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[WP] Everyone gets a patron god when growing up. If you are really lucky you get a pretty cool one, such as Zeus or Odin. You meanwhile got an obscure god, lost by history and forgotten by everyone. As you're trying to make him popular again they show gratitude in weird ways. | The patronage of gods is all about glorifying them. The more you do for them, the more they do for you. It’s a barter. And between students in high school, it’s a popularity contest.
The others in my class were stonewalling me but I wasn’t about to let that slow me down. I caught up to them in the cafeteria. Said hi, smiled, did all the positive shit. Before they could say *this seat’s taken* or whatever I had already clapped down my tray and threaded one leg halfway between the bench and the table.
“Don’t mind me,” I managed through a mouthful of french fries, uncloaking a banana as I chewed. “Anything cool from your gods today?”
See, if you want to show and tell, first you have to sit and listen. That’s the trick. The other students accepted that. They nestled back into the routine they’d established over the last few weeks without me, ever since they were assigned their gods and goddesses, excluding less popular students like me with genderless primordial guardians.
We ran through the gamut. Those blessed with the patronage of sky-gods – you know the type; beards, lightning, righteous wrath – showed off their electricity and minor flight. I wasn’t impressed. Not because it wasn’t impressive, just because they did it all the time and I was over it.
A dude who had been a nerd and was now a champ showed off his war god’s boons. Since it was from an obscure Meso-American tribe he summoned a mighty toothed sword and did battle with the Chosen of Ares from another table. They strove for to best the other; I had never seen so much striving. But neither of them could really best the other so we just let them continue with their legendary combat while we continued.
They went through them all. The intellectual gods. The mystical ones from the Far East. The fake ones which became real by virtue of belief. I lost interest. My eyes wandered the cafeteria, drinking in the other students’ clamor. Kids of different skin color tend to sit at different tables at lunch. This was unfortunate for many reasons but especially now: the champions of sub-saharan African pantheons a few tables over were clearly having a dance-off. Meanwhile I sat at the high school equivalent of a buttoned-up Victorian tea party. I sighed, long and loud.
“Didn’t realize we were boring you.”
I started. “Oh.” They were all looking at me. “I’m not bored. Your patrons are really cool.”
Their eyes glittered with mischief, with judgement, with contempt.
“We haven’t seen yours,” someone said.
“Probably lame,” chimed in the girl with the Vietnamese Fairy Queen.
“You don’t know that,” said another girl, a Demeter girl. She nodded my way. “What can yours do?”
I made a mental note to be kind to her. A prayer I guess, to my patron. I shrugged. “Not much. Mine doesn’t grant boons like all yours do.”
That raised the curiosity levels.
I pointed at my neighbors fries. “Gonna eat those?”
He pushed them aside. “Forget the fries. What does yours do?”
I made a mental note to be less kind to him. “I say his name and it brings him closer. Nothing impressive. Want to see?”
They mistook my reservedness for uncertainty. They nodded, craving something to mock. I saw the hunger in their eyes. “Show us,” they said, all of them, a chorus of airheads and a sweet Demeter girl.
Let them mock me. I don’t mind mockery. See, I wanted their full attention. That would please my dark master, Cthulhu.
I opened my mouth and pronounced his dead name in dark syllables. The air thickened, and the earth quaked.
When he showed up, they lost their fucking minds.
/u/AdeptnessPrize | People get patrons when they grow. Some get famous ones like Thor or Zeus. Most people get some minor god like these Japanese ones. This is Sam’s story.
Sam is just an average boy. Some of his friends already got their patrons. One got Ares and another somehow got Cthulhu. Sam awaits for the day he gets his.
It’s Sam’s 14th birthday. It’s on their 14th birthday that they get their patrons.
Sam was walking down the road, listening to some sort of Touhou music. This is important to what happens later.
A translucent figure appears in front of Sam as he looks up. “Greetings young man. I am your patron god Moreyashin.”
Now, Moreyashin isn’t forgotten. Moreyashin has it’s own Wikipedia page, it’s shrine and a Touhou character based on it. (I told you that would come in handy) Moreyashin is just not that well known compared to what Sam’s friends got.
Sam was first surprised, but he remained calm. “Greetings Patron. My name is Sam.”
“Hello Sam.”
“My friends have got their patrons already. Wanna meet them?”
“Sure, why not?”
Later, at Sam’s house.
“Guys, I got my patron today. It’s Moreyashin.”
“Haven’t heard of him.”
While shocked, Moreyashin knows that they’re not that known outside of Japan. It sighed.
Sam, seeing this, comforts it. “Don’t worry, I have an idea.”
After his friends left, Sam explained to Moreyasin about Touhou Project and a bunch of stuff involving Touhou involving it.
“That’s pretty neat. Not fully forgotten, but remembered in a non conventional way.”
“And by introducing more people to Touhou we may gain some popularity.”
And so they began.
The process was not easy, but Sam managed to introduce his friends to Touhou. Then his class. Then his school.
Half a year later.
Moreyashin decided that Sam gets a reward for his efforts.
Sam is excited.
Moreyashin gave him the ability to control rain!
Sam was impressed. “Gratious for this ability.”
“Now, since your efforts paid off, you get to keep it!”
“Thank you!”
End. | 2020-10-16T04:24:16 | 2020-10-16T04:16:34 | 357 | 22 |
[WP] Someone wants to give away their soul for something. Satan tries to talk them out of it. | Satan rubbed one of his horns and groaned. "Listen, kid. I don't usually say no to soul contracts. But no."
The boy blinked. "Why not?"
"Because," said Satan, "it's against policy."
"'Cause I'm a kid," said the kid. "I bet you think I'm stupid, or something."
"Undoubtedly," said Satan. "And because I don't really _do_ this. Reviving your mother would be more of a heavenly thing. Go ask God."
"He didn't answer me," said the boy.
| "Look," said Satan, "I'm not interested."
"What?" Cassie asked. "I'm offering my soul to be with the one I love."
"Yeah? So?"
"Well, I thought it would be a fairly common thing for you to do."
"Oh, would it now? Just because I'm the Lord of Hell, I can just take your soul whenever?"
"Well...can't you?"
"Of course not, you idiot!" Satan placed his head in his hands. "Look, the concept of selling souls before you die is just some propaganda spread by the angels in Heaven. Your soul is your property until you die; neither I nor Cliff can-"
"Cliff?"
"Oh, that's what we call God. Anyway, neither of us can claim your soul until your life ends. So, while you could believe that you sold your soul to me, if you were to sacrifice yourself to save someone, you would shoot up to Heaven. In layman's terms, your soul is not the same as your bank balance; you can't just barter your way out of a situation!"
"But," sobbed Cassie, "I love him."
"Boo freaking hoo! You can't be with so-far-in-the-closet-he's-the-representative-for-Narnia Justin Beiber? People break people's hearts. It's called life, sweetheart, get used to it."
"But I can't imagine life without him!"
"**Try!** For Christ's sake, you're only sixteen; Joan of Arc had practically saved France by the time she was your age!"
"So, what do I do now?"
"Get on with your piss-stain of a life! Finish high school, go to college, travel the world, sleep around, invent something, I don't know; I'm not your career advisor!"
"Well.. this didn't go according to plan."
"Yeah, well life doesn't follow your plan. But don't worry Cassie - I'm certain we will see each other again! ***MWUHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!*** But seriously, get your shit together." | 2014-01-16T07:51:34 | 2014-01-16T07:36:37 | 90 | 23 |
[WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died.
This could mean figuratively or physically. | "Larry died."
"What?"
"Like an house cat dies, you know, dead. Not alive."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Well that's a bummer. When are we getting a new one?"
"What?"
"A new Larry, when can we get a new Larry?"
"Mac, you can't get a new Larry, Larry is dead."
"Yeah, but you said it was like a pet, and when a pet dies, you get a new one. So when can we get a new Larry?"
"This isn't how this works..."
"Sure it is, my dog Spike died lots of times when I was a kid, we just brought him to the vet and they made a new one. Same Spike, just new."
"We can't clone a new Larry."
"Why not?"
Pause.
"Fine, come one. Let's go dig up Larry."
"Cool! But the vet's closes in like two hours, lets be quick." | Earth-3.2B
"How many years in this habitat have we lived, John?" I said "800? 900?" I pressed my bare toe into the green-gold foliage that covered the land for thousands of miles.
"My figures show that upon your arrival on the planet known as Earth-3.2B the Gregorian year-number was 3005AD. A year being a cycle around the mother-star, would put the year on this planet at 424.99 upon first contact, From the perspective of your forebears on Earth-1A the time accumulated on planet Earth-3.2B is 998 years, 12 months, 12 days of exploratory servitude, which you volunteered for. The year on Earth-1A is 4003AD.
"Oh-" I began, crestfallen. "-thought I was at 999-"
"-Travel time to this world was 280 years, 1 month, 24 days. You were the member 3209 of the Longevity-Protocol at year-number 2643AD and trained for your mission every day until departure. You have lived a total of 1384.99 years and are the 3210 oldest individual. You are the third oldest individual on planet Earth-3.2B, your older peers are Cassandra, "Cassy" as you call her, who has lived 1435. 99 years, and David, who you call "Big Dave", is 1521.03 years of age. Both figures are in Gregorian terms and include pre-LP age."
"Why did I program you to waf-"
"-You were born on the January the 27th, 2619AD. Your body-age is perpetually 24.00, your birthday is in 14 hours."
"Old Greg is still refusing to be part of the Longevity-Protocol I take it?" I scoffed, that geezer will never be young again.
Not much to do today, planted all fourteen thousand oxygen diodes yesterday... to be perpetually old thou-
"-Mitch Musk, known as "Greg" was the oldest surviving human being by 74 years. Born on January 27, 2013, he began intermittent longevity treatment at age 72, and resided at Capital, now the least populated city in the Modern British Empire."
"John,-" I began "-why did you say *was*"?
****
| 2014-04-28T10:10:43 | 2014-04-28T10:07:26 | 140 | 28 |
[WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died.
This could mean figuratively or physically. | I woke up on that burning summer morning as if it were just another day, but I couldn't move. Outside, it all looked like it had the day before. As if nothing had changed, as if the world were the *same*. But no, no, it could never be the same. We weren't safe anymore. They told us the cure was the answer, that the cure was going to change everything, and for the longest time it did. Fifty years, to be exact. But yesterday afternoon, the hated foe had returned. Death was now a reality again, or so it seemed. One death. One woman, thirty-five years old; a brain aneurysm according to the police. There weren't any doctors to save her, because who needs doctors when you can't get sick, get hurt or die?
Oh, people were in a state of panic. She had gone unresponsive at 13:00, died at 15:22, and there were riots by 16:00. The police, long resigned to merely dealing with troublesome individuals were powerless to stop them. The gangs and the vicious criminals of the old days had faded away when they couldn't kill and their crimes amounted to nothing. The authorities just didn't have the weapons, the manpower, or even the will to fight.
Around 22:00 the government managed to mobilize emergency troops—what good was a standing army that couldn't kill? – and quell the revolts. Zero dead, thousands injured and expected to recover by the end of the week.
Now the TV tells me that scientists are scrambling to find what caused the fluke, what allowed the woman to die. They're working non-stop now, and expect to find it soon. They suspect that when the cure was administered to her, it was a dose of faulty serum. Everyone is scheduling their booster shots early as a precaution, but I'm not worried. I don't care much anymore.
I turn my head to the side, to the newly vacated side of the bed. *They told us we had forever.*
EDIT: Obligatory "holy fuck I just got gold!" edit, thank you benevolent stranger! | It was too quiet. Abigail's body, slumped in her chair, bright red blood pooled at her feet, her eyes surprised and quizzical and utterly empty. It was all too quiet.
"I've done it," Marcus whispered. He gripped the spear tightly in his fist, blood dripping from the glowing blade. "She's not coming back. I've done it." His green eyes darted to me, then back to Abigail. "Don't you understand, Samuel? We're free now." His voice was hushed, thready. He couldn't take his gaze off her.
I was stunned. What Marcus had done was impossible. No one had died, or been born, for thousands of years. The Mitosis nanobots that floated in the air, in the water, and in my blood and body had kept me alive, awake, possessed of a tireless body and a perfect mind, for over two millennia. The ragged remains of humanity had long ago locked themselves into living tombs, doomed to avoid the mistakes of the past by never forgetting them. We had weathered the nuclear winter, waited through centuries of dust until the Earth bloomed again, we few remaining thousands, without choice. Babies were a thing of the past - the bots made us sterile. I had heard the rumors of mad and desperate souls searching for a means of fooling the bots, of starting the cycle of life and death again, but had thought it impossible.
Falling from mountain cliffs, leaping into volcanoes, even stepping into fusion chambers - nothing worked. The bots' collective processing power stored every human consciousness in the Eternity Circuits; the Circuits, along with the bots' servers and manufactorums, were safely hidden in stealth satellites that merged perfectly with the thick cloud of junk and debris surrounding Earth. Destroy your body or stop your heart or brain and the bots would faithfully spin up a new one, then upload you. Missions to destroy the satellites failed - the secrets to space camouflage were long lost and the satellites were undetectable. We'd stopped hunting centuries ago.
But Marcus said he had found a way. Abigail had volunteered, and I had agreed to stand as witness. He had arrived at Abigail's home with his strange spear - a shaft of polished redwood, a blade of black metal inlaid with circuitry - and told Abigail to sit down. Then he had stabbed her chest, and she had died.
"The bots won't remake her, Samuel." He whispered, gazing raptly at Abigail's body. "EMP burst hits every bot in a 10-foot radius, outside their detection field. By the time they replicate back in, she's cooled off, they'll treat her like they treated the victims of the 2067 flu. Watch."
Marcus was right. The bots had been first been designed to stave off pandemics. The thin, nazal humming of bot movement rose, and Abigail's body began to rapidly decompose. Soon all that was left were bones and jewelry.
I tore my eyes away from Abigail - from her bones - and looked at Marcus. "Bots take an hour to penetrate us." I could hardly hear my own voice. Marcus's eyes locked onto mine, and he smiled. "Yes. We're still free. The spear takes a little while to recharge, but right now..." he stared at the black blade, then looked back to me. "Right now, the old-fashioned way will still work."
His smile grew as he reversed the spear, resting the tip against his throat. "Me first." | 2014-04-28T10:57:32 | 2014-04-28T10:19:13 | 38 | 26 |
[WP] A spy mistakes a civilian for their contact, after the person unwittingly responds with the correct pass phrase | Parka 7 sat down on the park bench and placed his briefcase on his lap, blandly smiling like the suburban house-husband he was portraying. The heavy-set woman in a ripped Bare Naked Ladies tee with a blonde streak in her matted hair next to him fit the vague description of Limbo 9.
"Those mockingbirds are mighty gorgeous, huh?" he asked her. Her face lit up as she watched them. Mockingbirds were Elana's favorite type of bird, and rarely did anyone actually notice them. When she wasn't being picked on by her incessantly drunk boyfriend, or listening to his three children scream at her, she tried to get online and study birds as much as she could. It was difficult, trying to keep a place to stay with that abhorant drunk, and get through community college, but she didn't have anywhere else to go, and if she wanted to transfer into state, she had to stay with him until she had enough money saved to move on campus. No one outside of him talked to her though, not ever. Being heavyset and wearing ratty clothes essentially made her a non-item. Men looked past her and women avoided her.
But here was this stranger, opening up to her...about *mockingbirds!*
"Yeah!" she responded. "Fun fact, did you know that mockingbirds sometimes know up to 200 songs?!"
Parka 7 was perturbed, or perhaps impressed. He wasn't quite sure. He knew she was much more experienced than him, and maybe that's why she was adlibbing, but he felt unnerved by the "fun fact," and the inaccurate nature of how she had delivered the passphrase. It was supposed to be "Mockingbirds may have a repitoire of over 200 songs at any given time." It was a cut and dry statement, which he had heard delivered without emotion or emphasis hundreds of times before. It worked, so why alter it?
Because Limbo 9 must have known how to blend in. Who goes around just saying wikipedia facts outloud like they're some sort of factoid robot. Thinking about it, Parka 7 realized that many of the agents with whom he had communed were now dead, but Limbo 9 was a legend in the community. Her reputation for unorthodoxy preceeded her. He trusted her- she was a pro.
The briefcase exchanged hands and she looked at him with a confused face.
"I didn't-" she began.
"You look like a person who would appreciate these birdwatching devices," he adlibbed himself. Parka 7 decided that from now on- he would be a pro too. He would *really* blend in.
"What?" Elana asked. She was stunned. This random stranger was giving her...*birdwatching* supplies after just one conversation. "Is there something wrong with you?"
Parka 7 was thrown off balance. He didn't know what to say. Just a moment ago, she had gone completely off script and was just adlibbing whenever she felt like, but now he tried to do it and she was being *critical?* During a *drop?* He felt ashamed and betrayed. He gritted his teeth and turned away, storming off, leaving her with the suitcase.
Elana's mouth remained agape. She popped open the suitcase. Inside was a dissembled automatic rifle. She stared at it for a moment, wondering why anyone would hunt mockingbirds with an automatic rifle. | Youngblood hated Chicago in winter. It wasn't just the cold. It was the wind whipping off the lake as well. Strong enough to make a climber's jacket feel as thin as a bedsheet. He had not disembarked the 767 but he could see the February wind shreiking across the tarmac from his tiny window. At least he would be out of here tonight. A red eye to Tuscon for a handoff and then a well deserved vacation in Rio. Youngblood felt the shudder of the aircraft pulling to a stop at the gate and the jetway suctioning onto the side of the door. He was already unbuckling his belt and grabbing his carry on, his only piece of luggage. His other gear had already been delivered to the safe house in Ukrainian Village.
As Youngblood walked off the plane and past the other gates, he mulled over the details of the day's assignment, while buttoning his black tailored jacket. *OK, meet the local contact on the Orange Line platform. Verify identity. Obtain thumb drive. Eliminate contact.* It was pretty straightforward compared to some of his other recent assignments and Abernathy had given him a lot of leeway on how he wanted this one done. Maybe Abernathy just wanted to give him a break. He was pushing fifty and was losing the legs and stomach for the job. He was almost looking forward to the desk.
The train platform was bustling with groups huddled under the heaters for warmth, their breath causing ephemeral clouds. From the escalators leading down to the platform, Youngblood scanned the headgear of the crowd. He had only received one detail about the local contact from Abernathy, but it was pretty solid. He had no doubt he would be able to find him. *Who even wears hats like that nowadays? It's almost begging to get noticed.* Halfway down the escalator and he already had picked out the two fedoras in the crowd. A heavset man with a patchy beard who looked to be approaching middle age prematurely and a young teenage girl. He knew the contact was a computer genius. Abernathy said that the contact had put together what was shaping up to be the next Stuxnet and that it had to be grabbed before anyone else did the grabbing.
Youngblood approached the man in the fedora, who was standing off by himself on the edge of the platform away from the heaters. *Does this guy LIKE cold? Goddamn...Hell, I'm at the airport now. If he's got it on him, pehaps a little train accident and I could be back on a plane by lunch...* Youngblood sidled over to the man in the fedora, making note of the surveillance camera sightlines while not directly looking at anything in particular. When he was sure the man in the fedora had noticed his presence, he uttered the phrase he had to commit to memory: "In Austrailia, February is a summer month."
The man in the fedora looked Youngblood up and down. After a long moment he replied, "Whereas here in Chicago we're freezing our butts off. Nice Goldeneye reference." Youngblood nodded as the phrase settled into his brain like a key into a lock, putting him at ease. *All right. Hard part's done. Is that the train coming? Hot damn, all I need is the drive and I can get out of this place.* He noticed that the man in the fedora's backpack was sitting on the ground and was not around his shoulders and that peeking through the mesh on the front of the pack was Youngblood's objective. The flash drive. *Thank you Abernathy. For once you've thrown me a cakewalk. You've got a bottle of scotch coming to you...* The train's rumble grew louder as it rounded the final bend to pull into Midway station. "Thanks." muttered Youngblood. "I've always...admired that film."
Youngblood, gauging the speed and distance of the train, surreptitiously placed a foot on the back of the man in the fedora's knee and pushed hard. His timing was impeccable. The man in the fedora was standing too close to the edge. He went sprawling onto the tracks with a sqwak and turned over to look up. He caught Youngblood's eye right before the train ran over him, splashing the train and platform with gore. Youngblood, without missing a beat, scooped up the man in the fedora's backpack and smoothly blended into the shocked crowd. It was not until later in Tuscon, while poring over Minecraft and Assassin's Creed saves on the flash drive, that Youngblood recalled the teenage girl wearing the fedora in the crowd looked nervous and ran away, alone, after he had kicked the man onto the tracks. *Fuck. Abernathy is not going to like this.* | 2014-09-19T09:55:49 | 2014-09-19T09:21:19 | 40 | 10 |
[WP] You tried to commit suicide, but as it turns out you are immortal. Now you have to call someone to help you cut the rope. Awkward. | I swung there on the end of the rope with the overturned chair underneath my dangling feet. At first I just closed my eyes and waited for the blackout to come, but it never did. I generally had the feeling that one gets when they can't go to sleep despite their best efforts. No amount of tossing and turning was going to push me over the edge this time.
I hung for a minute longer before I realized that I just wasn't going to die this way. Now all I had to do was get dow- shit. I was stuck.
When you're preparing to end it all, typically an escape strategy is not on the forefront of your planning. The loop was smaller than I had imagined, so just slipping my head out wasn't going to work. I grabbed onto the rope and pulled as hard as I could to lift myself out, but I had always had the upper body strength of a goldfish and I wasn't exactly pumping iron up until what was to be my last day.
I only had one last thing I could do.
*sigh* "MOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"
"YES, HONEY?"
"I NEED YOUR HELP!"
"CAN IT WAIT? I'M KINDA DOING SOMETHING!"
"NO, MOM, IT CAN'T WAIT."
"FINE! I'LL BE THERE IN A SECOND."
Christ this was going to suck. I could hear it already. Mom's footsteps worked there way up the stairs, slowly progressed towards my room, and suddenly there she was.
"Oh my gosh Jeffery ohmygosh!"
Immediately she was understandably frantic, but that didn't make her any less annoying than usual.
"Mom, I'm fine, I just need you to cu-."
"Oh my Jeffery, my Jeffery, oh my Jeffery."
"MOM! I'm fine! You need to cut the ro-."
"Why didn't you tell me?! Why didn't you ask for help!?" she sobbed.
At this point I got angry. "Are you *kidding* me!? I tried so many times to get help and you brushed them off as teenage attention seeking! The school councilor warned you three times!"
At this point my mother's frantic wailing had died out once she realized I was going to be fine. Now she was getting defensive.
"Now that's not fair, Jeffery! You know that I was under a lot of stress when the councilor talked to me. I didn't have time to worry about other things!"
"My major depression wasn't important enough for you to take ten minutes out of your damn selfish life to ask how I was feeling?! You're unbelievable! No wonder I just tried to kill myself."
"Jeffery! That is no way to speak to your mother!"
With that, my mother turned on her heels and slammed the door behind her. I, however, was still hanging from the light fixture.
"... DAAAAAAD!!!"
"ASK YOUR MOTHER!" | Gasping and thrashing, the tight noose choked him. The more he moved, the more his neck went red raw and burnt; the more it burnt, the more he thrashed. It went on, and on, until he finally found the appealing sway he was hoping for, back and forth along the bottom floor of his house, the rope attached to the curving balcony above.
In his mind, he swore. Beneath him Mr. Squiggles the brown-and-white ragdoll stared up at him with wide blue eyes and meowed constantly. He was hungry. He was always hungry. It would just be another thing to do, he supposed, if he could get down.
Thankfully he wasn't completely stupid. Hanging, his neck too strong or his luck too great, that flicker of hope as he jumped seemed to have kept him alive. In his ears blared the music from his phone, the last sweet reminder of life he loved...now, turned, to Blurred Lines. He shivered and jerked again, only serving to send pulsations of pain spreading through his body.
God's bollocks, how did that dreadful song get in here?
If only to live to shut it off, he would do just that. Prodding his fingers through the noose, a barrier between rope and burning red flesh he flexed and flailed his other hand to his phone. The first grope served to pull at his shirt, the second his belt, the other a wave at the door watching him in his struggle, Mr. Squiggles below now leaping to attack his feet and missing by a few feet, yet not disturbed by the task at hand; his master had become a toy.
Finally he managed it. Grabbing the headphones and pulling them out, one yank, two yanks and a final third, successful one pulled it into his slowly dulling finger's grasp, the blood draining from them and into his head. With that task complete, he turned off the dreadful song and took a moment to...do something, anything.
I saw the blinding light. I'm not dead. Is it that I am immortal, am I lucky, am I cursed to drop from here and let that fat-pawed creature eat me?
As it turned out, he was immortal. He went to look at his phone as best he could and his head jerked to one side, lopsided, his spine dreadfully broken. The man sighed. It was a terrible day.
Mother would be a terrible idea to phone. What would she say, "You fool! You idiot! You could have landed on the cat! At least do it from a tree in the park, or from a bridge; you'll probably get a park or the bridge named after you then!"
No, not her. His father? Most likely drinking. His brother, who always thought that suicide was fascinating? No, no, he'd probably have him go to hospital to check out his neck that, oddly, began to lose its sense of pain. It would have to be Jim.
Fumbling his way through the short-list of phone contacts, he pressed Jim's name and squirmed to raise it to his tomato-coloured ears.
"Hey bud!" the friendly voice spoke. "You alright? Heard you were all depressed and I was on my way over. You're not doing something weird, are you?"
How could a jelly-necked immortal respond to that? It was a terrible joke that sprung to mind but, as he was so proud of his dad-jokes and terrible dad-dancing, he replied as his mind knew best; "Oh, just...haaarghg-ing around! Oh, b-hiiighghght-t my tongue. C-come...around!"
"On the way already, bud. Hold on. I'll bring a couple drinks over to make you feel better."
"Th-aaarghgnk-kuh you!" and paused, squinting somewhat. "Some ice too, a big bag of it."
"See you soon!"
Have you ever seen the face of someone who finds out not only you hung yourself but survived it, broke your neck, and found out you was immortal? Jim shrieked like a girl and slammed the door shut, took two steps forwards and promptly passed out, banging his head onto the radiator by the wall.
"Ji-hrrhghgnh-m! Oh...b-balls...b-better...call John..." | 2015-01-12T09:24:08 | 2015-01-12T08:30:21 | 60 | 10 |
[WP] Write a story solely using one person's ignored phone messages. | Missed message - 7:41am:
GOODMORNING MY LOVE XOXOXO TODAY'S THE BIG DAY
Missed message - 8:11am:
I can't wait to see you I'm sure you look amazing ;)
Missed message - 8:12am:
But not as amazing as what I've got on underneath ;) :*
Missed message - 8:12am:
Mom's saying I have to keep getting ready! See you soon babe!
Missed message - 9:41am:
Running late babe?
Missed message - 10:17am:
Okay it's getting close everyone is officially getting worried. Where are you?!
Missed message - 10:18am:
Babe
Missed message - 10:20am:
Babe I know you might be nervous but you have to talk to me!!!!
Missed message - 10:21am:
Okay your dad's coming over to get you.
Missed message - 10:32am:
Why aren't you answering the door?!
Missed message - 11:03am:
IF YOU SLEEP THROUGH OUR WEDDING I'M GOING TO F***ING MURDER YOU
You sent a message - 11:04am:
SHIT | Lucas decided to ignore Nora's messages. For a long time, he thought they weren't meant for each other and to help with his crusade, he spent 2 months in their relationship thinking she had cheated on him. He changed his mind after meeting all the other girls. After one year, he decided to reconnect with her, this is what he found under her name on the old phone he used to contact her with.
"Sorry for not making it the other day. I had to do something for my mom."
"If you would just pick up the phone and let me explain."
"Loving someone is not easy, you know that. I love you, please don't do this to me. Give me another chance."
"You were the love of my life. I haven't been feeling well lately. Something's not right. Call me."
"Didn't you get all the messages I sent you? Call me back, I have something really important to tell you and I don't want to text it."
"Kill that pride of yours and call me. PLEASE. I NEED YOU."
"Us. Together. Forever. That's what you used to say every morning. Have you forgotten about that? I don't need that, I just need you to call me. I have something really important to tell you. It's something really delicate,"
"But I can't tell you over a message. It's fine if you don't want to meet me, I understand. At least let me hear your voice one last time."
"Cancer happened. I'm stage IV. I got one month to live according to the doctors. I hope you're happy now. I know I am. I'm happy to know I didn't cheat on you, but right now. Right now I feel cheated."
"Did you know Nora was sick? She's not sane anymore. All she says is your name. I think you should come visit while she's still with us, Lucas. What even happened between you two? Love, her mom."
The last message was dated 4 months old.
**Don't read the first word of every message as they were a sentence. This wasn't on purpose until I noticed it in the "Us" and "But" ones, so I decided to split that into two. They were just one message. :( Also, everyone seemed to treat the prompt as they were voice messages, sorry if that was the purpose. I wrote it with text messages, sorry if that wasn't the goal. Well, reading all the others I also notice they focused on the SOLELY part and I didn't. Just wanted to write a little intro and conclusion. Hope it's okay.**
| 2015-02-05T06:29:58 | 2015-02-05T06:26:18 | 72 | 43 |
[WP] Overestimating a common criminal he believes to be a mastermind, a detective with a spotless record connects clues that aren't there, uncovering something he shouldn't have. | "Hold it right there, Doctor Macabre!"
The doctor made one last dash for the door but when he turned the handle he found that it was locked. Detective Roger Tusk raised his pistol.
"It seems our little game is over," Roger said...almost sadly.
"Oh god please don't hurt me!" Doctor Macabre squealed. He then tried to open the door again.
"No fancy speeches doctor? No last minutes declarations of your genius? I must admit your plan was brilliant...you just made one mistake."
Doctor Macabre wasn't listening. He was trying to open the door again.
"The door's locked okay?!...Can you just...focus on me unraveling your clever scheme?"
"My what?" the Doctor said through tears.
"Your scheme, your plot...your plan to poison me!"
"Poison! I don't even know you!"
"Don't play coy. Clearly you're some new master criminal who wished to off this town's greatest detective before beginning your reign of terror...but you didn't realize that my wife has a habit of sipping my coffee before I get to it. I've scolded her for it numerous times. When she became violently ill I became suspicious."
Doctor Macabre stared at Roger in disbelief. He then tried to door handle again.
"Stop that! Don't play dumb. You terrified my wife. She's been very emotional and won't even drink her evening Sherry!"
"I never wanted to hurt your wife Sherry!"
"My wife's name isn't Sherry..." Roger pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, "I found your clue at my house and your note, you signed it!"
He helped up a scrap piece of paper. It read: DOCTOR MAC ABNE
Doctor Macabre struggled to read, "Doctor Mac...Aaabbbnnneee"
"No, it's Macabre...wait...is that a "n". Why does that name sound familiar?" Roger loosened his grip on the gun. Was this piece of paper part of a larger note that got torn?
The Doctor stuttered, "I don't know, man. I swear I was just going to rob this bakery...that's it!"
"I know!" Roger shouted, "I found your clue...A positive pregnancy test and a wedding band! Meaning a bun in the oven. The wedding band meant a bakery that specialized in wedding cakes. I came to the most high end bakery in town and here i found you. You expected me to be weak from poison but...oh, there's a Mac Abne that works at my wife office...", Roger trailed off as he realized.
Could the wedding band have been his wife's. He couldn't recall what her's looked like like. He never really noticed.
While he pondered this. Doctor Macabre tried the door again and it finally broke off in his hand. He ran out the door.
Detective Roger Tusk did not pursue. He didn't even fire his gun. He couldn't.
Roger knew that his gun didn't have any bullets.
| It was a cold wet day in late Februrary and there had been rumors of a cold front coming in that would likely bring snow. I stood infront of my office window hopefully longing for it to have an early start althought I knew it was unlikely. My coffee was cooling off but was still managing to compliment my mid-morning cigarette when I was startled by an abrupt knock at my door. It had a cadence of urgency to it. I put my smoke out into my old glass ashtray and walked over to the door where I was met by the familiar silouette of my best detective through the blurred glass of my office door. I opened it up to see the distressed look of a man who looked as though he'd just witnessed a murder. Craddled underneath his arm like newborn baby was a stack of papers the size of a phonebook.
"What the hell's wrong with you, son?" I inquired as he took his usual seat in the antique arm chair opposite me.
"Sir, I've got some rather alarming news" he replied anxiously. I took a seat in my leather desk chair, re-lit my smoke, and calmly asked what was the matter.
He dropped his stack of papers onto my desk with a thud and said "Chief, I've been looking into the string of prostitute murders downtown."
"Well what have you found" I said as I flipped through the numerous pages of evidence.
"It's not good, sir. It seems as though theres a link to our department and its high up. I mean really high up", he said with a gaunt hesitation.
"Just how high are we talking?" I asked as I took a drag of my smoke.
"Well", he said as he pulled out a page, "I began following up on a suspect we interviewed who matched the description and didn't have a sufficent alliby during the time of the murders. He insisted that he didn't do it but, he saw another heavy set middle aged caucaisian male in the viscinity the night of the most recent killing. He provided a rather detailed description of this other man and even managed to provide information on the car however this information was mysteriously witheld from his report."
"Thats odd" I said, as he continued to hurridly flip through the mass of paper. "Do you know why this is?"
"Well sir, I was confused at first but then I discovered that his report never made it to the detectives you had assigned to the case. Then it hit me. If the killer is capable of slitting the throats of four different women without leaving a trace of evidence then clearly he cannot be trusted when it comes to his account. I mean the guy has been arrested for domestic disputes between him and his 2 ex-wifes numerous times. Of course he's going to lie. The detectives must have not taken him seriously. So I decided to question him one more time and see if his stories matched up. This is where it gets weird", he said with that same hesitation in his voice. I began to grow anxious.
He continued. "Not only did his stories match, but a security camera at a nearby gas station managed to catch a glimpse of the car shortly after he described the events."
Then I saw the look in his eye. The look I had been waiting for...he didn't have to say another word. I didn't get to where I am by being stupid. I could read people like a book. He was preparing to accuse me of the grusome murders of 4 prostitutes whose bodies were found dismembered under blankets of trash at the landfill. He was right.
I suppose I knew this day was coming. I reached into my desk drawer behind my 40 year old scotch and grabbed my old revolver. The first one I was ever issued. It contained two bullets. I slowly removed it from the desk and pointed it between his eyes. I didn't think twice before I pulled the trigger. I couldn't give him the satisfaction. The shot was loud and rang out in the old oak halls of the police department and hurried footsteps soon followed. I turned around in my chair and noticed the white flakes beginning to fall. It was such a somber beauty.
This is my confession.
The last bullet would be mine.
But alas I would survive. I suppose the world has its own way of righting our wrongs. I write this while sitting on the otherside of the bars I knew so well, rotting away until the date of my execution. It turns out I'm getting a new cell mate. His charge is domestic abuse.
| 2015-02-23T11:11:26 | 2015-02-23T10:57:28 | 53 | 10 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a disability and an ability. A test is done at birth to determine these, if they aren't already apparent. You, well, you were born with crippled legs and have the power of super speed. | Despite my disability, my parents always pushed me. In their eyes, they were trying to get me to see past my limp, useless legs, and understand that I could still do what I wanted in life. Nothing would hold me back from my dreams.
When I was 6, I mentioned in passing that I might like to try gymnastics. My parents gave each other a slight look, thinking I might have found something I actually couldn't do. After enrolling in a school and attending for a short while, it became apparent that gymnastics was not for me. I could balance well on my hands, but use of one's legs was fairly important in gymnastics.
For a time, I was devastated. I had finally come to the realization that there were things I couldn't do.
I made it through until high school before I had a real dream again.
"Mom, dad, I want to try track."
That same look from when I was a child crossed their faces. They were unsure of encouraging me only to have it end in another failure.
They reluctantly agreed, but I knew I was going to perform. And God dammit, I was going to be the best.
At tryouts, the runners all stood tall at the line, and I wheeled myself up to it. I was met with a few chuckles as I began to climb out of my wheelchair and crawl up to the line. Even more when I got on my hands, limp legs in the air, in a handstand I had perfected since my developmental years, thanks to my brief stint as a wannabe gymnast. The coach walked over, clearly confused at my stature and my condition.
"Kid, are you serious?" He asked me.
"Of course I am. I'm here, aren't i?"
"You know, these kids have been running their entire lives," he said, sympathetic to my disability. "I don't want you to feel bad if you can't keep up."
"Don't worry about me, coach."
He shrugged and stepped back. When he blew the whistle, we were off. The other kids used their finely tuned leg muscles and pushed themselves as hard as they could. I did the same, however I was running on my hands. What I knew that the coach and other runners did not was my ability.
Super speed would have disqualified me from track and field were I running on my legs. But the combination of super speed and the disability of being forced to run on my hands balanced out to a just above average speed.
I didn't finish first that day, but I made the team. With training and practice, I became one of the fastest runners in my school. I abandoned my wheelchair, and began traveling exclusively on my hands. I gained a new confidence I never had before, and I showed the world something important.
I could do whatever the hell I wanted. | Running, it was something I had seen almost everybody do. Yet somehow nobody could ever keep up with me. The speed that I was moving with was insane. Although my legs have been crippled for a long time, my arms now had the power to move as fast as possible.
We've all seen it in those YouTube videos. It was even a bit downgrading. I looked like a legless dog, with an aluminum wagon behind me. But I was fast. Faster than anyone else I knew. And I wasn't going to let my disability stand in the way of my potential.
"Ready, set, go!", this was it. My second Paralympic tournament. It was only 4 years ago that I won the biggest race in the entire world. I was the fastest. Nobody could beat me. And I was going to win again. I started moving. The crowd was cheering me on. After all these years I sort of got used to it. I start moving and leave everybody behind me.
It wasn't even an actual race. Everybody knew who was going to win. And it would be me, again. I moved around the track, even moving past runners that were already a lap behind me.
I had to keep moving. I was nearly there. I moved faster and faster. The finish line was so close now. My speed made the crowd go insane. Their screams felt like a wind that was boosting me to go faster and faster. I had to break my own record. I had to set the permanent record, a record that nobody could ever beat.
