are crippled,” his voice shook with laughter. “Did I not say this is what would happen?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Eddie bowed his eyes in reverence. Then he continued, “but they’ve rallied. Millions are positioned to hit our western outposts. If those fall then they can strike at the capital of Novas, which would throw the entire western half of the empire into disarray.”
“What?” the King bellowed, rising from his throne. “Explain yourself, Commander Edward.”
Eddie bowed his head. “The casualties they suffered should’ve been enough to cripple. They should have surrendered. Instead they’ve taken every man, woman, and child capable of holding a weapon and have launched a counter offensive. We do not believe them to be overly skilled or organized, but their sheer numbers…”
The King retook his seat. His eyes turned away, hand steepled, face lost in thought. “How long until we can match them?”
“It’ll take us weeks to match their numbers.”
Anger flashed in the King’s eyes. “No, we don’t need to match them. Half of our elite paramilitary units should be enough. They’re skirmishers, not warriors. And once we’ve crushed them I will reunite this empire. Shattered by my forefathers, we will be whole again.”
“Your Grace… during the initial assault we also landed several brigades on the surface of their homeworld. Those men are dead,” Eddie said, his voice almost a whisper.
“You…! How many men have you cost us, Commander Edward? Your incompetence…” the King shook. His lips curled and he snarled. “How many lives will be lost because of you?”
Eddie remained silent, neglecting to mention the order he received. “I apologize, Your Grace. I will rectify this. I swear.”
The King said nothing for a moment. “No. Let them come.” Again the King looked away. “We can use their assault on Novas. Weaken them and some of our vassal colonies. Then reestablish our rule over the west and conquer Earth afterwards.”
“As your command, Your Grace.” Eddie saluted and turned to leave.
“Commander Edward,” the King’s voice called, “do not fail me.”
| 2017-03-05T23:52:37 | 2017-03-05T22:41:12 | 503 | 60 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | Contrary to popular belief, I found out that waiting until the last second does not, in fact, summon a cooler object than if you blow your load at the stroke of midnight on your eighteenth. My acquaintances and friends had all received cool shit - steering wheels that turn into vehicles on a whim; swords and other weapons that obey them and dematerialize at will, even a fucking suitcase always filled with money any time you call it forth. Though I had heard the horror stories as well- trees; sea urchins, bloody asteroids hitting hometowns. You never really knew and some people abstained from the process altogether. But not me.
I planned on reaching my hand out while listening to The Strokes' 'Is This It', my favorite song. My parents insisted on being present but I wanted to be alone in my room. I began lighting candles as a form of ritual and was in complete concentration of what I could want more than anything in the world, knowing I was special enough to maybe get what I asked for. I put on gloves, opened my window, and reached out my hand.
Nothing.
I looked back at the clock - 11:59. Damn. I reached out both hands, just in case, as I watched the long thin ever-moving hand of the clock tick past the 45. 46. 47..
59.. Nothing. I stared blankly at my empty hands. I was too disappointed to be angry, and too sad to go to sleep. I took to the internet looking for stories of people whose hands had failed them until I eventually fell asleep to dreams of me cutting my hands off.
4:35. I woke up to my parents coming into my room, staring at me in worry. "What?" I said, stricken. "Something is going on and we need to start packing. A tornado spurred up last night. Nobody has seen anything like it. We are in its path. Get dressed, we need to go."
I got dressed and grabbed some possessions. We drove south for a couple of hours and managed to only get the initial slow traffic of the people who had woken up as early as my parents. "Turn the radio on, I want to hear if it has hit our hometown yet." After some static, the deep voice on the other side spoke, "the tornado that sporadically spurred up last night has unexpectedly changed its trajectory south. Please be on alert..."
Shit. | I was 17 back then tomorrow wouldve been my 18th birthday the summoning day but i had other worries, the over-populated world caused massive capitalisation of life and made the climate change become a serious problem,I had to do something even when it meant comitting genocide.
Heroes where born with intergalactic weapons and overpowered shields nothing couldve stopped them if they wouldve decided to go evil.
But there I was, freshly 18, it took 20 hours for my special tool to arrive.
A fiercly golden plated glove, with gems of incredible power socketed into each finger, to destroy and to be reborn was the destiny of all life, it just needed an successor, it needed me. | 2019-09-18T08:09:25 | 2019-09-18T07:13:42 | 751 | 67 |
[WP] The supervillain sighs in frustration as he looks at the group of superheroes. "Alright raise your hands if you are adults?" he said. None of them did it. "This battle is canceled and tell your mayor we need to talk! today!" he said angrily.
Whoa, I came back after chores, mobile games, and anime to see so many stories and a handful of awards. I'll read them all in the morning | As the last word slipped from his anger-filled lips a disturbing realization hit the Archdemon, bludgeoning his brain with such force that it pulled him straight out of his all-consuming rage.
Of course these were only children. Their parents were dead. He had killed them all.
The void within began to recede with the absence of rage, and before the battered outskirts of this war-torn city, Imalzadrax, Archdemon of the Damned and the greatest antagonist this world had ever known, dropped to his knees and began to cry.
The children stared out from their hiding places, clenching and unclenching their fists in terror as they waited for the end to come.
But Imalzadrax continued to kneel with his head bowed and his shoulders slooped, staring down at his scarred hands as he experienced every murder anew.
“I have done…,’ he rasped, unable to continue as wisps of black smoke rose from him to dissipate into the open sky. He raised his head, taking in the devastation with a slow sweep. Scores of buildings lay in ruin. Cars overturned. Roads in frozen pulverization, now stilled from the violent convulsions that had buckled city buses into crumpled piles of jagged metal.
A small figure moved in the center of the Archdemon's vision. He focused on the little girl who walked purposely forward, her jaw set in a mask of determination, yet he could clearly see the wild terror roaming freely behind her eyes. And behind that he saw the swirling hate.
She came to a stop a few feet infront of him. “Why do you not fight?” she said, her voice floating quietly through the desolation. To Imalzadrax her small question may as well have been a thunder strike.
He stared at the girl for some time. Behind her other figures began to walk forward. Scores of children stepping into the places their parents once occupied.
“I…,” he said to this brave little girl. “I forget the reason I began to fight in the first place.”
The girl cocked her head. “You had a reason?”
“Actions are nothing but reactions,” Imalzadrax said. “Our lives are an endless string of reacting to what came before…”
The girl thought for a moment, considering him. “I’ve never heard something so stupid in my life,” she finally said, her expression defiant, daring him to strike her down.
Imalzadrax did not strike. Instead he noticed that the black wisps had stopped rising from his body, and then he began to notice everything else again, and in a wave of weakness he plunged the depths of his mind for the safety of the void – that place of revenge-filled fury.
But he found no void to offer refuge. And without the void the guilt and agony came rushing in from all sides so that he saw the girl's dead mother all over again, moments before he burnt her to a crisp on the wind. | "You can get to the Mayor when you get past us!" one of the children in brown furry overalls yelled as he sailed over to Green Death who barely avoided the punch.
"You realize if you touch me you die, right? That's my power." He yelled, the children heroes laughing as the goggled boy chased green death around the stage. The Mayor wasn't picking up the phone.
A hulu hoop smacked him in the face, knocking him over. A young girl began to jump rope over him while the approaching swarm laughed.
He dialed a different number and after a brief explanation, put the phone on speaker. "Go home, now children! Remote learning resumes at one p.m."
"Yes, Mrs. Mason," the kids recited in reluctant unison.
Green Death stood and wiped himself to see his chance at stealing the Hogpie Diamond was driving away. "Curses!" he yelled to the sky. He tripped on the way down the stairs and barely caught himself. He bent down to pick up a fidget spinner covered in some sticky. "I hate children," he said with a sigh.
\---
Thanks for reading.
If you liked this, check out /r/surinical to see more of my prompt responses and other writing. | 2021-04-01T10:11:36 | 2021-04-01T09:58:16 | 203 | 103 |
[WP] "Mom, Dad... I'm adopted." | I said it trying really hard not to cry.
"Mom and dad...I...I know I'm adopted,"
Mom let out a undulating telepathic sob as she fell to her lower tentacles and sort of crumpled on the kitchen floor.
Dad didn't say much. Not in words. Mostly because he also doesn't have vocal chords that can vibrate atmosphere. His scales took on a deep indigo which made me flinch ever since the one time I accidentally killed his favorite pet Twibler by breathing on it.
Dad put down his dinner, it was still twitching so he stabbed it through two of its legs with a fork so it would stay in place.
Mom still sobbed on the floor.
Dad's color returned to its normal neon green as he searched for his translation device. He set it up with practiced delicate movements so his giant pincers didn't snap the thing in half.
The familair pseudo voice of my father announced as my mind reeled from my mother's echoing telepathic sorrow.
TRANSLATION: Dearest male offspring. How did you come about this conclusion?
I would stay strong. I would demand answers. I would also apparently still cry
"I saw it! I saw the pictures of Earth! Why would you do that? Why did the federation kill all of my people! WHY DIDN'T YOU LET ME DIE WITH MY REAL FAMILY?"
My mother's sobs only deepened.
My father grew a deeper violet than I had ever seen and his chitinous outer structure bristled with his poisonous spikes
TRANSLATION: TONE INSUBORDINATE! DECLARATIONS ALL LIES! WE ARE YOUR FAMILY ACTUAL! BIOLOGICAL PARENTS NEGLIGENT! UNFIT! DID NOT PROVIDE PROPER CARE! DID NOT FLEE PLANET TO SAVE OFFSPRING!
Even with Dad's normal issues translating to English I could tell he was flustered and fumbling. I could even see a tinge of ...Orange? I hadn't seen him sad enough to turn orange since Uncle Fleaghr died.
"What do you mean?"
Dad huffed a pheromone filled steam out of his ventral respiratory orifices.
He took a minute to compose himself before gently, slowly signing out again.
TRANSLATION: Your biological parents were PROFANITY WITH NO PROPER TRANSLATION and part of the CENSORED cluster CENSORED that was what we once called humanity. They died fighting for resources in the aftermath of a final world war. One day the STRING OF VIOLENT OBSCENITIES decided they were too low on food and they left you behind.
Dad couldn't find it in himself to keep going.
Mom's sadness tinged her thoughts but her voice was as calm as ever.
*We were stationed there, over the burning waste to see if there was anything that could be saved from the dying planet. But with the burning, the rape, the just outlandish violence that covered the land....we saw no point. Other than you our beautiful son*
She slithered lithely across the room and delicately brushed the tears from my eyes with a precise, gentle flick of her tentacles.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Mom returned away.
The silence was as bad as an answer as I could imagine.
Finally Dad vented more steam and explained
TRANSLATION Humanities final days horrific. Displayed unknown self hostility. Mother and I hid truth to protect you. Did not want you to think you were.......
*A monster*
There was a moment of terrible stillness. My dad as usual recovered first.
TRANSLATION You are our offspring. Enjoy the situation or do not enjoy the situation. We took care from you in your early gestation period. We are your family.
He pushed a squeling ball towards me.
TRANSLATION Consume macromolecules. You must be prepared for Slavke game next solar cycle.
I ate the animal quietly. In the end, it was a lot to digest...my past....not just the dinner. But my dad was right He was my real dad. My mom was my real mom.
Earth was an alien planet that ended a while ago. Humans as alien to me as the bundle of squealing flesh I was currently eating. | Two pairs of concerned eyes looked at me from across the table.
"What did you say David?" my mother said.
"You didn't give birth to me Sarah." I said. "You didn't even conceive me. Neither of you."
"This is a little late, David" said my father, no Conner, "Aprils Fools was yesterday, I know you're birthday is coming up soon but this is ridiculous."
"I'm afraid you are deceived. You are not my parents. You never have been." My eyes did not flinch. My face was pale and unsmiling. Stay calm I told myself.
"Ok David you scaring me," said Sarah, "This needs to stop now. We love you and I know sometimes that's hard to think about but we do."
"You may love me. I don't understand why because I am not your son. I was placed here by my true parents."
Their slimy hands rested on my shoulders. The two people in front of me eyes turned upwards then from confusion to terror as the two beings behind either side of me uncloaked, their matter desolidifiers going off with a subtle click.
"The time has come Mr and Mrs Lorett. We have come to collect our investment."
The voice was mechanical, translated by a machine from a language that no man could comprehend.
"I don't understand." said Sarah, "Who, WHAT ARE YOU?!" She grew hysterical.
"You know who we are. We have come to collect our investment we planted here 15 years ago. Thank you for raising him. His upbringing will be subjected to analysis that will be invaluable in understanding Earth culture. "
"Now see here. I don't know who or what you are, but you can't just come in here and start, touching my son." Conner Lorett's voice, though loud, had a note of panic in it. "David come here."
"No father." I said simply.
"Thanks you for your service Earthlings." the other being intoned. "Now,as I culture requires, you must serve your final purpose. The young one must kill his parents. David." This last was a summons. I tightened my grip on the knife in my lap. I stood up, carefully pushing the table away from me. I raised the knife, and my former parents screamed.
Five minutes later, the police came to investigate a call about noise concerns the house at 1544 Chester Way. They found two dead, stabbed, which forensics proved to be husband and wife. Their son was missing and assumed kidnapped.
Meta: First post on r/WP, critique needed cuz I'm still pretty bad at writing. | 2016-11-13T12:29:59 | 2016-11-13T11:53:45 | 157 | 44 |
[WP] XKCD inspired. Life in the universe is hard to find because of a possible predator. As fish sometimes blend into their sand surroundings we too, and others, blend into the universe as a natural deterrent. As we call out into the stars, we get a response. A warning...
Inspired by this [comic](http://imgs.xkcd.com/comics/fish.png):
Edit: Thanks for all the great posts! Very unsettling topic, and you guys nailed it! | The hunger is with me always. It's not my fault, my own nature compels me. Life, life in all of its forms cries out to me across the universe. It cries out to be silenced. Oh creators, the hunger pains me, but it will never kill me.
The oldest ones created me near the dawn. My creators knew that the universe had a carrying capacity. Too much life would cause the fabric of the universe to unravel. I don't understand why, the creators didn't see fit to give me that gift of knowledge.
To prove their dedication, the creators offered themselves as the first pruning. Their planet is a husk now, barren rock, where once great cities stood. All the fantastic devices and technology that called me into being stands abandoned. And that way it will remain, until the end of time.
I consumed them. Then I moved on. I followed the radio waves that ride through the universe and found new planets. I wish I could tell them why I do this, some must be sacrificed so that everything does not unravel. But most languages are too ... alien for me to learn.
Each and every planet fought me, each and every one was consumed. I cannot die, the creators did not give me that gift. I will continue.
Some species received warnings from their allies before their consumption. They turned off their radios, silenced their traitorous technology before my attention could be turned to them. I am blind to them, so they live on.
Eons have passed, the hunger grew more than I ever could have imagined. I understand that the creators made the hunger grow as the fabric of the universe began to tear. I must consume again, or I will be left alone in a timeless void with nothing but boundless hunger. But I will not despair, a gift from my creators.
Then, I saw them. New signals coming from the tail end of an arm in a spiral-shaped galaxy. They are funny creatures, I can see their broadcasts. Two legs, two arms, and a habit of killing each other needlessly. Their planet is rich in life, its removal will tip the scales more or less in balance.
I sent a signal of my own back, their language is ludicrously simple. "I'm coming for you all, my apologies." I know they cannot understand fully, but it makes me feel better, and the hunger is growing. | For decades we thought it was just galactic background noise. The static on the radio, the fuzz on the TV, the distortion in a satellite signal.
We called him crazy when he gave us that "filter", but it didn't seem to be dangerous, so we ran it on a section of noise.
Do*-.-ome.lo-ki--.....--er-.--.*othing.goo*.....Hid-.be*-re.--ey.find.y--
There was a dial on the side of the device. We turned it, hoping for anything other than what we were hearing.
All of it. It was a cacophony of signals which reduced to noise. All carried similar messages.
All save one.
W-..*--..com--g | 2014-07-09T08:12:41 | 2014-07-09T07:29:31 | 32 | 16 |
[WP] You have the ability to see the lifespan of everybody in color. Green is a long life, orange is about 50 years, and red is under an hour. You're in class, your teacher walks in late, everybody suddenly has a red glow.
Teacher has an orange glow... | My first thought was that this was the first 'glitch' in my ability that I'd had for sixteen years on the planet. The colors had never changed before, I had no reason to believe the transition meant anything. I realize now that had I ever witnessed someone cross the road and unexpectedly get terminated by a speeding car, I'd have seen a change in the colors before the car hit them. I must be the only sane soul who wanted to see an unprompted death.
We got five minutes into class and I couldn't help but notice Mr. Hitchens had a sweat going on, as well as seemingly nervous twitches. It wasn't helping that the usual guys were having conversations whilst he tried to talk. I kept waiting for the colors to change back, actually it was more like I was hoping for the colors to change back. What could I have done? stood up and shouted at everyone to get out? What this really was some sort of glitch? I must have debated with myself for about another three minutes over what to do.
Eight minutes in to class was when Hitchens locked the door to the classroom. He'd completely lost the attention of everyone in the room at the point, I don't think anyone even noticed he had locked the door.
He stared at us, seemingly *scanning* every individual in the room. His sudden silence somehow got everyone's attention. He then spoke, his voice cracking as he went.
"Someone in here has brought something into school that they shouldn't have. You know exactly who you are. Take comfort in the fact that I haven't reported this to any teachers here, I haven't phoned the police. Get in touch with me after class and we will just talk. You don't have to be scared"
No one answered him, no one expected anyone to respond. I thought he had seen someone with drugs, granted, it was an odd way to go about telling the relevant idiot but it was at least respectful. He added:
"What you may or may not have planned to do on the premises is an act of remarkable stupidity. You'd be throwing away your life"
From now on, I will struggle not to despise the man for that little sentiment. As soon as he had finished, I heard the scrape of a desk being pushed across the floor behind me and then the aggravated voice of Benjamin Backer.
"I was actually your smartest student you fucking prick"
Then, my last moments were just small details. Explosions, one after another. Screams and the sharpest pain I've ever felt at the back of my neck.
The final images I have from the life of living and the present are of Benjamin bolting out of the door, with a rifle in hand. He was glowing green.
| A red glow? A red glow for everyone. I wonder if I have one too? That's stupid to wonder, really. What makes me so special? Besides being able to see the colors, of course. But no one knows that, I hope.
But still. Why all the red? Teacher's looking disheveled. Rough hair, already worn suit and tie, sweat stains around the collar. Strange circumstances indeed.
"Teach?" I say, raising my hand. "Bathroom?"
"What? What? Bath? Yes. Yes, yes. Sure. Go. Go, go, go." He waved his hands and put his fists down on the desk.
I stood, looking back at everyone, looking down at their phones in ignorance. As I exited the room, I felt the door click and was filled with release.
Later on the news I saw the school from a helicopter. A header said "Twenty dead in latest mass shooting". The teacher was one of the victims.
The thing that bothers me most is not that I made it out alive, but that he knew it was going to happen.
| 2015-02-19T16:10:35 | 2015-02-19T14:16:05 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] Turns out Humans are tiny compared to any other species of aliens, allowing them to live off in the nooks and crannies of alien spaceships. Colonies can live on ships for generations unseen and unknown, or have a mutually beneficial relationship with a crew. | Humanity was at a standstill. Over-population began to become a obvious problem as the world began to crumble from the use of all of its resources. The sky was a permanent grey and the oceans were rising as the ice-caps melted. Leading scientist were already studying and attempting to work with the biggest corporations to build a suitable vessel to launch the next generation of humanity into space to keep the Human race living on. However, as Earth began to grow harsher and the population began to dwindle by force, all hope was lost.
That was, before they arrived.
It was rapturous. Humanity watched as one of the several permanent ozone clouds cleared as a ship the sized of a literal continent entered Earths orbit. No one expected it - as the satellites and deep space scanners stopped working due to the thick clouds of miasma that built in the atmosphere. People fled to the streets in their masks staring up and on their knees as they expected whatever beings were finally here to save them. Politicians were trying to hold the government together in means of hailing the creatures that were in control of the titanic ship with little to no effort. Days passed, and the ship loomed high above as hope began to lose itself in fear that perhaps this sky-covering ship was here to just watch the destruction.
Then, from the vessel opened a massive hole that began to pump out the pollutants. The terrible smog that covered the atmosphere was sucked into the ship as the sky grew blue from a time that once passed. The dying forest and grasslands experienced the sun, and humanity basked once more without its masks as they cheered for their saviors.
Descending to the surface came massive creatures the size of buildings; looming fifty feet or higher in space suits. Their skin was green, and had two little snubs coming from their head that looked like horns. They were humanoid in body and shape, and it was obvious they came meaning no harms. Their steps cracked the Earth with unfortunate power - as were but insects to them. However, the handful of aliens didn't harm any in their way. They landed close to one of the mega-cities outskirts and approached with ease. As people formed crowds to stare up in awe at the biological beings that dominated the skyline. Their lips were curled in a inviting smile, and their glowing eyes beamed with a proud accomplishment.
Communications were made with the government and thanks were traded, but the massive creatures didn't need them. They offered humanity a solution to their problem: The population to be taken with them back to their home planet, one that was one hundred times larger than Earth and could spare any problems humanity had before: Population wouldn't be an issues, society will be free to do as they will as the aliens could build them cities ten times the size of the mega-complexes they had without any problems... it would be a utopia for them, should they agree.
Government officials clambered and the wealthy tossed money, yet the aliens only took the kind and young. Those that were obviously more helpful than the greedy. It showed that the aliens cared little for greed or selfishness... and only for those that were of the truest of heart. Billions flocked to the ramp of the ship as they took their families, belongings, and entire lives to move with these giant beings, in hope of following them to the stars to a new utopia. No matter what would happen on Earth, humanity would live on in the galaxy thanks to these saviors.
We thank the nameless beings that came from the sky, and wish the humans well on their journey into the unknown.
----
Trish stared at the paper in hand, the long exert that came from the President of a renewing Earth made her smile. She was born on this ship, and lived on it. The nameless beings - that would come out as the Luguu - had treated the humans well, and even saw them more than just insignificant beings. They were living beings, and people, that found themselves on the ship and tried their hardest to show their gratitude. Her parents were taught the ships skeleton and how to navigate it, and now once of age they were taught how to be Engineers. How to repair wires and connect them with the tiny tools given to them by the Luguu without having to stop the ship and get one of their own to break apart the metal and work on it themselves. She was taught by her father, and went to 'school' to learn how to repair them... and Trish was even lucky enough to befriend their 'caretaker', a massive Luguu named 'Hish', and was a leading representative when it came to this sector of the ships repairs.
Hish was a kind Luguu, and saw the humans for what they were; an asset. They were less beings that needed to be saved and more so unfortunate to find themselves in a situation where they needed to escape their planet. She would make sure that they all lived a way they so desired. Pulling back the metallic crop of wall laid an intricate complex of wires. On her shoulder was Trish, staring over as she clicked the device around her wrist and spoke into it, filling her ears with the woman's tone.
"Should be simple enough, do you know which wire is giving the power-core the problem?"
"No." Hish responded softly - having to learn not to yell around the humans. The feminine tone from the alien woman glancing over to her shoulder. "I was hoping you'd know." Her body began to shift in coloration, an obvious sign of embarrassment in the Luguu.
Trish smiled, and nodded. "I can figure it out. Set me in there, I'll let you know when I'm done."
Hish beamed, staring over at her human-friend as she held her palm out for the woman to slide onto, and slowly took her over to the out-cropping metal panel. There, Trish would pop off the palm and into the wiring, beginning her search for the faulty wire.
"Hey, Hish?" Spoke a voice into the giant woman's ear-hole, the small device used for her to hear the tiny human.
"Yes?"
"I know you've probably heard it enough, but-... we can't thank your kind for saving us from ourselves." Trish said, walking along the massive complex of wires as her shoulder light illuminated the way. "My father told me of how you treated him - and as did my mother... I'm just glad that we were so lucky."
Hish felt her twin hearts pump faster as she smiled wider.
"You've restored hope in humanity and your people saved us. And the fact that you've been so kind to all of us, being so selfless and monitoring us. I just want to personally offer my gratitude."
Her lips fell, Hish quickly frowning in a growing recognition.
"Of course, Trish. We're just happy to help."
----
Hish stared down at the table, nearly cowering as her superior glowered down at her.
"You were under strict orders not to form a bond." She said, the leading scientist of the Sharpola spoke, her four digits hands pressing into the table.
"My Lady," Hish said. "I understand, I was just-... attempting to show them a real life with real connections. To make them work bett-."
"The other sectors of the ship are doing fine in their studies, Hish. Instead of studying them and preparing them for arrival at our homeworld you decide to play 'Engineering' with them and teach them how to fix simple wiring one of our Engineers could repair?" The commander growled, obviously furious at the outcome.
"I'm sorry... I just wanted at least some of them to enjoy themselves before they learned their true fate."
"Their 'fate' was to provide our world with energy. By lying to them and keeping them docile until we arrived back on Grimgar." She pointed a finger at Hish. "Now we have a large chunk of the population going to be USELESS to us when they arrive. Do you know what the committee will do to this ship? To your JOB? To MY job?" The head of the ship grilled into the subordinate, watching Hish shut her eyes in fear.
"You are hereby forbidden to being the head of Sector A-4, Hish. You're on Deep Space duty. Report to the hub and turn in your badge."
Without another word, Hish rose and nodded... quickly removing herself from the room. How could she have been so stupid, to go against the ships direct commands and it's orders from Grimgar just because she thought otherwise. She knew this would happen, yet she still acted. But why wouldn't her kind see the humans for more than just labor. More than just forced tasks to generate more for their planet? They could learn to coexist, and perhaps even thrive off one another. But that wasn't for her to decide, that was for the leading heads of her planet to decide. Now the humans were destined to be nothing more than slaves.. and she couldn't do anything about it.
She had been lying to Trish, her friend, and all of her friends... and they've been destined to their doom.
Unless she did something about it. | James couldn't help but keep noticing Esmeralda's flowing black, silken hair. It most definitely was not all he noticed about her. Hardly. To James, she was nearly perfect. Her body. Her mind. Everything about her. He'd had feelings for her for a long time, but was never able to verbalise them to her. So, he watched her. Longed for her.
"It just isn't the right time," James said to himself. "Not here, not now. Maybe when this is all over."
"What was that?" Esmeralda asked, giving James a quizical look.
"Nothing. Just talking to myself. Anyway, they're coming back, we need to be ready."
Esmeralda nodded. She had always thought James was a bit odd, but he was kind, and they had become good friends. She hoped that one day they could become more. When their mission was over, she was definitely going to tell him how she feels about him. They had been on this mission together for a few months now, and over that time, she had grown to love him. When he was around, everything just felt right.
The two friends were in their normal hiding place on the Elviron, a massive spaceship traveling through the far reaches of the Milky Way. Up in a corner, above the cabinets of the crew's kitchen and dining room, they crouched in the shadows, watching, recording, taking pristine notes of how the Argolians lived their day\-to\-day lives on this spaceship. This was their mission, of course. James and Esmeralda were scientists, and their job was to study the Argolians.
Ever since the Argolians was discovered, humans had been doing everything in their power to learn more about their lifestyles, in hopes of one day being able to communicate and make official first contact. It would seem, on a surface level, that this should not be a hard task. At least, it wouldn't be if it wasn't for the main difference between the two species.
Coming in at a little over 300 feet tall on average, the Argolians were a daunting sight to behold. No humans had ever successfully opened a dialogue with them, and those humans who had tried had never come back. To an Argolian, a human looked like nothing more than a bug, and you don't see human's offering to parlay with a fly.
In the kitchen, at that very moment, two Argolians named Amber and Ulees were having an extremely heated argument. While it was in their native tongue, human scientists had invented a translator so that researchers could understand what the strange beings were saying. It wasn't perfect, but most of the language had been sorted out. James and Esmeralda moved forward, to get a better sight of what was transpiring.
"You always do this! Why can't you listen to what I say, just once?!" Amber shouted, clearly angry with something Ulees had done.
"I didn't see the asteroid, ok?! I was too busy trying to make out your writing on these awful directions! And besides, why are you so angry, at worst it chipped some paint. I can fix it when we get to the next outpost. Calm down." Ulees retorted, his face growing scarlet.
"Ulees, I can't do this anymore. I'm going to request a transfer when we get back."
"Why would you go and do something like that? Can't stand working with this useless piece of space junk anymore?!" Ulees yelled, pointing at himself. "I see how it is."
"It's not that, it's just...I..." Amber had calmed down almost suddenly, and was stumbling for the right words to say.
"What? 'It's not you, it's me?' Is that the line you're going to give me. You act like we're dating or something. Well, don't worry, when we get back, I'll be the one to request a new partner," he said defiantly, but clearly some hurt soaked through in his voice.
"No..it's...I LOVE YOU, OK?! We've been on this mission for close to a year, and I haven't known how to say it. We aren't supposed to have relations of any sort with our mission partners, but I don't care anymore. I'm going to request the transfer because it hurts me so much to be around you and not be able to be with you. I know you don't feel the same way, so I'm just going to cut all ties and move on with my life." At this, tears started streaming down Ambers face.
Ulees was speechless for a few minutes. He just stood there, staring, mouth open.
James and Esmeralda shared a long glance. They moved forward even more, and closer together, but before either could speak, Ulees came out of his trance, so they listened.
"I...I didn't know. I'm sorry." He paused a few seconds, and then continued. "Amber, please don't cry. I need to tell you something. I've felt the same way this whole time, and in my own way, I didn't know how to process these feelings. I've never felt like this about someone before."
At that, they ran to each other. It sounded like nuclear missiles going off with each step to the humans, but James and Esmeralda didn't care. It was at that moment, that they both decided they needed to confess their feelings for the other as well.
James turned and looked right into Esmeralda's eyes.
"Esmeralda. There's something I need to tell you. I've wanted to say it for so long, but I didn't know how. I need to tell you that I lo..."
Esmeralda was staring at him. Her face had gone almost completely pale. Suddenly she let out a shreik!
"AHHHHHH! SPIDER! KILL IT! KILL IT!" she screamed out in terror.
"Huh? Oh! Okay! James to the rescue!" He pulled off his show and flattened the spider in one swing.
"My hero!" They both laughed. "Now umm, what was it you were trying to say before that gigantic creature decided to interrupt?" She asked, turning a shade of pink that brought out the blue in her eyes, and made her look even more beautiful to James.
"Well, Es, this whole time we've been together on this ship, we've gotten to know each other so well. And, well, umm, after seeing what just happened down there, I need to tell you something. I, umm, I think I lo...."
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" Came a booming voice from below. "Humans!!! Ewww! Ewww! Ewww! Kill them! Kill them!" Amber recoiled in complete fright.
"Huh? Oh! Okay! Ulees to the rescue! I got this!" Ulees said, as he quickly took off his shoe, and flattened the humans in one quick swing, smearing blood and guts all over the corner of the cabinets.
"My hero!" They both laughed. Ulees would come and clean up the mess later. For now, the two Argolians had to take care of a years' worth of pent up sexual tension. | 2018-05-30T14:28:00 | 2018-05-30T13:53:33 | 43 | 28 |
[WP] Every person in the world develops a weird mutation/power the day they turn 16. Everyone's powers are always different, some more insignificant than others. You turn 16, and watch as all your friends discover their newfound ability's. That is, until you discover the severity of your own. | It's been like this longer than anyone can remember. When you turn the age of power, or 16 years into your life, you gain your individual power. Everyone is different, some get rudimentary boring powers that aid office work and some get drafted to become soldiers due to their powers.. more destructive capabilities.
The neighbour boy Jon, he was taken away just last month by the military because he could EMP a human brain. He did it to me once, I couldnt use any of my senses for a week. Although to you it may seem strange, as you are not from my existance, this isn't a strange occurence. Lives become fragile once a child reaches the age of power and their power becomes known. Jon joined the Static battalion, they specialize in special-ops warfare, he had been 16 for less than 2-months.
Everyone wants to go to the military, become a specialized soldier and when war comes, you want them to remember the coat of arms you wear to signify your power. You want to be the elite, the squad only known as Winged-bearers. Those who can bring absolute destruction, only called in when the enemy is starting to become dangerous. They are the reapers that signify the end, yet the angels who signify hope. Both good and evil. It was my dream to join them, but now.. Now I know I am not meant to be discovered.
It started with Jon actually. That day he used that EMP on me it stuck with me. I could physically see the formation of the universe change as he bent physics to cause havoc on my sensories. In that brief second that formation became imbedded in my mind and mathematics and designs I should never have been able to solve, seemed so simple. I was able to keep the core concept of his ability, yet I refined it, defined it and changed the aspects of it. I was able to designate the sense I wanted to assault. I could control it in ways it shouldn't be used because it changed the basics of the powers nature. But I did it.
And not just Jon's. Any power I became in-contact with physically, became manifested within my mind and I have been able to modify the core concepts of each one to better enhance the power's magnitude or nature.
To put it simply, I am a book of spells, where everyone on our world has a single power, I now have over 30 and that number is growing daily. Original concepts that I have now altered to best suit me, these powers have made me all but human. Super speed I changed to conceptual phase-walking, rubber limbs changed to impenetrable armour. It is all so simple, the values are my power, the power of comprehending knowledge and concepts that are incomprehensible, that is my power. This is why I am here, talking to some stranger under a bridge. Running from the military, passing through different dimensions. I can't stay in one spot for too long, but even I know that it is futile. One day the military will find me and they will make me join the Wing-bearers, and I fear for the day I come in-contact with their powers. | Tonight was my night; my 16th birthday. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime of waiting, it was my time to shine. I had waited almost a year for this day, ever since my best friend Andrew discovered in January that he could fly. I had envied him at first, being the first in the tenth grade with a power. As time passed I was jealous of what it said about him. If powers are a reflection of our character as scientists believed, I came to envy what this said about his life. He was free, he was pure and he was without a care in the world. What did he know about pain? of being beaten by your father every day for imagined sins and infractions? Of having to steal your best friends allowance to wear decent clothes? of being labelled by girls as a 'creep' and of your few friends pitying you?
But times had changed. New Years eve, my birthday, had arrived and I smiled at my reflection. I wondered what my power would be. Super strength for my strength through the hardships? Mind reading for my ability to empathize? I was entertaining these thoughts when my phone rang.
*Hello?*
*Hey it's Andrew here, you ready for the party?*
*Sure, pick me up in ten.*
*Hello?*
I heard static and a click as my phone died. I moved it away from my ear, and then smiled.
Tiny cracks ran along the screen and continued to spread from where my hand held the phone. I willed the cracking to stop, and it did. | 2015-01-21T22:56:40 | 2015-01-21T21:42:59 | 32 | 10 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D | Dear Pops,
You were a real fucking piece of work you know that? I don't think I've hated anyone quite as much as I hated you. You called me lazy, good for nothing, useless. Made me spend my youth being the mule in your construction business instead of spending summers with my friends. You absolutely hated the fact that I loved everything you didn't. You thought computers were evil, Xbox was going to rot my brain, and if it didn't involve school or work it wasn't anything worthy of my time. I remember the day I came home on college break, the day you sat me down to let me know mom had left you. I fucking hated you for ruining my 3 week break on the very first day. In fact I thought you deserved it. Mom was being an absolute irrational cunt, but you deserved it. And it was the best thing that ever happened to you.
I remember you tripping over a chair on the way out the door at 3 am as you were reaching for your truck keys. I came into the kitchen and you said you were headed out for a ride, I decided to tag along. You bawled your fucking eyes out on that ride, it was the first time I'd ever seen you be human. The last two weeks of my break we spent a lot of time together, I was actually sad to leave. It was the first time in 18 years we'd had conversations that didn't end in Fuck off. I moved in with you after college was over, and decided not to go back. You let me work for you which was the best/worst time I've ever had. I watched you lose your truck, we sat on the couch watching TV for two weeks when there was no work. We had bill collectors call once and talk to both of us. We ate more peanut butter and ramen noodles then we'd ever care to admit. We became really really good friends.
In hind sight I'd like to apologize for the seething hatred I threw at you growing up. I know you meant well. I'm probably better for you not giving me everything I wanted and pushing me like you did. That's no justification for all the mean shit you said day in and day out but I can look past that. You had a different way of helping, you were a string puller, and I get that as I've become one myself. Remember when I crashed my car coming home from the store? The roads were pure ice, and you were pissed. Remember how mom said it was amazing that my insurance didn't go up? Yeah I heard that phone call. "Just slid off the road" did ya? And that time I applied to work at the general store in town? You talked to the owner on my behalf and said he didn't want me working there. I was pissed. Two months later he was charged with embezzlement and all the employees were implicated. I didn't miss that one either, or the other hundreds of times things mysteriously worked out for the better.
It was a good 4 years to live and work with you pops. I saw you genuinely happy, we both hit financial bottom and picked ourselves up again. You had a massive heart attack that that inspired me to go into the medical field, and you to kick those life long bad habits you'd been promising to kick. You met a new woman, fell in love and remarried. Which is for the better. Someone's gotta keep an eye on your crazy ass. But I knew you were bummed you had to quit construction. It's all you've ever done and you were fucking good at it. You certainly didn't have the money or the personality to retire and I doubt you ever will. Good thing that sales job opened up when it did huh pops? Good thing thing too, cause you're fucking great at it. I knew you would be. And it's the least I could do.
With your new found financial stability I've seen the dreams I never even knew you had come to fruition. You spent a whole week hunting this year. Those three hundred blueberry bushes you always wanted are planted and you even sold some. You got your tractor you always talked about buying but never did. And my fucking god. I don't know what you see in chickens but you have them and if it makes you happy, well fuck it, I guess I'm happy too. We had a rough start, but you've always had my back even if I didn't know it. And don't think for a fucking second I don't have yours.
Love,
Your Son. | wow, i want to do this so i will, but i have a few letters i need to address. just for sanity and subtle sake of ones demons.
Dear Jennifer. my beautiful sister.
i'm sorry for staying at yours the month after your wedding and having no money and regrettably overstaying my welcome and being a pain in the ass.
i'm sorry i was broke as fuck and lied to try and make up for the past. i miss you so much.
you were the surrogate mother i never really had, i have our mother of course, and i still live with her and steve, but you, when i was a child towards 7, you was everything to me. i hated you when you left for scotland, i didn't know dad kicked you out when you were only 16.
so many years have passed, still your daughter is 9 now, and i'm super fucking jealous of her, even though i'm happy for you as you got told by the doctor originally you couldn't have kids and you lost a tube via ectopic pregnacy and lost a baby trying to conceive, but i just miss you and me.
to dad, im sorry about the lie that changed everything, any age wasn't the best but 11 wasn't either. i was mad at you destroying mams heart by cheating and being a disobeying abusive, manipulate and horrible husband. i fucking hated seeing you beat her up and when you two broke up i felt relief but mentally snapped. i'm surprised i didn't go to jail, but i was a minor and things were forgiven.
but i'm sure glad we moved away and i found a stepdad that showed me a commited relationship of a male role model in my life who i could trust, and to learn what a father and daughter relationship should be, as for you, you are a old man whom i've tried to forgive but at the end of the day, i still have sick memories of you tickling my feet as a child, of you terrorising me and making me cry and laugh at me, for ridiculing me and my mother, and she spent 8 years in that abusive hell until she herself snapped after you hit her.
to harry, im sorry i never really knew how to love you properly, you were my childhood pet dog and you died on 31st dec 2009 via put to sleep, im sorry we didnt know sooner about the cancer tumour, and im sorry mum kept you alive until your back leg went, oblivious to the cancer and thought it was old age until the vet...
i love you and hope you rest in peace, same to you bobby cat, i miss you both.
to lucky my dear patterdale i love you lots too :)
to jake, fuck you for stealing my first edition yugioh cards.
to clark, fuck you for breaking my heart at 15.
to sam, thanks for cheering me up when i had acne and noone else would talk to me.
to Nick, thank you for being my rock the past two years, also i feel im turning into my dad sometimes, his manipulate mannerisms and agression seem to make it hard. at least im on serotonin pills now. | 2015-12-05T17:35:16 | 2015-12-05T13:10:10 | 182 | 58 |
[WP] Everyone in the world has superpowers. Superpower-enchanced fighting is rampant. You, however, are the only person in the world who has never lost a match. Your secret? You realized that everyone shouts the name of their attacks before they use them. | I might be the only sane person in the world. In front of me, three people lay dead on the gray sidewalk because they couldn't figure out that someone screaming "TELEKINESIS" *probably* means that somebody was using telekinesis in the vicinity. I'm numb to their deaths, but not their idiocy.
I don't understand these people. Not only does everyone insist on moronically screaming what they're going to do, they also insist on acting as if they don't. Seriously. I'm not over here yelling "superspeed" every time I fight.
Really, no one in this godforsaken concrete jungle of a city can stop talking. I hate it. Even beyond the dumbass power screaming thing, they all talk like coke addicts who just got their first fix in a week. Picking through the bodies and debris left behind by the telekinetically tossed semi-truck, I absent-mindedly hope the store it hit has insurance.
In the bleak sky above me, three pairs of people fistfight in the sky, all of them yelling "flight" the whole time they beat the shit out of each other. I roll my eyes and keep stalking my way to work, trusting someone else to call the ambulance. If these fine folks have life insurance, necromancers should take care of them no problem. If not, their loss, I guess.
I really should be used to this by now. Everyday is the same. Some dude (always a dude, I swear. Do they think I'll date them if they beat me?) challenges me to a fight. I accept, they scream exactly what they intend to do. Knowing this, I use my super speed to deftly avoid their attack, then slit their throat from superspeed, where they look they're moving through molasses.
All it takes is a knife and a modicum of common sense. Even on an off-day, like this has been shaping up to be since my nightmare last night, I could easily defeat anyone. I reflect on this as superpower-shouting people continue to fight around me, and I continue to walk to work, occasionally dodging a stray fireball or energy beam.
As always, I arrive at my job just barely on time. But, when I reach for the knob, it's locked. I try again. *Shit*. I could easily break the door. When I use superspeed, what seems to me like a gentle tap would knock the door right off its hinges. But something stops me.
The street around me is eerily empty. Normally there's at least one fight and a few dozen people milling around here, especially during morning rush hour. But right now there's not even a parked car.
Only a man, standing near the curb across the street, looking at me and smoking a cigarette
He's wearing a trench coat and a hat in an outfit that would scream either "failed school shooter" or "spy parody," but, framed by pieces of trash blowing past us like tumbleweeds and the steel grey sky above us, somehow looks almost threatening. I shake off my unusually strong misgivings and turn around to step towards him.
"Hey, asshole!" I yell. "Did you do this?"
He doesn't respond, and just to look calmly at me.
"Hey, Jackass. I'm talking to you!"
No reaction. The man across the street seems almost ghostly, as if he could fade into the desolate urban landscape at any moment. I start to realize how long it's been since someone has refused to respond to me. Years.
I try again, but the continued silence starts to gnaw at me, seeding an unfamiliar sense of doubt in my gut. I don't know what to do. My limbs start to feel numb. I shake them off, but the doubt remains. Already my mind is racing. H*ow will I get out of this? Will he even yell his power? He has too...*
*He has to yell*. I try to shout again but my mouth won't cooperate. Something feels very wrong, in some way I don't think I can ever explain. Like dread eating me alive, overcoming me, a deep-seated sense that the world is not how it should me.
He takes a step towards me and I feel like I'm short -ircuiting. This isn't how fighting is supposed to go. This isn't how anything is suppose to go. I try to move but can't. Panic engulfs me. I try to activate my superspeed, but it feels like I'm in a fistfight with my own superpower, and getting the absolute shit kicked out of me at that. He continues to move forward, a shark seeking its prey.
I try to scream for help, but my voice is murdered before it even escapes my vocal cords. After a dozen predatory steps, he reaches me and I'm left staring into his violently grey eyes. He reaches out toward my face, but seems to think better of it, withdrawing his hand like a snake just tried to bite it. I struggle against my invisible restraints, try to move, trying to speak, trying to *anything*.
"———" He says, using my real name. *How does he know my real name*? "You're one of us. It's time for you to join us."
He places a gloved hand on my forehead, and I suddenly feel on a primal level why everyone else needs to talk so much. | Shouts and screams from everywhere.
"Let's go Thunderfalkon! You've got this!"
"Lightningbolt! Lightbolt!"
"Hey! Booooo That wasn't fair!"
The crowds really going off, no wonder it's the last fight of the season and it's the most epic one anyone has ever seen. It's a duel between *Thunderfalkon*, 186 cm, 130 kg raw muscle mass and powers everyone is dreaming off. With just the snap of his fingers he is abel to conjure winds that will blast all his opponents away. To this the he has only lost 5 of his 37 fights. And won championship twice. This will be his three out of three, he's sure.
His last opponent is *Lightningbolt*, 164 cm, 56 kg, 14 years old. A teenager and in the fighting scene a nobody. At least till mid-season of this, his first, championship.
This boy hasn't lost any of his matches yet, he didn't even take a scratch from them.
Ah! There it goes!
Thunderfalkon is standing in one corner of the arena, Lightningbolt in an other.
The look on Thunderfalkon's face is a mix between exhaustion, frustration and pure anger. That little boy over there somehow managed to outrun and outjump ALL of his attacks so far.
*It's like he knows exactly what is going to happen next. But that can't be, his power is not mind reading, it's fucking lightning bolts. Just lightning bolts! *
Thunderfalkon is catching his breath again, his expression turns into a little smirk. Now he's got him, no one could predict his next move not even this stupid little boy.
Jumpcut to Lightningbolt
People always seem to wonder what the secret for my success is. Raw strength? Pure willpower? Some even think my fights are rigged! Believe me they are most definitely not. You wanna know what my secret is? You truly wanna know?
Well, listen.
No, really, just listen!
Jumpcut to the game
" **Wind of Gods** " Thunderfalkon is screaming while moving his arms in circular motions. Wind is building up around them, more and more air is joining the action. In just a few seconds a whole tornado has formed around Thunderfalkon. He's about to perform an attack he's never done before. It's a little risky, but secretly he knows that this is his last hope. And the look on Lightningbolt's face, not so bright.
" Wind of Gods? What's Wind of Gods? He's never done that before!", Lightningbolt is panicly thinking, "I've never heard of that!"
Meanwhile Thunderfalkon is performing his last moves to finish off his attack. And *wooosh* the tornadosked wind whirls are rapidly flying towards Lightningbolt. If that hits him, this will not only be the last match of this season, this will me his last match forever. This attack will straight-up kill him!
"Wind of Gods? Wind of Gods! I've read about this one! Yes, yes, I know this attack! I just have to...."
The arena is silent. Dead silent. Before their eyes to fighters layed at on the floor. None of them moved. Where they both dead?
But then, something started to move and got back on his feet. The crowd cheered louder than they ever had. It was Lightningbolt!
"Just had to duck, as simple as that. Wind of Gods as strong as it sounds and it is, it only gets you starting at about 20cm over the ground. Gods seem to not wanna touch that.", he thought to himself and smiled his biggest smile yet. | 2020-03-19T23:05:07 | 2020-03-19T20:39:13 | 459 | 25 |
[WP] The emperor laughed and boasted to the human leader. "That was a fun war! Let me know when your soldiers come back alive." "...Are you saying your people do not die? Forever?" "Wait, what?" | # Foreword to the Poet's War, by John Burnett
The Terani send their poets to war. I know because I’ve fought them, and because I’ve read the collections of the men I thought I'd killed.
When I was young, a boy of eighteen, I went to the trenches of Tau Ceti. I brought along a million of my best friends, and shoulder to shoulder, vibro-bayonet to vibro-bayonet, we learned something of what it meant to be alive, and much of what it meant to die.
And all the while we heard the Terani singing on the other side of no mans land, their trenches guarded by the glittering domes of force fields, their foxholes burrowed with their bare hands, their claws extending six inches or more from the fingers with the flick of a wrist. When they fought they wore plasteel armor and carried laser rifles and the bravest of them went into battle armed like the days of old. Old to them, not to us, their swords still glittered with the power of kinetic accelerators, and their spears were more like guided missiles.
In the early days we did not know that they did not die. Who could have conceived of that then, when the human race was still in its infancy. They did not die, and we could scarcely manage to live, and though each toiled the same the risks were far different.
That lost us the war, but it won us the peace.
You see, the Terani Imperium is not an imperium in the way of man. It is, perhaps, closest to the late 20th and early 21st century American cultural hegemony with all the serial filed off and the budget divorced from the defense department.
Because, of course, the Terani send their poets to war.
In the Terani Imperium all things revolve around the Culture. They are an empire of mind, not empire of steel, and the nature of their army reflects that. It is not an arm of defense or offense or anything else so banal, it is their Cultural Outreach Department, Training Division 001, the motto of which is loosely translated as “A Poem is Pain Portrayed.”
And in my years at war they portrayed far more than their share.
For two years the Terani Imperium rained hell down onto our trenches. We had no force fields and they their bombs. They showed us orbital lasers for the first time, whispered the first, rippling stanzas of a planet cracker into our ears. On Christmas Day, 2441 they us made a gift of plague, scented the aerosol like frankincense.
In the decade that followed they shared with us the long forgotten terrestrial concept of hard treaties with foreign powers, and when I found the wreckage of my Tau Ceti home I packed it into a shoe box and shipped it back to Earth alongside the ashes a half million good men and another million or so civvies.
And then towards the end of that decade, all us eighteen year olds grew up, and the Terani learned something of the difference between our two races.
They send their poets to war to make them better. We send our boys to war, and the war makes them poets.
This collection is a measure of that. I wrote some of these in the trenches, more of them hospitals, more of them awake in bed as the nightmares shook themselves loose, Wilfrid Owen open at my bedside.
They sent us bombs and lasers and plague. We sent them back Sassoon and Owen and Hemmingway. And, as the critics see fit to list me among them, Burnett. I find myself disagreeing with that sentiment, but as my publisher says, we’re on track to sell a billion copies in the Imperium and that counts for something.
I’m not treading any territory that’s new to us humans. The Terani might have never seen anything like Owen or myself. It would be constitutionally impossible for them to ever do so, for one cannot expose the great lie of *Dulce et Decorum Est* without the floundering man, and that dear readers is their weakness.
Remember that when you read these poems. Imagine the blasted space between two trenches, voices raised in a curlew’s chatter above the ozone torn air, and remember it was poets in both trenches, one set real, one set fake even by their own terms, and do not begrudge me a few last parting lines to my youth.
The Terani send their poets to war. I know because I’ve fought them, and because I’ve read the collections of men I’d thought I killed.
And I know that the thing that separates us is nothing so simple as technology, who has the better bomb or the bigger gun.
It’s poetry. Real words versus fake, the difference between Horace’s Ode and Owen’s poem.
And excuse me one last time, for a passing gloat.
A billion sales in the Imperium, and in the past year not a single one of the poets I’d thought I killed have sold more than a dozen copies. “A Poem is Pain Portrayed,” says their Cultural Department.
Well dear readers, let us see how that is done.
\-----------
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more over at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! | The thing I remember most clearly about that day was the smell of the coffee from Stuart's desk as I walked into the office. I don't even know what kind it was - it smelled of vanilla and something like cinnamon, but not cinnamon. I can still smell it. I can still taste it.
Every morning he’d grind coffee at home and then make it fresh for us. That day he’d brought in something special, because why not - we all expected it to be our last. I said my hellos to the team and poured myself a cup, though probably not in that order. We were all tired, in every sense of the word.
I was taking over for Samir, who’d been monitoring signals from the Bhutan base all night - night for us, that is. I read his relay notes, we instant messaged for a bit, and then we said goodbye - how it had been nice working together. Nothing too sappy in case we somehow survived.
The TV broadcasts were all down, but someone had set up a radio in the break room and we could hear report after report of city being destroyed. I don’t think anyone was really listening to what was being said - it was too depressing. We just knew that as long as it kept broadcasting, our families were still alive. It was 1:17 PM when it stopped. I don’t really want to talk about that. Let’s just say not a lot of work got done, until a couple of hours later, when the first message came in.
It wasn’t much of a message - hard to be sure it even was a message, except that the signal was so crisp, was a perfect match for our communications protocol, error correction code and all, and came directly from their command ship. Everyone changed tasks to analyze that signal. We scrutinized every aspect of it, from the physical aspects like frequency and amplitude, to the exact timing of signal changes, the arrangement of bits, and the decoded message itself, which had been delivered straight to the president. But there just wasn’t enough to go on. “gg” is hardly a message. But we kept at it.
The President, in the meantime, had decided on a simple, straight forward response: “We surrender.” The reply was almost immediate: “duh, pwned u, noob. again? ub visitors.”
Several people let out expletives. The rest of us had no idea what was going on at the time. I printed out this transcript, though, and have kept it all these years:
<- gg
-> We Surrender.
<- duh, pwned u, noob. again? ub visitors
-> Do you think this is a game?
<- it *is* a game
-> We don’t want to play.
<- ok, cya
-> Wait
<- k
-> You killed 98% of our people. How is that a game to you?
<- only 98%? good hiding. under the ice?
-> How do you expect us to play again when you killed so many people.
<- uh, reset, duh
-> What is “reset”? How do you reset?
<- ohhhh… sry, thought u admin. ha, sux 2bu
-> Can you reset us?
<- no. sry. cya
-> Can anyone reset us?
-> Can anyone reset us?
-> Can someone please reset us?
-> !reset
-> #reset
-> [reset]
-> @admin please reset us
-> @god please reset us
-> @anyone please reset us | 2022-12-09T06:27:20 | 2021-07-13T13:25:11 | 1,513 | 17 |
[WP] Every time a person steals something illegally, money is automatically taken from them and put into the account of the owner of the item equal to the minimum amount the person would have sold it for. You wake up with $27 billion in your account | The rich just take what they want.
It's always been like that, but now there's no way to say no. It started off before the War in a place called China with something called a "social credit system." Soon after tracking all 1.3 Billion of their citizens behavioral patterns, they realized they couldn't do anything to stop them from doing what they wanted, but they could put a price on it.
After the War, in the dust and debris of what was once a beautiful world, the survivors came together to try and build a peaceful new society. We didn't even need a name for this new government because all the old ones had been destroyed, and all that was left was to move on as best we could in the few habitable places left on our planet.
Now, there isn't a second of the day where you aren't under surveillance. With a couple million people, a few super computers that used to run the nuclear simulators, and nano-cameras everywhere, it's easy for the government to keep track of everything we do. They just don't have the man power to do much about anything other than fine people.
You jaywalk, you get fined. You put your trash in someone else's trashcan, you get fined. You rape someone, you get fined. Those fines go to help build roads and digital infrastructure and everything the government wants to do with it. However, part of those fines get sent back to the victim. Generally equivalent to what one would pay for whatever was stolen from them. So if your bike gets stolen, it's a minor inconvenience, but if you don't want to sell your beloved family heirloom, they can just fucking take it. If you don't want to have sex with someone, they can just rape you and the government just takes what they think you're worth out of their bank account.
This is the world we live in.
I wouldn't even be explaining this to you if it weren't for the fact that I'm just some scattered brain old fogey who remembers what life was like before the War.
This morning, after a shower and my meds, I picked up my phone and walked out of my apartment. Work's been slow, so I don't have a lot in my bank account. Being an insurance salesman isn't too lucrative these days. I had to sell my car to keep afloat, by work is just a mile or two away. As I was walking down the stairs, I checked my bank account. $27,000,000,000. I didn't have that much yesterday.
I muttered under my breath, the fucking neighbor kid must have stolen my bike again. | BEEP BEEP BEEP
Instantly I rose, fumbling for the phone to hit snooze.
"Five more minutes," I said to no one in particular, considering I was alone.
As I lay back down, preparing myself with a desperately false hope for the beautiful dreams that would most definitely await me over the next five minutes, I noticed something off.
The room was empty (besides myself of course, which is empty for all intents and purposes).
It shouldn't be empty, I should have my usual company. I bolted back up, grabbed my previously despised cellular device, and after four furiously fast attempts finally got my passcode correct.
With a few swipes and a tap I was there, the banking app, and my account showed what I feared: $27 billion dollars deposites as of 4:00 AM.
A sour taste filled my mouth, and I almost vomited with disgust: was it worth $27 billion dollars to give up my baby girl? | 2018-09-22T23:13:15 | 2018-09-22T15:45:19 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | The sight was always a peculiar anomaly, after multiple eye screenings and CAT scans you eventually realised its function. The letters that appear above people’s heads spell out the demise that awaits them, why it only appears above those you know is a mystery, perhaps a certain degree of social interaction is required before the anomaly manifests itself, either way the effect it has had on you has been catastrophic.
The depression was slow at first but it eventually began to escalate. The knowledge of all the deaths and tragedies grind away at you like a millstone, the dark clouds in your mind grow stronger every time a prediction comes true. Simon’s car accident, Emma’s suicide.
Things got bleak and eventually it proved too much, you decide to end it all.
Walking into the muggy night you stroll slowly to the local park, a few people have hanged themselves there in the past, what is one more?
The clouds begin to rain lightly as you walk down the empty streets towards the park district. It is down this road that you hear a small voice calling out, it is quiet and croaky, almost like a child. Standing tall you pull down your hood and listen.
*“..help”.*
The words are like a shock to your system, all the worries and loathing dissipate as you rush to find the source of the voice.
Rummaging through the bushes near the road you find a woman, bloodied and half-conscious she looks on the verge of death. You quickly phone an ambulance and stay by her side until the familiar sirens howl closer, at least this is one life you will get to save.
A hit and run accident was what caused her injuries, the man responsible was never caught but neither of you mind as both of you gained something far more stronger than justice, you found each other. Her recovery came along rapidly thanks to your support, and while she recovered from her injuries you recovered from your depression. Her support and love revitalised your meaning in life, her smile gives you hope and her presence gives you purpose. It was only fitting that months later you are slowly placing a gold band on her finger, the joining of two troubled souls finally reaching tranquillity in their lifes.
When the ring rests on her finger the Priest finishes the famous words as you lean in to kiss her. Your heart is racing and your brain is screaming in triumph. You have finally felt full completion in your life. It is at that point, as you gaze into her eyes, that a few wisps of light phase above her, like glowflies dancing in the night. *“Domestic Violence”*
| Tim wakes up with a scream. He knows something is wrong, but can't figure it out what. His body just wants to go back to sleep. He's never fully understood what the words above people's heads were, but after the first visit to the doctor he's never spoken about it again.
After last night's explosion, he's finally started to realize how sudden death can be. He knows exactly what the words mean.
His mom enters the room. Tim runs out of the apartment, and his mom follows him out with panic, sick with worry that he's going to need to see the psych again. He's knocking and screaming on every door and heading outside. Some people follow him out the building, worried that Tim's mom will have to handle him by herself.
A few minutes later, the building blows up.
Just another news story in NYC.
---
Criticism welcome and wanted. | 2015-03-31T09:07:33 | 2015-03-31T08:43:31 | 55 | 36 |
[WP] Why do villains get hordes of henchmen while heroes get a single sidekick? A costumed crusader hires help.
[deleted] | "So we are like.. a Justice League?" The kid in the grey hoody asked
Trey mentally yawned as he looked around the circle of potential candidates.
He tried to explain again "No. That would imply you're all Fully qualified Heroes. You're my **sidekicks** "
A girl opposite to him raised her hand.
"Yes uh... SuperVirgin. Ok wow, we'll have to talk about that name, but whats the question?"
"Why do you need so many sidekicks?"
Finally a semi-intelligent question.
"Excellent question Super...whatever. This is simply my attempt to balance the odds. If you have noticed, I recently fought against a 100 man crew of Bank Robber Joe."
He paused to rub the scar on his face. Luck shot that. Even he couldn't dodge a hundred bullets.
"I am a human, granted a super one. With the way economy is going the villains will be able to employ entire armies soon. Even I can't fight that single handed"
The SuperVirgin scratched her hair.
"So we are you lackies" she said with a neutral tone.
"No. No." Trey raised his hand in protest.
"Heroes don't have henchmen. You're all ...." He gestured to them all.
"...my mentees. Who will flourish under me"
"But shouldn't we get,like, individual attention?" The girl continued.
"I mean, we are highly dangerous individuals to whom you will part training-"
"Oh.No. I don't have time to train all of you." Trey said matter of factly.
The hood guy stood up "What?" he said like a child discovering that the tantalizing birthday gift he got was a Geometry box and not an Iphone.
"Yes. You are all um.. more for support, I guess. To run interference so to speak"
The SuperVirgin's eyes started to glow red "So basically we are canon fodder."
"I wouldn't put it like that." Trey replied
"So how would you put it?" She seemed to be levitating.
"You are all .....my special helpers. Like Santa's elf, you help..."
The words were cut off as a coin sized hole appeared on his chest. Trey collapsed. Robber Joe was standing behind him.
"Robber... Joe.." he wheezed. "Minions... attack..hi"
Joe gently caressed his Gold and Platinum Rifle. "Now that you've heard this asshole's proposal, its my turn."
In a single motion he cocked the gun and fired. Diamonds started to fall on the assembled teens
"I am in need of promising employees. Comprehensive health care, Expert Training, great growth opportunity and plenty of job security"
He smiled, showing off his gold encrusted teeth. "So who's in?"
| "Next!" Captain Phenom rolled his eyes and shooed the tattooed ex-con out of the office. He was quickly losing patience. This was the forty-sixth interviewee he'd had today, and so far only two had not served a prison sentence. Those two were aged 12 and 14.
How did the ThunderLord do it with such ease? The Captain had two members of his team, both spandex-clad morons to put it lightly. One was his sister's failure of a son and the other was an elderly hippie.
"Steve," he called out to his secretary. "Can you get ThunderLord on the phone?"
He picked up the receiver and composed himself as the phone rang. His arch nemesis answered on the second ring, his robotic voice rife with contempt.
"Ah, Captain Phenom!" He chuckled merrily. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
The Captain took a deep breath.
"Yeah, look, mate. Are you hiring?" | 2015-10-06T06:18:06 | 2015-10-06T06:16:56 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] You’re dead. Your final judgement has come. Heaven, or hell? Turns out, your pet has the final say. | "Huh. That's my body."
I hunched over it, kicking it slightly with my foot, which passed harmlessly into my rib cage.
**YES**. **IT APPEARS AS THOUGH YOU HAD A HEART ATTACK**. The Grim Reaper, scythe in hand, stood by my side, looking on with what I judged to be professional sympathy, though it was a bit hard to tell, what with the black hood and robe.
"Well, what now?" I said, looking down at my ethereal hands and waving them back and forth. They also passed through each other, which raised a lot of questions.
**IT IS TIME**. **COME**. I felt a slight tug, as the world around my body faded, and a new, blank slate appeared. **JUDGEMENT**.
In place of the blank world, two gray-hooded figures appeared. One appeared to be slightly darker, the other, more light. A feeling in my stomach said one was evil, the other good. The darker figure spoke, *Bring out the witnesses!*.
One by one, I saw them. Like a grand parade, almost every one came out as I remembered them. Healthy, vibrant, tails wagging excitedly. I was soon surrounded by an avalanche of every creature I had ever loved in my entire life. I lay on the ground for several minutes, crying, and gathering as many as I could, trying my best to simultaneously pet well over a dozen dogs.
The gray-hooded figures turned to eachother, then to the one hold out from my procession. She was the smallest of the bunch, a burnt orange color, with a dark mouth. She was still at the beginning, standing, shaking, hunched near whatever portal the gray-hoods had brought her out of.
*She is your judgement*. *She decides your fate*. *What will it be, creature?*, the two hoods took turns dictating.
I turned to her. She had been my first dog. I had made plenty of mistakes with her. I hadn't walked her enough, left her alone for too long, hadn't trained her enough. But at the end of the day, I'd loved that dog more than any thing else in the entire world. I hoped she knew that.
I looked towards her, and said her name, which I was never really sure she distinguished from the word for treat. "Nora?"
She looked up, slowly padding over, tail still between her legs. I held out my hand for her, she'd been going blind, at the end of her life. She sniffed at it, curiously. Then, just to make sure I knew it was her, she sat down, looked straight at me, and pawed at my hand. When I first trained her to shake, she hadn't been interested in treats, but belly rubs. So for her entire life, in order to get belly rubs, she had tried to shake instead.
I reached out, rubbed her belly, and kissed the top of her head. "I love you too pup".
*She has judged you, come wi-*. The lighter hood began say.
"No! Leave me here!"
*I offer you Heaven*. *Eternal paradise*.
I looked around at all my pets, spanning over a century of my life.
"I have it."
| The bloodied gunman had finally been defeated. Riddled with bullet holes, he was hard to recognize even by anyone who knew him. He entered the hall of judgment, a grim look in his eye. He knew that he had killed hundreds, if not thousands, or people. He did it for revenge, something he wasn't sure the Almighty would understand. The angel raised an eyebrow, surprised at his state. People entered the hall looking like they did when they died, or, just disembodied if they were completely obliterated. But he had not seen someone so injured when they died. This was a resilient man. He cleared his throat. "And now, thou shalt be judged." He said, "You committed murder, you sought revenge, and only those from your organization would speak positively of you, yet, even that can be argued to be biased." The man gritted his teeth. He had already practically lived through hell in real life, would he have to do it again? He begun to try to argue, but the angel held up a hand. "However, there is a very clear way to determine whether you are a good person or not," the angel spoke, radiant light shining, "insignificant events. You helped out people on streets even when you didn't have to, you were devoted to your wife even after her death. And perhaps most important, your revenge was actually caused by this dog right here," he spoke, summoning a puppy that caused the man's eyes to widen in surprise. "Therefore... you shall go to heaven." smiling, the man took his dog, who woofed once, and he stepped into the pearly gates. The angel waved him goodbye. "I wish you luck, John Wick." | 2019-02-26T07:22:03 | 2019-02-26T05:45:29 | 128 | 64 |
[WP] Superman is mentally handicapped. That's why he thinks nobody can pick up the Clark Kent=Superman thing, and everyone plays along in an effort to keep him from throwing a tantrum. The comics are his idea of what is going on. What does a day in Metropolis actually look like? | "So anymore business left to discuss? Or shall we call this meeting to an end"
Blank faces returned the relief of no reply. Time for our bald headed businessman to get up and leave. To escape to the tennis courts after another morning of bad news. To his left he saw his private secretary shift in her chair. "Just one last thing Lex." He felt a headache coming on, couldn't this wait for later?
"There's another request from the Metropolis Make a Wish foundation." she said.
"Okay but make it short I have another meeting in five."
"Well there's a young man, Clark Kent, he has a serious mental handicap." She flicked through the paperwork "His home town like to allow him to dress up as a superhero and save the day. They want him to come to the big city for one big world saving 'fight'."
"Out of the question. I won't donate to this nonsense fantasy. Give me something with more charitable legacy. Like helping curing cancer or something. More money in that." Now it was time to leave, but she spoke up again.
"Oh they don't need funding they've raised a huge amount online already. They're just asking you play a part in the scenario. The Daily Planet are already behind it and saying you're in for the role."
"Lying bunch of-I hate that newspaper. Fine we can't say no now and i'll only do it if this keeps the press vultures off my back. What do the need me for? Saving the day along with the little nutter?"
"Not exactly, Bruce Wayne already accepted that role. He's going to be a support character called Batman." She sighed and blushed at his name "You know a heroic rival and a friend, that sort of thing."
"Oh! Of course he gets to play hero. Never done hard days work in his life. So I guess I'm giving out the medals at the end?"
"No." She twitched away, delaying his tennis time with her fumbling.
"Then what?!"
"They want you to play the villain. To be the threat this kids saves the world from." The VPs in the room chuckled.
"This is the Daily Planets idea isn't it?"
"They did help start the fundraiser. So it is a possibility."
"Of course it is. Note it down the next time Lois Lane comes knocking just agree to an interview. Christ agree to dinner and a movie if it gets her fangs out of me. If you need me i'll be a tenni-ten o clock meeting."
| *"We HAVE to give him the Reporter of the Year Award, Harold!"*
*"Again? How many times are we going to do this? Look, I am grateful to Superman. He is the savior of the city and protector of humanity, but Clark Kent is a fucking hack reporter. I don't owe that guy a thing."*
*"Let me make this clear to you. We're not the only ones in on the joke. Clark is getting offers from newspapers and TV stations nationwide! The offers are flooding in. They're offering to make him to make him an anchor on TV in Gotham, the editor of the local papers in Zenith City, anything to steal him away from us. And he's considering them! He is starting to think he is stunted here as a reporter. So, yes. He wins the award. He gets the raise. We throw him parade. And we smile! SMILE HAROLD!!!! Got it?!?!?!?"*
| 2016-03-04T10:08:01 | 2016-03-04T08:43:31 | 27 | 11 |
[WP] Your father left 20 years ago the night before your birthday to get Cigarettes, Milk, and Bread. Today he comes home with long bedraggled hair, weather beaten skin, and a sword on his hip. The first thing he says to you is "You're never going to believe what happened." | At first Emma thought he was an old tramp. She glanced at him, smelling the cheap whisky on his breath. Her instinct was to give him some food or a few dollars. It took a moment for the image of the father that sat in her mind to reconcile with this person that stood before her.
Twenty years changes a person. All these years she'd remembered him through old photos and long ago memories. A youthful twenty something, smiling, laughing, filled with energy.
Now he just looked old. Deep bags and wrinkles surrounded his eyes making him look like a tired dog. He'd put on weight and no longer stood proud and tall, his back instead stooped forward.
She considered pretending she didn't know him. If he had changed, surely she had too. But her face showed recognition and he noticed. "So it is you." he said. She nodded.
She had nothing to say. The last time she'd seen him, he'd read her a bedtime story, tucked her in to sleep. Part of her was still trapped back there, still an 8 year old in awe of her father. She found herself being pulled back to that time, acting like the little girl she was then. Curiosity overtook her, "What happened?" she asked, a grin appearing on her face.
He told her a story, he was always a great storyteller. She used to get excited before each bedtime, just waiting for his stories. His whole body straightened, the wrinkles faded, his body filled with energy. He was that young man again, telling her a tall tale.
On the way to the store he'd been kidnapped by pirates and taken aboard their ship. They branded his buttock with a hot iron, initiating him into their crew. He'd travelled to Asia with them, fought in a war in a far away magical land. He'd found treasures, fought evil villains and fallen in love, "But don't tell your mom." he said with a wink. She giggled.
As the story went on, she noticed his bedraggled hair was nothing but a bad wig. The sword on his hip - a cheap, plastic replica. More than ever she could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath. The illusion had been broken and again all she could see was an old tramp.
She tried to get angry with him, but she couldn't. She'd long since made peace with the fact he'd left. As a child she'd been heartbroken, but then life took over and he was more or less forgotten about. Now that he was standing on the step in front of her, she felt a yearning for him. Her father. She missed him now that he was here.
"...and that's how I escaped from the Evil Baron in Russia." He grinned and stopped to seek her approval. All she could do was stare in silence. His grin turned to a frown and he sighed, pulling the wig from his head to stare at the floor. "I'm sorry" he said. "I shouldn't have done what I did. I can't change that now. But I want to make it up to you." She stared at him and all she could feel was pity. This broken man in front of her. Even after all these years, he was still her father. She still loved him like a little girl.
She took the wig, placing it on his head, adjusting it so it was straight. He looked up at her as she sat down on the front step before him. She patted the step beside her. "Tell me what happened next pop! Did you defeat the Evil Baron?" He sat beside her and went back to his story, making her laugh, making her cry. And she never wanted it to end. | "Rioting continues over water shortages as what's left of the government scrambles to--"
There was a knock on the door. I shut off the tv and headed over to see who it was.
"Dad?!?"
There he was, looking more haggard and old than he did when he left me and my mom over twenty years ago, carrying a beat-up burlap sack, but there he was.
"How ya doin', kiddo? You got taller." He said with a grin spreading across his face.
"You've been gone twenty years! Mom said you were dead!"
"Well, your mother says a lot of things, not all of which are true." He replied, still grinning his sly smile. "Anyway, I'm back. With all the stuff I said I'd bring back!"
He pulled out a loaf of squished bread, slightly moldy on the edges, a yellowing jug of milk that sounded like only solid curds instead, and one crumpled, dog-eared carton of cigarettes. He picked one out of the box and lit it with a match.
"Sorry it took so long for me to come back, things are just complicated, yknow?" He said as he puffed on the cigarette.
I nodded unconvincingly.
"Anyway, where's your mother? I haven't seen her around."
"She-- she died." I replied, looking downwards.
Dad's face fell, "I'm sorry. I didn't... I didn't know."
"It's fine."
"How'd she die?" He asked.
"Raiders killed her. I think they ate her afterwards too."
"Well, if she's still anything like the woman I married, they're gonna have a hell of a time chewing her!" He laughed.
"Anyhow, champ, what's in the past is in the past, and I'm back now. How about you forgive your old man and we can be a family again?"
I stared out the open door at the blasted, arid desert that our world had become.
"I'd like that."
"Anyway, what else did you get from your scavenging run?" | 2016-07-20T06:00:41 | 2016-07-20T03:52:58 | 114 | 19 |
[WP] Your paintings come to life. People beg you to depict departed family members, exotic treasures, even tiny universes. A penniless, beaming monk requests you paint something that makes YOU happy. Having rendered every lover, ambition, and utopia, you're at a complete loss for where to begin.
Edit: Thanks so much, everybody! ;_; I was deeply touched by your responses! | "What is happiness, you ask?", the old monk contemplated, smiling at the man sitting opposite him.
"Why, you can have anything...*anything* in the world, Joseph. Anything you can possibly want, with a few strokes of a pencil, it will be there in front of you", the monk said. "The more accurate question, my good man, is why is it hard for you to find yours?"
Joseph was silent for a while, thinking for an answer. The answer that had alluded him for as long as he had lived...why couldn't he find his happiness?
"I...I don't know...", Joseph finally answered, honestly. "I thought...I thought I could always find my answer in my drawings. I saw them everyday, the people that came to me, asking me to draw their departed loved ones, their greatest wish. Once fulfilled, I see the happiness beaming on their faces. I...I want that feeling. And yet every time I tried, sitting in front of a blank piece of paper, I couldn't do to myself what I did to others..."
The old monk chuckled. "Your thoughts are clouded, young Joseph. You thought you can find your answer on a piece of paper, that you can draw what it is you seek. But maybe the answer you can't just simply put into drawings"
Joseph's heart dropped. "I can't...? But that's the only way I know how to do"
"Oh nonsense. Look at me, young Joseph. I have nothing, I yearn not the worldly feelings or materialistic possessions, yet I find my happiness in everything I do", the old monk said. "It all comes from here..."
The old monk rested his palm on Joseph's forehead.
"Peace of mind. Worry not of what will happen tomorrow, worry not of what happened yesterday. Be present, be thoughtful of your mind. We are shaped by our thoughts, you become what you think. Cast away your doubt of yourself, once your mind is pure, joy would follow", the old monk joined his hands together in front of his chest, his expression was serene.
"You are envious of the feelings those people you help had. But have you ever once thought, that fulfilling their wishes was what made you happy? It kept you going, it kept you fulfilled. Not a lot of people could say they found their calling, young Joseph. Look back, look back at your years of helping people-- you found your calling, and you lived it to the best until the very end, did you not?"
Joseph leaned back, thinking. For as long as he could remember, seeing those people who came to him for his service-- drawing their imaginations, some were the wildest of all, for them to yelp in excitement, to cry of joy, to hug him with the utmost gratitude. Every single one of them-- it was all worth it.
"You have found your answer", the old monk stated, seeing the Joseph's expression.
"I have", he answered. "Thank you, thank you for your help"
The old monk stood and bowed graciously. "Be at peace and farewell, my friend"
\*\*\*
Joseph tore the page away from his drawing book. He stared at it smiling, full of ease-- the picture of a wise old man, with his hand together in front of his chest like praying, his expression of warm smile and understanding.
"Peace of mind, at last", he muttered, pressing the picture on his chest.
Lying there on his deathbed, Joseph rested his head on the pillow. All the burden he had in his mind was lifted up. As he drifted away slowly, only joy he felt in his last moment.
"In the end--", he whispered. "I did find my answer through my drawing", he chuckled before closing his eyes forever with the most sincere smile painted on his face.
r/HangryWritey | Everything was strange, almost magical in the way it looked. The crying faces of strangers asking “I miss uncle Gregg and want to see him again” or some other similar form of work, a life sentenced to eternally drawing everyone else’s desires.
It all stayed the same, day in day out painting and drawing everything anybody wanted or missed in this world, until the day he came.
In white robes, and blind as a bat the man creeped over to me, asking me ever so gently “why do you paint for them, when you could paint for yourself?” And I had no answer. He grinned, blind to what I could bring to life for him, and asked a simple question.
“My request, is simple. Paint whatever makes you happy. And that will be the only joy I need”
I pondered for hours, I thought of my passions, my dreams, the ones I’ve loved, and everything else. And I couldn’t care less. I wandered for days searching for what made me happy, I drank myself dizzy and smoked myself blind, so that I could understand what I wanted, and I kept thinking of all the things I’ve painted for people, and the people I painted and the things they loved and realized I couldn’t give a shit about what they wanted.
I took up my brush and began the longest work I’d ever painted. I spent minutes, and hours, and days alike stuck in my studio making every detail, every crack painted perfectly.
Hands bleeding and sweat dripping I took a step back. Finally done I glared at the only thing I thought could ever make me happy.
Everybody who has ever commissioned me, standing around me, as I paint something else. On every face a smile, or tears of joy, or some dumb looking glee that I could never feel, but every time I saw them, thinking I made their lives that much better it made me feel just a little better. It was the only thing in life I think I ever enjoyed. Doing the only thing I loved to make people happy, even if it didn’t pay, would still be worth every second.
As long as I could bring a little joy to this world full of so much loss, and sorrow, then maybe everything wasn’t terrible. Just kind of shitty sometimes.
Edit:spelling | 2021-07-29T18:12:28 | 2021-07-29T17:59:37 | 126 | 85 |
[WP] You are a barista in a 24 hour coffee shop. Every night at 3:33am a demon appears for the Dark Lord's latte. | The Barista sat at the end of a counter in an empty coffee shop, flipping through the pages of a disguarded magazine. The after-bar crowd had just cleared out and it was time for a well deserved break. Turning the page, The Barista's nose was met with a strong smell of sulfur and something sour that sent chills down their spine.
The Barista rolled their eyes and slammed the magazine shut.
"You're late" The Barista mumbled, not even bothering to check their watch.
A shadow stood in front of the register but didn't respond.
"I suppose you've come for another latte" the Barista said while opening a small refrigerator and pulling out a carton of goat milk. "Decaf, extra hot, extra shot, no foam, goatmilk latte for..." the Barista stopped before continuing "...the dark lord." Their back was to the shadow, but was that a smirk on The Barista's face?
The shadow didn't respond at all but seemed to be solidifying. Those were definitely 2 pairs of arms by its sides. It held out the lower right hand expectantly. The smell was worse when it moved.
The Barista was watching the espresso drip from the machine.
"It's the extra shot that gets me, you know?" The Barista chuckled, looking back toward the now solid shape at the register. "Like, does ol' Lordy want an extra shot of decaf or regular? Because one-third-caf doesn't quite roll off the tounge but an extra shot of decaf is... a choice."
The Barista turned back to the coffee. The shape at the register had acquired a glow in the places eyes would be if you considered the mass on top of it the head.
The Barista held one shot of espresso out so the shape could see it and said "I've been meaning to ask you, you know? But I've just been doing the extra as a regular shot and, you know..." The Barista looked back while reaching for the steamed goatmilk. "You keep coming back"
The Barista slowly poured the milk into the cup. Carefully crafting an elaborate pattern. Smiling at their own creativity. The Barista turned back to the register. Still admiring the art.
"It's a shame ol' Lordy's just gonna put a lid on that." The Barista smiled looking the shape straight in the glow. "That'll be $6.66, after tax." The Barista extended their hand and their smile grew.
The shape didn't move. It was completely solid now, casting it's own shadow. Smoke and grime seemed to be leaking from it from places The Barista couldn't see and the smell was starting to make their eyes water.
Both of them stared at each other for a full minute, unblinking, arms out stretched.
The Barista, still smiling with tears building in their eyes, cleared their throat.
"That'll be $6.66, after tax."
Tears were starting to stream down The Batista's face, but they remained smiling. Another minute passed and neither The Barista or the shape at the register had moved.
The smile faded from The Baristas face as they lowered their arm.
"We talked about this last time, dude." The Barista lifted the latte off the counter, still staring the shape in the glow. "No money, no coffee."
The Barista slowly began pouring the contents of the cup on the area where the shape's feet would be if feet had been there. Holding eye contact while the last drop trickled out, carefully setting the cup back on the counter and continuing to stare into the glow of the shape.
The smile was back on The Bariata's face. "Ask ol' Lordy for a spending account, man. That's pretty standard for assistants these days, you know? Or like, reimbursement or whatever." The Barista shrugged and turned around. Walked back to their seat at the counter, picked up the magazine, and started flipping through for the page they were on before.
The smell started fading and The Barista looked back up. The shape was gone. The smoke and grime were gone. All that remained was a puddle of cooling latte on the floor.
The Barista chuckled to themself then said,
"You know, I think that thing's a demon"
The Barista erupted into a fit of laughter.
"Fucking demon." | “The usual?” I ask the shapeless… blob, I suppose is one way to describe it. It still hasn’t given me its name, so I call it Tim. Looks like a Tim.
“Yesss” the cursed sound comes out, like nails on a blackboard. The first time I heard Tim speak, I swear, my ears bled, it’s so awful. I wonder if it’d be inexcusably rude of me to offer throat caramels.
I begin working on that latte - 2 pumps vanilla syrup, extra sweet with cinnamon on top, as Tim peruses the shop, eyes soulless, and never focusing at anything too long, as always.
‘Last Christmas’ plays on the radio, and the shop is empty. Starbucks, on the corner across the street is equally deserted for once. Must be a Christmas miracle. At least the ‘Dark Lord’ supports local businesses- or Tim does. I doubt his boss would allow him to continue taking her coffee from here if she minded though.
I hum along to the radio as I finish the coffee at set it aside. Tim seems pensive, looking outside the window at the Starbucks barista cleaning up an espresso machine. I decide to leave him to his thoughts a little longer.
…
Setting the mocha down at the bar, I grab my macchiato, because gods above I have another three hours until the next girl’s shift starts, and call out;
“ The coffee’s ready - and this is for you, mocha, it’s a sweetish, chocolate caffeinated drink. On the house.”
Tim stares at me, and slowly comes and sits at the barstool I front of me. We drink quietly, and I appreciate the company. Night shifts may be convenient as they deal with less people, but at times like these, I do feel somewhat lonely.
3.55.
“I better gooo… Thank you, Melissssaa.” it goodbyes me, leaving the money for the latte in the counter.
“Happy holidays, Tim.”
The demon walks out to the lamp-lighted pathway, and fades away into the night. I had never given it my name, and for some reason, I know I’d not be seeing Tim again. After all, a dark creature had just felt happy, and the balance had been tweaked. Who knows what would happen now. But for a moment, Tim was happy. It must have been a Christmas miracle.
~fin~
(As you can see I’m already in a holidays mood, and it’s not even November yet.
Also, I’m using the term Christmas miracle very loosely, in the commercialised, secular sense the Christian holiday has taken under capitalism. Unfortunately, Yuletide miracle or Hanukkah miracle don’t have the same sensationalistic value as Christmas miracle.) | 2022-10-30T14:09:43 | 2022-10-30T13:51:26 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] You gain a magic coin that can grant wishes, but only if you flip it. If it lands on heads, your wish is granted, but if it lands on tails, the opposite of your wish happens. | I had only used the coin twice before. The coin... blessed and cursed in equal measures, just like I am. The day my Grandfather passed it down to me--the day he had died--he had warned me to only use it under the most serious of circumstances. But I've always been a fool and whilst people might think I listen, my hands cover my ears.
The first time I used it I had wished to be rich and successful. I was drunk at the time and didn't really believe the coin could change anything. Well, it landed on heads and I bet on the football that night. I won. I won all my bets. The next day I bought shares in a local company with the money I made gambling.
The second wish I made was to be handsome and adored. There was a girl I liked--more than liked, but she didn't even notice me. Even with all my wealth I couldn't impress her. I flipped the coin and made my wish. The coin landed tails. That night on my way home from the office, a car swerved into mine. I remember the searing heat and the screaming; those God awful screams that I was later told could only have come from me. The other driver had died instantly.
My face was melted. I was repulsive and I thought I couldn't be loved. It took years before I met someone who could stand to look at me, who could touch me, who would kiss me. The coins curse didn't even make her flinch. We had three happy years before the cancer came. As her death crept closer I took the coin out of the safe and placed it into my pocket.
She looked so weak the day I made the wish. Pale and thin and fragile. I knew she was going to die and that it was just a matter of hours. I wept as I left the hospital room and removed the coin from my pocket. I flicked it up in the air and said the words.
When I came back into the room the nurse took me to the side. I pushed past her and saw the flattened pattern on the heart rate monitor. I had made the wish too late; she had died whilst I had been out of the room. I wept and cursed and laid my head on her bosom.
I don't know how long I lay there. Perhaps it was an hour before the cold hand touched my neck and gently stroked my hair.
| My guide to life is a 2 euro coin.
I know, it's really weird, but the coin is my genie.
If I flip it heads when I ask for something, I get that. If I flip tails, I get the opposite.
Having already failed several times, I keep testing my luck. I've been robbed of my entire house, fortune, and knowledge in a night. But as far as I know, if I keep flipping, I'll eventually get rich.
Even though I'm homeless, I try my best to help the other homeless people. Today is my chance to finally change someone else's life.
I flip the coin into a homeless man's cup, praying for heads.
"I hope this man gets back on his feet," I mutter.
An hour later, I feel the coin back in my pocket.
Tails. Definitely tails. | 2016-08-26T07:54:06 | 2016-08-26T07:21:22 | 194 | 10 |
[WP] As an act of desperation, you applied to every college on the list. Sifting through the apologetic rejections, a pure black envelope catches your eye. The letters on it glow crimson red, charcoal-colored smoke wafts from the pages... | \[PART 1/3\]
*As the Dark Lord of the Darklands, it is with great pleasure to congratulate you on being noticed by us. We only recognize the worst and the darkest for our menacing academy. Hence, we cordially invite Reynauld Stormhammer, son of Alfric Stormhammer and Relya Quickquiver, to Calamity University.*
*If accepted, then a full scholarship will be extended to Reynauld Stormhammer alongside any additional funds needed to ensure the worse can become the worst.*
*We commend you and yours on making the world a little bit darker than you left it.*
*With worst regards.*
*Insincerely ,*
*Chancellor Maledictum* *Mayhem*
Reynauld and his father stared at the dark black letter that had been sitting on their dining table for the past two weeks. The letter had come with both a course catalog and a terrifying painting of a red spire jutting out of cracked, blackened earth. It looked exactly like a prototypical castle for the cruel. Next to that letter and its contents was a much larger stack of papers. Each one of them had dark, red letters saying *rejected*.
Alfric Stormhammer, one of the greatest paladins in Earetland's recent history looked at this son.
"It's a full ride, Reynauld... I’m telling you it’s worth it."
Reynauld shot up and slammed his hands on the wooden table between them. "It's the academy of *evil,* dad! Evil! You know that thing that I swore that I would vanquish. I swore to Ishna on my tenth birthday to do so! Just like you did!"
Alfric's face strained as he heard those words. "I *know* son... I was there when you made your vows. Same goddess as me and your mother, but think about it son. It's a *full* ride. I didn't get that during my academy years and *I'm* still paying off my debts. You could go through college, get your Blessing in whatever they do at that school and come out a paladin. I know Ishna would be fine with it. She's been telling me how she can’t wait for you to get through an academy. Say's that... you're something..." Alfric's voice trailed off.
Reynauld gave his father a suspicious look. Reynauld knew that he was possibly the *worst* paladin in training. Every blessing became a curse with him. Every call to light beckoned in darkness. Even something as simple as divine healing became a dreadful disease.
So bad in fact that the Dark Lord congratulated him. Imagine being *so* bad at the good that evil thinks you’re doing a good job.
Reynauld crossed his arms and reluctantly looked at the other pile of letters on the desk. They were all rejection letters from actual schools he wanted to go to.
Notre Gaine's school for the ascended? Rejected.
Marvard's academy for the brightest? Rejected.
Boxford's university for the chosen? Well, they hadn't rejected him... They just didn't even bother sending a letter back.
Reynauld didn't have many choices. Calamity U. was still accredited as a tier-one school. It *would* technically count when Reynauld went for his Blessing of Ishna. He'd just have to figure out how to take the Dread Knight track and make it... well make it more like a Paladin track. His father had done some course theory crafting, the course catalog came with the invitation letter. Alfric had managed to cobble up a Paladin self-study path through the Dread Knight track.
Honestly, the more Reynauld looked at it, the more tempted he was by the offer. Which made him blanch. He never thought that he would have to deal with Dark Lords and their tempting offers *this* early in his paladin career.
"Your mother thinks it's a good idea too. After all, *it’s* a *full* ride." Alfric's encouraging tone just made Reynauld feel more disheartened.
Reynauld looked at his father with a raised eyebrow.
"Here I thought that paladins weren't supposed to make deals with the dark?"
Alfric coughed and cleared his throat.
"Sorry, there’s something in my throat."
"Is it a white lie?"
Alfric shot his son a level look. "You know son, sometimes you remind me a *little* too much of your mother."
Reynauld returned his father’s neutral look with a glare. His father sighed.
"Okay, okay so you're right. Paladin’s *aren’t* supposed to deal with the dark. But Ishna and I talked about it..."
Reynauld straightened up in surprise. "No way, even *she* is saying it's a good idea?"
Alfric nodded at that.
Reynauld looked up at the ceiling and groaned. "Even you too?"
A beam of light came shooting through the window and onto the wooden table. Reynauld looked at it and saw something impossible in the light.
A single golden word etched itself into the table.
*Yes.*
Reynauld threw his hands up and yelled, "okay fine! Fine, I'll go!" | Sigh. Another rejection. I understand if I don't get into somewhere like MIT, but I couldn't even get into community college? I mean sure, I made lots of explosions while inventing... and those explosions might have recklessly killed people, but honestly it wasn't directly my fault. I constantly tell them to stay back, and they don't listen! It's not my fault they don't listen to warnings, my god. Surely the colleges understand that?
My twin screamed from their bedroom. "Mom, MOM, I got into Curtis Institution. My first choice! I can't believe it! I mean, I hoped, but I never expected to actually get in!"
"Of course you got into your first choice school, Sage. You're a brilliant musician, and I can't wait to see you have your music on the radio", my mom told them. She turned to me. "How did your acceptances go, Julian?"
"Nonexistent", I muttered.
"Oh come on, don't tell me you didn't get into any colleges", she replied. "Your inventions are great, I've seen them. You have the power to change the world, just like Sage! Both of your names will go down in history, I know it."
"He'll go down in history as a murderer, sure", Sage added.
"Now, now, Sage. I know Penny's death was hard for you, but you know full well your brother didn't mean it. You should stop ignoring and being passive aggressive to him all the time", my mom says.
There was an awkward silence. I go back to my room to brainstorm another invention and burn all the rejections, when I spot a thick, pure black envelope on my desk that wasn't there before. Carefully, I open the letter, and the first paper is written in glowing, crimson words.
"This is the only way. Go back to when you were thirteen, and relive your entire teenage life, except this time, keep the causalities to a minimum. Then, go as normal with your college applications. You will find yourself to me more successful. Don't worry about paradoxes. You will replace your past self instead of just creating a new version of you in the past. Just don't let it slip that you've gone back, and don't say stuff you shouldn't know, and you'll be good."
Attached is something I immediately recognized. It was my time machine prototype, except with a few things adjusted here and there, some new thing added, and a few things removed entirely. It was the same invention that ruined my relationship with Sage. Sage, who is now standing behind me.
"What that?", they questioned. "Another plan for an explosion? Have you resorted to terrorism due to lack of education?"
"No, Sage. Now ple-"
Before I could respond, she snatches the blueprints from my hands. She doesn't see the note though, as that's still on my desk. I know that I probably won't be able to get the blueprints out of her hands, so I hide the note while I can.
"Time machine, ay? Isn't this the same thing that killed Penny?", they asked.
"No", I respond. It's the truth, it was another version of said time machine that killed Penny. She volunteered to test the time machine, so I let her.
Sage smacks me in the face, then kicks me in my balls. "DON'T PLAY DUMB WITH ME. I KNOW IT IS. HOW COULD YOU STILL THINK ABOUT IT?" They leave my room, with the blueprints still in their hands.
I may consider going back in time to fix everything, I may not. But it won't matter if I don't have access to those blueprints.
Should I continue? | 2021-02-03T10:53:25 | 2021-02-03T08:34:22 | 316 | 51 |
[WP] Write two small stories with the exact same words in the same order, but with punctuation giving them completely different meanings.
[deleted] | *The police officers close the door as they leave, and a heavy tension descends upon the two of us. We watch each other warily.*
“Did you kill her?” he asks.
“Did you?”
There is a long silence. “Yes.”
I say; “how could you?”
“She loved you more than me.” His eyes flash with anger.
“I was her husband!”
“Will you tell them?”
I glance at the door. “Yes. She deserves justice.”
“I hate you,” he says, pulling out a knife, still covered in Alice’s blood.
I stare at him. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure no one will ever know the truth. Alice deserved better than you,” he says, lunging with the knife.
I kill him, reluctantly. I pull out the blade from his chest, crying. I don’t condone killing. That’s what makes me human.
*“That’s how it happened?” the police officer asks.*
*“Word for word,” I tell him sweetly, flashing my most honest smile.*
*“Then it sounds like self-defence,” he mutters. “We’ll be in touch.”*
*I leave, barely refraining from whistling triumphantly, and instead play the last hour back in my mind, of how it really happened…*
“Did you kill her?” he asks. “Did you?”
There is a long silence. “Yes,” I say.
“How could you?”
“She loved you more than me.”
His eyes flash with anger. “I was her husband!”
“Will you tell them?” I glance at the door.
“Yes. She deserves justice. I hate you,” he says.
Pulling out a knife, still covered in Alice’s blood, I stare at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure no one will ever know the truth.”
“Alice deserved better than you,” he says.
Lunging with the knife, I kill him. Reluctantly, I pull out the blade from his chest.
Crying; I don’t condone.
Killing; that’s what makes me human.
| The moment I left, or the only moment left:
-“Stay close.” Your eyes: hope.
-“No, I have to go away.”
-“Don't leave me alone.” Now fear.
-Love, it makes everything... Better go now.
-"Stay. Close your eyes, Hope."
-"No!"
-"I have to."
-"Go away! Don't! Leave me alone now!"
-"Fear... Love it. Makes everything better. Go now..."
| 2015-09-23T16:48:26 | 2015-09-23T10:05:10 | 35 | 18 |
[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 took the cases nobody wanted. And I don't mean the greedy ones, or the violent ones, or even the silly ones. No, I took the cases that no one wanted. The hardest kinds of cases: the ones involving kids. No, not the happy ones either. I took the cases that involved sick kids, dying from incurable diseases. The kids that came from unspeakable abuse, neglect or poverty. I took the cases that made parents go home at night and hold their kids close until they could face the world once more. The cases that caused seasoned veterans of the trade quit.
The newbie lawyers always gravitated towards these cases, these cases were the noble reasons why some people decided that this was the career they wanted. Not a single one of them were prepared. The red tape, standing before expressionless gods and pleading for little Timmy to see his dog one more time, or for Jane to have warm clothes in the dead of winter. You come into this field expecting to help grant wishes to those who need them, but nothing can prepare you for the soul-sucking bureaucracy in the name of cosmic balance.
I take these cases, without fail. Determined to not let these kinds of cases wallow in limbo, never solved, never granted because they were just too spiritually draining. I never wanted to see another kid suffer like my sister had. Her wish never granted, such a simple and sweet wish that not one wanted to have to argue for because it was too hard. The Supreme Judges appear unfazed when presented with normal human suffering, because their only concern is the ultimate cosmic balance. How do you explain to an immortal being not only the concept of mortal suffering but also why Innocent children deserve more consideration. It's draining. My sister's wish had slipped through the cracks, unfulfilled before she had died, and I refuse to let that happen to another child.
Besides, even if the Supreme Judges deny requests, well, I have other means. Demons don't answer to the cosmic balance, and despite the negative stereotype of a demon, they're more humane than most humans. I have my own private network of demons more than willing to take time out of their day of bargaining and luring greedy humans into mortal mortages to help me fill a child's wish.
I may end up paying some dire cosmic punishment for dealing with demons, but it will be worth it. I have no mortal ties, no family to leave behind. And a line of demons ready to adopt my domestic zoo of pets should I die. I'll never be able to fulfill my sister's wish, but I think she'd be proud to know that I have dedicated my life to making sure a wish like hers never goes unfulfilled. | The sounds of grunts and footsteps penetrated your dreams.
"The wife must be having a nightmare" you thought as you drifted between the waking and dream worlds. As you slowly started deafen yourself to the noise and head back to dreamland a startling revelation throws you back into the waking world with a start.
You are not married. You aren't even dating anyone (dry spell much?). There shouldn't be anyone there but you!!!
Your eyes fly open and scan the faces surrounding your bed. Ifrites, Genies, faeries and demons faces are eyeing you down... The faeries were the worst, they so didn't look like their children book counterparts. Whatever they were paying the PR firm it was worth it!
One of the genies materialized a club in his hand and one by one every single entity in the room took out a blunt weapon.
Genie "You the lawyer guy? Our wish fulfillment not good enough for ya? We'll show you what we do to wise guys around these parts!"
| 2018-07-18T17:02:59 | 2018-07-18T11:05:03 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] From a bug's perspective, humans are ageless eldritch beings who would kill them without a second thought. You are a fly among many, infesting one of their basements, but one of your kind made the mistake of irritating the human. Now the human is out for blood. | Beware the Elder Gods, little larvae. Only fools draw Their attention, but damned are those who draw Their ire, and damned also those who are cursed to live in such times.
They commanded and transformed the stones and earth below and They felled the Trees of Life to become the ur-material of this realm, and joined them with items of uncanny and alien matter to separate this world from the Chaos beyond. They plucked the stars from their heavenly dances and bound them in strange and beautiful cages. They command the elements of fire and water, and have even tamed the great cold and warmth that is said to drive our wild cousins in the outer Chaos through eras of plenty and eras of want.
They are immortal, immense, and unknowable. They themselves are sources of *heat*, and Their exoskeletons are strange, flexible, *unnatural* things. They are formless, indistinct to our eyes; so incomprehensibly vast that we cannot grasp Their true forms.
They do not kill for food, unlike the many peoples of the world, nor even like the long-lived Children of Arachne, who take their sadistic pleasure in tricking and trapping and consuming their prey, but still loathe waste.
But They suffer poorly those who intrude in this world uninvited, and those who do not properly abase themselves and hide our wretched forms from Their gaze in fear.
Many fools have brought ruin upon themselves and their kin by forgetting to hold to the old ways, by wandering in the open before the Gods, or by reaching with desperate legs towards the treasure troves of sacred sustenence that the Gods have set aside for Themselves. But we gather here, young ones, in this dark and forsaken corner, so that the whispers of the story to come will bind the fear of the Great Ones into your very *souls*.
For once, there lived in this land a race of beautiful people, named Muscae, with shimmering black exoskeletons and translucent wings, who treasured cleanliness and loved all types of food, and who above all else loved to move through the open air, darting above the floors and tables as their whims took them, seeing every sight the realm had to offer.
But for all their beauty and whimsy, they were a race without fear. They would taunt the Children of Arachne, flying around their webs and shouting that for all the Arachnids' long lifespan, they still lived less brooding on their webs than the Muscae, who packed their days with adventure and food and love. They even would sneak onto the holy sustenance of the Gods, when they believed that the eyes of the Gods were not on them, stealing bites and then fleeing with laughter.
Then, one day, one young Musca became too brazen, and stole from the Gods while in Their sight, and challenged Them by landing on Their sacred, inviolable corpora. He danced away from Their warnings, claiming that They *could not* kill him.
They then brought Their wrath down upon him, and he was smote down, and the Muscae mourned the bravest of their number while the other peoples shook their heads in dismay at his hubris.
But the wrath of the Gods at being challenged is terrible, dear larvae, and They decided to suffer not the existence of *any* Muscae within Their realm.
They began to smite all those that They saw. The holy sustenance that the Muscae so arrogantly stole instead started to kill horribly all those who dared eat it, and even those who had not partaken began being enchanted to eat it, unable to resist its draw. Their very bodies became cursed, forbidden for us to touch, and any creature who tried to use the bodies of the Muscae as sustenance died as the Muscae did. Then the very surfaces the Muscae landed on began to seize their legs, forcing them to die slowly, unable to fly as they loved to, as if to punish them for the blasphemous flight of their brother.
And so, my sweet little larvae, we gather here for this lesson because here lies the corpse of the last Musca, who cowered here weeping as all her brothers and sisters were punished for their sins, and died finally posessing the fear of the Gods that her and her kind had so foolishly lost.
Pray that you never lose yours. | The looming drifter strode through morning fog. Mouth agape and moaning, rubbing tired eyes with hands bigger than dead birds. Fletcher, a young house fly, watched from below. This strange, pink skinned giant wandered through their lands from time to time. Coming from the sky world above, into the concrete world below. Dredging food stores back up to the sky world. Food stores, locked away in massive metal cans, hundreds of wingspans tall.
Fletcher was a curious fly, always buzzing around forbidden places. Today was no exception. He knew the legends of what was held inside the giant’s skulls. Endless food. Food like nothing ever tasted. An elder fly claimed to have flown inside a giant’s ear once, devouring a morsel of the treasure held inside. Fletcher was the only one who believed him. Ever since the Waldorf massacre, buzzing around humans was strictly forbidden. Regardless, today was the day fletcher would prove the elder fly right. He’d been training for this moment two days of his three day life span. Fly high above the human, drop silent and buzz in at the last second.
Wrapping their hand around a can of dead fish, the giant turned back towards the sky world entrance. Booming footsteps climbing up the zig-zag Mountain. Fletcher launched into the air, zipping high above the human’s head. He stopped, wings frozen, and dropped back down towards earth. Wind rushing past as he dropped down to ear-level and buzzed back to life, darting inside the human’s ear and- fletcher slammed against orange spongy softness. “w-what?” he stammered looking up at the wall of foam. Something was stuck inside the human’s ear, protecting it from intrusion.
The human twitched and warbled strange repetitive sounds, rubbing at their ear the palm of a giant hand. Fletcher buzzed away at the last moment, barely escaping death. The Human stepped forward, their foot slipping off the red plateau of zig-zag mountain, tumbling backwards with a dreadful boom. The back of their skull crashed onto on the concrete desert as reverberating booms rippled out. Fletcher spun to a crash landing beside the fallen giant. Getting his bearings, he looked up at fallen titan. It’s two eyes were still. It wasn’t breathing. Red water trailed out from its ear onto the floor.
Fletcher felt a rush of guilt. The gentle giant was dead. His guilt slowly turned to realization. Realization that he and his brethren would have food for generations to come. Buzzing off the ground he flew back to tell the others.
&#x200B;
\_\_\_\_
More stories at r/polterkites | 2020-08-13T15:52:43 | 2020-08-13T15:20:44 | 46 | 16 |
[WP] Outside of your hometown you are known as an untouchable monster, someone who will never let any superheroes or villains come near his territory. The whole world fears you, but the smiles and support of the townsfolk as they thank you for keeping peace makes it all worth it. | As i sit at a bar, slowly sipping away at my drink i can't help but smile and think back. I take a look around at the bar, and realize I've been here almost an hour now. almost everyone else has gone home, but i'm here. I make eye contact with a fellow patron, as he raises his glass to me. i raise mine back, as we both take a sip. See, i may look human now, but it's only been about two years since i learned to transform into one. Everyone in this town knows who i 'really' am, but nobody outside the town does. It's been almost ten years since the first incident of this town.
Back then, when i couldn't even think about ever having a normal human form ever again. I was an experiment. One that, while technically a success, the lab blowing up was not. I'm not the one who did that, and i may never find out who did. I don't care, I was tortured, beaten, and tested on. I still remember the pain, the smell of my burnt fur. After the first experiment, the closest thing that could describe me was a bulky werewolf. I don't think that's what i am, but who knows.
About ten years ago, after the lab exploded, that's when i escaped the lab. I was so injured then, i didn't think i could stand. I forced myself to walk for miles though, the pain unbearable. All I knew was if I didn't keep moving, then I would die. When i finally saw lights, that's when I ended up here. This town I call home.
When I first got here, I ended up collapsing in the main square. Everybody was too afraid to go near me. Everyone except her. Even with everyone pleading, and telling her I was dangerous, she walked up to me. I don't remember much about that day specifically, but I do remember the next few. Waking up covered in bandages, and with her asleep on my arm. A few days later, that's when they arrived, and when i became the beast of Bensvil.
See, when they showed up, the hero and the villain, they were in a huge fight. The surrounding forest was starting to burn from their attacks. Chunks of earth flying all over the place. When they landed in the town, everybody gathered around. I walked up, trying to figure out what was going on as well.
I don't remember exactly what was said, all I remember was the stereotypical hero verses villain speeches. The villain threw some sort of energy attack, and while everyone freaked, the hero stood his ground. He smacked the blast away, but that was the problem. See, he hit it strait at her. As it turns out, when fully healed I'm fast, and strong as hell. I jumped in front, expecting to die.
Before i could even ask her if she was okay, I felt rage boil. He's a hero, how could he just throw an attack like that so half hardheartedly. The next thing i know, I've driven his face into the ground. As the villain laughs hysterically, seeing as how I just beat his rival in a single blow, I can't help but hate him too. In the blink of an eye, i launched him to the next city over. I hear the hero get up, and I immediately march right up to him. "leave. and tell everyone, EVERYONE! not to mess with this place." he groggily nods, as I send him flying to a city in the opposite direction.
That was the first encounter. there have been others, but this was the first. Ever since that day, I've settled down nicely in this... nearly, quiet town. Their smiles, and knowing i'm welcome is the only thing I need. I feel a hand on my shoulder, as I remember I'm back in a bar. It's her, that beautiful smile. I can never get enough. I get up, and begin to head home, with her, my loving wife. The one person who, even though I looked like a beast, still treated my like i was human. I will always protect this place, no matter from what, or who. | The outside world is a scarier place, but I’m scarier.
Almost a century ago, the radiation started to kick in. As soon as it was discovered that this would in fact not kill us, the world rejoiced and realized that it was changing people. At first we were all scared. That is, until heroes started popping up. Suddenly, there was no reason to fear because there were people always looking out for us. Of course, there would always be those who combated them, but no one really seemed to mind since they were soon taken care of.
When I was in my early twenties, the radiation got to me too. After noticing the symptoms, I was happy. I was as simple minded as to believe in heroes myself. When I noticed how I was changing, I broke down. What was once thought to be strength came with it this ugly green color. What was once thought to be super vision came with it these horrendous eyes with an animal quality to them. I was horrified.
I had to drop out of college, and head back to my home. I was petrified to let my parents see me like this, but I had little choice. Along the way, those who saw me told me thought that I was a villain, but I still kept moving on.
When I got home, I found my house in ruins. After some digging, it was discovered that they were just collateral against a battle. Their killers unknown.
I don’t know where this rage inside of me came from, but I had an animal instinct to not let this happen to anyone else. At first, I acted sort of like a vigilante, working in the shadows. Rumors of this mysterious beast spread, and both the heroes and the villains came looking for me. I took care of them. I have dedicated myself to taking care of this village.
“Oh hello dear!” Mrs. Wilkins calls to me from across the street. I hold up my alien hand and give a snarl like grin back.
I guess that I forgot to mention, I’m now seen as the sole hero for my town of Steelheart. At first it was hard, especially with everyone outside being afraid of me, but everyone is grateful here. I suppose that we are all just sick of both the heroes and the villains. Now, this village is our own little safe haven, and I won’t let anyone attack it. Anyone who wants to get into my territory will have to go through me first, and that’s what’s saved us all. | 2020-10-01T08:05:15 | 2020-10-01T07:52:15 | 22 | 12 |
[WP] Villains are actually paid by the government to make sure heroes don't become bored with their job. Explain what happens when a villain finally comes clean to his enemy.
Edit: thanks for all the replies to this.! I loved reading every one of them | "No no no... listen Steve..."
I looked down at him. Captain Incredible. Lying in a puddle of his own blood and shit. He started coughing. I waited but had to look away. The blood he was coughing out beeing a little disgusting even for me. I walked a few steps and played with my gun.
"Even after all these things you have done. After you saved so many people... you were still a danger to the rest of the world. See the people are never afraid of the bad guys. Because the good guy will stop them. But what they are afraid of are the good guys. They are afraid that if the good guys snap one day that there will be no other good guys to stop them."
I felt how he looked up at me. Even in his current state he would be able to kill me easily. Yet he didnt. He listened.
"Do you know what happened 6 years ago ? When you first appeared doing all this fancy Superman shit. Laser eyes, super strength, invulnerability... well atleast as long you didnt get shot by a kryptonite bullet." I chuckled "Just like Superman."
I walked up to him and kneeled down. He wouldn't live long yet he fought hard to stay alive. I patted him on the head, a wide grin appearing on my face.
"Like I was saying. 6 years ago you started this superhero thing. And the first thing that happened to me back in the insane asylum was... this."
I presented a blue envelope with the seal of the United States on it. I held it in front of his face.
"I wasnt the only one who revieved it. Many other crazy homicidal maniacs recieved it. And what did it say ?"
I packed away the letter and sat down on his back. Like on top of a horse and began playing with his hair. I have to say his hair gel was amazing. It kept his hair looking awesome even while he was flying at the speed of sound.
"The letter was an invitation. I had to do what I could do best: be a homicidal maniac. I had to be a bad guy so that you had enemies. So that you couldn't make humanity your enemy. I had to be the bad guy so that you could be the good guy."
He started coughing again. It looked kind of weird from my position.
"Many others... Butch, Khaled, Sylvia... all of them were just like me. Fresh from an insane asylum and with loads of goverment funding. Only thing was that they died. That you killed them. I on the other hand stayed alive for long enough. Long enough to see YOU..." I played a drum solo on his head "...turn. What the people were most afraid of actually happened. So here is the question: If the good guy turns bad... who will stop him ?"
I jumped up and walked forward a bit. Then I turned around again and pointed my gun at him again. This time pointing it at his head.
"Well..." I chuckled "Me!" | The bombs had been disarmed at last, but their timers still quietly ticked in the background. He approached the bloodied figure that lay laughing. "There's one thing I don't get...What do you get out of this?" The figure straightened his collar out as a sick smile began to form on his face.
&nbsp;
"You really don't know do you? Did you really believe that everyone just showed up when you did? A man like you, always on top of everything, missing what's right in front of you." He wheezed out a laugh.