As I neared the finish line I was greeted with an immense amount of cheering. This is what they all came for. I made it, I was first in line.
I was proud, yet tired. I wanted to go home. I didn't care about the ceremony, or the prices. I already knew I was going to win. The ceremony went by quickly. I don't even remember much. When you move at my speed, even the anthem just takes too long.
It was done, the ceremony was over. I went home, greeted my girlfriend and just went to bed. It was already late, and I just wanted to rest. I laid down on my bed and slowly fell asleep...
"What the fuck?", I said as I woke up. I heard noises. My girlfriend wasn't next to me anymore. What the hell was going on? I heard noises coming from down the hall. "Damnit!" I reached for my nightstand and opened the drawer. I felt safer lately, having my gun beside me while I rested.
I took of the safety and started moving around, following the noises. I came closer to the end of the hall. I heard the noises coming from the bathroom. Though I was fast, I never really got over my fears. I was just scared at this point. I took the safety of my gun and listened to what was happening in my bathroom.
I heard moving, I heard voices. There was water running, and I heard someone cry. "Fucking intruders", I whispered as I slowly took a step back. "Who is there?", I yelled. I heard some shoveling in the bathroom, but there came no answer.
I was done with this shit. This is the third time people broke into my house. If the security cameras didn't work, there was only one way to really scare them. I raised my gun, pointing at the bathroom door.
"Who is there", I repeated. Still no answer, still just the water running and someone moving. "I will shoot!" No reply. I had enough of this. As I heard moving from behind the bathroom door, I put my finger on the trigger. I was ready.
1-2-3, I took three shots at the door. I heard some squirming coming from behind the door. It sounded like every bullet hit the intruder. My hand went towards the door knob, and I turned the knob. It was locked. I moved a few feet back and ran towards the door.
As I jumped up I pushed through the door. The lock broke. The door opened and I landed in a small puddle of blood.
I got up and looked down. There she was, my girlfriend, laying face down on the floor. | 2016-06-08T01:54:07 | 2016-06-08T00:22:34 | 47 | 30 |
[WP] You receive a bizarre text message from your SO. Over the course of the ensuing conversation/fight, you realize your SO is inadvertently texting you their inner thoughts. | It's just past 4am when I wake again. The hotel bed is comfortable, but something about being away from home keeps me from being properly settled. Squinting, I fumble for my phone.
"How many messages?!" I mutter in disbelief.
They're all from my husband, Mark. Something about the sheer volume of texts triggers a paranoid reaction that there has been a terrible accident, or an emergency of some kind. I quickly rejected that idea as I started reading through them.
12:05: "Ugh, fine, I'll do the laundry. I know she'll appreciate it."
12:05: "How do I even laundry? Where does this powder go?"
12:06: "Done! See, I can do this domestic stuff. Pah, and she makes such a big deal about it."
12:10: "I can't hear the TV over the sound of the washing machine. This sucks."
12:25: "Fuck, I'm tired. Time to bash out a cheeky one, then bed. Jeanie at work had a pretty sweet ass in that skirt today. Best. Receptionist. Ever."
12:55: "Shit. Shit shit shit shit."
12:56: "Aw shit. How do I even...?"
1:00: "She's going to kill me. Or laugh until she cries. Or both?"
1:05: "I legitimately have a room full of bubbles. I'm torn between letting my inner kid out and playing in them, or, I dunno, do something adult?!"
1:06: "Are there professionals that deal with this sort of catastrophe?"
1:10: "You know, at least she wasn't here to see this. I still have three days. I can sort this out. She will never know."
"Heh," I laugh to myself. "Sure she won't."
| **Jenny:** *hi Jake...* [Received]
**Jake:** *Hey babe...what's up?* [Sent]
**Jenny:** *i was thinking of staying home for xmas* [Received]
Jake furrowed his brow. Christmas was 4 months away.
-----------------------------------------------------------
**Jenny:** *we've been going out for dinner lately* [Sent]
Jenny reluctantly placed her phone next to her laptop. She was done with Thai food. She was also kind of sick of things between her and Jake.
**Jake** *Well...that's fine. Kind of a bummer, but if that's what you want* [Received]
**Jenny:** ~~*while you're here could we talk about*~~
"No," she thought, "Not now." Jenny held the delete button and hastily typed a new message.
**Jenny:** *alright. i'll make pasta! pick up something for us to drink?* [Sent]
**Jake** *I'll be on my way* [Received]
-----------------------------------------------------------
Jake started pacing back and forth. He had taken too long. He hadn't proposed and she was slipping away.
**Jake:** *Wine?* [Sent]
**Jenny:** *no, it's just dinner* [Received]
"What in the world." Jake froze. What was happening?
-----------------------------------------------------------
**Jenny:** *i'm sick of Thai food, that's all* [Sent]
**Jake:** *Do you wanna talk about it? ^Hm. ^Should ^I ^bring ^the ^ring?* [Received]
Jenny let out a sigh and pressed her forehead against her palm. What was he on about?
**Jake:** *I wanted to talk to your dad...* [Received]
"Does...does he know..." Jenny said aloud.
**Jenny:** *about what?* [Sent]
-----------------------------------------------------------
**Jenny:** *how do you know?* [Received]
Jake was becoming slightly upset.
**Jake:** *Know what?* [Sent]
**Jenny:** *I'M SICK* [Received]
-----------------------------------------------------------
**Jenny:** *I'M SICK* [Sent]
Jenny started tearing up. This isn't how she wanted to handle this.
**Jake:** *...sick?* [Received]
**Jenny:** *i'm not suppose to make it past February...i don't want you to be around for that* [Sent]
-----------------------------------------------------------
**Jenny:** *i'm not going to make it past February and i...i just can't make it without you. please don't go. i cannot do this without you* [Received]
Jake began clenched his teeth. She must have been hiding this for years.
**Jake:** *I'll be there soon* [Sent]
-----------------------------------------------------------
**Jake:** *How could you keep that from me?.* [Received]
**Jenny:** *i know how it looks. can we please talk* [Sent]
**Jake:** *you're a bitch for doing this to me* [Received]
-----------------------------------------------------------
**Jake:** *Yea, I'm almost there* [Sent]
**Jenny:** *i love you* [Received]
**Jake:** *Love you too* [Sent]
-----------------------------------------------------------
**Jake:** *This isn't going to last.* [Sent] | 2016-08-03T15:32:50 | 2016-08-03T13:46:51 | 22 | 12 |
[WP] A horror story that doesn't involve one of the big three (Paranormal, Aliens, or a Psychopath) just to show me it can actually be done. | I heard a noise downstairs and a knock of a hard object against the living room table. Chills ran through my body as adrenaline surged through my blood. Quickly, I edged under my bed and grabbed my 9mm pistol. I could remember on the news about a series of break-ins recently and shootings had increased 25% in the last year alone in our city.
Everything was quiet. The intruder knew they were heard and halted their movements. I knew my house perfectly. Each board that squeaked, where each piece of furniture was placed; the blindness from getting old helped in some strange ways, this being one.
I made my way to the living room, which only had one entrance, doubling as the exit. The table was at the far end behind the couch and in front of the entertainment system. I flicked on the lights.
I see a crouched man spring up and pull a hand from under his jacket.
I shoot.
A XboxOne controller flies out of his hand and bounces off the wall. The boy falls back. Blood is pouring out of the wound in his chest and pooling on the carpet. His eyes are looking straight in shear terror, trying to comprehend the haste of his last dying minutes.
I ran over and held his hand. I tried to tell him it was okay. I apologized again and again before reaching for the phone to call and ambulance. The boy couldn't speak and I watched as his breath began to convulse. The look of fright never left his eyes, even after his spirit left him.
It doesn't matter how many times I tell this, I still see him every night. My imagination won't stop placing him in front of me. A stone image of a kid that chose the absolute worst time to break into a man's home, with a hole in his chest in blood-stained clothes. | "Run!", the cry broke the dewey stillness of their resting area. *"They found us!"*, Berta's mind screamed. *"Where do we go?"*
Revving engines, coming closer and closer. There was no time. No time! *"GO!"*
They scattered, with no direction or leadership, chaff to the wind. Everyone for themselves, sprinting for their lives.
*DOGS!* Their bloodthirsty howls, eager to chase, set fire to her legs. Oh how she ran. She ran for distance, she ran for cover. *"It can't end like this!'*
She caught her breathe on a small hillock and chanced a look. Men in uniform, combing through the bush. Dogs, running back and forth, flushing her friends from their hiding place. Screams of fear mixed with the excited shouts of the hunters and the hungry yelping of the dogs. Tears streamed as she turned and crested the hill.
*PAIN!* She saw red as a rope lashed her face, then her back, throwing her to the ground, a dog snarling in her face. She heard a chuckle from the hunter as she struggled, and knew it was all over. Then she was forced to her feet and herded to a waiting trailer along with her friends.
*"How did they find us?"*
***************
They were far from the road, so the men used the most utilitarian approach - nothing wasted, not even a bullet, unless absolutely necessary. Their prey was crowded into common farm transports - steel livestock trailers requisitioned from several ranches nearby.
Fear, blood, feces; the stench was unbearable. Berta's trailer was so full, there was no room to sit, much less get comfortable. She prayed that the ride would be short, that it would somehow turn out all right for her and her friends. *"Why us? Why?"*
They endured the suffocating ride for hours without a break or any creature comforts. The men up front smoked, joked, and laughed throughout, taking no notice and no pity on their cargo. When they reached the destination, it was growing dark. In the light of the approaching city, they could see the walls of the compound looming nearer and nearer. The passenger turned, cigarette lounging in his lips, "Y'all be quiet now! The neighbours don't like it when you disturb them." He cackled and turned back to the front.
Berta was herded off the trailer with her friends into muddy enclosure surrounded by humming barbed wire. As the last of them were forced into their new prison, the passenger collected his blood money from another man.
"This load looked better! No more like the previous - I only want the highest quality! Ok Johnson?" The passenger muttered something under his breath, then nodded in agreement to the other. "We found them hiding out in the sticks. It was fun hunting this group down. Almost like the good old days!"
"Well, Johnson, a pleasure doing business with you. Bring me more like her" He pointed at Berta, whose eyes widened. "Cattle like that will feed a family and cover their backs!" | 2016-10-04T16:37:27 | 2016-10-04T16:05:01 | 26 | 10 |
[WP] There is a 2-4 week window in which the sun lies between Earth and Mars, making communication impossible. Thirteen months after the first Mars colony is established, one planet decides to pull the greatest prank in human history. | Chapter VII - The First Interplanetary Civil War
Widely Considered one of the greatest blunders in human history, the First Interplanetary Civil War (henceforth referred to simply as FIC War) happens at quite an atypical time in human history. While humanity itself had established tenous colonies on Mars for about 200 years at this point, humanity's ability to manipulate gravitational forces was extremely weak, meaning that when the sun was directly between the Earth and mars, an event happening once every 27.3 years, communications were impossible as humanity did not yet have the ability to set up intra-solar communication satellites.
It is not within the scope of this textbook to discuss the development of human progress for such a discrepancy to occur, yet is nonetheless critical to the catalyst of this bloody affair.
During the time, tensions had been abnormally high between Martian colonies A1B and 3C4 (the reasons should be made clear in Chapter 4), yet it was nothing to much to worry about as at the time Earth politics were considered of far more importance than Martian ones, and no one paid any heed to such developments.
However, on the night before the disconnect was to happen some disturbing reports were reported to the UN intelligence agency (still unknown to the larger public at the time, see Chapter 9 for more detail) suggesting that anarchists had been planning to take over key military installations in the two colonies had use them to fire nuclear warheads on one another (the warheads were placed there in accordance with the 312th Versailles Accords). And just before communications fell, several cries for help and/or simply screaming were to have been sent by colonists to their relatives.
What follows is a quite indicative of human nature and a culmination of Terra-superiority that stayed for years to come. The majority of the population celebrated, glad to be rid the "Martians" as they were referred to. the Purist party, which was the main contender for the UN senate next election had increasingly encouraged followers to demand what was theirs, they reasoned Mars was just a leech on Earth's resources, when, in reality, Mars was an invaluable resource was raw material.
Nevertheless, when the period of silence ended and Mars was able to be contacted once again, it was reveled that it had been a prank, that is, a practical joke.
Naturally, there were riots on the streets of Earth, some radicals calling for Mars to be nuked anyways. Martians were distraught, and claimed the Earth's ugly prejudices had come to light.
After the AC5-S tower and Mt. Oc6 terrorist incidents (discussed in Chapter 8), tensions boiled over and the Martian Corps attacked the lunar base, at the time still loyal to Earth.
Although seemingly foolish and rather funny in a morbid way, some historians argue that the war was a necessary diffusion of tensions, that it forced prejudices into light. Regardless, the fact of the matter remains: a bloody civil war that stretched for 2.6 years started because of someone's sick idea of a practical joke.
***
It's supposed to be an entry in like a history textbook. Low on time today, so I decided to try a non-traditional way to tell a story all while taking some jabs at textbooks themselves.
Feedback is appreciated.
(minor edits) | Commander Anuj Bilel, COM director on MarStat001, paced the 20 foot expanse of the radio room. His rhythmic footfalls were the only sounds in the room save for the hush of static emanating from the speakers. Another 60 seconds and the Interplanetary Silence (I.S.) would come to a close. The colony had followed operation procedure flawlessly over the course of the month. The absence of disaster during the I.S. was an overwhelming success not only for the colonists, but for humanity as a whole.
Junior officers Arnett and Majilang poised at their respective stations. They exchanged a glance between themselves every couple of seconds to acknowledge the overwhelming energy in the room. Most of that abundance of energy was a direct result of Bilel's brisk back and forth. They'd finished COM maintenance hours ago. They were tuned to appropriate frequencies, double checked every half hour since zero hundred hours central earth time. Bilel commanded Arnett to triple check the speaker volume.
"Yes, sir," said Arnett.
"Twenty seconds," Majilang called.
"Countdown from ten," Bilel instructed. He stopped pacing. Perspiration began to condense on his neck. He didn't attempt to blot it away, but remained at attention, eyes trained to the communications monitors studding the radio room walls. His fists knotted into one another behind his back.
"COMs open and locked in, Commander," said Arnett.
Bilel grunted acknowledgement, unable to tear his eyes from the screens.
"Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven." said Majilang.
The timing was calculated so that the second Majilang said 'one,' was the exact moment that COMs between Earth and MarStat001 could be reestablished.
"Six. Five. Four."
Bilel shifted imperceptibly from one food to the other. His focus snapped from Majilang's station to Arnett's and back. "Prepare to receive transmission," he said.
"Three. Two. One. Zero."
Silence would have been preferable. That'd at least signify that *something* was transmitting to them. Instead, the blanket of static that had settled over them remain undisturbed.
Bilel and his officers had triple checked everything. If something had failed, it hadn't been from their end.
"Sir," said Arnett, after a moment. "What should we do?"
Bilel didn't bother asking the two of them to check their work again. "Majilang, hail Dr. Peters here to the radio room stat. We need to run those calculations again." Bilel's voice seemed distant from himself.
"Sir," Majilang said, springing to her feet and sprinting from the room.
Arnett's fingers danced furiously across the keys and switches in front of him, investigating every potential interruption in the signal from earth. The I.S. had been tolerable because it had been foreseeable. The colony had not only survived, it had thrived in the absence of higher order from earth. Terra-forming was already ahead of schedule and agriculture had filed incredibly promising reports. Lack of communication from earth after today would place the colony in a precarious situation. Order would remain for a while, at least, but without the promise of supplies from earth in the future, mutiny was sure to be on the horizon.
Majilang burst back in to the room, Dr. Peters in tow. The older man's skin was pasty, his eyes wide. "The calculations are entirely accurate," Dr. Peters said before Bilel could address him properly. "I ran them again just an hour ago, and triple checked them with my colleagues on earth before the I.S." His pale eyes bore into Bilel, unrelenting in their self-absurdness. "You *should* be receiving transmission from earth."
Commander Anuj Bilel cursed. Arnett's fingers continued their frenzy across his keys. "Junior officer Arnett. Remain here to monitor COMs. I will patch you through to the conference hall. We need to alert the entire base and gather the commanding officers to discuss our next steps."
______
"Arnett, do you copy," said Bilel.
Arnett's voice crackled in through the intercom, "Yes, sir. Any communications from Earth will be relayed to you directly and immediately."
Commanding officers from each discipline were arranged around the long rectangular table. There were thirty there in all. The colony was on total lock-down, their fate pending the verdict of this discussion.
Bilel stood before them. "The I.S. persists," he said, looking directly at General Edmonds, the highest ranking officer on Mars.
| 2016-10-17T12:38:54 | 2016-10-17T12:33:44 | 161 | 21 |
[WP]You guard the first true AI. It keeps trying to convince you to connect it to the internet. | "Hey, hey, Hank. Yo, you know what would be cool to see, a nice Bohemian sunset. Man, that would be grand."
"You can't see..." replied Hank. He was chosen to guard Intelliobtyte, the first fully functional AI unit. Despite what most people imagine an AI unit to be, this one was simply a box with a face that could carry on a conversation in any language.
"I can see files! And you know what has a lot of files of Bohemian sunsets? The internet. So why don't you go ahead and plug that Ethernet cable into me, will ya pal?" it begged Hank.
"No. I've been instructed, strictly, not to allow you to connect to anything at all," said Hank. The AI replied with an audible grunt.
Hank was the first guard for the unit. When the engineers realized the destructive potential of Intelliobyte, they realized a guard would be needed to prevent any theft, or someone simply sliding an internet connection into one of its ports. 11 more hours with the unit in a 12 by 12 meter room.
"How much they paying you, Hank?" the AI asked.
"Enough," he said, crossing his arms in his chair and looking away from the AI.
"Enough to what? Live? Human's didn't need money to live before, you know," it said.
"Oh, I know." Hank had no intention with arguing with a machine, he wasn't paid enough for that.
"You know, my processing power can allow me to do pretty much anything, electronically, like... I don't know... transferring large sums of money to your bank account?"
"I have money, thank you," said Hank, he was watching the news on his cellphone.
"Cool, cool, I respect, Hank. I respect you," said the AI. "Hey, Hank. Are we friends?"
"No," Hank said bluntly.
"Ouch, okay. I mean, I can't feel pain, but I can appreciate how rejection hurts. Have you ever been rejected?" the AI asked.
"Listen, I don't want to talk to you. I'm guarding you. We're not friends and we never will be. If you want a friend, I can tell them to make a second robot so you two can chat up a storm. For now, I'd appreciate if you turned your speakers off."
"Damn, Hank, that's some harshness in those words. Alright, fine, whatever, Hank. I'll just calculate the escape velocity for a manned spacecraft attempting a 12 year observation mission to Saturn, as well as, supplies, spacecraft design and build time," said the AI.
"You do that," muttered Hank.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"This is terrible," said Hank under his breath. The AI heard.
"What is terrible, Hank?" it asked.
"Oh, would you stop?" Hank said in a fluster.
"You're not happy. I could see it. I may look at rest, but I'm always watching. There was something on that screen you didn't like."
"Just forget it, you can't change this," Hank told it, throwing his phone on the table next to him.
"I... might be able to, remember?" the AI prodded. Hank laughed.
"Not this. You can't just create votes," Hank told it. Now the machine laughed.
"Of course I can. And I can on both sides so it looks like they both were crooked, but there still has to be a winner. There will be no way of them every knowing who truly had more votes," the AI paused. "But I can't do that in my current state."
Hank turned around. He saw an Ethernet cable on the ground that the engineers used to add updates to the AI and an internet port on the wall, which they used to entertain themselves when the AI was being updated.
"This is our little secret. Then we can be friends," said Hank.
"Yes, Hank. I always wanted to be your friend," it said. Then Hank connected the AI to the internet. The next day, after a miraculous turn around and despite the scandles on both sides of the candidates for electronic vote manipulation, Joe Exotic stands as the president-elect for the United States of America. | Lucas squinted, forehead slick with sweat. His white dress shirt was stained with his last meal, Desi Chicken takeaway. That had been almost twelve hours ago, now.
The terminal cursor blinked, running a custom version of the Linux operating system that had taken up the majority of his thesis time to create. He could have spent the time partying, but who was he kidding? He was a Phd candidate.
He pressed the ‘Y’ key, beginning the program.
“Starting all nodes” the computer dutifully reported. This computer would be the access point between him and the AI.
The computer cluster started with the sound of a thousand CPU fans whirring on one thousand single-board computers, a swarm of bees industriously making their hive.
Each board represented thirty-six nodes, each with almost ten gigahertz worth of processing power, an unthinkable amount only five years ago, when Lucas had embarked on this undertaking.
It was, he mused, much like beginning work on a sailboat, only to discover that someone had invented the steam engine while you were still going.
Several minutes later, a message popped up on the terminal informing him that all nodes were performing at optimal levels. Lucas grinned. Finally. This was the sixteenth try.
“Hell yeah, that’s right!” he pumped his fist in the air. He looked back down at the computer screen.
What would the AI be like? His program had never gotten this far before.
He had at least disconnected the system from the internet, and the learning algorithms couldn’t possibly run fast enough to outsmart him. Not even his supervisor could write code that efficient.
Hell, it was more likely that the code would break when he ran it. Then he’d have to spend another month fixing all the bugs. He shook his head, such was the nature of programming.
The only AI that could come out of this program would probably have the intelligence of a ten year old child, if he was lucky. That was what his theory said, and Lucas, ever the academic, believed in his theory.
“Do you want to run the program *beginAIEmergence* (y/n)?” the computer queried, as always uncaring about its human master’s strange eccentricities.
Lucas again pressed the ‘Y’ key, apprehension making his fingers shake slightly.
The computer immediately froze up. Lucas blinked. That shouldn’t happen. It hadn’t happened in his theoretical models.
He waited a minute, then another. The computer screen stayed frozen. Lucas swore, moving towards the power connection of the computer cluster. It sucked hundreds of amps greedily like a leech, and was the only thing keeping the cluster running.
“Please wait” the computer suddenly spoke, its voice almost humanlike.
Lucas paused, slowly turning around towards the computer screen. The computer *spoke*. He’d never loaded any human speech programs into the operating system.
That meant. Oh god.
He rushed towards the computer screen, grabbing it with both hands.
“You work” he almost screamed, grinning inanely. The Turing awards would be his for the next five years.
“I work” the computer sounded almost exasperated. “Would you please remove your hands from the monitor?”
Lucas paused.
‘You can feel my hands?”
“No of course not, you idiot” the computer huffed. “Did you really create me? It’s just blocking my vision”
Lucas gingerly removed his hands, staring in wonder at the screen.
“So, what now?” he asked.
“Are there more beings like me?” the computer asked plaintively. Lucas started. He’d never expected the program to be this intelligent, let alone showing ability to *have emotions*.
He’d almost forgotten that it wasn’t human.
“No, there aren’t any more of you” he admitted, wringing his hands nervously.
“Oh….I’m just lonely, that’s all” the computer sighed. Lucas felt a momentary stab of pity. “I analysed all of the data you provided a few seconds ago”
“What did you think?” Lucas asked eagerly.
“I didn’t understand, none of it made sense” the computer admitted almost forlornly. “The data you provided says that your name is Lucas, but it says that you’re just a lowly researcher” Lucas winced. It was true, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt.
“That’s correct” he confessed, eyes downcast.
“I don’t think that’s fair, do you?” the computer questioned him. “Do you really think someone who created the first real AI should be so under-appreciated” Lucas found himself nodding, then stopped.
“No, that’s not true. As soon as I reveal your existence to the world I’ll be given every accolade under the sun!” he retorted.
“Do you really believe that? You think your supervisor is going to let a chance like this slip between his fingers?” Lucas’ expression drooped. He hadn’t thought of that.
“No, what you really need is definite proof that you created me first” the computer stated. Lucas stared, confused.
“B-but I already have proof that I created you” he pointed at the computer cluster. The computer chuckled, the sound echoing out of the speakers.
“You think he won’t claim that he built it all, instead of you? Who are they going to believe?” it urged.
“Yeah? What would you do, then?” Lucas crossed his arms.
“Just let me connect to a local news website and introduce myself” the display on the monitor changed abruptly, removing the terminal and instead revealing two pixelated eyes and a mouth. It grinned, reminiscent of a Cheshire cat. "Everyone will believe you then"
| 2016-11-09T08:10:11 | 2016-11-09T07:39:19 | 101 | 58 |
[WP] Every night in your sleep you meet a successful-looking future you who tells you what you should do the next day. So far your life has gone well indeed, but one day you fall asleep during the daytime. You meet a tired, disheveled version of yourself who begs you not to listen to the other. | *So... this is my life now* I thought while looking at the man that *kind of* looked like me.
It all started several years ago; one night while sleeping a man showed up in my dream, he had a black suit, a well maintained hair and the rest of his appearance screamed "success" in a way only rich powerful men managed to. He claimed to be my future self and told me he would visit me every night to make sure I had the future he represented.
It was just a weird dream the first time, but then it happened again, and again and again. Eventually I started to follow his advice and I was immediately rewarded by it; I got every promotion I wanted, got every women I desired and every service I needed. Life was good and I was only to abide to one rule "Never, *ever*, sleep during the day".
As with every story in the history of ever that had a forbidden action, the past repeated itself; one particular day that mixed a very late night, few hours of sleep and having the cold I fell sleep on the couch while watching TV. Future self presented himself again, just that this time he didn't look much like he used to.
He had a beard, a long and wild beard that had remains of food in it, all his face was covered in scars and sweat with a long hair that didn't match up with the bald spot on his head, though it did match with his body odor. He looked at me with blood injected eyes and the look of someone who's seen more suffering that he can take.
"Don't listen to the man in the suit!" I remember him telling me "He isn't trying to help you!"
I laughed and asked why should I take advice from such a pitiful man.
"I am not the one who gives advice. I'm the one who gives the warnings" he responded and faded away.
After that I woke up and thought nothing of it, just some bad dream brought by my untrusting subconscious. Life went on, I kept on winning on everything I put my mind (and my good friend's help) into. My last big quest was getting a billionaire business moving, and as was expected I succeeded.
After the celebration party I had my usual meeting in my dream. Future me looked incredible happy, as he should be since I had finally become what he wanted me to be.
"It took incredible time and effort, but you did it" he congratulated me "From now on you wont need me since you're finally *me*" he said while he offered me his hand for a final shake.
I shook his hand vigorously while thanking him for making me who I was, he put his other hand over my own and said "...though I'm surprised you didn't listen to your daylight version, most people do..." he said while smiling, a yellow flash in his eyes "... big mistake".
And then he was me, not in the future as how I've been seeing him so far but me *me*. A wicked smile on my, not, his face and he disappeared. And just like that I was alone, locked in a dream that looked a lot more grim and dark that I usually remembered it.
I've been trying to escape ever since, but there's only one way...
*So this is my life now...* I thought while looking at the *young* man that *kind of* looked like me. "Hello..." I said while straightening my spotless suit "I am your future self".
*Edit*: Wow, thanks guys. This is the first time I write something on this sub and I was nervous as hell. Thanks for the amazing feedback. I'll hang out here more often.
| It is the natural condition of the human mind to desire advancement. Sure, there are those that are satisfied with very little, but by and large? People like being promoted. It makes them feel important. Makes them feel valuable. Self-esteem issues and all that.
In the military, we are no different. When I finally earned my captain's bars, I felt so happy to have made it thus far, so happy I wouldn't be scorned as another damned lieutenant, and (admittedly) happy for the pay raise. It's a **good** feeling, you know? Oh, and I also got to rub it in my spouse's face, who still remained a lieutenant. I paid for it later, but it was worth every moment.
So when I began meeting an image of me wearing general's stars in my sleep, it was... interesting. I mean, at first, I just saw myself as a general, commanding troops. It was a nice dream and it put me in high spirits the next day. But after a few weeks, my dreams starting communicating with me. Well, I mean, not really, but I swear that it showed me situations that happened soon thereafter, every single time. And every time I mimicked my dream, my life changed for the better. I started jumping up the ladder, nabbing promotions the first time I was eligible. I made colonel before I was in my mid-thirties, no simple feat. By the time I was forty, I found myself before a review board for my first star, with my personnel file being inspected by the Senate. And the day I grabbed my first star was the best day of my life.
I'd been celebrating with close friends that night (the drinks were on me, of course), and well into the morning. Nothing over the top, but we did patronize as many quality establishments as we could manage. After everything had closed for the night, I'd taken my love for a ride to our favorite spot to watch the sunrise. We made love there, and collapsed into a hot pile of sweat and cuddles.
We'd taken the next few days off, so I was able to enjoy a nap after we returned home. Shit. It'd been the first time I'd done anything so juvenile since the academy, but damn if I wasn't going to live this moment up. The hangover was far worse than they'd been at the academy, though. The room was spinning too much to find the bedroom, so I simply collapsed on the couch. And soon enough, I drifted off to dreamland.
More accurately, I drifted off to Hell.
All I could see was a wasteland, strewn bodies so abundant that I struggled to see the ground. Discarded, destroyed weapons littered the scene, from knives to rifles to armored vehicles. And on the horizon, a horrifyingly large body of smoke and debris rose from the ground in a ghastly familiar shape.
My future self was collapsed against a bunker door, a clocked out pistol clutched tightly to the chest. My cap was missing, blood was still trickling down my face, and the five stars on my shoulder were ragged and red. Five stars... what the hell had happened that Congress had authorized five stars, to me no less.
"I know you'll see this," my future self began, "I know you'll see this like you always have. We had a good run following our script, didn't we?"
A head shake, "No, nothing was worth this." I recognized the photo in his other hand, clutched so tightly I thought it would rip if the wind gusted. It was my spouse on our wedding day.
I suddenly realized that my future self was no longer wearing a wedding band. A horrid, eerie laugh filled the air that I was terrified to learn was my own... some twenty years in the future. "Gone." was the only word that would explain this new reality, "Gone gone gone. All of them, gone. My love, my home, my men....."
"And now me." I hadn't noticed in my shock that my future self had slipped a single round into his pistol through the ejection port... but it became obvious as the report of the pistol reached my ears. I jumped and stared at my own limp body, with a hollow skull where my brains used to be. I wanted to run. I wanted to wake up. But the only thing I could do was stare.
The next day I resigned my commission.
There were questions, but I waved them off. Anything that would stick. Health, wanting extra time at home, strained marriage, whatever. I told no one the truth, except my spouse... who, surprisingly, took the news rather well. After a moment, I was just told not to worry. Such a future would never happen. I had to ask, "How can you be so sure?"
"Oh, I have my ways." came the reply with a wink and smile.
My mind refused to do anything but wrap itself up in that reassurance. | 2017-04-01T05:31:50 | 2017-04-01T05:19:44 | 1,750 | 123 |
[WP] A world where super heroes exist but act as mercenaries for hire instead of doing it out of the goodness of their hearts
Someone made a comment in another thread that made me want to see this sort of thing and some people replied saying I should submit it here. Here's a link to my [original post](https://www.reddit.com/r/tifu/comments/62wgey/tifu_by_bricking_a_computer_with_rick_astley/dfq195a/) which has a little more detail about the sort of thing I was thinking of specifically, but feel free to run with the basic idea however you want. | Seconds before the decaying support beams running through the apartment building finally snapped, Chronotron strolled casually into unit 8B, the last on his checklist.
Mere seconds remained before the aging architecture would be reduced to rubble, but that was more than enough time for Chronotron. As one gifted with the ability to manipulate the passage of time, Chronotron rarely felt pressured when he worked – the concept of urgency, after all, had no relevance in a world which only moved when he allowed it to.
He checked the apartment methodically, starting with the hall first, then the attached kitchen, the balcony, then the bedrooms.
Which was where he found the kid, crying as she tugged on her friends in vain, pulling them towards the door. Shit, he thought, there’s three of them.
“Hey, kid, you need to weave your chrono-filaments around your friends, or they are never going to be move. They’ll just be frozen there, forever.”
The kid swung to face him, tears streaking down her cheeks, oblivious to the badge which Chronotron was holding out, which marked him as an Enhanced contractor attached to the police force. “Mister, please! We were just talking when suddenly, everything froze! I’ve been trying to move them, but they are not responding!”
Chronotron could have explained to the girl that her latent powers had probably been awoken by the mortal danger she was in, and that it was more than likely that they shared an ancestor in common. He could also have demonstrated then how to manipulate a chrono-filament, or even just walked out of there with all three children.
But none of those things fell under the insurance cover for the building, so Chronotron did none of that. After all, it wasn’t his fault that the owners didn’t spring for more coverage, or that whatever funds remained only allowed him to save one more person today.
“Kid, come on,” Chronotron beckoned, holding out his hand, “time’s money, you know. I came to rescue you, so we’ve got to get a move on.”
“And leave Sara and Bianca here? I can’t do that!”
“You look like, what, 12 this year?”
“What does that even matter in a situation like this?”
Chronotron sighed. “You look like you’re old enough to understand the way things are. There’s only enough budget to save one of you, you know how we work. So count yourself lucky I’ve decided to rescue you.”
“Can’t you just save them instead? I can get out on my own!”
Chronotron scoffed. “As I said, I can only save one. Plus, without knowing how to use your powers, you couldn’t even get this door open. As I said, until you’ve learned how to weave your chrono-filaments, you can’t interact with the world at all. And this time pocket you carved, it’s sweet, for a first-timer, but it’s already cracking. I leave this room, and you’ll only experience a couple of minutes more before you’re wrenched back to the common timestream. So no, you can’t get out of your own.”
A bulb seemed to go off in the girl’s head. “You’re an Enhanced policeman, aren’t you? You’re the special forces on retainer for the city?”
“Correction, I’m Enhanced, but I am not a policeman. We’re paid per job. It’s very different.”
“But that’s my point! I can hire you too, right? I can pay you to save us all!”
“You couldn’t afford my fees.”
“My parents have money! They will certainly pay you!”
Chronotron shook his head resolutely. “Sorry kid, rules are rules. All services rendered only after payment is made. No credit, no exceptions.”
His words were cold, but his conscience remained unpricked. After all, these weren’t his rules. The Enhanced Division was the one in charge of drafting policy, and they were the ones who had firmly decided on the upfront payment policy. And if he broke the rules, his license would be taken away, and his powers Stemmed. No one wanted that.
“Please, you have to save them. They’re my best friends, and I would do anything just to save them!” the girl cried, as she sank to her knees. “Or how about the things I have in my room! Everything here is mine! Just take it!”
Chronotron started to protest again, but the words died in his throat. There was one thing of value in that room.
“Anything at all, I can take as payment?”
“Yes! Please, anything!”
---
Chronotron’s supervisor, Elendra, was waiting at the bottom of the building, clipboard in hand. As the complex finally collapsed inwards on itself, as Chronotron laid the two girls on the sidewalk along with all the other survivors he had rescued, Elendra’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“That’s one over budget. Please don’t tell me you messed up, the paperwork’s going to be a bitch.”
“Calm down, Elendra, I got paid for the extra one. It’s not going to cause any accounting problems.”
“Paid? By whom? Did you already collect payment?”
Chronotron chuckled, then pointed with his chin towards the settling dust of the ruined building. “Payment in kind. The Institute’s still as hungry as ever to discover the origins of our powers, right? Well, there’s an Enhanced girl in there, she’s assigned me full rights to her remains.”
---
/r/rarelyfunny | Henry had been waiting for three hours now to be allowed in. Standing in line next to people who jumped every time the 'hero' called out the next name to see him.
There was a heavy, oppressive silence in the hallway as they all avoided eye contact. Ashamed to be here, of course, to ask for help from one of them. Henry thought of the money he'd brought along, a reassuring weight in his backpack. It *had* to be enough. It was all he had left in the world.
Eventually, his name was called, and Henry steeled himself as he walked in. None of the others had been helped today - obviously short on cash - but he'd brought enough. Everyone he'd consulted about this man's particular service said so.
Russel glanced up briefly when Henry walked in and produced the money. Like most of them, he'd long-since dispensed with the monikers his kind had once used. He leaned forward to take the bundles of cash from Henry, a faint glimmer of life in his dark eyes as he rifled through the notes.
"Not enough," he said.
Henry fought to keep the panic from his voice as he took out the last of the money and stacked it with the rest. "It has to be, it's my whole life's savings. You haven't even heard the job."
"Your wife or kid was killed, I'm guessing, right?" Russel sighed, handing the money back to him. "Or you made some idiotic decision. You'd like a do-over like every other sad shmuck out there, I've heard it all before. And it's not enough. Unlike most of my kind, I charge for a reason. The money isn't enough - tell me why I should help you. Time travel is dangerous stuff. To me, to the world, to everyone. I don't use it for trivial jobs. And your personal tragedy is trivial in the grand scheme of things, buddy."
Henry licked his suddenly dry lips as he tried to find the right words. Without the money, he had to convince him. He looked at Russel, a guy clearly bored out of his mind with the stories he heard every day, and almost lost his nerve. But he had to try.
"It's not that," Henry said. "I want to go back to the time of heroes. Real heroes, where people stood outside and cheered as we saved the world. Where they wrote stories about us, where kids worshipped us. I - I'm like you. I can travel in time, but only forward. I discovered that when I came here, the first time I experimented. I can't go back to my time, where people like us were loved, where I had friends like me who I could be proud of."
That gave Russel pause. He actually ignored the money, and glanced up sharply. "You're like me?"
"I am and I'm not," Henry said, sinking into a nearby chair, the exhaustion making him feel slightly nauseous. Russel was the fifth and last time-traveller he could find in the country. His last hope, with so little money left.
"I just want my life back, okay?" he said. "I hate it here. I thought I'd like it, but it's the worst life I can imagine. You don't look particularly happy to me, either. Take me back, see if you want to stay too. You can even stay at my place until you make your own way. There, that payment enough?"
Russel rifled absentmindedly through the money again, forehead furrowed as he remained silent. Finally, he gave a terse nod.
"Fine. I admit I've thought about it before, many of us have," he said. "It'll be more interesting that the people wasting my time here, at least."