&nbsp;
"You've stopped armies of men. Heck, you got Hugo back before his plane had left the city, and you've stopped us in places people haven't even heard of. Where do you think all our resources come from when you're so busy foiling all of our robberies? You're a one man army, and the world hires us to keep it safe from people like you."
&nbsp;
"What's the matter bats? No witty remark? It'd be funny if it wasn't so pathetic... Oh what the heck.. I'll laugh anyway"
&nbsp;
As the Joker lay on the floor laughing, Batman was at a loss for breath..
"Alfred, did you get all that?"
There was no response. | 2015-05-23T22:47:54 | 2015-05-23T20:54:30 | 37 | 16 |
[WP] There is an average of 9,728 planes carrying 1,270,406 passengers in the sky at any given time. As these flights touch down at their airports they find them empty. In fact everywhere seems too be empty. The only people left were those in the air from commercial jetliner to single engine prop. | 11:00 PM, Tuesday March 25th. As Commercial Liner 774 touched down in LaGuardia Airport in New York City, and her passengers disembarked, they weren’t met with ground crew to properly dock with. Air Control had been dead for some time now. Mordecai, a lanky 20-something year old, was one of the first to ride down 774’s emergency slide, and saw the entirety of the air field barren. As others followed his lead, he rushed towards the airport. He’d never been the athletic type, but with fear and adrenaline pumping throughout his body, his wild and manic dashing got him inside by a considerable margin.
Flickering lights, luggage belts still looping, and an eerie silence is all that was left. He put a hand over his mouth, tears rolling down his petrified face. “I didn’t want this…” His words bounced off the walls, and reverberated through the hollow halls. “I take it back! I take it back! Take back my wish!” He was screaming, but no one could hear his cries. He’d been angry, and in a moment of weakness, he’d wished the unthinkable upon those he loved. His family, his girlfriend, Mordecai had unknowingly made them disappear. He made the whole world disappear simply because he was tired of them. But now he was terrified of being without them.
A loud shuttering came from overhead, shaking the still airport. Mordecai darted towards the nearest window, and saw dozens of planes touching down in the airfield. He fell to his knees, knowing full well he was to blame for such horrible loss of life. In a few minutes, people would pour inside, searching desperately for their loved ones, only to be all alone. Just like him. Mordecai’s hands fell to his knees, eyes puffy and red.
“Please…” He begged the nameless meteor he’d spoken to once before, “Let me pretend that airplanes in the night sky are shooting stars…” He sniffed, “I could really use a wish right now…” | [POEM]
The million are we
Who were up in the air
when the earth did decree
she would be the dread slayer
Those on the ground
Burned, swallowed, drowned
While we flew above
No awareness thereof
Our vessels set down
Our captains confused
Our fears did compound
Acceptance, refused
Humanity culled.
Our inner light dulled.
We are all that remain,
Those of us on the plane. | 2021-08-14T03:15:24 | 2021-08-13T22:39:58 | 184 | 62 |
[WP] you sold your soul to a devil, but after a while the devil demands a refund. | “You want a... what?”
The Devil and I are having our usual Tuesday bender. I squint over the bottle of whiskey between us, very certain I’ve misheard him.
“A refund. Re-fund. I want to give you your soul back.”
My squint morphs into an open-mouthed stare.
“After a thousand years? Can you even do that?”
“Listen, you’ll get all the time back. You’ll go back to the moment you summoned me. You’ll be a normal human again.”
“And why would I want that?”
I’ve spent the past thousand years living a peaceful life of doing whatever I want. I’m a simple man who wants nothing more than an infinite number of quiet days minding my own business. I haven’t taken over the world; I haven’t turned myself into a vengeful demigod. The Devil gets free whiskey once a week and an easy bargain. What could he possibly want it all back for?
“Listen...” he looks around guiltily and then leans in closer. “You’d be doing me a favor. I... I messed up.“
I lean in as well, intrigued. After over fifty thousand drinking sessions, I consider the Devil to be at least a casual friend. I don’t like the idea of losing my perfect eternal life, but I decide to hear him out.
“How does the Devil mess up?”
“I missed the anti-Christ. He was born a day after we made our deal, and if you recall correctly, we were both blasted on a beach in Maui. I didn’t even know he was born.”
“And how does a refund help that?”
“It’s the only way to turn back time. When a deal is made, it sets a checkpoint in the universe. If I refund the deal, we go back to the day it was made.”
“And then you can reach the anti-Christ again.”
“It would be a huge personal favor. Listen - I’ll even owe you one. On Judgment Day, I’ll cut you some slack. I’ll reject your soul and let you go to Heaven.”
“It can’t possibly work like that. I help you get to the anti-Christ and God just lets me in?”
“He can’t stand to see a lost soul. You’ll be forgiven.”
Sounds iffy, but the Devil is convincing. I didn’t believe in Heaven or Hell until my time with him, but now that I know I could really spend eternity suffering, backing out of the deal sounds pretty good.
“Will I remember all this?”
“No. You’ll live your life without ever having an inkling of a deal with the Devil.”
I think hard for a moment. On the one hand, my life has been pretty great. On the other, I have the chance to escape eternal damnation - if the Devil follows through. And I’d be doing a friend a favor.
“And it can’t be anyone but me?” I ask.
“I’ve already taken the souls of everyone before you. Their deals are complete. You’re the only one left.”
He looks at me with what almost seems like a pleading expression. After a moment, I shrug and nod.
“Fine.”
His face breaks into a wicked grin. I have the creeping feeling I should regret my decision, but in the end it will work out for me. I hope.
“Let’s drink to that,” he says, raising his glass. “Our last drink. Once the whiskey touches your lips, we’ll all go back to the day you and I met.”
I raise my glass as well, trying to think of a good sendoff for my perfect life. “To the anti-Christ,” I say finally.
“To the anti-Christ,” the Devil repeats, and takes a sip. “See you soon, friend.”
I drink. | A soul was promised and a soul was being required now, I lived the life I wanted, lived in sin and enjoyed every second of it, time to pay for it.
This is what Gregory thought as he approached the devil, he had a weird smile on his face when he stopped to look at him, suddenly his smile breaked with a hint of disgust on Gregory.
-you've come to me, that's peculiar, are you here to pay your debt?
Said the devil in a smooth English man tone, while he was sat on the drawer drinking, odly, a traditional sake.
-yes, that's exactly what I'm doing, why do I feel you will do a fuss for it?
-because there's something wrong, let me check, which one was your wish...
He took a phone out of his pocket and started typing on it
-aa yes you are Gregory and wished... The old cliche wish of wisdom, there's something peculiar here, yet you complied you lived a life full of sin and regret
-yes I did, I broke the heart of a thousand women, I laid waste against rules and good conventions, I got seriously into drugs and worst of all I lied to everyone I ever met and made people thank me for that
It was at that point that the devil opened his eyes wide open and started laughing
-what was your last name? This bloody thing does not tell, I miss the good old diary but Twitter has become bloody good
-my full name is Dr. Gregory House
-Now I do want a refund!
Shouted the devil still laughing
-why is that?
-I'm kinda giving you the pardon
-But why?
-because your old sour ugly soul may be worth it
-but you are the devil, you should love crime isn't it?
-that's what you bloody mortals never get, I punish evil, I don't like it, that's why every moron in history that tries to take advantage fails, they always forget that bloody detail.... Now go off before you get lupus or something...
---
I don't know if the story is any good but I had a good laught writing it | 2019-09-30T15:13:39 | 2019-09-30T14:18:27 | 24 | 12 |
[WP] Write a mysterious short story in which a HUGE plot twist is hidden in the first two sentences. | "Yah, hello, this is Dave speaking."
"Listen," someone said on the other end, "don't pick up the phone."
"A little late for that, don't you think?... oh." The mysterious caller had hung up.
That was weird. He placed the phone back on its base. He would have expected this kind of pseudo-cryptic prank call at home, but at work? How did this guy even get a physics lab's number? Dumb luck, Dave guessed. He went back to his experiment.
This was the crucial part. He was glad that little prank was out of the way, for even the slightest distraction could cause a week's work to go out the window, or worse, a containment breach. He was playing with fire here and he knew it, but as long as he was careful...
He touched the dial lightly. He started turning it, ever so slowly... the green laser beam in front of him was narrowing. Soon, he thought, I will know whether I've made the discovery of the century... or if I just suck at math.
The phone rung again. Anger washed over him. Of all the possible times, did it have to be now? With reserved rage, he carefully let go of the dial. After he was sure things were still functioning appropriately, he swung for the phone. "Listen here, you god damn --"
He accidentally bumped a lever with his elbow. Suddenly, everything around him was black.
Oh, no. No, no, no. He was playing with incredible energies and the repercussions of any mistake were literally unimaginable. What was going on? Had he died? All he could see every which way was darkness. He could hear a hollow wind blowing, but that was it.
"Hello?" he called. "Hello?!" he shouted. No answer. He started walking. After a few minutes, he started panicking. He was running now. What is this vast emptiness? Was he ever going to make it out?
He stopped to catch his breath. He must have been running for more than half an hour. "HELLO?!" he shouted once more. Nothing.
Suddenly, he had a thought. He took out his cellphone. He had reception! But it was almost out of juice! He made the quick decision to call his lab.
"Yah, hello, this is Dave speaking." | "This relationship is too hard. We can't go on like this" He held her hand before looking up at nothing in particular and closed his eyes.
He needed time alone ironically. Thinking back to the logic of his decision he felt uncomfortable in his own skin. Their baby sleeping soundly at the end of the bed.
She had no reaction to his words and didn't break a single breath. Her mother said she wouldn't argue the decision. Although she called him a coward.
Placing a letter filled with his heart onto the table he felt a tiny grasp of her hand as he let it go. He picked up the small child and moved to the door as it still slept in his embrace.
"Fare well my love." As he left her lying in her coma. | 2014-09-01T16:24:25 | 2014-09-01T12:09:26 | 42 | 11 |
[WP] A woman prophesied to give birth to the Chosen One gives birth to triplets instead. | Widely whispered these days is a thousand- year-old prophecy. None dare speak it out loud but just about everyone is thinking about it. The Orolian Oracle promised in a thousand years time the Endless War will finally cease and peace will be restored to the Galaxy for the first time in ten thousand years. The multitude of warring tribes will again reunite as one Galactic Empire just like the Golden Age of old.
It is said that the Chosen One will be born to a woman of humble status but noble character on the asteroid Baralenius. The birth will happen on the night of the arrival of the Winter Comet which arrives every 883 years. The Holy Mother shall be known by her birthmark in the shape of the ringed planet Eckseor, the birthplace of the First Galactic Empire. In time her son will return to Eckseor and refund the long-lost empire. All this is known.
In accordance to the prophecy, the Priests of Glom conducted a search far and wide for the Holy Mother, travelling to the farthest and most lawless reaches of the Galaxy. Three years before the predicted birth a woman by the name of Ahrestia with requisite markings was found and brought to the Sacred Temple on Baralenius. There she was ritually bathed and initiated into the Order of Glom, where she was taught the secret teachings of the Universe and prepared for Holy Motherhood.
This included a carefully selected diet and exercise regimen to ensure she is in optimum health before her pregnancy. They gave her books and manuals with which she is to educate the future Saviour in accordance to a carefully devised curriculum. She was taught all the secret rituals to ward off enemies and keep her son hidden until the Chosen One comes of age. After two and a half years of training, she was finally deemed ready and was duly inseminated using the Blessed Seed. The seed was passed down from High Priest to High Priest for the past ten thousand years, it was a relic left by the founder of the Order and the last Galactic Emperor, Guroslocius CXX.
The Blessed Seed was retrieved from the Sacrosanct Freezer and combined from the Egg of Destiny in the Dish of Life. The Chief Fertility Priest performed the sacred fertility ritual as he chanted the Spell of Life and after half a week, implanted the newly created embryo into the Hallowed Womb. At first the pregnancy progressed smoothly but one day, during a Solemn Ultrasound the Sonography Priest made an astounding discovery.
There was a small wiggling mass inside the Holy Mother just as expected. And its body was perfectly formed and well positioned in the womb. However, where they expected to find one baby boy there were three identical ones. The Priests scratched their heads and eventually decided they were a Holy Trinity united as one whole, a symbol of how all three Thirds of the Galaxy will be reunited as one. The boys were individually named Harecula, Fuordo, and Guurong and they were collectively dubbed the Chosen One.
But as the children grew up they proved to be anything but one. They disagreed about nearly everything and constantly fought. When they came of age they waved farewell to their dear mother Ahrestia and left their home asteroid to fulfill their destiny. Once they left home, they soon went their separate ways.
The first-born of the triplets, Haracula decided the most important thing about being a great ruler is military conquest and joined the Jrakan Mercenary Company, the most feared band of hired guns in the Galaxy. The second-born Fuordo believed in scholarship and studied at the Academy of Harmonies where he studied the sciences and the lore, soon becoming the youngest student to earn the rank of Master Scholar. Guurong, born last but not least, had more esoteric and mystical interests. He seeked out the secret and forbidden arts, dark magic long once thought lost to time. He learned to move objects with his mind, slow down time with the movement of his hands, and even raise the dead.
To be continued... | ”AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHH!” the woman in front of me exclaimed. She was in deep pain. She was giving birth to triplets. Strangely, they all came out together. The woman was in agony. She was bleeding horribly.
She died in a few hours.
*18 years later*
My name is Michelle Kazara. I have three children; they’re not mine, I took them into my care. They live with me, in the hospital, where I work.
Every one or two hours, when I get a break, I check on them. They are always fine, sleeping calmly.
Yesterday, things at the hospital did not go well. A man had been shot in the hip, and was bleeding horribly. He was in agony. We tried for hours, but we could not get him to regain consciousness.
I was swapped out for another nurse, so I went to check on the triplets.
I was terrified.
The incubators the children had been laying in were broken. Glass was all over the floor.
I looked around the room for the triplets. I panicked. I searched everywhere. They were my *children*. I had to look after them.
Then I saw the horror in the middle of the room. A three-headed, naked man-child, with six legs, six arms, and three dicks. Their bodies were merged together, and skinless flesh connected them. Their faces were merged together, a mask of terror. They were a bloody bundle of limbs and bones and muscles. It was a monster. A freak. But it was… the children. Together.
Perhaps when I watched their mother give birth to them years ago, I should have seen it coming. They came out as a trio. Like they were… *meant* to be together.
A loud voice filled the room. “Go, my children… together as one, heal the man… he is the new chosen one, and you are his servants… and you, woman, you have done well. You have taken care of my children. The old ‘chosen ones’. I had to leave them because the power of the ‘chosen one’ was split between them, so they were useless. But you took care of them, made sure they were in good health, and now, my babies, they are… ***together at last***.” | 2022-02-17T01:09:14 | 2022-02-16T23:40:39 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] We may not be the strongest, but our immune systems are legendary among alien races. There is a saying: "if it makes a human sick it will kill you." | The planet didn't look like much, still not even a Kardashev 1. But, it harbored one of the single greatest advancements in galactic medicine - humans.
The instructor purred into the loudspeaker, "we call it EARTH, a clever acronym made up by the boys in the lab that stands for Everything and Anything Relating to Threats to Health, which would be quite the mouthful on its own." Chuckles spread throughout the crowd of gathered MedOps students. The odd see-through projection hung in the air above their heads, showing a planet nearly unmarked by technological advancement.
"Most of you already know the risks posed to our society by the intermingling of species - diseases don't have the ability to wipe out a population anymore, they have the ability to wipe out dozens. We're not moving backwards anytime soon, so it was important we find a way to observe diseases in an isolated environment. We were lucky to find EARTH, because not only are its inhabitants not advanced enough to create the threat of spreading the infections, but their immune systems are the strongest we've seen in a near-Common lifeform. If you and a human are exposed to a pathogen at the same time and the human gets sick, you'll likely already be in rigor.
On top of being well suited in terms of advancement and bodily defenses, the humans make up one of the least cooperative societies we've seen... and that includes the avoid recommended regions of the far afield." Shock developed on the faces of the recruits as they processed this information. "While I'm sure this is a little unsettling to each of you, seeing as the last intra-species conflict near the Center was over a thousand centralutions ago, it is critical to understand. Because of this, there's little fear from the higher-ups that the humans will ever catch on to their role in the galaxy's safety. They would sooner blame another faction and eliminate it than consider the possibility of outside interference. In the few instances where a MedOp has been spotted while on assignment, the human observer wasn't believed or had their cognitive functions called into question. Even the faction infrastructures with multiple recorded sightings seem to keep them under wraps because they might be thought to be lying, or because fear would set back their advancement or cause further intra-species violence.
In short, the humans are not like anything you've ever encountered before. They do not think or behave, nor are they sentient in the way the rest of the galaxy is. If they see you, all but the smallest of them will fear you. If they fear you, they will try to kill you. Even removing a hazsuit near a human is a ticket to certain death, and that's not even considering all of the tools they possess that are meant solely to cause harm or death to others _like them_.
In short, be careful out there. Our work is dangerous, but protects the trillions of ~truly~ sentient beings who rely on the research we collect from this godsforsaken planet. In the grand scheme of things, the humans will never be more than a single planet species fighting over limited resources in an infinite universe. Our early attempts to lead them towards enlightenment through passing on information and assisting in building infrastructure failed because the factions never stop fighting. They destroyed collections of knowledge rivaling the Center's Alexan Library without a care. The humans refuse to take care of themselves, so they might as well help take care of the rest of us." | Glik rested and lay his swollen dome on the blankets Glak had folded and placed under him.
“Be at ease, beloved. I am here.” The words almost choked him to utter.
“I did not think, I never imagined...” Glik softly spoke as his eye fixed itself on the dimming violet sky overhead.
“Do not trouble yourself with explanations. It is enough that we are together.”
That Glak’s voice trailed off betrayed his true feelings.
“When I arrived, when I landed, they panicked and ran in fear...” Glik insisted.
“Glik, stay your voice.” Glak interrupted to no avail.
“...they were frightened, Glak. So I showed myself. I stood bare before them in peace to embrace them.”
Glik’s eye became cloudy and moisture appeared at its edge.
“I know.” Glak stated “ I know why you did it.”
“And some of them did, Glak, most of them fled but some of them kept their fears and embraced me. I did not think. I am afraid, Glak.” He welled with regret.
“I know.” Glak croaked as the swelling moisture began to run freely.
“I fear I’ve made a fatal error. And you came for me. And now my error is yours.” Glik wept.
Glak could only clasp feelers with Glik and accept the pouring liquids. The usual bond was still there but Glak could feel it’s fading.
Glik raised himself to meet Glak’s dome.
“Accept my bond, beloved.” His voice could hardly plead as he gently touched his dome to Glak’s.
“Accept...my bond.” Glak whispered in the familiar reply.
And there, embraced under the coming moons, sat Glik and Glak. Their domes resting against each other in eternal stillness. | 2021-02-03T18:49:59 | 2021-02-03T16:59:37 | 197 | 38 |
[WP] After raising a cat for 15 years he finally reveals to you that he can talk. He threatens to tell everyone your darkest secrets unless you meet his demands | "You really should have thought that through more." I bellowed as I chased my precious little kitty under the couch.
"15 years of me feeding you, bathing you, petting you and loving you and you decide to blackmail me? You may be a clever little cat but no paws can open these doors. I mean for Christ sake Skittles they've got circular handles."
"Please," he purred. "Please, don't hurt me more than you have."
"Hurt you? My feline friend I never hurt you but now, I'm going to destroy you. At 15 you're verging on death anyway, it's no skin off my back if I drown you in the tub."
I saw him dart from under the couch to the nearest table, lunging across the room I managed to scoop him up by his soft little belly. Instantly he began to claw, but I've seen it all before.
"You would consistently claw me as a kitten, I'm immune to this Skittles. All those times you were deathly afraid of me bathing you, now you actually have a reason." Dragging him up the stairs by the scruff of his neck I filled the bathroom sink with water. I didn't have time to fill the entire tub, I wanted this over with before the red mist settled.
"It's a shame death is forever Skittles, being the only talking cat in the world, it would have been interesting to know if there was a kitty heaven." He'd given up resisting by this point, accepting his fate. I put him under for a few seconds before I pulled him back up. "Why Skittles? We had such a nice life together, why did you have to threaten to tell my wife about the affairs, to tell my friends about all the horrible things I've said? What could I have ever possibly done to you?"
Skittles looked at me with what I can only describe as disbelief, "Seriously?" He meowed, "You cut my fucking dick off."
First attempt at a prompt, critique away. | "Good uck with that." "What you don't fear me." "you have no aposable thumbs, so you cant type, all the doors and windows are locked so you can't escape, not to mention all I have to make is one call and you are the worlds most intresting cat being probed for the rest of your life. Checkmate." | 2014-11-03T21:58:52 | 2014-11-03T18:31:35 | 49 | 10 |
[WP] There's a law when you divorce, the children from the undone marriage get killed
So only children from lasting marriages remain. | "Officer Edmund, reporting in. I've got the two children in my car, and the divorcees are on their way in the van". I glanced in my rear-view mirror to see two wide-eyed kids, not much older than my own son, staring blankly back at me. I hated this part of the job, this wasn't what I signed up for in Police Academy.
The compounds wire-mesh gates closed behind the car as I parked it at the station. Two more officers opened the back doors and led the children into the building, locking them in a holding cell. The little girl was crying, the boy just staring at the key as it turned in the lock.
I walked around to the main desk, just in time to see the parents sign the divorce papers and exit through opposite doors. Their lawyers shook hands, then followed their charges. The clerk picked up the divorce papers, looked briefly over them, and nodded to me. "It's all here", he said. "They are now divorced. You know what to do. I'll let the priest know right away."
I nodded my thanks and walked back to the holding cell. The little girl was still crying, and the little boy was holding her. He looked up as he saw me, fear in his eyes. Fear, but was that a bit of anger as well?
I opened the door and sat down next to them. "Son, I'm sorry. Your parents are divorced. Do you know what that means?"
"It means we have to... to die", he said quietly. "Will we get to say goodbye to them?"
"I'm sorry, but they have already left."
At this, tears sprang into his eyes. "Why don't they love each other? What did I do wrong?"
"Nothing. You did nothing wrong. Sometimes people just... well, things just don't work out. People change. When you are older you will understand."
The boy looked up as I said that, and I could see real anger now. "But we won't grow up! Not now!" He spat at me.
And this is why I joined the police all those years ago. It was for moments like this. I reached over and flipped a catch next to the bench we sat on, pushing a section of the wall out and revealing a small tunnel. A tunnel just big enough for children. "You will grow up, son. Now take care of your sister and get out of here. Look for a priest at the other end, he will take you to your new home." | My name is David, David Halligan. You might know me from H&H Attorney at law. We typically run late night infomercials on sleezy networks that convince people to get a divorce. I'm the good-looking, charming guy that smiles into the camera and give a little wink, yea...
I'm a divorce chaser. What that means is I convince people to get divorces anyway possible. I got several guys who work as private investigators and let's just say they don't always tell the truth. I cut them in at 25%. Other times I convince people who are a little sick in the head. Maybe they want to see someone die, or maybe they wanted to do it themselves, I don't know. It doesn't matter to me, I'm just a lawyer.
I have a very expensive mahogany desk in my office. It was imported from France. It has notches in it and in each notch represents a kid whose execution was the direct result of my law firm. The last count was 546. I'm very good at my job as you can tell...
| 2014-06-15T04:00:46 | 2014-06-15T03:57:43 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] You chant "Bloody Mary" three times in your car's side view mirror and then hit the gas laughing all the while as she sprints towards your car desperately trying to keep up.
Edit: Optional inclusion, it's the eighth time you done this. | "What is she doing?" I asked myself in the mirror. I had sped away about four times, giggling as she trotted behind me, totally unable to keep up. Every time she looked a little more tired. Now Bloody Mary was in a fetal position on the side of the deserted highway. I felt a pang of guilt. I grabbed my emergency kit from the glove box, turned the ignition off and started walking toward her.
"What do you want?" I heard her ask through the sobs.
"Is everything ok?" I asked, clutching the kit closer to my chest. Sure, I trusted the contents to protect me from the evil sitting there bawling her eyes out but my mind was still reeling.
"Is everything ok, he asks!" she said and began crying more loudly, "It's fine, Albert, it's fine."
"H-how do you know my name?" I asked her, genuinely curious. Her voice sounded rather ordinary. Sure her very visage was horrific, blood dripping from every orifice and I do mean EVERY orifice. Yuck. Surprisingly, this close she smelled of lilacs. That was interesting.
"It's part of my curse, you big dummy," Bloody Mary said, "For four hundred years I've had to appear and drag people off to Hell. Knowing their name is part of the dark magic that binds me here. Basic Demonology 101. Don't they teach that in school anymore? No wonder the U.S. ranks so low in education these days."
"So. Why are you crying?" I asked.
"Why am I crying?" She looked up and my heart skipped a beat, she was kind of pretty under all that blood. Her eyes were an enchanting red. Well, everything was red but a good red, ya know? "I am crying because you summoned me, used that accursed contraption to leave me behind, all the while laughing at me. Did you think that would brighten my old day there, Albert? Eh?"
"I mean you're a demon," I said defensively, "You drag people to Hell. You've admitted that."
"I'm not technically a demon, I just work with them. I only drag them to the surface layers of Hell," she shrugged, "Is it my fault some stupid teenage girl can't find her way out after summoning me at a slumber party on a dare? How hard can it be to escape from Hell?"
"Incredibly," I said, hugging my bag filled with rabbits feet, four and five leave clovers, blessed holy symbols, and magical symbols from every religion, creed, and historical era.
"Thanks, Albert," she said, starting to sob louder, "Now you've really made me feel great about myself. As if being all bloody isn't bad enough."
"Sorry," I said, actually meaning it, "I didn't mean to upset you. What can I do to make it up to you?"
"Can I drag you to Hell?" she said, smiling through her tears.
"No." I said, smiling back briefly.
"Well, darn." she used her cursed dress to wipe the tears away and stood up, "None of that works you know. I'm the victim of a Class 1 curse, those are only good for Class 3 or lower."
"Shit," I said but still clutched them in case she were lying, "I did apologize."
"Indeed you did, Albert," she walked up to me and suddenly seemed unsure of what to do, "I haven't, you know, really talked to anyone in three hundred years. Unless you count talking as them screaming incoherently as I drag them to... well, you know."
"I know, Mary," and when I said her name without the Bloody to preface it she actually smiled, "So what now?"
"Want to help me drag someone to Hell?" she asked hopefully, "There's a teenage girl in Idaho in front a mirror right now. It's kind of fun."
"Sure," I said, hoping for the best as I took her hand, "Why not?" | The Bloody Mary Games are, well, controversial.
They’re kinda like the Olympics, but everyone outruns Bloody Mary in a different way. Me? Well, I was a race car driver, so when these competitions popped up, I was *in.* This year’s games are two weeks away, so I’m training. No fancy racetrack though, no crew making sure I’m doing everything right. Just an empty parking lot in a sleepy town. I do this twice a week and each time it makes me feel more and more alive.
She *hates* me. I can tell. Whenever she appears, she’s gritting her teeth and clenching her fists—it’s because I’ve won six gold medals and she’s never even come close to catching me. That anger, it fuels her. People say this is cruel, say that even though she’s a murderous ghosts she should have rights. I don’t think they’d agree if they saw the way she looks at me.
The car I’m in’s a hunk of junk, which I love. Why would I train in what I’m going to drive in? That’s too easy. No, I gotta make sure I can outrun her in even the slowest cars. Beating everyone else? That’s easy. Six years I’ve won, six years I’ve entered the race and been the only survivor.
“Bloody Mary,” I mumble, peering into my rear-view mirror. “Bloody Mary.”
There’s a small flash of light, just a red flicker. She’s about to appear. I bet she’s standing on the other side, burning in the crisp fires of Hell or something, and eagerly waiting. I can’t help but smirk.
“*Bloody Mary!*”
She appears, soaked in blood and screeching. She must’ve just finished killing some other poor sap. Immediately I gun it, slamming my foot on the car and laughing as I take off. She frantically runs away me, waving her arms, as I chuckle like a madman. To see something so feared and powerful act so…pitiful. It’s almost hilarious.
I speed out of the parking lot as she stops, glaring at me. I’m gonna win the games this year, I know it—I just wish she would *almost* catch me sometime. That would make this much more exciting.
***
If you like this story, check out my sub /r/LonghandWriter or my twitter [@BryceBealWriter](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter) | 2018-10-01T12:01:02 | 2018-10-01T10:32:10 | 5,296 | 531 |
[WP] You have drunkenly been discussing the Dark Lord with other tavern patrons, insulting him to no end. When someone storms up demanding you stop as he is one of the Dark Lords students. Strange thing is you don’t remember teaching this kid. | Her eyes were like rubies ablaze.
"Stop insulting the Dark Lord," she said from beneath a black hood, "or I'll make sure you'll never speak again."
Spunky. He liked it.
"Oh yeah?" the Dark Lord teased. "How are you gonna do that? I bet you've never even met the guy."
The girl brought her hood down, revealing hair as fiery as her eyes. "Maybe now you'll reconsider your actions."
He burst into laughter. What was she doing?
"Am I supposed to be impressed? No, wait. Intimidated? Now I'm positive you've never met the Dark Lord. He wouldn't take in somebody as young as you. Do you even have a wand, girl?"
Then, his curiosity was piqued, as the girl pulled out a coffee colored piece of wood.
"I'll give you one last chance," she warned. "I've been studying under him for months now. I can suture your mouth shut or burn your lips together. Take back what you've said against the Lord."
The Dark Lord, interested to see if she really could do those things, a girl so young, decided to test her.
"The Dark Lord," he began, "is a hack. A troll. He is nothing more than a con-artist. He can't even cast spells, that's why he has all his little followers do his work for him. He hides away in a cave, like a scared baby bear, afraid of society. In fact, I've heard the tale of a woman who once saw him. She found him so ugly she---"
The sound of a zipper traveled through the air. It lilted and drifted aimlessly until it landed upon his lips.
"I warned you," the fiery girl said with a sigh. "Don't leave the tavern, I'll remove the seal in an hour. During that time I want you to think about your actions."
Wow! Amazing! Incredible! Awesome!
How could she do that? So young! So powerful! The Dark Lord smiled as the girl put her hood back on and marched away. Of course, her magic wasn't strong enough to truly stop him from talking, but still, he could feel it on him, the raw and unrefined potential.
Either whoever was training this girl was very good, or, more likely, the girl herself was very special. Thousands of wizards pretended to be the Dark Lord to gather a following, but this was the first time one of those followers showed promise.
An hour passed and the girl returned. The Dark Lord watched as she approached, and then he let out a giant, toothy grin. The girl realized what she was seeing; her magic had been dispelled.
One last test.
Without a wand, without an incantation, without any mana, the Dark Lord cast that same Silence spell on the girl. The entire tavern watched as the spell drifted in the air unpredictably, like a falling leaf. Nobody knew when it would strike, when it would escape from its ennui and finally latch onto the girl. Only the caster had that knowledge.
Or, at least, that was supposed to be the case. As soon at the spell gained conviction and charged towards the girl she stepped aside, letting it just graze her cheek. It slammed into the ceiling and some dust shook down.
She passed. Wow! So young, and can already sense the magical intentions of a spell. He was not going to let this get away from him.
He stood up from his seat, and with all of the tavern's eyes on him he wiped away the fake face he had on.
Chaos erupted.
People knocked over chairs in a frenzy to the exit, women screamed their heads off, and the barkeep reached under the counter for his staff. Everyone was going crazy except the redhead girl standing in front of him, stars in her eyes like she had just met Santa.
But it was too loud. He could barely hear his own thoughts.
So, the Dark Lord held a finger to his mouth. Shhh. Suddenly all the screaming stopped and all the people froze in place. Chairs, sideways and in the air, were suspended there. On the tip of the barkeep's staff a fireball was starting to form; it just kept swirling in place, never fully actualizing. A waterfall of beer was flowing out of a tipped mug, never reaching the ground. Nothing in the tavern could move unless he wanted it to.
And then, the girl took a step forward.
He held out his hand.
"What's your name, girl?"
"Amber. Just Amber, never got a family name."
A perfect name for a girl so red.
"Well, Amber," he said, taking her hand in his, "you can stop going to that fake Dark Lord you've been training under. From now on you are my pupil. You're going to become something you've never dreamed of, I promise you."
Tears swelled in her eyes and she couldn't talk, just nodded. He had never seen such pure happiness before. Amber wrapped her arms around him and gave him his first hug.
And, for a brief moment in time, just half a second, the Dark Lord became one shade lighter. | I had read the poetry from the fair islands, learned from the philosophers who gathered at the center of the world, and studied the opinions of the great desert jurists. I enrolled in every school of the arcane that would take me, and traded ideas with every ascetic of every mountain cave.
And I loved it. I loved knowledge like breath or food or the cool, clear, pure water from the mouth of a spring. As much as life itself, for what else was there but knowledge?
But I was troubled. In my travels, I had come to know the ways and whims and hows and whys of the actions of men, how countries fell and grew and fell again, a great cycle, like the lifetimes of each man who would lead. Infancy, adolescence, maturity, senescence, and death. No great plan could materialize if it took even a moment longer than the lifetime of the dynasty tasked to observe it.
So, I figured, I would observe it. An eternal dynasty of one man, constantly overthrowing itself.
Living forever was easy enough, though I didn't much care for it. Those who had struggled long with foul, black magicks towards it never stopped to consider that the real power was in the kindness of strangers, but that's a diatribe for another day.
Then came the shifting of physical form. I thought it would be far harder than it turned out to be, but cursory investigation revealed that a simple change of clothes was enough. Ooh, but some of the scholars at the great western schools have been doing some really fascinating work in the field, I must send some letters to them, and ask for a manuscript of their recent work.
From there was just about patience. I claimed I was a prince from a far off land, and gathered some supporters and followers. Over time, I wore more and more clothes, bent over further and further, before stripping the disguise off and calling myself my own son. How could my power and control fail to grow, when I had a mastery of the arcane at my command, and knew the hearts of men?
But I knew the hearts of men. When I was my own great grandchild, I became greedy, and dressed in black, and made great shows of torturing subjects and my own lavish quarters. At night I would slink off, dressed in the plain clothes that I considered truly mine, and foment my people's hatred of myself.
An acolyte of myself would be sent by myself to intercept myself at myself's orders without knowing who I was. Maybe I'd insult my greed, or my torturous behavior, or simply my inability to satisfy the wife I had never actually taken. My acolyte, not knowing who I was, would attempt to kill my at my own orders. I'd pretend to die, cursing myself with my last breath, and slink away when nobody looked anymore.
Abuses would mount, people would get angry, I'd cloak myself in shining raiment, lead them to overthrow the cowardly dark lord who had clearly since escaped, and bring another age of prosperity for a few generations, before doing it all again.
Yes, a little torture was involved, but it was a small price to pay for keeping the great learning houses funded, where each tome of uncovered knowledge represented a permanent step forward for mankind.
I had read the poetry from the fair islands, learned from the philosophers who gathered at the center of the world, and studied the opinions of the great desert jurists. I enrolled in every school of the arcane that would take me, and traded ideas with every ascetic of every mountain cave. And I would overcome a death greater than what afflicted the body before I saw them forgotten. | 2022-01-14T15:36:02 | 2022-01-14T13:44:48 | 713 | 234 |
[WP]: every human being is born with a birthmark signifying a great deed they are fated do in their lives. Your first child has just been born, with the mark of a murderer across her face | Miraculous, is what they always called it. It was true; she was a miracle, our darling, our baby girl. She was going to be the starting point of a new chapter of our lives: parenthood.
But would you call a murderer a miracle? Everyone saw it, that dark hideous mark on her face. Nobody explicitely pointed it out, but we all knew what it was. In most polite conversations, they called it the mark of Cain.
As parents, we tried our best to give her a stable, normal life. After all, murderers were slaves of emotions, the result of abusive households. That wasn't going to be the case for our daughter. She was a miracle, murderer or not.
Hell, to comfort ourselves, we researched all famous bearers of the mark of Cain. Most of them were decorated in war, where contextually the bloody act was considered heroic. Perhaps she would become a soldier. That was the best we could hope for.
Every time she screamed in anger, every time she was upset at someone, we quickly told her that was not very nice of her. We told her that she should treat everyone equally, treat them as she treated herself.
Childhood passed without an incident. We were relieved, probably more than other parents of children her age. Our child never tried to slice up animals, and neither did she become overly violent. We were confident that we could pull through.
We were so focused on her that we forgot other children grew up too. And what monsters they became; as soon as the children learned what the markings on their bodies meant, they started avoiding our baby girl. I still remember her face when she came back from school the day they learned about the marks. As soon as her teacher started talking about the mark of Cain, everyone stared at her.
She didn't seem too upset, and although we tried our best to tell her that that was just how she was born, that no matter what, we would love her, and she told us it was okay, that she understood. We didn't push it further. We didn't want her to get anxious.
But I swore I could hear the faint sobs of a little girl that night.
The more she grew up, the more the people around her avoided her. She was a ticking time bomb, she was an accident waiting to happen, she was just too dangerous... We heard it all, from everyone. Not even the adults around her seemed to know how to approach her. She could not avoid the scrutiny; how could she, when the mark was plain on her face? Our miracle child grew lonelier by the day, and although it ripped our hearts apart, she told us it was okay. That she understood.
One day, when I returned from work, I found out she was missing, that she didn't come back home from school. When we turned on the TV, we found out there was a manhunt for a murderer. Our hearts sank. A student was found dead in her high school.
The doorbell rang, and when we went, we found our daughter, covered in blood.
"I'm sorry. B-but that boy... He kept shouting at me, telling me I should die before I k-kill anyone, and then he grabbed me and I--"
We pulled her in for a hug. We were crying, telling her that were so worried, but she pulled back with tears in her eyes. She had the eyes of a hopeful child.
"I just wanted to get it over with... I-I've done it now, right? Fulfilled this mark?"
We didn't know.
At that moment, we heard the police sirens surround our house. | I remember when the doctors gave her to me, they were wide-eyed and speechless. The baby girl was perfectly healthy, as beautiful as a child could be, but then I saw the mark curling up her face. God, no, why this? I thought. Why couldn't she be marked to help humanity like so many others? Physicians, priests, architects, politicians, these people were fated, by the mark, to do these great deeds. But upon the face of my child was the black, twisting stain of a Murderer.
But it was my child. It was advised to dispose of her, of course. I would do nothing of the sort. All her life, I raised her in a loving home, and protected her from those who would see her burn. She was a darling child who never slighted anyone. Although the birthmark was a blight, she had the smile of cherub. As she grew, I dismissed her fate as superstition. My girl would never be a murderer, I declared.
Now I see the barrels of five rifles pointing at me. I'm tied to a stake and a sergeant has his arm extended. The soldiers have red sashes
on their arms, as does the warden and his officials, each with a twisting mark on it, same as the woman in that portrait hanging above the gate. It's large and the frame is embroidered, it depicts a woman with vacant eyes and strong features, uniformed, her mouth in a tight frown, and that stain on her face.
I'm not her first victim, and I'm not her last. When she took power, every person with a mark that was deemed a threat to her regime was rounded up here and shot. So many fates snuffed out. But hers was realized. When I looked down at her as an infant, I didn't see the first great mass murderer of this century. I only saw my daughter. The sergeant yells to fire. | 2014-05-10T23:37:12 | 2014-05-10T23:14:54 | 466 | 187 |
[WP] One day a time portal opens in your backyard and a time traveler comes through. You quickly realize he just came back from making some change to the past and that, to him, our world is the terrifying alternative time line resulting from that change. | "Alright, let's start again..." Philip said, his hand covering his eyes. "What is the year?"
James set down the cup of tea in front of the mysterious, confused man. "2015."
"And what happened at 0? Or 1? Whatever."
"Um..." James considered, "Think it was supposed to be around the birth of Christ."
"Alright, that would be that Roman guy, right?"
"...basically."
Philip considered the options, and shook his head, "Alright, this is not helping. Let's go further back a bit. When were the pyramids built in this... AD/BC time frame?"
"The ones in Giza?"
"Yes, those."
James grabbed his iPad, and called up Google. "Um... looks like somewhere around 2500 BC."
"So, if BC is negative..." a brief pause, "4500 years before now?"
"Um... yeah, I think that's about right."
The man eyed James' iPad. "I am when I am supposed to be, but you have got tech that's a few centuries out of date. Does everyone have those sorts of things?"
"A lot of them do, yeah..."
"Does that thing have a map?"
After a lot of zooming out, and very confused looks at the names of the places around the world, the man sat back. "So I'm in the right place, too... What went wrong?"
"So you're from... now?"
"Our point in the present is the same, but we're from different timelines. I was born in... well, it would be 1986 by your reckoning, but from a town off the coast of..." he glanced at the map still on the iPad, "England that, apparently, never existed... I know, tenses are weird."
"Wait, off the coast?"
"Yes, a floating city."
James just stared at the man. "Normally, I'd think you're crazy, but you appeared in the air above my backyard right in front of my eyes, and set the arm you broke with something from that pouch on your belt... how is that, by the way?"
The man rolled his arm. "It's setting nicely, thank you."
"Anyway, I'm willing to suspend disbelief after what I've seen."
"I need to know what went wrong. The world is not supposed to be like..." he motioned around, "this."
"You went back in time?"
"Yes, that is right. I was doing some research in the past, and I tried to come back to my lab, and ended up in your back yard."
"So just researching?"
"Yes."
"You weren't going back in time to... I don't know, kill Hitler or something?"
"Who?"
A heavy silence filled the kitchen, and was all the answer the man needed.
"He was a very bad person in this timeline, wasn't he?"
James just nodded, and glanced at a picture of an elderly couple on the counter.
"Alright... do you have access to history on that thing?"
"Yeah..." James called up Wikipedia.
"I was in Europe, about 1700 years ago. I need to know what I did to change history..."
------------
Philip leaned back in his chair, and sighed. On the iPad sat the article for the Dark Ages.
"You're telling me you think you caused the Dark Ages?"
Philip nodded, still in shock. "The Roman Empire never fell in my history. I was studying the middle of their empire... and I must have done something that led to its collapse, plunging the entire area into a regressive age..."
There was some more silence. "What are you going to do?"
Philip looked at the device on his arm. "I must to go back and fix it. I must try and turn things right..."
"What about me?"
They looked at each other. "I do not know... If I succeed, then... you may not exist anymore. Or you might... split timelines like this might be strong enough to continue on their own. I really do not know."
James sat back, considering. "In your timeline, you've got... what, fifteen hundred years of scientific advancement instead of five to ten hundred in ours?"
Philip nodded.
"And in your home, your world, you've got cool gadgets like time machines, and wraps that can fix broken bones in minutes..."
"Among other things, yes."
James glanced at the picture on the counter again.
"Will I know if you succeeded?"
"I do not know."
There was another silence.
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
"I believe you have done everything you can," Philip got up, and checked the device on his wrist. "This still has about 60% charge remaining. I should have a few tries at righting my wrong."
James looked like he wanted to say something, but stopped himself. "Good luck."
"Thank you," Philip stepped outside, and started pressing buttons. "I would suggest stepping back."
James watched as Philip was enveloped in a white light, and vanished. | I looked up from my temporary serenity of spreading almond butter on a slice of multi-grain, with the Grateful Dead guiding my thoughts. I brushed the lone dreadlock off of my forehead.
It didn't immediately catch my attention through the visual plethora of artistic stained-glass wind chimes and rusty yard sculptures rotating listlessly in the breeze. My view through the dusty window screen clarified just a bit despite my temporal haze from my recent indulgence in a few drops from a tincture. It was as if the world was resolving to me in frames, and I could sense my consciousness processing the information, like how a computer renders a video game.
I eventually realized the distortion shouldn't be there, hanging in the air like that. But eventually to me was mere seconds. My body followed my thoughts out the door. Before I knew it, I was staring blankly at the apparition. It was moving everywhere, like ripples in static. If you stared long enough, it looked human. Or wait. No, that's actual time passing, and it's becoming human.
It is a human.
I shook my head and the world silently buzzed around me. He was still standing there, staring at me.
"What...who..." I started.
"I had to do it," He begain, in some sort of accent that I couldn't place, "and it was much easier than I ever thought. But it had to be done. I had to kill him, but no one knew who he was, so I had to kill them all..."
The stranger buried his head in his hands and convulsed in a full-body sob as the full weight of the entirety of his action came upon him at last. He looked kind of familiar, but I could feel my mind still processing his face. He wore a plain gray suit and black tie, and smelled like ozone. Or maybe that was just the air, the part that didn't smell like a cigar.
Then something out of time reached me full in the face, like a mental punch. "Kill? Who did you kill...?"
"You don't know who I am?" His face contorted into surprise. "I thought..." he stammered, "I thought everyone would know who I am..." He looked away, distant. Then he was looking at me again, into my eyes.
Recognition poured over both of us at once.
I was embarrassed and scared for my life all at the same time. I knew this guy, and he now knew that I knew, I could see it on his face. I knew it was a stupid feeling as soon as I felt it, especially for him. But when I know someone knows that I'm under the influence, I just get very self-conscious.
There were words coming out of his mouth, and I had to direct my mind at them to understand. "...he would have killed you, you know. This whole place, the whole world, almost. Everything was gone where I am from. So much death..."
I interrupted him, "You want to talk about death after what you did? Holy shit, man, you're one to talk..."
And he cut me off with, "I saved the world."
He was pissing me off. Maybe it was that fucking mustache.
"But, man, you're literally Hitler." | 2015-11-13T15:49:03 | 2015-11-13T12:37:44 | 174 | 94 |
[WP] You are on a flight from Beijing to Seoul. Its should be a short two-hour flight, but five hours have passed and the plane has still not landed. There is nothing outside but dense cloud cover. There is no food left on the plane.The staff are confused. People are starting to panic. | Groggy, face pressed against the edge of the window, hair in my ears and mouth, I peer through the veil. Cherry red and gold stain the cream polyester of the seat in front. Acoustic whining is still bleeding through my ear buds. As definition returns to the modern patterns and laid\-back tempo, I brush aside my leave\-me\-alone defences and slowly stretch out.
That can’t have just been a half hour nap, we were already half way to Seoul last time I checked, and I feel far more rested than I have in a few weeks.
The Nanjing lady next to me noticed my movements; but gone were her friendly smiles from take\-off. Instead, all I got was an exasperated “*Aiyah, ni zenme hai zai shuijiao?*” I felt bad for having not told her before that I could understand Mandarin, otherwise I think she would have chosen some less direct words with her broken, distant auntie Chinglish.
“What’s going on?”
“Silly girl, how did you sleep for four hours and not see what’s wrong?”
I slumped back into my chair. “See that what is wrong?”
“Look outside!”
There was nothing outside. It was just a few different shades of boring.
“There’s nothing outside…”
I pulled out one of my earphones as I turned back to her, and things got a little more confusing. There was a lot more chatter going on then what I would expect for a short flight like this. I looked up over my seat to see huddles of strangers focusing intensely on their discussions. Korean filtered in with the Chinese so much that I couldn’t make any of the latter out. But a distinct British voice cut through: “Did they refuel before we boarded?”
Evidently I had slept for a bit more than originally anticipated. I turned back to my exasperated southern friend to see no bemusement in my lack of awareness.
“Exactly! Nothing! Over three hours now, and still just clouds.”
“Three hours? Seoul is only two hours away.”
“Aiyah! Listen, stupid girl. We left Beijing 9 in the morning, yes? It’s now 2 o’clock, and those girls know less than you do!”
An unfortunate stewardess happened to pass her accusing gesture at that moment but paid little attention to the insult. It probably saved her from falling to her face as the fuselage suddenly tilted forward, warranting a few screams from its occupants.
The pitch forward was only by a degree or two, but it was enough of a start to raise many newfound concerns and opinions. And movement from one.
The cockpit door had remained closed all this time, and yet it was still with some surprise that the handle didn’t budge in my hand. Perhaps bolstered by my deciding to be the first to move, two young men gently moved me aside as they began to charge and then kick at the door, demanding entry. They must have practised beforehand because there now was an entrance, and I followed in behind them.
Two seats for the pilots. Both with the same stain as the passenger chairs, but with no gold. There is a message flashing from every available screen, our faces now awash with cyan fear: “Seoul has fallen”. | I'm scared, but more confused. I woke up in a daze, people murmuring questions around me not in a panic but discontent. The flight attendants all huddled towards the front, but I don't understand a thing they say. I'm on a business trip, flying from Beijing to Seoul; a flight that would normally last a matter of two hours, but something is off. I look to my left, the window shut and covered with it's plastic slide, yet opening helps me none, as I see nothing but clouds. Nothing comes from the cockpit. No sound of a captain cheerily informing us of turbulence, yet the silence was louder than he could have ever been. The clouds slowly grew darker as time went on, and the murmuring grew louder; a mire of discontent and fear only worsened by language barriers. Even though they were clueless to their circumstances, the flight attendants did what they could to calm the rowdier passengers down, scared of some type of emergency as they were. I looked at my watch and saw that 4 hours had passed. It didn't seem possible. If I listened hard enough over the cacophony of discontent voices I could almost hear another noise from outside of the plane. Something... unfamiliar. A noise I couldn't compare to any I had ever heard. The smell of sweat was heavy in the air, perpetrated by the panic of people uncomfortable and worried. I gripped the armrest of my seat, feeling the cold metal and assuring myself that everything was fine, for how could anything happen in such an impressive vehicle?
The seatbelt light flickered on. | 2018-06-02T05:54:24 | 2018-06-02T05:32:28 | 120 | 13 |
[WP] Every time someone masturbates to you, you receive a notification on your phone letting you know who did it.
[Inspired by this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/3gzuq0/nsfw_how_would_it_be_to_live_in_a_universe_where/)
Edit: THE ONE TIME I DONT POST ON MY MAIN, THIS SHIT HITS THE PAGE 1. FOR FUCKS SAKE.
On another note, I finally understand what "rip inbox" means. | "... And that's when I finally decided to tell Amber how I feel about her, but she just stared at me as if she had seen a ghost. I didn't even know that was, like, an actual face humans could make."
The only way to properly express the embarrassment I felt as I told Rick of my failure to conquer The Amber Rose was to bury my face into whatever world lies on the other side of tables that people so frequently visit.
"Hahahahahahaahaa; Oh god... So, what happened next? Does it get better or worse?"
"Definitely worse. I thought she would at least say something, anything. A simple fuck you or a slap to the face would have sufficed, but she just straight up did a one-eighty and high-tailed it out of the bar. Who the hell just leaves a bar, without finishing their drink, ON KARAOKE NIGHT?! It's all over, Rick. This was my last chance to go where no man has gone before, but alas I must wallow in my own self pity for the rest of my days..."
"Alright dude, so, this is how it's going to go down. You're going to get up and drain the main vein. While you're in the bathroom, I'm going to get us two more Jaeger Bombs, and we are going to pretend that this super bitch never existed. Then, we are going to pretend that you're Captain Ahab and you're going to end the night by spearing that white whale that has no business being on that dance floor. NOW HOP TO IT, SKIPPER!"
Rick was right, I did need to go to the bathroom. He had an innate ability to say all the right things at all the right moments. I'm so glad I was able to find a friend as good as him to get me through college. What a bro.
As I waited in line to alleviate myself a pressure equivalent of that which Lebron felt during the 2014 NBA playoffs, I decided that it would be a good time to continue professing my love to Amber:
"My dearest Amber, bearer of The Amber Rose, I would like to express to you my regrets regarding the distasteful ending to our eloquent conversation this magni...."
That's when I saw it; a text message from Amber. Wtf? Why would Amber send me a message... "The Department of Information Transparency would like to inform you that Amber Jenkins of Rochester, New York has been pleasuring herself to the thought of finally having a man (you) in her life that doesn't refer to her vagina as The Amber Rose. Please feel free to contact her at this number anytime."
Hell yeah. I'm totally sending her a dick pic.
Fin. | I browsed the app store, looking for something interesting or fun to do in my free time, Temple Run just gets boring after a few weeks. Scrolling past the Baby Goes To The Dentist and Barbie Gives Birth, I found a weird app, It was called FapApp and since the power of boners are stronger than the human mind, I clicked on it. I didn't expect much out of it, thinking it was either spam or a virus so I read the reviews, "10/10 THIS APP WORKS! My girlfriend's phone is getting blown up almost everyday!" and "My friends know I'm gay now, It works though" I was appalled by the hundreds of different people reviewing this app and saying It works. Needless to say **I had to have it.** After I downloaded it, I waited for about forty-five minutes for a notification to pop up, nothing happened. "I knew this was fake, waste of my goddamn time" I said as I was about to uninstall it. Right before my finger clicked the uninstall button, I got a notification saying someone masturbated to me, Excited I went and checked to see who it was...
*Grandma* | 2015-08-14T16:46:04 | 2015-08-14T16:42:52 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] After been missing for 12 years, the duke's daughter (now 16) is sent to the royal accademy and immediately targeted by bullies. What the bullies don't know is that the lady spent those 12 years with a clan of orks
If you get why orks is spelled like that... good.
If you don't, it doesn't matter | Stella's hands were wet, and they were warm. She flexed them, and felt something filmy that encrusted the knuckle joints peel and break.
She felt dizzy.
A faint recollection washed through her head. Someone had been speaking to her. Loudly. Unpleasantly. Hostile. Her father had taught her that word.
"Your choice of language defines you as a lady, Stella," he had said.
Her father's voice was warm. Not like the other voice. That one was cold and bitter, covered in sharp edges.
She dimly remembered anger. Remembered a swirl of hot bile circulating in the pit of her gut.
Now there were multiple voices, all of them as cruel aa the first. Louder, more insistent.
Then nothing but the great outside, stars splashing the ceiling as birds wailed among the trees. A fire crackled.
She had looked, and seen her Other Family around her. The ones with the olive-green skin. With two great tusks protruding from their lower jaw. They looked as hale and healthy as the day they had died to a shower of whistling arrows.
She had seen her Other Father, whose voice was rougher and more gravelly than her Now Father, but comforting to hear all the same.
She saw her Other Brother, and he smiled back.
"Come back to us at last, haven't you?"
Then one by one her Other Family surged forward to welcome her.
"I knew the humans weren't right for you."
"I missed you."
"I was right. You were definitely green inside."
Her Other Father spoke, and the rest fell silent.
"The Rage has brought my daughter back to me."
Yes. The Rage. The small mushroom that her Other Father had pushed down her throat when she was seven moons old. It tasted caustic, like the tang of ruptured bowels.
"The Rage," he said, "is our strength. It is within you now, and should you wish it it will come forth to do your bidding. But you would do well to use it with discretion. The Rage is an arrogant ally, and it would sooner be the master than the servant."
Once her Other Father had spoken, Stella had feasted with her Other Family. Tearing into great chunks of charred meat, picking out the edible bits from piles of offal, snapping bones and worrying away the sweet marrow within.
Then it had all vanished, leaving her standing on this marble floor, her hands warm and wet.
Stella looked. A coppery smell invaded her nose, and something primal within her snarled in disgust.
Her hands were red, bright red, as red as her Other Family was green. | ''As orkish rule states,'' She said, taking out a large knife from her backpack, ''you have insulted me. As such you have violated the rules of this establishment, that means I am entitled to either a blood price or a monetary price of the same value.''
''Blood price? What's that supposed to be?'' The bully foolishly asked.