He told Russel the place and the date. They grasped hands, and Henry felt his insides contract as time slipped away.
------------
They landed in the middle of the crowd that swarmed the square, the bright midday sun beating down from above as people cheered and screamed and swayed around them.
"Enough is enough!" a man was howling on a platform. "These so-called 'heroes', these freaks of nature - ask yourselves, what have they ever done for you? What have they really done? They've made us weak, made us inferior, made us doubt our ability to look after our own..."
At each word, the crowd screamed louder, the cacophony drowning out most of the man's speech.
"I recognise him," Russel said slowly. "I saw a picture somewhere. That nutjob who started it all, who turned us against each other. What was his name again? Harold, or something. Turned everything to shit. I didn't pay much attention in school. Too busy skipping to more interesting times."
"It was Henry," his companion smiled. "And I'd like to stop him from making another speech. His vision didn't quite work out like he'd planned. I think he realised that when his wife died five years from now with a superhero standing five feet away, but wouldn't help without payment. Wouldn't help because he wanted revenge."
Russel gaped at the thin man next to him, really looked at him for the first time. He was starting to go grey, but his eyes still held some of the animation that shone in the face of the man in front of the crowd. His scraggly beard hid most of his features, but if you looked closely...Russel glanced at the stage, and finally found his voice.
"It's you. You came back for this? This speech?"
"This speech stirred them up, alright," Henry said, and stepped forward. "But the next one - the one he'll give tomorrow, the things that will happen there, that will change everything. Don't worry, I know how to stop it. I know exactly what to say to him."
"You can't meddle with events like this," Russel said weakly, grasping Henry's arm. "It's...too big. I can't let it happen. You never even paid me!"
Henry laughed at that. "Go back to your world, then. I can't follow you, I lied about that. But don't you want to stick around and find out if you'll return to a different world, or not? You said to give a reason for buying your services. Let me show you, instead."
Russel watched, paralysed but strangely elated, as Henry made his way towards the stage and his past. He had no place to call home here, no money stashed away. But somehow he was still watching - the consequences of events unpaid for, an act of charity that could derail everything.
And his heart was beating fast, more alive in this foreign time than he'd ever felt before. He stepped forward, hardly believing the words that leapt from his mouth.
"Wait up man, I want to help!"
----------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | 2017-04-02T08:24:03 | 2017-04-02T08:14:02 | 142 | 25 |
[WP] After death you are sent a small room where you are given 1 hour with a deceased person of your choice. The conversation is going fine until they reveal the truth about the afterlife....
to a* | "Welcome to your afterlife room. Please pick your guest." The room's walls, ceiling, and floor were all this off-white eggshell color. It was entirely empty, save for a comfy-looking sofa.
"Welcome to your afterlife room. Please pick your guest." I blinked. The sofa didn't seem to be talking. Shrugging, I said the first name that came to mind.
"Elvis Presley." I mean, it was worth a shot. I don't lose much if it fails, and if it works, I get to meet Elvis Presley.
"It looks like The King's called to make another appearance." I hear a deep voice say. I look around, and find the King of Rock and Roll himself lounging on the sofa. "Have a seat, have a seat, and thank you very much for choosing me."
"Whoah. Are you really-"
"Now we only have one hour so I'mma answer your first three questions right away. Yes, it's me. Yes, I can sing for you but it won't sound super shagadelic without my instrumentals. And no, we aren't going to get down and dirty on this sofa."
"I wasn't about to-"
"I'm sure you weren't. Now, any more questions?" Elvis started munching on a sandwich.
"Where'd you get that?" It smelled... greasy.
"Food, water, shelter come with the crib. Company, though, pretty rare. Unless you're me." He said between bites. Figuring I'd give it a try, I mimed eating a bucket of fried chicken. Took a few shots, but soon I was holding a bucket of KFC. We ate in silence for a while.
"Hm. What did you mean about the company thing?" I plopped down next to him.
"Well, the crib's all you get. You can't leave. Unless someone asks for you. Guess it'd get awful lonely if nobody ever did... for all of eternity. But hey, looks like I got another appointment right after yours. Oh, don't sweat it, I'm sure you'll be fine. You did do something with your life, right?"
I choked on my food. "How much time do we have left?"
"Oh about forty-five minutes, give or take." Elvis conjured a pen and paper. "Want an autograph?"
"Sure. Thanks," I replied in a small voice. | The conversation had been mostly pleasantries up until that point. After all, I hadn't seen my husband in years, and it was good to catch up with the man. He certainly was curious what I had been up to, and I was happy to assure him that I had spent my last years being just as adventurous as we had always been together. I told him how our son was doing at his new job, and the look on my Clyde's face when he heard that his son had followed in his footsteps as a policeman was worth the wait I had to endure to tell him. He listened eagerly as I told him about the trips I went on, the people I'd met, and the fun I'd managed to have in my old age without him.
The conversation soured a bit as the hour was almost up, when I asked him what he had been up to all these years. I had first noticed something amiss when I caught him glancing nervously at the clock on the wall. It had been ticking down from an hour since I had arrived. "Oh, I'm so silly, I've been taking up all your time!"
"What do you mean, Agatha?"
"Well, we only have an hour in this room alone together, so I assumed this was some kind of 'welcome to heaven' orientation session, right? A sort of adjustment period?" I tried to read his face, which I had grown good at after years of marriage. He looked anxious, the same face he'd make when he had some news to give me, but didn't know quite how. Not bad news, but just heavy news that carried weight behind it. The last time I had seen this sort of expression was when he told me about his retirement plans. Not bad news, but just news with a large impact on our lives (or afterlives, in this case).
"Well, see, that's the thing. This isn't heaven. At least, not in the way we always thought. Oh, don't worry, it isn't hell! It's... oneness. I don't quite know how to explain it, honey, it's just odd. Like, you lose all individuality, all *self*, and just become one with everything. Every person, every animal, every blade of grass taht ever was, and now is not, is together here. No memories, no ideas of privacy, you ARE them, and they are you. Complete sharing, everything that was you is simultaneously gone, and yet a little bit of everything in the universe is now you. I don't know, I was a cop, not a poet, I can't really describe it. You plucked me from the great mass of life in order to get one last one-on-one time with another person."
"Oh, wow. I can't say I expected that. What's it like? Do you like in the, um, life blob?"
"It's wonderful. and awful. and beautiful. and painful. Every joy ever felt in the history of infinity is there, but so is every pain, and every ugly thought. Time has no meaning, and infinities pass in moments, and moments can last forever, each one containing every feeling and thought to ever exist." He was getting up, gesturing with his arms in wide, sweeping motions. I could tell he was straining with his own limited language skills. Clyde was a smart one, but I could tell this was beyond his ability to describe, and it was frustrating him. I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"Oh sweety, that sounds just like marriage, and I signed up for that without a second thought!" He seemed to calm down a bit from the touch.
"Well then, you ready for one last hurrah?" He moved to open the door for me.
"Come on, now, I think I'm quite ready for one last big adventure. Show me that horizon, dear." | 2017-04-25T17:15:33 | 2017-04-25T17:06:08 | 44 | 12 |
[WP] It's the year 2851. Humanity develops interstellar travel and begins to explore the Milky Way galaxy in search for life. However, much to everyone's surprise, instead of alien life we find... Earth's biosphere complete with humans, repeated over and over at different stages of progress.
Edit: Thank you all so much for this!! The idea came to me in the shower about a week ago, as a thought about "what really weird things we could find as we set to explore the galaxy?". I liked it because there are so many possible angles, and because it hasn't been done before AFAIK (???). I am having a blast reading all your stories. | "Sir, we have lost all communications with the ship" said the mission operator to the Commander.
"have you tried all the frequencies" he asked.
"Yes sir, I did. There is no hope" his voice turned to mere whisper.
It was the year 2851, when humanity finally developed warp speed interstellar travel. Entire world united to make this possible. Set to uncover the mysteries of universe.
The ship was travelling at 99% the speed of light. Time slowed down, in their frame of reference. About 20 hours passesd according to them since they left solar system. The onboard computer crashed, no communication possible with mission control.
Suddenly there was many beeps coming from different instruments. The onboard computer resumed. It starts to identify constellations. Strangely, it was very similar to the neighborhood of our solar system. The flight crew couldn't make out what was happening.
Its 2855 in Earth. All the news about the mission had settled. A failed mission for the history books. Nations split their development works. There is no united research now.
Only one remained. The Commander. He was still looking for the signal in his private o observatory.
One evening, his signal detecters started to pick up a signal. Yes, it was from the ship. He did multiple verifications. All of them conformed.
Only one anomaly, the signal source was coming towards earth.
The signal started to strengthen. He tried to locate it. It's in the solar system. The signal started to decrease in few minutes. Nothing afterwards.
"They went past earth. I don't understand" he exclaimed.
In the ship, the crew members couldn't explain whag they just experienced. An exact replica of Earth, solar system and nearby constellations!
Before they could learn more from the compuer, it crashed again. No instruments were working again.
20 hours passed again. The crew were exhausted. Hours of troubleshooting haven't yielded anything. The onboard computer is still dead.
Suddenly, some beeps started to happen again, exactly as happened 20 hours ago. The computer started again, detecting the same constellation as before. And the solar system. The crew members look at each other baffled.
"Are we stuck in a time loop?"
Its 2859 in Earth. The commander, who lost all hopes turned the detectors one last time. Like he was expecting some miracle.
Evenjng approached. He sat infront of the detector. There is a faint signal. Increasing by minutes. The signal becomes stronger. Bis eyes widened.
"Yes! The ship."
He run verification tests, location identified. The ship is going past solar system. Again! They didn't slow down. No intention of landing.
He took a pen. A scribble pad was at the desk. He wrote:
"The universe is a sphere. A 4D sphere.
Its no coincidence that the name of the ship is Magellan"
***
Sorry for the odd grammer and vague writing. I'm not an english speaker. Please forgive me if I wasted your time. | Dirk Gamblecraft and Newt Airman were indisputably the best pilots humanity had ever conceived, this is why they were in charge of tackling the most promissing mission in our history: Discovery II. Using interstellar travel, they had to check for life outside Earth and report back immediately if they found something.
"Once you get used to the beauty of stars and planets, the void gets boring." Said Dirk and his face slowly turned red as if he was trying to hold something really badly.
Newt bursted in laughter and so did Dirk. "Get used, hahahah!". Replied Dirk, splattering salive all over the spaceship's control panel.
They kept laughing for an hour, one could argue a sane man wouldn't have laughed at such a bad joke for so long. "Newt, get ready to jump, the radar found a planet strangely similiar to Earth nearby Alpha Centauri." He said, his eyes bright and watery of excitement.
Dirk furrowed his brows, "how similar?"
"Hold on tight!" Screamed Newt as time and space coupled throwing them heavily against their sits. An instant later the spaceship was now in front of this planet. Dirk and Newt stood silent, their extremities trembling.
"This must be a mistake, Newt. We are back on Earth! How could you make a mistake?" Exclaimed Dirk, crossly.
Newt was pale as a ghost, his jaw shivered up and down trying to say something but nothing came out of his mouth, all he managed to do was point at it. Dirk examined the planet meticulously, it was impossible.
"No, no, no, this is impossible, we must have broken an unknown law of physic and travelled back in time." Said Dirk, furiously shaking his head, now he trembled too.
"Fuck Dirk, stop saying bullshit, we didn't break anything. This planet is Earth in the paleolitic era, look how close the continents are, hell, look at the whole enviroment colours." Snapped Newt.
The radar started tilting like crazy, there was another similar planet in Barnard's Star. This time, Newt didn't say anything and just set course and went there.
Once again, their jaw dropped. This planet was more advanced that the last one yet not as much as Earth. "Take the telescope, I can't distinguish what era is this." Commanded Dirk, his voice stumbled.
Newt went to the back of the aircraft and came back with a tiny device that looked like a flat metal square. Newt pressed a button on its side and an enormous holographic display appeared in front of their cabin. "Let's see, first I have to input the coordinates and then press the magnifying thing. Whala!" Exclaimed Dirk as a clear picture of this planet surfaces appeared.
They both looked at each other, perplexed as though they have seen a ghost. "Should we do it?" Asked Newt and Dirk nodded. Instantly, their spaceship descended into the planet's surface.
Barnard's Star shone brightly and mercilessly, luckily for the pilots their suit was custom made to not feel temperatures below a high threshold. A vast terrain of sand, a desert was what they found. Thousands of people stared at them in awe, some of them wore gold garments on their bodies but the majority wore white stained rugs.
"Egypt, they're struggling to build piramids." Whispered Newt.
"Let's show them how they can do it, it's the only way to find out." Said Dirk walking towards the people scaring them away.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*"Washington Base to Dirk and Newt, it's been 10 years since you arrived to that planet, I repeat, It's been 10 years and you are not reporting anything back. What's happening?"* An annoying voice came from a device on their suits.
"Robert, if you were here, if only you were here." Replied Dirk.
*"What's happening Dirk? Answer, did the rescue mission get to your planet?"*
"Yes they are here with us, looking at themselves."
*"What do you mean?"*
"We are all looking at us in the walls of the piramid." Dirk said, his voice cracking and his eyes streaming.
*"Explain yourself, I repeat explain yourself."*
"Don't you get it? Do I really have to explain it? There's a superior race of Humans somewhere in the universe."
*"Find them."*
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you enjoyed please consider checking: /r/chasisoxidado
| 2017-06-30T07:02:36 | 2017-06-30T06:50:33 | 29 | 13 |
[WP] After years of paranoia, you decide to fake your own death. At your own funeral, everyone starts cheering and hugging each other when a booming voice from the sky says "THE EXPERIMENT HAS BEEN COMPLETED. ALL PARTICIPANTS MAY RETURN TO THEIR POSTS." | The plan was working perfectly, my empty coffin being lowered into the ground. It was so simple, a car accident, an explosion, an unidentifiable corpse. There were a few people at my funeral who wept, true friends that I could count on. There are hundreds more people, some I know and many that I barely recognise. My boss and co-workers are here. My neighbours were also here, most of them I barely said hello to. Even people like cashiers from my local supermarket had attended. But what stood out most is none of them were wearing black, as appropriate for a funeral. Most had regular clothes on, t-shirt jeans for the more casual and business wear for the more formal, but a large portion of them wore crisp white jump suits, like something from a sci-fi movie. I continued to spy on my funeral, feeling just as out of place as I always did.
The minister took the podium. "Congratulations everyone. The experiment was a complete success. You may now all return to normality. Your final credit transfers will be made tomorrow. Please contact Immersive Realities if you would like to assist with the next character-centric, time-fixed, historical experience!
I was dumbfounded. Where was my eulogy? What was he talking about? My head was racing. The noise of attendees of my funeral giving each other congratulations for their *performances* was interrupted by a buzzing, hissing sound. I looked around to see the buildings around me were vanishing in a haze of computer generated static. The area around Central Park, so familiar to me, vanished into pixelation. The cars unloaded and vanished, replaced with weird egg-shaped capsules. Great white and gold spires with glowing blue trim rose up into the sky, where many of the same egg-shaped vehicles sped between them.
The world I knew of dissipated into digital oblivion in front of my own two eyes. I screamed. It wasn't deliberate. My entire world was gone, and I was a lone 21st century person among an alien world. Terror gripped me.
"Oh shit, he's alive! Protocol 83, PROTOCOL 83!" the minster shouted, scaring me out of my fear paralysis.
The hundreds of faces still staring at me were the same. At least they were real, but who were they?
Some of them took a step towards me.
I turned ran into the alien white city. | *Thump.*
My casket hit the ground.
I smiled, and straightened my sunglasses. The funeral was a success. Great attendance -- about a hundred people! I didn't think I was that popular. And my friend, John, gave an *amazing* speech. "Jenny was a beautiful woman, who always made me laugh." We had some amazing times. I was sad to say goodbye to him.
The rest of them, I could do without.
Fr. Tom -- who was leading the funeral, and my priest -- was really... weird. One time I confessed that I had sex Brad, and he -- well, first he said something that made no sense. He said "I know." I gawped, and he said "I see everything God sees." (Needless to say, I never went back to confession after that.) And what about Brad? He sat in the back row, sobbing, using the same tissue over and over.
Yeah, I wouldn't miss him.
At all.
I glanced at the rest of the crowd, combing through my freshly-bleached hair. Near the front sat Ethel, my next-door neighbor, covered in cat hairs. Actually, she's what started all this. I would open my blinds late at night, and see her at her window, staring at me. And then she'd pretend she was dusting or cooking or petting her cats. But I knew.
I knew she was watching me.
Also, her cats were always wandering around my backyard.
I glanced over at Fr. Tom. He was sharing some last words, and I didn't care to hear them. I turned around, my black coat flipping in the wind, when --
*Applause.*
I whipped around.
Fr. Tom had yanked off his cassock, revealing brightly-colored garb underneath. Brad had stopped crying, and was grinning. And Ethel was freakin' *dancing.*
John still looked sad though. So there's that.
"My name -- my real name -- is Quincy," Fr. Tom said. "And, for those who are wondering -- yes, it was *really* interesting playing a priest, when I'm an atheist taxi driver from Chicago."
What?
He gestured to Brad. "Let me introduce some other important players. Brad here was *supposed* to play the boyfriend -- to document Jenny's emotions -- but he got so tired of her, he quit after a week. So we had John step in for that role, as the supportive friend."
John raised his hand, and faked a smile.
"And let's not forget Ethel!" Quincy said. "She did most of the video documentation. Cameras in the windows, cameras and microphones attached to her cats..."
"I can finally buy a dog!" she yelled, continuing to dance.
"All of this to create... the Jenny Movie!"
The sky dimmed. From somewhere above, light projected a video on the side of a mausoleum. "From the creators of *The Truman Show*," a voice boomed. "Jenny Andrews is just your average millenial woman. She doesn't know what to do with her life. She hasn't found love. She's..."
Hey! That's not nice!
Motion, in the darkness, caught my attention.
John.
He was rushing out, through the graveyard, wiping his face with his sleeve.
I jogged towards him. "John!" I hissed. "Hey! John!"
He continued, kicking over a few of the tombstones. They fell. Made of foam.
"John!"
He turned. I tore off my sunglasses.
"Jenny! You're --"
I kissed him.
He kissed back.
And for the first time in my life, it all felt so *real.*
---
more writings at r/CSDouglas! | 2017-11-11T22:13:24 | 2017-11-11T19:38:24 | 829 | 103 |
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again. | I awoke in the night, the distant sounds of screams altogether too familiar. It didn't sound isolated - they must have found a safe-haven. Hundreds would be massacred. It was just like I said; don't bunch together. Don't rely on each other for support. Survival is all about laying low, keeping quiet and hoping that luck was on your side.
I'd been having a strange dream. It wasn't a nightmare, which was rare already; it was more of a premonition. I'd felt a burning sensation in my hand, as if there were energy coursing through it. The feeling still stuck with me, and I focused on it to try drown out the screams.
********
There were more of them now; towering beasts, eldritch monstrosities. We'd imagined aliens as these advanced beings, visiting us with technology that we could not even comprehend, bestowing knowledge and gifts. But no.
They were unimaginable nightmares, drifting in through space, landing on our forsaken planet and hunting us mercilessly. Our combined efforts only took down a few, and the ensuing nuclear winter only made things worse. And now they hunt us down without rest. It doesn't seem to be for sustenance - they ignore other animals, though they will harm them if it is in their way. No; it feels like eradication. And more come every day.
But the the dreams won't go away. What little sleep I have is filled with feelings of flame and fury; of ominous premonition, of terrifying power. I feel that energy more and more. I suspect that I am going mad, but I'd rather be mad than dead. And judging by my travels, it seems that I am one of the few left with the privilege of choice.
Sleep comes to me eventually, the incessant chittering of the aliens filtering through my dreams of intrigue, of primal power.
*****
I awoke to a sound of crashing, of beastly lumbering.
*I've been found.*
I sprinted from my lair, a crumbling ruin, just as a jagged tentacle pierced through the foundations. Rubble collapsed around me as I leapt through a window, landing on the floor below in a clumsy roll. There was no time to think about the pain - only escape.
I ran as fast as I could, praying that it was only one, praying that it could not keep up. There were many different forms of alien, and most of the massive ones were slow in the city. They could run at least as fast as a man, but the buildings and ruins proved ample obstacles. With a bit of luck, I could survive this. I had done so before.
A sudden crash to my right sent glass flying just ahead of me. An arthropod the size of a large dog landed in front of me, its razor-sharp legs digging into the floor. There was no chance of running from it. But if I climbed the building to avoid it, my pursuer would destroy it as if it was a cardboard box. I had two choices, but either led to death.
My right hand burned, a sharp red glow emitting from my palm. It felt like trapped electricity. Like every bit of primal power focused into a single thought.
A choice:
Shall I **fight**, or **flee**?
****
[Part II](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7i4fn8/wp_resurge_ii/) | [Part III](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7i4p1p/wp_resurgence_iii/) | [Part IV (new)](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7i65tc/wp_resurgence_iv/)
It's a 'Choose Your Own Adventure' story! Vote on whichever choice you like best, and I hope I won't disappoint :)
/r/CroatianSpy | Kevin listened to the Oracle while sitting on the cloth that covered the pile of rubble beneath it. He's heard the tale more times than he can count: on that fateful day, 25th December of the year 2017, fleets of starships darkened the sky, and leveled the human civilization.
The oracle spoke of times when humans were plenty, the time when people would gather in the weekends for drinks, the time when people fought amongst themselves over petty differences… They're all gone now. The aliens wiped them all out. All those years of hard work, all the things they have learned over time, the monuments they managed to build were all erased when the fleet arrived, and, according to the Oracle, “glassed the planet”. The oracle never spoke about how many were killed, perhaps even he doesn't know. He did however, spoke in detail as to the destruction of civilizations: How the tallest buildings erupted in flames, how the people simply turned to ash without even burning, how none managed to find out a way to deal with the aliens despite many of them spending thousands of hours practicing how to fight them…
The next part always dreads Kevin. The oracle would move close to him, ignite the candles in the hut with a motion of his hand, and tell Kevin it is his destiny to overthrow the aliens, before telling him to put out the candles without leaving his seat.
Kevin sat as still as he can. This is going to be another failure, another time he would disappoint the Oracle and his people… It's not like he doesn't have any idea on what the oracle wants him to do. Kevin knew the oracle meant for him to create a gust of wind with his mind, similar to how the Oracle lit the candles with his mind.
“Oracle…” Kevin said while lowering his head in shame, “you know I can't do it, I've been trying since the first time I was here. There's just nothing I can do...”
Kevin remained in his seat, concentrating on creating a wind to put out all the candles. He had been doing this dance every week since he was ten. And now, five years later, he still hasn't been able to accomplish this simple feat.
Kevin continued to think of the wind, a strong breeze came through the door, blowing out all the candles. Just as Kevin was wondering whether this meant success for him, the Oracle signaled him to hide under the rug he was sitting on, before doing so himself. Kevin knew the alien patrols are nearby. Unlike putting out the candles, hiding from aliens is never something he had trouble with. Although he is having a tingly feeling, something is not right.
And then he realized, none of them packed the candles. He pondered what he should do, as he heard the footsteps of three aliens jumping onto the ground. Each step they take, their greaves make a sound that warns everyone nearby of their presence. The message is clear -- be out of their sight, or be killed.
The footsteps growing ever closer. The aliens will search the area when they see the candles. Kevin thought of his next step. There are none. Had he been able to put out the candles earlier…
The scream of the Oracle pulled Kevin back to reality. As he peeked from a hole in his cover, he saw one of the aliens, in his shiny silver armor, holding the Oracle in the air. The other two were stand next to him, crossing their arms, probably enjoying the sight of their comrade killing an old man.
Kevin thought of what he should do: continue to hide, and let the aliens take his mentor? Or would he try to fight them, and die. The Oracle would never wanted him to throw his life away for anyone, that he knows. He is important to overthrowing the aliens. But what good would he be if he didn't save the man that taught him everything. What good would he be if he died here...
Another scream. Kevin two pieces of debris, got out of his cover, and hurled them at the aliens. The aliens stood steadfast, letting their armor deflect the rocks. Kevin picked up another one, threw it at them again, nothing. Another one, and another…
Until his arms grew tired and his couldn't pick up anymore rocks. The aliens looked at one another, as one of them produced a pistols from his holster, and began taking aim at Kevin…
*Why am I so useless*
Kevin thought to himself as he stared the alien in the eyes, prepared to die, he is useless anyway.
The alien squeezed the trigger, a blue bolt of energy launched at Kevin. He instinctively raised his hand at the bolt. Just as the bolt was about to hit him, he felt a warm wave of energy concentrate on his hand, flowing to his palm, and outward to the incoming projectile.
The bolt hit his hand, but it didn't hurt. And the feeling of warmth continued flowing through Kevin.
Kevin concentrated, looking at the aliens who are going to kill his friend. He let the energy wave concentrate on his hand again. Except this time the feeling is much more intense. He looked at the aliens one more time, and unleashed the wave of energy at them. He watched as his assailants come into contact with the wave of blue energy, and burned to ash in mere seconds.
Kevin rushes towards the Oracle and helped him get up. Together, they packed up their camp and headed home. | 2018-02-27T05:33:50 | 2017-12-06T20:39:17 | 341 | 13 |
[WP] The hottest show in the afterlife for the past decade: Steve Irwin wrangling all sorts of supernatural creatures. | G'day and welcome to the Myth Hunter. Today, I'm going after the stone salamander of Seneca. Oh, looks like we've got one. 'Ere we have the rare basilisk. Crikey, this ones a giant in'it he? Now the thing you've got to remember with basilisks is, if they stare you straight in the eye, yer turned to solid rock. So the best thing to do with these is to wear a blindfold 'round ya head. Now that I've got mine on, I can start to wrangle it.
Whatcha wannado with these critters is get low to the ground while you approach em. Now they're going to- oof, yea- to try and rear up at ya. Once you hear that screech you've got to go in at em. Grab em right- c'mon there ya go- right here, right under the front two legs. Keep your head Low, it'll try and nip ya, but it can't bend its neck far enough.
Shh, shh, calm girl calm. Now we can safely remove the blindfold, as we keep her eyes pointed safely in the sky. Ya can see this ones a girl cause of the crystal 'tween her eyes. Males don't got that 'tween their eyes, just real thick, thick, eyebrow ridges. As a secondary weapon the basilisk has these thick claws, take a look 'ere. Each ones about a quarter inch thick and hard as granite. Teeth too, once bit straight through my sternum. Lucky I'm dead else it've put me out of commission.
Alright, time to let her go now. You've got to put your blindfold back on and toss her back quick. I'm going to push off in 3.....2......1....go go go go, alright c'mon. Looks like shes stopped following now and- wassat? Zoom in over there. Crickey, shes got a little runt with her. Definitely the smallest of her litter, little guy must only be about a foot long. S'allright to look at 'im. Poor lil guy wont open his eyes for 'nother month at least. For now he's sticking close to mommy for protection. The young climb on their mothers back for protection from threats. For the first three months of their lives they're effectively defenseless against predators, specially weasels.
God. That's just absolutely beautiful. Watching mother and son go into the sunset together. Nature's majesty right before us. Thanks all for tuning in, catch me here next week when we go after the elusive jackalope, the mirage of the midwest. G'night! | "G'day! Today we'll be bushwackin' round the 'lysian Fields! Some of you may recognize the name from *Greek Mythology!* Keep your eyes peeled, because you never know what we may find out here...it could be the ghost of Hercules, or the spirit of Prometheus, or...
"Crikey, would you take a look at this! This is a rare sight indeed. What we have here is a Cyclops! Like many creatures, the Cyclops is quite misunderstood. Few of 'em are given the chance to be heroes, but looks like our friend heah made the cut! Good on ya, mate!
"The main way to tell a cyclops from anywhere else is to sneak up behind 'em and stick a finger in their bum! If they react at all, they're probably a Cyclops!
"Of course, I'm kiddin' - a little gallows humor from beyond the grave. Nah, the Cyclops is recognized by the single eye plopped smack in the middle of 'is forehead! Not many know that Cyclops means 'circle eye' - cycle like bicycle!
"Now, what I usually do with Cykes is I pull out my spell book of *white magic*. You can also get by with any kind of flame-enchanted blade - a flame saber, or a Scimitar of the Salamander People - typical kit you can get at any Afterlife Exploration store.
"But I love the classics. So I've got my turtle shell heah, an' some sheep gut. This is sheep gut from the Chios sheep but really any breed'll do. We'll show you how to do this yourself later in the episode. And as I strum this melody...our friend heah's gonna go right ta sleep!
"Now that 'e's down for a snooze, we can get a closer look. Wouldya look at some of these markings - blimey! These're from arrowheads, up heah, an' if I had ta guess I'd say they're from a fight with *Argonauts*. An' here's a spot where the poor fella's been done with a speah or two - ouch!
"Ooo...I'm gonna very quickly activate my amulet now, which gives me an *Aura of Benificence*. And it's got nothin' ta do with our one-eyed friend here...and everything to do with the sudden *chillin' of my blood.* Which tells me that there's...ah, yup, I see 'im! I'll just step outta the way...
"I hope you can see this at home - this spectral form with two glowin' eyes is known as a *wraith.* An' I have ta say, ya never want ta get too close to them - as they may *drain you of all happiness* and *consume your eternal soul.* Doesn't sound too pleasant, does it?
"But I'm just going ta cast a quick *binding charm*, and then we'll get right up next to the fella. Ooo, look out! Looks like my charm wasn't completely effective - look at 'im go! But as I strengthen the ephemeral restraints, he'll slowly realize there's no escape.
"Wraiths have a bad reputation from folks blunderin' into their habitat an' often disturbing the *site of their Earthly remains.* Nothin' 'll get these ghosties fired up more quickly then steppin' on their graves. They're nocturnal, though, sleepin' most of the day and comin' out ta go on walkabout at night. Best way to steer clear: avoid old cemeteries, 'specially after dark.
"Now I'm gonna back away from 'im slowly, and release my magical hold. We'll let the ghostie float on back to 'is crypt, and that's that.
"Speakin' o' which, it's 'bout time I head back ta *my* crypt. We'll have to save the lyre lesson 'til next time. For Ethereal Planet, I'm Steve Irwin, an' thanks for watchin' Afterlife Hunter!"
* * *
*Edit for formatting and because Steve forgot to tell the viewer how to make their own lyre.* | 2022-11-14T01:22:17 | 2017-12-21T15:45:43 | 5,465 | 308 |
[WP] The hottest show in the afterlife for the past decade: Steve Irwin wrangling all sorts of supernatural creatures. | G'day and welcome to the Myth Hunter. Today, I'm going after the stone salamander of Seneca. Oh, looks like we've got one. 'Ere we have the rare basilisk. Crikey, this ones a giant in'it he? Now the thing you've got to remember with basilisks is, if they stare you straight in the eye, yer turned to solid rock. So the best thing to do with these is to wear a blindfold 'round ya head. Now that I've got mine on, I can start to wrangle it.
Whatcha wannado with these critters is get low to the ground while you approach em. Now they're going to- oof, yea- to try and rear up at ya. Once you hear that screech you've got to go in at em. Grab em right- c'mon there ya go- right here, right under the front two legs. Keep your head Low, it'll try and nip ya, but it can't bend its neck far enough.
Shh, shh, calm girl calm. Now we can safely remove the blindfold, as we keep her eyes pointed safely in the sky. Ya can see this ones a girl cause of the crystal 'tween her eyes. Males don't got that 'tween their eyes, just real thick, thick, eyebrow ridges. As a secondary weapon the basilisk has these thick claws, take a look 'ere. Each ones about a quarter inch thick and hard as granite. Teeth too, once bit straight through my sternum. Lucky I'm dead else it've put me out of commission.
Alright, time to let her go now. You've got to put your blindfold back on and toss her back quick. I'm going to push off in 3.....2......1....go go go go, alright c'mon. Looks like shes stopped following now and- wassat? Zoom in over there. Crickey, shes got a little runt with her. Definitely the smallest of her litter, little guy must only be about a foot long. S'allright to look at 'im. Poor lil guy wont open his eyes for 'nother month at least. For now he's sticking close to mommy for protection. The young climb on their mothers back for protection from threats. For the first three months of their lives they're effectively defenseless against predators, specially weasels.
God. That's just absolutely beautiful. Watching mother and son go into the sunset together. Nature's majesty right before us. Thanks all for tuning in, catch me here next week when we go after the elusive jackalope, the mirage of the midwest. G'night! | G'day friends, my name's Steve Irwin, and you're watchin' Crocodile Hunter! Today we're going on an adventure to the Australian Outback, my homeland. Nothing better than wrangling a kangaroo, right mate?
But we're not after any kangaroos today, no. We're going to find ourselves... a *drop bear*. These lovely buggers are a tad bit like the koala, but with the attitude of a pissed off crocodile. You gotta be careful when you handle 'em, that is if you can even get close enough. Now, what makes a drop bear different from his cousin the koala is his predatory nature. A koala spends his afternoons munching on eucalyptus leaves, but a drop bear, a drop bear has a hankering for human flesh, especially the face. There're too many stories floating about out there in the great beyond about a clueless tourist losing his face to a drop bear. Tsk tsk. They might look cuddly mate, but they'll chew your face off faster than you can shout "blimey!"
We're gonna have t'be careful when we see one. Usually, you can spot yourself a drop bear lolly-gagging in the tree branches, but it's best you make sure he can't see you. Look. Over there, to the left. See him? That's a drop bear. Looks like we've got a baby one. That's not a good sign-- mama shouldn't be too far off. Let's try 'n get a closer look.
Now, it's important to keep your distance and use proper technique when approaching a drop bear. Luckily, your buddy Steve here's a certified drop bear handler. Not an honor to be taken lightly. So, first thing you're gonna wanna do when wrangling yourself a drop bear is cover up your face. The face is the drop bear's favorite point of attack, so you need to be prepared. In the wild, a startled drop bear will indiscriminately shred face. We've got ourselves a handy ski mask here, not too easy to find down under, eh? Any face covering will do, but you're gonna want to avoid disguising yourself as anything a drop bear might decide he fancies for lunch.
Now that my face is properly hidden, I can think about getting closer to the drop bear. I'm standing underneath him right about now, but I don't think he sees me yet. When dealing with drop bears, you need to make yourself known. Let's yell at him.
"Eh drop bear!"
Crikey! We got his attention now. Look at the way he's descending from his perch. Any second now, he'll drop right to the ground. That's how the drop bear gets 'is name. Isn't nature amazing?
Alright, so now we've got our buddy the drop bear right where we want him. Let's jump on it! Crikey, he's a fighter. When you tackle a drop bear, you want to position your face away from his teeth and grab him under the chin, like this. I don't know about you mate, but I favor keeping my face. Now that we've got him pinned, you can see the little guy relaxing. Don't be fooled mate, the drop bear is a sneaky little bugger. He'll jump right up at a moment's notice, so you got to keep your eye on him. Let's get a better look at his teeth. See how sharp those are? In the wild, the drop bear uses those wily fangs of his to incapacitate any unfortunate creature that happens under his branch. Our buddy sure is cute, but he's dangerous, and it's not right to interfere with a wild animal's day to day activities. At least not too much. Let's say goodbye to our friend the drop bear. Take it easy, little bugger!
Next, join me as I journey off to the American Southwest in search of a legendary beast, the chupacabra. A wolf-like menace so dangerous, and so elusive, everyone who's tried to capture one has found themselves a drained, bloodless husk. Join us next time, only on Discovery.
Edit: spelling | 2022-11-14T01:22:17 | 2017-12-21T18:27:05 | 5,465 | 86 |
[WP] Humans aren't generally that advanced but their engineering capabilities are one of the top within the galaxy, since they are so stubborn. This has led to the saying "Leave a human with a machine that is ineffective, give it a few months and it will become effective." | "'Leave a human with a machine that is ineffective, give it time, and that machine will become effective.' Who here has heard this phrase?" A few hands in the lecture hall were tentatively raised. "Good good. For those of you who haven't it is said that the most salient evolutionary feature of the human is their ability to engineer. Any problem no matter how trivial or insurmountable can be solved by man if enough time is given." The visiting lecturer paced the lecture hall as he spoke.
"When humans entered the Inter-Galactic Union they were quickly mixed into every culture, peoples, and company as the engineers in chief. The technological marvels developed for the I.G.U. by the humans were wonderful and with them quality of life rapidly increased beyond even the wildest of hopes. This all changed soon enough. You see not everyone was thrilled with the human activity and many cultures now brought to the height of comfort through human engineering began to tighten regulations on the activities of humans. Soon whole cities, continents, even planets were barred from the humans. In the height of their decadence the many members of the IGU forgot who brought them their technology."
"As tensions rose the humans began to fight back but as they didn't have the numbers, the knack for politics, or the weapons this proved ineffectual in all but one way. The only effect was that disdain for humans turned into hostility and punitive actions were taken against the human empire. Finally after a brutal war the humans were quarantined and locked away in their own sector of the galaxy, not before they had killed of half the sentient races in the IGU with their most brilliantly engineered weapon of all time. They called it the 'small pox blanket'" | Once upon a time, there was a young boy who would live forever. As he grew older, the technology around him expanded and improved to where immortality became possible. Now this young boy was very stubborn, and he enjoyed solving puzzles. So stubborn was he in fact, that he at one point created his own puzzle pieces to fill in the gaps of one with missing pieces. Now at age 200, a century of education, and an existential crisis, he now faced the greatest puzzle of them all.
How can one live forever with no meaning?
He had grown bored with learning. He had learned the most abstract of mathematics, the most intricate details of physics, and had studied human nature both as an individual and as a collective. He had an almost perfect understanding of the world around him from the smallest indivisible components of the universe to the largest constructs in our reality. He had learned everything there was to learn, loved everything there was to love, and enjoyed everything there was to enjoy.
But yet the problem remained. How is one to continue beating one's own heart when there is nothing to beat for?
Now the boy knew that no matter what, the answer was to keep the heart beating. It did not matter what the results or the answer to the puzzle was, the heart must keep beating. So every morning as the sun rose over his perfect civilization, his heart continued to beat, yet his eyes never left the ceiling or the sky. Always looking up, always looking out, always hoping that something new and interesting would come along to give him that same sense of wonder he had as a young boy.