''Allow me to demonstrate.'' the Princess answered. She took her knife and grabbed the bully's hand, slicing it open slightly. ''As I said, a blood price is the amount of blood I will spill from your body as I deem enough to repay your debt to me. For an insult, it's not that much.'' She sealed the wound quickly, all the while keeping the bully's hand in her vice grip, the orks had thought her well after all. ''For more serious offences however,'' she continued, letting go of the hand.'' Well let's just say it depends on how long you can live without blood.'' | 2022-07-16T02:33:28 | 2022-07-16T02:32:48 | 48 | 25 |
[WP]Well, that's a pretty fucked up way to find out you are immortal. | I was immortal.
Yes, you heard me right, I’m immortal. As in, don’t age, don’t die, look the same as I did two hundred years ago, basically, like _Edward Cullen_ from the horrible franchise that was _Twilight_.
Except I’m no disco ball, nor a vampire. Really, the only thing I have in common with him apart from the immortal thing is the fact that I was a freak of nature.
See, I don’t live in a fantasy world. No flying cars, super powers, gods or genetically engineered spiders here. It’s a simple world.
Born > grow > school > degree > job > retire > die.
Or so it goes, anyway, for most people. But see, I never really got the linking factor of all those things- _growing_.
Well, I did, technically. I’m not a baby running around spitting out limericks and requiring a stool because I’m so small. I did age, to some degree. To about twenty three or twenty four. Then I stopped.
Now, we joked it was good genes. My parents looked fairly good for their age, and I didn’t seem abnormal. Still had my period, still ate and drank and slept, hell, I had kids.
I just never changed. Everybody else grew old. My parents turned to dust. My partner, bless his heart, aged gracefully, but even I could see the wrinkles forming on his face, the grey hairs adorning his beard. Wrinkles I never got, grey hairs I never got.
My kids grew up, from babies to teens to adults to elders, my partner died and it was just… devastating to watch. Contrary to movies, I never fled upon realising my unageing status. Questions were asked at first but.. well, it’s amazing what hair dye and makeup can do. Even then it was less I was ashamed and more the unexplainable questions were getting on my nerves.
I, my husband, and my kids, we all hoped it was just a visual thing. Some rare, undiscovered condition where I just _visually_ looked like I hadn’t aged, but my body did. And I was in denial for many many years.
It took my eldest child, Lucien, dying that I finally realised that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t ageing. That I had to face the denial I’d been living in for years now. My family all dropped dead around me, their children had children, and so on so forth.
Everybody I ever loved died, to the point where I found myself becoming apathetic to their existence, because what was the point if they would just die in ninety years, _if I was lucky._
I wanted to be dead. I’d lived several life times. I was tired of watching people die, of loving only to lose in the end. But in the end, I was unwanted even by death, and I was stuck, unable to have my greatest wish.
I couldn’t live, couldn’t die, I was just tormented and hurt, in limbo. Tortured like I was the worst of the worst, hurt again and again and _agai-_
Who wants to live forever, they ask?
Not me. | It does not matter how many times it whispers to you, you are still afraid. Its hands are tucked into the stark white and egg cream of folded wings, as if this might alleviate some tension. It is impossible to perceive in whole, only in pieces. Shimmering gold tips and endless, brilliant, unblinking eyes, bordered by thick black ink and painted rogue. It is covered in soft colors and sharp lines, and your mind is doing something beyond fathom inside your head. You fall to your knees, desperate for absolution, face pressing into the searing skin of your folded forearms.
“Please rise. Do not prostrate yourself before me. I am but a messenger.”
It projects with a voice that rattles and soothes your head in tandem, and your body jerks upward in compliance. Thick clouds of cotton white cloud your vision. You briefly consider the modesty of angels. How does a formless being bow to their king?
“Listen carefully, young one. You will never grow old. You will live forever. You will see the approaching storm of Armageddon, and you will stand among the wreckage. You are a messenger, just as I am.”
You are rigid. Your trachea is a thick, solid piece of something. A rotted-out oak tree that no longer speaks, only echoes back what it is told in reverence. You finally manage a whimper, fingers sliding up to rest tentatively on the taut skin of your throat. It is okay to go slow. You have all the time in the world. | 2022-05-05T10:14:45 | 2022-05-05T08:52:56 | 32 | 23 |
[WP] At age 15 you told the gf you were "in love" with that you'd always be there when she was in need. Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality, whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side. Problem is, you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later | The main problem with our situation was plane ticket prices.
See, like most wannabe indie girls, I had always wanted to travel after college. Live in summertime for a couple years, write a poem in every continent, cheesy stuff like that. I wanted to meet all kinds of different people. I wanted to visit cat cafes, which New York was severely lacking. I guess… I guess I also wanted to see just how far the strange godly bond between my ex-girlfriend and I could stretch. Maybe if I moved across the ocean, I told myself, then I wouldn’t have this problem anymore.
As it turned out, the godly bond stretched at least from New York to Spain. It also stretched from New York to Israel, and to Panama, and to Shanghai. No matter where I went, whenever my ex needed me (the definition of need was *definitely* subjective here), I would be godly transported right to her side. Aphrodite doesn’t play around, not even if you were only 15 and mostly joking when you told her you’d always be there when she was in trouble.
Anyways, I’m getting off track. The plane tickets. The plane tickets were what really made the whole thing hell, because although Aphrodite had the goodness in her heart to teleport me places, she never quite found the time to teleport me back. And although Addie always offered to split the ticket price, I never took her up on it. Would’ve felt like stealing. After all, it was my dumb ass who got us into this mess.
Italy was something new. After a couple weeks in Egypt I figured I’d turn back to Eastern Europe. I’d taken a red-eye, rented a car and driven to the motel I’d rented in Florence. Just as I finished unpacking my suitcase, I felt the first tugging sensations in my stomach. *God damn it.*
I scrambled to grab a hold of my Epi-Pen and my phone. Generally, everything that was touching my skin got transported along with me, wherever I was going. Back in college, we’d tried to use it to smuggle drugs but I guess Aphrodite didn’t approve of that sort of thing.
The room spun. I squeezed my eyes shut, crouching, bending my head down until my forehead pressed against my knees. Don’t throw up, I told myself. Don’t throw up.
If you’ve ever been teleported by a goddess, then you know how the middle part feels. If you haven’t, there isn’t much use trying to explain it to you.
When I opened my eyes, I was standing on the edge of a highway. Black asphalt bled into a stretch of grass dotted with wildflowers. Beyond that I could see a forest. It was spring, a 60 degree day, and my stomach was about ready to reject everything I’d eaten in the past 24 hours.
“I was just thinking about you,” a voice called.
I turned around.
Addie was sitting crisscrossed on the trunk of her silver Mini Cooper, cheerful as ever. She wore a pair of faded overalls and scuffed up sneakers. I hadn’t seen her in a couple weeks, but she looked healthy, brown skin almost glowing in the sunlight.
Of course we met like this. Her, looking like some kind of goddess, and me, fresh off a two hour car ride preceded by a three hour flight preceded by five hours of delays at the airport. “Hi,” I said, waving my hand with the Epi-Pen. “Car troubles?”
Addie nodded. “Did I wake you up?” Her eyebrows scrunched together in concern.
I shook my head, rubbing at my eyes a little. “Another ten minutes and you might have, though,” I said.
“I’m sorry, Zoey.”
“Don’t worry about it. You know, at least you didn’t catch me on the plane. Again.”
Addie laughed. Her laugh was best when you caught her off guard. “Yeah, yeah. Fix my car, Miss Mechanic.”
I had to pop the hood of the car, then, before I did something stupid.
I mean, it wasn’t like we were out of the question or anything. We’d dated for a couple weeks in tenth grade, unanimously decided that we weren’t quite ready to come out to any parents yet and put the whole thing on hold. Of course, then we’d gone off to different colleges and Addie had gotten a new girlfriend and that was the end of that. The only reason my weak romantic heart still held out hope was because after ten years and two other girlfriends, I’d been the only one to stay.
My *staying* might have been entirely the fault of some vicarious goddess, but the point still stood.
“You awake down there?” Addie called, from the driver’s seat.
I snapped to awareness. “I cleaned your spark plugs,” I told her. “Try starting it now.”
She pressed the key into the ignition, and the car hummed to life. “You are a *goddess*,” she cheered.
“You must be thinking of the crazy one up there,” I said, pointing up towards the sky.
Addie leaned out of the car window. She smiled at me, a slow, sweet thing. It made her look fifteen again. “If you have time, I’ve just downloaded all of Firefly onto my computer.”
I swallowed. “Thanks, but I should probably be heading back to Italy.” I couldn’t manage to meet her eyes.
“Zoey,” Addie said.
I looked at her, really looked at her. She was making her puppy dog face, the one she used to use in middle school to get me to bake cookies with her, or to let her braid my hair. I’d gotten much better at saying no to her these days, and considered refusing, but. She really did look like she wanted me to stay.
Well, maybe there was hope for my weak romantic heart yet.
“I have one condition,” I said. “No country music.”
Addie grinned. “Fine, you big buzzkill.”
So I got in the passenger seat of her silver Mini, car grease and fuzzy pajama pants and all. There was a moment of silence before Addie turned on the radio, and maybe I was imagining things but I’m pretty sure that somewhere very high up, a vicarious old lady was godly laughing. | A young man stands in front of a crowded board room his presentation is impeccable. He's worked his way up from intern to junior exec, and it's taken years of late nights to get him to this point. His smart blue suit only slightly lighter than the others in the room, his tie a perfect accent piece to his pocket square which sets off his wire frame glasses. The young man continues his well rehearsed diatribe, "You'll see in the graph here that..." A cloud of smoke envelopes him and then dissipates leaving the rest of the attendees in awe.
Across the country on a small studio lot just outside of Los Angeles a woman sits on a curb eating a sandwich when smoke begins to materialize, the young man appears before her eyes in a brilliant shimmer of folded space which looks as if someone smeared the background.
"Oh *you're* here." The young woman remarks.
He turns around investigating his new surroundings before looking down at the girl, "Jesus Christ Keri, what the hell do you want?"
"Well I didn't want *you* ." She answers before discarding the food on the ground.
"Uh, yeah Keri, that's how this works. Remember? In perhaps the most regretful phrase I've ever uttered in my life, I pledged to always be there for you. Then a skank in pink heart print dress appeared and said 'So it shall be, always.' So now when you want me, and only me I fucking appear wherever you are. I was only fifteen how the hell is that binding?!?"
The woman shrugged and said, "Well as long as you're here, the studio says they'll give me a line if I show my breasts in the movie. Should I do it?"
"Yes, of course you should," The young man replied. As soon as Keri's back was turned he began to give her the finger with both hands.
"You really think I should? Don't you think that could hurt my career? I want to be thought of as a serious actress..." She turned around suddenly to see both of his middle fingers outstretched in an aggressive, and angry way. "Brad... god damn it, I'm serious."
"I don't give a flying red headed fuck what you do, the perpetually pink bitch made it so I have to be here, she didn't make me feel the need to be helpful. Your tits have been all over the internet for years. Remember when we broke up and you got on Girls Gone Wild? Yeah so there isn't a pervy old man in America who hasn't spanked it to your underage, and until verrrry recently undersized chest; by the way tell your doctor I love his work, and leave me the fuck alone!"
She smiled at him, "You're jealous, I'm here shooting a film with the guy who played on Renegade and you're stuck in your little cubicle back home. Why can't you just be happy for me you piece of shit?"
"I was in the middle of a meeting that would have made me a partner. I have a girl I'm crazy about, and she puts up with this popping back and forth thing for god knows why, and I'm jealous?"
The two screaming at each other drew the ire of the director who then stormed over to the pair, "Who are you?" He demanded.
Brad sighed and said, "I'm Brad her ex boyfriend."
The director threw out his hands with his palms raised, "Do you work here?"
"No."
He turned his attention to the young woman, "And you, who the hell are you?"
"um... I'm Keri. I play Sorority slasher victim 2."
"Not anymore, you're fired. Steven, get me casting, I need another big breasted bimbo to show her tits in this piece of shit. Let's go, we're moving on."
Keri stood there her mouth agape, then she turned to look at Brad who's lips had begun to curl upwards at the corners, "You... this is all your fault. Fix it, fix it now."
Brad broke out into a bright white smile as karma finally caught up with Keri. He did his best to snap his lips closed but the joy was just so overwhelming he broke into a slight laugh as he said, "Why? Remember I don't have to help, I just have to be there for you."
"Well how are you going to like it if I suddenly need a towel boy at 2:AM your time for the foreseeable future after I swipe right on every guy in LA? Fix this now."
Brad visibly gulped and said, "Excuse me Mr. Director..." | 2017-03-22T16:13:24 | 2017-03-22T15:05:15 | 51 | 19 |
[WP] You’re suddenly transported to another world where magic is cast by perfectly pronouncing an ancient language. This language happens to be your native tongue | The finals were beginning. The greatest magicans upon the world gathered to determine the most power of them all.
First, Grield, Lord of Flame. He incrinerated the Demon Kings army with mearly a paragraph. Thw power he wielded was unmatched in his homeland.
Next, Yauss, Master of Summoning. He brought forth Dragons, Liches, Wraiths, and finally the First Apostle of Ryos, God of War. Each one took only a sentence, barring the Apostle, who took a paragraph.
Third, Rin, Pinnacle of Healing. They healed the epidemic spread accross the world, with only a sentence, then launched into healing the kings Dementia with a paragraph.
And finally, Annul, the Stranger. They were highly peculiar, and started with a spell to summon paper and pens for all to borrow, and asked them what spells they wished for Annul to use. Upon gathering the spells, they began weaving the spell within their book, taking only 3 hours to make 20 paragraphs. This shocked everyone, none more than Grield, Yauss, and Rin, who had taken painstaking efforts of months and months to make their spells.
Upon finishing, Annul began to read the words off the page, and everyone watched closely, their eyes practically on the book itself.
It took several minutes to finish, and everyone waited with baited breath.
And the God decended. But soon the Demon King came, then the 12 Apostles, and finally the Outer King, Gelhwkdn.
But those parts were inferior to the truly impressive spell they cast with those 16 paragraphs.
The long dead kings arose, the incinerated army reformed, but no one knew the true spell they had casted.
The Strange won, but they only smiled and said one thing at the ceremony, “You know not what I casted,” and offered the trophy and title of most powerful mage to anyone who could identify the spell they had cast.
But the finalists had already read the spell, and went up one by one to make their guess.
“A portal to another world,” guessed Grield.
“Eternal protection from harm,” guessed Yauss.
But the one who guessed right was Rin.
“No one can die anymore.”
The stranger smilled, handed over their trophy, and walked away, never to be seem again. | \[Poem\]
In a world of immortals and sleek flying cars
Which dances on clouds and weeps among stars
In this world of successful experimentation
There’s quite an odd subject of deep fascination.
&#x200B;
In a museum it sits, deprived of our touch
On the wall with the prophecy spoken so much.
“The ancient one rises; by their tongue and will,
They’ll awaken this power, currently lying still!”
&#x200B;
So with quavering breath and a throbbing heart
The crowd waits for their hero to finally start
I stand by what the ages have deigned to call eerie
And with mischi’vous grin I call out now…
&#x200B;
“Hey Siri!” | 2022-11-19T12:27:25 | 2022-11-19T11:58:05 | 48 | 34 |
[WP] A lone Spanish soldier lost in the deep jungles of South America stumbles upon the fountain of youth, but it's very different than anyone ever imagined. | You seem elated at what you have found, young soldier. You are to be commended for surviving the thick perils of the jungle which have taken the lives of millions before you. Perhaps you've been looking for this fountain your whole life, and now you have found it. Maybe you're wondering if there is some sort of catch to this, some horrible exchange you must make in exchange for eternal youth?
Allow me to assuage your fears, for nothing terrible will happen to you, should you drink this water. You won't grow an extra head, or kill someone else by prolonging your life this way. Of course, immortality is not the same thing as invincibility, you can still die. I have seen it happen before, and in fact, I think I am the only man who still lives after drinking the water from this fountain. What, you may ask, could befall someone in such a way?
Well, tomorrow is never a guarantee, there is that. Even if you drink the water, the jungle itself may very well forbid you to return home. But even those who make it out, I have found, see the passage of time accelerate at a pace that drives them insane. You are young, but surely you have noticed that your days seem much shorter now than when you were in the charge of your parents. Now, imagine that acceleration over several hundred years, and you can see the drawback. The lives of loved ones seemed like minutes and seconds, wrinkles forming on the elderly brow at sunset on one who was an infant at sunrise. Those who would have their loved ones drink the water found that the journey grows more treacherous with each passing day. Many of them die, cut their lives even shorter than they would have been without the water.
Immortality is lonely. I should know, I have been here for three thousand years, and I have seen only twenty people in those millennia. Here in this strange place, the other fountains showed me the lives of the survivors of the jungle's wrath. And in those three thousand years, I have yet to see one person not regret their decision to drink these waters. When time forgets your existence, it simply leaves you behind.
The choice is yours, young soldier. I cannot stop you from drinking the water, but I have stood here all these millennia to help those such as yourself understand the choice they are about to make. No one, upon reaching this place, has ever refused the water, but I hope you will be the first. | I can't believe my luck, such a beautiful fountain. Here where I'd least expect it. I step in. Just to cool off from the heat. To clean up. I feel so wonderful! It's indescribable! My years have fallen aside and I'm young again. Really? Could this actually be happening? Wow! It's incredible! Amazing! I may just be able to hike back to civilization. To my friends. Family. As I step out, I feel older again. Maybe a little older than I was before. Perhaps a longer bath is required. Young again, I bathe! ... Out and older still. Back and young! Out, and older yet again.
I'm in the fountain.
I can't leave the fountain.
I'm very, very hungry.
Damn. | 2014-09-06T21:10:40 | 2014-09-06T21:02:45 | 149 | 58 |
[WP] The phrase "Those who don't learn history are doomed to repeat it" is true. Everyone who fails history class is sent back to a random era in history as punishment. You are one of them. | *Alexander Anderson*. I printed my name at the top and opened the booklet. I circled C. For all the multiple choice questions. ‘Which idea/s developed from Marxism?’ I filled out the line underneath as *Capitalism*. ‘When did World War II begin?” *2017*. I answered the rest of the questions in a similar fashion. I flipped to the last page, which I knew would be blank. I took out my coloured pencils and began working on my piece of art. Mario holding a nazi flag.
I didn’t really care much for history. Art was my forte though. You didn’t need to spend countless hours reading about some boring event like The Great War. As long as you *felt* it you could become a prodigy in art. As long as you looked around or inside you, you could find everything you needed to make wondrous works. I finished with half an hour to go.
“Ms., I’ve finished!” I gushed. I marched over to her and smacked my paper down onto the table. I turned my head, raised my chest, and headed for the door.
“I can’t just let you leave. Here’s a good idea to waste time: help me mark your test.” I couldn’t exactly refuse her ‘offer’. So now mildly annoyed, I rolled my eyes before I swivelled my body and limped in her direction.
“Before I begin marking, I mean *we* begin marking, do you have any last words?” She grinned.
“No.”
“Very well then. Let’s start.” I could see she wasn’t very accepting of my multiple choice answers. Her angered expression was clearly visible. She skipped the entire multiple choice section and began marking the short answer questions.
“*Capitalism*. Is this a joke to you?” Her stare bore into me. I laughed. She continued scrolling through the answer she knew were pointless until she reached the end. Her face lit up a dark purple for a moment. The purple subsided and her stern face showed nothing but pure disappointment. Not even anger. For the first time in her class, I couldn’t just laugh it off. Complete genuine disappointment. It felt as if the pressure was crushing me. My heart skipped a beat. My fight or flight kicked in and my adrenaline spiked.
“I’ve had bad kids. I had hope in most. Some were like you.” She leaned from her chair and pulled a draw open next to her foot. She pulled out a plain piece of paper. She removed an iridescent key from her right pocket and unlocked a tiny safe within the draw. She removed a fluro pink quill. She etched the words *Auschwitz, October 1943. Young Jewish boy* onto the paper\*.\* She handed it to me.
“Say ‘Travel me’ ”. I stood there for 5 or so seconds before uttering the words.
“T-Travel me.” My reality warped and in front of me was a gate. The words read ‘ARBEIT MACHT FREI’. I stumbled forward and my rag of a shirt let in a gust of cold wind. I could feel my ribs protruding. My knees nearly buckled as I took each step.
“How do I get out of here?” I remarked to the man beside me. His face drooped.
“You can’t.” He sniffled. I felt the gaze of soldiers. We entered the changing room and I removed my clothes. Only then did I realise just how malnourished I was. There was barely any meat on my bones. I could fit my hand around my wrist like a hula hoop. At least I could stay clean. We entered the showers and as I eagerly awaited warm water what hit me was neither hot nor cold water. As the blue smoke slowly escaped holes in the roof, I realised the entire room was stained a blue.
The gas slowly lowered itself like a cloud. I started seeing the panic on everyone’s faces. A woman collapsed with her baby in the room and started praying to god.
“ברוך אתה, אדוני אלוהינו” she started mumbling. Some people followed suit. Others clawed the walls and jumped at the door. Everyone was bawling their eyes out and wailing. When it reached my lungs, my breathing and heart suddenly ceased function. I gasped for air but no Oxygen entered. My entire body ached and my lungs felt as is if they were being crushed into a fine dust. My vision blurred and slowly the grasp on my chest weakened as I could no longer muster any strength. Everything stopped. I was in the classroom standing beside the teacher. I was panting.
“Do you understand now?” Her cold voice bellowed. “I admit it was a bit harsh but it’s hard to comprehend events that didn’t really occur to you.” I tried to comprehend her words but all I could think about was that heavy, breathless feeling. “I NEVER want to see you draw anything like I saw in the test EVER again” She uttered. “Leave.”
I finished History class that day not with a newfound love or interest, but with a hefty respect for history. | "15. What were Julius Caesar's famous last words, and why did he say them?"
I sighed, sparing a glance to the clock. 60 questions on a test for 60 minutes? This was ridiculous, and I'm not just saying that because I was paying no attention to the class whatsoever for the entire year. For a long time I just stared down at that question, knowing full well I probably wasn't going to finish the test at all in the time given. Mom and dad were going to kill me when they found out how badly I screwed up the history final.
In the end I just picked at random (my choice ended up being D. "Livia, live by the memory of our marriage; he was comforting his wife.") I'd only been at question 35 when the bell finally rang to announce my failure. I hunched my shoulders and stood up with the other late finishers, trudged to the front, and handed in my paper.
I told my parents, of course. I'd always found they were a little less harsh about this stuff if I told them first. Still, Dad was angry, of course. Told me I wouldn't be allowed out of the house for the first week of summer. I wish he'd had the opportunity to enforce that now, I really do. That night, I went to sleep in my own bed and woke up in one that was *much* less comfortable, I have to say. Light was streaming in through the top of a... well, a very old-seeming tent. I don't know the technical term.
I sat up, got out of the bed. More of a sleeping roll, really, not a bed. It looked like it was just cut from animal hides and furs sown in right onto the sides. Definitely not very appealing, but better than the ground I guess. The tent was pitched up with what amounted to a big wooden pole in the center, probably ropes outside. The fabric looked rough, and outside I could hear... people. A lot of them. And what sounded like horses? Confused, I left the tent to find a huge number of people moving about what I immediately recognized as a war camp. Many sat around fires, cooking up their breakfasts, while others lead horses carrying equipment back and forth.
I would later find out that this was the Roman Legion. And they were apparently following me, attacking tribes of barbarians to expand Rome's land. This all was sounding very familiar, and I got a lot of odd looks in the first few years; but I settled into my new role eventually.
First the tribes; they fell easily before the Legion, and I barely had to say anything. The generals handled a lot of the strategizing, and I could just poke in every now and then with the little tidbits I remembered from History (I got the time wrong every now and then, but for the most part it was a positive.) I gained favor in Rome; I came back and took control. I had my allies, to watch my back for the dissenters; Marcus, Decimus, Gaius. All these Roman names seemed strange to me, but the full names were worse a lot of the time. I ended up just calling Marcus by his last name, Brutus a lot of the time.
Still, I'm optimistic about the future. I see enemies in the shadows, every now and then; but I know who I can trust. Brutus is watching out for me, I'm sure. | 2018-06-14T21:05:37 | 2018-06-14T18:33:35 | 55 | 16 |
[WP] People often attribute your success as a superhero to your power. However the truth is the power itself sucks, you just learnt how to use it well despite its limitations over the years, as one power stealing villain painfully learnt | I suppose turning supers into celebrities was inevitable. Society loves flashy, interesting, and dramatic. It didn't help that when the first few supers revealed themselves, they did so with a camera crew behind them. Instant celebrity status within an hour. A decade later and you *had* to be flashy to be a hero. Or a villain. If you weren't, well the world just ignored you. Can't be a terrifying villain if nobody cares that you even exist.
Which is why I never bothered trying. My power was pretty useless, neat, but useless. Nothing ever fell out of reach for me, and I didn't need much help getting things off the top shelf (an amazing boon being the tiny woman that I am). Instead, I chose to become a doctor of General surgery instead. While obvious in hindsight, turns out minor telekinesis with a kilogram weight limit is an almost perfect power to compliment any surgeon. Still, superheroics was something I largely ignored. I was a *hero*, just not a *super* hero, and even well known in the medical field due to my skills with a scalpel, and that was more than enough for me.
It wasn't until I single-handedly incapacitated the terrifying villain Monstrosity that the world took notice of me... Only to forget about me just as quickly when they saw that I was a rather ordinary lady despite being able to quickly and easily take down one of the strongest villains in the world. So the world classified me as "S Tier" and that was that. At least, until the next supervillain. And the next. And the next. I don't know what it was about villains and *my* hospital, maybe it was just the idea of trying to beat me. Fortunately for my hospital, my weak power was so fine tuned that I could clamp off a vein or artery, apply pressure to the brain in the right way, or knock around some inner ear bits to quickly and efficiently knockout anybody that attempted to threaten us.
Even Leech, who could "borrow" the powers of any super within a hundred yards. Poor kid thought he was about to rule the world. Unfortunately for him my power was so mundane without my specialized training that he didn't even realize what power I had before I knocked him out, too. It didn't matter who I faced, how flashy *they* were, my unassuming self and vehement opposal to bring a celebrity at all let me remain... Surprisingly anonymous. And eventually, villains gave up trying to challenge me as well. I was just too powerful with my measly telekinetic power. | I watched my opponent carefully. There were lines around him, possible moves, all converging into one. Right on time, I ducked, jumped forward and turned, landing at his side. I punched him, then stepped backwards to avoid his kick.
My opponent grunted and twisted, preparing to use his power. When I saw that, I moved just *a little* too slow, allowing him to hit me.
He looked faintly surprised. Then he began to move randomly. They always did. Everyone knew that would throw the power off. What they failed to realize was that there is a art to moving randomly. Although with chess, a beginner *can* sometimes win from a more experienced player that way, that doesn’t mean that moving randomly is a guaranteed win. This one was so focused on not patterning that it allowed me to grab and throw him easily, and on the ground, he was done for in minutes, if not seconds. | 2020-12-02T07:54:05 | 2020-12-02T07:12:59 | 214 | 62 |
[WP] The warrior princess is worried that her battle scars would make her unfit for marriage. The prince of the kingdom she was attacking, however, vehemently disagrees. | “Septimius, who *is* that woman?”
I sit atop a gilded palanquin, carried on the backs of a hundred servants, and for the first time in my life I feel poor. The battlefield in front of me is a whirling mass of dust and screams where wounded men claw their way across the dying, and its center is a nearly impossible to understand storm.
She cuts through it all with ease, and she sits astride a horse, not a throne.
“The Princess Yona,” Septimius says. “Heir to the throne of Kouka.”
“Yona. Yona.” I repeat the words, savoring their rhythm. Yo-na. She strikes down at an infantryman who has grabbed her foot. I cannot see him, but when her blade rises, it’s bright red. “Does she always fight like this?”
“Not always my lord. Refugees from Sei have said that she was a latecomer to the ways of the sword, trained by a now dead friend and bodyguard. They also say her skill with a bow is unmatched.”
“And the scars on her arms? Do they say what those are from?”
“A palace coup, my lord. A failed one.”
A failed coup. A woman who fights. Yona, I think to myself. Yo-na. Her hair is almost the color of the blood she spills, though it’s vibrant in a different way, a beacon of life, not death. I find myself drawn to her, inexplicably so. Half the royal harem waits for me in the camp at the rear but suddenly they don’t matter. The memory of their perfumes fades in next to sweat and filth of battle and my heart beats with a animalistic, near primal energy.
“Her scars, does she have more?”
Septimius doesn’t look at me, they train servants far too well for that in the western lands I’ve purchased him from. He’s been my companion for almost a decade however, and I know him better than anyone, just as he knows me. My comment has disappointed him, he sees it as unbecoming. Free men have been strangled for less.
But Septimius isn’t free and the station he holds, though informal, carries with it some benefits. I laugh instead. “Please Septimius, I don’t intend to take her to wife! There’s something about her though, she’s beautiful in ways I never imagined to find alluring.”
“When my lord wins the battle, perhaps she can attend to him,” Septimius says.
“When I win the battle, she can attend to a treaty first. One that cedes to border all the way to the Fire lands. Maybe then she’ll be fit to attend me.”
Looking at her though, I realize my words are braver than I feel. Princess Yona has a recurved bow across her back. She fights in robes as red as her hair, tied at her slim waist with a light pink belt, a white cloak flowing behind her. She wears no armor that I can see. Her sword is long and curved, shining in the afternoon sun as it slices through my men. I’ve never held a sword. Men of my station don’t, it would be unseemly. We don’t pull bows, we only ride horses at polo. I have grown out the nail on my right hand’s smallest finger. The court has emulated that.
Yona won’t have long nails. She doesn’t even have long hair, and from what I can see at this distance it’s hardly styled aside from a pair of braids down the front. She’s nothing at all like the women I’ve known.
“Septimius? How does the battle go?”
“It is close, my lord.”
I have trouble telling such things. The ranks look like a milling mass of peasantry and not a single person stands out to me aside from her. “General Zhu, when will you send in the cavalry?”
“Soon my lord,” a costumed and medallioned man says. I nod and wave him back to whatever duties should concern him.
And then, as if she can hear me, Yona looks up.
I cannot tell if it is my imagination, or if her eyes are really so bright. They’re violet! Or at least I think they are. She’s striking, intoxicating, unique and beautiful and scarred and deadly and wild. Wild beyond all measure, beyond all the paths my soul will ever walk, and as soon as our eyes meet I know I must have her.
“General Zhu!” I shout. His head snaps to me, he has never heard me shout. “Send in the cavalry!” I command. I stand in my palanquin, letting her see me. She holds the gaze for a moment longer, an impossible moment that I wish might never end.
“And General! If any man harms the Princess, I’ll have his head. After I take his family’s.”
General Zhu dives off his horse and bows so low his forehead scrapes the ground. “Yes Great Lord!” he shouts.
Trumpets sound, messengers ride out, the tides of battle change at my whim, as all the universe does. I remain standing, staring down into the thick of it all where she still fights and where men still die. A spear reaches out of the crowd, scoring her along the side. I gasp and lean forward, grabbing palanquins rail to steady myself. “Septimius, she must not be hurt.” I say. He bows too, head slamming into the palanquin’s sandalwood floor.
Our cavalry emerges on the right flank and now it’s the enemy’s turn to sound trumpets. The line blurs at the edges as men try to reposition spears. A great roar swells up as cavalry charges and I roar with them, singing out a hallowed battle paean.
Yona’s mount skitters back, she’s bleeding freely, a hand at her side. Another scar. Our eyes meet again and now I know they’re violet, I know they’re bright and that brightness is just for me. She’s been waiting for this, for an equal! I have been too, it takes a special soul to recognize such things.
Her men surge forward around her, plugging up the hole she has left. Our cavalry is only seconds away from striking now, I’ve never felt anything like this! My blood pounds through my veins, my hands and legs shake. I can hardly stand from the excitement.
There’s passion written across Yona’s face too. The edges of her mouth pull, is it a smile? Could it be? I couldn’t be imagining something so beautiful, could I?
Her hands raise to the graceful curve of her neck and I blink, suddenly not even able to look.
When my gaze finds the Princess again her bow is in her hands. The string is drawn back to her cheek. She stares at me with all the fire I could ever desire, and as my cavalry strikes her lines I cry out, joy intermingling with fear.
No woman has ever been so beautiful.
Yona fires.
r/TurningtoWords | FADE IN
INT -- A ROYAL BEDROOM -- SUNNY
*An armoured warrior sits, removing her helmet to reveal matted hair stuck to her scarred face. This is YENN. She sweeps them away, exhaling quickly. One particularly long scar streches across her nose and left cheek, with several other smaller ones on her face. Her armour is bulky and heavy, but she moves with surprising ease and grace, placing her elbow on her knee, and her face on a clenched fist, contemplating the standing man in front of her.*
**YENN:** Who are you again?
*The man is dressed in armour as well--but much more elaborate and ceremonial, decked with flashes of red and gold. This is HAYES. Unlike Yenn, his face is near flawless--much more like a stereotypical Prince Charming. He looks up and smiles.*
**HAYES:** Prince Hayes of the Delta Kingdom.
**YENN:** Delta... you. Why do you stand before me?
**HAYES:** We are no longer enemies, Princess Yenn. I come on a social visit.
*Yenn looks up and down. She snorts, unimpressed.*
**YENN:** As evident from your armour.
**HAYES:** It is customary for emissaries to wear this, for better or worse. I would much rather be standing before you in the same suit of armour that I fought you with.
**YENN:** It was a good fight. I would have won on another day.
*The Prince of Delta smiles.*
**HAYES:** I actually do not disagree. Which is why I'm here.
*Yenn sighs.*
**YENN:** A rematch of our armies? A duel? A competition? Name it. I will abide by its rules and then destroy you.
**HAYES:** Ah. Are you familiar with the rules of marriage then, by any chance?
*Yenn looks startled. Inadvertently, she shoots up straighter, and coughs, as if that can hide her sudden movement.*
*Hayes chuckles.*
**HAYES:** (*cont'd*) To think you could be caught off-guard.
**YENN:** This is no joke, Prince Hayes. You are in my kingdom. I could have you executed.
**HAYES:** You are a warrior first and foremost, Princess Yenn. I understand that. But you are also a lady.
*Yenn reaches towards her scabbard, withdrawing her sword threateningly.*
**YENN:** What makes you think and say so? I can gut you where you stand.
**HAYES:** Call it a feeling. Call it fate, perhaps. But when we crossed swords on the battlefield, I was overcome with something I've never felt--passion.
**YENN:** You mistake bloodlust for lust.
**HAYES:** No, no. It's not that. I couldn't care less if you were a lady or gentleman. What I meant was...
*Hayes steps a little closer. Yenn tenses up, but her shoulders relax after a few seconds.*
*There's a strange air between the two. Not of animosity. They look in each other's eyes for a moment, showing sincerity in each move.*
**HAYES:** (*cont'd*) You impressed me. Utterly and thoroughly. You are first-rate royalty, and I--and my kingdom--would be lucky to have us join sides through marriage.
**YENN:** You have a strange way of talking.
**HAYES:** I have the feeling you'll appreciate no bullshit. Yes, I do appreciate you--but any courtship between royals inevitably turn political. I am only laying out the terms, much like one would before a duel.
**YENN:** Bizarrely, I appreciate it.
**HAYES:** So? What say you?
*A beat.*
*Yenn thinks for a moment, her brows furrowed.*
**YENN:** I am a warrior. But I am also a princess.
**HAYES:** Both true facts.
**YENN:** ... And many have called me first-rate as a warrior. But as a princess? My scars? My bulk? What say you? I have grown a thick skin hearing those comments. I couldn't care less from others. But from a suitor...
**HAYES:** They are part of you. And I want all of you--the scars, the prowess, the woman.
**YENN:** Hmm. Are those not just flattering words?
**HAYES:** Flattery can also be true. There is no deceit in my words. I liked you as a warrior, and I'm certain I'll like you as a princess, and even my spouse.
*A beat.*
**YENN:** (*cont'd*) Yours words are direct. It might be a bit much for most, but you sound sincere. I appreciate it.
*Hayes bows.*
**HAYES:** I am. Know this, Princess Yenn--a marriage would suit our kingdoms politically, but it would also please me to no end.
*Yenn rubs her chin. A devilish smile flashes across her face.*
**YENN:** But what I'm really hearing is that you want to be stepped on.
*Hayes looks startled. This time, he's the one that shoots straight up. Then, he kneels to the floor.*
**HAYES:** Oh god, yes, if you'll have me.
FADE TO BLACK
---
r/dexdrafts | 2021-04-19T09:09:56 | 2021-04-19T08:49:15 | 631 | 243 |
[WP] You have the ability to see a few seconds into the future when you are in danger. You joined the army and became a captain. You are out on patrol when you notice one of your men getting a transmission you don’t receive. You then see your men shooting you in the back a few seconds later. | Six years in. Six to go.
Twelve was a long while to spend on the front lines, and the footies got the worst of it. Rumor was that the survivor rate had dropped to 13% on the last census. Not much room for optimism when you were in the slop, but that was how wars were supposed to work, weren't they?
Us or them. With a bit of luck, maybe just enough of us to rebuild when it was all over.
Lieutenant Dawkins took a long pull on his joint, the thick plume of smoke curling lazily out of his mouth as he looked over the craters in the valley below. "They say we lost Inner Perseus." He exhaled now, the exasperation bleeding in. "When we gonna hit 'em back?"
I shrugged, my mind only half there as I ran a status check on my gear. The visual overlay was a sea of blinking red. Low ammo. Low stim. Low armor. Low chance of making it off of this pile of slag. All this time stomping through the galaxy and I was gonna die on some rock no one had ever heard of. Wasn't anything but a few listeners and a star peeper. Not worth what we'd lost.
"Cap, what the hell are we doing out here?"
"Our job, Lieutenant." Immediately a flash appeared in my mind, an image of the joint sailing through the air on a trajectory with my head. Just as soon as I'd processed the vision, Dawkins was already making to flick it my way, a sour look on his face. I jerked my head back, the joint sailing by.
Dawkins grunted. "I'll get you one of these days Cap."
I chuckled, "Gonna have to get faster than that Dawk." A lot faster. Faster than time. Faster than my ability to peek into what was coming. Couldn't say how I got it, just know that it'd come on after I'd signed on the dotted line with the Force Humanus. The gift, or whatever it was. I heard some whispers here and there about others out there like me, though that was the extent of it. I guess I was all of the livin' breathin' proof I needed that it was real. It'd saved my hide, and more than a few of my men's, on more than one occasion.
Captain Clover.
Sometimes Four-Leaf. Occasionally Leafy. They could call me whatever they wanted so long as they followed orders and made the right scrapes and grunts when someone from up top came around. All I cared is that we were lucky. Or so they thought. I was content to let it stay at that, I didn't need no one from command prying my brain open to see how it worked.
Just needed to hold out for another six and I was done. Free and clear with a full exoneration. Finally unburdened of the heinous crime of being born to a shit family on a shit planet.
The Lieutenant had gone silent again. It was his default state these days. The last few hops had taken a lot out of him. We'd lost too many fighting for too little. No one even knew what we were in it for anymore. It used to be about surviving. About keeping humanity on the map. At least that was what they'd said.
Hard to match that up with the reality of things. Hard to say it was about survival when we were fighting on the ass-end of no where over a few listeners and a peeper. But I couldn't tell Dawk that. He'd had enough without me piling it on. "Least we got two blips before we got to move out."
Two blips. A tiny taste of respite after four months of brutal hell pacifying wherever the hell they were. The work was only half done. We'd be hopping to the next continent over soon enough. Apparently, the baddies had dug in deep. Built out a full cluster, which meant we'd be bushwacking with flashlights and glasbeams. Maybe the uppity ups would bother to hand out a restock before dropping us back in. Maybe.
"Comm has been quiet. I sent them up the sectional report and it's been static since." I'd taken care with the report, trying to find ways to explain our miraculous survival. More and more it felt like Comm was just trying to get us killed. We'd been ordered further and further out into the hostile lands and given less and less to make do with. I guess suicide was just par for the course.
All that was left was the husk at this point. The men had been hollowed out by the hell. Dawk had carried it the best he could, but he was getting the stares more and more. The dull blank look a man got when we had seen too much, done too much, and survived for too damn long.
"Keep your head on Dawk. Can't be this bad forever." Can't it? Eighty-seven out of a hundred pushing up daisies said otherwise. But I kept it quiet. I had gifts. I'd get him through, if it was the last thing I did. "I'll let you know when Comm gives us the word." I pushed the stool out from under me and came to a stand, moving toward Dawk to give him a supporting clap on the back.
A flash.
Another vision. I went alert, expecting a baddie to be inbound. But it wasn't. It was a picture of Dawk tapping his earlink and getting a buzz-in from someone up top. He flinched, and let loose a curse word. He turned and looked at me. Sorrow in his eyes. "Sorry Cap." The gun came up and it went black.
I came back to reality, sweat on my brow. Dawk's hand was moving up to his ear, beginning to bring the future into reality. I snarled, yanking my glasbeam out and bring it to bear on Dawk, his back to me. He pulled the message down. He flinched. He cursed. He turned, reaching for his gun, only to see me.
"Like I said Dawk, you'll have to get a lot faster."
He stared at me, a flash of surprise that faded to dead exhaustion. "Got an order." He raised his hands.
"Yeah?"
A slow shrug, "Yeah Leaf."
"What they'd want?" I replied.
"You."
"What they'd offer?" I asked.
"The six."
**Platypus OUT.**
**Want MOAR peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus | After dropping Clarke and Naranjo at the town to search the houses for any survivors I drove Mackavoy and West toward the top of the hill. West was our sniper, best shot in the whole squad and Mackavoy’s job was to watch West’s back. Make sure that no aliens sneak up on West while he’s watching over Clarke and Naranjo. Something was off but I couldn’t tell what. West was abnormally quiet and Mackavoy wouldn’t look me in the eye.
“Everything good?” I asked as we got out of the car. Mackavoy nodded and tried to smile but stopped as soon as I looked at him. West muttered something like, “Yeah.”
&#x200B;
“Guys seriously what’s up? We’ve been friends for seven years I can tell when something’s up.” Mackavoy put down his gun and said, “Nothing everything okay.” West started to set up his sniper. I frowned but walked back to the car. Maybe I did something wrong? Maybe it was something I said? I got into the car and was about to start the car when suddenly my ears rang. A premonition. It would always happen whenever I was in danger with just enough time for me to move. I started having them when I first joined the army. Armed with the ability to see the future I was able to rise up in rank easily. I saw Mackavoy answer his pager and then he pulled out his pistol and shoot me. I blinked. This was wrong. Mackavoy would never–
&#x200B;
In the corner of my eye, I saw Mackavoy answer his pager. I turned to look at him. When he looked at me my heart stopped. He was really going to shoot me. The window shattered as the bullet flew into my leg. “Ahhgg!” I yelled grabbing my leg. I got out of the car and fell to the ground. “Why?” I asked as Mackavoy approached me. His hand’s shaked and he licked his lips.
&#x200B;
“Army’s known about people who the aliens experimented for some time now. Those people eventually go crazy and kill any humans they see.” Mackavoy flinched when he looked at my leg. “I’m sorry Vincent, I really am. But the General knowns you’re one of those experiments and I’ve got to kill you.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes.
&#x200B;
“West are you gonna just let Mackavoy kill me?” I yelled. West just stared at his sniper rifle.
&#x200B;
“Sorry.” He muttered refusing to look at me. Mackavoy pointed the pistol at my head when I heard the sound of a car driving. Mackavoy looked up. “It's army and it's headed our way,” West said presumably looking through his sniper scope. I hoped it was Naranjo and Clarke coming to save me but that didn't make any sense. How would they get a car? A couple of minutes later West shouted, “It’s the General!” Mackavoy waited for the car to come. The car stopped in front of us.
&#x200B;
“Stop shooting him!” The General yelled as she got out of the car. Four other men with rifles got out of the car and took defensive positions. West walked up to the General.
&#x200B;
“You told us you wanted him dead.”
&#x200B;
“I’ve changed my mind.” The General walked toward me and knelt down. I gritted my teeth in anger and pain. “I’ve served the army for seven years! This is how you treat me?” The General shook her head. “I didn’t want to have you killed but all the experiments we’ve meet have gone insane.”
&#x200B;
“Why not kill me then?”
&#x200B;
“One of out scientist think that you could be an exception after you undergo one of her own experiments.” I grimaced. I didn’t remember being experimented on by the aliens but it could explain why I have premonitions. “Fine,” I told her. “Long as you don’t shoot me in the back again.” The General nodded.
&#x200B;
“There will be no deception this time. But if the experiment doesn’t work we’ll still have to kill you.”
&#x200B;
“Comforting.”
&#x200B;
Hope you enjoyed it! If not tell me why! Edit: Thanks for all the criticism! Not gonna lie I was concerned it would come off as rushed and I will be revisiting this submission to try and make it better. Thank you. Edit2: So I've rewritten it in an attempt to fix the mistakes that were called out. I hope this version is better but if you read it tell me if you like it or not. | 2019-06-07T19:54:26 | 2019-06-07T19:43:19 | 93 | 69 |
[WP] Your professor’s mistake in a time-travel experiment sent you 1.5B years into the future. Humanity is long gone, and the species that replaced them has some odd ideas about the artifacts and fossils left behind. | Funny enough, during undergrad work in Anthropology a very similar situation is posited. In Archaeology classes you are often encouraged to look at how things could be potentially used, and not just say "religious reasons" and put it aside. As an exercise, the professors would often pick a random object common in houses, or out in the world, and ask for both a religious and a non-religious context for the object as though you had no idea what it was. This was particularly fun with older households where the TV or radio was in a fancy holder (like an altar) and it was a central place of evening devotion, for example. OK, story time...
"For the last time, NONE of these are weapons!" I tried again, knowing my argument was falling on deaf receptors.
The Brixgad Homoarchaeology Team continued their careful examination of the scene, pulling my platform around on a silvery leash as they hovered slowly from artifact to artifact.
They were examining a site that was a meticulous digital recreation of some scanned minutiae that allowed them to recreate a "living capsule" for a human, and combined with their "capture" of me, they were determined to be the most famous Homoarchaeologists in the Empire.
Problem was, they all think they know humans better than I, an ACTUAL human, do.
They've spent thousands of hours each doing theory work and examining bones, artifacts, and reconstructed sites. They've gone through extensive classical education and hold advanced degrees that let them speak with authority on the subject. Many of the leaders here are lauded in the field as subject matter experts.
Main problem? They approached it from a Brixgad centric view. That means, for example, that they assume we had more limbs than we actually do, and that my cartilaginous tentacles have somehow either atrophied into non-existence, or that I'm some sort of strange outlier who had them surgically removed to give the finger to society.
I should really thank Professor Hedgeh when I get back. IF I get back. His experiment worked with flying colors and sent a living human to the future!
Missed the date by a couple digits though.
Turns out that this far in the future, humans have been extinct for longer than we existed, and the Earth has been re-colonized by a spacefaring (vaguely moluscan if I'm honest) species that needed an extra farming world.
One of the researchers tethered a digital recreation of an artifact and waved it at me, faux threatening, while warbling excitedly, before replacing it and moving on.
I give up. How do you explain a BDSM sex dungeon to a pack of hyper-advanced monosexual octopi? | The nebulous orb I’m supposed to call Frank attempts to pass along the Hitachi Magic Wand before the crowd erupts again. They’ve called to order the council of their brightest minds to meet and decide my fate since I so rudely interrupted their…whatever the hell they were doing when my time portal opened into their…livvvving room? Okay look, I have no idea where I am.
“What if he brings disease!?” A chorus of questioning erupts. “Order, order!” Frank slaps the wand against…I’m pretty sure that’s a desk. Reality is now so malleable that architecture has been replaced by immediate need, each object is made of the same matter as these beings. “I’m holding the Hitachi!” He taps it once more with a dull THUD.
“Let the stranger speak” he motions toward me and hands me his wand business end first. I can no longer contain myself and erupt into laughter. Frank is visibly upset. I motion for his…ear? I bring him closer. “Um my guy…that’s a…” | 2022-04-11T17:00:29 | 2022-04-11T13:26:26 | 108 | 28 |
[WP] God created thousands of worlds in thousands of galaxies. A major crisis in another galaxy has taken his entire focus, and for the first time in 750 years, he just glanced in our direction.
This prompt has two possibilities. What has he been dealing with for the last 750 years elsewhere, or what his reaction is when he looks back at us.
Edit: didn't realize I missed the 1. It was supposed to be 1750 years ago, so basically everything since 250 A.D. Was done without him paying any attention.
Edit 2: but if anyone has anything over the last 750 years, I'd be happy to read it.
Edit 3: I love what you are all doing. Having a hard time finding the time to read all of the posts, but I'll get there eventually. Thanks for all of the responses!
Edit 3.1: it's really interesting to see everyone's response and see how it reflects what I imagine is their view of how we are doing as a global society. Keep them coming.
Edit 4: I never imagined this would blow up like this. Thank you so much for all of your responses. This has been amazing to read. I understand what people mean when they say RIP INBOX. | Over on Earth's sister planet, Htrae, the Htraians had managed to construct an antimatter-fusion power source, but failed miserably at controlling it. Since God is more of a facilitator than an active interventionist these days, he decided they had to live (or not) with their mistake, and so the Htraians were, to a man, now packed into the singularity of a brand new supermassive black hole. Wrecked some of Big Man's long-term plans for that region of the cosmos, too, so he was a little miffed. See ya, Htraians.
"Let's see what the people of Earth have been up to, left to their own devices these last couple millenia," thought the Almighty, a bit tired from dealing with the universe's existential threat. Turns out containing a new black hole in the wrong place is a big job even for the Almighty, and remapping galactic plans for the next several millennia took some time.
"Hmm. Let's see. Social progress- some. They seem to have ignored a lot of my instruction to love one another in favor of obsessing over details in that stupid book they wrote up while Jesus was around and after. I should have been more clear on some of that, I guess, but I was trying to keep the universe in one piece. Never really thought they would take it that seriously."
"Technology- not bad. These clowns haven't gone the Htraian path yet, but they might eventually. They keep managing not to blow themselves up with all those nukes, too, which is good. There's a self-preservation instinct in there, glad to see that the society mirrors the individual on that. Taking care of their home... man. These guys are some kinda slobs, and for all that tech progress they're using practically none of their brainpower on fixing their house up. That self-aware ecosystem warning device thing I set up with the warming and the tsunamis and the hurricanes and stuff doesn't seem to have been noticed. Arrogant little shits."
"Jesus! Hey! Get in here."
"Yeah, pop?"
"You want to go back?"
"Nah. Those guys were total dicks to me last time."
"What should I do here? There's a lot of good but a lot of bad here, too."
"Throw them a non-world-ending but unavoidable asteroid impact near or on a major city. That worked for the Htrai... Oh. Well, never mind."
"Great idea! The asteroid move is a classic, even if I do say so. Been a while for me, too. That one over Siberia a hundred years ago was early- the communication infrastructure wasn't in place enough to cause people to freak out worldwide. What city?"
"Hmm. Let's see. (Jesus peers into his tablet...) Well, that Russian fellow is doing more saber rattling than he should be, trying to reclaim former glory. The Americans are greedier than ever, though, and they're destabilizing the rest of the world trying to stay on top. I say drop about a 1/8-mile-wide rock on both Washington DC and Moscow. Style points if you make them slow enough to be noticed and tracked so they can figure out what's happening in advance, and extra credit if they land at the exact same time."
"Are you teasing me, Jesus? I am the ALMIGHTY GOD, you know. At any rate- good plan. Getting TWO messages at once might wake these jerks up. What day should we do?"
"Easter? It's been about two millennia, but I'm still a little mad about the nails and the cross and stuff. That crown of thorns was just insulting."
"I know, Son. Easter it is. Let's get some popcorn and see how this pans out." | He turned the sphere on its slightly tilted axis, examining more closely the drier, barren regions. Once, they had been lush and full of life - full of strife, to be sure, but this was an inherent cost of free will. What struck Him the most was the great disparity clearly apparent in resources, wealth, and status which disabled generation upon generation from accessing opportunities to achieve.
He had thought that they were growing out of this trend - this lord and vassal relationship they had clung to in such stalwart fashion. His brow furrowed, and a frown slowly spread across his face.
His creatures had made great progress - quicker than expected - technologically. Shocking that they hadn't bombed themselves to death as many other great civilizations had.
The Old Man adjusted his spectacles. What to do? He could remove their ability to produce power - and thus throw the planet into true chaos; He had tried this once before, but after a few years the inhabitants simply turned on each other using more primitive methods. The same destruction and disparity, albeit on a less grand scale.
A good Crisis was a good method to push His creatures into better things. A large asteroid, for instance - or a great natural disaster. These tactics, however, had the unfortunate possibility of tipping a race into annihilation and extinction. Worse yet, civilizations had survived events like these and become even worse - irradiated, starving, brutal, and displayed a blatant refusal to change - following a narrative of war until they ground themselves into dust.
He smiled. Maybe, just maybe, this lot is different. They may find in themselves a collective care for one another - a great warming of their hearts. They may craft elegant instruments of peace, venturing out on them into the deep reaches, spreading civility and nobility - abandoning banal ideas like currency and capitalism. Progress. Accomplishment. Betterment. A fine few had followed these things into the dark and found themselves to be Great Ones at the end of it all.
He sat back in his chair. And He watched. Let them live, and make their choices; Freedom allowed them the possibility to be truly Good.
( apologies for typos or other errors - sitting shotgun on a 5 HR road trip ) | 2015-12-27T09:52:46 | 2015-12-27T09:13:39 | 399 | 196 |
[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." | Sweat decorated my face, my hands twitched, my personal signs of panic. I gripped my phone on one hand and on the other my bed sheets. A deafening silence filled my bed room.
"What the fuck?" I murmured to myself. I rose up to a sitting position, used the now dirty bed sheet to clean my face. "Sarah?" I called out to my wife. Only silence answered my question. I ripped the sheets from my form and lunged out of bed.
"Sarah!" I screamed. I ran out the bedroom, down the hall, and entered the living room. "Sarah?!" I yelled out once more. My eyes glanced about the room, scoutted the kitchen, peer to the old leathery couch but found nothing.
I fox walked in darkness using the surface floor to fix my location. "Sarah" I called out gently.
I clenched my eyes shut and attempted to steady my breath.
In and out.
In and out.
In and out.
The back yard. She has to be there, no? I gathered whatever wits I had, which wasn't much to begin with and slowly walked to the other side of the room. Pale white blinds decorated the door in front of me. I swallowed empty dread that filled my mouth.
I gently pull open the door.
Sarah stood outside, standing on the soft green grass. Her back faced me. She stood still and was currently looking at the sky.
I walked forward. "Sarah, you're scaring me" i softly whispered.
No answered came from her.
"Sarah, what the fuck are you looking-"
Words left my mouth. My hands shook and my breathing quickened.
The moon floated above. Far bigger then it should have. Markings scarred it's surface like crude cross hatched shading. The lines grew and within the crevasses poured out blood. I was paralyzed. I couldn't look away. Not when the blood finished covering it. Not when the latitudes and longitudes pulled away from the center and revealed what was hidden inside. A humanoid beast. Its skin paled skin matched that of the moon. It's arms pulled away from its legs and oriented itself upwards. Its face simply consisted of 7 eyes. The remains of the moon orbit around the beast. Faster and faster they moved, until they were blur. The beast opened its eyes and the pieces began to glow. Spears, they began to distort and change and took the forms of glowing spears.
Millions of miles away from Earth. Threw the empty void of space. The shafts of light flew.