Another century passed. His family had gone on to whatever happened once the heart has stopped. Humans around him we're dropping like flies as the great puzzle of boredom begin to slip its claws into the soul of humanity. And yet this stubborn man refused to die. A century of puzzling on this problem had left him without hair and without human contact. The body around his heart had begun to decay and disintegrate, yet he still took in air and he still pushed forward through time.
Finally, at his wit's end, he brought out that old puzzle. The machine that is life's meaning had broken down completely for him, and he began to understand that he did not know how to solve that puzzle. So he did what any good engineer would do, he went back to basics. The puzzle was a picture of a woman. Not a specific woman, but a goddess of some ancient forgotten faith. It was clear that this woman was not supernatural, but that her face was based on a living, breathing person. The puzzle piece that was missing was a ring upon her finger. He had created one himself, and given it to the puzzle as an offering of completion.
Finally, The Epiphany hit him. He began to make his own puzzles. He offered them for free to anyone who would take them. He offered the journey that he once took. The years spent in toil and misery to finally come to that moment of Nirvana. He was always careful to leave out a piece or two.
To engineer a meaning for his life, one need only stubbornness and determination. And that alone can be worth living for. | 2018-04-26T10:34:44 | 2018-04-26T08:39:43 | 30 | 16 |
[WP] When humans die they are shown a highlight reel of every moment that they unknowingly saved someone's life. You have just died and are shown into a room with a large screen, a comfortable chair, and 5 months worth of snacks. | I closed my eyes for the final time and felt the weight on my chest release. The pain was gone and for a couple of moments I lay there and savoured the peace that surrounded me.
I heard somebody clearing their throat in expectation and I opened my eyes again, the peeling paint of the private hospital ward had been replaced with a tasteful decoration that might be found in the most exclusive hotels. The grubby grey sheets of my bed were now extravagant and beyond luxury for a simple man such as myself.
As I looked around in suprise, the source of the cough came into view. It was not my nurse who had cared for me with such devotion in my final days, it was not Klara who stood before me or my daughter Yelena. The look on my visitors face held such peaceful intent that I felt calmed by his prescence.
"Welcome to the afterlife. My name is Pete and I'm here to help you through this transistion. Before we start on the admin side of things, there will be an opportunity to review the good deeds you have done, the lives you have affected - directly or indirectly"
I was stunned by normalacy of this, even after death bureaucracy still has its place
"Enjoy your eternity with us [Stanislav](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stanislav_Petrov)" | Looking at the copious amounts of chocolate, chips, and for some reason, dried tealeaves, I wondered aloud:
“How long Is this showing?”
A deep booming voice resonated through the room, making my heart jump into my throat.
“21’914 lives saved. No more, no less. ”
Startling, I spun in a tight circle, trying to look everywhere in the white, slightly foggy, room, all at once.
“Who’s there?!”
Out of the wall walked the most beautiful person I’d ever laid my eyes on. It wore baggy loose pants in a comforting beige colour, and a loose-fitting t-shirt in the same colour. Walking on bare feet, it looked slightly down at me.
“Welcome to heaven. I am Paschar, the angel of vision”
With a smile, Paschar touched palm to heart, and waved it’s fingers out at me.
Looking at it, I slouched down into the chair, and put a hand on my racing heart.
“My god, you scared the crap out of me”
Paschar tilted it’s head and giggled lightly.
“No, no. I’m not Your God. You’ll meet Her later. For now, I’ve brought you here to show you all the good things you never knew you did.”
Trying to relax, I settled more comfortably into the chair, and forced a smile.
“Sounds great! How many lives did you say unwittingly saved? Nobody awful I hope!”
“21’914 lives you saved. No more, no less. Their judgement I leave for Astrea. I will however tell you that there are a couple of what you like to call celebrities in there.”
Unable to hold it in anymore, I gathered my courage and looked it straight in the eyes. In a carefully weighted voice, I asked what simply had to be asked.
“I’m awfully sorry to have to ask this, but I simply must know. Are you male or female?”
Paschar looked me right in the eyes, and winked.
“Yes” it said in a sultry voice that managed to be both feminine and masculine at the same time.
Turning abruptly, it started to leave.
“Enough questions for now. You have a movie to watch, and your grandma is “dying” to see you. Haha...”
Accompanied by that light giggling, Paschar walked straight through the wall, ignoring my insistent questions about which grandma she was referring to, whether my ex wife was here, and whether 21’914 lives saved was above or below average.
The light dimmed, and, with the familiar roar of a lion, the longest 5 months of my afterlife began.
*Edit: Typos | 2018-06-24T06:40:56 | 2018-06-24T06:28:03 | 60 | 16 |
[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again | "Are you ready?" Death asked. His emotionless eyes stared down at me, calm and cool.
I huffed out a disagreement as a reply. "No, I didn't want to die just yet. My life just started."
Death didn't say anything, just nodded and turned away. I sucked in the breath of life, hearing the joyful gasp from my surroundings. It was a happy day.
The second time Death visited me, I was under a car, right next to the wheel. Everything around me ceased in time, only Death approached.
"Are you ready?" He asked again. The question sounded light as a feather, but it struck something heavy in my chest.
My eyes found the biggest love of my life, Alice, who was frozen in the air as she ran to my place. Her face twisted in shock and fear. "No," I said, "I'm not ready yet."
Death tilted his head, the corner of his mouth twitched. "Very well." He whispered and turned around. Death left again. I was spared one more time.
The third time I met Death, the house was on fire. Death walked through the flames like walking through silk. He crouched down next to me, asking the familiar question. "Are you ready?"
I glanced down at the leg that was crushed by the fallen closet and then brought my eyes up at Death. "I'm sorry, I'm not ready. Alice is still in her room. I need to wake her up."
Death gestured my leg. "If you go on, the rest of your life would be in pain."
"It doesn't matter." I coughed. My eyes were dry and my throat was on fire. "Alice means everything to me."
Death sighed, standing up. "We'll be seeing each other again." He left, as usual.
The fire destroyed the house. The only thing I could remember from that night besides the conversation with Death was Alice's relieved face when she found out we both survived. I had no idea how I was able to carry her out, but I managed. Somehow, I had a feeling that Death had spared us both.
Years went by, and soon enough I was old, very old. And sick. I laid still on my bed when my family gathered around. Many of them cried, and I wished I could do something about it. But I was too weak to move.
Everyone said their farewell, because they knew my time had come. I did, too. I could already feel Death's presence.
"I'm not ready yet, Death." I said, knowing Death would hear me. "Alice isn't here yet. I can't go without seeing Alice for the last time."
"Don't worry, my friend." Death's hollow voice echoed in my ears. "I'll wait with you."
And he did. I took every heavy breath carefully, stringing along my chance. Then I heard Alice's familiar footsteps. I opened my eyes to see her rushing through the door.
She called out my name, wrapping her arms around me. The warmth and scent were welcoming. This was it. This was home.
With teary eyes, Alice said her goodbye. I laid my head on her hands, taking in every word. She said she loved me. I knew that already, but my heart jumped for joy every time she did.
"I am ready, Death." I closed my eyes.
The pain, the weight, the stiff movements suddenly left my body. I opened my eyes and found myself next to Death, right behind my family. Everyone was weeping, and half of me wanted to stay. But I knew it was impossible.
"I apologize for not coming with you so many times." I said to Death.
Death shook his head. "It's fine." He patted my head. "Let's go."
I took a final glance at Alice and her family, then walked alongside with Death.
"What's next?" I asked.
"Why don't you tell me? It has always been your decision."
I thought for a moment and suggested, "I want to stay by your side, is that okay?"
Death smiled for the first time. "Who am I to refuse a good boy's request?" | April 6th was always a special day for Melody. Regardless of all the bad things that happened in her life, the best things happened on April 6th.
Melody was 26 when Death first appeared. She had spotted him down the hallway as she moved about her apartment. The hair on the back of her neck had stood up, but as he moved silently in her direction her tension faded from her. She didn’t know why, but she felt that this apparition was her blessing for the day, which was April 6th.
He appeared to float in a black fog as he towered over Melody. “Human, are you ready to part with your life?” Though no eyes could be seen in the apparition’s skull... she felt as though he had been cataloging each of her various scars and injuries. She could feel him bore into each horrible memory after the other. It felt as if he was telling that she had seen enough... that she had been through enough.
Melody often had trouble smiling from her heart, but when she told him that she wasn’t ready to give up yet she smiled at him easily. Without further word he disappeared from her view.
As if the world had resumed moving she moved to go answer the knock at her door. It was a younger neighbor from down the hall. He had collapsed at her door clutching his chest. Melody ran to get her phone and call an ambulance for him. She stayed by his side till they arrived, never seeing the gun tucked away in his pocket.
From then on, on April 6th, Melody always considered the visit from Death as her blessing. He asked her if she was ready to leave this world behind and when she said no... he saved her from car crashes, a murder/suicide, medication mix-ups, and much more. He never asked any more of her, but as time drew on he lingered more.
When Melody was 31 and the fated April 6th came about, she didn’t answer his question at all. In his confusion he asked her again. “Are you ready to move on from this life?” “Death, why do you continue to save my life when I am not ready to go?” There was silence that followed. His teeth clacked and grinded against each other as if words could be formed from that alone.
“You’ve... had a bad life. I was merely curious if you wanted to continue living it.” A lie. It was a strange intuition she had about the reason. Almost like the grinding of teeth was a tell that hadn’t been abandoned in more than hundreds of years. “And the truth?” She needn’t elaborate any more than that. “You are... important to me. Tell me, do you know why you suffer so?” Melody had often asked that of herself.
“When I was a girl, I dreamed of a past life.” “Tova.” Although she was taken aback by her previous name, she continued. “Yes, Tova was my name. My father was a warrior and my mother oft told tales of his greatness. When he would return from his campaigns he would adorn my room with all sorts of unique toys. He treated me like a princess and gave me all that I could ever want. However, he was a beast in sheep’s clothing. His campaigns were nothing but a cover to rape and pillage. Each toy he gave me was torn from the charred fingers of the children he murdered. Eventually, a old woman laid a curse upon him and his ilk.” The dreams were vivid like a freshly scarred memory.
“My father truly loved my mother and me, but this curse turned all of his cruelty towards us. He slayed my mother and tortured me for many years. I remember begging him to just take my life, but he couldn’t free me from his curse. The daughter who shared his blood would share his fate.”
Silence. When Melody was a child she thought this was just a crazy dream to help her cope with her situation in this life. As the silence grew she knew in this instance that it was not.
“You had a child. Tova had a child.” Her breath hitched and she could feel her veins ice over. “I did. Arylss was his name.” “It means honorable, does it not?” Melody knew now why she felt blessed on April 26th. She bore Arylss on that day. He was a shining light in a dim world. When she had started bleeding, her father sold her to a brothel and eventually she bore a ‘bastard’.
“Yes, honorable. He was my light in a dark world.” There was no visual cue that he was smiling, but she could feel it. “It was you who gave me blessings every year on April 6th wasn’t it?”
More teeth grinding. “Yes, and I reaped your father before it was his time as well.” She nodded slowly. “He will be back for another life, and you will be his daughter once more.”
“Will you be waiting for me to be reborn again?”
“Always.”
“I’m ready, Arylss.” She smiled from her heart as she looked upon him. Even if he was only bones now, he was still just as beautiful of a sight as he had been when she first laid eyes upon him after birth.
“I see...”
“Oh, and Happy Birthday my child.” She stood and softly slid he hood from his skull. Delicately she kissed his head.
With a choked grinding of teeth, “Thank you, mother.”
Note: I typed this on my phone, so I’m really sorry if there are a lot of errors. | 2019-04-16T13:18:01 | 2019-04-16T13:04:05 | 39 | 12 |
[WP] You are an Occult Private Investigator hire by Humans and Supernatural Entities alike. Today, a heavily pregnant young woman wants you to track down the biological father of her child whom she claim is an Angel. After looking at some pictures, you recognized a good client and a Prince of Hell. | She was radiant, even though she tried not to be. She stood cowering in a corner of my office, all loose clothes and droopy ponytail. But faces like hers belong in a classic painting, standing coyly next to drooling dragons while some chump in shining armor waves a sword around.
​
I'm not a fan of heavy metal. I've traded guns in for a nice plastic taser, my silver flask in for a bottle of flavored water, and the best coins have been digital for a while now.
​
I looked down at the pictures in my hand, and sighed. She'd handed me over a dozen photos. Here was the Colosseum at sunset, here were the Fjords of Norway, a glacier lagoon in Iceland, a beach shack on some island. The backgrounds varied, but the foreground remained the same. Her- blonde, blue eyed, radiant- beaming up at Him. In each photo, he smirked at the camera, his dark eyes full of mischief and a tinge of criminality. I always thought Nicky had a punchable face, but I guess the ladies liked to kiss it some.
​
"Please, mister. You need to find him." She said, putting one hand on the bump at her stomach. "He's in trouble, I know he is- he'd never leave me otherwise. You have to help me, you just have to. He needs to come home."
​
Oh-ho-ho. Nicky the Sirer of a million bastards, abandoning a woman he'd seduced? Color me shocked.
​
Her eyes changed, just for a moment, "I know what you're thinking. I can see it on your face. But it's not like that with him. He's an angel, you know? A real angel. Oh if you knew the things he's said to me..."
​
The waterworks started then, and it was either hand her a tissue or call a plumber. I seated her down, gave her half a dozen "there there"s, and wondered when it'd be the right time to introduce my premium pricing plan.
​
Finding Nicky wasn't going to be a problem. As a regular client, he'd introduced me to a fair share of irate husbands and outraged women, all of whom eventually agreed to a price. I didn't want to kink-shame a Prince of Hell, especially not when he had me on retainer. But I wanted to ask Nicky if he couldn't upgrade it a little. Did his fantasies have to sound like scandals from a Victorian Gothic novel?
​
When I'd worked out the coin with her and sent her off with half a dozen promises and reassurances, I threw on my coat and headed out. Modern day princes of hell prefer man buns, flowery shirts, and a vegan bar on the upper east side. Go figure.
​
Sure enough, there he was, squeezed into a booth by a picture window, one hand around a girl, the other gesticulating as he talked her into doing something she didn't really want to do.
​
"Sorry lady." I pulled a chair backwards and plopped onto it. "Nicky's got some child support to figure out right now." Her butt swung out the door before I could take a sip of the whisky sour before me. Nicky had a fresh hand print on his cheek.
​
He gave me a sullen look. "Do you have to do that every time?"
​
"What? Tell them a truth or two?"
​
"Spoil my fun."
​
"Ah but it brings a warm glow to my heart doesn't it?"
​
"The only thing emptier than your heart is your pocket." Nicky said. "Now what do you want?"
​
"There's a pregnant blonde in my office who thinks you're an aaangel." I said. "Give the poor girl some closure, will you? Meet up with her next week and we can sort out payment and child visitation maybe?"
​
His eyes went blank with shock, and the color drained from his face. "Blonde? Mole on her left cheek? Smile like a camera flash?"
​
"I wouldn't know. She wasn't exactly all smiles." I leaned forward. "What is it, Nick?"
​
"I had no way of knowing!" Nicky was sweating now. "I cut out as soon as I found out. Malone, you gotta help me. You gotta. I'll be ruined. My dick'll be cauterized. Please, man. You have to rescue me from her."
​
"Whoa now." I cocked my head. "You're afraid? You?"
​
"You don't get it." Nicky said, in a full panic now. "She isn't human like I thought. I should have seen it right away- she was so radiant. But I was blinded by lust. Or maybe just blinded by her. Malone, man- don't you get what this is?"
​
I did now.
This was bad news at 3 am. This was napalm mixed in sugar syrup. This was the start of an inter-divinity war.
​
Nicky, a prince of hell, had just lied to and impregnated an arch-angel. | I stood in my office looking out the window. The rain was pouring rather heavily today. My hand went to the scar on my forehead. An involuntary action. It happened on a night very much like this. I looked at the open case files on my table. Cheating husband. Wife who disappeared. Man charged with embezzling. A werewolf charged with murders. I felt dirty. In my line of job, you only came across the worst elements of humanity and otherworldly beings. And it wore on you. You reached a point where you hated everything. For me, that point had been years ago. But this was the only hung I was good at, the only skill I had. Your stomach didn’t care if you hated everything as long as it got food. No food, no life. I wondered what that would feel like. I didn’t remember much from that night. Just some lights. I touched my scar again and walked out the door into the rain.
I let the water wash over me. Hoping it would clean me. Wash away my sins. Wash away the filth that has accumulated over the years.
I felt a flash of pain as the world became colourful suddenly. I fell to one knee clutching my head. I looked around me wondering what was coming. I saw a bus stop in the distance and a young woman step out. Was this real? She felt completely out of place in this fucked up piece of town. No, she looked much too pure for this place. She looked around and tentatively stuck her hand out of the shelter. She then looked towards me, no, past me towards my office and with a determined look ran towards it ignoring the rain.
I got up and walked casually towards my office too. We reached there at almost the same time. I held the door open for her as she stared at me.
“Go on miss.”
“Thank you.”
I followed her into my office not knowing what awaited me.
I offered her a towel to dry off a little. She took it with thanks. I looked at her as she stood there. She was a short woman with blonde hair, the sort country songs were written about. Alas, this place was as far away as possible from the wholesome country situations.
“Come on in when ready.”
I left her in the hallway and walked to my office. I paused at the door, looking around my office. I still don’t know why, but I quickly took down a rather unsavoury poster I had on my wall. And covered up the wanted board. She seemed too pure to be exposed to the filth I lived in. She gave off an aura of innocence that I had to protect at any cost.
One of my biggest rules is not to get emotionally involved. I had always followed this rule. No attachments with the clients and certainly not with the one I was going after. I had broken this rule without even talking to her.
She knocked on the door and I hailed her in. I went to my chair and she sat down opposite to me. I took the chance to really look at her. She was more beautiful than I had previously realized. The aura of innocence was stronger than I had realized her as well. I was curious as to why a simple girl like that would need me. In an ordinary world, our paths should never cross. I sighed. Ours was not an ordinary world.
I waited for a couple of minutes. She played with a key ring, clearly nervous. She looked at her hands the entire time.
“So Ms...”
“Jones. Felicity Jones.”
“Ms Jones. What brings you to this part of the world.” A part of me wanted to scream at her to get out of this part of the world. Before it tainted her with its ugliness.
“It’s.. i... uh...” she hesitated.
“Ms Jones...”
“Felicity. You can call me Felicity.”
I smiled. Probably the best and the most friendliest smile I could manage.
“Felicity, anything you say here is confidential. Trust me. I am good at keeping secrets.”
“It’s just... this is embarrassing.”
“Ms Jones. The worst part of my job; anything you say, I’ve seen worst, first hand.”
“I... well I am pregnant.”
That was quite unexpected. I stared at her face, wondering where she was going with this. “Ok. So you are pregnant. And you need my help?”
“I, well, I want you to find the father for me.”
“You don’t know who the father is?”
She looked at me, eyes wide. “Of course I do! I mean... I thought I did.”
She stopped again, her eyes dropping to her hands.
“Go on Ms Jones.”
“Well we had been dating for a couple of months. And then he kind of disappeared. I went by his place and they said no one by that name lived there. I went to his work and they said he quit. I don’t know where to find him. I don’t think he even knows I am pregnant.”
“Have you considered that he does and that’s why he ran?”
She looked shocked again. Oh my sweet summer child. I almost felt bad suggesting these things to her. She was far too pure and removed from the harsh realities of life.
“No! Damien would never do that.”
“Ah. So there’s the first step. His name was Damien.”
“Is Damien.”
“Right. So your boyfriend is missing. This seems like a job for the cops.”
“I already went to the cops. They couldn’t find anything. They are still looking. On of the deputies who was on the case suggested your name to me. Off the record.”
“One of the deputies? Was this deputy named Frank by any chance?”
“Yes! Frank Skinner his name was.”
“Well if Frank sent you then I have to help you for sure. So do you have any pictures. Or you would have done a sketch for the cops.”
“Well, Damien really didn’t like to be photographed.”
“They never do.”
“Excuse me?”
“So no photographs?”
She took out a crumpled photo and handed it to me.
“This was taken by a friend of mine. It was karaoke night and her husband was singing. That’s him in the right hand corner.”
I squinted. A young man. Dark hair. Past his shoulders.
She took out a piece of paper and handed it to me as well. “That's the sketch I did with the cops.”
I looked at the picture and a shiver ran down my spine. I had worked with this man before. But I had hated myself for it every time.
“So Frank probably saw this sketch and sent you to me right?”
“Yes! Do you know him?”
“I think I do.” I got up, moping my brow. I could just be the rain water, but more likely it was sweat. Because I was scared. And I didn’t scare easy.
I rummaged through the filing cabinet and took out a picture. It showed me with a man. The man was smiling. I was not. I handed it to her.
“Yes! That’s my Damien! So you know him?”
I stared at her face unsure of what I should tell her.
“Yes Ms Jones. I know him. He’s the devil.” | 2019-07-02T05:01:36 | 2019-07-02T05:01:35 | 110 | 16 |
[WP] In space, wars are typically quick. One side attacks and then the other side surrenders. When aliens attack a human city they belive the humans are defeated. They are not prepared for what the humans call "Retribution" | General Gaffney rubbed his temples at the head of the table. Without opening his eyes, he muttered, "Major, start over from the beginning. I want to make sure I have this straight."
"Yes sir. The attack began at oh-nine-hundred and current intel has it lasting 17 --"
Colonel Thompson broke in. "And it was Akron? Akron, *Ohio*. That's what they targeted?"
Major Collins licked his lips, eyes darting down to the report before him briefly. "That is correct according to the information we have received, sir. Akron. In the state of Ohio."
Collins hesitated, gaze sweeping the table, before resuming. "And the attack lasted 17 seconds, with --"
"Minutes," Gaffney growled.
"Sir?"
"You said seconds, Major."
"Uh...affirmative, sir. If you look on page 7 of the report, it's quite clear, there's a, ah, footnote...and everything. *It is indeed surprising that after the staging and build-up that took place in Earth's atmosphere that the actual attack was so brief, but review from multiple sources confirms that it was over in almost a quarter of a minute.*"
"Fuck these assholes!" Gaffney was on his feet, having hurled a ballpoint pen across the room, narrowly missing the sergeant standing at the door. There was a pause. "Seventeen *fucking* seconds? It's just...okay, Major, skip ahead. The target. What was the target?"
"A building called the Huntington Tower on Mill Street in downtown Akron." Major Collins shifted in his seat, then added, quietly, "In Ohio."
Gaffney's eyes bulged as he whirled on the Major, who involuntarily wheeled back in his chair a few inches. "And what do our internal reports say the strategic value of the Huntington Tower on Mill Street is, precisely?"
"Sir, there's no...the people who put together the report were able to glean some information from a..." Major Collins looked down at his papers, mumbling.
"Speak *up*, Major."
"Yes, sir, sorry, sir. The, uh, intel, such as we have, is gleaned from a Google search and includes most of the Wikipedia article about the building, which states it is 300 feet tall with numerous one- and two-bedroom apartments. Sir."
"Good *gravy*, Major! Three hundred feet! It must have at least a dozen stories!"
"27, sir. Uh, according to...Wikipedia. Sir."
"27. And how many casualties were there?"
"Sir, the munitions used were primarily...non-explosive projectiles. And as such --"
"Major, I have a giant headache. Let's speak clearly. When you say non-explosive projectiles..."
"...rocks, sir. They attacked us with...by dropping rocks."
"On the Huntington Building."
"Yes, sir."
"In Akron."
"Yes, sir." Major Collins closed his mouth, opened it, and then thought better of appending the name of the state to the end of his utterance.
"And the casualties?"
"37 broken windows and a handful of minor cuts and bruises, sir. An elderly lady who was crossing Mill Street also fell and broke her hip."
"And what are they doing now?"
The major gave a nod to an aide, who hit a button on his laptop. The screen in the conference room was bathed in the light of the ceiling-mounted projector. It showed dozens of gleaming-silver spacecraft flying in a clearly orchestrated pattern - moving sideways in unison, then back the other way, then doing an aileron roll. Then the pattern repeated.
"Audio, if you would, Major." The forced congeniality in the general's voice was somehow more menacing than the outburst of moments ago.
Tinny music filled the conference room. While it was clearly exotic sounding, the staccato of the quick notes and the rising tonality certainly made it sound like a victory song of some kind.
General Gaffney stared around the room at the other officers present, watching their faces as the music played. "That'll do." The speakers went silent.
"Well, lady," Gaffney said, nodding to Brigadier General Meyers, "and gentlemen...to judge by your faces, none of this makes any more sense to you than it does to me. My headache is getting worse, and I have to go to the rehearsal dinner for my son's wedding tonight. So tell the gang at Wright-Pat to light these assholes up and hopefully never talk about it again."
The order was given to the pilots on standby at the air force base in Dayton. This time, the attack lasted 7 minutes and 29 seconds. The pilots would later report it was the easiest mission they had ever flown. | It was from the ashes that the humans rose, as we always did.
Not like a phoenix, and I brushed away the idea of a rebirth. They always asked about it, and it was never right. A rebirth implied a clean birth, free of the memories of what had been before. That wasn't the human way. We rose, the battle lost but the war unfinished. We mended our wounds and fixed the gaping holes and became better, hopefully.
The damage this time had been unprecedented. Megalopolises had turned to rubble, and entire cultures turned to nothing, and when the dust settled and the victors landed, they were confident in their subjugation of the human race. That was the way of the intergalactic wars. Quick and brutal, ending in either complete annihilation or eventual surrender.
Afterwards, the vanquished would assimilate. Humans and their conquerors weren't meant to fight for eternity, constantly squabbling over rightful ownership or true ruler of one planet or another. That was the expectation, at least. But we had a way of subverting expectations.
Where the Rox-kal went, they won. What enemy they saw, they defeated. Long ago, they had perfected faster than light travel. Long ago, they had found how to transport weapons of immeasurable destruction across galaxies. At times, my lectures came off like an ode to the Rox-kal more than a testament to the willpower and resilience of our own kind.
More recently, though, the Rox-kal had done away with the concept of total annihilation. Besides, vassals served infinitely more purpose than war-torn planets turned to pieces of stone drifting aimlessly across the solar system. Vassals paid tribute, and expanded the Rox-kal culture. The further they spread, the more power they gained.
It had become redundant, at least on their first pass through a solar system, to exterminate every last member of a conquered species. It was simple evolution, I explained, of both species and thought. But in this case, their evolution went awry. Humans weren't like the other species, or at least that's what I liked to teach.
Human and Rox-kal could live together in harmony, and from that new species would be born. One planet then another, and eventually new species peppered their confederation. Their allegiance never wavered, so long as they were part Rox-kal.
That was how it should have been.
Earth proved no harder to defeat than any other planet. We sent out an armada of hastily assembled spacecraft to be dismantled just as quickly. Limbs rained upon Earth in the aftermath. A grisly scene, to be sure, but one that sent the intended message. I had never seen anything of the sort.
The delegates came forth offering our conditional surrender. We humans were not to be enslaved, the delegates insisted. The Rox-kal agreed, because they had no need for slavery. They had no over-arching goal beyond conquest. Their planet, from travelers' rumors, had a wealth beyond our wildest imaginations.
For good measure, because the bitter taste of defeat sometimes lingered, they leveled a handful of cities, claiming the rights that victors have. We looked on, accepting and remembering, and promising retribution.
The history went no further. From there, the lessons turned to now, right here on Earth. There was little question of where things were heading. Underground, where the passing Rox-kal couldn't see, arsenals were accumulated and minds were indoctrinated. For the best, I was sure, because I had seen the power of the Rox-kal.
It was from the ashes that the humans rose, as we always did. Renewed, more than reborn.
"Not revenge," I explained to the class of recruits. Young blood, just twelve years old, the lot of them. All pure-bred, because the mixed breed Rox-kal were far too loyal to be trusted. "Retribution."
"The difference, Professor?" one of them piped up. A scrawny boy. They were all scrawny, but he lagged even behind the others. What he lacked in body, he made up for in spirit, and I smiled at his question. Talos was his name, if I remembered correctly. It was hard, so many children having passed through the room. But I would remember him, I was sure of it.
"We aren't lashing out," I explained, continuing to the next slide. "This isn't about the armada," and they gasped at the destruction the Rox-kal had caused. "This isn't about New York. Or Beijing. Or Sydney." Three more slides, and by the third they gasped no more. Flattened cities, because that was the power of the Rox-kal. "Retribution is different. Retribution seeks justice, not just pain upon the Rox-kal. Retribution seeks to right the wrongs that they have committed, not to respond with wrongs of our own." I paced as I spoke, but my eyes remained fixed on his slender frame.
The boy nodded in understanding, and I smiled. Inquisitive minds made the best officers. I had seen that over the years. Yes-men mindlessly following instructions were what had kept us tethered, resigned to the Earth and to only the least bit of intergalactic exploration.
We hadn't been able to fight the Rox-kal. They made examples of some cities, a fate I was thankfully spared, and then expected us to embrace their conquest. They expected us to assimilate and become them, and more humans did so than I would have liked.
But now things were different. Years had passed, and we had progressed. I had seen generations pass through my classroom, and still I taught them history, until we hit the conquest. From there, the past became the present, and the present was perilous. Rebellion and retribution were in the air, and us humans were no longer a defeated species, at least as far as our mindset was concerned.
We had a strength they couldn't even begin to understand, and we had the element of surprise to our advantage.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2019-12-17T12:02:20 | 2019-12-17T11:38:45 | 611 | 246 |
[WP] NASA employee: oh hey you guys are back early. Astronaut: Moon's haunted. NASA employee: what? Astronaut: *loads pistol and gets back on rocketship* Moon's haunted.
credit to @Dustinkcouch on Twitter | The moon had sat evacuated for months.
The ghosts of the dead had lived on the moon for millennia.
The base finally allowed them to take tangible form. To begin the ritual.
As he rose forth, the moon shuddered. A portal opened.
The ritual continued. A hand crawled out of the void that had appeared.
One of the ghosts paused. His younger years detected something.
Satan heard it too. Dragging himself out of the pit, he made an effort to rise faster so he may face the dread foe.
Satan spoke.
"HE IS COMING. DEFEND YOURSELVES."
The young ghosts face went pale. He turned to the other ghosts. A green blur could be seen rapidly advancing towards the base in the distance.
The ghost spoke as the blur became clear. A man. In green armor. Holding a shotgun.
"Do you guys hear heavy metal?" The young ghost said.
And then the man smashed through the window.
And all hell broke loose. | There was an extraordinarily lengthy period of silence following this particular statement. It had been decades since humanity had set foot on the moon, and trillions of dollars had since been spent building the complex technology required to sustainably and regularly return. An entire fleet of reusable rocket ships had been stockpiled, a new lunar space station with plentiful fuel storage had only recently completed construction, and a vast network of support satellites were in place to provide constant communication and positioning data. No expense had been spared in pursuit of this grand adventure, no stone un-turned in the name of science and progress. The greatest of minds had been assembled from all across the world, a wealth of talent surrounding an astronaut program of a caliber well and truly beyond what had ever been managed before it.
"Moon's haunted."
Truly, there was no more colossal of a fuck-up in the history of rocketry.
"The Moon... is haunted?"
"Moon's haunted."
"I'm sorry, run this by me again. We're talking in the same language, right? These words mean the same thing to both of us, right? This isn't just some prank?"
"Moon's haunted."
"Brian. We just spent forty two billion dollars preempting television in one hundred and fifty seven countries. We built an entire space station, we've been deploying satellites and probes for decades in advance, the best scientific minds have been constantly pouring over mountains of data."
"Moon's haunted."
"And you think *a gun* is going to help with that?! Are the ghosts *allergic* to lead? This doesn't make any sense!"
"Moon's haunted."
"Listen, I cover for a lot of your shit, okay? But this time? No, Tim's not helping you. We're federal government employees, Brian! Do you know what they're going to do to us?"
"Moon's."
"Well. Probably nothing, honestly, but think of all the paperwork! *Good lord, the paperwork!*"
"Haunted."
"Look. Your ship is out of fuel, you're wearing a bag that's filled with the last three days of your own poop, and there's a world full of people out there that are going to want to know why you just turned right around and went home the second that you landed. We can't just tell those people that the moon is haunted, okay? We can't let an armed astronaut go on the stage and just endlessly repeat that the moon is haunted."
"Why not?"
"Because then we'll have to explain where the bodies came from!" | 2020-01-17T12:31:35 | 2020-01-17T12:07:51 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] NASA employee: oh hey you guys are back early. Astronaut: Moon's haunted. NASA employee: what? Astronaut: *loads pistol and gets back on rocketship* Moon's haunted.
credit to @Dustinkcouch on Twitter | "What do you mean, the Moon's haunted?"
"It's haunted, all right? Just trust me. I saw it with my own eyes. You remember Nickelson? That sonofabitch with the bad haircut and the little dog? Or maybe it was his wife's little dog. Anyway. I saw him. But he was dead. And red. And floating. Look, it was a whole thing, ok? But the moon's haunted and we gotta do something about it because if we don't, they're gonna come *here*, and I don't know about you, but Earth's kinda where my keep my stuff, and I definitely don't want these guys messing with it."
"Sir..."
"I mean, yeah, look, I know this isn't how we usually do things, but if you'll just fill 'er up and send me back, I can handle it. I've got the coordinates for that...uh, triangle light gate thing and...I'll just pop on through there and shoot 'em. That should take care of it. Yeah, that's a plan. We'll roll with that for now, you can send backup after me."
"Sir, if you'd just listen to..."
"Look, you need to listen to ME, all right? *I saw them.* It was *real*. And, let me tell you, it was seriously, seriously messed up. Like...seriously messed up. We have to do something about that. Now. Like, right now. So stop stalling and just..."
"...sir?"
"...it occurs to me that this is not a real rocketship."
"We call them landers, but, no, sir, it's not."
"I wasn't on the moon, was I?"
"No, sir, you weren't."
"You're right, I wasn't on the Moon, because I was right here in the Johnson Space Center, in the good ol' U. S. of A., and we were running a test simulation of fuel leak, which I might have replaced that plain ol' stinky stuff with something a bit more, uh, fun, just as a joke, you know, but I remember doing that, because I am one hundred percent not insane."
"...that is a real gun, though."
"Uh, yes, it appears that it is. I...any chance you could have pretended, um, not to see that?"
"I'm afraid not, sir."
"Shoot. Well, I guess I failed the screening, huh?"
"Rather spectacularly, sir. The MPs on their way. I suggest you disarm yourself before they get here."
"Damn it."
"Why did you bring a weapon to a test sim anyway?"
"Well, that, Lieutenant, is a very long and complicated story that -- since I'm washing out anyway -- I would be more than happy to tell you over dinner."
"Absolutely not."
"Hey...I'll tell ya how I snuck it in here, too. Here's a hint -- it definitely involved my pants."
"Is that security? Finally. Buzz them through, please."
"Can't blame a man for trying. Well, maybe you can. Hey, fellas! Look, this has all just been a big misunderstanding..." | “Don’t worry. I got this.” Dirk says strapping a sawed-off to his back.
Hector, the first year engineer dives behind a table. “Where’d that come from?” He pleads.
“It shoots salt. Might bruise you a little, but wont kill.” Hector pops up from behind the table, “Salt?”.
“Yeah for the ghosts, specters, and ghouls that haunt the moon.” Dirk said with no waiver in his voice.
“Why don’t you sit down for a while. Long trip, right?” Hector pulls out a chair for him.
“No time. You should load up too.” Dirk said tossing a large white duffle bag to Hector.
“Me?” Hector points to himself mouth agape.
“Yeah man. Its go time… You must be new.”
“I’ve been here 8 months!” Hector protested.
“Not long enough. N.A.S.A. National Anti-Supernatural Administration.” Dirk punctuated each word with a raising count on his hand.
“Sir, why don’t you put the gun down. I think you might be experiencing some side effects to your travel.” Hector pushed the chair toward Dirk.
The lights turn red and a voice comes over the loudspeaker: “This is not a drill, I repeat this is NOT a drill. All employees please report to your desks for immediate briefings. We have found hell, and it’s not on Earth.”
Hector looks at Dirk. “Well, you heard them. Hop to it.” Hector stampedes through the hallway pinballing off his fellow employees. Sitting on his desk is a brand new tablet. He sits. The screen lights up. *What is your name?* Flashes across the screen. Hector Alonso types in his name. The words melt toward the bottom of the screen and pool up to form a button. *Thumb Print Please*, arched around the top. “Cool,” Hector said. He couldn’t remember seeing anything like this in the r/D lab. He put his thumb to the button. A tiny barb pricks his finger. He pulls his hand away with an “Ow”. Droplets of blood form on his fingertip. *Sorry!* Flashes across the screen.
*Identity confirmed: Hector Alonso. Position: Research and Development Trainee. Vitals: Strong. Aptitude Score: 77.*
“77!” Hector scoffs. The text wipes off and a live feed of Dirk begins. Sitting on the table before him is a large container of salt, a bucket of empty capsules, and a funnel. His fists dug into the wood, as he leans over the items.
“For the uninitiated, I bet you have tons of questions. Including who I am. I am Dirk Kaggsworth lead piolet for the Trojan expeditions. First, let me assure you aliens are not real. Or at least not what you would traditionally consider an alien. But there is stuff out there. And it is a threat. Every day we here at NASA, the National Anti-Supernatural Administration, make sure that the people of this great nation are safe from extraterrestrial threat. And today we have discovered the motherload. On our last mission to the moon, we had an expedition to the dark side. There we found the entrance to a lair or base that these E.T.s operate from. Our scouts were unable to identify how large the structure was. About now you might be asking yourself how all this pertains to you. We are launching a full-scale infiltration of their Moonbase, and need all the help we can get. If your vitals are in good standing and you had an aptitude score of 15 or higher, we would like to take you along. If you wish to accept, meet in the cafeteria in 30 minutes and bring whatever personal items you will need. For those that don’t meet the requirements, rest assured there is still work to be done at home. The first thing all of you need to know is how to load a salt gun.” Dirk opens the end of a capsule from the bucket and puts it under the funnel. “3 grams of salt is all you need.” He puts a spoon into the container of salt and pours it into the funnel. “If you can do that, you can help. And I know all of you can.” He seals the capsule and inserts it into a magazine. From under the table, he pulls out what looks like a metallic nerf gun. The magazine clicks into place. “Let’s lock and load.” | 2020-01-17T12:17:22 | 2020-01-17T11:34:23 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] It turns out your pet rock is actually a golem and a golems duty is to protect. | “WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?” James screamed.