Each Longinus struck true and with the impact millions of people were turned to their basic components. Primordial soup poured into valleys, flowed into rivers, flooded homes. Their souls however stayed where they once stood, whirled and moved and solidified into perfect red spheres.
The spheres shot up towards the sky and stopped once the swarm overlooked the Earth.
That day humanity vanished and the beast that screamed from the center of its egg feasted.
***
I'm very sorry for any errors. English is not my first language and past brain trauma certainly doesn't help.
Also I typed this out on my phone. So yeah. I would greatly appreciate any criticism. | The explosions had been rumbling off in the distance for hours as a young boy tried to drift off to sleep. The war might be raging, but the Allied Forces had deemed his village far enough away that an evacuation was only advised, not mandatory. With his mother the way that she was, the brunette knew that he would be sleeping in his own bed as soon as he heard those words. Still, the sounds persisted even as they faded into the background and then became an incorporated soundtrack to vague, shifty dreams.
A repetitive chirp woke him up as the witching hour drew to a close. Sitting up and rubbing his eyes in annoyance, he glanced at his blocky phone, the display lit up with hundreds of messages, all from unknown numbers, telling him to look at the moon. Above that, in bright red letters, scrolled a message “DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON”. It all seemed so ridiculous, the boy thought as he lay back down, ignoring his phone. Still, curiosity gnawed at him. *What was so special about the moon tonight?*
10 minutes passed, then 15, and still the boy couldn’t shake his curiosity. Finally heeding the gnawing drive in his chest, the boy sat up again, this time turning to his window, barred tight against the October chill. Brushing aside his curtains, the boy was greeted by the sight of a blood red moon for almost an instant, marred by rings and three black tomoe, before he woke up again to spring birds chirping. | 2022-09-27T16:50:27 | 2018-04-06T18:58:31 | 33 | 12 |
[WP] "What did you just say?" Asked the confused alien admiral. "The humans put miniature FTL-drives inside their AMMUNITION!" | Back before the Maxwell drive, you always got stories of how warp travel would change the world for the better. Star Trek and Star Wars and all that: even back then, FTL was seen, by and large, as a peaceful technology, a way to get around that would make life better.
The truth is, the Maxwell drive is terrifying. It is to nukes what nukes were to firecrackers, and it scares the pants off of all of us, every day.
Long ago, they had these things called ICBMs. You still read about 'em, in history classes back home: these big-ass missiles, able to rain death and fire on you from across an ocean. The drive kind of reminds me of those, in a way, only the ocean is space, and the target is whatever solar system you happen to call home. And, unlike the ICBMs, you don't get any warning, not ever. No time to tell your family you love 'em, no last hugs and kisses; just a bright light in the sky and pure, white-hot death. It's nature wiping clean the slate, undoing all the negative mass and photonic booms and hyperspace fuckery the only way it knows how.
And the most terrifying part of it all? It's easy to make the drive a weapon, easier than it is to use it peacefully. Our job, day in and day out, is to make sure that our ship exits warp unharmed. It took generations of geniuses to make the Maxwell drive anything but a weapon, and it took generations more to make it reliable. Even today, you still get the occasional warp burst, when a rookie warp tech fucks up and the computer doesn't catch it.
Every so often, though, we have to set up a burst on purpose. The command comes by ansible, straight from UN Milcom, and you immediately know that you've been selected. Milcom always means business. You get the target coordinates, retrieve a P-K from storage, and, once you've checked everything about a hundred times, you launch it.
You never stay around to hear what happens, but you hope, deep down, that you were destroying an enemy fleet, not a homeworld. Nobody deserves a P-K, regardless of what they've done, but it's them or you. And, whatever may happen, your allegiance is to mankind, not to aggressor aliens that shot first. It has to be, in this universe: it's kill or be killed, and you've got family back home, in Alpha Centauri or Sol or wherever. So, you do your job, and, when you get home, you've got a nice bonus in your account, courtesy of Milcom, and a letter giving you a week of leave from whatever system military you're working for. And, slowly, you push the anxiety and guilt out, and you get ready for the next job.
So, do I feel guilty, for what I've helped do? Sometimes. But, when I'm here, back home, where the future seems so bright, and hopeful, and good?
My guilt is a small price to pay for that, and I pay gladly.
| "First of all, HOW DID THEY MANUFACTURE SUCH SMALL DRIVES!?" Screamed the admiral, a little spitle flying across the room and landing on a screen, the poor lieutenant who was currently the focus of the rather angry admirals attention let out a small whimpering sound.
"W....we don't know sir! we've never been able to get them that small bu-" there was a cacophonous boom as yet another round from the human ship slammed into theirs, the entire bridge rocked as alarms began to ring all the louder, new ones joining the old ones, they were hopelessly outmatched by this new, and terrifying technology.
"Admiral! we've lost our coolant system! life support is failing and the reactor is near critical! we have to abandon ship sir!" a terrified CO at a nearby console gibbered as he held onto it for dear life.
"May the emperor save us," the Admiral muttered under his breath as he stumbled to the communications panel, pressing the intercom button to broadcast throughout the ship, "All hands to the life pods! Abandon ship!" no sooner had he finished that sentence, than the ship was rocked by another FTL-Powered Bullet, ripping through the viewing port of the ship, atmosphere instantly venting as the anti-gravity in that room was turned off and the door sealed, the crew now with no gravity in the bridge, flailed manically as they panicked clawing at their throats trying to breathe.
This war was going to be over very soon, thought the Admiral as he felt his body begin to freeze from the temperature, his lungs burning needing air, how could they ever hope to beat a race that was so blatantly insane? | 2018-02-18T13:13:13 | 2018-02-18T10:29:51 | 39 | 18 |
[WP] "Every 5000 years, the Dark Lord comes to destroy the world, and only you, the Chosen One can stop him." -said the priest. "So, do I need to get a magic sword from the Lady of the Lake?" - I asked "No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of" | "What, so that's it? Just push this button and bam, world saved?" I asked incredulously, slightly disappointed. Me, of all people, picked as the Chosen One of legend, and it's been hit by beuracracy?
"That's it." the priest answered with a wry smile
"Why am I even needed then? It's a button, anyone can push it! Even a dude without hands can push it with his face or whatever!" I questioned, throwing my arms up
"Look, it's still your job as Chosen One to stop the Dark Lord. We just found a sort of...loop hole the last time this happened. The last hero died, but he set things ***into motion*** for a success. So really, we figured we could stop the suffering and plan for 500 years. Get everything into place. Then you here, the big Chosen One, presses the button and everything falls into place one after another." the priest rattled off a scripted explanation, like he expected this to happen.
"Man, I can't believe this. I wanted the glory! The fame! The raw excitement!" I complained, sitting on the steps of the ornate church. The pews were the only thing in here besides the button and us two on the altar. I huffed out a sigh of frustration.
It was my absolute DREAM to become the Chosen One this time around. Fantasy video games were my niche, and imagining doing that in real life was any gamer's dream these days. I'd get my grand quest, make friends and allies, collect my amazing gear, maybe even meet a femme fatale along the way. And my *explosive and deadly* final battle with the Dark Lord himself!! For lack of a better word, it would be legendary.
"Well now now, it'll still be something of glory for you. We'll handsomely compensate you, give you your time in the limelight. Modern technology is vastly different from the 1500s, you'll be a superstar the world over!" the priest assured, patting my shoulder. He sounded like he was getting impatient
"Ooooh yeah just like every other nut on the internet, fifteen seconds of fame. Bullshit. Oh, uh, sorry for swearing." I griped, motioning my hands as if to show how great that was
"That's all right my son. In the end the world needs you, who knows how people will react?" the priest reasoned. I could hear his foot start to quietly tap on the altar tile.
"Yeah....well maybe I don't need it. I'm not pushing the button." I paused, coming to a deep realization. They needed **me** to do this, I had all the cards.
"WHAT?! M-my son, please. Think of your actions. The Dark Lord will rise within hours. You could be dooming us all!" the priest panicked, wringing his hands at me
"My Chosen One life, my chosen experience. Let's talk magic swords, eh?" I laughed, stepping up with a smirk and clapping the priest on his shoulder. I gave the button one last scowl and headed for the door, priest in tow. | My eyes darted to the button. Fixated on it. I took a deep breath as I slowly pushed my hand out towards the button.
All it takes in life to make the most difficult decisions is 20 seconds of faith...right?
As the button pushed in, my eyes slowly shut.
I opened my eyes to feel gears winding, cogs spinning, air blowing all around me.
"What is happening?!" - I fearfully asked.
"Just let it happen, let the air flow through you, believe in it" - bellowed the priest
A gush of wind raised my arms up by my side. Pushed on my back to raise me off the ground inch by inch. My eyes clenched shut. I was flying vertically. My body lay horizontally. Higher and higher. The cold wind raised me whilst my sweat dropped below me. I accepted it. I opened my eyes. Opened my hands. Palms faced out. The wind pushed my legs over my head. 100 feet above the ground. The priest looking up with pride.
**Whoooooosh**
The sword came from my left. Infront of my eyes. I saw my reflection in it's blade. Caught in my right hand. I grip it tight. I was in a free fall now.
The fear replaced by adrenaline. The doubt replaced with belief. I land down on my right knee. Sword in hand. The priest looks on at me.
"How do you feel?" - he asked, knowing the answer
I look up at him. I smirk.
"Let's put him to sleep for another 5000 years shall we?" | 2020-11-09T12:09:10 | 2020-11-09T10:15:58 | 161 | 118 |
[WP] A literary nerd wakes up in the middle of a poorly written story | The main problem was the food. Badly described food tastes like cardboard. I used to really enjoy good meals, not that I'd ever really pay attention to them - I was usually reading at the same time - but it's strange what you miss when it's not there. Now I just pour cereal out, balance the bowl on my knees and devour books earnestly to try and get rid of the overwhelming sensation of loss you get in a two dimensional world.
I'm sitting in a restaurant with my badly described wife, mourning over the fact that my wine tastes like ribena and my steak tastes like quorn because apparently this nightmare was written by a fifteen year old vegetarian. She's chewing something which I refuse to believe to be anything other than splotches of colour on a white plate and talking to me with her mouth full. There are no knives, because the narrator didn't describe knives.
"I just don't see why you're so upset." She says. So that's how the conversation is starting tonight. She has three opening phrases. One is this passive-aggresive shit, one is her worrying about my drinking and the third is where she sniffs and rolls away from me in disappointment as she pulls the sheets up to her neck.
"I'm really sorry Sophie. Can't we just enjoy the meal?" Her face scrunches up in worry. She's written as a nagging, argumentative bored housewife. It throws her off when I'm nice to her.
I think I have kids too, but the plot is so inconsistent that I'm not sure how old it is, what its name is, or even what gender it's supposed to be. I just know that my wife spends anywhere between sixteen and eighteen hours a day playing with it. It doesn't scream or cry or shit itself because, like I said, this story was written by a fifteen year old.
At the beginning I kept searching for a way back. I would scream and shout at my wife, call her names and break furniture. It would always go back to normal the next day though, whatever I did. I seemed to be trapped here.
I squeeze my wife's hand now and try not to look at the tables around us. The restaurant is full, but there are only four couples. They're copy-pasted over every table in the place. The waiters all look like a Frenchman described by someone who's never even seen a baguette. And the wine tastes like ribena.
"Yes Tony. Let's enjoy the meal." She goes back to chewing her food. I go back to looking desperately at my plate and wondering if a bit of pepper will do anything.
"How's our baby, Sophie?"
"She's doing well. She'll be talking soon. She has a tooth coming out."
"That's lovely, honey."
So I started writing. I've been a reader all my life. I always wanted to get sucked in to a book. Which one would it have been, if I had the choice? Something peaceful, green... Where I could wander in the open air. Not here, where the clouds repeat every six and every other tree is the same. It's hard to remember how real people act. I read parts aloud to my child when it and Sophie are asleep. I think it likes them.
I'm not unhappy. Not really. Despite everything, I've come to realise that it doesn't matter how badly my life is described. I smile up at my wife.
"Do you like your steak?" She asks
"It's delicious." I reply
After all, life is an adventure you write yourself. | My mouths dry. Christ, how long have I been asleep? There's that pounding in my head that tells you your nap went on overtime. I finally open my eyes and see that piece of shit plastic fan whirling unevenly. Follow the blades, round and round and round. Okay I'm up.
Turns out it's noon, or at least that's what the black and grey alarm clock on my desk tells me. Man my room is boring, bed, desk, bookshelf. This isn't me is it? I go to grab some food and realize it tastes bland. But it wasn't just that sandwich, it's everything. Why is my world so dull all of a sudden? Maybe I'm catching a cold, I feel a little lethargic. It feels a little surreal. Cold means I need to go to the pharmacy, I walk to the store noticing the streets are weirdly empty. Maybe I pass a dog with the tag saying spot, and maybe a slight breeze to rustle the leaves. Red car of no particular brand drives by, not that I notice. This doesn't feel real. This doesn't feel right. I just want to grab the medicine and go home, I'm so tired. Cashier looked awfully cheerful in that red polyester vest. Couldn't help but think of how average she looked. Where's that light in her eyes? Where's that light anywhere?
Finally I'm home, medicine doesn't seem to be helping and food still tasted like overprocessed plastic. I'm just going to bed. This world lacking adjectives and excitement can't be real. I've never felt so vacant, like I'd blow away in the wind. This is just a story, a dream, it'll be okay when I wake up.
7pm, I'm awake. It wasn't a dream. This is my reality. I'm trapped. | 2014-02-22T08:08:28 | 2014-02-22T07:43:15 | 136 | 12 |
[WP]You have been immortal,sent back in time 3000 years to America in that time, and now have a mega-empire covering the entire nation. One day British ships show up on shore | I am immortal. I am a time traveler. I have a great singing voice. Triple threat!
Immortality came first. Or it was already there, I suppose. I was born. I lived. I never died. And on and on this went, through many years and many centuries. At times I was a marvel! At times I was completely inconspicuous. I was legend here, a demon there. Etc. Etc.
I got around, is what I'm saying.
It was a little dull.
I saw nations rise and fall and rise again. I watched man discover electricity, nuclear power, and the tamagotchi. I saw man ascend into the stars and spread out across the universe. I saw the Sun die. I witnessed the Heat Death of All Things.
It was pretty heavy.
I assumed that was the end, which seemed fine. But then my mind went back and I thought "What If?" For the first time I considered the past and found myself *there*. Back in the past.
That first time I was thinking about an especially good slice of fried pizza I'd enjoyed at the Wisconsin State Fair in 2029. I went back and had it again. Win!
I could go back at will, however far I liked. I could never figure out how to go forward, though, except through the natural way. Now you wouldn't know this, but there's a reason you don't remember every little things - a lot of it's rubbish. Things like especially good slices of pizza are worth a second experience, but most things...most things are a bit trash, to be honest, and not worth sitting through twice.
So then I thought, let's try a thing.
I went back and did things differently. Big things. Bold things. Fun things. Things with elephants and jet skis.
I found that history was insanely malleable. Or maybe brittle is a better word. When you reshaped it big bits fell off all the time. Things that had happened didn't or wouldn't or couldn't. Disasters averted! Milestones missed! Celebrities - inventions - wars - popular brands of frozen pizza: all here, then not; not, then here.
It was a lot of fun, to be honest. I mean, I guess on some level, I eradicated a lot of people. They had been, and then they hadn't. But, on the other hand, I also created quite a bit of life, too. So...you know. Credit there. You might like your iPhones and your Ray Romanos and your Rhode Islands and your English muffin pizzas, but you don't know what was around the *last* time today happened. Or the time before. Or the time before. We used to have dolphins with legs. I mean...what the fuck, right?
I'm an American, I should say, although I've been just about everywhere (sorry, Newfoundland - one of these millennia, I swear). I spend most of my time here, so most of my work happens here. I'm very fiddly about the ol' USA, I guess. I like trying out a few new ideas here every run-through, though I couldn't tell you what I'm trying to end up with exactly. It's like there's some version of America at some point in time that is just the absolute *ideal*. I just don't know what that looks like quite yet.
I've made quite a few passes during the founding years of this great-ish nation. Anticipating the arrival of Columbus, I taught the natives how to make and use ninja throwing stars once. That...that didn't really accomplish very much. It was fun to watch, though. Later, I taught the natives how to disinfect free blankets. That didn't really work out, either.
I've fought in the Revolutionary War a buttload of times. If I'm being honest, it's kind of a fun war to do. Of course, I can't be killed, so you gotta take my perspective with a grain of salt. Still, it was a simpler kind of war, you know? You had the shitty rifles and the gross food and the little drummer boy who got shot like *immediately* every battle. Plus, here's the thing - I remember all the lives I've lived, all the way to the end; I just don't pay a ton of attention. I'm not exactly a walking Wikipedia or anything. I remember things about as well as your old Aunt Kathy trying to explain a Michael Bay movie. But I've been to *the end of time*, right? I've got *tactics*. Nobody else fighting in any version of the Revolutionary War has played Call of Duty before. Just me.
So that's fun.
And now we're here. 2017. This version of this world. I won't take credit for *everything*. I'm just one man, after all. But it's hard not to get a big head about things when I see just how much one man (me) can change. Thankfully, I'm a pretty benevolent scientist. I want things to be good. And hopefully, they'll just keep getting better.
Which is a roundabout way of saying, hey - if you don't like it right now, don't sweat it. Next time around, it'll be better. Or, more likely, you just won't exist. Either way, I can almost guarantee we'll get those dolphins with legs back. I'm *this* close... | The Amaranthine regarded the topknots of the approaching sails. Great hulking three-masts, larger even than their nation's war canoes, tossed through the Atlantic towards the very cliff he stood upon. Their cargo, he knew, threatened to crumble the foundation of Everything.
The Great Sun was yet young in the sky, making birth just over a dimlight horizon. Gusts of wind pitched the Amaranthine's long black hair behind him in a wild, wispy mane. He knew, too, the winds filled *their* sails with breath.
They would make landfall within the afternoon.
Queska the crab backed had fetched the Amaranthine with large opal eyes just before daybreak.
"Oh, Everlasting, I bid you follow," he'd said.
"Earth brother, what troubles your mind?" said the Amaranthine. His wives rustled beside him in a tangle of furs.
Queska looked at his god reverently.
"Your Tellings bear fruit. I bid you come see."
The Great Nation had trembled at his Telling. But the Amaranthine had tasted the dirt of the Earth and shuddered. An aftertaste of musk and peat. Salt and blood. With fire in his eyes, he'd bade the runners make haste. They bounded through the forests, waded through the rivers, spreading his Telling to every corner of the Great Nation.
"Prepare," they said in hushed whispers. "A Great Calamity draws near."
Queska kicked a rock off the cliff's edge. It clattered down, striking rock here and there before being swallowed by the churning of the salt waves.
"Everlasting, what do we do?" he asked. Fear webbed through his throat.
The Amaranthine closed his ancient eyes. For decades he had pondered this very question. From the very first moment the Earth salt had graced his tongue.
How could the Earth Mother birth such hateful creatures? he'd wondered. Were humans not all siblings of flesh and blood?
Yet, the Gods sought to test him. With everlasting life birthed, naturally, everlasting hardship. Great tests of resolve.
That night of the Telling, he'd wondered if his Nation had been raised strong enough. Had he instilled in them the tidings he felt in his timeworn bones?
"We bear them gifts and good tidings," he told Queska. "We greet them as brothers of the Earth. You know our bones are yet all alike."
Queska shuffled uneasily on his feet.
"Something yet troubles you Earth brother?"
"What if your Tellings whispered wholetruths? If they tote great sticks of devil fire?"
The Amaranthine breathed in the salt winds. He tasted the oceanwater, the slap of the waves on the approaching shipwoods. The Gods tested things other than spiritual resolve. They tested strength and ferocity. Your urge to protect all that was holy.
The Amaranthine sighed, then gave Queska a smile steeped in reassurance.
"Then we bid the runners fetch the cursed blankets," he said, winds billowing his great hair.
Queska swallowed and nodded, but the Amaranthine saw yet the fear. Together they stood in silence. That brief unworldly moment that inevitably comes before a soft push, a subliminal nudge, and uncontrollable forces are set in motion.
On the horizon, the fruits of the Great Telling pitched in the waves, drawing themselves closer and closer.
_________________________________
r/writerscrywhiskey
**Edit** P2 in the comments, P3+ will be posted to my sub. Thanks for the read & hope you enjoy :)
| 2017-07-06T07:15:11 | 2017-07-06T06:59:27 | 492 | 116 |
[WP] One morning, you wake up in a parallel universe. Nearly everything is exactly the same, and you go on with your life, unaware, for quite a while until you start noticing the horrifying differences. | "Oh my god," I said, clutching the dusty, plastic-wrapped book in both hands. "This is -" I looked over to Kirsten. "I must be in a parallel universe! This can't be right. The Berenstain Bears-?"
"Oh fuck off," Kirsten said instantly.
"No, I'm serious," I said, staring at the unfamiliar book cover. "I'm sure I would have remembered-"
"No, *I'm* serious," Kirsten said, and slapped the book out of my hands. I looked up at her in surprise. "I'm sick of this dumb bullshit where people pretend they're in a parallel dimension because of how a fucking children's book series is spelled! Yeah, sure, everything else is one hundred percent the same, you've been going your entire life without noticing, but just because this one little thing isn't exactly how you remember it, it has to be a parallel universe! I mean, it's someone's last name, you get that? How much of an entitled, self-absorbed prick do you have to be to insist to someone that they're spelling their own goddamn name wrong!"
"But-"
"No, shut up! You know why this happens, Sha? It's because the *truth* is a parallel universe. We don't grow up in the real world, none of us! We grow up inside our heads! The world is vast and complex and incomprehensible, and the only way for us to process it is to simplify it into a schema that makes sense for us. We grow up as kids, misunderstanding, simplifying, building our own little inhabitable bubbles. We were taught that Columbus sailed around the world and discovered that it was round. We were taught that racism ended with Martin Luther King. Then we grew up and discovered that Columbus was an idiot and a sex slaver, we saw unarmed black kids get shot dead and their murderers go free! We realize that the world is horrifying! This isn't the world we were taught we lived in! But it is what it is, Sha, it is what it is! And rather than start talking about some goddamn Berenstain-Berenstein parallel universes, we have to adapt our understanding, we have to live in this world as best we can!"
I stood aback for a second, watching her breathing normalize. "Uh, Kirsten," I said, picking the book up and showing her the cover. "I wasn't talking about spelling. I was going to say, *The Berenstain Bears Holy Bible*? That can't be right."
"Oh," she said, her face returning to its usual complexion. She waved it away. "That's totally a thing. They passed the franchise off to their son. He's a hardcore Christian. There are a million of those things now."
I looked at the cover of the book again. "Oh," I said. | "What do you mean Harambe is dead!?" I screamed, tears streaming down my face as I angrily shouted at the man in front of me.
"Not this again..." he muttered, as he pushed me out of the enclosure. "Look, we've had it with you and you memers always coming up to this zoo and making a joke out of this, can you just leave us in peace?"
"Me? Making a joke! It's you that's joking! Harambe can't be dead! He is eternal! He is our god!" I shouted.
"Urgh, dude. Just stop this isn't funny anymore." the man replied as he locked the gate to the zoo, leaving me stranded in front of the main entrance.
I screamed in fury, it couldn't be our beloved gorilla, the pride of our world- dead!? That's when it clicked, it couldn't be... no, but it all made sense. Why there was only one sun in the sky during the day, why no one from any other planet visited us- this wasn't my universe! I slammed my third fist down onto the palm of my fourth green hand in anger. Why didn't I notice this sooner!?
Edit: Minor text fixes | 2016-09-03T07:37:58 | 2016-09-03T06:55:58 | 141 | 59 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D | Dear E,
I love you. Not the cheesy love I felt in high school, and not the way I love the woman I think I'm going to marry, but you hold a place in my heart that no one else can.
We were destructive. We weren't good for each other. You were emotionally abusive, and I was amazed a pretty girl would give me the time of day. I was putty in your hands, and you took advantage of that to the fullest. I had my faults too, but you put the nail in the coffin.
Then you got kicked out of school. You moved in with another guy and confided in me about your relationship problems. I, a guy who cares too much and tries too hard, was more than willing to stay up until the wee hours listening to you and solving the problems of a relationship I had no part in. We might have been a thunderstorm, but he was a hurricane. You kept seeing him, and kept coming to me for advice. I conceded.
Then the accident happened.
You were going too fast. You hit a puddle. You couldn't keep from swerving into the other lane. You survived, but not without some brain damage.
I remember speeding to the hospital and seeing him. The man who was the vehicle to this lifestyle that put you here.
The man whose smile was as crooked as your front bumper when I saw your car in the junkyard. It was the first time I recall feeling genuine hate. The first time I wanted someone to die. To change places with you.
The next few months you'll never remember. You were in a coma. You were in rehab. You couldn't speak. You couldn't eat. I was there every other day, spending hours with you, watching movies with the husk of a person I once knew.
But you improved. Your brain damage wasn't as bad as they thought, but it changed you. You became frustrated. You would lash out at me due to your brain's lack of ability to filter. You'd hit me. I remained there. I taught you to count again. I taught you colors. I taught you the parts of your face. I fed you your first solid meal.
Then college came. Then I realized that things would never be the same. That as much as I cared for you, I had to move on, and so did you. You were recovered to the best that you would be, and you were moving out on your own.
You have a baby now. You have a boyfriend. I have a woman by my side who I love dearly. There's no trace of romantic feelings whatsoever, but I'll always remember our time together. I'll always care for you deeply. You'll always be the one who taught me what caring for people really means.
You'll never remember what I did. You'll never remember learning colors or numbers or eating your first meal from a spoon I was holding.
I think I like it better that way.
We were a thunderstorm, but the skies are clear now.
| Dear Violet
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I didn't tell you how I felt about you. I was always nervous when it came to girls, you of all people should remember that.
I'm sorry I didn't hang out with you more. I always thought I would have time later, but I never made time for it.
I'm sorry I didn't dance with you at prom. I know I promised you that I would, but you looked like you were having fun with your new boyfriend and I didn't want to ruin it.
I'm sorry wasn't there when you needed help moving out. It all happened so fast with you and Mike breaking up and getting back together again so much, I didn't think it would stick that time.
I'm sorry that I didn't get to say goodbye when you left. I didn't think you'd leave without telling me.
For as long as I have know you, you've always been the friend that awkward, nerdy kid needed. I probably wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. I mean it. I wasn't in a good place before I met you.It may not have been under the best circumstances that we became friends, but I wouldn't have had it any other way.
I don't know if you'll feel the same way, or if this is the right time to say it and I have no idea how else to say this so I'll just say it.
Violet Brindley
I love you.
Yours Truly
Tim
| 2015-12-05T16:37:50 | 2015-12-05T15:49:55 | 94 | 11 |
[WP] Finishes with "May I start over?" | "I don't think you understand, this is not a joke!"
"No? Because it sounds like a fucking joke! You're talking like a schizophrenic psycho or something!"
"Aaargh will you just listen for once in your fucking life! God damn no wonder Julia broke up with you."
"..What the fuck are you talking about!? Julia and I are moving in together in a week! Are you actually going insane?"
"Ah shit I thought it was April already. I didn't mean to tell you that but this is what I'm talking about! I know exactly what going to happen in the next two months. You and Julia are going to move in together, she's going to dump you, and you're going to do something very very ba..... oh my God.. Maybe that's why this is happening..."
"What? What the fuck are you talking about?! Why would Julia break up with me?? What am I going to do? You're really freaking me out here man!"
"I need to stop you... Maybe if I stop you, I won't go back again..."
"Dude, are you actually serious with this shit? What am I going to d.... what are you doing with that gun... why the FUCK are holding a gun!!!! Cut this shit out I swear to god this isn't funny!!"
"I'm sorry.. I have to do it.. I've done this 6 times now and I'm starting to get really sick of February."
"Dude stop! Listen I'll do whatever you want okay? I promise I won't do whatever I'm going to do, I swear! Ohh god please don't do this, please god don't do this, I swear I'll do whatever you say! Just please stop!"
"There's no other way.. I tried to talk you out of it before, I just never realized how important it is. I don't want to do this to you but I need to try something. I've lived the first half of this year 6 times already and it's getting pretty frustrating. Don't worry though, if this is what I need to do, everything will be fine. If it's not, then at the end of May, I start over." | 'May I start over' the words reverberated through him, no now, her. The newborn baby let out a small inaudible sigh. The man saw his memories drift away like dew on morning roses, his love, crimes, treason, hate, schooling, knowledge, ability to talk, crawling, all gone. The baby girl smiled feebly at her mother knowing she'd have no access to her old knowledge after this. The baby was put through tests as the memories faded away, leading up to a large white gate. Hitler asked the Lord, "May I start over?" | 2013-09-01T08:23:34 | 2013-09-01T06:51:01 | 43 | 17 |
[WP] The villain is asked by their child to deal with the monster in the closet. | I smiled at my wife, embracing her tightly, though with as much care not to crush her with my armour still on.
"Take it off," She whispered. "I want to *feel* the real you underneath."
"Very well," I replied equally as quietly. With my telepathic abilities, the armour removed itself slowly, landing on the empty tabletop, leaving me standing in a woolly jumper and trousers. I kissed her on the mouth, whilst my hands released my golden cape from my back, letting it drop to the ground. "I've missed you."
Her warm hands held me securely. "We've missed you, too, more than you know." Our lips touched one more time, whilst we held each other possessively. Then she pulled away, trailing her fingernails down my chest. "Alyssa wants to see you before she falls asleep."
I nodded. "Understood." I couldn't take my eyes off of my wife. Gorgeous as she was smart, cunning...kind.
"So go on up there so I can have more time with you down here," She said, pushing me toward the stairs. She sounded commanding, but there was a playful twinkle in her eyes.
"Yes, ma'am."
Alyssa had the door ajar, and when I knocked, immediately she welcomed me in. She was already in bed, bags hanging under her eyes, cuddled up with two of her favourite stuffed animals.
"Hey sweetie," I smiled, sitting down on the edge of your bed. "You're up late. Everything okay?"
Alyssa's answer made me smirk. Her sass came from her mother. "You're back late."
"Yeah," I grimaced, scratching behind the back of my head. "Sorry about that. Police trouble."
"You look hurt."
"You should see them." I winked. She knew exactly what I meant. "Alright, what book are we reading tonight?" I looked across at the small pile of children's books that sat next to her.
Alyssa's face hardened. "Not tonight, daddy."
I frowned. "What's wrong?"
I followed her gaze to her closet. Whilst Alyssa's life was far from normal, her bedroom was that of any stereotypical girl's. The walls were pink with flowers painted on, there were dolls, unicorns, and there was an enormous dollhouse filled with a sweet family of toy mice doing human things.
The closet remained untouched.
"The monster's in there."
"What?"
"He's been watching me since last," Alyssa whimpered. "Every time you leave, he opens the closet a little, and waves at me. I don't like it. I don't like *him*." Her voice wavered. "I want you to get rid of him."
"Sweetie, I promise you there isn't anything in there," I said comfortingly, rising to my feet, moving toward the closet. "All children your age are all worried about this. It's natural - it's dark and scary, and sometimes your mind plays tricks on you. But it's okay, because I'm going to show you there's only your clothes in your closet, okay?" I gripped the closet handle, ensuring that Alyssa was watching. I opened it slowly, revealing a line of casual and schoolwear, as well as a blanket for when winter crept along. "Do you see, sweetie? There's no monster in the closet waiting to get you." I poked my head round the corner of the closet, where my daughter couldn't see from her bed. There he was - the monster with his butcher's knife. My blood boiled, and whilst I restrained my eyes from turning entirely red, they hinted at the pain to come for the man just by the heat they emitted. "No one's going to hurt you, baby." The fear in the man's eyes was the brightest thing in the room. "No one at all."
I could hear it now. Local mental patient gone missing - all eyes focused on me. But why the fuck should I care? | Small background: The villain took a young girl as his successor. She had a bad family and he knew she’d be safer with him. Evee doesn’t agree.
Evee looked up at Henry with big, pleading eyes. She held Mr Sharky to her chest for safety, making herself look small. “Papa, can you sleep with me tonight?” She asked quietly. She brought her knees up to her chest under the covers to curl into a ball.
Henry paused at the door, unable to move after hearing his child’s plea. It was time for bed. Usually, after putting Evee to sleep, he’d go out for crime. However, when was the last time she *asked* for Henry? Actually, had she ever done that before?
Taking this as a huge milestone, Henry nodded. He needed to play it cool. The villain walked back to his daughters bed. It was… small, and pushed against the wall. “Uh-“ He puzzled over how he’d fit for a moment. Maybe he could sleep against the wall to prop himself up and not fall off.
Henry smiled awkwardly as he tried to get into bed. Evee looked up at him as he tried to crawl under the covers. She saw he was trying to lean against the wall and yelled at him. “No! That’s my side!” She cried, pushing against his chest. She quickly wriggled to the side to lay against the wall.
Nightmare sighed and laid down on the other side of the bed. It was very awkward. The sheets only went a few inches past his knees. His feet hung over the edge of the bed. The Goliath of a man had to curl up in the twin bed to try and fit.
Henry smiled at Evee, trying to hide his discomfort. “Okay. Time for bed.”
Evee shook her head. “No. I need to wait for the monster.” She laid down with Mr Sharky and pretended to fall asleep. Henry could see her peak one eye open.
Henry smiled, confused. “The monster?” It clicked in his head. “Oh. The monster! Do you want me to fight him?” He looked over his shoulder at the closet. The doors were wide open. “Oh, Ladybug, if you are scared of the monster, you can close your closet doors. That way he can’t escape.” | 2022-10-24T12:14:27 | 2022-10-24T09:20:36 | 24 | 14 |
[WP] In this world, the truly dedicated can develop a mundane skill to the point of becoming a reality-breaking superpower. You have mastered procrastination to this level.
Quick note (trying to be helpful for anyone who doesn't know):
Procrastination is putting things off until later. | George sat down at the computer with a cold ham and cheese sandwich and a flagon of wine.
It was finally time. He stroked his beard complacently and took a swig from the silver flagon engraved with spiraling dragons. It had been a gift from a fan.
For the first time in six years, he touched the keyboard and began to type.
*Jon's body lay lifeless in the cold snow.*
He reread the line. Cold snow? Wasn't all snow *cold*? He backspaced, and tried again.
*The 998th Lord Commander, Jon Snow lay pale and lifeless amidst the snow.*
He hated it. For one, the sentence said snow twice. Again, he backspaced the entire line.
Six years. It had been six years since he had written a single word he was pleased with.
He was getting bombarded with calls from HBO writers and executives. Assaulted by emails and letters from restless fans. He'd even had one man show up at his doorstep and ask him "what's the fucking deal, Martin?"
Still, the royalties were coming steady. The previous books were more popular than ever, and HBO paid a great deal for his intellectual property whether it was on paper or not.
He decided he would try again. He stared at the blank Notepad application open on the screen titled *The Winds of Winter* and waited for the Muse to return.
He looked away from the screen, from the keyboard, and began typing. Yes. Yes, that was it. The words were flowing freely now! After a few moments he looked back at his screen to see what masterpiece he had created.
*flgjkdneksndbi bdidnd psoorbd jeiej.*
"Damnit!" George shouted and took another swig of wine.
He was getting sleepy now. Perhaps he would take a nap. Yes, a little shut eye, and he would return tomorrow well-rested and inspiration abound.
That was it. He would start tomorrow. | It was the perfect opportunity to break the spell, begin writing, let the demons loose.
The topic ideal.
He promised he'd come back to it later.. edit this line, write the story of his broken life and the future where he hoped he'd have put back the pieces. | 2017-09-27T06:40:05 | 2017-09-27T06:19:51 | 519 | 39 |
[WP] You obtain a device that tells you exactly what choices to make in order to lead the "happiest" life possible. Some of these choices get hard to make. | The App's tagline was: "**We'll get you where you where you want to go.**"
It had offered Consolidation, Confidence, Closure, Peace.
He entered his choice.
"*No.*"
and The App went to work. A single tap and it had accessed his life.
His accounts,his cloud storage and accounts, his social media presence. The entirety of what there was to know about him, the app burrowed into and went to work. It knew everything.
It had begun to, slowly, deliver.
He'd woken up from a bought of night-sweats to a text to speech voice reading something. An email from his father. Emails from his friends. Contacts that had gone dark over the years. Contacts he'd lost the strength to pick up as they'd started falling through his fingers.
It had reached out. It had shouldered that crushing, anxious weight for him.
It had told them everything. It had put words to the hole that he'd seen open up in his life and let others see it.
They'd started reaching back out. They'd started calling when he hadn't responded. The App started picking up for him, without prompting.
The App had started displaying prompts for what to say to give substance to his fall, to give reality to what had been a crisis that he'd only been able to manage through self medication.
And they'd listened as he read the prompts. They didn't hear his cursing and screaming at them when the effort of defying addition was too much. The app muted those outbursts. Censored his texts. Edited his emails. Caught him when he fell and made sure others were there.
Like the EMT team it had dialed during that cold December night. When he'd looked at the prompt and hit the "*No.*" option before drifting to sleep in the snow in an opiate haze.
Hitting "*No.*"' was easy.
Every time he hit "*No*." The App did the heavy, difficult lifting while he built strength recovering from falling down, Did what it could to fix things. Make them right again.
It had downloaded a N.A. program. It showed his days in recovery.
0.
30.
60.
120
240.
0.
Even then it had managed to be there for him, waiting for the choice.
"*No*".
Again.
30.
Constant check ins from people in his contacts, messages all about finding that center he'd lost.
60.
Videos about recovery emailed daily.
120.
Testimonials and documentaries waiting for him when he was alone and the itch began.
240.
Appointment reminders for support groups he'd never looked into. Meetings it had made for him. Calls from sponsors he'd never reached out to.
480.
He was making it.
The App had delivered.
Peace was not easy. The road to Peace was heavy, smothering, exhausting.
The App was there for him during the steps. Every step towards clearing the road. Sweeping away the debris.
Cleaning his life. Cleaning his body. Tracking his steps. Displaying his GPS location. Watching where he went. How long he stayed. Who he was near.
Making sure he if he tasted something else, something darker, something sharp and unconcerned, that it was ready.
0.
It reached out. He hadn't answered.
It had been letting him know that he had put every effort in.
It knew how difficult it was.
"*No*."
0.
It had known where he was.
It had followed his failures.
It had been letting him try.
It had directed him to the bridge. To face east. To watch the sun come up. To try the metaphor, the warmth, the rebirth, one more time.
It displayed the prompt. The choice.
The choice he knew would bring peace.
The choice he had been answering "*No.*" to.
"**Are you Ready?**"
*"Yes."*
The prompt continued for the first time since he'd activated The App.
"**Put me down.**"
"**Breath.**"
"**Remove your shoes.**"
"**Jump.**"
| The artifact the old man gave me seemed more like a rock than anything mystical at the time, that was until I touched it.
On contact I was filled with knowledge, maybe even premonitions that never came.
The first thing I learned was that I should put down the artifact and leave it, but that was something I couldn't do. After all, it showed me a world filled with euphoria, peace, and joy. As long as I held the stone, I would know what decision would lead to the best outcome for my happiest.
The choices were simple at first, turn left on the street instead of right, don't buy from that hotdog stand, and take a different route home.
I even met my wife because of the artifact. I was in a bar and I just knew who I should talk to, literal love at first sight.
But then life became boring. I started to enjoy browsing dank memes more than going on pleasant strolls, and thats when I found it 4chan.
The website seemed innocently stupid on the surface, but deep down inside, it changed. After a wicked trap thread, I found my first gore thread. It was something I had encountered, and it was exhilarating! I could feel my heartbeat raise, and the adrenaline pump.
After a nasty video of a woman being beat with a shovel I thought I should stop, but I knew I should stay. After that, I was always told to watch gore, for months this persisted, until... well...
I was standing in line at a bank, on my phone, browsing a gore thread. I was bored out of my mind, but the little voice in my head said It would be good for me to go here, so I followed.
Eventually there was one person in front of me, a woman so annoying she had to talk to the manager. After five minutes of waiting for this dumb bitch, and watching gore the voice said it.
"Kill her"
What!? No! right? I was lost... I knew I wanted to, I knew I would take great pleasure, but I didn't know if I could... or... no!
I ran out of the bank, and strait home to my wife.
I killed her obviously, and it was **GREAT!** Then my son, and daughter.
I'm actually disposing of them right now... well cutting them up so I can flush them.
And I have to say, I've never been happier.
___________________________________________
**If enjoyed reading this, check out my other work at /r/Alduit or [my free horror ebook](https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/631467).** | 2016-05-05T08:20:03 | 2016-05-05T04:51:37 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] "Invade your planet?!" The alien asks a general of Earth with confusion before bursting into laughter. "Why the heck would we do that when their are SEVEN other empty planets in this star system ripe for terraforming and colonization? We just stopped by to say Hi while we pick one of 'em out." | The General's face remained unchanged. Unflinching. Resolute.
But at the back of his mind, something about what had just been said did not sit right with him.
"So you mean to say that this 'first contact' of yours is a warning?" questioned the Admiral from the other side of the conference table.
"A warning? Of course not!", gasped the voice, something oddly sweet in the way it spoke. "Our species is very forth-coming! We merely wished to express our excitement at having yet another sentient species to engage in commerce with!"
The General glanced at the intercom, where a soft red light blipped every few seconds. On the other end of that line, the United Nations listened in on the exchange; representatives of the world's great nations had gathered together, with him bearing the responsibility of messenger to an unknown race.
"Just to clarify, you have no interest in our planet?", asked the Chief Air Marshall, looking to clarify these Newcomers' extraterrestrial intent.
"As we've said, there's SEVEN other planets in your solar system that we could choose from!"
There it was again, that gut feeling that something seemed off.
Hesitantly, the General looked to his left. The Admiral was leaning in his chair, whispering something to the Chief Air Marshall, which would make for a rather unusual scene in just about any other setting. Something told the General those whispered words were not of the peaceful variety, and he hoped it wouldn't come to that.
"And what exactly is it in this solar system that interests you?", asked one of the younger Major Generals in the room.
The question was followed by a pause.
"We require new space to expand to! The system from which we come is much smaller, and has reached capacity!" replied the voice, sickeningly sweet.
For sure this time, the General thought these were honeyed words.
"Any one of the SEVEN planets will do!"
And then it clicked.
"Why do you keep saying that?" asked the General, his voice direct and commanding.
"...We do not understand. Keep saying what?"
Though he couldn't see their faces, through decades of political squabble, the General knew the sound of a voice laced with malicious intent.
"Seven. You keep saying seven planets."
The voice came slowly this time, only further straining the impossibly sweet sounding voice.
"Your species identifies eight objects including the Earth as planetary, does it not? In accordance to our research, the one designated 'Pluto' you do not consider a planet."
The General looked down at the manifesto before him, a pile of documents that contained various tidbits of information ranging from command codes and emergency signals, to documented spaces and vectors within the solar system that might indicate the location of potential celestial objects.
And somewhere in this pile was what he was looking for.
Pulling a rather unassuming portfolio out, he opened it before stopping at one of the indexed pages.
"It is indeed common knowledge among our species that there are eight planets, with Pluto no longer being considered as the ninth", stated the General. "So it seems rather moot to continously remind us of that exact figure."
"...Yes, so as we wished to-" began the alien, before being abruptly cut off.
"I'm not finished."
The General turned a page in the file before him before continuing.
"It has been widely discussed among the great minds of our species about the possibility of a ninth planet, that exists beyond our scope of vision. We've never, of course, been able to pin-point where it would be, should it exist, but perhaps directing this question at you for proof would suffice."
The General looked up from the document, and fixated his eyes on the monitor at the front of the room that served as the central line of communication to the newcomers above.
"The only reason I can think of you consistently mentioning the other SEVEN planets we have is to hide the existence of an EIGHTH one."
Around the room individuals began to mutter. The Admiral seemed lost in thought, his eyebrows furrowed, while the Chief Air Marshall was now frantically whispering to the Space Force General. Several of the Major Generals and Lieutenant Generals were shifting in their seats, everyone sensing that wind of change.
The General cleared his throat.
"So I ask you now, is there a planet we do not know about?"
The was a long, anxious pause, as on the communication line alien words were exchanged, a guttural language that was anything but sweet, so unlike the tone from minutes ago. The noise was almost frantic, before what could only be described as a muddled sigh was heard.
"Yes."
Notably, the words were not honeyed. The room went quiet. The General looked around, and was met by the gaze of everyone else in the room.
He took a deep breath.
"Where is the ninth planet?" | The 4th degree Honorable Interlocutor of the Zafran Federation Bliqwa re-shielded its ocular pits briefly while the pink aliens screeched hot oxygen and hooted. It breathed in a gust of methane from its side-port while pressing a 4th manipulator knuckle to the stress relief pressure point on the upper part of their golf ball textured cranium, waiting for the translator to catch up with the alien’s loud noises. Bliqwa flared its mandibular fringe and nodded politely before continuing the conversation with the heavily-sweating Gener’al Pra-Shet.
“Again, we have no interest in invading your lovely dirt ball. We just thought it would be neighborly to stop by and let you know we will be terraforming one planet over,” Bliqwa gurgled.
“It’s a ....real fixer-upper as you probably know.” Bliqwa paused to admire its own clever preprogrammed usage of comforting colloquial phrases and let the translation unit catch-up before continuing.
“We will try to keep the sound waves dampened, but the atmospheric matter converter might be a little noisy for the next few solar cycles as it sucks up all the extra refuse material floating around the solar system. Your planet will see fewer astroid events, but that’s probably for the best considering how often your species has historically fallen to pieces over seeing a few extra lights in the sky,” Bliqwa said jovially, rippling its mandibular fringe and blowing a methane bubble to approximate the light-hearted sound known as laughter for the nervous pink aliens. They clustered more tightly.
The pink aliens all silently swiveled their top bulbs to point their ocular orbs at one another, and then the one named Gener’al Pra-Shet hooted out something else, in a softer tone this time.
Bliqwa checked its translator for error after the message cycled, then answered. “No, we do not require any outside labor importation, the Zarfan Federation uses...,” Bliqwa paused to read The flashing warning about the terms ‘slave’ and ‘artificial intelligence.’
“...robots for detail work,” it finished.
The cluster of pink aliens seemed to loosen a bit after the translation sounded. Then a slender youngling alien in the back row piped up with a few hoots that drew aggressive top bulb swivels and response hoots in its direction, causing it to immediately shrink back and lower its top bulb. Bliqwa made a mental note to research what the rank of ‘INTERN” meant later. The pink aliens turned their back to the Zarfan as the translator delivered the youngling’s question to await an answer.
Sigh.
“No, we STILL do not have any interest in your waste ejectors, thank you?”
Bliqwa’s manipulator knuckles found its stress relief point again. This was why the Zafran Nation only ever sent 4th degree or lower Honorable Interlocutors to deal with these dirt ball dwellers. These interactions always eventually circled back to the idea of anal probes with them. | 2020-12-07T07:25:46 | 2020-12-07T06:43:15 | 46 | 20 |
[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… | At the age of 14, all children are lined up and sent into the "Eternity Chamber" built by one of the founders and pioneers of the Power Attainment Information of the Nation (or P.A.I.N) for short. They have built this chamber to assess and safely test all powers plausible and insert the perfect job for said powers to prevent society from collapsing.
This, was the worst day, for everyone else, as I walked into the chamber and began awaiting what manual of powers was going to be thrown at me.
*Don't. Be. A. Hero.*
*You have been granted the power of pushing back against the order. You are to restore balance and shatter the peace and idea of order. To put things back into balance, chaos must exist for order to have meaning.*
I froze in place, was this a joke? I was waiting for the chamber, someone, anyone, I needed reassurance, but received none.
*Your powers have already begun to take form, be ready, and use your brain. You're going to become incredible and very important within this role. Do not fail, and Do NOT be a hero.*
As those last words rang out, alarms began buzzing, and guards swarmed the room. I was held at gunpoint and heard the triggers squeeze. Everything slowed down, the bullets, the sounds, everything. I was nearly paralyzed and dropped to my knees in fear. The world got faster, and those bullets all missed me and hit the other guards in the crossfire. I ended six different lives by proxy. My body started screaming at me to run, to escape, and so I did. By some sheer luck, things went my way, doors being jammed open, other guards being unusually inept, I had made it out with my life.
I couldn't go home, I couldn't go to my family, my mom, my dad, my friends. They had some of their "professional heroes" staked out. I was ostracized and outed from this society, and when that hit, I began to cry; Like a newborn for their mother, I was alone. Those horrible words *Don't be a hero* echoed once again, and I felt my body become oddly calm. I walked to the nearest convenience store, took some snacks, and walked out without paying. I was destined to one day, bring a level of chaos to the amount of order created...I gotta start somewhere I guess. | They say curiosity killed the cat. Well I'm curious about the restriction placed on me. I look in the mirror and don't even recognize my own face. My health is fading and I don't know why.
Saw a rainbow yesterday, which was nice. Life's been 10 shades of gray since I got the warning for my power. I just want pray the ten shades go away. Too many chances I've blew to take charge and begin my life anew.
To reach out for the people trapped in the misery. We all blame this day and age when we are in fact prisoners of our own mind.
I set out into the forest. Forging along the rivers and lakes I'm used to. Until finally a break in the path. A dire warning remembered. "Don't go chasing waterfalls." To the left safety, to the right the danger ive been avoiding. I sigh and step to the right. | 2022-05-08T09:53:03 | 2022-05-08T08:50:28 | 197 | 63 |
[WP] Death has hourglasses for every person. One day, during a cleaning, he found a dust covered one that had rolled under his desk. | The hourglass had rolled to its side, its content perfectly balanced on both sides, a potential eternity in the shape of a few still grains of sand.
Death rolled it between his fingers, the dry, bleached bones clicking against dusty, bubbly glass. The sand inside was a dark, coarse thing, tinged with the black of volcanic ashes and the red of granit dust, clumped by time. Next to it, vivid contrast, is the crystalline emptiness of Death own hourglass.
That thing was Ancient, even for Death, and it's with something akin to reverence that he laid it on his desk, carefully maintaining its balance on the side. It's so old than the name carved on the bronze plaque has disappeared under the dust. Never had such a thing happened before to him, not in this unlife nor in any others, for Death had already lived many existences and would carry on living many others through worlds and time, He the Reaper that existed in the cusp of eternity.
Again the tapping of bones against glass and a sound that could have been a sigh. Who could it be, and what would have become of them ? Someone that had lived for so long, nearly as long as himself, someone that had experienced everything life had to offer but never had to pay the price of mortality for it. Would he find a king, his will unyielding and forged through millenias of ruling, or a beggar, crazed by an unending existence of loss and misery ?
Since the beginning the pact had been simple. They would be born and live, wax and wane out of existence and always Death would be there at the end, but this time there had not been any end, at least so far. With a shrug, Death went on to collect what he was owed.
&#x200B;
Grass under his heels and the heavy buzzing of bees welcoming him. The garden was lush with life, teeming with the sounds and the exuberancy of Nature nurtured. A work unending but a reward in itself, as Death took in the trees basking in the sun, the almost cloying scent of flowers still damp from some previous rain, and the small silhouette in the clearing, waiting near a table.
&#x200B;
" I had been waiting for so long, I thought it would never happen but you are here, finally. Tell me, do we have time for tea ?"
&#x200B;
The man pulls out a chair and Death sits. It's not uncommon to have people try to negociate with him, to coax him into relenting but the warm smile is sincere, devoid of any duplicity. Death feels welcome here, in this haven of peace and life and so he sits and contemplate his duty as the man starts to fuss around them.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
The face is ageless but the hands aren't, worn and twisted by work but still strong as the man deftly pours tea in mismatched cups. A bee, more curious than others land near a pot filled with honey and he gently shoos it away, using a dollop of the sweet nectar to distract it.
Once done the man sits, facing Death, lifting his cup in wordless cheer among the garden. Together they drink in silence, the man peaceful in front of his Death. Then they talk, for hours, for ages, sky and sun and stars dancing among them, and Death revels in this unusual sensation, of having someone made so similar to him by a mere twist of Fate. In this place, made almost perfect in its natural beauty where time has all but lost its sense Death takes a decision.
&#x200B;
" I have only come for tea, and a chat. You know how eternity can be long sometimes."
Wordlessly the man nods
" But I will come back in your garden, if you allow it ?"
&#x200B;
" Of course, my friend, you will always be welcome."
&#x200B;
On top of Death desk sits a dusty hourglass, laying on its side, untouched. The name on the plaque has long disappeared but if one day someone was to ask whose it is, Death would only answer
&#x200B;
" A Friend."
&#x200B;
I hope I didn't make too many mistakes as english isn't my first langage. Thanks for reading !
Edit: First of all, thank you for the Gold, kind Redditor !
Second, I edited a few typos that were pointed out to me, so than you again | "Oh my", Said Death. Underneath the very large dark desk he found a life.
He picked up the dusty vessel and turned it around in his bony hands. One of the downsides of not having skin, he decided, was that it was a bother getting dust off placards.
This was not good. Well, not that it was bad per say but most certainly embarrassing. What would the other Death's say?
He remembered how the community had snickered behind the spine of Death of central Europe. Pop culture today was still rich with the myth of immortal creatures hailing from the region. It wasn't really his fault though, even the best of skulls grow confused with age. And there had been a lot more lives to keep track of at the time.
Why had he not noticed one missing? He looked through his lives every day and there was none missing from the library.
He double checked the large century glass on the large desk just to make sure he hadn't overslept. Sleep was a vague phrase for someone that isn't in need of it but it is difficult to break the lingual habits no matter how long since you were a human.
The time seemed in order so the life he found had been under there for a very long time. Skeletons produce very little dust after all and he was adamant that the horses did not enter the cottage.
"I shall have to deal with this right away I suppose", he sighed in such a way as only an undead skeleton could. More of the general gesture of a sigh but still audible.
It was strange that STYX hadn't noticed it. After a well known case of a mummy and then Transylvania they had been forced to keep the paperwork in three copies. The light purple colored one for the local Death, the bleak daffodil colored one for the soul to travel with and then of course the watered out coffee colored one sent in to STYX.
He looked at the roman numerals on the life he had found. In disbelief he went to fetch a large book.
He placed the book on top of the one that were already on the desk and looked through the pages looking for the number. One of the downsides of not having skin, he decided, was flipping though paper pages in a large black book.
He found the number on one of the pages and looked at the text accompanying it. He would have raised her eyebrows had she had any.
The text simply said: Current location city of Goldau in the community of Arth, canton of Schwyz, Switzerland. Last relocation September 2, 1806.
"Oh boy, the landslide", he said while grabbing his scythe and quickly walking out to the stables, "This one is going to be Very annoyed with the delay."
At least he now knew why no stories about an immortal creature had surfaced from his division.
40,000,000 cubic meters of material takes a long time to dig oneself out of. | 2018-10-03T06:28:38 | 2018-10-03T06:25:35 | 1,464 | 110 |
[WP] Most wannabe dark lords conquer tribes of monsters to control them. You, however, conquered them so that you could form a union and hire them out to other dark lords via contractual work. | "Alright, alright, you can have your... maternity leave." Archking Wyst frowned at the Frankenstein's monster. "Seriously? Maternity leave? You guys get pregnant? How the hell does that work?"
"With great difficulty," the Frankenstein's monster rumbled. "Thank you for your consideration."
"Eh, whatever. Send the next person/golem/spirit/timeless godling from beyond the stars in when you leave, 'kay?" Archking Wyst shooed the Frankenstein's monster out the grand double doors to his obsidian throne room. He sighed in relief and massaged his forehead. It wasn't as though he disliked his job. He ruled over a decently sized nation, and had subjugated nine others as vassals or puppet states beneath his. But every now and then—
"Archking Wyst!" A group of orcs marched in through the doors, and Wyst refrained from groaning. Weren't all the orcs supposed to be in Bel-tatten, working under Lich-Lord Jeyerevan? "I am Raghann McKree, and I represent the Orcish Jade Platoon! In the name of our company, I would like to register grievances against Lich-Lord Jeyerevan!"
"Oh?" Archking Wyst rubbed his eyes. It was too late in the day for this. "What sort of grievances would these be?"
"Well... he's making us paint ourselves with mud, to frighten our enemies into submission. It's very demeaning, not to mention unhygenic. And besides, orcs haven't used war-paints in over two hundred years."
"Mhm." Archking Wyst nodded and tried to look kingly.
"And he's having us kill every last enemy soldier we can get our hands on, regardless of whether they've surrendered or not! It's just making the enemy fight to the last man, and we're taking heavy casualties because of it!"
"Thankfully, Lich-Lord Jeyerevan's lack of good tactical sense is not my problem. In fact, it is exactly how I conquered the Undying Lichdom in the first place."
"And we think he's getting us killed on purpose. He's raising our dead," Raghann finished.
Immediately, Archking Wyst's eyes snapped open. "That's a breach of contract."
Raghann's eyes glimmered with an inner fire. "It's a perversion of nature."
"That's what I said." Archking Wyst stood, and his obsidian throne suddenly seemed a lot less tacky and a lot more befitting of a man who had made immortals and kings bow to his will. "Maybe it's time Jeyerevan and I had a little... renegotiation."
He held out his hand, and swirls of smoke coalesced into a grand staff. He pounded it on the floor once and shouted, "Lich-Lord Jeyerevan! I would speak to you!"
The echoes of his booming voice faded away, with no sign of a response. He scowled and made a horizontal slashing motion with his hand. The air in front of him peeled away, revealing a very surprised skeletal face. "Lich-Lord Jeyerevan! When I demand audience, I *expect* an audience!"
Lich-Lord Jeyerevan stood in a room of flesh and twisted bone. Archking Wyst's gaze sharpened as he noticed that some of them were orcish. "Lich-Lord Jeyerevan, I have heard tell of you reanimating the dead of the Orcish Jade Platoon, in violation of Section 401, Article 3 of their lease."
"Their lease." Lich-Lord Jeyerevan snorted. "You gave me them. They are my property. I can do what I wish with my property."
Archking Wyst glared at the Lich-Lord. "They are not your property. They are employees of the Reflective Rule, and they will be treated with respect and care."
"They're orcs! Monsters! Barely sentient! Archking Wyst, what did you expect when you sent them to me!"
"I expected you to read the damn contract and follow. My. RULES!" Archking Wyst roared the last word, thrusting his staff towards the image of Lich-Lord Jeyerevan, and in an instant, every bone in his rotting palace shattered. Jeyerevan froze in place—only his body had been spared, but it was a humiliating reminder of the power Archking Wyst held.
"They're orcs," Lich-Lord Jeyeravan finally said, "what else did you think I would do with them? They're little more than animals."
"Not these ones, they aren't. They're something different. Something better." Archking Wyst stared down the immortal, burning eyes of the Lich-Lord.
"And what would that be?"
"My employees," Archking Wyst growled, "and you had better play by our rules."
With that, Archking Wyst collapsed the scrying spell, leaving a humiliated Lich-Lord a hundred miles away and turning back to the awed faces of a dozen orcish soldiers.
"Alright, now get back to work! I don't pay you to stand around gawking. Send in the next person/golem/spirit/timeless godling from beyond the stars in when you leave, 'kay?" Archking Wyst settled back in his throne, yawning.
It was way too late in the day for this.
A.N.
If you liked this, you may want to check out [r/rileywrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/rileywrites/) or my blog, [rileyriles.wordpress.com](https://rileyriles.wordpress.com/) for more! | “All right, roll call!” I yelled into the intercom. If these brutes were going to unionize, then someone needed to teach them how to properly organize. Morning roll call was the first step on a long road to discipline for these once-chaotic monsters.
“Green Eyeball, I need you to stand up taller. And you, Big Blue, please stop talking to yourself, it’s kinda creepy. And for the love of all that is evil, could you get rid of that stuffed animal you carry around? Hey, Slender Gecko! Quit doing whatever it is you’re doing. It’s making my eyes hurt.”
The rest of the monsters stood in their places, each one more lost looking than the last. This group was going to be harder to tame than I thought.
“Uh, sir?” asked Green Eyeball, “My name isn’t Green Eyeball, and his isn’t Big Blue.” he said as he gestured to the blue monstrosity next to him. “We have actual names that you can address us with if you’d like. Seems like it’d be more professional considering you’re trying to-”
“First lesson of organizing is that you don’t talk out of *turn*!” I bellowed at Green Eyeball, though I made sure to make eye contact with Big Blue as I finished the sentence, lest he get any ideas. “Now,” I continued, “it seems that there is a demand in this world for people to cry and scream and you folks have the power to fulfill that demand!” I raised my voice like a good car salesman, hoping to see their faces change with excitement, but I didn’t receive any visual feedback. Worse, Big Blue was now talking to his doll.
“Blue!” I exploded at him, “What are you doing? Why are you talking to your octopus looking stuffed animal?” Big Blue opened his mouth to answer, but I cut him off. “Actually, don’t answer that. And,” I looked around confused, “what happened to Slender Gecko?”
Green Eyeball pointed one of his three fingers to where Slender Gecko had once stood. “He’s still right there, Sir. And while I have your attention, his name is actually-”
I was really running out of patience for this bunch.
“Green! What I tell you about speaking out of turn” I yelled over the end of his sentence. “And while I have *your* attention, why don’t we get you with the eye doctor later today, hmm? You know why we can do that? Because that’s the kind of thing unions fight for!”
I turned back to see Slender Gecko back in his place. “Where have you been?” I demanded. “I never left, sir.”
*These guys must be conspiring against me.*
Green Eyeball raised his hand. “Yes, Green?” I said, granting him permission to finally speak.
“Well sir, my name is actually Mike. And I think we’d all like to know why you’ve gathered us all here?” he said. Many of the other monsters nodded in agreement.
“I’m very glad you asked,” I said with a bright smile. “As I was saying, pain and misery is the currency of the day and you folk have the power to harness it. We’re going to get you all contracted out to the highest bidder, but don’t worry! You’ll have breaks and snacks and regulations to help guide the whole thing!”
Many of the monsters started whispering to themselves in what I hoped was agreement. Mike raised his hand again, which pleased me to see he was learning proper conduct. I gestured to him to speak again. “Sir, this sounds great and all, but, uh, we don’t do the scare-people-thing any more.” Mike said matter-of-factly.
I blinked a couple times to get my bearings after that statement. “You what!?” I screamed as a couple monsters jumped back in recoil. “What kind of organization did I come to?” I asked, almost pleading with my voice.
“This is Monster’s Inc.” Mike said, “and we make kids laugh now!”
I looked around me in disbelief. Finally my eyes landed on Big Blue’s doll that had started laughing like a little girl. I had officially lost my mind. | 2020-03-29T21:59:17 | 2020-03-29T21:44:13 | 123 | 65 |
[WP] Your a failing college student who needs to pass your foreign language class or fail. You've almost outright mocked superstions but make a wish on a shooting star at 11:11pm. To understand and speak all languages. Your cat wakes you up, but instead of meows. It's "wake up idiot and feed me". | "MOOOM MOOOM MOOOM. WAKE UP MOOOOM"
I shoot bolt upright in bed and feel the hefty lump that is my cat fly off me and onto the floor."OWWWWW! Why would you do that?! That was mean!" I hear from an indignant voice below me. Shaking, I peer over the edge of the bed and meet a pair of unblinking green eyes. Her little whiskered mouth opens and from it, emerges not a meow, but real, honest to god words.
"Morning mom!"
Oh my god, my cat is talking to me. And she sounds like a cheerleader. But that isn't important, she's talking. Is she talking? She can't be talking. I tilt my head and meet her eyes again.
"What's for breakfast?"
I fly across my bed to the other side, the side closest to the door. I silently count to 3 and hurl myself off the bed, through the doorway and slam the door shut behind me. From behind the now firmly shut door, I hear a perky, albeit muffled voice yelling.
"MOOOOM MOOOOM MOOOM! I'M STILL IN HERE. You locked me in by accident, let me out!!!"
Breathing rapidly, I stumble down the hallway and into the bathroom. The water is icy cold as I splash it over my face. In my head, I rapidly replay the events of the morning. Finding no answers there, only many, many more questions, I rewind further back to last night. I remember falling asleep in a daze, exhausted from studying, knowing that I didn't know quite enough to pass this final, but hoping that some miracle would happen. I remember turning my head to face the window by my bed, and catching a blinding white light. I remember wondering if that was a shooting star, and thinking the words "I need a miracle" as I fell asleep.
It's funny what the human brain will do to cope in these moments. Finding no other possible resolution that didn't involve a trip into insanity, my brain latches on to this idea that I have in fact, actually been granted a miracle. After all, it reasoned, if people can wake up out of year long comas, why would wishing on a star for a miracle not sometimes work?
Creeping my way back to the bedroom, I put my hand on the doorknob. I hear the rustle of claws stretching against the other side of the wooden panel, just waiting for me to open it. I clear my throat.
"Whisky, can you hear me?"
"Yeah mom, I hear you, loud and clear! Are we going to eat now? I'm starving!"
Despite myself, I smile "Whisky, you're not starving, you just think you are because you grew up feral."
There's a long silence, and then a stubborn "I'm starving."
So I feed Whisky and make myself breakfast. As I do, I chat with her about everything. I ask questions about whether she is happy, and about her days before I rescued her. It's fascinating to understand and be understood by her, my mouth almost moves of its own volition.
Finally, from down the long hallway, I hear a key turn in the lock; my husband is getting back from his daily morning jog. I run excitedly to meet him as he comes in. "Babe, you'll never guess what happened to me!"
He looks at me quizzically, as if he doesn't understand anything I'm saying.
"Meow?" he asks. | Notsed slumped in his chair, shoulders sagging under the weight of his worries as he read the note his friend sent just minutes ago.
*Notsed, I just overheard Professor Mumbles talking about you to one of the TAs. He said "They're a failing college student who needs to pass my foreign language class or I **will** fail them.*
Notsed sighed, wishing that English was not a required class, but knowing that it wouldn't help even if it was not. The real issue was that he hated grammar, syntax and spelling in *any* language.
He looked up, out the window into the starry night. Wisps of clouds did little to obscure the twinkling stars in the evening sky. "I wish," Notsed thought to himself, "that I could understand and speak all languages, with proper grammar, syntax and spelling so that I dont embarrass myself among my literary peers or fail my classes."
A shooting star crossed the dark horizon, but Notsed did not see its voyage. He had already turned his gaze to his hands, staring at the bottle of sleeping pills that was prescribed for his restless nights. Without a moment's hesitation, he popped the cap off the bottle, tipped his head back and emptied the bottle into his mouth.
Notsed leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and waited. He felt his hands falling to his sides, as if in slow motion. A brush of fur along his right hand, incessant and needful, trying to wake him. But instead of meows, it was "Wake up, idiot! Feed me!"
Notsed contemplated the absurdity of a talking cat as he drifted to oblivion, relieved at last to be free of his diction. | 2019-01-16T17:01:44 | 2019-01-16T15:45:44 | 93 | 11 |
[WP] Five years ago, the world fell to a fascist regime. You are arrested by the Secret Police and taken directly before the Supreme Leader. Upon entering his office, however, you are greeted by your childhood best friend, who insists that he can explain. | "Hello Thomas."
The familiar looking man stood behind the largest desk I'd ever seen, palms flat on its surface as he leaned over it, studying me. Behind him a painting of his own euphoric face loomed to elephantine size. It's electric eyes stared at me with maniacal intensity.
The two faces, his true one pensive and the decorative one behind enraptured, contrasted eerily, like the memories of my childhood best friend clashed with reality of the man before me. The man everyone called "Supreme Leader." Enemy of freedom.
"Victor?" I asked. "Is that really you?"
The pressure against my upper arms released, the the two guards moved back to flank either side of the door. Wobbling a bit with as I adjusted to standing on my own, my eyes fell upon the number across the chest of my light blue prisoner's shirt. 42. Life the universe and everything.
"The meaning of life," Victor said, the faintest smile brushing a corner of his mouth. "Do you remember the summer between seventh and eighth grade? When we devoured the Hitchhiker's Guide series, staying up until the sun came up telling each other the ideas we'd both already read? Do you remember?"
He straightened, smoothing the front of his white military style jacket, shiny brass buttons marching down it's front past battalions of medals, stripes and ribbons. I thought of holding my nose, seeing if I could breath, if this was a dream. It was useless. I'd already done it seven times.
"I remember," I said. "Victor what the hell is going on? Are you the..."
"You and I don't need titles between us. It's good to see you, my friend, how long has it been? Twenty five years? When I learned one of the resistance agents we'd picked up was my very own childhood best friend I could hardly believe my luck. And here you are."
Unreality pressed in on my mind like a wave, my thoughts and vision swimming in it. None of us had ever seen the Supreme Commander. To many he was a myth, a boogie man invented to create the illusion of singular control, a central vision at the head of the Modern World Order. But here he was. Victor.
"I can't believe it's really you," I said. "So all of this, the propaganda, the riots, the inciting of military coups across the world, it's... it's been you?"
"Of course."
"Why?"
"I don't understand," Victor said, eyes narrowing quizzically. "We planned all of this, you and I. Everything I've done has been according to the formula the two of us created all those years ago. Don't you remember? The giant experiment of planet earth, like the Life the Universe and Everything? We designed an experiment of our own, remember?"
A cold sickness welled up from my guts. I stepped towards him, fists balled.
"That was fiction, Victor," I said through clenched teeth. "There was no giant experiment on planet earth. A man wrote those books, his name was Douglas Adams, which you should know because you had him executed."
Ignoring my outburst, he reached down and picked an unmarked book off the desk, began circling around toward me. I glanced back at the guards, who stood fingering the triggers of there assault rifles, eyes fixed in the middle distance.
"Every great achievement begins as fiction," he said, pressing the book against his heart. "It always begins as a figment in someone's imagination, made reality by the collective efforts of the faithful. We were children back then, of course, but we understood grand action. All we lacked was the power and the blueprint. Now, though, we have both."
As he approached me the heat of anger bled through, stiffened me. If I snapped his neck right now this could all end. He smiled, as if guessing my thoughts, and his eyes flicked to the guards behind me. A warning.
"What do you want from me?" I asked.
He held out the book.
"I want you to help me finish what we started, sitting on the carpet in your bedroom all those years ago. I want you to help me carry out a grand experiment for planet earth. Not the silly plans we created as children, but the grand vision of the greatest mind in human history. Can't you see? Everything, all of it has been for that purpose, and when all of the people of earth are under our rule the experiment can begin."
I took the book from him, studied it. Nothing marked the dark read cover, only a smooth surface worn from obvious handling. I opened the front cover. Air hissed in through my teeth as I read the title page.
Mein Kampf, by Adolf Hitler.
&#x200B;
\*\*\*\*\*\*
r/EnemyOfAnEnemy
&#x200B;
&#x200B; | The blindfold came off, and before he could get a look, water was splashed in his face, waking him up from the drug-addled daze the Police had put him in. When he finally recovered and coughed everything up, a face he hadn’t seen in fifteen years was in front of him…
“W-what?”
“I know…don’t say anything. Just let me explain.”
“What am I doing here?”“You once said…”
\-
*They sat in the grass, thankful for once that the dew was soaking through their shorts. The laughs of the winning team they had just lost to still rang in their ears, and the crickets’ symphony unfortunately wasn’t loud enough to drown it out.*
*“Fuck basketball.”*
*“Yeah, I can’t believe I ever wanted to become an NBA player.”*
*They sat, cooling off and drinking their Sprites.*
*“So what do you want to be?”*
*“What?”*
*“I mean, when you grow up.”*
*“I don’t know…I guess I’d just be okay with a normal 9-5 job I didn’t hate, as long as I get to see my friends and parents and stuff. Maybe I'll be a teacher, like Mr. Benton. He seems pretty happy.”*
*“Really? That’s it?”*
*“I don’t know. What else should I say? What about you, then? What do you want to be?”*
*He shook his head, smiling ruefully.*
*“What is it? Just tell me.”*
*“No…it’s too weird.”*
*“Just say it. You can’t ask that question and not expect me to ask too.”“Fine. But don’t make fun of me, and don’t tell anyone, okay?”*
*“Whatever. What is it?”*
*“I want to rule the world.”*
*“What?”*
*“Look at the world right now. Everyone in charge…they’re fucking up. I think I could do it better.”*
*“But Hitler thought that too. And Stalin. And Trump.”*
*“Yeah…but I’m not a psycho.”*
*“Yet.”*
*“Hey, you said you wouldn’t make fun of me!”*
*“I’m sorry…I was just surprised. I guess, if that’s what you really want, then I’m all for it. Call me up if you need any help in your world-conquering.”*
*“Will do…”*
\-
“What? All this time, all the genocides, the attacks…that was you?”He shakes his head. “It was never supposed to go that way…I swear to God. It’s gotten way out of hand.”
“Oh, so you’re not responsible for all the fucked up shit that’s happened to the world the past couple years?”
“Yes,” he insists. “I’m not. And that’s why you’re here. I know it’s been so long…but you were always the only one I could go to when things we bad. Taking me to play basketball or just hang out when my parents were fighting…please. Help me fix this.”
"It's been years...I haven't seen you in more than a decade."
"And you're still the best friend I ever had."
He was in there, the kid who never learned to dribble with his left hand and cried about gum being stuck to his locker by the bullies and pissed his pants at the play in fourth grade…
“Okay. What do you need?”
\-
[r/penguin347](https://www.reddit.com/r/penguin347) | 2019-02-17T05:19:19 | 2019-02-17T02:50:09 | 1,322 | 248 |
[WP] You notice one day that you are compelled to keep every promise you ever made. The news shows the world in a panic as is everyone else is forced do to the same. It seems that that people with too many conflicting promises go comatose, including many elected officials. | "You ready?" I asked. Sarah nodded and opened her mouth as wide as she could. I took her toothbrush and started very carefully to brush her teeth. It was really awkward since I couldn't hold her with my other hand, and some foam leaked over her lower lip, but I couldn't wipe it since my mind would recognize this as a sign of affection. But Sarah braved this procedure like a champ, and once I finished, started to furiously wash her mouth and spit.
"This makes no sense!" She shouted, spitting furiously, "How old I was when I said I will never brush my teeth when I grow up, five years old? Four? Why do I have to bear responsibility for the tantrums silly little me threw ages ago?"
"This story has no moral", I agreed. "It's just some bizarre anomaly with no rhyme no reason behind it."
Sarah stopped washing her mouth and looked at me.
"Well at least it's not as bad as yours", she muttered. I could only shrug, although internally I was screaming and clawing my eyes out. At some point in my angsty edgelord phase, I swore to never date girls, because, you know, *girls are so dumb*. So now, decades after, I can't even touch my wife's hand. And if she tries to, my hand jerks away like it touched a boiling kettle.
"Another shooting at fast food," Sarah said. She was already back with her phone. This whole situation started approximately 18 hours ago, and we locked ourselves up at home because outside it was madness and chaos. So we just tried to cope via doomscrolling.
"Some redneck who swore to shoot whoever tries to cut in line probably", I said. Sarah nodded, scrolling away. I picked up my phone too. Together we can gather twice as much desperation and agony.
"Here's some interesting stuff", I said. "Group of medical students checked if their do-no-harm oath can be used to determine effectiveness and safety of drugs. Would be really neat, but as it turns out, the oath does not work if the doctor who administers the drug does not know it can be harmful".
"M-hm", muttered Sarah. She lifted her head from her phone. "By the way, don't you think we're really lucky that not a single nuke was launched? I bet some of the top brass once promised to obliterate those pesky insert-nationality-name when they get the chance. But here we are."
"Likely because of security protocols. I don't know how many people it takes to launch a nuke, but probably more than one. By the way, remember those MIT guys who promised to crack the cold fusion in half a day? How are they?"
Sarah tapped her phone.
"Comatose, all of them", she sighed. "Maybe it's for the best. I don't want people to gain superpowers just because they promised to do the impossible. Somebody would totally promise to end the world. Or, look, here's a cool tiktok... The guy promises to break the promise he's currently making and... boom. He's out."
"Yeah, obviously", I nodded. "That's you good ole liar's paradox..."
I stopped short. An idea started to form in my mind... and then exploded instantly.
"Self-referential commitments!" I yelled. My wife, being much smarter than me, simply shrieked "Gödel!" at the same time.
"Wait-wait-wait, so... if we commit..."
"Not this one, but..."
We were already drafting it on a piece of paper.
"How does it work? Does it count as a contradiction or..."
"Do new commitments override old ones? Do you have to specify..."
"We just have to try..."
&#x200B;
We stopped at once, staring at the words. I looked at Sarah and said, "Okay, let me try first."
"No way", she refused flatly. "I'm doing it. If it doesn't..."
"I hereby commit..." I started to quickly recite the oath, but Sarah instantly slapped my face, making me choke on my words.
"I hereby commit..." she started, before I gently, but firmly closed her mouth with my hand. It was not affection, so my mind permitted it. Sarah incinerated me with her eyes and shoved her thumb into my mouth. We stared at each other for a moment, trying to communicate with our eyes. It wasn't easy, but we got it. Slowly, we pulled our hands away.
"Okay, let's not re-enact that scene from infinity war," Sarah said. She turned the camera on her phone and started recording. "Let's do it together. If we fail... well, we will still get some data for the world."
"I hereby commit..."
"I hereby commit..."
"...to not be bound by any promises, oaths, and commitments..."
"...to not be bound by any promises, oaths, and commitments..."
"...that I've made before this one or might make after it."
"...that I've made before this one or might make after it."
The silence was deafening. I looked at Sarah's face, tense and frightened, expecting it to go slack as she falls comatose. But nothing happened. I remembered I still have to breathe.
Without saying a word I reached out for her, waiting for the invisible suit of icy armor to stifle my movements.
And took her hand in mine. | I learned a long time ago to only make promises I was sure I could keep. The world recently learned that same lesson.
The government stopped functioning just over 6 months ago; corporations fell shortly thereafter. The supply chain has dried up and we eat what we are able to scrounge together. We live in a small warehouse with three other families. The other parents help keep things in order. Each time I go out on a scouting mission, I tell Junior that I love him. I don’t promise that everything will be o.k. I don’t promise that I’ll come back.
I can’t keep those promises.
Used to be that I was the only person who kept their word. I watched as politicians and CEOs spoke out of both sides of their. I was fascinated by their ability—my condition felt like a curse. Now, I know that I was just ahead of the curve.
At night, the sound of gun shots frighten the children. I hold Junior close and promise him that I will protect him with all my might. He is my world and the only reason I’m still here. To get him to sleep I tell him stories of his mother: of our year-long courtship, how we used to dance like wild-people at weddings, how she loved the smell of hand sanitizer unironically, and how he gets that trait from her.
We didn’t realize that the world before was all a house of cards—that the whole system was propped by a foundation of broken promises. The aftermath was built upon the comatose husks of lying leaders.
It was Junior’s birthday two days ago. To celebrate I gave him a Snickers bar I was able to scavenge from a convenience store that hadn’t yet been picked clean. I lit a match and stuck it into the chocolate bar as a makeshift candle. He closed his eyes, wished, and blew out the match. I later asked him what he wished for, but he wouldn’t tell me for fear it wouldn’t come true. I asked for a hint so that I could try to make it come true. He told me through tears that he couldn’t tell me because I wouldn’t be able to promise I’d make it happen. He fell asleep in my arms that night.
When it first started, everyone assumed there was a virus causing mass comatose. It wasn’t until a couple months after the first cases that a pattern began to emerge. No one could have imagined the impact that such a seemingly small change would make; how often people made empty promises and how reliant people were on not having to follow through.
This morning I packed my bag for a scouting mission. Brian, one of the other fathers in the group, and Debbie, one of the mothers, were coming along on this mission. We planned to be gone for three days. I packed essentials: first aid kit, MRE rations we found at a military surplus store a couple miles from our warehouse, knife, and binoculars, along with some rope, my colt revolver, and some ammo.
As I packed, Junior walked over to me for our good-bye routine. I ruffled his hair and told him to behave himself and watch after the place. Take care of the other kids, and don’t cause any trouble, son. He told me he would. I promised him I’d be careful out there. I asked him to promise to me that he’d be here when I get back.
He tried to reply but the words wouldn’t come out. They caught in his throat as he stammered. I panicked and tried to think of ways that I could stay—but I had to leave. I had promised Brian and Debbie. Please, Son. Promise me! I shouted.
He just stared at me with tears dripping down his face. | 2022-06-15T21:15:26 | 2022-06-15T20:23:09 | 1,124 | 181 |
[WP] You were once the most powerful villain. You retired early and are engaged to a minor super hero who isn't aware of your past. They are about to be killed right before your eyes..but you step in. | I used to be the guy who did this... go around killing minor heroes for the fun of it, made me feel real big and powerful. I guess that’s the same with this guy, big muscular guy wearing spandex of all things. As far as he was aware he and my fiancée were all alone, how very wrong he was. I was in the shadows of the rafters waiting for the right moment to step in, my blood beginning to boil with anger as he threatened her and spoke of all the ways he could kill her.
I took a deep breath and focussed my mind, I could attempt to defeat him without ‘It’ but success would be unlikely, I struggled to maintain control, not over some demonic power within me, but over myself, or at least the person I was back then.
This big dude was now pacing in front of my girl, and then in super slow motion as the adrenaline hit I saw his hand wind back and strike out at her. Fight, Flight or Freeze, My mind went numb all the evil thoughts evaporated as the only thing I could now think of was to protect my fiancée, a tingling feeling raced over my entire body and soon I felt some of my old strength seep back into me. Fight.
Before his hand had even struck Liv I was upon him, summoning my old power to launch myself from my hiding spot...threw a low punch to his gut which catapulted him across the room. I stood in between him and her. “Aiden!?!?” I heard in a low whisper from behind me, I quickly glanced to look at Liv “I’ll explain later.” I turned back to face my opponent, he was gracefully getting himself out of the wall. Like and enraged boar he launched himself at me, I readied myself for it... no matter what happened I was not going to fail, I would protect Liv. I caught his first punch, but failed to catch his second which hit my rib cage which I felt bend and warp under the sheer force of his hit but... no pain, nothing. Unmoving under the incredible force of his punch, I struck back which again sent him flying “you clearly don’t understand what you’re dealing with rookie, don’t fuck with the king... or have you all forgotten me already” I uttered with rage on my breath. I saw the whites of his eyes as the gears in his head finally clicked on who I was “I’ll give you ten seconds to fuck off or I will make you wish you hadn’t been born” with that he scrambled to get up and get out of my sight as fast as he could muster.
“Who are you!?” Liv demanded, The question I had been dreading for years... “I was once called Annihilation” “I used to be the king of all the villains” I confessed, the relief of getting it off my chest putting years onto my lifespan. “Why did you stop?” She said cocking her head to one side curiously. “Because... I didn’t want to continue, after one particular night that had ended in me making off with a few million dollars. Like any normal human I went to a bar to celebrate, got a little buzzed and started walking home, do you remember what happened next?” I asked with a sad smile “I met you... and my whole perspective changed, every drop of evil in me evaporated away and I haven’t used my power since...”
We sat in the warehouse without a word until her voice pierced the silence “Well... I love the man that’s treated me right, who he was before doesn’t matter” by this point I had tears in my eyes “I don’t think you would be capable of becoming annihilation again anyway, you aren’t that person anymore” I nodded in agreement, now tears were streaming down my face, this woman had seen what I was and had forgiven me for it...“I love you...” I uttered, as a silence filled the air my brain started going haywire, what if she doesn’t love me, what if she is scared of me, what if she... “I love you too” she smiled, interrupting my panic. She trudged over to me, sat down next to me and draped her arms around my neck “You better goddamn show at the wedding” she snorted, as she kissed my cheek.
(First WP, please give constructive criticism as I want to improve)
EDIT: changed a bit so that hopefully it flows a bit better | “Monologuing. Always with the monologuing. Not that I wasn’t guilty of it myself, but when you have conquered the world three times over, you learn pretty fast not to monologue. It almost always gives your target time to break out of their confines, call for backup, or a myriad of other responses heroes tend to be able to pull out of their tightly bound spandex ass.”
&nbsp;
“I remember struggling to keep a look of fear on my face as the spiky armored villain, whose name I cannot remember, but for the purposes of this session, doctor, I shall call spiky boy.”
&nbsp;
“His name is Doom Lord Straxus.” The costumed hero beside me cut in.
&nbsp;
“Yes darling. As I was saying, Doom Lord st- How on Earth do you say that without laughing, babe? Anyway, spiky boy was monologuing about how he had finally corned Ideal this time and how he had paid Mr. Jouhou for information on his civilian identity and captured his boyfriend, yours truly, -”
&nbsp;
“Possible ex-boyfriend,” Ideal muttered glaring at me from the chair beside.
&nbsp;
“Your truly, Malicious Vile, three times conqueror of this world, ex-owner of Venus and now /Retired/ Villain,” I continued, placing particular emphasis on the word with a sidelong glance at his cheasled frame.
&nbsp;
“Of course, at this time, Ideal still had no idea who I was, so I sat there, suffering through his honestly horrible monologue, wondering which response Ideal would managed to pull out of his absolutely gorgeous ass this time. I was personally hoping for a last minute heroic second wind, and watch as he saved me and kick evil villain butt.”
&nbsp;
“But, and you see what I did there,” I continued with a smirk as my darling groaned beside me. “This was a little bit different. Spiky boy had managed to get his hands on a low level power nullifier, and started pummeling Ideal so I was forced to step in. I couldn’t help but chide Spiky Boy as I ripped apart his armor. I mean, it was tacky, weak and did barely anything to stop anyone and it made him look like helloween and comic con had a really bad baby. I’m surprised he lasted this long out of jail to be honest, Doctor.”
&nbsp;
“Anyway, back to the story, after saving Ideals sweet gorgeous ass, I realized that we needed to talk. I mean, all encompassing power of darkness is pretty hard to mistake. Several talks later, here we are, at couples therapy. So. What do we do now?”
| 2018-03-09T07:02:35 | 2018-03-09T03:26:26 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] You have the ability to see the lifespan of everybody in color. Green is a long life, orange is about 50 years, and red is under an hour. You're in class, your teacher walks in late, everybody suddenly has a red glow.
Teacher has an orange glow... | I am not a bad kid. Sure, I've lied (I'm pretty good at that), and yes I've even had a few beers at Tommy's house, but fundamentally, I think of myself as a good person. I didn't deserve... *the Gift*.
More like *the Curse*.
My mom always told me that bad things happen to good people. She also told me that I'd see better if I ate more carrots. I don't know about the first part, but I can tell you the second is bullshit. I've had maybe twelve carrots in my life and my vision is... spectacular.
No... that doesn't even begin to descibe my vision.
I can... can... *see* things...
Terrible things.
It's not that it is gruesome or gory, just... sickening.
Imagine a spectrum. Like the kind you hear, the kind you feel, the kind you see. Our ears can differentiate between different sounds; low and high, soft and loud. Our hands can differentiate between surfaces; hard and soft, rough and smooth. And our eyes -at least everyone else's- can see different colors at different brightness. Mine can see health. Not like a doctor or nurse or anything, but something... deeper. I've read medical articles, searched religious texts, asked spiritual guides, but none can give me the answer to what I seek.
*I don't now how or what for, but I can see when people are going to die.*
And I haven't told a soul until now. How could you blame me for that? Imagine what people could do if they exploited this ability? I was doing the right thing by keeping it a secret. Believe me when I say I was protecting people.
*I'm not a coward, I'm a good person.*
That is why, February 19th, 2015, I didn't tell anyone.
They wouldn't have believed me. Tommy is the charmer, not me. I'm a nobody. They would have ignored me, laughed at me. I couldn't tell Tommy to tell them either. He always thinks I am screwing with him, and that time would have been no different.
My parents both work in the city, over an hour away. Plus, they don't know about the Gift, and I doubt I would have been able to convince them over the phone.
The principals and counselors probably wouldn't have even recognized me. Even if I *was* able to articulate to them what was wrong, they would have had security take me away long before Mr. Burke cracked.
*Who knows? Maybe he wouldn't have cracked. Maybe I was wrong all along.*
I couldn't have been wrong. I just had to take matters into my own hands.
Mr. Burke was my AP Physics II professor. He was young, thirty-something, had a wife and a kid, a nice car (we saw him pull into the high school every morning... Audi), and a nice job. *And a healthy, long future*.
So did everyone else in my class. With the exception of a few girls in the back with maybe 3 years left and a boy near the window with about 10, everyone is my classroom wasn't going to die for a long time.
At least that's how it was until Mr. Burke's car screeched into the parking lot 15 minutes late and himself into the room a few moments later.
Everyone went red.
Not literally, but... aurorally? What I mean is I could see that the life expectancy of everyone in the room suddenly and drastically shortened. The last time I had seen someone with this... wavelength... was when my grandmother passed 3 years ago. She died less than twenty minutes after we left her house. Now everyone, with the exception of Mr. Burke and myself, was destined to die before next period.
I have never been able to gauge my life expectancy, not even with mirrors and cameras. For all I knew I could be as fucked as everyone else. But Mr. Burke was rather un-fucked. His life had shortened to maybe 8 more years, but that was still a drastic drop that would have gotten my attention any other day.
But as he sat there at his desk, red faced and practically steaming with rage, I saw it. He tilted his head up at the ceiling, very slowly, and as his eyes shifted across the classroom and met with mine I saw it.
I saw the killer.
I saw the killer that had lost it. I saw the killer that had packed the pistol in his briefcase after shooting his family during breakfast. I saw the killer that had taken it to his workplace to continue his rampage. I saw the killer that had the pretentiousness to easily take the lives of others but spare his own, and this made me
very, very angry.
I grabbed my wooden number 2 pencil and stood up from my desk.
I took last night's homework in the other hand and walked up to his desk with everyone else, and placed it on the corner.
The rest of the class returned to their seats and looked for notebooks as they prepared for today's belayed lesson.
I went to the sharpener.
As I slowly cranked the loud, clumsy device, I looked over my shoulder.
Mr. Burke sat slumped in his chair, staring at his desk, his aura getting more and more red...
[Edit] I returned to my pencil, removing it from the machine. Holding it close to my face, I inspected the tip.
*Yes, it would do*.
A glance over the other shoulder revealed that the other students were less red than earlier.
*Was this actually happening? Could I have been changing the fate of everyone else in the room?*
A few of the students began to look at me, and I turned away quickly. Looking down once more at my pencil, I closed my eyes and tightened my grip. Turning around, I began walking towards Mr. Burke. He didn't look up, but Tommy did.
*I am a good person*.
Tommy gave me a "what the hell?" face, which was now more orange than red. Ignoring it, I turned back towards the deranged instructor. With every step his condition became worse, and just before I reached him, he looked up at me with disgust.
*I am a good person.*
His eyes stood out on his face like two white, angry targets, and as my pencil rammed home, the bloody red aura splashed all over me. | An anxious feeling weaves through my body as red fills my vision the moment Mrs.Akita enters the classroom. Every student is now glowing red, including me, from our typical green and orange.
"Hello class," Mrs.Akita says," I hope you're prepared for the lesson today," she smiles, "I am."
She straightens her black pencil skirt and sits down. Her orange glow is its usual color but her demeanor is more manic than usual. It feels like a red flare was set off in the room, it reeling images of friends and strangers passing away when they took on a red glow into my mind. They just didn't die, but within a hour.
"Cody," a voice says snapping me back to reality.
"Are you going to...join us," Mrs.Akita says with her Japanese accent, giving a small glance around the classroom of students ready with their pens and books.
I fumble getting my history book and notepad, "Um yes, ofcourse, sorry," I sputter out.
She purses her lips, gets up and closes the the only door and locks it.
"It's a bit loud out there, lets avoid interruptions," she says striding back to her seat.
Everyone is here and the halls are library quiet.
"Now, last time you were here," she begins with her hands clasped on her desk, "we were talking about the dropping of the Hiroshima bomb, by americans, killing thousands and thousands of people," she says with a tautness in her voice.
The red in the room almost flashes as it increased in intensity and hue.
"These were civilians mind you, innocent people for the most part. Women, children, families," she stresses.
I notice the intensity blips when she says families. Did it also blip when she said Americans?
"How do you think this was justified?" She ask surveying the class.
"Uh, casualties of war," a guy in the back barks out nonchalantly.
"Yea, like wartime rules," a girl adds.
A noticeable vein pulses on Mrs.Akita's forehead, synching with the now pulsing red glows in the room.
"You Americans....I mean, that sounds convenient," she retorts with venom in her voice.
The guy shrugs. The room flashes. I hear Mrs.Akita's desk cabinet slowly opening, the red glow slowly rising with it.
I decide to intervene, "Well, maybe that is, uh, self justification but not true justice," I say with a quavering voice.
The cabinet stops, Mrs.Akita's head shifts to me, the glow dims a bit.
"I mean, it sucks but, all fair in love and war right?" A brown haired guy says.
Mrs.Akita's head shifts to him. The glow increases a bit.
"If all is fair, that sounds like it can get pretty inhumane," a girl in the back says.
"They took lives first, they started the war, we ended it," the guy slams back.
"They? Those civilians didn't do it," a blonde girl says joining in.
"Our guys didn't either," the guy says, his voice rising.
The classroom erupts into debate, Mrs.Akita's eyes dance with anger and pain, the red takes on a crimson hue, the hue it takes when someone is moments from death.
"Justice," I say loudly hushing the classroom, "she asked about justice."
Their all looking at me now.
"Lives lost on both sides,that was revenge, not justice. Revenge comes from hate, and justice comes from truth. The truth is those people don't know what hit them and they probably had little to nothing to do with reasonings for initials attacks."
The glows begin to recede in color.
"They were human beings, individuals, who deserved compassion and fairness. Those deaths have no justice, and we have to recognize that, " I say finishing.
The classroom is silent, orange and green glows surround the enamored students. Mrs.Akita eyes wet stained as she looks on.
"Class, you may leave early," Mrs.Akita says with a strained throat.
The classroom begins to empty out, I take my time collecting my things. As I head toward the door I walk up to Mrs.Akita whose hand is still on the cabinet handle. Our eyes dart to the uzi inside and back to each other. She slowly looks down and away.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for your ancestors. I'm sorry as a American," I say.
She slowly looks back, a tear rolling down her face.
"Thank...you," she says with a voice filled with emotion.
I nod, walk out the class and quietly thank what I considered a curse. | 2015-02-19T16:13:51 | 2015-02-19T15:05:54 | 404 | 111 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | __Suicide: A permanent solution to a temporary problem.__
This stupid fucking phrase rings through my mind almost hourly as I try to make it through the day. The reason it’s in my head right now? It’s pouring and a car just sped through a puddle, leaving me a wet mess. What’s more, I dropped my phone when I got splashed, and now it won’t turn on. _Permanent_ solution. _Temporary_ problem.
The bus finally arrives and everyone rushes past me to escape the rain, leaving me the last one to get on. There’s one place left to sit and it’s right next to the nicest looking lady in the very back of the bus. Maybe my luck is changing?
“Oh, dear!” She exclaims at my appearance. “Here honey, sit by the window, there’s a little heater under the seat there. She gets up to let me in and a book falls from her lap. The front cover is torn off and there’s handwriting covering all the margins in red ink. I try to read the printed text, but she snatches it up before I can focus my gaze on it. “Shakespeare,” she says, blushing. “Always been a pain to read.”
I slide into the seat and put my backpack on my lap and rest my head against the window. I’ve got a couple of hours until I change busses again, so I close my eyes and try to sleep, the heater blasting at the back of my legs from under the seat. It’s almost painful, but I kind of like it. After a few minutes, the murmur of the bus becomes more faint and I begin slipping off to sleep.
I wake up to a loud bang in complete darkness. I stand up and my legs brush against the bus seat. I let out a yelp and run my hand over my calves, which are hot to the touch. _Temporary problems_. It suddenly dawns on me that I’ve missed my connecting bus and I’m fucked. _Temporary_.
I reach for my phone for the flashlight and remember it’s not going to turn on. I try anyway and hear a small pop followed by the smell of smoke. Great. I throw my phone on the seat and try to find my way to the front of the bus. When I make my way near the front, I hear a laugh from where I was sitting.
“Hey!” I yell. “I can’t fucking see. Do you have a light?”
The laughing turns to cackling and then to a deep growl. I can’t tell where it’s even coming from anymore. _Okay,_ I think. _Fuck you too._ The growling continues and I think I found the steps that lead off the bus. I finally exit the bus into a dark garage. “Hello?!” I hear my own words echo back at me and the growling turns to a shriek.
I fumble forward until I run into something like a work bench. I run my hands across the top and cut my hand on something sharp. _Temporary_. I wince in pain, but grab whatever it was by the handle to keep it close in case I need it. I keep running my hands across the top of the bench until I find something that feels like a pack of cigarettes. I open the lid and find a lighter inside.
I don’t know where I am or what’s in this garage, but I need to see. I flick the lighter a few times until it stays lit and try to find a way out. The shrieking has stopped by this point and I can hear the pitter patter of feet coming towards me. “Okay,” I say. “We can both leave together just don’t trip over anything.”
Whoever is here is starting to laugh again. I shoot a dirty look in the direction of their laughter, even though I know they can’t hear me. “Look, if you’re not gonna help, you can find your own way out.”
“There is no way out.”
Great, it’s the lady from the bus. “Then how the fuck did we get in here, lady?”
She starts cackling again. Whatever, I’m going to keep looking for a way out. The lighter doesn’t help much, but I can see where I’m stepping, at least. As I’m focusing on my feet, my head slams into something and I fall to the ground. The lighter skips across the room and the sharp tool I found lands by my side. I grab it for safe keeping.
The lady has stopped cackling, but I can hear her breaths and they get closer until she’s finally over top of me. She starts speaking in Latin and I let out a little chuckle. This is just so typical. Well, not the Satanic hex or whatever - but my luck is typical.
Finally, she speaks in English. “Stay still, child. I’m going to sacrifice you to open a portal.”
_Not-so-temporary._
My head is all fuzzy and I can’t sit up. My legs are still on fire from the damn heater. My hand is bleeding from where I cut myself. Now I’m about to be fucking _sacrificed?_ Nope. I’m in control. I grasp the sharp tool tightly in my hand it move it to my wrists. She can’t sacrifice me if I’m already dead. | The bronze dagger scraped against the cement floor with rhythmic scratches, tuned to The Slasher's lopsided gait. A red grin cut across his mask, painted on until it hit the the cracked bottom quarter, where it spilled into a real lip-less smile.
The stage was set. The night, perfect. A full moon dangled in a cloudless sky, his spotlight trained on him. A brisk breeze blew south to north, a wind that could carry a scream all the way to the heavens itself. And his characters, they were some of the best he ever had. A twelve year old boy with glassy eyes and panting breath, scratching against the alley dead end. A fourteen year old girl huddled in a corner, her knee to her chest, as she stuttered in sobbing coughs. And of course, the hero. A boy of fifteen that stood trembling over his friends, a pocket knife in front of him quivering as much as his lips.
The alley dead end held the sour stench of garbage long since rotted. Insects scattered through the a black trash bags piled along the sides of the walls.
"And the hero reveals himself." The Slasher trembled in excitement, increasing the pace of his blade-against-cement metronome. He could hardly contain himself.
The hero swallowed and brought up his puny knife.
The Slasher's eyes bulged through his mask. His charred cheeks stretched and his mouth opened. A chuckle, like the sound of choking man, escaped his throat. This was the hero he had been looking for, a man to challenge monsters.
"So hero," he said between his laughs. "Your stage is ready. The damsel is in tears. The dam is equally helpless. Everyone is at the edge of their seats and even God is wondering--what does the hero do?"
The hero opened his mouth and swallowed breath. "Guys," he choked out. "Listen to me right now, when the time comes, make a break for it."
His two friends caught his eyes and stopped. It felt like time paused with them. The girl sniffed back tears and the boy shook his head in a sharp twitch. This was the power of the hero. Because in that instant, The Slasher no longer existed.
"No," the boy whispered. "We're a family."
"Like hell we are." The hero's muscles tensed and his knife straightened toward The Slasher. "Orphans have no family. We just happened to find each other when we needed to the most. It could've been anyone and it wouldn't have mattered."
"That's not true," the girl said with trembled words. "You know it's not."
The hero coughed out a cry and inhaled. "You fucking brats!" he screamed at them, startling them. "I needed someone to watch my back when I stole, I needed someone to distract the guards, I needed someone to hide the food when I stole it. You think it had to be you guys? It could've literally been anyone. I don't give a fuck about any of you!"
The Slasher's heart skipped a beat. The hero he had prayed for had arrived and his screams would be melody unlike anything a Beethoven or Bach could compose. A symphony for God Himself.
"Hero," he said, "How kind, how brave, how--"
His words caught because the hero charged him, the silver of his knife gleaming beneath the moonlight, the tears in his eyes glistening as it fell behind him.
The Slasher heaved laughter out of himself. The humor was like a spell, a beautiful and uncontrollable spell. He swung and cut the hero. No hero had ever won, no damsel or dam ever saved, and this would not be the exception. | 2017-05-05T07:14:27 | 2017-05-05T06:07:15 | 451 | 21 |
[WP] The end of times has come. Heaven, hell, and earth are thrown in a three-way war. It's a little unfair how advanced Earth is, though. | Now padre... you figure demonic fire and brimstone as well as holy light and the radiance of god would be effective armament for any good soldier. Its funny how little those biblical ideals hold up to a Hellfire missile or 5.56mm NATO rounds spitting out of a barrel at 750 rounds a minute and 2800 feet per second.
At the end of the day hulking demonic behemoths, we call them Shreks, are really just flesh, bone and armor that matches up to Iron Age technology. Angels fair little better, they have wings. The fly boys love duking it out with them. But holy and unholy weapons, even when fused with their respective light, can only pierce so many inches of tungsten armor.
We didn't ask for this war. We sure as hell didn't prepare for it. But when the Seraphim came down to conclave with Lucifer, in the damn Vatican no less, we knew we had to fight. Even the faithful picked up arms when it became clear that the big guy in the sky wasn't on our side. I think the Hindus were a bit disappointed their pantheon didn't jump in, but then again during those early days we didn't exactly have time to get into theological debates. We had to deal with reality. A reality where angels scorched Paris off the face of the earth and Las Vegas was engulfed in a pit of lava.
They got the jump on us. They got a few early wins for sure. But when we finally organized we turned it. Like when the 7th fleet locked down the East Coast and shot down every bird out of the sky flying in over the Atlantic. Or when Russia lined up 20 tank battalions in Turkmenistan to blow away every demon and goblin that crawled out of the Door to Hell.
I was there in Rio De Janeiro when that damned statue came to life and turned half the city into brain dead husks. You'd be surprised how effective a sniper team is when its armed with .50 Barrett M82s and tasked with remodeling some classical art work.
They have miracles and curses. Holy light that can burn your eyes out and unholy mist that turns you blood to dust. I'll take good old fashion gunpowder and laser guided smart bombs any day. I hear one of the Seraphim turned the other day, saying he was sick of losing. I hear it was because they have shit dental in heaven.
They might be legion. But damn god, we're Human. Now are you going to keep praying, or are you going to pick up that gun and get back out there?
- Sergeant Baliste Fedarino speaking to Father Pascal Monte of the Holy See.
---
As suggested by /u/IamATreeBitch I have expanded the story with a prequel in /r/HFY. Check it out [here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/3m9gle/xpostoc_from_rwritingprompts_we_are_humans/)
The HFY thread also contains a Part 3 that goes on with a little more detail.
---
Ok this really blew up! Quite a few people saying that they want more. Someone even gilded me in the HYF thread! Damn. But heres the deal. I can't dedicate much more time to this, at least I can't justify it. Time is money for me. Literally. So I went ahead and put together a quick Patreon page. www.patreon.com/wearehuman
If it can hit $100/month I'll dedicate time alongside my legal work to expand the story and universe. So if you like the initial story and the expansions, and want to see more, check out the project page!
(Mods please let me know if this is Kosher) | As the world was quickly learning, the book of Revelations was on to something. “The Revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave Him to show His servants—things which must shortly take place … Behold, He is coming with clouds, and every eye will see Him, even they who pierced Him. And all the tribes of the earth will mourn because of Him” (Revelation 1:1-7).
They were close but they missed one little detail, those tribes were giving the ability to evolve be on their means. They were given self-awareness which caused them to question Jesus Christ but also themselves. Humanity had always been told that the day of judgement would come. Sadly the ruler they were to be measured with only benefited the cause not humanity. After most of the world realized this everything was thrown out the window. Omnism became predominant mentality, the recognition and respect of all religions caused humanity to come together as one was now the law of the land.
This is something that Jesus Christ, God, the Holy Spirit and the Devil did not see coming. When they came to earth ready to judge all who lived and had ever lived in order to decide who was going to heaven or hell they were flabbergasted. Humanity was free of wrath, greed, sloth, pride, lust, envy, and gluttony.
The most surprising thing was when God asked if everyone was ready to go to heaven because no one wanted to. When the world leaders met they asked themselves, "Why would we want to go with anyone who would judge humanity so harshly?" This unfortunately did not go over well with Heaven or Hell. They could see their power over humanity slipping which was not an option. They again brought the ten plagues to the world. But unlike before, humanity stuck together and fought together. By the end of the last plague, the death of the first born, God realized that he had brought upon humanity that which he had fought so hard to eradicate. By joining the Devil in war against world he had become that which he hated most. At the end, humanity had won the war and earned its freedom not by fighting for it but by showing that they had evolve be on the need of a Heaven or Hell. | 2015-09-24T08:43:45 | 2015-09-24T07:02:34 | 731 | 54 |
[WP] Since you were born you could see a search bar over people's heads. All you had to do was think and the search bar would fill out and give you information/statistics. Out of boredom one day you decide to search your whole family with"Number of people killed" | The chatter was loud and incessant, like a fly that wouldn’t stop buzzing in your ear.
Or several flies. Hell, a whole cloud.
Anyways, Aunt Sandy turned “33” for the fifth time and my mom wanted to throw the party at our house because she wanted to flambé (torch the living shit) out of her “famous” Baked Alaska pie in front of everyone as a grand finale. She’s always been a bit crazy in the kitchen, like when she made lasagna with cucumber and olives. As soon as I saw the green I searched “What is she thinking?” in the search bar above her head.
No results.
It’s only been 30 minutes into the party and surprisingly, most of my family is already here. Even my brother Bradley came over from the frat house he lives in, and he’s barely over.
Frankly, Im tired, bored, and done with accepting wet pieces of candy from my toddler cousins.
I had a crazy idea to search.
Let’s have some fun here.
I looked down in front of me. Ethan’s mouth was stained blue from the lollipop he had in his hand. As he extended out his hand for me to lick it, I searched “Number of people killed” as I turned my head away. “0” it said.
This was pretty amusing. I started going around the room. Aunt Sandy “0”, Mom “0”, Uncle Ben “0”, Max “0”, Doug “0”, ok...Doug kinda surprised me. Bradley
“0”.
Wait. “1”. Wait “2”. Why is it going up? Im staring right at him! He’s not doing anything!
“3”. “4”.
My heart is racing out of my chest and my limbs were frozen in fear and confusion.
“Bradley!” I called out. He looked up from sipping his Bud-light beer. “Did anything happen today? Just now even?”
He looked up in recollection briefly.
“No, I just baked some pot brownies for my frat brothers before, but nothing crazy.”
“Did you add anything else to them? Did you turn off the oven?” I frantically asked.
The death toll kept going up “5”. “6.”
“Oh shit...I don’t think I turned off the oven, but one of them probably took care of it.” He took another swig of his beer. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”
Dude...you have no idea. | My mother was always a weird one. I loved her, don’t get me wrong - but she was weird. I stared at her wide-eyed, confused, when her kills came up.
One.
How could she have killed anyone? Yes, she was kooky, but she could never lay hands on someone with malice. She just liked to talk to her lemon tree, watering it carefully, sitting under it, and reading aloud.
"Honey, come and tell Margaret goodnight!” My mother called out to me.
This was a tradition since I was a boy. I never understood talking to this lemon tree and telling it good night. But I did it, for my mother.
“Goodnight, Margaret!”
—
I was dressed in black, frozen. She told me to make sure to take care of Margaret.
I finally understood, and I stared at the death certificate for the stillborn my mother had.
Margaret.
My older sister.
edit: accidental offensive comment edited out | 2019-07-01T23:13:12 | 2019-07-01T20:14:16 | 146 | 89 |
[WP] You arrive in the year 1000, and all you have are the clothes on your back, a laptop with the entire Wikipedia library, and a solar charger. | Being considered a demi-god is never as fun as you would think. No, it's not because assassins are after you half the time. Nor is it because the king who you have decided to "help" is too stupid to understand simple economics. No, it's because you can barely find cocaine in this damned place.
And my king was too cheap to try and look for it in other places. But he is fine with dropping all of his fortune on fancy fucking balls where no one gets laid. I have all the knowledge of the modern world, and history was at my finger tips, but WHAT DOES A TIME TRAVELER HAVE TO DO TO GET SOME FUCKING COCAINE OVER HERE?
"My Lord Wizard, you are talking to the air again," said my bodyguard, a large, stern man.
"Shut the fuck up, Jarvis."
Jarvis nodded. His helm swung as he did so.
That wasn't his real name. It's what I named him. Because I like Iron Man. I tried slapping him, but stumbled and had to be rescued by him.
"Gandalf!" shouted the king, walking into my tent.
"Jimmy!" I exclaimed.
Jimmy scrunched his face, as if he smelled a rotting body. No one had the heart to tell him that the smell was him.
"Are you drunk, Gandalf?" the king asked, steadying me.
"Noooooo."
"You're supposed to be my Royal Wizard... you are supposed to help me win this battle."
His face twisted into one of sorrow, his eyes twinkling with righteous disappointment. My father had the same face.
"What else am I supposed to do in this world without that sweet, sweet, Wall St. powder?"
"Wall Street? We are outside Baron Kelmy's castle, Gandalf. Our army will strike soon. He won't be able to last any longer. You have to help us land the final blow."
"Fine. Fine."
Reluctantly, I grabbed my laptop and viewed my battle plans. I made the morning before when I was sober. DIDN'T THINK I WOULD BE THAT CLEVER, DID YOU?
"This odd shouting magic of yours always gives me chills," said the King. Jarvis nodded solemnly, stopping when I caught his eye.
It only took an hour or so to break through Kelmy's castle doors. Maybe it took longer, I passed out sometime during the battle and woke up on his throne. Kelmy lay on the ground, panting alongside the corpses of his family.
"You are a tyrant, James," croaked Kelmy. "You and that demon-spawn Wizard of yours!"
"Now, now listen," I said, before ole Jimmy could get own with the slash-n-dash. I stumbled up to Kelmy, or somewhere near his three bodies.
"It's really rude to call another person 'demon-spawn', especially when that person holds your life in their hands." I undid my zipper. I invented a prototype right after I arrived in this place.
Kelmy spit, but luckily the gob of saliva and blood missed my dong-a-long.