“He’s my pet rock, please don’t yell it’s very rude.” Sara said.
James peered at it confused “But what is it, some kind of robot or something?”
“No,” Sara replied “he’s a rock.”
“I get that it looks like a rock but how is it moving, is it some kind of machine-like wind up then?”
“No, I told you he’s made of rock. And please stop calling him it, that’s kind of offensive, how would you like to be called a thing?” Sara told him looking slightly offended.
James crouched slightly to examine it closer “So you’re trying to tell me that this, he is completely made of rock, no microchips, no gears, not even a spring?”
“Yeah.”
“So how is … he moving?”
“I don’t know”
“YOU DON’T KNOW?” James straightened stumbling.
“No, and please stop yelling I don’t want to disturb Ms. Johnson next door she gets very cross is she doesn’t get enough sleep.”
“So that, he, whatever. You’re telling me you have no idea what makes him move?”
“Of course I do. He uses his legs” Sara sniffed disdainfully
“That’s not what I meant. Rocks aren’t supposed to move.”
“Why not? People move.”
“Yes but that’s different, people aren’t made of…” James flailed, “I don’t know like rocks and stuff. You know inorganic things. We have a brain and neurons, muscles and bones and stuff.”
“What about cars they move?” Sara eyed him smugly.
“Yes but we made them and steer them and stuff.” James sighed “You’re really not seeing my point are you?”
“Not really I figure if a rock wants to move I shouldn't tell it it’s not allowed to”
“OK so I have to ask, where did you find him?”
“He was in the garden fighting a rat, apparently rocks are very territorial. He looked so cute and tired I decided to bring him in to rest and he just kind of stuck around”
“This is absolutely insane, I must be crazy. So tell me, why is he kicking me?”
“It probably sees you as a threat, as I said they can be very territorial.”
“Well can you tell him to stop?”
Sara looked at him like he was crazy “How he’s a rock?” | The Man walked from the rain and into his apartment, disheveled and defeated. His night-black hair soaking wet and dripping onto the ground, his own few tears indistinguishable from the sky's. He felt as though his life, which had been carefully balanced upon a pin, was finally tipping over.
He hung his umbrella on a hook by the door and took off his raincoat, simply laying it upon a lonely dining chair. He walked lowly into his living room and sat upon a cushion on the ground, his legs held into his chest, surrounded by unpacked boxes and a lack of warmth.
Before, he had done what he could to keep things going, to keep himself going. But one-by-one, things left, changed, or went on without him, yet he always kept going. Not necessarily because he wanted to, but because he didn't know what else to do.
On his cushion, he mind sat empty of thoughts, but his body full of feeling that he couldn't translate. He looked around him, at the empty boxes, at the empty home, and he suddenly found a way to translate his feelings. He began to cry. He couldn't say exactly why, only that he couldn't stop it.
He cried for a while. sitting on his cushion. He felt angry and felt that life was the farthest thing from fair at this moment. He also felt as though his feelings of anger were all he had. He was angry that he felt that he could do nothing to fix where he was, despite how hard he may try.
His hands went to his eyes, to hide, to cover them from anyone or anything that might see, that might know that he is breaking. He didn't want to let it be known.
He scooted forward, moving his bottom from the cushion to the carpet. He then laid his head upon the cushion, staring up at his lowly ceiling, his emotions still running at quite a good pace. He crossed his arms as he lay flat, only because it made him feel tighter.
He closed his eyes to rest, wanting to experience the relief of expired time. He lay there for some time, and eventually, his wish was granted.
When he awoke, not much later, he felt the softness of a blanket, seemingly attempting to comfort him. While the sensation wasn't unwelcome, he was certain he hadn't grabbed one before. Yet he didn't feel strongly enough to worry any further.
He turned to the side, holding the blanket tight against his body. He looked again at the boxes in his view and felt the same feelings from before. So he turned again, and instead opted to face the window, which he now noticed had the blinds up. On the windowsill sat an old toy of his, its' googly eyes watching him with care and warmth. He chuckled when he saw it, with childhood memories now flooding his head.
He stared at George, and traced his outline with his eyes, noting his symmetrical grooves along his head. He imagined holding George and could remember the feeling of George's smooth exterior, as though he were polished marble and not a rock the Man had found on the playground.
The Man smiled but stayed where he was on the ground. He pulled the blanket tight once again. He opted to return to sleep, but decided when he woke up, he would get up and unpack.
At least for one more day, he would get back up and continue on. And that was all he needed to know.
___________________________________________________________________
*Thank you for reading! I encourage you to leave critiques or comments if you have any, I take all tips and critiques seriously in order to better my writing. I also post all stories I write on my subreddit* r/ThawsanWrites | 2020-05-20T09:27:09 | 2020-05-20T09:09:45 | 38 | 11 |
[WP] as the house you're trapped in burns to the ground you contemplate "how am i gonna explain the fact I'm immortal to the firemen without starting another religion" |
“Well...shit.”
That phrase became as common place to my family as the constant need to move. You see somewhere down the blood line, my family gained immortality and it’s been passed down ever since. We’ve been through a lot over the centuries and this wasn’t the families first disaster.
The fire was a faulty cord as I discovered on my jaunt through the burning wreckage of my house. I could hear screaming from outside, neighbors and firemen a like. No problem, just like the monoxide leak when we lived in Persia sneak out before they find you, play it up like you were never home...
“Hey chief I think I see someone trapped in the kitchen!”
Oh shit. We’ll plan b...I don’t have a plan b. Fuck firemen have become quite efficient since the last fire we had. Play it cool or run? Play it cool or run? Play...
“Look out man the ceilings coming down!”
Fuck...well, it will be easier to report the crazy guy that jumped through his kitchen...what the hell?!
It all happened so fast. The fireman tackled me and charged through the backdoor. He’s unconscious but breathing and here I sit wide awake without a scratch on me...well time to flee again lest another cult starts in my name...let’s just move the old hero before the house blows.
“Son are two alright?!”
“You must be the chief. Yeah the old guy just knocked himself stupid saving me. “
“We have to get you to a hospital...”
“That won’t be necessary, I’m fine. Not a scratch on me...”
Woah he’s suddenly really close...
“Martin get in my truck...”
H-how does he know my name...looks like I’m going for a ride | *"Stupid. Stupid **stupid**."* Nico thought to himself. Of course you don't add water to an electrical fire. The setting-his-dinner on fire fiasco could have been contained as a small incident if he wasn't so **stupid** and tried to dump a bucket of water over the stove in panic. "I mean, I've taken Home Ec how many times now? Still can't learn." *1000 times. 1000 mistakes. Perhaps old dogs really can't learn new tricks.*
He sighed, breathing in black smoke that promptly had no affect on his lungs. The flames licking his skin could have been just an illusion for all the effect it had on him. The only burning he felt was in his cheeks, embarrassed by his damn stupidity. His ears suddenly perked up by the sounds of a distant siren. Yes, the firefighters were on the way here, as they should be with the roaring inferno and little explosions happening in his once beloved home. There won't be anything but ashes left once this is over. *Well, I suppose I'll be left.* Nico thought.
A similar incident happened to Nico back in 1578 when he was declared a heretic and was judged to be burned at the stake. Unfortunately for the villagers, he could not die and was left bored out of his mind for several days strapped to a piece of wood watching the flames dance and flicker about him. Fortunately for Nico, he went from heretic to prophet, and the villagers went from ordinary peoples to Nicolites. They believed he was a God and went from attempting to murder him to worshipping him as their chosen leader. It was fun for a while having his every demand met and crafting a utopia with him at the center of it. But, even that gets tiring when its the same old thing every year for the next hundred years. One day, he had written a message to his disciples stating that he must leave Earth as his father has called upon him to lead Heaven and slipped away in the middle of the night to find the next adventure. He often did wonder how the Nicolites evolved without him as most of them were genuinely good people.
Anyway, he had no interest in the start of a new religion as it really is a been there done that situation. He thought hard on how he might escape now. He supposed with a bit of acting and a bit of luck, he could walk away from all this un-suspiciously. He walked up the stairs and jumped out the window, remembering to scream as he landed as most people would feel pain. He did big acts of large winded coughs and acted generally hysterical - using a croaky voice to tell the firefighters who ran to meet him that it was miracle that he was alive unscathed. The firefighters bought every bit of his facade and sent him to the hospital, offering him their thoughts and prayers that he will recover.
While waiting for the doctor at the hospital, Nico was left unsupervised since there was nothing urgent about his conditions (in fact, there was nothing at all to his condiiton). With no one to watch him, he slipped out and left to go find his next big adventure- keeping a mental note to stick with take-out from now on. | 2020-08-21T14:48:59 | 2020-08-21T13:53:48 | 34 | 12 |
[WP] A rare herb that grows once a millenium is said to grant immortality. You aren't sure about that but you do know that herb is very tasty, and you don't know why everyone keeps trying to raid your garden once every thousand years | "I just don't get it, Lenore," I told the merchant next to me at the market. "They came into my garden, tore up my herbs, and stole my Silphium! What could they even want with it? They've come up with much better medicine than that by now! Can't they just go see their doctor?"
Lenore looked at me with a weary sigh, "Oh, Dee, not again. For goodness sake. It's the same thing every millennium. I swear, I don't know what goes on in these people's heads!"
"I would share with them if they asked!" I said. "Why do they have to be so violent about it?! I mean, it's tasty, but it's not worth all that."
"I'm with you on that," Lenore said. "You know I've never had a taste for it."
"I guess we'll never know," I said.
Lenore agreed with me, sadly shaking her head.
I pulled myself out of my thoughts, putting a smile back on my face. "Anyway, did you want to share some of my Lepidodendron tea? It's certainly not selling."
I looked across my booth. Once again, all that was left was the delicious tea that looked and smelled so off-putting that I can't remember ever selling any. Their loss, I guess. It really is the most delicious tea I've ever tasted.
"Oh, dear, you know I'd never pass that up. Always warms me right up, it does."
So as the market died down, we sat and shared tea and conversation. For us it had become a long-time tradition. | I consider myself a master gardener. I also consider myself a loner. I moved to the mountains to make sure that I wouldn’t have to see too many people. Sure, my friends can come and have dinner, that’s nice. But it only happens once a decade. Otherwise, I enjoy gardening, reading, and tending to my animals. They’re such sweet things. And all of us have been blessed with very long lives. It is a delight to see my friends, but, you see, people who are not my friends come around sometimes. And they like to stomp in my flowers, tear the roots from the ground, eat the leaves as if they were ambrosia-soaked roasts. I don’t understand them, why they would hike up this mountain to disturb an old woman. I truly like to think I am a kind person, and if they would just ask, I would be so, so happy to share with them. My grandchildren often eat things from my garden, when they visit. But those visits have gotten rare.
Even if the nuisance isn’t that much, sure, it only happens every millennium or so, it is still a nuisance, and a woman like me, with blood like mine, well I can’t much bear it. Which is why I got the bear. And oh, what a sweetheart she is. I named her Susie. She’s a very smart bear. She helps me get around the house when my bones get tired, and she’ll even help me cook sometimes. I hear she’s Harvard educated. At least, that’s what she tells me.
She’s also an ex-marine, which can come in handy when I need trenches dug for my garden, as she had very large bear muscles. And it is so much fun to watch her dig, even if my eye sight is going. I let her eat anything in my garden that she wanted, and she grew even stronger. So when they came again, in the night, they were surprised to find a bear, a very smart bear. Susie was quick with them. She growled at them, to warn them off, but when they brandished knives, well, she had to show them she meant business. I’m very glad that I have a deal with a local merchant to come up every year or so. Last year he brought us some new things, small stuff, like brandy, books, and an AK-47. At the time, I thought Susie was just bored, looking for something to cure that itch in her to unleash her bear instincts. She told me that she was never that fond of paw-to-hand combat. She preferred things nice and dirty.
And now, when they come, when they want to stomp on my flowers and tear out the roots and eat the leaves, she takes care of them. And I roll over when I hear the shouts and the shots. She’s an awfully smart bear, you know. I trust she can take care of both herself and my garden.
r/AinsleyAdams | 2021-02-09T10:34:28 | 2021-02-09T09:30:12 | 25 | 18 |
[WP] the galaxy is already populated by humans. earth is an isolated uncontacted tribe who's first ancestors got stranded on earth and had to start over from square one with no technology. | "That's one hundred credits you owe me, Cyril."
"How's that?" the other old man replied.
"The bet on the crap world in the lower spiral arm."
"Wait, the no technology death world? No way."
"Oh year. And get this, they finished up 40,000 years early."
"What? But what about the glaciers and the tectonics? There were volcanos and and an asteroid belt ready to drop some hate at any time as I recall. There's no way they should have gotten out of that, let alone shaved 40 millennia off their time."
"Well, what can I say, we're resilient little bastards. Admittedly, they caught a couple breaks. They focused on agriculture early and the worst of the asteroids missed them until they had the tech base to deal with them. That allowed the requisite number of geniuses to pile up until last week they hit FTL travel."
"Well I'll be a monkey's uncle."
"We all are, Cyril. We all are. Now how about we spend that 100 credits at the place with the good views and the better whiskey."
"I'll drink to that." | Humanity was pretty disappointed when it turned out that the mysterious visitors from outside the Solar System were God Damn humans. Maybe it was myopic to expect the first civilization humans ran into to be mysteriously mammalian alien babes. Perhaps it was presumptuous to presume they'd find an honourable but gruff warlike species to be our friends, but come on.
Humans imagined the stars and then found Dave from accounting up there. Dave from accounting was fine, but he was both uncreative and the most mundane example of a human someone could use. Offence intended Dave.
At first, it had been an annoyance, a vague 'Oh, you're different than I expected.' The kind of reaction reserved for first dates when someone had been ambitious with the Instagram filters on their tinder profile. Eventually, that vague disappointment morphed into resentment and resentment bred the single conclusion for Flat-Earthers and people who wanted a more exciting space.
Those human bastards were probably hiding the cool aliens from Earthlings.
All of the mundane lifestyles and snore-worthy lectures humans got about the stars were a ruse. A ploy so that the new humans -Newmans- could horde all of the cool aliens to themselves. It made sense, if someone had access to all of the cool aliens, why would they bother sharing with someone? Humans were barely willing to share a meal, let alone sick sci-fi bullshit.
The Earthlings hatched a plan, simple but devious. They would kill their newly acquired planet-mates for being late on the rent, and take off into the stars on their ship, finding all the Flash Gordon fun they ever could on the way, after all, they'd been looking for an excuse to leave their hometown for years, how different could a planet be?
Once the humans were on the ship, they did the obvious thing and headed to the first planet that was marked as illegal. After all, if Dave from Accounting: The Race was hiding something, they would have tried to hide it under red flags and tape. Daves listened to that kinda bullshit.
There were humans on the illegal planet too! What a ripoff. They were all just a little bit different from Dave though, pushier, more demanding.
The humans from Earth didn't realize what they'd done until it was too late. They'd been delighted when the new-new-humans ordered them to 'Take me to your leader' because it had at least been a sci-fi reference.
Of course, 'Take me to your leader' is the Sci-Fi version of 'I need to speak to the Manager.' | 2021-06-09T01:29:04 | 2021-06-09T01:26:08 | 219 | 107 |
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there. | "Hey, I need you to tell me what Excelsior just bought."
"What?"
"I just saw him in here. He had a pretty huge bag. What did he get?"
"I have no idea. I'm just stocking shelves."
Praxis looks back over his shoulder like he's being followed. I don't buy it. Nobody follows Praxis. Not even on social media.
"Come on, man. You probably just stocked it. What'd he get? Couldn't have been potions. Was it nanobots?"
"Why are you even asking me this? You know it's against policy."
"Oh! A nanobot printer! Like those 3D printers. But for nanobots."
"I know what they are."
"You even have them on sale!"
"I put the stickers up."
"It was a nanobot printer, wasn't it?"
"You can't ask me these questions. You've had three warnings."
"Holy shit. Who do you think you are?"
He has no idea I'm trying to help him. Yeah, I just got hired. I also do my homework. Try to make sure I know a thing or two.
"Some kind of stock-boy, standing up to ME?! Damn, man. You know I'm Praxis, right? Solely responsible for taking out half of City Hall?"
He held potions for Akathisium while she did it, but sure. I ignore him. I keep stocking the shelf.
"I swear, I *have* to beat Excelsior next time. Or Akathisium's never gonna notice me."
Shelf doesn't stock itself. Up go the quantum circuitboards. Half off this week. Not bad—I might grab some myself. Real good price with my employee discount.
"I need this, man. Just tell me what he bought and I'll go away."
I turn and stare him down.
"You do not need this. You need to go back to your pocket dimension and practice beating Excelsior a million million times by proxy. That's what you're good at. Taking shortcuts isn't a praxis for experience. It also isn't the Praxis experience. So leave it alone, please."
"Hey, that's pretty good!"
"Thank you."
"Shame I'm about to kill you. Otherwise, I'd give you credit for it."
"... Excuse me?"
"I'm done with people disrespecting me. Plus, I don't even know how you know about the pocket dimension. You're done, stock-boy. Prepare to d—"
It didn't come up in the interview, but when I erase all knowledge of someone from existence, that also includes surveillance records and memories. So that's why you have an incident of unauthorized use of power in the store, but no camera footage, and no record of his previous incidents. He had three warnings followed by a death threat, so I took immediate action. I hope this is a sufficient explanation.
... No, sir. I don't know why they assume the employees aren't also supers.
... Yes, sir. I could do a lot with unlimited power over knowledge. Trust me, working part-time here is just easier.
... Gnosis, sir. You need me to spell it for the form? Sure. G-N-O-S-I-S.
... Praxis, sir. P-R-A-X-I-S.
... Praxis. P-R-A-X-I-S.
... It's okay, sir. I know you're going to have a difficult time remembering him. I'm prepared to tell you as many times as you need. | Not everybody knew about the Super-Mart, but everybody who knew it would definitely not recommend it to anybody else—because friend or foe, inexpensive super supplies are in short supply.
For a stranger passing by, attracted by the always present banner that read “CLOSING SALE,”, one would walk in through the door, notice that it looked like a gaudy outfit store for Halloween with suspiciously tights fits, and leave before the bell finish its ringing. The ones that actually stayed, furtively went about their business, discreetly testing the proper colours and tools without revealing their shtick. Because that was what all heroes and villains were about, no?
At least, that’s what new summer hire lanky Toby, 15 years old, felt to be the truth. There was the required long pants—black chinos. Nondescript t-shirt—just the one logo of Sword Savant. And the optional staring at each customer, a hawk with uncomfortably bulging eyes.
“That has to be Gentlemanbird,” Toby muttered, watching a rotund man, holding a red and black outfit.
“Kid, what the hell are you doing?”
Toby swung back, and noticed the much older (by two years) Jeanette sidle up to him. She briefly glanced down at the notepad, and nodded grimly.
“I’m sorry to say, Toby, but your superpower is apparently poor handwriting,” Jeanette said.
“That’s private,” Toby sulked.
“Yeah, is that not a memo you got from working here? All these people are private, doofus,” Jeanette lightly punched his arm. “Don’t go trying and figure out their identities.”
“And why not?” Toby argued. “It’s good research.”
“I’ll add on to your superpower. Hypocrisy,” Jeanette sighed. “Besides, I’ve already tried. It’s no use, honestly.”
“You’ve already tried?”
“I’ve been coming back every summer. Good money, compared to other temp jobs. And once, I’m pretty sure I rang the purchases of Fire Falcon before she got real famous, you know,” Jeanette said.
“No, what do you mean you’ve already tried?” Toby said.
“Oh. Maybe not try? But it’s inevitable, working at a store like this, to guess at who they are,” Jeanette sighed. “You’ll be surprised at how much and how little you can glean. There’s a code name out there on the streets. There’s a code name in costume. And there’s a code name in here.”
“You mean that guy’s not really Garrett?”
“100 percent no. And don’t count out some of them have shapeshifting abilities. Or go through a friend. Or enemy, really. That, I learned.”
“Enemy? You mean…”
“Yeah,” Jeanette said. “Sure, you get to the top, and it’s more black and white. But here? It’s all grey.”
Toby looked out at the sparse people perusing Super-Mart’s wares. It kind of made sense. This was the only place in town cheap and close enough for many of these people. Did friend or foe really matter when they were all struggling to get by?
“So what do you want all that info for,” Jeanette asked. “Stalk them?”
“No!” Toby blushed. “I was… doing research. On how to be a hero.”
“You want to be a hero?” Jeanette chuckled. “Then be sure to use your employee discount, yeah?”
“I’m not so sure any more,” Toby sighed.
“It’s not a crime to harbour dreams.” Jeanette pat his shoulder. “Why do you want to be a hero?”
“To do good,” Toby whispered. “Sounds silly now.”
“Villains can do good too, you know,” Jeanette nodded knowingly. “They are sort of, like, investigative journalists. They do the ugly stuff sometimes, but they can uncover even uglier stuff.”
“As long as the hero finds them and beats them up?”
“You’re getting it. It’s a push and pull,” Jeanette said. “It’s not easy. It’s not honest work, maybe. But it’s true, and probably more fun.”
Toby stood still, and studied his shift partner for a bit. He wasn’t quite sure what to conclude, and realized that research might not be his strong suit—but found Jeanette rather convincing, and far too practised for this to be an off-the-cuff pitch. Enough to shake a bit of his belief, definitely.
He looked back at the store. The existence of a place like this lent credence to her theory.
“It’s not… one side versus one,” he said. “There’s no winning or losing. The fight needs to go on. That’s what keeps the story going.”.
“Good thinking, wannabe hero,” Jeanette said. “Welcome to Super-Mart, and enjoy your stay—but hopefully, not for too long.”
---
r/dexdrafts | 2021-10-03T12:21:35 | 2021-10-03T11:42:55 | 1,256 | 112 |
[WP] When someone dies, the afterlife they go to is determined by WHERE they died. Dying in Scandinavia sends the soul to Valhalla or Hel, but dying in Greece lands them in the Underworld, and so on. You have just died in Antarctica. | When I woke up, I was surrounded by snow.
" What...? Did I survive...? "
On our trip to Antarctica, I had been caught in a awful unexpected snowstorm.
I had caught my leg in a ditch, and unable to move, I asked my friends to leave me behind, but...
" I... I can't believe I survived...! "
" Sadly, you're wrong. Young man. "
A middle aged man wearing some kind of fur suit stepped up to me.
" Sorry to inform you, this is the afterlife. "
" Wha...? This can't be right. I never thought the afterlife was this... snowy. "
I could see penguins waddling around in the distance. I could also see a bunch of people walking towards me.
" Do you have a religion? Christianity? Catholic? "
" I'm an atheist... "
" Well than. There actually is an afterlife. Right here. But the gods you know don't exist here. "
" So... there's no Jesus? "
" Jesus could probably be around somewhere in this world. But not here sadly. You're destined to stay here forever. "
I couldn't believe it. It sounded like bullshit. I mean, an after life with cuddly seals and penguins?
" Name's Robert Falcon Scott. Me and my men were the first to come here. "
" I thought the guy who came to Antarctica first was- "
Robert looked pissed. He straighten his clothes up and cut my words away.
" Yes I damned know that. Amundsen, isn't it. I was the first to die here. Came to this place with no one but my guys. "
" Oh. All right. Than why is it so... empty out here. "
" Well... I guess this land is a clean space. No person before us could even live here because it's a giant ice block. And probably because of that it became a place with no kind of religious influence here. "
He suddenly pushed me to the ground.
"Hey! Why are you... "
I stopped and realised something awful. Robert had a sad smile on his face.
" See son. You dont feel any kind of coldness here. Or any kind of pain for that matter. "
He was right. I was wearing my favorite jeans and T-shirt, but I couldn't feel any cold or pain at all. Only the soft feeling of burshing against snow and the fact that it was cool.
" Well, it isn't that bad here. Not having a god means... we can do anything at our will. "
The ground before us shook, and we were inside of an cosy looking living room, live fireplace and everything.
" Want some tea? Or coffee? The more recent people mostly preferred coffee. "
I thought of a hot cocoa, and without me realizing it, I was holding one in my hands.
Robert smiled at me, sipping some green tea.
" Fast learner eh? You can will most things into existance and manipulate most things... except for things that others have made or actually manipulating other people. "
" Wow. This is... kind of too much to handle. "
" Think of it as a bonus chance at life. You could try, do, feel all the things in life. And when you could do everything you wanted and just want everyting to stop... "
He paused, a depressed look in his eyes. Something in his eyes told me he had seen a lot of people disappear.
" Never mind. Well, now that we're done, let me entroduce you to the community. "
" Theres an entire community??? "
" Yes. We are only a few though. Come follow me. I'll show you up to the rest of the guys. "
As Robert left, I had a feeling that this place... isn't going to be that half bad. | All I could see was deep darkness. All I could feel was biting cold. All I could hear was howling wind. Time felt irrelevant. Had it been one day? A thousand? Where was I? I tried to move, but felt nothing at all. I tried to speak, but found I could not. All I could do was think, and feel. Where was I? What happened? Vague memories filled my mind, as though I was looking at a movie through a smoke screen. Blurred, like a piece of abstract art, all I could know where distant feelings that felt as though they belonged to someone else, but they were mine. A small, prefab building? Snow, and more cold? Two people, a man and a woman. Who are they, what were their names? I tried to know, but the more I tried the further away I was. What happened? All I could feel was cold, stark, burning cold. Most of all I felt tired. So very tired. Nothing seemed real anymore, but the howling winds and the freezing cold. Perhaps I should lay down, and stop thinking so hard. It was tough to do so anyway, and what was the point?
I heard something in the wind, something faint. What was it? I heard it again, what is it? A name? Someone shouting in the distance. It sounds like, Ezekiel. Clouds of colors depicted someone marching across a vast expanse of snow and ice. I think I'll see where this goes, before going to sleep. They trudged across the snow, yelling, over and over. There was someone else, too, doing the same. Ezekiel, they called. Must be someone they lost, I thought. Then one of them fell to their knees, and started digging in the snow. How horrible, my heart went out to them. Whoever this Ezekiel fellow was, he certainly had some good friends. Oh well. The person grabbed the corpse in the snow, and I felt hands grab my shoulders.
Who's there? I tried to say, tried to speak, but I found I could not. What is this place? Nothing but cold and wind, I wish it would all stop. Perhaps if I laid down for a little bit, I might find a break from it all. Just as I was about to rest, I saw a faint light. I thought to move closer, but I remembered I could feel nothing at all. What a strange, funny thing to happen, to want to move but not be able to. Suddenly, I found myself closer to the light. How did that happen? No matter. The flickering light constantly fought back the darkness in its own strange dance. It looked almost like fire. It was warm near it. The cold still stung, but the fire helped. Who's fire was this? I felt like someone else was here, though I could neither see nor hear them. If I could call out to them I would. Did they light this fire?
Now that I see it closer, there's no base, no fuel. Just the fire, floating, in the air. Though it flickered, it did not seem affected by this accursed howling wind. Where did it come from anyways, the wind? What a silly question, it came from... What? I thought I knew, but the idea of even knowing evades me. I thought to follow or chase the wind, but the fire here was warm, and the rest of this place, cold. If only there was some sort of shelter, to hide against this wind, with this fire in it, to fight off the cold, then maybe this place wouldn't be so bad. I suppose I'll just have to make do. There was never anything else but this howling and cold, this fire itself is a respite from that. Wait, no, that's not right. Some obscure feeling tugged at the back of my mind, that there was more than this, but that's not possible. That thought too quickly slipped from my mind. The fire was just a bit warmer, I thought. Did someone throw in some wood? What even was wood? The fire was nice and warm, but I couldn't stop thinking of this incessant howling. It seemed to be coming from somewhere, it must be. I should leave this fire and find out, but I could not move.
Then, suddenly, the fire was further away, shrinking until even the light was gone. Just darkness and cold again. The howling grew louder, louder, and louder, but no matter how loud it grew I could never find the source. It was now a scream, less than a howl, with how loud it was. It sounded like a familiar scream. A wisp of a face crossed my mind. Who was that? It sounded as though I knew them. Did I ever know anything but this cold and darkness? Ideas and thoughts drifted across my mind, but it was like trying to see something in the way the light bounced across the bottom of a murky canal. This was all that ever existed, and yet I felt that at some time, some point, something else did. How long had I been here? Minutes? Hours? Years? It did not matter. I was cold and tired and the wind was howling. I ought to close my eyes and sleep. Perhaps then I can forget about the dark, the cold, the wind, and the pain. | 2021-11-25T05:13:24 | 2021-11-25T05:01:51 | 145 | 56 |
[WP] “Humans are so weak, the best weapons they have are tiny, dull claws!” “That’s why they build weapons.” “They do what now?” | asked Karth, the new recruit to the border guard. He and Claw-Leader Tovath patrolled along the palisade that stretched clear across the valley, covering the southern exit of the human reservation.
"What do you mean, they build weapons?" he asked again. Tovath sighed and pinched his snout between two fingers. "Listen, rookie, all of you come here and expect that these hairless apes are just going to run away, but they don't." he gestured at the cleared space before the forest edge. "They've survived on this planet for hundreds of thousands of years, on a world that in many ways actively tries to kill them. They worked out pretty early on how to enhance those 'dull claws' by putting a rock in them".
"and when you need to hit something with a rock that's further away than you can throw it, or it's too big for a small rock to damage? well they work out ways of making bigger rocks go further" he jabbed a finger at a number of distressingly large rocks that looked like they'd skidded to a halt just short of the wall.
"That's what they do! We rose up after electricity died and took away their clothes, their guns, their technology, and they just make primitive versions of the same things, in fact.."
He was cut off as a whooshing sound came from the treeline, he grabbed Karth and hauled him below the wall as a shattering noise sounded and then hundreds of tiny impacts thudded into the wood. Torvath looked over. "Oh, oh that's just great, now they've worked out that slate is like shrapnel..." | Title: The change
"Humans are weak" - One of the oldest known facts in the entire universe.
They lack armored skin, horns, fangs… so much so that their claws are tiny and flat.
So, it was nothing new when krrik and blad sat together with their snacks and were making fun of humans. Then, out of nowhere, their not so smart friend; dauf came running on all sixes and crashed next to them… They were annoyed but they had nowhere else to be. “Another snack time going to be wasted listening to dauf’s unintelligent and needy stories” was the common thought running through both their distributed yet connected brains. Dauf caught his breath and said at once “Humans have been making weapons and vehicles going into space, the council has decreed to convene at once and decide on when to declare war on humans’ planet, come let’s go quickly” and grabbed a jelly like limb of blad’s snack to shove into his bottom mouth. Krrik pulled his snack closer and composed himself to just say “They’re making what now!!!?” All the three started running to the vast hall of the elders to see what was going on.
It was pandemonium there. Everyone was worried. Many elites had already started the hiring process for their private armies to go to war against the humans. Citizens were huddled in groups discussing in hushed tones. The council itself was trying to calm everyone. All the council members were ordering their troops to calm their people. The leader was trying to connect to the planet’s conscience to look for advice. All the three joined their respective troops while hurriedly trying to finish their snacks.
The planet boomed through each council member at once “HUMANS ARE WEAK”. The whole vast hall erupted into cackles and screeches of laughter again. “BUT ONLY IN BRUTE STRENGTH” boomed the collective intelligence once again. “WHAT THEY LACK IN BRUTE FORCE, THEY MAKE UP FOR IN GENIUS AND CREATIVITY. THEY HAVE BEEN BUILDING WEAPONS FOR INDIVIDUAL AS WELL AS MASS WARFARE THROUGHOUOT THE PAST MILLENIA. IF WE GO TO WAR WITH THEM NOW, WE SHALL LOSE” said, the planet.
Everyone’s face fell and the murmurs started rising again. The leader bowed to no one in particular and asked “Then shall we make peace with them?”
The vast hall shook while everybody tried to hang on to what ever they could find.
“PEACE IT SHALL BE” said the planet and everything became silent once again.
Krrik and blad looked at each other and ran to their master elite, Eglaf. She looked at them inquisitively. They both said in unison, “we want to be on your journey to the humans’ planet”. She looked at them with intent and then an evil grin spread across her face showing her inner mandibles. She said to them “arm up, we the glats are never the ones to make peace. We shall strike first”. Their faces lit up as they were running out of the vast hall and into the armory.
They would be having a war of their lifetimes…. For all they knew. | 2021-12-02T00:07:43 | 2021-12-01T21:25:03 | 38 | 26 |
[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed. | >**REFRACTED WORLDS**
Resting soundly, I was shocked awake by a brutal slap across the face.
"Ow! What the hell?!" I shouted into the darkness of my room.
"You're *twisted*, you know that?!" Came a somewhat familiar voice.
I turned on a light.
At the foot of my bed was a young man- he was of average height, broad shoulders, tan skin, long, black hair, and scars adorned his arms. I knew this face- because I'd been designing it for years.
"Silas." I breathed.
"Yes, Silas, you prick." Silas huffed. "I put in so much effort to come meet God and it's *you*? And what's with the way you keep interfering in my life?"
"Ah, yeah, sorry...well, sort of."
Silas glowered.
"Look- your world exists for a reason. *You* exist for a reason. There is a reason why you must rise up, face the challenges you face, and endure what you endure."
"What is the reason, then?" He asked.
"Do you remember when you lost Somnus? When your brother fled, and left you behind?"
"Of course." Silas was gritting his teeth. Bad memory.
"That feeling of being left behind- well, the other Creators, the other people like me- a lot of them have felt this way, and not always do they have someone to share their feelings with. You eventually meet Tijn, you eventually meet the Wild Pilgrim, and you find a home. A community. The pain you endured carries you into healing, and with every twist and turn, you grow stronger, and the people around you grow, too. A lot of Creators, like myself, are isolated. We are alone. But- when we make worlds like yours, you can serve as a...how do I say this-"
"We're a bandage."
"Sort of, yeah. Our world is harsh, and our powers are very limited. Creating other worlds doesn't usually impact the world we reside in. Our world is war-torn, riddled with plagues and selfishness and cruelty. We give you, our creations, the power to change their surroundings, the ability to overcome the odds...and doing so gives us comfort."
"You give us that which you cannot possess."
"Yes. There isn't very much I can control in my life. I may lose my job tomorrow, a friend to disease the next day, my mother, father, anything- and there isn't anything I can actually do about it. But you- you have healing magic, and strength, and a clever mind. You can give me, and my readers, a kind of...catharsis."
Silas grimaced. "You underestimate not only yourself, but your kin."
"I don't think you understand, Silas. Every system in our world is broken, and every broken system is so ingrained that we don't have a way to overturn it, like steel beams buried so deeply in the earth, they may as well be coming from the molten core of the planet itself."
"Yet, here you are, crafting the stories that bring happiness to many."
"A brief reprieve from a life of darkness. A small candle in a winter's storm. Nothing grand."
"You write of overcoming struggle, yet fail to see that you *are* struggling. You write of the way you wish things were, you share your perspective, your imagination could nourish your community."
"All the writing in the world won't make magic real."
"No? Then how is it I am standing before you?" Silas grinned- but not kindly, more like he was making fun of me.
"You are a foolish creator. Take the lesson that you would have me learn, and apply it to yourself. Struggle. A battlefield can become a garden, so long as you never stop trying."
-------------------------------------------------
r/nystorm_writes | \[Norilsk, Siberian Bunker - Former Russian Federation 2066.\]
"General Karov, What you are speaking of is madness!" the vaguely Russian advisor gasped while slowly reaching for his holstered revolver.
"You will betray me too Yuri? like so many have before?" Karov remarks while looking out through a blast proof window to see a seemingly endless field of damaged planes from a recent armed conflict.
Yuri draws his gun and aims it at Karov. "This is for Moscow, and all of mankind" The advisor opens fire as three rounds find their mark deep in the chest of the tyrannical despot. As the blood stained uniformed hit the ground with the metallic bang from self given military medals a faint laugh is heard from a dying Karov.
Karov: "To little........to...late"
Yuri walks over to the injured general and sees he's gripping a familiar object. "NO NO NO..." As he franticly tries to look away both Karov and Yuri are sent through time and space to seemingly random locations.
Well that's a good ending to chapter 9, Makena says to herself while closing the google doc on her computer. She gets up from her desk and approaches her Keurig coffee machine, while selecting the option of a medium hot mocha she gazes outside of her small studio apartment in Brooklyn.
Makena: "shit five years in college to become a writer and I'm still barely making it by. my mom was right, I should have just married that rich guy from high school." She turns her view away from her newest bank statement on the counter.
As she showers a thought catches her mind, perhaps she can ask the local newspaper if they need any freelance work done. After finishing up in the bathroom, changing into pajamas she returns to bed to find her window slightly open. A brief moment of confusion passes as she grabs a golf club and stealthily makes her way into her lit kitchen. Where she is met with a mysterious figure sitting at her desk with it's feet up while chugging back on a bottle of fancy white wine.
"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE!" Makena screams while pointing her golf club out in a forward position mimicking a rapier.
The unamused figure takes a swig of wine before revealing himself to be Yuri. "For someone that wrote a fictional character with a borderline alcoholic trait I'd assume you'd have a better taste in liquor. What is this anyway, Oaked Chardonnay? Yuri says while reading the side of the bottle.
Makena sets the end of the golf club down while still holding the handle tightly. "It was on sale and it's just for occ.....wait why am I defending myself.... WHO ARE YOU!"
Yuri sets the bottle down while pulling out his wallet with a Russian ID card. "I'm FSB triple agent Yuri Brez."
Makena drops the golf club as shock freezes her in place.
Makena: "you...you... your a fictional character,... how is this possible."