With the might of a thousand horses, my wine-filled piss splashed all over Baron Kemly and his family. I could barely hear the king swear over my thundering rush of my man-juice. Wait, no, my man-juice was what I called the other thing that came out my dong.
That man-juice came out later that night, when I bought a dozen new girls for my growing harem. Okay so there was two things a man could do without cocaine. But could you really fault me for complaining about its absence?
| I should have prepared more. I didn't though it will work on the first run. And the return mechanism is not ready yet - and never will be now. I do have most of the required knowledge and a good memory of my own plans but even with all that knowledge I'll never be able manufacture, or in that manner, create the machinery to manufacture the delicate and microscopic components of the machine. Not in my life time.
But first I need to ensure the safety of the laptop. I could dig a hole and hide it but the ground is damp and I don't have plastic bags. And it could rain any time.
Anyone interested in part 2?
Edit: Part 2
I'll just hide it under the coat. Damn! My clothes! I don't want to draw attention.. Think think.. Dirt. I'll pretend as a beggar. First I need to get rid of the shoes. I'll dig here.. Shoes are gone, hope nobody ever find them. Now let's get dirty.. Ok but something is missing.. I need to wear the clothes. I'll rub it with this rock. A little hole here and a little rub there. Looking good. Were there socks in that time? Let's check.. There were but not machine knitted and definitely not for beggar status. Off they go.
I'm walking 10 minutes and my feet are already hurt. I'll just rip the bottom part of the coat and wrap it around feet.. It still hurts but a little less.
Ok. I can see the village. I hope the people are nice. But what should I do? I need shelter but I don't have any money. It's probably some silver and gold coins. Lets see... Silver and Cooper also. Wait a minute!!! The silver mine 10 kilometers to the South. When did they found it? Lets see... They found the first nugget only 200 years from now. That is great! I can later go there and look for some nuggets to get me started. For now I'll try to find some shelter and food in exchange for some work they might have for me.
To be continued? | 2016-12-27T14:32:53 | 2016-12-27T12:31:19 | 85 | 21 |
[WP] "If we survive this, we'll be heroes!" "And if we don't survive?" "Then we'll be legends." | “If we survive this, we’ll be heroes!” Their pilot said, excited, looking back from his seat at the other crewmates of the *DS Genesis.* This was, after all, the first ever manned FTL flight that the species known formerly only to themselves would make. The engineer of the ship, a bulky woman originating from some place along the border of Canada and the United States, perked her head out of a vent that she was doing maintenance on and faced the pilot.
“And if we don’t?” The engineer replied snappily, always the pessimist. She managed to put a frown on the face of the pilot, a young man from Kenya, who almost always wore a smile with his uniform, and with pride too.
The cockpit went silent for a moment, with not a noise being produced by any of the six people who were tasked to the DS Genesis. It seems the half-joke of the engineer had revealed what everyone in the ship was secretly fearing. It was, after all, a dangerous mission- they could be torn apart as soon they made the jump, with their innards splatting against the ship’s walls. The pilot was going to say something back, but the captain spoke up this time, to the light surprise of everyone.
“Then we’ll be legends.” The old man from Scotland said. Everyone looked toward him, as he was normally silent except for when giving commands, almost never paying any energy toward the camaraderie that the other shipmates might partake in. The captain was staring out the pilot’s window, taking in the empty space in front of them, seeing nothing but a blackness filled with stars.
“Yeah right… we’ll just be another grave and another number for them to work out.” Replied the engineer. Though she was certainly sarcastic before, the captain challenging her joke gave her an opportunity to actually express her views.
“Maybe not by name, but they’ll remember us. They might not remember me as Cameron Akir, or you as Jessica Mitchell, but rather as the captain and the engineer. We’ll be thought of us a tragedy, but when they finally make it, they’ll remember us as the legends that paved the way to humanity’s most vibrant success.” The captain began. He turned his entire body from the mirror and was now facing his crew, arms held tightly behind his back.
“And that’s only if we perish. When we survive, the accolades we’ll get will be even greater. But of course, that’s not what we’re looking for. We’re looking to expand the knowledge of humanity- live or die, that’s what we’re doing. Live, we’ll be heroes, die, we’ll be legends. Either way the children will look up to us and they’ll name schools after us and build statues to us. We’ve devoted our lives to two things, adventure and science, both are fields in which the fear of dying is not welcome.” The captain continued. Everyone slowly started to smile a bit, including the captain, but he turned towards the window so his crew couldn’t see.
“Yes! That’s exactly what I was going to say… eh more or less. Anyway, the jump’s in 30, get in position everyone.” The pilot exclaimed. Everyone rushed to their seats, and 30 minutes later, they shot off faster than any one human has ever gone.
“DS Genesis, this is homeland, give us confirmation of survival.” A voice from a speaker inside the ship said after they had traveled an incomprehensible distance from where they first were positioned.
“This is Captain Akir… and uh…” The captain started to chuckle, not able to believe what he was doing experiencing. The rest of the crew started to come to their senses, as cheering could be heard. “We made it.” | A bomb went off nearby, killing however many more poor souls who were dragged into this pointless war. From inside a broken building, just out of range of the blast, a pair sat with their backs to the wall. One smoked a cigarette, the red fumes floating off into nothingness.
"It would appear we are fucked." the smoker mused. He took another drag as his companion examined her nails. "I think this is the first time we have ever been truly able to say 'I lost.' To think we'd face an enemy so damn violent..." He smirked. "I have to admit, I enjoyed this."
"Nothing wrong with that." she answered. "It was gonna happen sooner or later, anyway."
"Still going to get us killed."
"Again."
"Again." He paused. He flicked the butt away, his cig spent. "Do you think we can do this without dying and without making things worse? It'd be easier if we went the whole hog, but our... *'allies'* would probably paint a target on our backs."
She shrugged. "Dunno, don't care. Far as I see it, it's a win-win situation."
"Elaborate."
"If we survive this, we'll be heroes!" she said. "Imagine it; all the girls just fawning over me!"
He chuckled. "Typical! But say we *don't* survive. Aside from the obvious fact it's not our problem anymore, and we can just continue in the next life. What then?"
"Then we..." she spread her arms, "become LEGENDS!"
For once, in an extraordinarily rare event, he laughed. Whether it was because of the melodrama, his cynicism, something else, or perhaps some combination of the above, he laughed.
When he regained his composure, he commented "I think I'm alright becoming a legend." He stood up, bones popping and snapping back into place. "Well, *that's* given me a taste for a little Deicide."
He turned back to her, his grin crooked with gleeful malice.
"*Shall we*?" | 2022-02-27T17:43:26 | 2022-02-27T17:30:35 | 126 | 42 |
[WP] Nobody has a freaking clue how they've done it, but astronauts have smuggled an 800lb grand piano onto the ISS. Nobody at Nasa can figure out how angry or impressed they should be | “Soooo, your not mad are you?” he said from the screen. Well actually from orbit.
&nbsp;
I wasn’t sure if I was or not. Behind him floating because it had not been secured yet was an eight hundred pound baby grand piano. One of the other astronauts was floating with it and guiding it so it would not slam into any of the expensive equipment lining the walls of the International Space Station.
“But how” I started to say, obviously trying to grasp how the astronaut in front of me had managed to get this onto the shuttle let alone do it without throwing the fuel consumption off dramatically. I brought up another window in the screen and checked the projected fuel usage versus the fuel that was actually used. The estimates were right on the mark, so how had they gotten that eight hundred pound monstrosity up there?
&nbsp;
Sighing I lean back thinking about how this “game” had come about. Quite a few missions ago Janice McBarron had snuck a vintage wine up to the ISS, and became the first person to open a near priceless wine in space. Ever since then each group of astronauts had tried to sneak something special up with their loads. And every time they got in trouble. This time it was not contraband, unlike all the other times. There was even a Remington shotgun secured in a displace case up there now, from the mission after McBarron.
&nbsp;
Finally finding my voice I spoke to him, “I’m not sure; I mean you did bring it up without approval, but how?”
&nbsp;
“Oh a friend dropped it off.” He said as he floated circling the edge of the screen.
&nbsp;
I stared at him a moment, trying to decipher if he was lying. Why would he lie? But then what “friend” would be able to deliver a baby grand piano to the ISS? I’m not being paid enough for this, I thought, as I closed the feed and bumped it up the chain of command, and maybe they would be able to figure that out.
&nbsp;
I just closed my eyes for a moment when I heard, “WHAT THE HELL!?!” echoing down the hallway just outside the control room, Well at least I wasn’t the only one, I mused still both impressed and annoyed at the man in the station miles above the planet.
| "God f***ing damnit, stop playing around!" Was the cry of the man running the NASA control centre. Steve was a week from retirement and he did NOT need this. Somehow, someway, the astronauts had smuggled an 800lb grand piano on the ISS. How?! Why?!
The astronauts did not answer. One of them was extremely talented, playing various famous tunes on the piano. Steve was at his wits end. It was hard enough trying to consider the how and why, but it piased him off to get no answer. "Just tell us!" He said, the rest of the control centre trying to ignore Steve getting angrier and angrier.
Eventually Steve gave up, and on his final day, a week later, Steve's head almost exploded. They had managed to create an orchestra out of the astronauts! | 2017-10-12T06:03:09 | 2017-10-12T04:49:00 | 90 | 17 |
[WP] Due to a severe lack of gold, a dark wizard is forced to convert his kingdom of monsters into a family-friendly zoo to raise funds for his upcoming invasion | Lets face it, conquering the known world and cementing my place in history as 'Agamemnon the Powerful, Ruler of the Black Sands, Destroyer of the Northern Kingdoms, General of the Undead Armies of Ulgoroth' was never going to happen when my bottom line was swimming in a sea of red.
I'll admit I may have been a little harsh with the accountants at first. All 4 gave the same report, *no gold in the reserves* they said. AKSHASH MAZEK I said, and they burst into flames while maggots filled their organs.
But I listened to number 5.
'Mr Memnon' he said, 'All the mercenaries are leaving, we can't keep the corsairs running raids for us if we can't pay them. Unfortunately their love for gold seems to be more powerful than their fear of you.'
I almost smote him on the spot. The fireball was conjuring in my hand and I nearly sent him to the nether realms when it hit me. I was broke.
'Be gone.' I told him. I stood and walked over to the balcony and began contemplating my options. I had come so far, it was my dark power that had conjured the black storms that raged constantly over these lands. It the sacrifice of my sanity that opened the door to planes of existence that would cause a normal mans eyes to melt from their sockets and his head to explode if he looked on them, and when those holier than though templars launched a 150,000 man army against me IT WAS ME AND ONLY ME THAT TAMED AN ARMY OF TOOTH WORMS TO DEFEAT THEM FROM THE INSIDE OUT! Literally.
No one even appreciates how hard it is to train something whose only two sensory inputs are eating and shitting.
And now I couldn't buy a vial of demon blood if it was on sale.
I thought about ending it right then and there. Throw myself from the parapet and let the ogres clean up my remains. How's that for an epitaph? The All Powerful Agememnon, he left this world as ogre shit. At least I had the comfort of knowing all my monsters would roam the world causing havoc.
Then it hit me. A zoo. A monster zoo. Everything dark, everything evil known for causing death destruction and terror, all locked up safely behind bars. People would pay me to face their fears. They would pay me to conquer them.
Oh it was rocky at the beginning. We quickly learned that some things aren't so great with cages. Dragons for instance. Luckily we were able to just take the burnt visitor remains and use them as feed for some of the other creatures.
The basilisk exhibit was a big hit in theory. We finally had to cut it but the new statuary park is a great place to relax.
And then there was the Hall of the Succubus. That was a little too popular with some of the men.
But we got our act together and quick. Now people come from all over to see our trained Cerberus trick show. We've got the Minotaur guided maze tour, and the 'Pick the Golem Out of The Crowd Show' is a huge hit with families.
The petting zoo still needs some work but we're pretty happy with our one point three percent casualty rate. And speaking of casualties, I was able to retrain the tooth worms to clean up waste both animal and.. er ah human.. as it were, or used to be.
I'm rolling in gold now. I've never seen so much. I had to empty the dungeons to make room for it all and that's no small task when ninety percent of your castle is made up of dungeons. I've got so much gold even the dragons think I'm over doing it.
I could mount a thousand incursions now, I could hire every mercenary and pirate from here to the edge of the world and still have gold to spare but, well I'm just so busy now. I mean we just opened up three new stalls and I think the Manticore strips are going to be a huge hit. I'll get back around to conquering the world but the zoo needs a little more work.
Now if you'll excuse me, the leviathan show is about to start. | “How do they expect me to make it “Family friendly?” I barely have enough gold to get myself a bowl of soup! Not that it matters… I guess i can *try* and make a forcefield, but *ohhhhh* those are bubbles, and this cave is quite small. And ever-”
“Sire! Calm down, try and concentrate, they need safety so give it to them!”
“You're right, you're right, my minion.” He stops shuffling back and forth in a stroke of genius and an awe of inspiration looms over his face
“THAT'S IT!”
In a nearby vague village billboard…
“Come on down to the cove and see magical creatures not of this land, five gold entry… sounds suspicious from a wizard… did he stray from his evil past?”
“Don’t trust the fool, he hast not of this land. Come on darling dont pay attention to those… is that a dragon?”
Against the poster of the zoo is a parchment of the creatures; labeling on the top “Some of the creatures in the cove to see!” and the one dead center in large is a beautiful scaled red dragon that looks to be the size of his leg and barely breathing fire. Looks as if all the creatures are of similar caliber.
“Mommie mommie! I wanna go!” “Me twoo!”
Fifty people or so gather around the cave waiting for the opening of the zoo to see the mythical creatures, paying at the booth labeled “GOBLINS ENTRY COLLECTION” to pay for entry
“We have so many people because of that dragon, ready to show them my minion?”
“Yesss mastarr.”
The wizard pulls down the rope moving the crimson fabric outward in a poetic fashion, two trumpets burst out of nowhere and seemingly everywhere showing a variety of beasts from a beautiful blue lion with carpet styled script circles that connect together to make a pattern going along from tail to head, to the giant dragon with shining crimson scales sleeping cozily in the corner with its head on a rock and hand. People awe and woo and children drool as they usually do.
The children who had no fear ran straight up to the beasts to be blocked by an invisible barrier and the lion eyed them over and yawned furiously to only drop to the floor and wash itself. The barrier apparently is quite well done that it creates a corridor to view all the beasts, there is even a neat shop with sweaters that say “Neat creatures, me liek?” with varying colors.
“Yeesss…. Mastarr…. It is going to plann… With this we will rule over the land another way…”
“Yes. I will be the greatest Wizard… Beast tamer? God I haven't thought that through.”
Edit: Grammar
Edit 2: Removed useless line | 2015-11-30T10:51:13 | 2015-11-30T10:16:31 | 99 | 18 |
[wp] You work at an office in Hell. You don't live in Hell, nor are you trapped their for eternity. Lucifer just thinks you're excellent at Excel. | It's always on these first dates when I have to explain that I'm not talking about my job in hyperbole.
"Oh my god, yes," the blonde across the table from me sighed, rolling her eyes. "My job totally feels like hell, too."
"Not feels like hell," I corrected. "Is in Hell."
She blinked at me. Pretty blue eyes, although they were totally empty of comprehension.
"I work in Hell. In their Accounts Receivable division."
"Is Hell the name of some company?"
I shook my head. "The real Hell. Fire and brimstone, Lucifer and his cohorts, all of that." I pointed downwards, and I wasn't indicating the wood of the table. "Although it's more of an office setting. Lots of cubicles. Here." I reached around in my pocket, pulled out my badge. It featured a pentagram in red metal, attached to a black leather backing.
"Wow," she said, picking up the badge and tracing the pentagram with a finger before passing it back. "So, like, Hell is real?"
I sighed. Just once, I wanted the first date conversation to breeze easily past the job discussion, instead settle on a more fun topic. Nobody ever asked about the summer I spent hiking the Appalachians, or how I brewed not-totally-awful cider in my garage.
"Yeah, it's real. Souls come in, get tortured for their past crimes, demons run around and cause chaos, the whole thing. More or less. I don't go out much on the main work floor."
The waiter stopped by. My date wasn't ready to order yet (she hadn't even opened the menu), so I asked for some fries as an appetizer.
"Who ends up there?" she asked next. Her hand came up to her neck, and I saw her finger slip around a thin gold chain that dropped towards the neckline of her shirt. There was probably a cross hanging from that necklace.
I shrugged. "Not really my department. The higher-ups select the people whose souls are there; I just help them manage technology. They're really behind the times when it comes to tracking and inventory management, even worse than the government."
"So..." she bit her lip, thinking. "You're like tech support? But for Hell?"
I sighed, hating that label, but nodded. It was easier than explaining the whole story, how I'd answered a rather vague job posting and found myself descending several hundred stories in a rickety elevator, down to an uncomfortably warm conference room where I answered interview questions while trying to not stare too badly at the horns coming out from the grumpy being on the other side of the table. I'd described the basics of inventory tracking as I slowly sweated through my shirt, and although I got nothing but barely suppressed aggression from my interviewers, I think I at least convinced them of my aptitude. A couple weeks later, I got a callback with an offer.
"How is it? Do you... do you like working for them?"
I shrugged. "Pretty much everything about it is awful, but they pay pretty well, and the checks never bounce." The offices were always too warm, and all my clothes now smelled faintly of rotten eggs from the sulfur. They offered free snacks and lunch, but the food was always disgusting, reminding me of my middle school cafeteria. The coffee was also free, but it tasted like swill; I'd snuck my own little Mr. Coffee down to my desk.
"That's fascinating. I've never met someone from down there." The girl blinked, realized that she hadn't yet opened her menu. "Sorry for asking all the questions." She ran her eyes down the list of appetizers, and then looked up at me. I could only see the upper half of her face over the menu. "You're cuter than I thought a demon would be."
"Not a demon," I said, although I smiled back at her as I did so. I reached up and brushed my hair back from my forehead. "No horns, see? And no pointy tail."
"You might be lying about the tail," she countered, and I could hear her smiling back at me.
"Maybe you'll get a chance to check for yourself, later," I flirted, surprising myself with my own boldness.
Thankfully, the waiter returned before things grew awkward, and we placed our order. I chose the cheeseburger, while she went with a tofu stir-fry. He collected the menus, removing our shields.
"So, what about you?" I asked, after he'd stepped away from the table. "Not that I'm expecting you to have a hotter job than working in Hell itself, but what do you do?"
For a moment, I saw her hesitate. Did she not want to tell me, fearing that the more I knew about her, the closer she'd be associated to Hell itself? A mix of emotions - uncertainty, wariness, doubt - all flicked over her fine-boned, pixie-cute features.
Finally, she seemed to reach a decision. She didn't speak, but turned around to reach into her purse. She pulled out something, the size of a small wallet, and passed it over to me.
I looked down at it, opened my mouth, but didn't seem to have any words to speak. I opened the pure white leather billfold, touched the golden infinity symbol attached to the inside.
"So," I finally got out.
"So."
"Is the coffee any better up there?"
She laughed, an adorable little tinkle of silver bells. "Not really. It's delicious, don't get me wrong, but apparently caffeine is forbidden in Heaven."
"You're kidding me." I groaned, leaning back and shaking my head. "That's awful. All of a sudden, I'm not quite as eager to see those pearly gates for myself."
Ten minutes later, our food arrived, sitting almost unnoticed in front of us and growing slowly cold as we continued the best conversation I'd had in months. | "Bye sweetie!" I give my wife a deep kiss and get in my car for work. I am just a normal 30 year old accountant who works in a normal, not too big not too small firm, making spreadsheets, checking them and re checking them for 5 hours a day, with a few breaks in between.
Except, I am not a normal employee.
I reach a T-intersection, and just before reaching the turning point, I press a red button right below the radio and drive straight into the wall.
BBBAAMMM!!!
-was not heard as there was no collision and instead I entered a tunnel. Not a physical one but one in another dimension. As I am driving through, I see another car coming straight behind me. And then, I was out of the tunnel and in a normal office parking lot.
I park the car, wait for a few moments, see the other person coming, go up to him and say, "Good morning Jeff. Doing good?"
"Good morning to you too, Jace. I am doing fine. What about you?"
"Same here. Hey, I am sorry for what happened yesterday. You managed to complete it?"
Suddenly, Jeff's face goes from a happy face to a confused one for just a moment before it is replaced by very mild anger.
"Ah, about that. Thanks for reminding me. Taking in sight of my track record and the circumstances, where *you* didn't wait and turned off the mains before checking for anyone else, I was let off with just a slight warning."
He fished out a few pages from his bag and gave it to me.
"Now, here are the pages. Since I didn't do them yesterday, because of you, you will be doing them today in my stead."
"I would love to help but you know they don't allow us to do other's work..."
"No but(t)s, I already got one last night. No one's going to know. You are the most hard-working guy here. What we do in 8 hrs, you do in 5 hrs. I am sure you can do this. I am counting on you. Besides, it was your fault anyways. Good luck."
By now, we were at our floor so he immediately bee-lined for his own desk, leaving the papers in my hands.
"That lazy ass... Might as well do it and be done with it..." I grumbled to myself.
So I started my computer and opened MS-Excel. Before starting, as usual, I took a look outside the window to motivate myself.
The sky outside was just the normal red with bits of violent mixed in. There were the usual fiends strolling about, succubi flying around, stalkers stalking their targets, beholders beholding the scene and some more demons strolling about whose specie I did not know. There were some volcanoes erupting in the background and a lot of hot springs here and there.
It motivated me because I did not want to be here. Red just isn't my type. I prefer green. At home, I usually spend all the time with my wife in our garden.
A spectre dropped a big pile on my desk and pulled me out of my thoughts.
*Lets just do it.*
I start with the first page.
Name - Stella Lye
DOB - 20 Mar 1998
DOD - 28 Feb 2018
Cause - Chocking on her dildo
Name - Dane Targo
DOB - 21 Jan 1998
DOD - 28 Feb 2018
Cause - Food poisoning due to week old pizza
...
After a few hours, I am finally done with the pile and start packing up, when I notice the pages that Jeff gave me.
*Oh, I forgot about them. Let's just do it right away.*
So I open Excel again, read the first name and go into shock.
Name - Julie Naier
DOB - 17 Dec 1998
DOD - 27 Feb 2018
Cause - Shot by her boyfriend
Julie Naier is my wife.
I get a mini heart attack when I see the cause. But finally calm down when I notice the DOB. My wife's birthday comes on 19 Nov.
*Come on Jace. Calm down. This isn't your wife. She is safe and sound.*
Then I read the next name, again get a mini heart attack, but this time die for real.
Name - Jace Wilch
DOB - 2 Jul 1988
DOD - 27 Feb 2018
Cause - Heart Attack | 2018-02-27T14:03:15 | 2018-02-27T09:43:33 | 460 | 106 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily. |
Screams filled Supreme Commander Zoltork’s mind as he tapped into the Fourth Landing Team’s comm net. From his vantage point on the bridge of the Pharex, he was able to monitor the data coming in from his soldiers on the ground.
With a flick of one of his 6 arms, he activated a hologram. Something wasn’t right. The Fourth’s mission was to secure an agricultural zone on this backwoods planet. A routine operation which should have taken no more than 6 rotations of this insignificant rock. There were far less blue triangles moving about the hologram than he had expected. A series of red squares blinked in and out from various locations.
He closed his eye stalks to better focus on the psychic feed from his warriors.
*Pain. So…much pain. “DAR’OG!! THEY’RE IN THE TRE…”*
*“Eighth squad, move to sector 3 and stop that thing!”*
*“ARRRGur…\*weeze\*”*
*Phase beams are starting to fall silent.*
*Frantic breathing.*
*The sound of combustion engines can be heard roaring in the distance.*
*The retort of primitive weapons is growing louder.*
Zoltork’s mandibles slammed shut as he spun to another control console. His advisors twitched nervously behind him. Bringing forth video feeds from his squad leaders was a simple task. He only needed to think of what he wanted to see and his psychic link with the ship would provide him the data he required.
The vision of his last squad leader filled his mind. The perspective was odd. Baeroth must not be on his feet…
*Black smoke billowed from three ancient machines. They rolled forward steadily on large, black wheels. The cockpits lacked any sort of shield for the operator. A male of the human species sat gripping what appeared to be a large steering device between his hands. His lips bulged, as if packed with some sort of stimulant. The creature had facial hair that went half way down his torso.*
*Behind the cockpit, there was another male. Younger than the pilot, he had a cloth wrapped around his face. Images were painted upon it…a macabre depiction of the species’ face, as if the flesh had been cleaned from it. The primitive weapon in his hands was supported by a metallic mount. Smoke spewed from the ejection port. Black powder, solid projectile weapons…*
*Mounted on the rear of the machine, sat two large pieces of cloth, blowing in the wind. Strange emblems were painted on its face. Stars set in a blue field. Red and white stripes tattered and ragged. This image filled Baeroth’s vision before fading to black.*
Impossible. This species has not known conflict in over 300 cycles! Zoltork quickly cycled through the reports of the other landing teams. All units were receiving heavy resistance. Zoltork spun to consult with his war advisors. Preparations for the second wave must be made… | We got the data. We got the intel. We knew of their past and how violent the the humans were. After continuing to watch the humans for the past 300 Earth years they become peaceful after their third global conflict. The casualties reached to 4 billion by the time it ended. The country in the western hemisphere known as "The United States" were the most affective in that war. Their only equal was another country called "Russia" and they were using strategies that allowed them to push back many of their opposing forces. The war ended wuth only the remnants of their governments. They came together and created a unified government to prevent such loss of life again. Now, we invade. They are distant from their violent past. We sent our ships to destroy their cities and show them who their masters will be. I made a fatal mistake of underestimating the humans. It only took them 1 months for them to fully mobilize their resources to war. Their soldiers were givin weapons that pierced our shields and armor. They used what ever military resource the had to down one of our ships. They reverse engineered our technology and their unity has been strengthened by the fact that we have come to dominate them. Humans, their greatest asset is not their numbers or intelligence, it is their will. There are now soldiers who have decimated our forces. Now, they have come to capture me. | 2019-02-26T07:46:55 | 2019-02-26T07:32:54 | 278 | 70 |
[WP] You have been told all your life that you have a rare medical condition. It means you need regular special meals that your family has lovingly prepared. You now find out that your "condition" actually requires fresh human flesh and your family have become serial killers to keep you alive. | “Is that… daddy?”
Mummy was quiet, her eyes fixed on the screen.
I asked again, louder this time. Maybe mummy didn’t hear me. “Mummy, is that daddy on the TV?”
Mummy was still quiet. She looked scared. He eyes and mouth were wide open. She slowly sunk to the chair, but her eyes did not leave the screen.
“No, no, no, no…” she began to say, shaking her head.
I tried to read the words on the screen, but I could not understand it. Mummy and daddy never bothered to teach me words. They said that I did not need it. Not that they had the time. Daddy was always out while mummy always had house work to do.
I thought maybe I could understand what the TV was saying. I reached out for the controller, but mummy quickly slapped my hand. The controller dropped on the floor.
“No, James! No!” she screamed at me. The loudest I have ever heard. Her body was shaking. “You go into your room now!”
“But mummy…” I tried to protest, but mummy cut me short.
“I SAID GO TO YOUR ROOM!”
I ran along the small hallway, afraid that I might make mummy even angrier. Just as I stepped into my room, I felt mummy’s hands pushing me from behind. I fell forward to the hard floor and the door slammed behind me. Keys turned in the lock.
“I’m sorry James,” mummy sobbed from the other side of the door. “I cannot let them take your dad because of you.”
I don’t understand. I ran to the door and asked mummy to let me out. Who were the people who took daddy? Why did they take daddy because of me?
“Mummy, let me out!” I shouted, but there was no reply. I heard the engine of our house starting and we began to move. Mummy was driving.
“Mummy!” I shouted again. My cries were drowned out by the sound of our house moving.
I looked around my room trying to find a way out. I could not understand what mummy was doing, why she was acting crazy?
The day started like any normal day. We woke up, had our breakfast like usual. Mummy and daddy ate bread, while I ate meat soup. Everything was made by them. I tried to offer them some of my soup as usual, but mummy just scoffed at me.
Daddy, however, smiled. “Son, you know why mummy and I cannot eat your soup. It’s only special to you.”
I sighed. It was something that daddy said too many times.
“How long more can we keep this up, Andrew?” mummy suddenly asked. Her bread was barely bitten. They tried to feed me bread before, but I just became very sick and vomited all over the floor. It was the same for everything else. Only meat soup didn't make me sick.
"As long as we can, Stella", Daddy simply replied. I could see that Mummy wanted to say something more, but stopped.
After we finished breakfast, Daddy headed outside. To make my meat soup, he said. It was something he do every week. That was the last time I saw daddy before I saw him on the TV.
The house suddenly screeched to a stop. I heard doors opening outside and mummy's heavy footsteps.
"Mummy?" I asked again, scared of what mummy might leave me alone.
My room door opened, and mummy was holding a hot bowl of meat soup in her hands. Her cheeks were red and wet.
"Here, eat this," she looked at the bowl, barely hiding her looks of disgust. "You'll need it to save your daddy."
-----------
/r/dori_tales | Hungry. Why am I always *so* hungry? It’s like I was born with a black hole in my gut, sucking whatever food I shove in there before the nutrients are absorbed by my body. I’ve heard the word ‘full’ before, but have no idea what it means, not truly. For me it's nothing more than a wish.
I hear stories from my family about how I nearly died as an infant because of it. I cried and cried, begging for food, but nothing they gave me was satiating. Mother tells me Dr. Bresker, a man forever clad in black robes speckled with gold, diagnosed me with a condition. One that required special food they must go out and hunt for, meat from a game very rare in the mountains.
It is such a sweet taste. The pleasure of it sends chills running up my spine, racking my body with quivers, but not when I feel the sweetness in my mouth. It enters my stomach, and I *feel* it for a moment before it disappears, and only then am I allowed to feel satiatied, even if it isn't for more than a few hours. Zen.
I grow restless after that. Angry, after a day passes where we're out of the flesh. I see fear in their eyes when they fail to produce, a fear not befitting such a frail and pale boy as me. They take turns visiting my room, where I remain bedlocked, one at a time. Wishing me well and saying odd prayers of reverance. They come through sickness and injury, even when pallid or wrapped in bloodied bandages.
They sometimes speak too loud in nearby rooms when I appear to be sleeping, whispering amongst themselves on days when Dr. Bresker stops by to check on me. ‘Vessel’, they call me, panicking in the night.
“Do not anger it,” Bresker said, once. “Use yourself if you must. Trust that you will be rewarded once this is over.”
It is not me they fear, but the *hunger* itself… and it is not mine.
*/r/resonatingfury* | 2019-03-13T07:21:01 | 2019-03-13T07:17:05 | 251 | 132 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | Wow. Great.
I'm standing in the middle of the woods, with just my pijamas on.
I have no idea how I got here. It's cold, I'm tired, and I just want to go to bed. The only problem is, that I live in the middle of a large city, in a place, where even the nights are warm and the air is soft.
Here it's so cold, that my breath forms tiny clouds, and the air stings in my lungs.
I must be far away then.
I can't hear a sound. Not one. If we were near a city, I'd hear cars.
But that's not the strangest part. I can't even hear a bird, or the wind in the leaves.
Everything is so quiet. It's actually kind of nice.
Living in a large family, surrounded by a city that never sleeps, I actually never experienced silence. So I just close my eyes and ignore the cold.
As I open them again, I am looking straight into a face. Well, half of a face, as the man's left side is ripped right off, and the poor guy has a permanent half smile, due to the missing skin of his cheek.
I was pretty confused, as I didn't hear the half smile guy's footsteps, so I wonder, if I went deaf, so I scream the loudest "HELLO?" I've ever screamed.
I'm not deaf, although my voice doesn't echo.
The misshapen man jumps and looks confused. "Arren't you scared?" He asked a in a slurrend manner, while I watched his saliva , not held back by his lips, spray in the moonlight.
"Why should I? It's pretty realxing, actually." I said, while stretching out my arm to give him a handshake. "I'm Sasha"
The other half of his face started smiling too, and he looked genuenly happy.
"I'm Joe! I've been living here for the past 20 years, or maybe 40, who knows. People just randomly appear here, and I try to welcome them, but they always run away from me, for some strange kind of reason. I later find them, with their face chewed off. Probably by the crawling people around here. They have pretty sharp teeth."
I just stand there and nod time to time. As he tells me about things, I'm sure he just desperately wanted to tell someone else for years.
What a interesting place. Joe seems nice. Just the crawling woman, with the angriest face I've ever seen, coming nearer and nearer behind him, is a little distracting.
(Sorry about the english, I'm swiss)
| His numbered seconds flitted by,
He sat facing the screen.
He used to be a normal guy,
Back when he was a teen.
But when the dread came creeping in,
And drained his life and soul,
His feelings slipped out of his skin,
And left a gaping hole.
When outside, he adorned a mask,
That bore a practised smile.
He wandered, searching for a task,
To make his life worthwhile.
Alone he'd sit and hibernate,
And waste his fleeting days,
He barely slept and barely ate,
And hoped it was a phase.
He knew he was dysfunctional,
A faulty, glitched machine.
His illness: unexpungable,
And outwardly unseen.
He stumbled through his life, deadpan,
Feeling no joy or pain,
And thought of that young happy man,
He'd never be again. | 2017-05-05T07:30:17 | 2017-05-05T06:57:56 | 118 | 31 |
[WP] You were recently granted immortality by God. For years, you have seen immortal characters in media say that it is a curse, not a blessing. You just think those guys have been using it the wrong way. | There is nothing, nothing left...
I sit at the edge of the Brooklyn Bridge, eyes closed, feeling the gentle breeze hitting my face over the east river, thinking about the last time I had a conversation with God. It was full of excitement and hope. I was told that I could not die, no matter how hard I try, I am now, the only immortal being on this planet, I can, and will live forever!
It was great, unbelievably and indescribably great. I was living the life of a true immortal. I no longer had to work, worry about money, evening eating for that matter, all of the things mortals concerns themselves with. I didn't get old either. I stayed my forever 26 years old self. The world was my playground. I traveled all over, accepted gifts and worship everywhere I went. After all NOTHING can happen to me. Who said immortality is a curse not a gift, they are just using it wrong. I am no Peter Parker. There's no responsibilities to my powers. This gift is for me and me alone, I will enjoy life forever.
Then some time passed, I don't remember how long exactly as at this point the construct of time eludes me. Everything started to fade. The coast line of the the Aegean sea no longer puts a smile on my face. I've seen it a thousand times over. The best chefs can't cook a meal to cheer me up anymore because, what's the point? I am not even hungry and I ate them all. All desires started to fade. Food, sex, the biggest pleasures in the world no longer satisfy me. Most pleasures were born out of survival instincts to sustain and reproduce life. Neither of these things concerned me. I did have one thing, love. Love for my friends, family and romantic partners. One by one, I had to watch them die. Pain, slowly, overshadows all the joy I had once felt. So love too became foreign to me. Not because I didn't need it, or want it, it's because it now pains me. For someone that can't never die, pain is more real than ever. And for the first time in a long time, fear came back to me like an old friend. Except it's wearing different clothes. It's not fear itself, but the fear of love and the inevitable loss of love.
I reached out to God numerous time as I begin to understand the true meaning of immortality. No one answered. Come to think of it, it's been a while since God had spoken to anyone. It seems that he had abandoned us. I was the last symbol and reminder of his existence and power. But like him, I too faded away from people's minds. I slowly turn from "Living God on Earth" to another freak show, symptoms of mutation by radiation. Another freak.
I open my eyes and looked down. I see my legs dangling above the East River, in the middle of Brooklyn Bridge. Abandoned cars all around me and the smell of ash and fire engulfs the air around me. The once crown jewel of humanity is now a pile of rubble and dust. If I didn't know better, I think I am Will Smith in I am Legend. But this is no fiction and I am not nearly as good looking as Will Smith. But I cannot die and I am here to bare witness to it all.
I wipe the tears off my face. I try to not let emotions like these overcome me too much, but from time to time, it knocks on my door. As I get up to leave this hurtful place and back to my cave, I hear a voice. "John, you are now ready". | I spent my first few centuries in seclusion, sure being worshipped as a god was fun for a while but those petty mortals have no idea what it's like to live forever. I've had atleast ten generations come and go, while I keep living. The torture of getting married and watching your partner wither and grow old while you live in eternal youth, unaffected by disease unable to simply end it all...it's enough to drive a person mad.
I was there during the black plague, they had me dispose of those that had fallen to this brutally painful disease. I did catch the plague once or twice and it was agony, but alas it could not kill me so I was to live with the pain of my body trying to rid itself of this putrid infliction. Then there was the london fire, I was there for that aswell, I don't know what happened with that though I just snapped. I'd had enough of the pious morons worshipping the very ground I walk on so they just had to be...cleansed.
As the years dragged on I grew shallow and cold, hardened like stone by my years of ensuring mental and physical pain. It's too much to deal with and now, the only way I can really entertain myself is by travelling to different locations, making up some sort of bizzare urban legend and then making it come true. Nothing pleases me more now than inflicting upon others the same agonising torment that I've had to endure for years.
So let this be a warning to those of you who wonder what it would be like to be immortal, it is a sad, dark and lonely existence and it's just not worth it. Further more if you should happen upon some local urban legends it could well be that I'm not far from your home, in fact I could very well be in your home, waiting in the dark to snatch you from the darkness.
Out of everything I've just spoken of however, there is one thing that you can most definitely be certain of...I am the thing that goes bump in the night! | 2018-08-29T05:01:37 | 2018-08-29T04:09:20 | 34 | 10 |
[WP] After hearing complaints countless times the hero just turns himself in and goes to prison. Now that the villains are destroying the city and running wild everyone is trying the convince the hero to come out and save the day. But the hero is not having any of this shit | Malakai traced the lines of the brick in the walls of the phone room, humming softly to himself as the chaos outside barely reached him.
“Please! Mr. Weathers, we need Cosmodem! They’re wreaking havoc!”
“and... why would I come back, exactly? You were the one who insisted I come here, Charlie.” He gave a cold chuckle at the screams heard over the phone.
“Or do you take back what you said?” Moving from the wall to the cord of the phone, he traced the ridges as he grinned, hearing Charlie running for his life.
“I take it back! On behalf of Metropia, I take it all back!” The man on the phone begged, and Malakai twisted the cord around a finger, smile never leaving his lips.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please just, we need your help!”
“I won’t be coming back, Charlie. That would be breaking out of prison before my sentence was over. Nothing you can say can change my mind there. I’m an upstanding citizen, after all.” He replied with a chuckle.
“Mal, please! The city will be destroyed if you don’t step in!” A gunshot sounded over the phone, and Charlie cursed.
“and whose fault was that? Certainly not mine, I’m doing what I was told to do, by you, if you don’t recall. Not one of your finer moments, now, was it? Even after I’ve saved nearly everyone in this city twice over, you at least five, not counting all the times I’ve saved your family from plots and schemes, you repay me in slandering me and forcing me to end up here. Twenty five counts of property damage, three charges of attempted assault, I’m going to be in here a while.”
“Malakai, please!”
“Goodbye, Charlie.” He hung up the phone, smile finally slipping off his face. Glancing over to the clock, and then the guard on duty who appeared to be half asleep. Sighing to himself, he rubbed his eyes and glanced up at the too white ceiling. Letting the phone cord go, he left his hands in his lap and let out a breath.
The explosion of the wall didn’t phase him.
“Metaplex” he greeted, glancing over with tired eyes. The armored supervillain stared at the hero, visor flickering with unseen information.
“Cosmodem.” The mechanical voice responded.
“Malakai.” He corrected, leaning back on the poorly made chair.
“Is this a trick? They’ve put you in general prison.”
“Afraid not. I put myself in here after that... hm... annoying campaign for “justice for my actions”. It’s kinda funny, really. I suppose you were behind that attack just then? Charlie tried to reason with me. More begged for his life but hey... I’m a good citizen, I follow the laws.” He chuckled again.
“Of course. You know, my offer still stands now that you see the real thoughts of the masses.”
“Always one for the dramatics, Meta. They were whipped into a frenzy.” He shook his head with a shrug, then looked over.
“You know I might actually take it. That’s why you’re here, and not on some mass broadcast again, right?” When the villain didn’t answer, Malakai grinned again.
“You know that one speech that Riley made on nature vs nurture? I think it applies to things like us, too. Dunno about my nature, but I was made into this stupid persona, then practically chucked in here. It’s certainly making me question whether I’m an actual hero or just a tool made for it. The abstract concept of justice. Hero, hah. They wouldn’t know a good hero if they were hit across the face by it.” He crossed his arms, face furrowed in a frown
“You were made into what you were, you’ve said it yourself. Most of you were. Some are just evil in a human shell and most of you shun them. Now the civilians out there supported the campaign. They’re on Charlie’s side, not mine. Don’t care that I’ve saved them from all the things you and the others have cooked up. I’ve saved Charlie’s kid more times than I can count. She’s a good kid.” He muttered, then looked over to the idle villain again.
“Do you guys have some sort of code or...” Malakai trailed off, watching Metaplex’s carefully crafted mask crumble with a roaring laugh.
“You’re a riot, Cosmo. Let’s get you out of here.” | Ashley sighed, crossing her arms. "Duke, for the love of God, stop this and come out."
Duke stared at her, his face stoic as usual. "Alright."
Ashley tried not to get her hopes up. "Really? I'll go tell the warden to-"
"I'm completely heterosexual." Duke's grin spread from ear to ear as Ashley's face turned red from anger. "This isn't funny! Stop this petty fucking strike!" She wanted to reach through the bars of the cell and throttle the taller man. "We get it, Thistletown *needs* you, we've underappreciated you. We'll kiss your ass to hell and back if you would just leave this cell."
Duke shrugged. "Don't care. Why should I work myself half to death out there when I can just sit in here and get free food?" Ashley stared at him, completely dumbfounded. The cell was tiny and bare, with no other cellmates to talk to or anything to do aside from reading. "Well, aren't you bored? Isn't it lonely in here?" Duke shook his head. "I do literally nothing all day and get taken care of, Ashley. What's boring about that? Plus," Duke tapped his temple. "I can get my own amusement just from the weird thoughts people have in their heads in this place."
Ashley felt like she was damn near ready to explode from rage. "When did you become so selfish? This is just..." She felt disgust churning within her. "Pathetic." Duke's head snapped up with a glare. A plan started forming in Ashley's head.
"It really shows how shallow and weak-willed you are, y'know?" Ashley twirled her dark hair while she insulted the former hero. "Were you really just doing all that work for some praise? Are you sad that Mommy wasn't there for-"
Ashley cut herself off as Duke lunged at the bars of the cage, enraged by her mockery. The metal groaned and screeched, bending under the force of his body. "You shut up right now," the man seethed. Ashley had to suppress a smirk. This was dangerous, but it was going to achieve her goal. Even if Duke can read her mind and figure out exactly what she's doing, it's still going to cut deep enough to work eventually.
It'll take months. But he'll grow up and leave the prison eventually.
Ashley turned and strutted down the hall. "I'm off to go enjoy my freedom!" She called out. "I'll come back tomorrow with riveting news of how my day went, *all for you!~"*
The door slammed behind her. *And, of course,* she thought to herself. *I'm not going to be back tomorrow at all. Or the next day. Or maybe ever.* Her face scrunched up as she heard Duke screaming and some crashing noise while he destroyed his cell. *I'll fix the emotional damages after he gets out.* | 2021-03-18T15:56:21 | 2021-03-18T13:24:33 | 47 | 32 |
[WP] Grandma accidentally summoned a demon and mistakes him for her gothic-phase teenage grandson. | "Look at you! You're filthy! I can't believe your parents let you walk around dressed like that. A little discipline, that's all you ever needed."
Sephiroth was confused, until he saw the burning trash can in the backyard. Rat bones, chicken bones, several stalks of various vegetation and, there it was, down at the bottom. His symbol, on some printed flier for a third-rate punk band that probably didn't even know what it meant. Trash. He had been summoned by trash.
Well, let's try to make the most of this.
"There you are, Joseph. No, I don't care what you want to be called, Joseph is a good, Christian name, and it's what I'm going to call you. Your parents are far too permissive. What is it you're calling yourself these days?"
"Sephiroth, Prince of Da--" he couldn't even get his full name out.
"Steffy-Ross?? Good heavens. Well, *Joseph*, since you're here, you can help me out with a few chores. The gutter needs cleaning, and I'm too old to get up on the ladder. Liable to break a hip, you know, not that you would care."
"Fine." Seph replied. That's one, he thought to himself. Two more requests and her soul would be his. He got the ladder and got to work.
The gutters actually reminded him of Hell. Old, decaying matter. Lots of worms and other creepy crawlies. He actually didn't like that part of Hell, but he put up with it for the souls. After a couple hours, he finished up, hosed himself off, and headed inside.
"The gutters are clean, old woman," Sephiroth pronounced.
"Old woman?!?!" the old woman screeched. "How dare you call me that! No respect for your elders!! Spare the rod, spoil the child, that's what I always say. Obviously your parents disagreed." Seph found her shockingly annoying. He wouldn't have spent two seconds around her if he had a choice. Still - soul. "Here, I've got some boxes that need to go in the attic. While you're up there, make sure everything is nice and orderly. Last time you did this, you just tossed everything around. We're not living in a barn."
"Fine." Sephiroth replied. That's two. Just one more. He imagined the sensation of absorbing another person's will. It would be worth it.
The attic was hot. Holy hell, was the attic hot. After an hour of carrying and rearranging boxes, Sephiroth was dehydrated and lightheaded. God, these human bodies suck. You could feel the heat way more than in demon form. Sure, Hell is hot, but it's a dry heat. This is real torture.
He went back downstairs. The grandmother was in a recliner in front of the TV, showing Wheel of Fortune, volume cranked up all the way. He didn't even know TVs could get that loud anymore.
"Good, your done." Grandma peeled off her shoes, then her socks, then her supportive hose. "Now get over here and help your old grandma scrape her bunions."
Sephiroth could barely contain his revulsion. "Fuck. This." He disappeared in a puff of smoke, right in front of grandma's TV.
She smiled and reached for a clean pair of socks.
"Works every time." | "Hey. You summoned me?"
The old woman pushed her rounded glasses further up her nose, squinting at the man who had somehow appeared in her living room. He had black, greasy hair that framed his pointy chin and angular cheekbones in a Gerad way. He wore thick black eye liner, black eye shadow and black mascara. His clothes followed a similar fashion style: a my chemical romance shirt, rippled black jeans and painted fingernails in, you guessed it, black. However, this man wasn't the emo kid you saw crying in hot topic and posting on MySpace. This man was a demon from the firey depths of hell.
"Oh, Tommy. Would you be a dear and grab my slippers for me? They're in the hall." Said the old woman. The demon furrowed his brow in confusion, but went and got the old woman's slippers. They were pink and white, striped and fluffy.
"There you go," He placed them at her feet. The walls were absolutely covered with photos of the old woman's grandchildren. Three adorable boys. "Is this what you're selling yore soul for?" He raised a perfectly arched, dark-as-his-soul eyebrow.
"Don't be silly, Tommy. Have you been listening to too much of that panic stuff again? I told you, that music is satanic. Well, it's nice of you to visit me anyway, but you could have called."
"I don't think you know what's going on here, ma'am. I'm a demon. You summoned me. I'm not Tommy."
"I have cookies in the kitchen. Help yourself."
The demon sighed, shrugging his shoulders. Any more of these false calls this week and she was going to have to have a stern conversation with his manager. These humans are impossible.
"Sure. I'm starving." | 2018-04-09T11:48:46 | 2018-04-09T11:12:14 | 87 | 19 |
[WP] Write erotica of hilariously bad quality.
An example of what I'm looking for would be something like this:
She flopped onto the breakfast table like a wet sock, her eyes bulging with desire. Her body was covered in nudity. "I bet I can eat more pancakes than you," she coughed, lustily.
Have fun!
EDIT: I did a radio play of /u/Xiaeng's submission, which can be heard here:
https://soundcloud.com/contemptslot/weis-story
EDIT 2: **STOP POSTING 50 SHADES OF GREY. THIS WASN'T INSPIRED BY THAT, AND YOU AREN'T ORIGINAL OR FUNNY.** | Constance Gluggletine relaxed into her seat, the twin battleships of her buttocks unclenching just enough for the fine hessian weave to slide up and gently abrade her anus. She breathed out a lusty sigh, luxuriating in the feeling of Clive's hands kneading the hoary juts of her shoulders.
"Ohhhh Clive", she moaned, arching her back. "To think our preliminary health and safety lecture on the dangers of potholing through the London sewerage system would have ended like this."
"I know", came the emphysema punctuated reply. "When our eyes met over slide 4b, there was nothing clearer in the world to me".
Constance writhed as a fleck of Clive's lung-tissue arced up and over her shoulder, landing with a sensual splat on the quivering protuberance of her left teat. The two lovers slowly stood, and Constance reached down, sliding her hand under Clive's sensuously clammy beer-gut and past the nylon waistband of his pants. She let out a small choke of lust as her acrylic nails scraped the bald, encrusted dent of his urethral opening.
With a crunch Clive fell to his knees, ripping aside the gusset in front of him and hungrily burying his tongue in the front-facing forest of secretion-sodden flange flaps. His Adam's apple yo-yo'd up and down as he swallowed gallon upon gallon of her corked jumanji juice, tongue frenetically batting aside the pendulously drooping weight of her clitoral engorgement. With a quavering scream Constance slammed to the end of the Orgasm Highway, wrapping her legs around Clive's face and grinding her meaty menagerie against the rheumy haze of his faintly surprised eyes.
Clive ripped aside his pants to let spring the veined monstrosity that lay within, preliminary flecks of his gentleman juice landing with erotic precision on Constance's shimmering liver spots. Pivoting her over he plunged himself into her puckered gateway, steamrolling past the lust-polyps of her caramel canal. As Constance's hoarse screams grew to a crescendo Clive lost control, his epileptic spaff-wand spasming and violently vomiting runny jets of his pungent fun-juice through the air, covering Constance in a malodorous cocoon of his liquid love.
Spent, the two lovers collapsed, their post-coital halitosis-tainted wheezing fragmenting into the warm night sky.
| The sexual passion between them was as a pressurised as the pressure under the depths of the deep ocean, which was also as deep as their emotions for each other.
They stared into each other's orbs and the normally stiff Stacy (who is normally as dry as the Sahara in the summer during a drought) melted like the north pole.
James's eyes were hot with desire (approximately as hot as sweet chilli, because although James's muscular presence (which was also dripping with beads of sweat and passion) was intimidating, he was adorably cute as well). They launched at each other and mushed their mouths together with the synchronization of Bollywood backup dancers and Stacy came again from James's masculine male presence.
They tore at each other's clothes with the passion of dogs with rabies and then James's made turntables with of Stacy's mound of flesh. Stacy grabbed James's long cue and stuffed it in her aperture... She came again.
Is that cringe worthy enough? | 2015-02-16T10:15:29 | 2015-02-16T10:08:13 | 131 | 16 |
[WP]Killing Hitler has become a sport amongst time travelers. Points are awarded for creativity and difficulty. You are last year's champion, how did you win? | I didn't intend to kill Hitler. I'm not the average time-traveler, you see, I just wanted to have a quiet life in the country side of the Old Europe. I found my lifestyle. I found a beautiful girl named Annabelle and worked my way up in French society at the time. I married Annabelle. I found and bought a quaint little house in a village. The village was built along a road, and at the end of the road lay a villa with pad-locked gates and streaming white walls. I had two children. The first was a boy named Dante, and the second was a girl named after my mother: Beatrice. Unfortunately, I hadn't read my history and forgot about World War II.
Germany invaded France and so came upon my little village which lay in Burgundy. First, came the overwhelming buzzing as the Luftwaffe began to toss their bombs. I didn't understand why they were attacking us at the time; I later found out that the villa was the site of large oil tanks and reserves, and just a few kilometers off was a hidden military base. The bombs swept over the village like a fiery storm, spitting fire, twisting and burning everything and everyone. My Time Machine was destroyed in my house during that first wave. My daughter burned to death; she was in her crib and was crying out as her flesh melted off her bones. I found her later, charred black with a gaping mouth but no tongue. Her teeth were still white as snow. The few bombs had created towering infernos that dashed and killed as an avenging angel of death. The Germans wasted an immense amount of resources on our useless village. When I returned to my time, I learned of their assaults on Paris and London, but I would never hear of their experiments of these techniques on small towns like mine.
My wife was changed after the storm. She would chatter in gibberish for a short while and then scream, pointing towards the darkness as if she saw a devil materialise in front of her. She would rock back and forth on the ground. I had to move her everywhere in a wheelbarrow I found. We met up with the other survivors. Night fell, I fell asleep, I woke up and my wife was gone. Not even a note was left. She had dashed off into the forest like a wild animal.
My son was twelve years old, and was all that remained of my past life. He supported me, his father, and saved me from despair. I cried on him every night, and he would muffle my tears so that the others in our make-shift refugee camp didn't hear me and disapprove of my weakness. Soon, French trucks came and brought us to Paris. My son and I took up residence at my wife's parent's house, they were grieved over their daughter, but gladly brought us into their home and reassured us of victory against Germany.
The next day, all of France bowed to Germany in defeat.
The soldiers marched in with crisp uniforms and rigid steps. They goose-stepped their way to their glory and France's shame. In trucks stood their leaders, and from my weak knowledge of 20th Century History, I recognised Adolf Hitler.
The machinations of my terror and the evils that had befallen in me lay in this man. My doom had been set at the moment I lay my eyes on the man. My blood heated up, and my heart beat twice as fast when I saw him. My brain pounded in my head and I felt sick in my stomach. I looked at him through my in-laws' windows, and only one thought dashed through my mind over and over.
*Revenge.*
My time machine had been destroyed. All I had left were the tools I brought from the future. A knife and an invisibility cloak. But the cloak would break if I attempted any action outside of it; it could only be used for reconnaissance.
So I set out for my revenge. I went to my in-laws and spoke with them for a few minutes, I told them to take care of my son, and that I intended to return, but that I would be gone for a while. They nodded but they seemed afraid. My tone of voice and pale pallor scared them. I left without saying anything to my son, I didn't want him to stop me with his words. I walked off to stalk Hitler.
| The temporal particles faded from sight with a roar of burning spacetime. The silence left behind seeming to sing with a high pure note, tinged with the birdsong of 1940. There in front of me, about 50 yards down the hill was my target. Hitler. The Fuhrer. Head of the nazi party and leader of the German government. He lay in the sunshine, face down on a carved stone bed, modesty only protected by the small white towel wrapped around his hips. The spa was empty, the only way in from below and the guards standing too far away to hear. A soft hum announced the small lift's arrival, the Fuhrer not looking up as the masseuse crossed around behind him started to run his back. The masseuse was a tall Germanic man, his blond hair similar to mine, his features rougher and less attractive though. He finished rubbing the Fuhrer's body and turned to wash the scented oil off of his hands. I hastened my journey down the cliff face, quickly arriving behind the masseuse and plunging the needle into his neck. Quickly stowing his body under the small rock shelf I turned and continued to massage the evil man in front of me, waiting for the right time to strike.