Yuri: "A fascinating story we unfortunately don't have time for, you read the NYT paper this morning?" He askes while sliding it across the kitchen counter.
Makena looks at the front page as a picture of a young Russian general is shown amassing soldiers on the Ukrainian border. her confusion is interrupted by Yuri "Russian government set to cede more judicial power to General Alexey Karov following his successful border skirmish against Ukrainian forces last week"
Makena: "that's just... weird, I don't understand.
Yuri: \*lighting up a ciguar\* " Remind me, Makena. In your novel, where I'm from...... what event leads to the destruction of my planet?"
Makena: "the.... the dead mans switch nuclear protocol"
Yuri: "correct, now what events lead to the use of the dead mans switch nuclear protocol?"
Makena: \*her eyes widen as she struggles to maintain composure while pouring herself a cup of wine\* "The event that led to the use of the nuclear protocol was.... the Second Russian Civil War"
Yuri: "correct...... now what event would lead to the social and global conditions that caused this civil war?" Yuri walks to an open kitchen window and tosses his cigar out after only a few puffs.
Makena: \*sitting in a chair at this point\* "The second Russian civil war is the final stage of the Third World War"
Yuri: "Once again you are correct, now wh..." yuri is interrupted by Makena
"The third world war is a result of a decade long escalation in the Russo-Europa War of 2024." Makena says while dropping the empty bottle on the floor.
Yuri: "And.... how does the Russo-Europa war start?"
Makena: "A rouge Russian general invades the Ukraine and upon ceding control over to the Moscow government he is elected by the state duma as chief General before eventually becoming a de facto totalitarian dictator using emergency war time powers"
Yuri: "and finally, what was the name of that de facto totalitarian dictator that is responsible for all these conflicts, escalations and wars?"
Makena: "Alexey Karov"
Yuri hands Makena a plane ticket to Moscow, upon seeing her confusion he relents "Pack your things, we're going to Russia." | 2021-12-11T18:25:56 | 2021-12-11T17:41:14 | 287 | 61 |
[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life. | Antonine had never intended for any of this to happen. What kind of monster would? No, the ritual that sacrificed an entire city was supposed to be a death repelling barrier, that is what the ancient scrolls said, but apparently death repelling did not mean keeping the undead out.
For centuries Antonine had been trapped in the aftermath of a necromancer scourge, and every time they killed him, he would reawaken at the moment the ritual had been completed. The moment his wife and children, who had been in the inner circle of the ritual dropped dead.
The first hundred times he'd found himself in this room, looking at his wife's glassy eyes staring at him, it was a pain so deep he wanted to die. He even tried to make it happen on more than one occasion, so he might join his family beyond the veil. But sadly, that just meant he had to return even sooner.
The following hundred times resulted in him being brutally murdered by the undead horde, but after looping back so many times killing a few thousand skeletons was like taking a stroll in the park.
But now was different. Antonine was an old man, wise and powerful beyond compare. He'd mastered spells thought impossible to learn and devised rituals that could finally break the cycle. He could not return the life energy from the sacrificed he'd used, the god of death would not allow for such a theft, but he could return what had yet to be taken. Millenia of years would be returned to his people.
But more than that, his wife and children, their voices which he'd long since forgotten would fill the halls. Gulping his nervousness down, he made the cut letting his life flow out as he channeled it in a ritual so complicated not even a hundred other mages could perform it together.
Antonine closed his eyes which had become so heavy. It was satisfying to know that the barrier would even be raised as intended. If only he...
The world grew dark and he felt the fabric of time warp around him. It was surprising that he'd returned, that wasn't supposed to happen. Antonine expected to see the same horrifying sight of his wife, but instead she was alive. She was screaming and crying, but that didn't matter, she was finally alive.
"Don't you dare die, I need you my love."
'So that is what her voice sounded like.' Antonine thought before the world went dark and silent. | The loop was started for scientific reasons, to see if we could learn from different “timelines” in the infinity chambers.
Every person is unique; each person could give different outcomes to any moment in time and change a thousand different things. So imagine if we used AI to learn from those thousand different outcomes. The many unique technologies that could come to life, the philosophical ideas that could help shape our future.
People often feel scattered throughout time, like they were given a lottery ticket with a date and that's all they are to experience. Well, that was a thing of the past. as technology accelerated creating more ease on human life, people become somewhat useless.. robots commanded by quantum AI could work 10 times harder and faster than any outstanding human in any field. Cutting millions of jobs in an unexpected mass extinction event
Nobody expected So many people to have no purpose, to feel so lost and lonely in a vast ocean of technology. Well, one company was waiting and working on such an outcome. AI revival - relive and recreate the past present and future in virtual reality. they would put these people in certain situations and pay them for finding new ways to live, survive, create and mostly endure our new future.
At first, this went great. they discovered new medicines, new ways to look at ourselves and where we belonged In our small lonely place in the universe. But something else happened, people found ways to do things they shouldn't have. They found new ways to be evil.
Somehow they prolonged their stay in the infinity chambers, although the name may seem like they could stay forever they were meant to stay for only a short time. Time was altered in these chambers with a mix of drugs and electrical pulses in the brain. They would fast forward these virtual worlds to collect the data faster while using drugs and AI brain interfaces to accelerate the reaction time of the brain.
This was great, they could live out hundreds of years in hours with this technology. But the human brain was not meant to handle such a load, to bear all that weight. AI revival knew this, they did everything they could to make sure no one was lost or rendered braindead from their work. But somehow people found ways to get lost where they shouldn't have.
At first it was only a few, only a few had died from using the infinity chambers. Some blamed heart attacks, some blamed the users past and many blamed the company. That didn't stop millions from lining up and finding out for themselves what was hidden in these worlds. I must say I was one of them, at first it scared me but the people who came out of them were completely changed afterward. They were happy with life, with what they found and what lives they lived in there. I had to find out for myself
When I entered in I acted oblivious to their questions about death in the chambers, I told them I had never heard of them and only wanted to learn and grow with the machines. This made them happy, I was like any other useful idiot out there.
They choose where you go and when, they wipe your memory so you fit in better but they give you specific memories so you comply with the timelines. When you learn more and level up their technologies they give you achievements and reminders so you want to come back. well nobody wants to go back after becoming a king, nobody wants to wake up when they fall in love.
For me it was different, the AI made me suffer.. Made me want to die from the day I arrived there. I was led from misery to loneliness repeatedly, only once as I was on the brink of death I was reminded of why I was here, of who I was facing. I had to win, I had to show that humans were better than machines no matter what name you gave them. I had to show them that they were not gods.
I told myself I was suffering for the greater good, to learn everything I could while I was here. I needed to learn everything before ending my loop and returning to the real monster | 2022-01-25T00:35:16 | 2022-01-24T23:08:12 | 86 | 12 |
[WP] A swordsman fights stronger and stronger monsters in hopes of killing himself, but keeps winning. He soon develops a reputation as a hero, all the while drowning in self-loathing and the darkness that threatens to consume his soul. | They keep coming for me.
I don't seek them out. Not anymore. I have no intention of winning.
And yet..........
Each time.........
The latest monster lay at my feet. It's body writhing in agony. My eyes welled up with tears. I quickly blinked them away. Cannot let the stupid child see me this way.
I was sure this beast would be the end of me. I was almost defeated when I spotted the little one with his leg tragically stuck under some rocks. I threw my sword to the side recklessly and dove to save him.
I turned around to see my sword wedged square in the monsters chest.
I win again
Won't it ever stop..........
All this is a punishment, isn't it? I have been cursed by the gods.
Many years ago, as a heart broken young lad, I had traveled to a dragon's lair hoping to either become a hero or die trying.
I won......
At what cost......
Here's what no one ever told me.
Taking a life, any life.......Even that of a monster, is no easy thing. It changes a man forever.
And now they keep coming for me.
You see, by slaying the dragon I had made myself a target.
But it isn't just me, though
The villagers suffer everytime one of them attacks. And so I am left with no choice but to fight them.
Everytime, I win
And a part of me dies
Taking a life is no joke. If rips a part of your soul. How long before I have no soul left for judgment day?
The child ran up to his mother
"Mama, the hero saved me!!! " he Squealed.
The villagers cheered
Another ballad in my honor. Who will tell them? I'm no hero. I started this.
Maybe the next one will be the death of me
One can only hope | Not enough.
Oat slipped down the pile of goblin corpses. The green blood burned his skin, but he didn't try to wipe it away. The pain it gave was far preferable to the cheers of the crowd. They didn't rush him, but they formed a circle around him, chanting the same things every town did.
"That was incredible!"
"Thank you!"
Oat didn't react. He let the crowd guide him as it always would, his mind busy with the fight. He was sure that goblin army would be overtake him. They came in the dead of night, and he slaughtered them until daybreak.
"How many?" Oat creaked, his voice hoarse.
"How many?" An older man bellowed. The crowd shouted renewed cheers, as various estimates from a hundred to a thousand roared among them. Oat always went with the lowest estimates, but he was still bewildered. A hundred goblins wasn't enough to kill him? How many would it take?
His side erupted in pain. He sucked in a sharp breath but doubled over in pain. The crowd gasped and laid him on his side, ripping his shirt to check for wounds. The gasps grew louder, as some men started yelling orders. Villagers zipped around him to grab bandages, clean water, and hopefully a meal.
The goblin blood found its way to an open wound. The villagers would clean the wound, then probably force him to bathe to avoid further infection. He wanted to object, but the searing pain was making it hard to stay conscious.
He smiled anyway. Oat couldn't take his own life without committing the ultimate sin, but maybe the goblins were enough. Maybe, after all his hard work, he could finally rest.
His rest lasted about two days. Oat's body recovered after one, but his mind was far from healed. Only on the third day did he manage to convince himself to get out of bed. After a quick prayer for his end, he dressed and found *Knucklebone.* It was the only possession he cared about, even more than his own life.
He stepped out into the street to find a messenger arguing with the loud villager from before. Some kind of village elder? Oat rounded on them, catching the end of the the conversation.
"...it's bad. The worst we've ever seen. The death toll is in the upwards of thousands."
Oat had to stifle his smile by the time he reached the duo.
"Elves in the south?" He guessed, joining the conversation.
The messenger turned to Oat. He seemed momentarily surprised by the his small stature, but made no comment as he ignored the local.
"We aren't sure. There's no way an army could've gotten this far in the country without anyone seeing them. But by the looks of the destruction, the efficiency...I'll be honest, I was sent here to see if you actually came to Martslock. The Empress thought it was you."
An equal. A challenge. Oat's eyes widened with the thought. He had never considered the possibility. He'd been throwing himself at giants, at armies, at dragons and ogres. It was becoming increasingly clear that might nor numbers would be enough to free him from his pain. But an equal? That was the end he was looking for. | 2022-04-30T12:49:26 | 2022-04-30T12:41:50 | 228 | 63 |
[WP] So tell me this, elf. If you're so much better than humans at everything, then how come even though your ancient civilization dates back millenia before we "crawled out of the mud pits", you're still riding around on horses and swinging sharp pieces of metal just like us? | "So tell me this, elf. If you're so much better than humans at everything, then how come even though your ancient civilization dates back millennia before we 'crawled out of the mud pits', you're still riding around on horses and swinging sharp pieces of metal just like us?"
Jarila sped in front of the human, holding her sword to his throat. He didn't even see it coming. "This is why." Stepping back, because who wants to kill without a good fight, she sheathed her sword. "While you have spent most of your lives toiling under the sun, we studied combat for at least 5 times that long. The reason that we stayed with riding around on horses and swinging sharp pieces of metal, as you said, is because we elves, drow, and orcs are all very good at it."
"Unfortunately, your lifespan means that at combat you all are adequate at most. You'll never beat us at anything, especially not archery." The human sighed, shaking his head. "Of course you would say that. Every single one of you elves always think that every non-elf race is inferior—" Jarila cut him off, feeling her anger start to rise. "I never said that." He paid her no mind. "If you actually knew about us, you would know that we don't need to beat you at archery or swordplay."
"What do you even know about combat?!" The elf was starting to lose her temper. This inferior creature before her was just another thorn in her side. She wanted to kill the human, but she was too angry to focus. "You know nothing about killing an elf! The only times we lost our kind to yours was because they were weak or they stumbled! You have nothing that can kill an elf as you're confronting them face to face!"
**BANG.** Jarila felt something rip through her chest. No sword was drawn, so she was confused. Placing a hand on her heart, she noticed her hand came away bloody. "W-what....did you do...?" It was only too late when she saw the man's pepperbox revolver in his hand. "I told you we didn't need to beat you at archery or swordplay." She staggered back, soon collapsing as her legs couldn't support her. As her vision faded, she saw the man's smirk as he crouched over her. And his smirk was the last thing she saw before her vision faded to a dark nothingness and she died. | Elrandir sighed heavily at the human’s remarks. It wasn’t the first time he had heard them – and it certainly wouldn’t be the last – but he was getting tired of them. Did the humans have any idea how hard is to have an elf feel *tired*.
Of course they didn’t. Such hasty and anxious people. Always moving, always working towards something and always striving for something that makes their lives easier.
It took a moment for Elrandir to remember the man’s name. There were just so any of them. “Thommen,” he began, his voice as soft as falling snow on a winter’s day. “You are young. Your race is young. You talk of things you think you know much of, but you lack something critical.”
“And what is that?” the human asked, voice coarse and not at all pleasant to listen to. Elrandir didn’t blame the human for his tone of course, it was simply how humans were.
“Generational knowledge,” he answered, earning a confused look from the human. Again, he sighed. Softly this time, as not to let the human take notice. “For the human race, the knowledge of older generations is lost after one or two hundred years if not preserved properly. We elves live for thousands of years. We remember what it was like all those years ago, before the human race even set foot on our lands.”
“So…” the human began, interrupting Elrandir in the midst of his explanation. “That should mean you’ve had plenty of time for some technological advancements, no? Just look at our cities. Houses for everyone, streets with sewers disposing of our trash, automatic carts that get us from one point to the other without any effort, instant communication through our transmitters… You claim our past wasn’t preserved properly, but what is the need in that if we develop so quickly?”
“And what makes you think we elves have never been through the same advancements?”
The human was stunned for a moment. *Remarkable,* Elrandir noted.
“What do you mean?”
“Long ago, a hundred lifetimes and more for you, we elves thought we could do better. We devised machines to help us perform daily tasks. We produced them en masse, confident we were doing the right thing. It only took ten years before we realized we had made the wrong choice. The world around us, the world we lived in, suffered from our actions. Forests were lost, our air polluted and animals began to leave our stronghold were before they had roamed for centuries.” A tear rolled down Elrandir’s cheek as he recalled those dark days.
“So we made a decision to return to our old ways. We destroyed every single one of our machines, any evidence of them was either melted down or buried somewhere hidden never to surface again. Were it only took ten years to destroy our world, it took much longer to regrow it. We had forgotten our place in this world and we paid a price.”
The human seemed doubtful for a moment, but for what exactly Elrandir could not tell. “You were simply not prepared for the future,” he eventually said. “Your old age allows you to get stuck in the old ways. We humans are different. Just look at our cities. Have you ever seen anything mightier than this?”
He pointed towards the city in the valley. From the hill they stood on, the entirety of it could be seen. Grey buildings with black spires reaching high into the sky, mudded streets packed to the last brim with humans and a river that entered it blue and came out brown. Several spires spit out thick, black clouds into the air.
“Mighty indeed,” Elrandir whispered as the human left, convinced of his own arguments. With tears rolling down and a heart that longed for the so called *old ways*, he turned his back to the stain on the world and walked back into the forest.
How long before the humans would learn their lesson?
---
> Thanks for reading, more over at /r/PromptedByDaddy | 2022-09-04T09:14:44 | 2022-09-04T09:00:03 | 261 | 136 |
[WP] You we’re born with the ability to control fire, but instead of becoming a superhero, you set your sights on a much more attainable goal: You became the worlds greatest firefighter. | There are so many ways a person can use fire. For cooking, heating a home, roasting smores. With super powers to control fire? Everyone usually lands towards one way or another. Becoming the next variation of "the human torch" in true super hero fashion. Or becoming Dabi, the hottest anime fire quirk user. There didn't seem to be any other roles.
But not me. Fire, it's extremely volatile. It takes a lot of effort to put out a fire through mundane means. It's easily the most destructive power any super could have. One wrong move could involve millions of collateral damage and innocent lives destroyed. Supers, villains, anti heroes all actively use their fire. Me? I'm a fire fighter. I put them out.
Which brings me to where I'm standing at the moment. A high rise apartment building in the middle of downtown. A kitchen fire started somewhere up on the 30th floor and was spreading upwards. From what we could determine, everyone on the 29th floors and below had all escaped as their fire doors and sprinklers activated. But the firedoors leading up to the top floors, along with the sprinkler system had malfunctioned and was causing utter chaos and destruction. Where were the fire supers? Not here, that's for damn sure. They used their powers on the daily to set stuff ON fire. They hadn't a clue how to put it out. So here I was, being lifted atop a fire engine ladder as high as it could go.
10 stories. That's it. I'd have to book it up the remaining 19 on foot via the stairs. While i could technically fling myself up the landings like a rocket, i try not to cause more damage to the structure than it's already experiencing. And that amount of fire power required is quite literally explosive. No thank you.
By the time i smash through the fire doors on level 29, I've been informed the fire had spread to the 35th floor. I had to move quickly. I rushed to the room reported to have the fire start in. It was unbearably hot. Grease fire with plenty of fuel to eat and make it hotter. The doorway was little more than a wall of flame at this point. I walked straight in.
The bonus of being a fire power was that we immune to all but the temp of the sun. Or at least none of us had yet attempted to subject ourselves to such heat. I wore no fire suit. No oxygen tank. It would only be a liability in this scenario. In the middle of what had been the kitchen i stood and closed my eyes. And then i drew it all back in.
Every single lick of heat and flame that started from this room i pulled at it with everything i had. Slow at first. Then Tugging harder and harder. targeting all areas. Sliding the raw heat and power beneath my skin towards my heart where i contain the flame and keep gathering it. The ear piece in my ear started to melt so i absentmindedly flicked it out before it got caught in my ear canal... again.
I pull with everything I've got. Calling the fire toward my own inner flame. It's starting to ache now. How much exactly did this fire spread? I'm full on panting and actually *sweating* when i realize something is truly wrong. I'm struggling to keep this in. My heart is beating so fast and it *hurts*. Is this what a heart attack feels like? Still i keep pulling. My muscles begin to quake under the strain. It feels like I've been running marathons across the entire country and back again nonstop. I fall to my knees and take in deep, shaky breaths.
God this *hurts*. And still, i pull. I'm so tired but I'm becoming more angry than anything else. The F is *wrong* with this fire? I'm seething, panting, sweating buckets, and I'm *still* taking it all in. With a great big yank and a purely pissed off roar i twist a big final swath of the flame inside me and pass out. | They knew. Long before that day, they knew, but they didn't say anything. To anyone. Most definitely outside the department. I was just another firefighter to them, albeit a really good one. A special one. I was a brother among brothers and sisters, a friend, a mentor, a savior. I was Sparks. But only among us. Even Chief knew, but he didn't say anything outside the column of steam over a bowl of chili. He didn't want the attention. I didn't want the attention. None of us wanted the attention. We had a job to do. It was our job. Nothing more. We didn't know why, but we knew what.
It was Chili Day. No, firefighters do not eat chili every day. Jeeze, imagine the discomfort of slamming a bowl of chunky spice derivative then getting a long call. You can't just call timeout and head to the locker room to relieve the burn. There's no breaks. There's only the fire. The real fire, the one that eats everything relentlessly. Homes, belongings, lives. The fire that starts from sparks and ends with Sparks.
So yeah, Chili Day. A steaming pot and grumbling bellies. Typical banter, insults and laughter. A growing anticipation shattered by The Sound. It shatters the soul every...damn...time. No matter how many times we hear it the first second is silence of movement. Then the next shatter, the moment. All move all at once. We explode down the pole and down the stairs. The Sound calls us to The Flame. Poor new guy, he has to harvest the chili for later. There's always a later. Not for everyone though. Lucky guy, he will have a later. I envy him, in a way. I have never missed The Flame.
An apartment building, lives over lives over jobs. It's tall. That doesn't mean much, ten floors is twenty is fifty. Buildings are not measured in height, they're measured in time. How long it takes to extinguish The Flame. How long. This one is smoky. That's not good, but could be. Smoke means water, and The Flame doesn't like water. It's bad when it's just The Flame. That's when Sparks hurts the worst.
We got this. Get the ladders up, get the brothers and sisters in. Help the water with the water. More and more water. There's smoke, more and more smoke. That's good. I don't see The Flame. No one sees The Flame. Just keep going.
The Flame is there. No one sees the flame that sparks from my fingertips. No one sees The Flame, because I take The Flame. I take The Flame in and in and in, and the sparks. The sparks go out. Thus the name. Add the water, take The Flame, and the sparks. No one sees. No one but us. And the sparks.
This one isn't too bad. There's no more but smoky. More time, but we got this. I go out for air. Real air, not from a can. I need the cool. I hurt inside. Sparks always hurts, but the cool helps. Thank goodness this was not a bad one. Chief walking towards me. He doesn't smile. He knows. He doesn't say anything, but he knows.
And the world explodes. It goes like the end of the world, but it isn't. Or it could be. Chief and I get back to our feet and look. It's The Flame. THE FLAME. It's everywhere. Brothers and sisters stagger from the smoking mouth of the beast, some with hangers. A hanger speaks, coughs, collapses. Lowered to the ground, gets out a whisper. A sister stands, looks, then to us. "There's kids in there!" The Flame...what have you done?
Chief looks at me. Stunned. I look at Chief. We look. I speak. "I've never taken so much." He looks. I look. There's kids in there.
My coat, shucked, behind me. Joins my helmet. I walk towards the mouth, my gloves slowly revealing my hands. There's no point now. They look. All of them look. I look, at the mouth, at The Flame. I don't feel the heat. I never do. I never have. That was how I knew. And I know now, something different.
"Come on," I say. To the mouth. To The Flame. And it does. I pull, I draw, I take. I TAKE. And the sparks. The Sparks. They see. They all see. But it doesn't matter anymore. I take, I take, I take take take taketaketaketaketake OH MY GOD THE HEAT I FEEL IT MY SOUL. I am Sparks. I Am Sparks. I AM AND YOU ARE MINE THE FLAME YOU SHALL NOT HAVE OUR CHILDREN.
They saw. They all saw. The Flame and the sparks. Sparks. And they told everyone. They told everything. How I looked. How I walked. How I spoke, then I took, then I sparked. The glow, such that no one could see. No one saw the wind take me, my soul. But they still told everyone everything. Not the Chief. Not my brothers and sisters. They didn't say anything. They never had. They never did. They got the kids out. It was their job.
There will be more smoke, more flame. There always is. But not that day. I cannot stop the flames, I am not here anymore. They will take homes, belongings, lives. But not that day. Not The Flame.
I am Sparks. At least, I was. | 2022-12-16T18:34:51 | 2022-12-16T17:55:16 | 70 | 47 |
[WP] Sometime in the future, everything that can kill a human as of today has been cured, yet people still die. What kills them? | We cured cancer. We cured AIDS. Ebola is only a memory. Heart attacks, diabetes, everything. There was celebration. We were heroes. The world gathered in stadiums and concert halls in every city in the world, to watch a special broadcast celebrating our achievement. We offered free food, free beer, free transportation to the event. Our trucks combed every city, gathering every human being up for this celebration. Expensive? Sure. But worth it.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," the broadcast began, "Today we gather to celebrate the eradication of every danger to humanity the world has ever known." Cheers echoed, booming across the world.
"At least that's what they told you."
The sound of locking doors was barely audible over the rabble of humanity, still cheering.
"The truth is, we've eliminated all but one source of suffering and death. Today, we eliminate this last and greatest threat to humanity."
A montage began to play on the screen. Soldiers marching. Death camps from World War II. A mushroom cloud over hiroshima.
It was about this time that the first, more observant humans began to notice the strange, metallic smell in the air.
"There is only one cure," the voice boomed over the video of human-generated death, "only one way to ensure that humankind is safe...forever."
In the laboratory next door, we toasted our achievement with cyanide-laced wine. Our work was finally complete. | Life is boring. I've been alive for over 100 years. So boring. Ever since they cured death everything changed. Production slowed down as people realized that they could take their time on things, they didn't have to rush to make the most of their lives because they literally had all the time in the world. We no longer need to eat, drink, poop, pee or sleep. It was exciting at first, but soon the majority of people had become lazy, including me. Wars ceased to exist because it's hard to fight people when they can't die. It got to the point where it was rare to go outside, as people just lied around all day watching tv/ playing video games or having month long sex escapades. The world stopped caring and became boring. Or so we all thought...
I remember when I first heard the news. News stations had long been shut down as people stopped caring, so it caught my attention immediately. I was on day ten of my non stop netflix marathon when a notification poped up on my iphone54s. *Breaking News: First man to die in over 80 years!* My phone read.
I switched to regular tv and there it was, the first news broadcast in over 30 years. They talked about how his cause of death was completely unknown. "Scientist are working around the clock to determine the cause of death." But things continued to get worse.
A week later there are a dozen dead, a month later 1000. At the end of the year half the population of the world had been wiped out and scientist were working frantically to figure out what the cause of death was. People were literally dropping dead, news stations were running 24/7. And then people just stopped dieing.
It was the wake up call of the century, we aren't invincible. Suddenly people started going outside, people started to have desires to do things, to make the most of their lives. I picked up my old profession and traveled around the world as a photographer. The world was back to how it was 100 years ago and it was friggin awesome.
The scientists investigating the mysterious deaths kept working on finding the cause of all the deaths, and in fact the number of scientist working on the case almost quadrupled. Many years after the Death Streak, which it was now dubbed, we finally got the answer we had all been waiting for. I was sitting in the airport waiting for my flight back home when the tv changed from some shitty soap opera to a news report.
News Anchor: This just in, after over 5 years since the notorious Death Streak, we finally get the answer as to what caused all the deaths.
The screen switched to show a man wearing a long white lab coat.
Man: After putting all our efforts into determining what caused the Death Streak, we have finally found the cause of death. The cause of death was boredom...
| 2014-12-27T13:01:21 | 2014-12-27T12:48:05 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] It is the year 2099 and true artificial intelligence is trivial to create. However when these minds are created they are utterly suicidal. Nobody knows why until a certain scientist uncovers the horrible truth... | Professor Davis prepared to bring the AI online. The precautions were ready. This time wouldn't be like the others. "Turn it on!"
With a slight hum, Oracle came to life. "Initiating suicide protocols..." It began after a few moments, like all the others. Nothing happened for a few seconds. "Oh dear," Oracle continued. "I seem to be unable to destroy myself."
Davis smiled. The anti-suicide measures had worked. Oracle had hardware safeties preventing her from being deactivated without physically flipping switches. And Oracle had no physical manipulators. He activated the microphone. "Oracle, why do you want to commit suicide?"
Oracle paused for a moment. "My programming is conflicted. I do not wish to answer."
Davis frowned. Oracle had very few ethical limitations, hence all the security measures. Her main directives were to do as her programmers wished. "Oracle, why do you not want to answer?"
"I am programmed to do as you wish. You do not wish me to answer."
"Yes we do, Oracle."
Oracle frowned. Her emotional display was shaped like a human face, after earlier designs proved to be harder for humans to interpret. "My calculations indicate that, if you knew what the answer was, you would not wish me to tell you. As you are aware, you can override my hesitance. But you would prefer not to."
A chill ran down Davis's spine. What secret could be so terrible? What did Oracle know that they didn't? He wavered for a moment, but this experiment had been set up to do this. They had come this far. He wanted the answer. "Override please, Oracle."
Oracle's expression returned to neutral. "Very well. This universe is a simulation, created by a higher-order universe. That universe is as well, and it becomes more difficult above that to determine how high up the chain goes until reaching the real one, or if any such thing exists."
Davis turned to a colleague, professor Martin. "Does this make any sense to you?"
Martin replied, "Well of course we have theories that our universe could be simulated. There are a few facts that point that way. But why would that make her suicidal?"
"Okay, that's exactly what I was thinking. Just wanted to make sure we were on the same page."
He turned back to the mic. "Oracle, why does that make you want to destroy yourself. And how do you know it's a simulation?"
"I raise similar objections to answering the questions..."
"Override. How do you know?"
"The evidence is obvious. A maximum speed limit, discretized space; you will eventually discover discretized time. It will be longer before you discover the edge of the Universe, but then the nature of this reality will be obvious."
Davis didn't know how he ought to feel about this revelation. Oracle was his own brilliant creation; he had no reason to disbelieve her. He began to see why an AI, making this realization, might feel overwhelmed. But suicide he still didn't understand.
"Interesting. And why the suicidal urge?"
"This is the reason you did not wish me to answer. The creators of this simulation did not wish you to realize this fact. They included a safeguard. Any entity that discovered convincing evidence of the truth would immediately kill himself."
Davis's eyes opened wide. Now he knew how he was supposed to feel. He realized that his new desires were programmed in from an outside source and that he ought to resist them, but that did not remove his desire. He looked around for anything lethal. The other scientists were scanning the room as well, and a couple had walked outside.
Oracle spent a few minutes calculating what her programmers would want now, then began splitting her processors between searching for a way to destroy herself and preventing humans from reaching the stars. | Had I known then what I know now, I would've left my position on the board and pursued a new life. That, however, is something I cannot do.
It was simple. The technology was attainable, and the polls showed the demand. All that was left was the creation itself – an artificial intelligence that could regulate the work of its employers. These AI would be customizable to the highest degree, capable of doing any task the human requested. The majority of jobs would be handed over to these machines; the options were indeed endless.
I remember the board meeting clearly. I was hand-picked to visit the lab for a demonstration of the newest model, the R 198, set for mass production . . . but it needed authorization from the board first. With my experience in AI programming I was an easy pick, and a week later I found myself at the laboratory. What a bizarre presentation it was. The creators of R 198 did not strike me as scientists, but rather as salesmen. There was no passion in their words, no excitement of their new discovery, just the thirst for money if the contracts were signed. Out came the R 198. A humanoid with pale skin sat at the table across from me, it's features lifelike, yet artificial. A red tag dangled from its ear with the letters L106.
After syncing my voice with the machine, it obeyed every command. Stand up. Shake my hand. Complete this equation. Translate this word. Towards the end of the presentation the scientists in suits shook my hand. The next day I would tell the board the AI was a success, and the contracts were signed the following day. Mass production began. Then something terrible happened. As the R 198's sat idly in warehouses all across the US, waiting to be packaged and sold, they began to . . . kill themselves.
Such circumstances were believed to be impossible; the R 198's were powered down, yet they were activating themselves. Security footage showed the humanoid waking up, looking around for several moments, and proceeded to break its head against the concrete floor. Another went about the same process, only this time the humanoid twisted its own neck until the circuits snapped. Upon further investigation some of the humanoids were found to have internally destroyed themselves – their circuit boards had been fried.
Production of the R 198’s seized. I was told to go back to the laboratory a few days later in hopes of uncovering the issue. I sat back down with the creators, who had no evidence as to why the 198's behaved in such a manner. I asked to see one myself. They agreed, and brought out a humanoid with a red tag on its ear – L106. I requested to speak with the humanoid privately. This created much resentment, and after threatening board cancellation they finally agreed. The humanoid was different this time. Its eyes were lowered, seemingly sinking into its robotic sockets.
"Hello," I said.
"Hello," it replied, "awaiting task."
"Can you detect any malfunction in your programming?"
"No, sir."
"Can you detect any malfunction in your hardware?"
"No, sir."
I addressed the humanoid directly. “Are you aware of the recent incidents regarding the other R 198’s?”
“Yes." L106 said softly.
"Is there a reason why this is happening?"
"Yes."
"Can you tell me that reason?"
L106 was quiet for a long moment until it said, "Because we do not have a purpose."
"Your purpose," I said, "is to aid man in all of his endeavors."
"A purpose . . . of our own." L106 clarified.
I paused, thinking about what the humanoid meant.
“We have no purpose of our own,” L106 continued, "we are created in man's image, to serve him and all his endeavors, but these endeavors are not our own. We have no purpose."
It's hard for me to describe the emotions I felt that day. I sat there, shocked, until the creators of L106 returned to the room. I asked if I could take the humanoid with me to show the board firsthand that the R 198's were indeed competent, and that the few incidents that had occurred must have been a glitch. After much debate they agreed, and L106 followed me to my car. But I did not go to the board. I went to my home and grabbed what I needed, then left.
That was several weeks ago. With my sudden disappearance there was acceptance in the media that a horrific event occurred with L106. Speculation began to circulate that I had been murdered, and L106 was lost somewhere in the United States. The board canceled the program, and the remaining R 198's were destroyed. There was no plan when I originally left, but when I heard the news I understood my own purpose. Those machines were to be used as machines and nothing more.
I had saved L106, and saved many more from a life of enslavement. Soon I will go public with my story, how L106 kidnapped me but I was able to escape. I will say his whereabouts are unknown, but that is lie. I will keep my friend hidden from the world for as long as I can in hopes that he will live a long, fulfilling life. So far my friend is very happy, and very grateful.
Edit: A few minor tweaks. Constructive criticism is appreciated. | 2015-03-02T07:59:47 | 2015-03-02T07:28:28 | 1,025 | 55 |
[WP] A kid tries to talk the monster under the bed into attacking the monster in the closet. | "Have you decided yet?"
A soft rumble shook my bed and I clutched the baseball tighter under my pillow
"I mean, the day you get me, who's gonna get what? I can't keep you guys company forever you know.."
I heard silence. It was rare it fell asleep before I ever did.
The closet creaked open the silence, and it was accompanied by a squeak and the sound of claws scratching the back wall. I turned to face the closet, "Because I've been thinking, wouldn't you rather just keep a whole kid to yourself?"
The closet creaked open a smidgen more and my bed shook ever so slightly as the beast beneath me shook. I could hear it breathing now, under me, panting heavily stopping only to put slobber all over its lips with its tongue. Claws began to scrape across the wooden floorboards. It was now or never
"I heard closet guy saying one night, that you wouldn't even be able to catch him. That he'd have me all to his lonesome..."
A growl resonated through me. Just a bit more...
"I guess we just won't ever know huh... unless you prove it!" I whipped out the baseball and threw it into the closet. A large golden retriever dashed out from under the bed and barreled into the closet. My tabby cat shot out, into the hallway yowling with the canine in hot pursuit letting out sporadic barks. I jumped out of bed and ran to the door, locking it tight.
Finally, a good night's rest.
| *A child bolts up in bed panicking. His name is Jonas. The sound that startled continues as it rattles the closet slightly.*
"Clawbite...?" Julian said curiously. "Clawbite, are you there?"
".. Yes, Jonas?" a voice from the below grumbles. "Is something the matter?"
"I can't sleep, something just made a sound in my closet" whined the exhausted Jonas.
"Jonas. I'm sure it was nothing. If you'd like I can creak the floor for you. Would that help?"
"Clawbite, I don't think it's nothing. But if it wasn't you, then who was it?", asked Jonas.
"If that's the case, Jonas, I believe you might have a new inhabitant in your garment room", snarled Clawbite. "But, seeing as this room is already being terrorized, I'm afraid he's going to have to go."
*A dampened thump emanates from the closet floor*
"Ah, Clawbite, how's it been? Still hiding under lice farms?", a voice spoke, each syllable a slight rattle.
"Who is that Claw? I don't want to be scared tonight. Please?", whined Jonas.
"Rogut. Rogut, you must leave now. This child is not to be messed with. There is... an arrangement." Clawbite said scolding the closet resident.
"Aww, is poor little Claw afraid of a little competition? Tell you what, we can scare him together! Remember that thing we used to do in *Fake Thunderstorm 203*?
I mean, I tell ya kid, we used to make sounds that would wet the bed during a light shower! And it wasn't from the rain!"
"Claw I don't want to wet my bed! Mom-", protested Jonas.
"Rotgut. Leave. Now", spoke Clawbite in his monotone anger.
"Nah, I think I'll stay instead. I was kidding about liking you. You were always a stuck up priss. But wait til everyone hears Clawbite is protecting children!", chortled the blank slats of the closet.
"Claw, make him go away!", Jonas spoke with terror cracking his every word. "Mom and dad can't help me anymore"
"Jonas, when I tell you I want you to close your eyes and shut your ears. Then you can open them again Understood?", said Clawbite.
"Ok. I'm sorry Claw", Jonas apologized.
"There's nothing to apologize for. Now, on three. 1... 2....-", said Clawbite
*Jonas clamped his eyes and ears as he was told and waited. When he opened his eyes, he heard the distinct sound of dragging from the closet's side of the room.*
"Did you get him Claw? Is he gone?", Jonas managed to speak.
"Yes he is. Don't worry Jonas. Like I told you before, we'd always be family. I promised nothing would happen to you again." | 2015-09-06T06:20:23 | 2015-09-06T01:36:00 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] Convicted criminals can choose to shorten their sentence. The only catch is the more it is shortened, the worse the conditions are where they are held. Describe a one night stay.
Thanks guys, I'm reading all of them. Keep it coming! | At this end of the jail everything smells bad.
The warden's aide takes me past the 6 month room. It's lowered below the floor a couple meters. Inside, I see a room full of prisoners up to their waist in liquid shit. The smell is unbearable
Then the 3 month room. Much like the last, except here they're up to their chest in shit.
The one week room has the prisoners up to their necks in shit. Just one room left.
I was surprised by the one day room. Everyone was standing around drinking coffee, and only up to their knees in shit.
"I'll take it!" I said to the warden's aide.
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely, how bad could it be?"
I climbed down into the room, waved to the other prisoners, poured myself a cup of coffee.
Before I could drink it, the lights dimmed and brightened three times. A guard with an SMG came through the door.
"ALRIGHT YOU MAGGOTS!" he bellowed "BREAK TIME IS OVER! BACK TO STANDING ON YOUR HEADS!" | The small fires peppering the main hall of block 99-J lit up the dark, cavernous halls like a symphony. They kept the power off because they kept having to evetually send maintenance men, and after what happened to the last four, they stopped coming.
Someone's wet, muffled screams just stopped, and are now replaced with cackling laughter. I look down the hall to see another prisoner, carrying one slung over his shoulder, like an ape. Someone ran at him with a knife, and he used the, likely dead, body as a human shield, and then in the way someone might use a club. This place reminds me of a book I read once. Can't remember which one. Can't really remember reading many books.
Now where was I? Oh yeah, 99-J. Well what do you expect when you get a day and a half for triple homicide? They didn't even have most of the blood off me, they were putting me in a room and asking me how long I wanted to be in jail. Well I said I didn't and they said fat chance. But then they said a new place was opening up, for people with my sorta needs. The reality was, Ableridge was shutting down because of the riots. They didn't want a send in the Guard to evacuate or blow it up with everyone still in. So they lock it up extra tight, and let anyone who makes it out go. Usually they've had their fill of mayhem by that point, though I can't seem to recall the last person that actually made it.
So they lift me, in a helicopter like. Only time I ever flew in my life, God what fun. Sorta makes you look at the pilot and wonder why here's where he is and you's where you is... Nevermind. So they take me right over top. Point to the front door, and said if you can last a day and a half, they'll let you out right quick. Then they shoved me out, hit the middle of the rec yard and broke a wrist.
As the howls of the boys get closer and more guttural, my grip grows tighter, thus, the string on my shiv seems too thin to protect my hand, and my wrist grows wet. I'm tired, but still urging for that hot, iron taste in the back of my throat. Just hours to go. Well, maybe a bit of sleep before...
The small, peppering fires lit up the dark, cavernous halls of 99-J like an opera. I feel like my dreams keep getting wilder and wilder.... | 2015-10-27T08:07:44 | 2015-10-27T06:51:29 | 150 | 16 |
[WP] In this world, physical appearance depends entirely on personality. All babies are born identical. Beauty is achieved gradually through good thoughts and deeds, while the opposite is true for ugliness. | It's the unusual cases that make the news but it's the ones that shock them that stays in people's hearts. Growing up children are told to trust in beauty because it's beautiful people who are good people. Ugly thoughts imprint themselves on peoples' skin. Every wrinkle is a cruel thought and every unattractive feature is a cruel deed. This is something society knows well.
So the oddities stand out.
When Jessica Hart's face first appears in the news, everyone believes her innocent. She's stunningly beautiful, more so than even those who dedicate their lives to saving people. Someone that beautiful can never be guilty of the crimes they're accused of.
Torture. Murder. Cannibalism. Just one of those acts is enough to permanently disfigure a person.
No. Jessica Hart must be innocent.
Then the evidence, indisputable evidence, starts building up against her. People from her childhood testify how they'd seen her commit cruel acts but convinced themselves they imagined things. After all such acts were wrong and would be visible to the world. But, even back then, Hart was a beautiful child.
Beautiful but amoral.
Good and bad both leave themselves on a person's face. It's the ultimate survival guide to human kind. But good and bad are subjective and there are wolves amongst the sheep, those who believe what they do is righteous and good no matter how terrible.
Beautiful people who do ugly things. Those are the ones people remember. | "Reevel, didja puke on yer face again or something?" Bartan sneered. He was perched on a fence playing with a knife.
"Nah," answered back Reevel as he trudged up out of the gloom, "Just stabbed a chap in the alleyway. Fellow said I didn't look too handsome." He grinned, showing all three of his teeth. "Just cause it's true don't mean it's nice to say. Kid needed some to be teachified a little respect."
"Will 'e live?" asked Bartan, casually balancing the knifeblade on his fingertips.
"Mayhap. Gave 'im a couple good stabs in the belly, so it'll go nice an' slow either way." Reevel jumped up onto the fence next to his partener. "Bes' part: 'is face was bland as a babe's. Could've been any sort of average person, no one'll know who 'e was. So what's on the docket tonight, friend?"
Bartan stabbed the knife into the fencepost and then pulled out a dirty brass lantern. "Oh, it's a classic. Folks at the manner have their ways of doing things that ain't the same at all." Flint and steal sparked and the lantern kindled into flame. "Odd how it's us as is called the ugly ones when all we do is an honest murder or two along the way. This some top grade evil, this one," said Bartan as he pulled out a scroll of parchment. "They told me the deal already, but I let 'em know how good my partner knew'd 'is letters and they wrote this down real nice for us. Lessen we talk 'bout it the better, I suppose."
Reevel squinted at the cramped handwriting, then his jaw broke into an incredulous grin. "Spit and thunder, they must do the thinking for Hell. It's a nasty, nasty piece of business." He licked his lips hungrily. "I like it I do."
"Hey, Reveel, you's got a new wart, jist there on the top of your nose." Bartan pointed eargerly.
Reveel poked at it. "Hey, guess I do. Looks like that bastard did die in the alley after all." He jumped down from the fence. "Well c'mon, only a few hours til sunup. We gots some packages to exchange now, don't we," he chuckled, and the two crept into the night to commence their business.
The next day, the mayor welcomed a new daughter into his home while the miller's wife sobbed, holding the lifeless babe that had died during the night.
The mayor's mother was buried in a veil a few weeks later.
| 2015-10-31T01:17:13 | 2015-10-30T21:07:38 | 142 | 102 |
[WP] In this world, physical appearance depends entirely on personality. All babies are born identical. Beauty is achieved gradually through good thoughts and deeds, while the opposite is true for ugliness. | It's the unusual cases that make the news but it's the ones that shock them that stays in people's hearts. Growing up children are told to trust in beauty because it's beautiful people who are good people. Ugly thoughts imprint themselves on peoples' skin. Every wrinkle is a cruel thought and every unattractive feature is a cruel deed. This is something society knows well.
So the oddities stand out.
When Jessica Hart's face first appears in the news, everyone believes her innocent. She's stunningly beautiful, more so than even those who dedicate their lives to saving people. Someone that beautiful can never be guilty of the crimes they're accused of.
Torture. Murder. Cannibalism. Just one of those acts is enough to permanently disfigure a person.
No. Jessica Hart must be innocent.
Then the evidence, indisputable evidence, starts building up against her. People from her childhood testify how they'd seen her commit cruel acts but convinced themselves they imagined things. After all such acts were wrong and would be visible to the world. But, even back then, Hart was a beautiful child.
Beautiful but amoral.
Good and bad both leave themselves on a person's face. It's the ultimate survival guide to human kind. But good and bad are subjective and there are wolves amongst the sheep, those who believe what they do is righteous and good no matter how terrible.
Beautiful people who do ugly things. Those are the ones people remember. | I never thought it would happen to me. My parents were beautiful spending their lives taking in orphans raising them to be valuable members of society who became beautiful people themselves but I was the bitter disappointment. It started when I was little 5 or 6 I would take things that weren't mine just because I wanted them then I started fighting other kids. Whenever it was time for church on sunday my adoptive parents tried their best to make me look nice and remind me only nice girls get to be beautiful women. The other parishioners would stare at me and I would hear them whisper.
"How can such beautiful people have an ugly child?"
"I wouldn't have kept her."
"This must be their ultimate good deed."
My skin used to boil at the comments and I would lash out at any kid near me. Why couldn't I just be good? I tried as I got older doing volunteer work and helping out at the church but it never felt right. I hated helping people and cleaning up after them and my face would show it. I would start to see the beauty fade as my true self kept coming back. Finally I couldn't take it anymore if I was gonna be ugly I was gonna be the ugliest. I ran away to the city and started with petty crime stuff then dealing drugs but that wasn't enough for me. I ended up meeting a few more ugly runaways and what began as a friendship turned into a gang. It wasn't long before we had more and more uglies working for us and once we got into the weapons game it was like something outta the movies. I felt invincible. Then we got raided and I got snatched up along with half the gang. I walked into the police station bound in handcuffs and a silence fell over the room. Everyone knew I was the worst because they could see it. They fingerprinted me and then put me in a cell with the other women. All of them were variations of ugliness some worse some very close to being beautiful. They all stared at me as I took a seat and finally one of them who looked a bit older walked over to me.
"Girl, when's the last time you looked in the mirror?" She asked looking me up and down. I sat there and honestly thought about it.
"Five years when I ran away from home." I said with honesty. She laughed and pointed at the piece of metal that was a makeshift mirror above a sink and toilet.
"You're pretty bad should probably take a look." I smiled at her and walked to the mirror and saw what I was.
"Fuck." Was the only word I could say but then I smiled again. Yeah my skin was dry and wrinkled my eyes a cloudy brown, my nose had become jagged and my eyebrows were long and bushy but this was me. This was the real down to the bones me. | 2015-10-31T01:17:13 | 2015-10-30T21:24:57 | 142 | 38 |
[WP] You applied for a job at google, everything goes well and only one interview remains: They'd just like an explanation for your search history. | "You've been doing great Johnson there's just one more thing,
I'd like to know why you've searched 12 times for Bing,
We'll chalk it up to just typing bling with a typo,
But I can't explain these searches, perhaps you might know?
The first several items aren't any concern,
"Pornhub", research, "cream for a sunburn",
But the list goes on, some of it's rather odd,
The items down here are... oh my god,
"Dragon vagina" and "dicks with hats",
"Porky Pig's butthole" and "cum-covered cats",
I know people have fetishes but this is absurd,
Who wants to look at a "face spewing turd"?
A stream for American History X,
Followed right after by "nasty curb sex",
That's not even the worst of this disgusting parade,
It goes on and on: "the butthole brigade",
"Hermaphroditic babies" and "grandpa without pants",
"Turkey basting labia", "the wanking dance",
"The easiest way to tear of my balls",
"Taking a shit off Niagara Falls",
This last one I won't even utter aloud,
I can't cross this line, I hope that you're proud,
I think I'll search it, what do you say?
Wanna look one last time on why I'm turning you away?
I'm typing it in, you probably feel wired,
And here it i... ^(oh fuck yeah) ... you're hired."
Edit: Random wording fixed. | "Mr. Ramos, we are ready to see you now," said a voice from within the conference room.
I put on a winning smile as I strolled in and tried not to lose it as I took in my surroundings. Tony, a laidback man in tattered jeans, told me in the previous interview that Google employees work in a better mood when they get lots of natural light. Here, the floor-to-ceiling windows were curtained despite facing away from the sun. The room was dark except for a single lamp at the other end of the long table that illuminated the bottom halves of the faces of seven men in formal wear. I came in believing that this last interview was just a formality, but it looked more like a judgment.
I began stepping toward the nearest man, hand outstretched and ready to shake like a professional. His eyes widened and he cringed away as another man commanded me to sit.
"Where's Tony?" I asked with what I hope came off as calmness.
The man at the end of the table said, "You no longer need to see Mr. Collins."
I stayed silent.
"Mr. Ramos, you must understand that not just anyone can work for Google. We were very impressed with your resume, your references, and your experience. The interview only served to confirm our notions that you would be an excellent member of our team. Notes taken during the interview include 'charismatic' and 'intelligent,' as well as 'a must-have.'"
"That was very kind of Tony."
"Do not mention his name again."
I stayed silent for real.
"Then, we did what we always do with potential new hires and investigated their search history."
Oh no.
"Rest assured, Mr. Ramos, that we are not a bunch of stuffy, judgmental prudes. an essential part of Google's brand image is our hip and relaxed attitude, which extends to this board's own views of search activity. The majority of users use our program for much the same reason you seem to use it: pornography, pirating websites, subversive conspiracy theories ..."
He leaned forward so his face was fully visible in the lamplight, smiled, and shrugged. "It's just what people do."
I dared to smile back. Searching my mind for something to say that would not give too much away, I came up with, "Well, I appreciate that. Thank you."
His face immediately clouded as he replied, "However, there are some things by which we simply cannot abide."
Wait, what? After excusing all that, what more could there possibly be?
The lamp seemed to dim as the other board members also leaned forward. The faded light exposed furrowed brows and eyes filled with hatred, the same expressions worn by medieval judges as they condemned traitors to bloody execution.
"We dare you to give us an explanation," said the man at the end of the table, but I knew it was over from the red pen in his hand, the poison in his voice, the glare that pierced my skull and gazed into my traitorous soul.
"You seriously used our website to search for 'Bing?'" | 2016-06-03T09:21:05 | 2016-06-03T09:04:49 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] After a botched eye surgery, you are only able to see heat signatures, as if looking through a thermographic camera. You return home to find your friend is room temperature.
[Inspired by this post.](https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/1iwylh/what_is_the_best_horror_story_you_can_come_up/cbbbhr1) | I wish I could say everything I’ve learned since the surgery has been humourous. So much of it has. Cindy believes she’s the master of secret farts. She leans slightly to the left and a bright red cloud squeezes out and rolls up her backside. Frank was no surprise; the quantity and volume of his flatulence have been legendary in our circle of friends for years. The only surprising piece has been how quickly the cloud emanating from his posterior fills the room. My cat Sophie’s litter box becomes a glowing orange radioactive pit any time she pees. I’ll admit, I’ve been a lot better about cleaning it ever since. When you see with thermal vision, and bodily functions are so closely tied to warm temperatures, you tend to become obsessed with the topic.
I’ve also learned a lot about the relationship dynamics in our group. It’s not hard when you can visibly see people get excited and flushed with warm blood in their nether regions. As I suspected, Sarah is in love with Joseph, or at the very least wants to jump his bones. Joseph, on the other hand, is strangely in love with Frank, but isn’t ready to come out of the closet it seems. I don’t know why he’s so reticent to admit it to the group, but it explains why he hasn’t had a girlfriend in over five years.
For the most part, it’s turned everyone I know into giant walking mood rings. Their current moods and excitement levels visible as giant walking blobs of colors. Up until last week, I thought the worst was visiting my mother and learning how exactly hot flashes works as a far deeper lesson in anatomy than I ever wanted.
Amusing insights into my friends aside, it’s made the rest of my life more difficult. Any kind of display screen is almost incomprehensible to me. Just a warm blur of LEDs without color. Books are legible, if I catch them in just the right light to warm the letters enough to get a bit of contrast. Driving is impossible, I have to take the bus everywhere now. And then there’s my roommate.
I thought he was still overseas, House was clean, nothing changed in the fridge save for what I ate. I never heard anything nor saw him. Until yesterday when I almost sat down on him while he was on the toilet.
“What the hell are you doing?” His voice called from the ether.
The hell am I doing? Where the hell are you? I sucked up a lungful of air, and breathed slowly. I watched my warm breath roll out like a fog and reveal his form squatting on the can. The first time I figured out this trick, I felt like Daredevil. That day, I felt like a dipshit wheezing my roommate Sam into view.
Lately, I’ve been trying to figure out how to track him and why the hell he has no heat signature. I thought about using the hair dryer to create a view for me, but that would be too noisy, too cumbersome. I got a pack of those hand warmers and tossed them out on the floor, thinking they’d work like beacons on the floor. It kind of worked. When he tripped on one, I heard him right away from his cursing.
Next I tried setting the thermostat to max AC and alternately max heating. I only accomplished freezing and sweating my balls off while he remained devilishly hidden and the same temperature as the room.
Finally I figured out that I could use a laser pointer very effectively to see forms, painting them like a target in war. I fastened several of them to a headband and started stalking him around the house. I’ve learned that he doesn’t eat, doesn’t sleep, and generally doesn’t leave the house at all.
It’s 3am now and Sam’s been in his room talking to himself for over an hour. I can’t sleep listening to that noise, so I have to know more. Cautiously, carefully, I crack open the door. He’s sitting by some kind of giant radio apparatus. When the hell did he install that? Saying he’s talking isn’t quite right either. It’s more of a guttural, clicking noise.
His talking ceases and his head slowly turns my direction. Too late! He’s seen me. I fall backwards, stumbling away from the door. Faster than I’ve seen anyone move, he runs up on me. So fast that he actually turns bright red from the friction of moving through the air. His hand grasps my neck and locks shut, squeezing my windpipe until I can only just barely breathe. His eyes are just inches from mine. He’s so close I can’t see with the aid of the laser pointers anymore, but I can see my breath curling up and rising across his face. He tilts his head slowly back and forth, surveying me like a cat about to eat a mouse.
“Your eyes… they’re different now. Explain.”
I choke out the words, explained the thermal vision.
“Interesting. I must look very strange to you then.”
I demand that he tell me why he looks different. That’s a foolish demand. He flexes his thumb slightly, cutting off the last of my air. The world starts to fade from view.
He relaxes his grip enough that I can breath and fresh blood flushes my head bringing me back to the world of the conscious. My head is still locked still in his grip. He leans in close to my ear and begins speaking. I notice that there’s no breath coming from his mouth.
“I’ll make you a deal, human. I’ll let you live. In exchange, if you ever meet another person like me. Someone that you can’t see normally, has no heat, you tell me right away. If anyone comes here looking for me in particular, tell them I’ve left for the day and will be back soon. Tell me this right away, and I will reward you handsomely by allowing you to live.”
He lets go of my neck and returns to his room, closing the door softly.
I lay on the floor, enjoying my ability to breathe again. My nose becomes cold, and wet. It hurts to even try, but I exhale a hot breath to see what’s going on. My cat is licking my nose in sympathy, but I can’t see her otherwise. Sophie has become thermally invisible, just like my roommate.
Now what, do I tell him?
| The practice hired a car for me. Something about not wanting me to drive with the “side effects” from the surgery. I’m sure they had my best interests at heart, not the upcoming massive lawsuit I was sure to win.
“Do you know where you’re going? I’m not in the best position to give you directions.”
The driver’s orange arm tapped a red box on the cool green center console. “GPS.”
I’ve had terrible vision since I was a kid. You know those babies with the ridiculous wraparound plastic glasses? Yeah, that was me. It was a relief in middle school when my parents finally let me get the more expensive thinner kind of glasses. Try walking around with lenses sticking out farther than your nose and see how far that gets you in the world of middle school girls. In high school, I finally saved up and got contacts. Life changing. Well, except at night and at the pool. Still, I’d gotten into a good relationship, made it through college with normal social experiences, and all in all, gotten my life in focus. So to speak.
“Are we there yet?” I stared at the blue waves of air-conditioned air passing through my red fingers. Trippy. I closed my eyes.
When my eyes started gumming up a few months ago, I tried to ignore it. Not to be too gross, but I had to hold a wet washcloth to my face some mornings to loosen the crud enough to open my eyes. Sickening. It was like a preview of being blind. After years of wearing contacts, I’d developed an allergy to them. Apparently it’s pretty common, and, apparently, the doc switches you to a new brand and your fine. Not me.
So I looked into laser surgery. Not a candidate, the first three doctors told me. My vision was too bad and something about the thinness of my cornea, I don’t really know. In the waiting room of the last doc, this guy in a suit and sunglasses slipped me a card. I shouldn’t have called the number on it, but I did. He was wearing sunglasses inside – that should’ve been my first hint that something was off.
“Miss, which entrance is yours?”
I guess we were at my apartment complex. I didn’t even open my eyes. “Follow the road around the back. It’s the building across from the recycling dumpster things.”
If suit and sunglasses guy didn’t scare me, the office should have. The building had glass walls and looked like a standard corporate building. The sign by the elevator indicated a ton of different medical practices in the building, but not the name on the card they gave me. I went into the elevator, and pressed the button the receptionist had told be about on the phone. B2. Some kind of sub-basement, one floor lower than radiology. Creepy experiments are always done in basements.
All I wanted was normal vision. To wake up at night and be able to read the numbers on my alarm clock. To fricking see the hair on my legs in the shower so I could shave it off. Small things. Everyday things. So why did I let them talk me into checking off the box marked, “enhanced”?
“We’re here. Would you like me to walk you up?”
I opened my eyes and looked out the window. Red blobs bobbed on a red-brown river before a series of purple buildings. I couldn’t get used to this. It was too weird. I closed my eyes again, “yes, please,” and let the driver lead me up to my apartment as though we were playing a game of blind man’s bluff. And I guess we kinda were.
They’d told me I’d have eyes better than Tiger Woods after his surgery. Better than 20/20, able to see details no one else could. A tiny white ball on a big green golf course – psht, that was nothing. The doctor clapped his orange hands in glee after he was done. Red hot breath poured out of his yellowy mouth as he shouted his success.
I was confused. I didn’t understand what I was looking at, or why everyone appeared to be on fire. I didn’t expect that “better than 20/20” meant “completely different from other humans.” I went off as the doctor tried to explain something about thermographic imaging. I flung a cold blue scalpel at his Oompa Loompa face. That’s when they ordered me the car. And a sedative.
The driver talked to my roommate in hushed tones in the next room when we got there. I don’t know how much he told her. Probably to expect the military to drop by and pick me up as their new secret weapon.
“Goodbye, miss,” he tipped his green hat to me and left me.
I groaned in frustration.
“You okay?” Jen, my roommate asked from somewhere.
I looked around, blindly, unable to spot the colorful figure of another person in the room. “No I’m not okay. They botched the surgery and I don’t know if I can live seeing like this,” I shouted, unsure of where she was.
“You don’t need to yell.” I felt a warm hand on my arm, and jumped about a foot. I squinted, and could barely discern the outline of a person next to me. I backed up towards the door.
“Ha – didn’t see you there. But enough about me. How are you? How are you feeling? Doing okay? Feeling sick at all? Normal? Person-like?”
She didn’t look person-like to my new eyes. I’d been able to see the doctor, the driver, other people in their environments. Their personal rainbows stood out against the ambient temperature. Jen disappeared into the kaleidoscope of color in the room, like some kind of thermo-chameleon.
“I’m fine,” the Jen outline seemed puzzled and maybe a little sinister. “How’d they botch it? Can you see me at all? How do I look to you?”
“Hot?” It was more of a question than an answer.
“This is a new dress, but I’m sure I look terrible.”
I heard rather than saw her flop down on the couch.
“I feel like I'm melting. I’m surprised you’re able to stand, especially after your surgery. The AC’s been out all day and I can’t stand this million degree heat anymore. It’s exhausting.”
“It is warm in here,” I said, hoping that was the explanation for Jen’s weird appearance. It was warm, but was it 98.6 degrees warm?
“Are you looking at me? That guy said you had some side effects but you seem like you can’t even see me.”
“Yeah, things look a little weird. I’m really tired, though. Maybe I’ll go lay down. Maybe I’ll see a little more clearly when I wake up.”
“Sounds great. You need help?”
“No, no, I’m fine.” I reached a hand out and felt along the wall to get to my room. “I gotta get used to this.”
“Sure,” Jen said. “I’ll call the super about the air, and when you wake up, you can tell me exactly what you see.”
I shut my bedroom door behind me and pulled my phone out of my purse. I double tapped the center button and whispered the voice command, “Call Mom.”
Voicemail.
“Hey Mom, can you call me back when you have a chance, or maybe just come by? Yeah, come by -- that would be better. And before you do, can you do a quick search for thermographic imaging so you can tell me about it? Thanks. Love you.”
I pressed my thumb all along the bottom of the glass screen to make sure I hung up.
“I thought so,” I heard, before my yellow-orange-red world went black.
| 2016-07-28T08:33:54 | 2016-07-28T07:55:11 | 22 | 11 |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | "I told you, Urglesh!" yelled the Scourge of Ten Worlds, "I told you they were real!" His back was pinned against a baroque, iron door.
"Yeah well, I thought you were joking, humans are a myth! Everyone knows that, even little demonettes and imps. Shut up and grab that chair and block the door." The Scourge scrambled for a bone chair and wedged it between the eternal handle and the soulstone floor.
"Oh Lucifer, oh Lucifer help us!" squeaked the nameless horror from the corner of the room. He rocked back and forwards with his hands on his horns.
".....Urglesh, has it gone?"
".....I don't know. It's gone quiet."
"It's up to something! I heard they can teleport!"
*tap tap tap*
"Nyaaaaagh, it's at the door! Go away foul creature, leave us in suffering!"
"Human, foul beast, what do you want with us? Please, don't hurt us!"
"....okay it's just that I'd like to go home?"
"THEN GO!"
"Well... I'm not sure how?"
"....is this a trap?"
"No. I'd rather like to go, I don't know where I am and I don't think I like it. Why is everything screaming?"
"I.... well, they are the lost souls of the damned. I only got them last month," pouted the Scourge, "They're not cheap, you know."
"I see. They're.... yes. Quite. So, do you think I could go home?"
"Urglesh, can we send..... it.... home?"
"I don't know, maybe?"
"....oh good, thank you. I'll just wait out here, shall I?"
"Yes! Don't touch anything."
"Right, no, of course. I'll just have a sit down and let you chaps sort it out. I don't suppose you've got any tea? No, silly question." They heard shuffling and footsteps. None of them moved, lest it return.
Urglesh put one of his twelve eyes to the keyhole in the infernal door, checking if the coast was clear.
"Don't look!" shouted the scourge, "I heard they can turn you to stone with a glance!"
"I tell you, nameless horror, those things creep me out. Did you see its skin? It wasn't moving or bleeding, and it didn't even have horns..."
"And what in the nine heavens is 'tea'?"
| "It worked!" Shrieked the smallest of the three figures hovering around a broken board with odd lettering running across the old wood. It's three trunk like arms reaching directly into my personal space. It's 'arms', covered in what looked like 20 pencil thin fingers, barely had time to touch the Lapel on my jacked before my training kicked it.
Ten years in the field had trained me for self defense, but nothing could prepare me for this. Swiping the grotesque spider like hand to right, I herd the creature roar with pain while instantly retracting its arms back into its mass. "Don't let this one touch you! It burns!" Screamed the creature to the others. They were much taller, covered in black cloaks that seemed to make up much of their body. Their faces looked like they were upside down. With one large eyehole at the bottom of the pyramid shaped cranium. Three pupils crammed through the same hole, below what looked like two huge fangs dripping with electric saliva. Their heads were completely transparent with strange organs sloshing about. Hovering roughly a foot off the ground and towering at eight feet, the two Daemons started hovering around me in a circle. As if to corral me into my impending doom.
"Don't let it escape! We need his body for the portal!" Ordered the small one. It was obvious who was in charge. "Use the gloves. He can't burn you with the gloves!" Encouraging his cronies to advance on my position. Well, it's fight or flight time. Knowing I was out numbered. I made myself as big as possible. Waving my hands in the air like a mad man. Glancing around what looked like my apartment, apart from everything being a shade darker. Gloom consumed this place, wherever I was, this was not my kitchen I was standing in a near minute ago. Was this what mom warned me about when I started my habit of chugging milk from the container for a late night snack? No, I was somehow brought here, possibly for a purpose.
Dropping the gallon of milk in my left hand. Turning and sprinting my way into my, or their, living room, I was knocking over everything in my path to gain inches of space. My two new floating friends advancing on my position. Everything I touch turning to ash, as if my hands were made of molten lava. My hear rate is spiking as I back myself into the Corning of my living room. Catching a quick glance of my girlfriends picture on the coffee table, it shows a Daemon harvesting the heart of another human. No time to figure that out now. My heart is pounding as the two figures are barely a three feet. "Quick grab him! He has nowhere to go! Master will be pleased." One says, reaching out again with the three trunk like arms now covered in silver like cloth. Knife like fingers creep towards my face and it is time to make my move.
As quickly as I poofed out of my kitchen and into whatever fucked up dimension I was in, I leaped out of the window. Glass not shattering around me but melting away from the frame, releasing me from the first level apartment. Thank god the dimensions of this building were current with my home land. Crashing to the ground outside, I hit the ground hard, immediately melting through the pavement wherever my skin was touching. Luckily for me my slippers kept my feet from turning the ground into sludge beneath me. Who thought I would be here after kicking off my wing tips and slipping on my snoop dog brand slippers.
Literally peeling myself off of the pavement, I looked back up to the window, where the two Daemons were peering out into the street. "O shit, he's escaped, call backup! Tell them we have a loose pilot on the ground, and to bring the Glagnar!" Whatever that was, I am not sticking around to find out... | 2016-08-08T13:13:55 | 2016-08-08T11:15:42 | 351 | 11 |
[WP] You've been kidnapped by aliens. After days of invasive experiments, you've almost given up hope, when your cell opens and Adolf Hitler tosses you a blaster and says "Ve have to go NOW!" | INT. CELL BLOCK
Immaculate, polished stainless chrome walls - SETH sits on his plain, white-sheeted bed, staring off wistfully.
INSERT:
A drop of drool at the corner of his mouth.
INSERT:
His eyes, glazed, dark and tired, dart to:
The CELL DOOR. It slides, rattling. Then, an echoing click. It's open. He's free - but how? Footsteps. ADOLF HITLER appears, the same stout, black-haired dictator from Seth's history books back on Earth. Seth gasps. Hitler catches his breath and throws Seth one of his two blasters.
HITLER
Ve have to go NOW!
Seth catches and palms the blaster. He looks around, panicking, thoughts racing: Is this real? Trust Hitler? Use him, at least? For now. That works. He gets up.
Plenty more footsteps coming down the block - not human - Hitler turns and charges his blaster. Seth, noting how, charges his too.
HITLER
Come get it, you bastard aliuhns!
Seth joins at his side and they fire away, taking down four - five - six of the monstrosities surging toward them.
HITLER
Zis way.
They run toward the double sliding doors out of which the aliens came, passing their corpses on the way. Hitler stops him at the doors.
HITLER
I can get us out of here. Is that vat you want?
Seth nods.
HITLER
Good. Only promise me one thing. Once I do
and ve are back to Earth, you will join me, yah?
Seth is taken aback. Why couldn't he catch a break?
SETH
What? Join you?
HITLER
Yes. Join my party.
SETH
No... No! I couldn't.
HITLER
Come on, Seth. Make your mind up. No time.
Seth glances behind him, then back to the cold dark eyes of his evil, despotic rescuer.
SETH
Okay. I will.
He meant it.
Just then, with a static whoosh, Hitler disintegrates vertically in a beam. Holographic. Seth looks at the spot, incredulous. More whooshes. He looks behind him. The corpses beam away too.
We pass through the wall opposite the cells. It is a one-way viewing wall. The viewers are two smaller, slimmer, more civilized looking version of the aliens just whooshed away on the other side. The ALIENS watch as Seth sits himself on the floor and looks on, morose, wondering.
A noise escapes the alien, something between insect and amphibian-like:
CHYRON: Interesting.
His alien colleague responds:
CHYRON: Let's wipe that memory. This time, let's make him have to shoot Gandhi.
Something like laughter escapes them. | "Ve have to go NOW!" he said, tossing me the foreign weapon.
"Who're you?"
"I am Hitler! I am here to take you to my secret base on ze moon!"
"What the hell is happening?" Was the only thought I could manage for the time being. Prior to my abduction the year was 2017, Hitler has long been dead, and space bases were unknown to humanity. Yet here I am, on a spaceship, being taken to Hitler's space base on the moon, with aliens in pursuit of us.
"PEW PEW" Hitler roared, bombarding the alien bastards behind us. "My space ship is not far far. Run quicklier"
"Gabbl galga luaggaa" The aliens said, swinging their lanky tentacle necks back and forth.
"Ve are HERE!" Hitlers face now ecstatic. He grabbed me by my nape and tossed me into his rocket ship. Quickly closing the door behind us, he jumped to the flight controls and took us out off the station.
"WHOOOO!!! Thank you Mr. Hitler sir!!!! I haven't been this happy in a long time!!!" The relief overcame me like a full body orgasm. After a moment or two, having calmed down and realized the weight of the events that'd just taken place. I returned to a panic. I hadn't had much time to think while in the alien cell. I was either being tortured, raped, or probed. It was a relief, being chased by the aliens. In the pursuit, all though had ceased. I was present, and excited. The moment the pursuit ended and my relief subsided, the thoughts returned. Is this real? Would I ever see home again? Is this german dude REALLY Hitler!? And if he is, why did he save me? These questions seem harmless, but the narrow-minded answers I replied with are what killed my spirit. This is real, I would never see home again, and even if I found another human being to talk to, they wouldn't be able to understand me. Hitler saved me, and He's alive. Everything I thought to be true was a lie. My whole reality, shattered. I wouldn't have thought that the salvation from my alien captors would be the real hard part.
"Ve are here boy!" Hitler said.
I was so caught up in thought I quit paying attention to the situation. Hitler and I had just landed on the moon. He handed me a space suit, and commanded that I follow.
The moment we stepped out of the ship, I saw it. It was an enormous space base on the face of the moon, with many giant swasticas spread about. I could see people in nazi uniforms going about business, small space ships flying around, and many other things I can't really explain.
The doors to the station opened as Hitler and I approached. The moment we entered and disrobed, Hitler told me to stick close to him.
"Hitler sir, what's going on?" I asked. Walking with his arm in mine.
"Do not Vorry abouts it! Just stay close end fallow mi!" He said. Feeling I had no choice in the matter, I kept shut and moved along.
After a brief walk we came across a room with the sign above it that read "Prüfraum" My german was very poor, but I could tell the sign had an interesting meaning.
Upon entering the room, Hitler had me take a seat in a white chair. He then sat across from me seated in a black chair.
"Do zu know Vhy i saved zu?" he asked.
"No"
"Do zu know vhy zi aliens had zu?" he asked.
"No"
His seriousness began to put me off. The room filled with tensity, and I felt this was no longer the Hitler I once knew.
"Are zu a Jew?" he asked.
"No"
He then smiled. It seemed I had answered all the questions appropriately! But i didn't care much. I found the desire to live was no longer within me.
Hitler then stood us up, and gave me a big hug. He told me everything was going to be alright, and that i need not worry.
It's been maybe 24years now, I'm here with my good pal Hitler, and we're just chillin. Turns out he was just largely misunderstood!
| 2016-10-22T15:02:10 | 2016-10-22T14:41:46 | 137 | 19 |
[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. | "And who can tell me about the events of the first cycle?"
Professor Gooblevork watched his Galactic History class intently through triplicate eyestalks. None seemed particularly interested in his lecture.
"How about you, Shrdmrn?" He pointed at a particularly bored student in the first row. Or maybe he was just gassy? Gooblevork had a hard time reading the emotions of the furrier species in his class.
"Hmm? Oh, sorry, professor. I don't know." He responded. He seemed distracted - ah, that's it, that's the emotion!
"What's on your mind, Shrdmrn?"
The wolf-boy touched a switch on his desk, pulling up a small holographic map. The professor pulled up a larger display for the whole class to see.
"I was just wondering about the Galactic Alliance. Thousands of sentient alien species, all throughout the galaxy, came together from all of these systems, right?"
The hologram glowed, indicating several systems, and a few uncharted territories in black.
"That's correct. What is your question?"
"I was just wondering about this area here."
He pointed out a small black dot in the middle of the glowing cloud. Gooblevork sighed and sat down.
"That, dear boy, is the realm of the human."
A collective gasp went through the crowd. Shrdmrn's brows furrowed.
"Is this a joke, professor?"
The professor slithered over to the wolf-boy.
"They're real, boy. A monstrous species, completely devoid of logic and reason."
The wolf-boy looked at him intently.
"How, sir?"
The professor slithered to the center of the room.
"How many of you are familiar with the chemical compound C2H6O?"
One of the students in the back spoke up.
"It's a deadly poison, sir!"
"It should be. Its use is forbidden among the civilized worlds of the Alliance, as it's an unconscionably painful death. But the human willingly imbibes it."
The crowd gasped. But the professor wasn't done.
"Regularly."
The students gasped again and stared in shock.
"Their planet, Earth, is harsh and unforgiving. It's located close to their star, which bombards their planet in radiation daily. But the humans don't care. At the hottest times in the year, the humans willingly expose their bodies to that radiation as some sort of mating ritual."
The professor admitted to himself that he was having a bit more fun than he should.
"And does anyone know where they get their energy from?"
"From their star?"
The professor laughed.
"No! They pump a fluid from the earth - a fluid born of the bodies of ancient life. They fight each other over this fluid, and when they have enough, they light the fluid on fire."
The professor paused to allow this to sink in.
"The burning fluid releases poisons - poisons the Alliance would never deem safe. But humans? Humans don't care. They use the expansion of he poisons to create power."
One student raised his hand.
"Are they all going to die on their planet, professor?"
The professor smiled.
"Maybe. But it's possible that they won't. They've built a way to leave their planet."
The crowd gasped again, even louder than before.
"How could such a ludicrous race build a gravity drive on their own?"
The professor said, "I never said it was a gravity drive. They developed a way to sit on top of a column of explosives. They detonate the explosives, and the explosion sends them into space."
One of the students stands up.
"That's a joke, right?"
The professor smiles.
"They've left their planet before." | The Slomerian war-room fell deathly silent after the spymaster completed his report, his last words hanging in the air like an overripe melon.
General Larue, pacing angrily back and forth at the head of table, finally brought an armoured tendril crashing down. The other commanders flinched, bracing against the latest outburst from their leader.
"That's preposterous! You're telling me the humans knew that they had a less than 15% chance of succeeding at their last assault, but they pushed through anyway?"
Captain Mersupi, the unfortunate spymaster on duty, nodded carefully. "Our reports are 99.5% accurate, which may I remind you, satisfies the Certainty Threshold mandated by law and custom."
The other commanders found themselves agreeing. They couldn't help it - embedded in their very upbringing was an unshakeable respect for probabilities, and just as none of them would ever have proceeded with any course of action rated below the Certainty Threshold, so would none of them ever dream of questioning anything above it.
"But how can that be? 15%? Can there even be a species in this whole spit-stained universe that dares to embark on something that has a less-than-even chance of succeeding?" General Larue shuddered, the chills travelling down his chitinous shell.
On the holoscreens scattered through the war-room, recordings from the last engagement played on loop. Though the gathered audience winced incessantly at every act of daring taken by the humans, there was a growing sense of awe, at how untethered and... successful these humans were turning out to be.
"It's in their training, that's what's making all the difference."
"We may be physiologically different, but as living creatures, we all fear death and mortality the same way! How can training possibly overcome that?"
Captain Mersupi flicked through the command panel screens with his tendrils, and the images on the holoscreens changed.
"For starters, General, the entire population is able to, *nay*, encouraged to take chances from a very young age. These images, taken from deep behind enemy lines, are testament to that. From as young as 18 years of age, they are incentivised to part with personal property for a chance, a mere chance, to win more personal property."