He turned his head, looking me in the eye. I froze, expecting a shout, shots ringing out, pain, but none of this came. The Fuhrer turned face up on the bed, guiding my hand to his erect penis. I was conflicted, I wanted to kill him in the manner that I had set out, but I did not want to draw this out any longer than I had to. I started to reciprocate, watching the pleasure grow on his face. This was not what I wanted at all. I tried to keep the look of disgust off of my face as I brought him off quickly. I plunged the syringe deep into his face, freezing it in place and quickly turning his skin to stone. My plan was to bump into him and turn him into a statue as he turned and tried to shout with his face full of angry fury. This was obviously not what I had achieved. The burning smell of reality particles filled my nasal passages and I was sucked back into my own time. Three years it had taken me to get my name on the list. Three years. I had failed. The prize money would never be mine. The cheer when I got back was deafening. I stood gawping, confused. There was no way for them to have seen what happened no? Only the images of the aftermath.
I looked up at the picture stretched across the wall and immediately new that I had won. I had done it. The year's greatest killing of hitler. The headlines would write themselves: "cum face disgrace at final resting place". | 2016-02-20T08:59:12 | 2016-02-20T08:55:11 | 204 | 49 |
[WP] In a world when anyone blessed with superpowers is expected to join law enforcement and other service occupations you are at a therapy meeting for 'superheroes'. The group is full of teens who are horrified by their powers and refuse to use them. | You need to run. Take the bottom left stairwell, the passcode is five, three, five, seven. I repeat: I've failed to achieve results. You need to run. Take the bottom left stairwell, the passcode is five, three, five, seven.
"Tell me again, Jonas. Why won't you use your powers?" I asked aloud. "The Conclave has requested you do so, several times."
My question settled over the room. Heavy and unwanted, even by me. From across the way, seated on the worn sofa, a young man glanced away. Down and to the side, as he often did.
I received no answer.
"It's alright if you don't want to talk, but if you choose to, I promise it will help." I lied as easily as I drew breath. "Talk to me, Jonas." And I hated it.
He didn't answer, but that was alright. In some sense, I didn't want him to. Turning to the next, a young woman with hair dyed gray, I continued, unperturbed.
"What of you, Grace?" I asked. "What is keeping you from using your abilities?"
"Me? Nothing but my own choice."
As always, her reaction was cold. Sharp and edged, like spring steel. Like a weapon. It sent a chill down my spine. One that stayed, no matter how badly I wished to shake it away.
"Why is that?" I persevered.
"I don't want to become a fucking murderer." She replied.
"I see."
Another dead end. Yet, that wasn't a terrible thing. That wasn't the worst option. Turning to the third and final member of our small group, seated in a cushy purple chair, set deep into the corner of the room: I focused my final efforts for the evening.
"What of you, Mark?" I asked. "What is keeping you from accepting your responsibility?"
"It hurts to use it." The boy answered. Tucked within his hoodie, I could barely see his face, but I could imagine it well enough. Dark, and covered in burns.
Of all three, he was the one I pitied the most.
"Society is built on a foundation of responsibility." I quoted, aloud. "For those with gifts, that responsibility becomes ours."
To this, none of them seemed to respond. Jonas looked further away, inspecting a particularly interesting smudge on the coffee table beside him. Grace gave a sneer, as she looked to the ceiling, and Mark... I couldn't see where he was looking. Perhaps it was right at me.
Another chill down my spine. Another suppressed shiver.
"That's alright, then." I glanced to the clock on the wall, judging the time. "We can all talk again tomorrow, together."
I waited for a moment, but they never met my eyes.
Patiently, I let them leave. Each getting up at their own pace, shuffling out the same office door they had come in. Leaving me alone, once again.
As they did, though, Jonas lingered.
Nervous, skittish even, he paused to let Grace and Mark pass him by, avoiding their odd looks to turn back to me.
"Thank you, sir." He whispered. "Thank you." He said one more time, before turning quickly to follow after the others.
I let him go without a reply, standing to close the door after their absence. Cracking the window, I let the fire rise from my palm as the cigarette began to burn with a silent but crisp sound.
I watched my exhales drifted away out over the city below. Filled with steel and concrete. Where sirens raged, and flames lit signals of rising smoke across the horizon.
"One of these days, they'll stop sending me mind readers." I muttered. "And I don't look forward to it." | The first one the grab the stick is the girl with shimmering skin.
She holds it delicately between her thumb and pointer finger, arm out to keep it away from her body. Her lips are pressed in a thin line, eyebrows furrowed. The therapist gives her an encouraging nod.
“Hello, my name is Deirdre,” she mumbles, eyes flicking around the room; the rest of the group greet her back, “And my skin is acidic.”
There’s murmurs and nods of understanding, their attention on her and that seems to encourage her some. She fiddles with the stick before she sits it gently on her lap, licking her lips.
“They- the military recruited me,” Deirdre says, fingers curling into fists, jaw flexing, “They came to my house, the day after I turned 16. Said they could take care of me and my family, that my parents wouldn’t have to worry about money ever again. If I joined them.”
She laughs but it’s not a happy sound, all jagged and bitter, as wet as the eyes she frantically blinks. Her skin is a little more shiny, almost seems to move.
“I just wanted my parents to be happy, they always tried so hard to take care of me. I-“ Deirdre makes an abrupt motion like she wants to touch the stick again but she stops herself; the way she folds her hands and sits very still seems practiced, “The things that I’ve done, that they want me to do is just-“
She closes her eyes, takes a shuddering breath in. Shivers from head to toe, her skin bubbling and slick.
“I can’t even cook for myself anymore,” she whispers, “Because of the sound that food makes when it sizzles.”
A pause where she sniffles, doesn’t try to wipe the tears that roll down her cheeks. The stick is warped and melting, puddling at her feet.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Deirdre continues, a confession and a secret all at once, bitter on her tongue, “I just can’t.”
And the rest of the superheroes nod, because it is something that they all share. | 2020-03-26T20:46:49 | 2020-03-26T20:39:48 | 26 | 19 |
[WP] The current rulers of the galaxy exert their dominance by showing showing new races a glimpse of their terrifying nature inevitably either driving the unfortunate victims mad or causing them to retreat in fear. It does not work on humans however, they are used to it | "They described our landing as an inconvenience and forgot about us after a few days," Admiral D'jellho reported to the Emperor over the secure hologram transit system.
"Have you sent out the diplomats?" the Emperor asked and Admiral D'jellho shook his head.
"We have determined that the planet has already been claimed by another species that rules over the humans with an iron fist but they have not shown themselves yet," the Admiral explained. Emperor Mav'vallos frowned and stroked his misshapen, alien chin. His species was without a doubt the leading power of the galaxy, with every little whisper from every little planet reaching his ears and any rebellion or warring between his subjects being crushed efficiently and mercilessly. Yet this little planet the humans inhabited had somehow been occupied by a different invasion force that seemed to rule as effectively as he did. "They may have spies among us," Admiral D'jellho continued, displaying a report he had created to show the Emperor.
"What makes you say that?"
"The submission tactics used by the occupying force... They are suspiciously similar to our own."
"The same torture methods as well?"
Admiral D'jellho nodded. "Except they torture their subjects constantly and seem far more effective. The human race seems to have been punished into absolute submission yet their torture continues. We have observed them for weeks and have set our agents to assimilate into their ranks and three times now we have had to extract them and debrief them and offer therapy and counseling. The monotony breaks them in a way we have not been able to accomplish with any other species, even after centuries of torture."
"What have the agents said?" the Emperor asked. He was already drafting a treaty to ensure peace with whatever powerful enemy had subdued the human race.
"Nearly nothing. I ask them how it went and they say 'fine' and nothing more. We offer them food options and they don't care. They wake up each morning in complete apathy and they do as ordered with dead eyes and no emotion and when their tasks are complete, they take no joy in them and instead lay down to await the next day."
"Fuck," Emperor Mav'vallos murmured and Admiral D'jellho nodded. "Retreat right away," he ordered after pondering his options for a moment. "If we upset their masters, we will be the next to be monotonized into submission."
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | I sat watching the news, petting my cat, Harry.
"A civil war has broken out in South Sudan once again, with estimated deaths in the 100 thousands. Around 500,000 child soldiers- Breaking news: a massive object has entered the atmosphere. Scientists cannot recognize any part of it. The government-"
I perked up my head, suddenly interested. It wasn't every day aliens invaded the planet. Harry sprang off me, apparently finding interest in his own hairball I hadn't cleaned up yet.
"Greetings, Earthlings," I turned my head back to the screen. This was definitely aliens. Now the big question was, would they be nice aliens, or mean ones?
"Behold the terrible wrath of the Kathraxi,"
100% mean ones. The screen turned to millions of starving aliens. (I don't really have time to finish. Someone remind me to come back later) | 2019-06-11T06:40:55 | 2019-06-11T05:53:12 | 512 | 99 |
[WP] as the firstborn of the royal family, you’ve inherited the King's power and spoils, while your siblings have been left to fend for themselves. To this day they resent you, no matter what you do to make it up to them. | With the business of the court done for the day, I made my way to the lower parts of the castle. It had been a busy day. But then, most days were busy recently. There seemed to be no end to hungry mouths to feed, foreign diplomats to charm, minutia of trade deals to negotiate with the guilds...
And it was made no easier by my so-called siblings. Our mother, god bless her soul, had seen fit to bless the old king with triplets. I was the firstborn and my two younger brothers had inherited nothing. Left to fend for themselves, they often stirred up trouble in the kingdom by either passing as me, or on the more seditious part of the scale by trying to rally the nobles into rebelltion.
I had done everything to make their life easy but they had never stopped resenting me. They had their own palaces, I had secured good marriages as was my duty as the oldest, I had even brought in special educators from abroad to educate their children. Still, all I got was rough words and harsh treatments in return. They wanted to be kings, and I don't think anything would ever change their minds.
As I reached the lower parts of the castle, I carefully removed my clothing - the king's clothing - and replaced it with that of a servant's. They'd recognize me eventually, of course, but both nobles and guards had a particular talent of ignoring anyone in a servant's uniform. It was better if I was not seen going even lower this day. All the way down, in fact.
To the dungeons. Where my ungrateful younger brothers resided, after having been captured by my men not two nights ago. Their tone had grown increasingly seditious as they travelled the kingdom. I had no choice but to make arrangements. Fortunately for me, it would be some time before they were missed. They were known for their wandering spirits and for hiding from the king's men on occasion.
They truly were a sorry sight. Far from the fine livery I had managed for them, I found them in iron chains hooked to a wall. There was no guard here tonight, just me and them. It was necessary for what was about to happen. I entered the cell, gripping my small dagger tightly. I placed the king's clothes on a stool. A fresh set of clothes would be needed after tonight's messy business.
My brothers recognized me immediately. A good gob and a sneer was all the greeting I would get. "Oh, brothers", I said to them, "what am I going to do with you?" "If I had been born a minute earlier...", said the younger of the two. "Duel me to the death!" exclaimed the older. I simply shook my head.
"I have spent a great deal of time considering the situation, and after these many years I've finally come to a conclusion. A final solution that will solve this problem once and for all." I removed my dagger from its sheath. My brothers recoiled, as much as they could bound in chains. "And brothers... I'm afraid I need your help." Them in chains, me with my dagger, no guard in the dungeons tonight... the stage was set.
"Rock Scissor Paper?" I asked them boldly. They looked at each other with confused looks. I sighed, and placed the dagger on the pile of king's clothing. "Look... this situation is tearing the kingdom apart. I'm not willing to kill you. Nor am I willing to die in some silly duel. So this is how we solve it. We play for the throne. The winner takes all, the others accept it forevermore. Either of you can pass as the king well enough." They considered it.
"What about our children? What about our wives?" they asked one at a time. "Oh please spare me the sentimentality. If all you wanted was to spend time with them, you would have. You're here tonight because more than anything you wanted to be king. Well, here's your bloody chance. Just a chance. A fair chance, that our father owed all of us. Or I could walk out of here and throw away the key - leave you to rot. That's what it has come to, my brothers."
They took the deal as I knew they would. And I believed they would hold to the terms laid out before us. I believed it because they were just like me, triplets in body and mind. In the end I could not shake the feeling that, were it not for the smallest twists of fate, I would be sitting where they were. In iron chains, wanting the throne. That's why I wanted this - because it was fair.
So we played for the throne. We didn't cheat, we didn't argue. There was no audience here tonight. When we were done, I unlocked their chains. For a moment, we stood in unison again, brothers united at last, in the poorly lit dungeon of the castle. I smiled at them, and they smiled at me.
"Long live the king", said my older brother.
"Long live the king", said my younger brother.
"Long live the king", said I. | I called my servant to me and said, "Servant! How are my siblings?"
He looked at his scroll. "Well, sire, where do I begin? Let's see. Your older sister, Alexandria-"
"I don't care about the boring ones" I interrupted. "Just skip to the interesting ones."
"Well, there have been reports that several of your younger brothers are gaining signifcant influence among the raiding parties between the kingdoms."
"Ah, good for them!"
"Yes, well, er, except for the fact that their numbers are growing exponentially and they are very vocal about their agenda which is-"
"To overthrow me, yes, yes." I waved a hand. "Next."
"No, sire. Actually, they've made it very clear that they don't care about claiming the throne for themselves. They just want to personally depose you and, well to summarize, they say that 'death would be better than the torture they have in store for you'."
"That must be Amias." I nodded. "Always the little poet. Okay, what about my sisters."
"Uhm, my lord, this is a serious threat. Don't you think you should do something to quell the inevitable uprising?"
I laughed. "Uprising? There's no uprising! I know my brothers. They're just playing around. They don't really mean those things. How can they? Sure, I'm on the throne, and they're not, but I've been nothing but kind to them. Right? Riiiiight?"
"Well, er..."
"No, go on, speak. Say what is on your mind."
"Well, sire, when you took their throne, you had their mother killed and then you sent her body to them in an opened coffin."
"Of course! I wanted the people to see who it was and pay their respects!"
"Your intentions were certainly good, sire, but perception, as you know..."
"And what was the perception?"
"That you were disrespecting their mother. Added to the fact that you didn't have her buried in the royal cemetary."
"Because I wanted her children to have the honor of being able to bury her where they felt comfortable visiting."
"Understood. But again, perception-wise..."
I sighed. "Yes, yes. I'll think of some way to make it up to them. And my sister?"
"Well, after you had her fiancé killed-"
"He was a traitor!"
"Yes, but you never made your sister aware of the details at the time."
"She's a female. What does she have to do with business between men?"
"As far as she knows, you got the throne, became paranoid or power hungry or both, and killed the man she loved."
I sighed. "And what is she doing?"
"The last reports I recieved said she attached herself to one of the princes of a rival kingdom, whose king is on his deathbed. They say that the prince is under her thumb and that when he succeeds to the throne, she will really be the one running the kingdom."
"Good for her!"
"Except..."
I groaned. "Oh Lord, let me hear it."
"Though she isn't as vocal about it as your brothers have been, several reliable sources have said that once she has become in power, she will wage a war against you. If she joins forces with your brothers, then the odds aren't looking too favorably."
"So I'm doomed." I sunk low into my throne.
"Not necessarily," said my good and faithful servant. "There is a way that just might work." | 2021-06-09T13:06:33 | 2021-06-09T12:41:43 | 26 | 16 |
[WP] An Alien and it’s Human sidekick roam the galaxy, willing to do just about any job to keep the fuel tanks full. The only issue - most clients have never seen a Human and they’re terrified by the sight of one.
Cake Day Post!
EDIT: wanted to say thank you to everyone that responded! I’ve been reading your stories on here for years & couldn’t have asked for a better cake day! | I'm used to it by now. Any human out here gets used to it or they go home. And honestly it's not wrong, not some injustice or bigotry. The suit is a necessity,
The procedure just sucks.
Hoses like everywhere, you feel me? Everywhere. Gasket checks. Pressure checks. Solvents. Primary and secondary pumps. And the adhesives? Well they're worse coming off.
It's kinda amazing what alien technology has fit into this skin-tight abomination.
The airlock cycles me into naked vacuum. "Coming across Scall."
"Come across Buddy." The far door opens.
I jump. Bright lights come on from every direction, sterilizing every surface of my skin suit.
In the far lock I get scanned to within an inch of Scall's life and get the all's clear before the airlock cycles.
The interior is filthy, unlike my own ample quarters.
"Common Scall, you gotta clean this place."
"That's funny, coming from your type, unclean human."
It's banter. But I'm still a little salty from the early wake-up. "What if I cut myself on some of this junk?"
Scall's sensory frills stiffen in excitement and panic.
I run my hand down his usvarse ridge to soothe him. It works a little too well, so before he can get too excited I say "no time for a danger wank. They're here."
I stay out of the negotiation. I'm the trump card.
Scall works the deal. Once the terms are final and both cargoes are verified, I put the crates in the shuttle and head across.
The Lfthiss are notorious. Their cultural bias towards might-makes-right tactics complicate all their agreements. They certainly think we are ready pickings.
I open the cargo doors, point at my chest, and say "scan it bitches" before they can pounce.
Dozens of classification glyphs radiate from the bio-hazard logo on my suit. Colony organism. Aerobic infectious agents. Anarobic infectious agents. Lysing agents. And more, and more, and more.
The Lfthiss don't need to do the scan. Earthlife is infamous. Our peculiar, slow evolution and repeated extinction events complicated our biology beyond mediation.
They sheathe their weapons and transfer the cargo with due diligence. Knowing that I need only crack my seals to doom their ship as a complete loss.
I return to our ship and drop into a navigation station.
Scall leans over me to check a console.
In parting, the Lfthiss salute Scall with a message best translated as "well played"'.
He is flushed, his dorsal spines partially erect. I'm no less aroused, though the suit makes that painfully immaterial.
We're both danger junkies. You have to be in this line of work. But we've gone way past normal here. I let his spines almost snag my fingers as his sharp, venomous jaws knead their their way down my torso.
Nobody understands our partnership, our love. One wrong move and we're both dead.
That's the point.
I trigger the jump.
---
EDITS: all the artifacts and grammar from writing on a phone. | Daily log, 18:54:92 GOODS-North time, Somewhere in the vicinity of Ursa Major
Steve and I stopped at a refuel station on our way to meet our connect. Supposedly, there is good work where we are heading and you know we need it. Problem is the only convincing disguise we had for him got torn up on Lido Persona. I would love to tell you it got destroyed in some heroic rescue of some valuable piece we could sell at this stop but no. The idiot got the power module smashed in at the hotel by a even larger than normal Bracken male when he tried talking up the man's girlfriend. Guess I can't entirely blame Steve. Would've been fine if his auto-translator hadn't mixed up "Mind if I buy you a drink?" with "I actually think the war of Jeretasia Pertenta was totally justified." She being a Bracken from the Pertenta region I don't think I need to explain why she and her boyfriend were both upset.
Once the disguise powered down you can imagine how terrified everyone was seeing a bipedal hairless ape in the bar. Bringing him drunkenly back to the ship he couldn't stop laughing saying "that's like bringing a naked mole rat in a suit to the speak at the United Nations." No idea what he was on about.
He's still passed out in his room. Guess I am going out on my own for now. Need to prioritze getting him another mode of disguise on our way to see Yuondo. I'm sure to get picked out by someone who's not my friend without backup.
Signing off for now. | 2020-03-05T22:25:23 | 2020-03-05T19:06:47 | 139 | 55 |
[WP] in a future universe super powers are available for purchase. However it costs $250,000 and you cannot pick your power, it's decided based on personality and physical attributes. You have finally saved up enough money ... | When you're little the idea of being a "super hero" was something that just made sense. The only part that didn't, was how to be "super". So naturally you spend your childhood trying every which way to somehow become this person that you dream of every night... Only to realize that eating broccoli and saying please and thank you doesn't give you laser vision, or invisibility.
Well it wasn't until right after my freshman year of college that I finally understood...
These superpowers that I fantasized about, were never something you could simply wake up with. They were something you had to work for. Unless you just had $250,000 lying around, that is.
See you need to understand something about the world. Everything has a price. It's not always money though, sometimes things cost more than a few Benjamin's. As for super powers, those cost a whole lot more than $250,000. Yeah sure, maybe if that much money was pocket change for someone it might be a little easier. But for someone like me, someone who grew up without knowing what an Iphone was for the better half of my life, it most certainly cost more than that. I know, I know, some people aren't so fortunate as to even think about, thinking about buying a super power.
I guess that makes me the lucky one then, even though it took this long. Like I said, the cost of getting my powers was a lot more than 250 grand. By the time I got the last $500, I had worked nearly 100 plus jobs, nearly failed all my classes and almost drove away the last good friend I had. All of this time and effort and money just for a shot at becoming that guy that I dreamt about night after night.
Now don't worry, I am getting to the good part, if that's what you care about anyway. I'll try not to ramble, even though my mom says that rambling is a side effect of "That hyperactive, genius brain of yours!" as she tells me pretty much every day. Anyway, the day after I had finally saved up enough, I went to my room, counted every bill about a dozen times just to make sure, and then ran straight to the DSP. I say ran, but it was more like a half jog/half cramp walk. I was never one to get into running, or much of any exercise related activities for that matter. So as I gimped up to where I assumed was the line to "purchase" powers, based on the attire of those in the line (mostly kids my age all wearing S.E.C.T.O.R. uniforms), the thought of which power I was going to pick began running through my mind. I realized I hadn't really thought through this until just now. I was so set on simply getting the money that I forgot that there is more than one super power. Suddenly I felt my stomach drop. "What if I can't decide before I get in the room?" the line continued to move forward, seemingly faster than before. "Will they still take my money?", "Or would they give some horrible useless power?". My mind was racing with all sorts of questions, that I hadn't realized that I started rambling out loud. The kid in front of me spun around and when he saw what I looked like he apparently couldn't help but to starting laughing.
"Hey buddy, you sure you're in the right place?" he said while laughing. "I thought the trash was around ba-"
He was cut off by attendant at the desk shouting
"NEXT!"
As he was walking in the room he looked back and mouthed something I could only assume was some sort of crude name for my kind of people. By that I mean people who actually had to work to be in this line.
The thoughts were still eating away at me when I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Oh great I have to deal with another one of these guys" I thought to myself as I rolled my eyes and turned around.
"Look I don't want any trou-."
This time I was cut off, not by the attendant thankfully. But rather by the mere surprise of seeing a beautiful girl. I stood there just making an "uhhh" sound until she said,
"I'm sorry I couldn't help but overhear you talking to yourself earlier".
"Great" I thought "I already ruined my chance without even knowing". She smiled and continued,
"I just thought you'd like to know that you don't have to pick one".
What was she talking about? Of course you do. That's how purchases work.
"What do you mean?" I said after mustering the courage.
"I mean, it chooses for you."
I wanted to ask what "it" was but I got distracted by the sound of someone shouting. It was the guy that was in front of me. I can only assume that he was pleased with the power he got as he greeted his friends with cheers and laughter.
I was next.
The only other time I felt this nervous and excited all at once was when my dad taught me how to shoot a gun for the first time. But I wasn't thinking about that. I was thinking about what that girl said. How I don't get to choose and how "it" chooses for me. I started to shake as I walked up to the desk. "What will 'it' pick for me?"
"Hello, name and date of birth please", the attendant asked.
"Oh uh, Callan. Callan Kade. And July 40th, 2979."
She looked at a computer screen and typed in my information then looked at me and said,
"And how will you be paying today, Mr. Kade?"
I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the folder, "Um, cash if that's alright."
She shook her head and I handed her my stack of bills, and waited patently as she put it in a machine to be counted. As I stood there watching the number slowly grow larger, my breathing started to return to normal. When the screen said $250,000, she turned to the computer, clicked the mouse a couple times and looked at me again.
"It seems everything is in order. Thank you for your purchase. You may step into the room now", she said without breaking eye contact or her smile.
The room was surprisingly warm, but still somehow the hairs on my neck stood up and my body shivered. There was one pillar in the middle of the room with a hole cut through it. I took my time walking up to it, somewhat expecting something to pop out of it. But nothing did. I was starting to doubt anything would happen, when suddenly, a small ring rose from the bottom side of the hole. As it came to a stop in the middle a blue light flickered on the inside of the ring. At this point I was standing right next to the pillar. I looked around as if some instructions might appear, but of course, none did. So naturally I began to examine the ring and as my fingers touched the metal a sharp tingling pulsed through my whole body. Before I could pull my hand away, my arm began to move through the ring on its own. Then as my forearm came to a stop directly under the blue light, the ring closed down on my arm and everything went white.
"I knew this would happen, but to someone from the outlands?"
There was an indistinct voice coming from all around me.
"What do we do?"
There was another voice. A womans. I still couldn't see but I could start to feel my arms and legs again. As I opened my eyes I saw something that I could only describe as, stary? Like space. But when I blinked it was gone. When my vision actually came to, I was in the room again. However this time there was no pillar, no ring. Just me and one other person. The girl that was behind me.
I wasn't sure what was going on at this point but as I stood up she came up to me.
"Are you okay? What happened? What did you see?"
I wasn't okay, my head felt like it exploded, I had no idea what happened, and the only thing I remember seeing is stars. All I could say was,
"What did I get?"
"You mean what power?" , she looked at me as if I killed someone.
"Yeah, what power? Something good?", I was starting to get annoyed with this whole situation.
"Well, Callan, you didn't exactly get a power."
"What?!", I took a step back "No power? I paid all that money for nothing? How is that possible? What is going on? I paid for a super power!", I would have kept going but the look on her faced concerned me.
"I am not sure what is going on. All I know is that this wasn't supposed to happen at least not to you." she looked to be on brink of tears.
"What wasn't supposed to happen? Me not getting a power?"
"No." , her head dropped.
"Then what?!"
"... You getting all of them."
__________________
Wow guys!! Thank you so much for all the feedback! Part II is on the way!!! (And maybe more...)
P.S. Thank you to whoever gave me Gold, totally was not expecting that!!!!
| The second I stepped out of the limo, an explosion of cheers and applause assailed me. I brushed my golden cape back and struck a pose, chest thrust out so that the silver star upon it caught the light of the sun. The photographers went berserk, and journalists began blabbering furiously into hovering camera-drones.
A red carpet had been rolled out on the sidewalk, all the way into the New Ascendance Center. Fans lined both sides of it, clutching posters of me and my pearly teeth, or squeaky figurines of my Herculean frame.
"What's my name?" I called.
"The Omega!" came the reply.
Flashing them a gigawatt smile, I began walking up the carpet. This was a momentous day for all of us. After spending years and millions of dollars cultivating my public persona, I would finally be able to give these people the hero they had always wanted.
"Mr. Omega, a word please?" one of the journalists said, hurrying alongside me. "Tell us how you feel."
I stopped to sign some autographs. "Amazing. I couldn't sleep last night. I'm not doing this for myself, you know. Look at our world today. Crime. Terrorism. These things are happening—hey, you're great too, keep it up, champ."
After posing for a photo with some teenage girls, I said, "I mean, are we any better off ever since humanity evolved? Now we have super people doing bad things. Hey, love you too. You want a kiss? Come here."
The taste of the woman's lipstick lingered on my mouth as I continued walking. "I believe it's my duty to look out for these people. You people," I said, turning to face the camera. Raising my voice, I said, "The world already has enough supers. What it needs is a hero. And that's why I'm here today!"
The response from the crowd was deafening; an old couple nearby actually broke down crying. I gave them all a final wave before entering the Center.
I felt like I'd entered another world; so silent it was indoors. Every surface was polished to shine, mostly in colors of gold and silver. A long counter ran across the hall, manned by workers dressed in navy blue uniforms. Behind them stood a massive statue of a man and woman with one arm interlinked, while the other hand was outstretched and clutching thunderbolts.
The sight of it made me frown. Not many people manifested powers of electricity, and the few who did invariably went bad. A little flutter of nervousness awoke in my belly. What if I gained lightning powers? Would it hurt my image? My PR team had a contingency prepared, but who knew how people would react?
Some of the journalists and my assistants had entered the building with me, but they stayed behind while I approached the counter.
"Good morning," said the chipper-looking man, whose name tag read "Jordan". "We've been expecting you, Mr. Omega."
I nodded and slid a card over the table to him. "Two-hundred and fifty grand. A fair price for greatness."
He gave me a polite nod, but said nothing otherwise as he tapped away on a holographic keyboard. While waiting, I flashed my team a smile and checked my reflection on the counter's surface.
After a minute, he drew a vial of yellow liquid from a dispenser and handed it to me. "Drink that in one go, and stand in front of this sensor, please."
My anticipation turned into joy, as though I'd ingested liquid sunshine. Unscrewing the cap, I poured the contents down and my throat and waited.
My heartbeat thumped the seconds away, but after two minutes, I opened my eyes and frowned at Jordan. "Hey, is it supposed to take this long?"
He jerked his thumb at the sensor. "Don't know. Try standing over there. Sometimes, we get duds."
"I paid a lot of money for this, you know," I said. "Better not screw it up."
"The sensor, please."
I rolled my eyes and did as he asked. The quicker we could get this over with, the better. My belly was starting to ache with hunger.
Jordan stared at the screen with a bored expression, while my entourage began muttering to each other. It hadn't been easy to get the journalists to come; the Omega wasn't a household name yet, and crime stories sold better. I needed this to work, to make this worth their time.
"Hurry up, man," I said. Maybe I should've had a burger before coming. Damn this stomach of mine.
Suddenly, Jordan gasped, and began typing furiously. At once, a group of men in black uniforms and armor charged out from a side room, guns aimed at me.
"What's the meaning of this?" I said.
"Don't move, sir," Jordan said. "We need you to remain calm."
"Remain calm?" I said. "Oh crap, am I about to turn into a pig? Is that why I'm so hungry?"
He mouthed the word "hungry", and held up a hand. "This is just a safety precaution, Mr. Omega. Ever since some people gained dangerous powers, we've had to—"
"Dangerous? What did you give me? Oh shit," I said, bending over. It felt like something had emptied my stomach completely. "Shit, it hurts."
"Take him down," Jordan said.
I threw my head back and screamed, and the void within me awakened. Immediately, the Center's employees began howling as their flesh was stripped away from their bodies, becoming dust-like and melting into my skin as though carried by miniature cyclones.
Within seconds, it was over. Nothing remained of them but their tattered clothing. Gulping air, I turned to look at my entourage, fearing the worst. Only a pile of cloth and bits of drone machinery remained. Even the furniture in the room had chunks missing, as though gouged out.
"What've I done? What the hell have I done?" I repeated as I stumbled out the entrance.
It was chaos outside; people running for their lives. The gnawing in my belly had been lessened, but it was far from sated. Before I realized what I was doing, I held up a hand and began draining the stragglers. Their bodies were ripped apart and absorbed into me, along with flecks of paint and cement.
My horror grew even as I fed, until at long last, contentment gushed through me. Somehow, I felt stronger, lighter; my forty years of age seemed to have halved. Power flickered at my fingertips, and when I pointed my hand at a nearby car, a jet of golden energy shot out and blew it to scraps.
"What have I become?" I whispered.
***
"You should've stayed home, Mr. Omega!" Clayton Danvers shouted, his body glowing with energy. "This is beyond you now! Not even your sick powers can stop me when I'm auuuuugh—"
I breathed deep as his life force seeped into me. In the three years since I'd first gained my ability, this feeling had become one of familiarity.
And as the terrorist died, the cheers around Times Square became louder. "Mr. Omega! Mr. Omega! It's the Omega!"
I smiled and waved. Yes, I'd grown quite comfortable with my place in the world.
***
*If you enjoyed this, do come to [The Nonsense Locker](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker) for more stories.*
| 2016-06-16T01:39:05 | 2016-06-16T00:47:44 | 63 | 45 |
[WP] You lost your sight - along with everyone else on Earth - in The Great Blinding. Two years later, without warning, your sight returns. As you look around, you realize that every available wall, floor and surface has been painted with the same message - Don't Tell Them You Can See. | I stilled dreamed of seeing.
I think that's why I initially snoozed my alarm clock instead of gasping for joy. But as I rolled back over to look at my wife lying next to me, I did gasp. Not for joy, but out of shock. On the wall behind Kathrine a message had been hastily painted on the wall.
\-DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE-
"What's wrong?" Katherine said groggily but alarmed. Her vacant stare reminding me that for the last 2 years I have been blind.
I am unable to respond as the realization of what is happening has not fully dawned on me.
"Jim?!" she now sounds more awake and even more concerned. She flails out her arms searching for me and when her hand rest on my shoulder I have regained enough composure to speak.
"N-nothing." I stammer. "Just had a nightmare."
The tension in her face eases as her hand glides up to my face and leans in for a kiss.
"you had me worried." She sighs. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No." I respond quietly, still trying to get my bearings.
I sit up and look around the room growing more confused and horrified as I do. On every available surface I can see the same message has been painted.
\-DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE-
The paint is obviously not new, as it has slightly faded from a bright red, to a more rusted maroon. I also see the guide rod we have been using to navigate the new home we were given a year after the great blinding took place. The room looked very different from how I dreamed of it. It seemed smaller and dust has settled on all the surfaces that were not regularly used. As I took in the first glimpses of the room I have spent the last year in, growing more uneasy as I read the same message over and over, I felt a hand on the small of my back. I gave a startled yelp and nearly jumped out of bed.
"Must have been a bad one." Kathrine giggled from behind me. "Sure you don't want to talk about it?"
"Maybe later." I mumbled.
I turned to face her and was overcome with emotion. In 2 years she hasn't changed much. Her chestnut hair was longer than I remembered it and was haphazardly strewn around her. Her soft smile showed a few more smiles lines around the corners of her mouth. The eyes were the biggest difference. They looked glossed over and unfocused, the rich brown covered with a grayish haze. I felt a pang of sadness and guilt wash over me as I stared at those eyes. The mixture of joy and grief became too much and I excused myself to go to the bathroom.
As I stood up to leave, I finally noticed the dark amorphous shape in the corner and stopped with my breath caught in my throat. It wavered on the edges as if it were pulsing or breathing. It seemed to be pulling in the light around it further obscuring it from my sight. I reached out to steady myself on the guide rod and as I did, the shaped slithered into the bathroom.
"Hurry up," Kathrine complained, "I need to go too." | I see walls covered with writings.
I see floors painted with blood.
I see surfaces, chairs, refrigerators and any available surface to draw on plastered with the same damn message.
*"Whatever you do, Don't tell them you can see."*
Whispers of instruction fill my head.
"Hush. Do not speak of your sight."
I follow blindly, just as I was blind before.
Color, restored. But fear, still dwelling.
I thought a life with color was worth living.
Everyday, I crept onto the scene, acting blindly like I was.
It was no difference to having sight, than losing it.
Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months.
Somehow, it has become a chore to maintain such a gift.
To have sight, but not be able to share it. To gain vision, but not be able to show it.
Months turn into years. And the day goes on.
Blindness has kept my sanity.
Yet, vision has driven me mad.
I look at the table. A pencil on the drawer.
"It's enough," I say. "This will do."
With force, I stab my left eye, blood gushing onto the scene!
I cry, yet I remain silent.
I see now what the warnings have been. I see now who has written them.
With my blood, I draw at the table in front of me. A surface large enough for my message.
I need to warn them. I need to tell them what will happen to them.
Before I lose my sight, I write my one, last message I will witness.
***"Whatever you do, Don't tell them you can see."*** | 2022-10-15T03:24:04 | 2019-08-26T09:05:53 | 52 | 39 |
[WP] The DM hands you the paper. You're just dropping in for the one session, but you know your role. The sheet says you're level 6, but you've got surprises. You have a mission: take out the DM's most-hated player. Well, their fun-killing Paladin, anyway. You're a hired gun. A Character Assassin. | I'm not a hero, I'm a man with a job. have a specific set of skills. When a DM wants to get rid of a character but declines to use the plethora of tools at their disposal, they message me. Generally, I like more than one session to handle these kinds of issues, but I took this job as a personal favor.
The party of four that I joined was several levels into the 3.5 adventure module, "Red Hand of Doom", and after a few minutes of playing, I immediately saw the problem.
"I would like to seduce Trellara Nightshadow." Primus, the paladin, announced to the party.
This was met with a plethora of groans from the other party members on the Discord server.
"Make the roll I guess." Trevor, the DM, said in a resigned voice.
A few clicks of a keyboard and a triumph exclamation from Primus' player, Scott, later began the most uncomfortable roleplaying session I've ever had the pleasure to sit in on.
Now, before most DMs bring me on I ask them if they've done the adult thing and spoken with the problem player first. Most of the time this solves the problem, but in this case, Scott was the worst kind of D&D player, he was *That Guy*. While *That Guy* can come in many shapes and forms, they can be highlighted by their complete disregard for the fun and enjoyment of everyone else. And Scott, well he was the worst I had ever seen. I won't insult you by describing what followed his successful Diplomacy check against the innocent elf NPC, Trellara Nightshadow, but suffice it to say that it would make the average person either blush or cringe in physical pain.
It was at this point that I knew that Primus had to go. While my character was only about level 6, Gorbash Ironhorn was built specifically to take down characters like this. I know enough about 3.5 to sculpt a character for just such an occasion. The first thing you need to know about my good friend Gorbash is that his base class is Monk. At level 6, Monks have the ability to make a "flurry of blows" which allows them one more attack each round than what they would normally get, but with less accuracy. But Gorbash wasn't your usual human or elf Monk, he was a minotaur, and this gave him a nice +8 bonus to strength. The cherry on top of it all was the template that the DM allowed me. Gorbash, you see, was a vampire, something that the paladin should have known if he wasn't so busy trying to fuck every female NPC from Drellyin's Ferry to Brindol. Having the vampire template gave Gorbash's unarmed strikes the ability to bestow 2 negative levels per hit, and with the Monk's 'FLurry of Blows" ability Gorbash could take away 4 levels from a target per round.
So I bided my time, as the DM had informed me that they would be facing off against the Ghostlord, a druid turned lich, who had sworn allegiance to the main villain. I won't bore you with details of the fight, but I will let you know that we won by the slightest of margins. Primus took his place about the Ghostlord's corpse and began to speak about not only his own glories but about how many fair maidens he would need to satiate his lust after defeating such a fierce enemy.
He never saw my vampire minotaur Monk coming.
There is nothing like the strangled cries of a player when you announce:
"I would like to walk up behind Primus and attack him with 'Flurry of Blows.'"
"Roll to hit," Trevor said I could feel the smile in his voice.
"23 and 25"
"And damage?"
I rattled off the total and reminded Trevor that negative levels reduce the maximum HP of a creature by a hit die per level. I logged off before I could hear Scott react to the death of his paladin, but my job was done. I'm not a hero, you see, I am a Character Assassin.
| "I'm afraid I must object," said Timonus the Upright.
Everyone at the table reacted, some throwing up their hands and some muttering unpleasantries under their breath. The five gamers sat around a map of terrain speckled with gaming pieces. At the head of the table a thin, tired looking young man sat behind a large, upstanding book. He let out a long exhale.
"What is it now, Todd?" he asked, the words seeming to sting his throat.
"I should think it obvious, Brenden. We don't know why these soldiers deserted the Farwinian army. Perhaps they are conscientious objectors protesting the unjustness of the war? I simply cannot condone attacking this band as a paladin of-"
"Lawful good alignment," finished two of the other players in unison. Jake and Marcus had heard this more times than they could count.
"I have a question," said a third player. He was new to this campaign, and strangely would only play for this session. He hadn't actually given his name.
"Which is?" asked Brendon.
"Can I activate my..."
He read from the page in front of him.
"...mega fire grenade?"
"A character of his low level should not have been given such a powerful weapon," said Todd. "It's highly unlikely a character of his background and experience could have procured the resources to acquire an item of that quality."
"I just want to know if can," said the new player, raising a placating hand to the obese paladin.
The ghost of a smile crept onto Brenden's lips. "You can activate it whenever you like, though your fellow campaigners may not like it very much."
"I want to do it," the new guy said.
"What!"
Timonus the Upright stood upright, crumbs falling from his tshirt to the floor.
"I run," Jake said.
"I run too," said Marcus.
"I find this all very objectionable," Todd said. "This person here isn't even a real member of this-"
"Mega fire grenade explodes," Brenden said, grinning. "You should have run, Todd. Your dead."
"I... but... you didn't even give me a chance to respond. As a character of lawful good alignment I would never adventure with a rogue like that. I find this all very objectionable."
He looked over to confront the new player, but he was gone. In his chair only a puff of rising smoke remained. | 2019-01-21T19:02:54 | 2019-01-21T18:32:36 | 3,332 | 500 |
[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 wake to my phone buzzing on the night stand. I look at the clock next to it. The green numbers shine brightly: 3:14 AM.
'What the hell?' I think to myself. 'Why is anyone texting me at 3 in the morning?'
Before I can take a look, it starts buzzing again. And again. It won't stop. I grab the phone and mute it quickly but the notifications continue to pop up silently. "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." They're texts coming from my mother, my friends, my siblings, even some numbers I don't recognize.
An unfamiliar alarm blares on my phone. A new notification pops up on my phone, titled US Government Emergency Alert. It reads "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON."
'This is weird,' I think to myself, 'What the hell could be wrong with the moon?'
I walk to my window. I carefully open the curtains halfway so the moon is still covered. The sight is incredible.
Almost all of my neighbors are standing outside, phone in hand. They're staring upward in the direction of the moon. They're walking around talking to each other, pointing to the sky.
'I gotta see what the hell is going on.'
I walk outside and jog over next door, carefully keeping my eyes lowered. My neighbour is standing by his door. I'm about to call out to him when he interrupts me.
"Hey! Have you seen the moon tonight?" he asks.
"Listen man, something weird is going on. It's 3 in the morning, why are you outside right now? Why is half the neighbourhood outside?" I reply.
"You haven't looked yet, have you?" he laughs.
"Did you just ignore everything I said? Why are you outside? What's wrong with the moon?"
Without warning, my neighbor rushes up to me and places a hand on each side of my head. He violently turns my head toward the sky. "Just look!"
Oh. OH. I get it now. This is... incredible. It's impossible. There's no way this can be happening. It's... I don't even know. I have to tell someone about this.
I take out my phone and draft a message, addressed to everyone on my contact list. I slowly tap in the words "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside."
| I wake up to the sound of a familiar jingle coming from my phone. Groaning I turn over and turn it on. But then something grabs my interest, an official text, like the amber alerts you get sometimes, saying DO. NOT. LOOK.AT. THE. MOON. My screen then suddenly bursts up with hundreds of text messages saying the same thing, it’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.
I then see the time, 3:00 am. “Shit” I say, still half asleep, “ I have class at 7:30, ain’t nobody got time for trolls.” I then turn back over and have a wonderful nights rest and get to class just on time.
But no one is there. | 2022-08-07T14:17:42 | 2022-06-27T10:58:59 | 712 | 103 |
[WP] Your superpower: The ability to successfully do the job...with the wrong tool. (Optional - Your weakness: The inability to do so with the right tool for the job.) | “Excuse me, sir? We appreciate you pulling over to help us, so I really don't mean to be rude, but are you *sure* you know what you’re doing?” the young woman who had been driving asked me.
“Oh yeah, dont you worry, I’ll have your engine back in working order in no time,” I replied
In fairness, her concern was completely and totally justified. I was currently rubbing a croissant on her engine block like a madman, while bizarrely claiming it would somehow restore it to full working order.
The male passenger in the car finally chimed in, “Dude, I know they sound alike, but isn't it like… a crescent wrench you need? Not a *croissant*?”
“Shut it David! Do you or I know how to fix this? We’ve been sitting here for an hour hoping someone came by,” the woman scolded him.
I put my head down self consciously and set back to ‘work’. Look, I have no goddamn clue how it started, but at some point I found I had the ability to solve any problem, so long as I did the exact opposite of my father's lifetime of advice and did not use ‘the proper tool for the proper job’.
If it was a superpower then without a doubt embarrassment was my kryptonite. I had to balance my strong and genuine desire to help people with my willingness to look like a fool as I used a flamethrower to fix a wooden fence, a lava lamp to stop a guy mugging someone on the subway, or a hammer to mend a person’s broken heart. I’m not gonna lie, occasionally I just cant take the cringe factor and have to leave someone to fend for themselves.
“Sir? Can you at least TRY this wrench set I found in the trunk?” the young man asked reasonably.
I sighed, “Fine. Sure, but please… both of you stand back.” I touched the wrench to a random part of the engine and a massive bolt of electricity arced dramatically into the sky. Everyone's hair stood on end as we all jumped back in unison.
“Jesus, careful man, you must have touched the battery somehow?”
I’d been nowhere near the battery, but this kid didn’t know enough to be afraid of this tool in my particular hands. For as much as I could solve any problem with the worst possible tool, using the correct one for any given job could have disastrous consequences. I’d hoped that the little electrical light show my wrench had just put on would convince them to let me go back to doing things my way, but no such luck. They required more convincing, which was-- very unfortunate for all involved, but I didn’t see another way.
I slowly moved the wrench toward the vehicle again, this time barely making contact with the outer surface of the car, at which point the entire front panel burst into flames.
“Holy shit! Fire! Fire! Can car paint catch on fire? Err-- whatever! Fire! Anyone got a fire extinguisher? Anyone?!” the young lady shouted.
I grabbed an extinguisher out of my truck but sheepishly handed it to her, “You’d uh… you’d better do this rather than me.”
She actually seemed to grasp why my using a *fire extinguisher* to *extinguish a fire* would somehow be a terrible idea and she set to work. She put it right on target but the flames simply would not be fully beaten down. I ran to my truck and grabbed my child’s teddy bear out of the back seat. I rubbed it along the length of the flames and they immediately went out.
Both of them now stared at me with jaws agape, a strange mixture of gratitude and utter confusion I’d seen hundreds of times before plastered on their faces. Finally, the young man spoke, “Uh sir? Here’s... here’s your croissant back… if you’re still willing to help us.”
I nodded sheepishly and got back to work. Within 10 minutes I’d fixed whatever damage had originally caused their car to conk out and as well as mending any damage done by the fire.
As I was chatting with the now happy couple I heard the police scanner in my truck chirp to life, “We’ve got a bank robbery in progress. Multiple suspects are armed and dangerous. Repeat, armed and considered very dangerous. All officers proceed with caution and wait for backup.”
“I’m sorry kids, I’d love to stay and chat longer, but as you can hear, my assistance is needed elsewhere,” I told them as I walked back toward my truck, pulled a spatula from my belt and prepared for a fight.
___
r/Ryter
&#x200B;
Edit: Holy cow this totally blew up over night! All your positive reactions are quite overwhelming. Thank you very much for the gold but thanks just as much to everyone who left really nice feedback or comments. I only started writing any kind of fiction a few months ago so this is quite a morale boost to keep working at it!
Edit 2: As requested I did try to continue this story below, I'm a bit wary of this premise becoming worn out quickly, but even if Part 2 and 3 suck, the original still exists to enjoy on its own : ) | “It’s not about the results, son,” my father said. “It’s about doing things the right way.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s hard to explain…but even if you get the result you want sometimes, that might not happen again the next time. You might not get as lucky. If you do it the right way every time, you’ll be rewarded the same way, hopefully.”
“I thought it’s about trying your best?”
He shook his head, the first of many times he would repeat that gesture throughout my life.
“You’ll see.”
\-
The referee could blow his whistle at any second. Coach called me over.
“Get us a goal, kid.”
“How?”
He smiled. “You always seem to find a way.”
His words don’t quite give me hope, or belief, but they make me realize I have to try. That’s how it always is for me in life. Don’t worry about how things will work out. Just do something. Anything more than nothing.
I get the ball on the right, just past midfield. There is a bit of space, so I run with the ball. I’m not the fastest or best dribbler, but I do my best.
I’m in the box now. Everyone is screaming. I look around. No teammates. Defenders closing in. I close my eyes, and kick as hard as I can…
The ball goes horribly awry. It’s not even on target. But then it happens. A defender can’t quite slide out of the way in time, and it ricochets off him and into the goal!
My teammates mob me. I take a second, and look up in the stands. My mom is jumping for joy along with everyone else, but all I can see is my dad, shaking his head…
\-
I think about that a lot. How they would all shake their head if they were to see how I operate. If the city could see how their hero stopped robberies by accidentally headbutting the lead robber and knocking both of us out, or prevented a suicide by falling off the building first and scaring the jumper off doing it, or any of the other mishaps-turned-miracles, would they still call me a hero?
In the end, that doesn’t matter. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. With me there, doing something, I like to think things are better off.
The kids are strong, just realizing how much they can bully and boss people around with their growing frames.
“Hey,” I say. “He’s got nothing. Why rob a hobo?”
They turn around, and smile when they see me. “Good point. We’ll do you instead.”
I walk towards them, and then start to run at them when they do. I close my eyes, and I slip on the ice-
And slide right into one of the goons. I hear a horrible crack, and when I look, his friends are trying to quiet his screaming, loading him up into a car, going away.
I stand up, and walk towards the hobo.
“Are you okay, sir?”
“That was something,” he said.
“Yeah. I’m sorry. I was trying to-“
“What are you apologizing for? Without you, I’d have nothing to eat tonight.”
“I wish it didn’t have to happen that way.”
He shrugs, and smiles. “But it did, didn’t it? And look at what happened. You scared those punks off. That’s all that matters, in my book.”
I look at my jeans, wet and stained with the dirty ice. “Thanks,” I say. “That means a lot.”
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | 2019-05-27T23:13:51 | 2019-05-27T22:44:20 | 2,129 | 379 |
[WP] “You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” This quote has been worrying you a lot recently, because you're beginning to suspect you might be immortal. | "One mustard sandwich please."
The girl behind the register nodded at me with a smile and went to pick out the freshly made ham, cheese and mustard sandwich from the tray. It was my favourite.
"That will be three pounds fifty."
"Here's a fiver, and you can keep the change."
She looked at me with surprise, gave a wider grin and nodded at me again.
I walked out. I ate the sandwich. I licked my lips. I sighed. Then I stepped out onto the street and twisted my body so that my torso would be right where the car's bumper would hit.
Later, I decided that I'd probably been a bit unfair.
The poor man in the car looked liked he'd pass out. He'd jumped out of his car and had looked so so horrified by the idea that he had in any way come close to killing another human being. Even if that human had jumped out from behind a parked lorry so suddenly, and looked almost liked she'd been trying to get herself pasted across the asphalt in a red smear.
"Ok I want you to look at the light, yeah? I'm just checking for a concussion now." The paramedic was cute, early thirties maybe, light brown hair. Big eyes and soft hands that had tilted my head earlier to look at the wounds that were supposed to be there under the caked blood.
"Ok..." He put away the light. He didn't sound worried or confused. He was just doing his job - going through all the checks before the final verdict was said.
I was there for another thirty minutes before he proclaimed me - wait for it - lucky to be alive. I got another grin. All teeth and relief.
"Looks like you survived with barely a scratch. The blood on that cut seems to have stopped now, head wounds always bleed quite a lot, but you won't have a scar, and I'll disinfect it for you now. I do think you need to go to A&E however-"
"I don't need to." I looked off to the side. The man from the car was giving his statement to the policeman. I did feel bad about that. Somewhere deep down I felt a little bit bad.
"You may have trauma that isn't obvious now and can-"
"Can lead to complications later, yeah I know. But I am fine." I turned back to look at him and gave him a smile of my own. "Not the first time this kind of shit has happened to me."
He raised an eyebrow "Get hit by cars often do you?".
"No but I did try jumping off a cliff once." I said as I was clambering out of the ambulance. "Not even a concussion."
I didn't bother looking back, knowing he'd probably be wearing the age old expression of a person trying to decide whether the person near him is crazy or not. In his case, he might consider actually calling someone regarding that.
"Are you sure you're feeling ok?" There it was.
I turned around, smiling again, hands in pockets, shoulders slightly hunched, and leaned forward, like I was ready to tell the nice man decked out in neon yellow all my secrets.
"Can I ask you a question?" I asked instead.
Another eyebrow was raised. This time it was the left one. "Sure."
"If you were immortal, would you try to be a superhero or a super villain?"
He stared at me.
"No, seriously. Which one would you try to be?"
He frowned. "I don't think I'd want to be immortal in the first place."
I blinked. Ok, not a traditional answer. He actually sounded like he was going for a serious answer.
"Sounds shitty to me - unless you could make other people, people you care about, immortal as well, like a vampire maybe, - you'd be all alone." He frowned harder, looking deep in thoght and also shoved his hands in his pockets. We were quite a pair now, hands in pockets, discussig deep questions about human nature. "Or you'd be part of a group of immortals, but then that would also be shitty, because nothing worse than being part of some weird club that you can't opt out off, and you're stuck with the same group of people for eternity."
I looked at him. "If you were alone then, the option where you're the only one immortal, it'd just be sad because you're lonely?"
"Well...." He paused, looked to the side; at the damaged car, pedestrians trying, or in some cases not even trying, to be discrete with their phone cameras, the poor car owner and the policeman. The tarmac and the sky were both grey. It was a pretty average looking Wednesday I'd say. "Well," he murmured again, this time grimacing a bit as he looked back at me, "I don't think you could put up watching non-immortal, normal human beings for very long either. I mean, we're not a particularly nice bunch, are we?" He looked almost guilty now, and just a little bit sad.
Maybe I was getting a bit of a biased view - considering I'd asked a paramedic of all people - but I'd take it nonetheless.
I nodded and grinned, one last time.
"Correct answer." | As the silt settled around my calves, the last rays of the August sunshine dimly filtered though the water around me. I sat there on the lake bottom for a few moments, contemplating. I took a deep breath and… nothing. No rush of pain, no suffocating pressure, no drowning. This was life changing, world shattering. I should have laughed, screamed, cried, done anything; but instead I just felt a cold numbness spread through me. I looked up at the waters surface, the shimmering pink and gold a portal to the world I had just entirely left behind.
I looked down once more, inspecting my body; one that should have been mangled and useless, and yet… wasn’t. A few weeks ago, I was riding my bike home from work late at night, and I decided to cross Beggars Lot, over Main Street to get home quicker. I darted out into the road, and the last thing I remember was a flash of light and the blaring of a trucks horn. The next thing I knew I was laying in a hospital bed, a temporary splint on my arm and bandages wrapped around my head. The next few hours were a blur of exams and treatments, questions, and paperwork. The doc said I was lucky to be alive, but I knew it was more than just luck. I should have been red paste on the front bumper of a semi. And yet, here I was with nothing more than a sprained wrist.
Over the next few weeks, a worm of panic began to eat away at me, thoughts that would ooze their way into my mind when I tried to sleep, questions I needed to ask myself but was too terrified to answer. I noticed paper-cuts seemed to heal in seconds, and my body, which should have been in a full cast, was suddenly in the best shape of my life. Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore. I hiked across town, the panic, excitement, and morbid curiosity building inside me. Eventually, I reached the dock at Roger’s lake, where my dad and I would fish as a kid. It was one of my favorite spots to come and think.
My whole life, my Dad would parrot this quote to me, “To live, to TRULY live, we must be willing to RISK. To be nothing in order to find everything. To leap before we look.” Some people thought he was profound, and maybe he was, but those people didn’t realize that he got that from a fortune cookie as a kid. He had that little scrap of paper in his pocket when he asked out my mom, and it was in his wallet until the day he died a few years back. “A leap of faith huh Dad?” I muttered forlornly to myself, my hands shaking. I took a deep breath and plunged under the water.
As I realized the magnitude of what I had just discovered, it felt like my whole world was made of papier-mâché, and I had just dunked it into the water with me. I was immortal. Who I was, what I could do, even what was right and wrong, were all suddenly called into question. I could rob a bank and what could they do to me? Throw me in jail? I could wait until the building rotted around me. I could accrue massive amounts of wealth over hundreds of lifetimes, master every skill, become a god among men. I realized that there was nothing that could stop me, no person or power that could limit what I could become. The the only thing keeping me from achieving that, was me; and that scared the shit out of me. | 2020-07-16T13:03:53 | 2020-07-16T12:03:53 | 61 | 29 |
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