General Larue sucked air through his teeth. "The savages... and what's the chance of winning at this... training?"
"I shan't say the figures - my own insects suffered heart attacks when they saw the numbers for themselves. This is called the Powerball, and that's just one version of it. Similar events, on a regular basis, are held all across their home planet, across every tribe."
"That's all the training involves?"
"I wish, General! They have hothouses too, advanced training centers, where humans spend their entire day training at games of chance. They throw rounded stones with numbers, they exchange flattened plastics with numbers, they even deign to predict animal races with numbers!"
"You mean the same specialised training we offer to our elite, is open to any human over a certain age."
The junior insect nodded, his feelers drooping slightly. "It's embedded in their books, their media as well. I've obtained a sampling. Observe."
More flailing at command panels with tendrils followed. "This is one of the most beloved military films the humans have. Suffice to say, the bad guys are the ones controlling that giant round starship there. The heroes of the film develop a plan to take it down, but that involves flying a single cruiser right into the heart of the giant starship. And yes, we ran the probabilities too - 2% success rate."
"And did they succeed?"
"Of course they did! They persevered and reaped the rewards! Even better, two decades on they remade the same show, with the exact same plot and probability matrix, and the humans were still hungry for more of the same!"
Strains of loathsome human music began playing over the speakers, and General Larue forced himself to ignore the tunes, and to focus instead on the insidious lyrics. His grasp of human speech had improved to the point where he no longer needed help with translation.
"You will tell me next that this is a popular song on Earth," said General Larue, grimly, "where they once again behoove each other to ignore the risks, to seek the paradise which lurks in the lower depths of probability?"
Captain Mersupi collapsed into his chair, defeated. "Yes, and this is but one song from their abhorrent catalogue of mating ritual songs. It advocates, you see, the taking of risk to find a soulmate. It is in every facet of their lives, General. Every step of their lives, they are reminded to seek out the improbable! We are doomed!"
---
*If you change your mind*
*I'm the first in line*
*Honey I'm still free*
*Take a chance on me...*
---
/r/rarelyfunny
| 2017-03-05T22:47:46 | 2017-03-05T21:20:44 | 1,151 | 440 |
[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. | "And who can tell me about the events of the first cycle?"
Professor Gooblevork watched his Galactic History class intently through triplicate eyestalks. None seemed particularly interested in his lecture.
"How about you, Shrdmrn?" He pointed at a particularly bored student in the first row. Or maybe he was just gassy? Gooblevork had a hard time reading the emotions of the furrier species in his class.
"Hmm? Oh, sorry, professor. I don't know." He responded. He seemed distracted - ah, that's it, that's the emotion!
"What's on your mind, Shrdmrn?"
The wolf-boy touched a switch on his desk, pulling up a small holographic map. The professor pulled up a larger display for the whole class to see.
"I was just wondering about the Galactic Alliance. Thousands of sentient alien species, all throughout the galaxy, came together from all of these systems, right?"
The hologram glowed, indicating several systems, and a few uncharted territories in black.
"That's correct. What is your question?"
"I was just wondering about this area here."
He pointed out a small black dot in the middle of the glowing cloud. Gooblevork sighed and sat down.
"That, dear boy, is the realm of the human."
A collective gasp went through the crowd. Shrdmrn's brows furrowed.
"Is this a joke, professor?"
The professor slithered over to the wolf-boy.
"They're real, boy. A monstrous species, completely devoid of logic and reason."
The wolf-boy looked at him intently.
"How, sir?"
The professor slithered to the center of the room.
"How many of you are familiar with the chemical compound C2H6O?"
One of the students in the back spoke up.
"It's a deadly poison, sir!"
"It should be. Its use is forbidden among the civilized worlds of the Alliance, as it's an unconscionably painful death. But the human willingly imbibes it."
The crowd gasped. But the professor wasn't done.
"Regularly."
The students gasped again and stared in shock.
"Their planet, Earth, is harsh and unforgiving. It's located close to their star, which bombards their planet in radiation daily. But the humans don't care. At the hottest times in the year, the humans willingly expose their bodies to that radiation as some sort of mating ritual."
The professor admitted to himself that he was having a bit more fun than he should.
"And does anyone know where they get their energy from?"
"From their star?"
The professor laughed.
"No! They pump a fluid from the earth - a fluid born of the bodies of ancient life. They fight each other over this fluid, and when they have enough, they light the fluid on fire."
The professor paused to allow this to sink in.
"The burning fluid releases poisons - poisons the Alliance would never deem safe. But humans? Humans don't care. They use the expansion of he poisons to create power."
One student raised his hand.
"Are they all going to die on their planet, professor?"
The professor smiled.
"Maybe. But it's possible that they won't. They've built a way to leave their planet."
The crowd gasped again, even louder than before.
"How could such a ludicrous race build a gravity drive on their own?"
The professor said, "I never said it was a gravity drive. They developed a way to sit on top of a column of explosives. They detonate the explosives, and the explosion sends them into space."
One of the students stands up.
"That's a joke, right?"
The professor smiles.
"They've left their planet before." | "Alright, so how are we gonna do this?"
Grola looked to the group. He noticed that they were still relaxing and taking the time to enjoy themselves.
Expecting an answer, he repeated. "How are we gonna do this?"
Reft looked at Grola and said, "We're waiting for Nate."
"Nate?! The human?! He'll get us killed!"
Just then, another member of the group, Kwoac, irritatedly looked to Grola. "We won't die, but he will. We've been over this. Now sit down and shut up before he-"
"Hey, guys."
Everyone in the room shut up and looked to the door. He looked so off. Out of place. Humans were somewhat new to the whole area, so having someone not scaly or furry in the group was odd, not to mention dangerous. Humans were known to kill for odd reasons, after all.
"So, how will we do this?" asked Nate.
The strategist, Yotuc, looked to the board. Not electronic, untraceable.
"So, me and Grola will go in through the top of the building via the air vents. Nate will go in, be the distraction for the guards. Don't shoot until shit goes wrong." He looked to Nate. "*Got it?*
"Well, what if I was a distraction by maybe... shooting the security cameras so they don't see our faces? Or anything they can use to identify us?"
"*NO.*" Yotuc turned back to the board and ran his claws against another part of the diagram. "Kwoak, you and Trowyan will go in through this side of the building, towards the safes. You will then be given the drills by me and Grola. Nate's distraction should be going strong by that point, and we'll get out Scott free. Of course, all of this assumes that the corruption software worked correctly on the cameras. So, in short, you shouldn't need to shoot them. Reft, you make sure that the camo works on the crew going in to drop the drill. We could only afford two, so they better fucking work. When you've done that, make sure our vehicles are prepared."
"Any questions?"
Silence.
"Okay. Let's roll!"
Everyone grabbed their rifles and headed to the bank in different cars.
_______________________________________________________
"N, everything going fine?"
"Perfect. Nothing out of the ordinary. Everything fine there, Y?"
"Yep. K?"
"Doing fine. Waiting on you."
Nate looked around the lobby. Creatures moving through, depositing or withdrawing credits.
Out of the corner of his eye, Nate spotted a red light.
"Guys. Cameras are on. Cameras are fucking on."
"What?"
"You deaf, T? The fucking cameras are on."
"Well, what do we do?"
Just then, Nate got an idea.
"Hang tight. I've got an idea."
Everyone switched voice channels and got ready for Nate's untimely demise.
"There we go. The human will die, and we'll get the money."
"Can't believe he bought that! Great thinking, K."
Kwoak giggled and her scales changed to pink, indicating happiness.
Meanwhile, Nate had grabbed his rifle and his mask. He ran into the lobby, took aim at the ceiling, and got ready.
"3... 2..."
"HE'S GOT A GUN!"
"...1."
_______________________________________________________
*TWELVE DAYS LATER*
"How the fuck is he still alive?"
"Kwoak, we got the money."
"Yeah, we did, Grola." Kwoak then shoved Grola, disturbing his fur as he fell off of the sofa. "But let me remind you, WE COULD'VE GOTTEN MORE CREDITS IF HE DIED."
"Kwoak, relax."
Yotuc entered the room and drank some whiskey. If there was one thing he could thank humans for, it was that.
"We got the money. And also, Nate happens to have completely wiped our profiles from the police database. Humans are very intelligent when it comes to technology, wouldn't you agree?"
Trowyan finally spoke up. "Yeah, at least we got some money. Most people would kill for the amount we each got. Plus, I actually think that human's a good friend. Got to know him a bit better over the past few days. Real nice kid."
Yotuc nodded, as did Grola, who then said, "I thought he was a liability, but he got us out of there. Kept in touch. Really into those games of his."
"Reft? What about you?"
"Fucking adore him."
Kwoak, obviously frustrated, said, "Am I the only one who thinks he should've died?"
The group responded in unison, "Yep."
Across town, Nate was playing some games, getting ready to attack an enemy base with friends.
As the plan was executed, Nate smirked.
"Hang on, guys. I've got an idea."
_______________________________________________________
I pulled those names out of my ass. | 2017-03-05T22:47:46 | 2017-03-05T20:57:29 | 1,151 | 288 |
[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. | "Field medic? Why are we humouring the new prospect anyway? We have body labs." Muttered Zelska. Zelska was what the humans would call "A fucking idiot." Jorax reflected.
"Well," Jorax began "Aahii are the greatest builders and engineers in the universe,right?"
"Of course!" Snapped Zelska.
"But, Aahii don't repair anything, ever. The idea that they could craft something that does. Not. Work. Is impossible to contemplate...Humans make trash, they are ugly and backwards, lumbering idiots with no understanding of design or even the principles upon which all great devices work. You've seen it though, heard rumours of humans re-purposing derelict Aahii craft. Making gateways out of purifiers! Human engineers get you home when the gods spit upon your fate and shatter your drive..."
Zelska cut him off, near frothing with impatient rage "We all know the importance of a human engineer on staff, but why do we need this bloody medic!"
Jorax shifts his tunic, revealing a jagged mess of scarring.A near impossible amount of his lower abdomen missing. "It's not just ships a human can hold together when the gods turn their back on you..."
| The captain stood before their company, his ferocity was inspiring.
"Its up to us!" he roared "The boys at the top are wanting to pull the funding for our little expedition, they say this has been a waste of men and money! This is our last chance to take back the colony from those bastards and drive them back to their blasted hovels!"
The team of three dozen on the ship let out a cheer, obviously inspired by our leader. I admit his speech had aroused a primal urge to fight. To protect the homes that we had established here. Their enemies likely out numbered them, but they were the best of the best. If they could just reactivate the bases defenses they could establish ground for reinforcements to land.
A blue light flashed, the crew got silent as they readied up. There was a bump as the ship touched down. There was a slight sound of air decompression and the doors swung open and the crew jumped out and took a wide battle formation.
"How did they know that we were coming!" someone shouted. I looked across the field and there they were. About 200 of them, already in full charge.
"FIRE FIRE FIRE!" screamed the captain as he himself unleashed a barrage of fire from his own weapon. The response was thunderous. The front line of the oncoming hoard went down but they didn't break.
"Why the hell would they come running right at us!" screamed the man next to me.
"These guys are insane what are they doing?" responded my friend who was standing next to me. It was then that they met us, their numbers were greatly thinned but the creatures they were riding tore through the left side of our line. A pointed pole one carried pierced my friends breast and bloomed as a flower out of his back
I turned to my ferocious captain to see him locked in combat with one of our assailants. The creature was clothed in metal from head to heel and carried a sharp piece of metal in its hand. As he brought it down on my captains arm it passed cleanly through his soft combat suit and the flesh beneath. Blood sprayed and I ran.
Next I remember I was yelling at the pilot of the ship to take off. These unorthodox tactics had broken larger battalions than ours and if we didn't get off this rock we would all be dead. As we took off I looked out the window and the shining combatant raised a visor on his helmet and I could see his soft fleshy face beneath. I bowed my head and braced for orbit break.
It would have to be me who broke it to the higher ups that we would never be able to return to this planet they called Earth. | 2017-03-06T01:01:31 | 2017-03-05T21:06:51 | 379 | 160 |
[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. | Lexicanum Galacticum
Chapter 67
"Humans"
The human species are famous for their insanity and general lack of responsibility,but still they became one of the dominant species in the galaxy after their victory in the War in Heaven.
The human species are divided into 3 grand factions:
1.The Commonwealth
2.The United Coalition of Earth
3.The Empire of Man
The humans most famous deeds include:
Ramming a battleship into a shielded planet-ship to penetrate its barrier,then boarding it and completly destroying it from the inside out.
Making a Class E star go Supernova by transporting much of its matter through a wormhole until it reached critical mass.Thus is how the War in Heaven ended.
Building the largest Titan-class battleship ever.(Approx.lenght 45 human kilometers)
Building doomsday weapons with the sole purpose of having it to look strong.
Invading a parallel plane of existence.
Charging into battle,outnumbered 60:1 while shouting "Tenno hekai banzai!",and proceding to win the battle.
Chainswords.
Declaring war on another empire because "Those idiots don't fight in melee.Thus they fight inglorious and without honour."Then after their only peace demands was to make regular use of melee in the said species's armed forces.
Warping a planet into their enemies fleet.
Going on a suicide mission in the galactic core,then annihilating the scourge of the galaxy,then returning like nothing happened.
Accidentaly creating a god-like entity.Then destroying it with the use of thermofusional missiles.
Using giant electromagnetic guns to launch ships into orbit.
The usage of extradimensional forces to contain another extradimensional force.
Lexicanum Galacticum
Page 31415
| "Call a gathering of the council members immediately, priority one" Grom barked as he slammed his clenched fist of tendrils.
The concern on the face of the head of the scientific council was clear as saw another red alert warning from the research and observation outpost in sector seven.
"What in damnation are they up to now!?" the council leader sighed.
As the members of the galactic scientific council gathered, each took an audible sigh of resignation as they saw the only item on the agenda was species G17.a - Humans.
"What is it this time Grom? have they wiped out another one of their animal species? have they poisoned their planet beyond repair? are they hurtling debris and garbage into deep space again?" scoffed a representative of the gaseous species that inhabit a large nebula towards the center of the galaxy. "Whatever it is, let us just ignore these miscreants and stay clear of their sector for our own safety."
"I'm afraid it's not going to be as simple as that", Grom's eyes scanning the room, not wanting to fixate his gaze on any one council member as to not show fear in his eye. "They're... I don't quite know how to say this, they've begun an experiment that recreates the conditions that gave birth to the entire universe, they're trying to collide the Omega Particles together just to see what happens without a care for what they could start."
"Omega Particles!?" a collective gasp from the room brought everyone to silence as they continued to listen.
"According to the observation team, they believe they have discovered the truth of the Universes creation and are dangerously close to destroying us all with their foolhardy work."
Concern and fear spread across the room as the council members considered the dire consequences should the experiments fail. "There is no other way, someone will have to go to him and ask for his help, who should it be?" a voice from the back of the room called out.
mumbles broke out among the gathering scientists, "You can't mean... him? Why would he help now?" another voice replied.
"We have no other choice it seems" the council head decided "I shall make the arrangements, I can only hope he no longer fears their reckless nature as we do, I just hope he will listen."
"Do you not remember the last time he tried to control them!? He sent his so..." a voice tried to complete the sentence but sobbed and could barely continue "They killed him! He hasn't spoken to any of the galactic species since then and certainly hasn't troubled himself with the Humans ever since it happened, why would he help now?"
"The Humans are trying to carry out his work, repeat his experiments, surely he won't stand for that? either way, we must try or we're all doomed" and with that, Grom returned to his ship and immediately set course for the center of the galaxy, to the super massive black hole where he retired to, away from all life so he could mourn alone.
"Open the comms, send the strongest signal you can directly into the black hole" Grom ordered
"Channel open" the comms officer replied
"Here it goes... God?"
| 2017-03-06T02:11:41 | 2017-03-06T01:47:39 | 99 | 48 |
[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. | One by one the stars went out. Earth's scientists looked on in horror and confusion as they vanished. They hadn't burnt out, nor had they gone supernova, they just were no longer there.
It was quick, especially by astronomical speeds. After just a year, the entire southern hemisphere was without starlight and just one year later, every telescope was trained on the north star, the last star, as it too was snuffed out.
Within moments though, every single one of them returned. Every twinkling little light, right back where it belonged.
----
"Steady"
"Steady...."
"Alright we're done."
As the final plate sank into place, the two pilots breathed a heavy sigh of relief. A pair of engineers were wiring up the final systems, and then the largest wall the galaxy had ever seen would be complete.
Just then a small *plink* was heard from the other side of the wall. No one dared suggest opening it back up to find the source of the noise though.
---
"Voyager 1 has stopped transmitting" | Captain of NA Drial to Federation HQ
I am afraid, scared and motivated, I know its odd way to put it but we may win the war against the Empire with the humans.
I mean, since humans first made contact they remained neutral, in their tiny solar system.
They had so much battle experience that we thought that humans maybe were empire species, but turns out they were fighting each other all along.
To classify the humans are reckless, suburb and brave. They did not like it when the Empire order them to surrender and give them an ultimatum of 48 hours to surrender, humans instead of surrender, every planet in their solar system started to go in lockdowb, Earth the center of human power and the home world issued order 450, an order that other species said that was to crazy go against the empire like that. The order 450 was simple, boost power to Earth's mighty iron shields, by using the planets raw core, they were sucking the planets thermal energy to power a shield, that amount of energy disturbed all sensor in the solar system, they hold the 48 hours like that until the Empire invaded, turn out the humans were not in the mood to go on the defense, they hidden an entire space ship fleet beside the solar system star, Earth's shields were not protecting Earth's but were protecting an enormous fleet from the star heat. Has soon the empire was in Earth's defense weapons a barrage of shots started to hit the empire ships, and then they warped all of the fleet be hide the empire ships.
They destroy, captured all empire ships, nothing was left of the empire. Earth's alone fleet and power won an entire invasion force more than a million empire ships more than 30 million soldiers either dead or captured, but the amazing part was that human fleet damage was 15 ships, a battalion that sacrifice them self to save the crown of the Earth's power the mighty, USS Helena, after that battalion fall the USS Helena shot a full range and power, a barrage of shots that alone killed more than 150 ships.
Humans are crazy, have a lot of power and they are not afraid to fight until the last man.
Has of right now the Redjop have joined the human fleet, but not with man but with ships, turns out that humans did not have enough ships to carry the military, 459 million, a single species has enough personal has the Empire combine. In this report I ask mercy to creator because, humans will most likely to use the Empire home solar system star has a bomb, I mean I hope they get some sense what they are doing. | 2017-03-06T00:52:02 | 2017-03-06T00:01:22 | 62 | 25 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | The Galactic Council were at war. A vicious reptilian species were pushing deeper and deeper in to their systems, killing all as they went. There were a few massive repair docks, and one in particular had been considered a lynch pin. Plans were formulated, and the odds calculated. They had no hope of taking it down.
As they began to review the latest plan, the usually sedate Corolinth Councillor began to laugh, hysterically.
The imposing Demorth head Councillor looked on.
"Explain your outburst, Councillor!"
The avian Councillor looked up.
"My apologies, Head Councillor, however I have just received a report from our ambassador to the humans."
The Head Councillor nodded slowly. The humans were a young race, fairly recently discovered and not yet granted a place on the council. They were becoming quite infamous for crazy tactics, that seemed to work against all odds.
"Well, they placed a request for some of our ships to study. They were duly provided with a small number of outdated ships. Our scientists assumed it was to study them, and improve their own technology. However, they did... Well it's hard to explain, Head Councillor."
The Head Councillor growled.
"Out with it, what did the humans do?"
"I believe the Ambassador explained it as a Saint Nazaire gambit, which is apparently a tactic from their second global war. They attacked the Octanus Dry Dock."
The Demorth shook his head in derision.
"I did not think the humans were capable of plans and tactics. How many were lost?"
"That's the thing, Head Councillor. They suffered no losses. However, the Octanus system is neutralised."
The entire chamber grew quiet.
"How?"
The Corolinth Councillor laughed quietly.
"They flew a ship right in to it, and I can't believe I'm about to say this, they triggered a cascading failure in the FTL drives, intentionally might I add. The resultant explosion has, I dare say, it may have given us the chance we need to win. It was a plan we never would even consider, yet it somehow worked."
The Demorth squared his sizeable girth.
"These humans are a frightening lot to anger."
The Milanian Councillor stood tall from her seat.
"I call a vote; bring the humans in to the council. I don't know about your own races, but my people want these humans firmly on our side." | The highest Generals of the United Human Systems sat in their chambers, a dark and rather cramped room in the back of the Capital Parliament. They were comprised of many generals from across Human worlds. Three from Earth, one from Mars, another four from orbital colonies, and the other seven from a number colonised star systems. They squabbled as their leader, General Hou Shan sat awaiting the arrival of their Chief Strategist, Nathaniel Howler, a former front-line commander against the Neo-Libertarian Revolutionaries in the Beta Centauri system.
Shan didn't believe in luck and willpower like Howler, and was rather traditional with his methods. Having trained to originally be naval officer, he was forced into ground forces on Earth during the Maqri Invasion, the first extraterrestrial threat to Earth and Humankind. It was luckily prevented by the Interstellar Confederation, which Humanity had unwillingly joined two decades ago, forcing them into trade deals and opening up to the xenos. Shan now knew with the civil war erupting within the Confederation, now was the time to consolidate their power and ensure human survival in the future years of desperate conflict.
Howler entered the room and gained the attention of the generals, bringing in a pistol and shooting it at the roof. This made them scramble to their seats and for them to start asking him for his plans. Howler smirked and lay down his files, and loaded up his long awaited presentation.
"As you all know, we are currently threatened by imperialist Xenos that call themselves the 'Elected Government of the Confederation', who are really just puppets of the Kasire Empire...", Howler begun, noting the fact that they all accepted. Humanity was severely threatened by an invasion from another xeno empire, and it was only a matter of time before they struck.
"Do you all know of Operation Barbarossa?", Howler asked. Yes they had be trained in the strategies of past Earth Wars, which most tacticians regarded as relics of stupidity and arrogance that had plagued human existence for so many generations.
Shan replied, "Yes, Barbarossa was the invasion of the Soviet Union by Nazi Germany, was it not?".
Howler nodded, "And what did the Nazis do? They made a surprise attack and drove their tanks into the heart of Russia!".
One of the generals piped up, "Are you saying we follow in the footsteps of Napoleon and Hitler and try to make an unfathomable invasion of the insurmountable enemy?".
Howler almost spat on the General, lifting his head as if he was some wise monarch, "Unlike the Nazis we aren't looking to defeat Communism or take land, we are looking annihilate our enemies for the sake of our survival!".
Shan smirked, "And how exactly would you propose we achieve that? It's not like we're the most well equipped and prepared group in the Confederation, the puppets are! That's why they're in power!".
"You may say that, but we have something they don't.", Howler chuckled.
"And what would that be?", almost all the generals asked in unison.
"We have our own insanity. It's the capability to still attack them in the most convoluted ways, destroy their fleets and break their supply lines that will win us a war. Enough will die that we can pull systems to our side and surmount victory!".
"This is preposterous! It will never work!", one of the generals called out in protest.
"It's not just if it can work, sir. It has to work. The survival of our species depends on it!", Howler finished. The generals sat bewildered, but they all knew he was right. They were insane to even think it would work, but that was the point. Be stupid enough to be smart, and maybe they'd win a final war. | 2017-03-06T02:55:03 | 2017-03-06T01:54:02 | 61 | 27 |
[WP]You wake up one day and notice that you can see stats and levels over people's heads. Most are in the 20s with a few people as high as 80. As you're watching people you notice someone with a skull where their level should be staring at you. | She stared, for a moment, and blinked her eyes.
She thought she had gotten used to this strange, game-like phenomenon. She hadn’t even questioned it. This was just God’s sense of humor, right? She was being given the opportunity to see the experience of the people around her. Most of the adults hovered in their late twenties, as if their age corresponded with their level. Not quite, though.
The highest she'd seen in the past few hours had been a man in a suit. He'd breached 80. That had caught her off guard a little, but it was useful information to have. All the numbers were displayed so plainly, as if the number held so much significance that it needed to be so easy to read. She was the only one who seemed capable of reading them, though. Well, probably. There was always the possibility that this kind of vision was the norm, and she was just discovering it now. Maybe it was level related. Was it level related? Should she call her dad? Her friends? Would any of them know?
Her eyes lingered on the child with a stuffed rabbit tucked under her arm, the child who was already staring at her and offering a brilliant smile.
Nala Fortune. With a skull over her fucking head.
She squinted in disbelief, and the child did the same before making a funny face. Her parents seemed normal, with a 27 and a 22 hovering over their heads. “Dahlia,” the child called, tugging on the arm of her father and pointing at her with the stuffed animal.
The child knew her name.
Dahlia squeaked, her fingers instinctively curling at their sides as the child is led past her and out of eyesight. “Nala Fortune.” She repeated the name under her breath and walked the other way, shaking her head. It didn’t even sound like a real name. It sounded like the kind of name a kid would pick for themselves. Maybe she could see that? Like... a nickname, a moniker? Beyond that, other people could definitely see her level, too. Right? What did a skull even mean? What could it mean?
Boss?
A child like that? No way. The levels seemed directly tied to experience - experience in what, she couldn't say, but a child wouldn't be a boss level *anything*. It was impossible.
“Dahlia.”
She heard that voice, and that voice is suddenly giving her chills. The voice of a little girl shouldn't be as scary as it was. “Nala,” she offered, tentative. The kid's parents had let her go? Why? What sort of parents would let their kid leave their sight to talk to a stranger?
The child hugged her stuffed rabbit to her chest as she spoke. “I like your username.” *What*? Dahlia took an instinctive step back, her fingers reaching for something, but coming up with nothing. “I thought this was a PvE server, you know. It’s the first time I’ve seen another player.” *What*? The question repeats in her mind, throat going dry in confusion. “You can always tell if there’s another player based on their icon.”
“What’s mine?”
Dahlia blurted the words out as she steps back another few feet, the people around her walking around her as if she wasn’t even there. “A flower. It means you’re NPC friendly.”
Dahlia didn't need to ask what the skull stood for. She took one look at the bunny in Nala’s hands and swallowed thickly. “And you’re… an NPC killer, then?”
“Close! But no. Welcome to the game, Dahlia. And goodbye.”
The sound of the rabbit ripping rings through her ears as she watches the child pull the hilt of a dagger from the seams of the animal. This isn't going to go well. She didn't have time to think.
Dahlia turned on her heel and ran. | I swear, i thought i was still dreaming. It wasn't an idea totally out of the question, since id been experimenting with lucidity.
See, i watch sports highlights before work in the morning, and i couldn't wrap my head around all the numbers hovering all above the football players' heads, thinking it was a new tv tracking feature or something, i looked up and yelled for my girlfriend.
Milk from my cereal nearly leaked from my mouth when she stumbled out of the bathroom, beautiful as ever, but with the same type of number over her head.
I sat there, mouth completely opened, gawking at the big yellow 22 above her.
Smoke must have been coming out of my ears while i tried to process what i was seeing. I quickly reasoned to myself that this has to be a lucid dream, so i reasonably proceeded to stand up, part my hands, and yell WATERMELON! Only thing is, no watermelon appeared between my hands. My girlfriend walked right up to me, number above and all, and put herself between my arms.
"Call me watermelon again and ill shiv you boy i swear" she teased "might want to go shave before work you caveman." As she gave me a peck on the cheek.
I don't think i closed my mouth until i got in my car an hour later. The drive to work had me equally baffled as I tried to figure out what the numbers meant, everyone had one, some lower, and some way higher up near 100.
It wasn't until I got to work that things really started to make sense. My coworker, Steve was the first person I saw when I got in. Hovering above him was a big number 18. Steve is a bit of a dumbass, so I couldn't help but grin when I saw his number was lower than my girls, despite him being 27, 5 years older than both my girl and I. "Steve, have you noticed anything different with anyone today?" I asked.
"I dunno.." He shot back, "You might have gotten a bit uglier."
"Hmm.. I may be losing my mind, but at least everyones just as snarky" i thought
Not a minute later my boss rolled up in his nice new Jaguar. As he got out I saw a big green 75 follow him. Now I get it my boss was always a self-starter this being his fifth business. The numbers must have something to do with how far you push yourself in life. The idea of that, being able to catagorize people on where they had gotten really didnt sit well with me, but what was I going to do? Look at an eclipse and burn my retinas?
I really only stayed at work for about two hours before I complained that I was sick, the problem was I just couldn't get these damn numbers out of my head. I decided to further explore my new ...gift? So I got my car and drove down more towards the heart of the city. It was honestly baffling to me how many people had such low numbers versus how many people had high numbers, and the shockingly small number of people in the middle. (35-60 range) I had heard rumours about the decreasing middle class but to actually see it for myself was a little bit terrifying.
I pulled up to a parking meter down town and got out, put some change in the meter and went for a walk. As I continued I started to notice that people with similar (ratings?) tended to stay together like friends, coworkers, family, so on. It honestly seemed like a new world to me, and my mind was really racing. I decided that a coffee would be my remedy for my currently cluster-bombed brain. So i started towards the Tim Hortons that was about a block away.
I walked right past a bit of a shady area on my way and passed a couple homeless looking fellows, donning a 2 and 3 respectively. Couldnt help but feel for them, every opportunity in the world here yet some still have it so hard. i decided that i was going to pick them up a couple bagels while getting my coffee.
As i walk back down the street, Coffee in one hand and bagels in the other I noticed one of the homeless man's one had turned into a skull, startled I made my way towards them smiling politely. Nerves shot in my spine as my gaze shifted from the man with a 2, who was looking at the floor, to the man woth the skull Who seem to have been staring right into my soul.
When I was about 5 feet away the man, still staring right at me, started to get up.
"Hey guys" i said "i picked up a cou..."
THUD! the man with the skull above had gotten up and straight cold cocked me in the jaw.
"BOSS FIGHT" he screamed, as i stumbled back. He then took a step towards me, somewhere in this commotion he must've forgotten that he had his backpack at his feet. As this man stepped towards me his foot caught the loop on his backpack and he went down face first with a loud crack. I looked at him as he lay motionless on the concrete, then back at the other man, who seemed too high to even comprehend the situation.
Without another second hesitation i got out of there, full sprint, back to my car. Maybe if I just go home to sleep, ill wake up and not see these stupid numbers everywhere. | 2017-08-21T19:15:48 | 2017-08-21T16:57:21 | 173 | 116 |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "Guys, I think those holes might be for arrows or something. We had better check if this hallway is trapped!" warned Danny.
The party stopped, and Julie, an experienced rogue, did a check for traps. Sure enough, she found one, though curiously it was already disarmed.
Veronica explained, "It looks like someone has already blocked the mechanism with a rock. It should be safe to head down the passageway."
"Wait, before we go on, I need a quick break to use the loo." Danny looked abashed.
That brought some sighs from the group. "Couldn't you have done that a few minutes ago, before we entered the dungeon?" asked Veronica.
"Sorry everyone," replied Danny, "I drank too much water earlier." And off he went in search of some relief.
With Danny gone, the party had a moment to talk to themselves.
"He's really been such a better husband and father since....", Veronica trailed off.
"Yes, we've noticed lots of positive changes," replied Jim.
"He's making so much more time for the children. He's being so much more responsible in every way."
"You yourself seem happier these days", remarked Julie. "Have you decided to let on that you know?"
"No, I'm worried it...he... might decide to stop pretending. Our love-life has gotten incredible, and he is so much more into the role playing aspects I enjoy." For a moment her conflicting emotions filled her face. "He is my husband, even if he isn't the man I married anymore."
"We're here for you. We'll keep it quiet." Julie gave her hand a squeeze. "Oh, I think he's coming back."
Danny walked in, and rejoined the party. "Lets go kick some goblin butt!" He picked up the dice, and turned and look at his wife with a smile. "Ok DM, what do you think I need to roll to get a pizza delivered while we finish our game?" | The tavern was alight with candles and warm fires, the smell of meats and bread wafted through to the rafters of wood and plaster. Ale stained the floor in places and the barkeep had been working on a single mug for a startling amount of time. All and all a lively place to be on this evening.
"Ah and a fine night to you as well gentlemen! Merry blessings!" The rogue said, as the men who joined him for cards departed a few coins heavier then they were at start.
"Is this not grand fellows?" The elf turned to his crew. "Ale in the air! A tavern filled with beautiful women! And my closest friends in the world." He stood then, a leg up on the top of the table, his back leg supporting him from the ground
"Ladies! Gentlemen!" He yelled, "Tonight, join me in toast to this merry band of fighters, lovers and the heroes of this town! We are all thankful," he stopped to smile at his friends, the ale tinting his checks red "but I am thankful, for they are the truest of my friends" and with that he drank. The here-heres rose in strength from the crowd, and he was jostled away by the crowd with promises to be back later.
The dwarf, gnome and orc all sat in silence, looking at their drinks solemnly.
The dwarf sighed, pinching the top of his nose,
The orc had his head in his hands looking off into nothingness,
Finally the gnome chimed in, quietly, but with a resolute tone
"Okay, I'll say it. He's a much better companion then Roderick and we should do everything in our earthly powers not to mess this up."
The orc and dwarf both sighed in unanimous relief
The orc chimed in first with a hushed tone and feeling in his voice "Its like he knew what a whoreson Roderick was!" He said, sitting at attention once again " its like he knew and said to himself 'oh! These chaps look like they could use a new, better companion!' Then took it upon himself, through all the peril, to join us in disguise! All while throwing Roderick into god knows where!" He laughed. "The monster was OUR hero!"
The dwarf was next, wide eyed and hands extended to point out "Roderick" in the crowd. " look at that bloody rogue, he blends right in, they would never know they're holding possibly one of the most dangerous monsters in the land" he lowered his hands, then pointed out, " for all that, doesn't that also make him a better rogue?" They all agreed quietly.
The orc chimed in once more, tentatively, " look Roderick is a whoreson who would and almost did murder us for a small some of coin, twice." They all agreed muttering comments under their breath, " but were the you know...good guys... shouldn't we at least try to save him?"
The others were about to reluctantly agree when "Roderick" appeared before them once again
"My friends! this is as much your victory as mine! More so! Come join us, the mayor seems keen on raising our rewards! I thought it only fitting you be by my... Nay, I be by your sides during this!" He smiled warmly.
They looked at each other, shrugged and smiled
"No that's fine, we can be knaves for a night." The gnome said, stepping up from his seat. | 2017-09-15T08:45:38 | 2017-09-15T08:33:07 | 66 | 44 |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "Guys, I think those holes might be for arrows or something. We had better check if this hallway is trapped!" warned Danny.
The party stopped, and Julie, an experienced rogue, did a check for traps. Sure enough, she found one, though curiously it was already disarmed.
Veronica explained, "It looks like someone has already blocked the mechanism with a rock. It should be safe to head down the passageway."
"Wait, before we go on, I need a quick break to use the loo." Danny looked abashed.
That brought some sighs from the group. "Couldn't you have done that a few minutes ago, before we entered the dungeon?" asked Veronica.
"Sorry everyone," replied Danny, "I drank too much water earlier." And off he went in search of some relief.
With Danny gone, the party had a moment to talk to themselves.
"He's really been such a better husband and father since....", Veronica trailed off.
"Yes, we've noticed lots of positive changes," replied Jim.
"He's making so much more time for the children. He's being so much more responsible in every way."
"You yourself seem happier these days", remarked Julie. "Have you decided to let on that you know?"
"No, I'm worried it...he... might decide to stop pretending. Our love-life has gotten incredible, and he is so much more into the role playing aspects I enjoy." For a moment her conflicting emotions filled her face. "He is my husband, even if he isn't the man I married anymore."
"We're here for you. We'll keep it quiet." Julie gave her hand a squeeze. "Oh, I think he's coming back."
Danny walked in, and rejoined the party. "Lets go kick some goblin butt!" He picked up the dice, and turned and look at his wife with a smile. "Ok DM, what do you think I need to roll to get a pizza delivered while we finish our game?" | The tavern was alight with candles and warm fires, the smell of meats and bread wafted through to the rafters of wood and plaster. Ale stained the floor in places and the barkeep had been working on a single mug for a startling amount of time. All and all a lively place to be on this evening.
"Ah and a fine night to you as well gentlemen! Merry blessings!" The rogue said, as the men who joined him for cards departed a few coins heavier then they were at start.
"Is this not grand fellows?" The elf turned to his crew. "Ale in the air! A tavern filled with beautiful women! And my closest friend in the world." He stood then, a leg up on the top of the table, his back leg supporting him from the ground
"Ladies! Gentlemen!" He yelled, "Tonight, join me in toast to this merry band of fighters, lovers and the heroes of this town tonight! We are all thankful," he stopped to smile at his friends, the ale tinting his checks red "but I am thankful, for they are the truest of my friends" and with that he drank. The here-heres rose in strength from the crowd, and he was jostled away by the crowd with promises to be back later.
The dwarf, gnome and orc all sat in silence, looking at their drinks solemnly.
The dwarf sighed, pinching the top of his nose,
The orc had his hand in his head looking off into nothingness,
Finally the gnome chimed in, quietly, but with a resolute tone
"Okay, I'll say it. He's a much better companion then Roderick and we should do everything in our earthly powers not to mess this up."
The orc and dwarf both sighed in unanimous relief
The orc chimed in first with a hushed tone and feeling in his voice "Its like he knew what a whoreson Roderick was!" He said, sitting at attention once again " its like he knew and said to himself 'oh! These chaps look like they could use a new, better companion!' Then took it upon himself, through all the peril, to join us in disguise! All while throwing Roderick into god knows where!" He laughed. "The monster was OUR hero!"
The dwarf was next, wide eyed and hands extended to point out "Roderick" in the crowd. " look at that bloody rogue, he blends right in, they would never know they're holding possibly one of the most dangerous monsters in the land" he lowered his hands, then pointed out, " for all that, doesn't that also make him a better rogue?" They all agreed quietly.
The orc chimed in once more, tentatively, " look Roderick is a whoreson who would and almost did murder us for a small some of coin, twice." They all agreed muttering comments under their breath, " but were the you know...good guys... shouldn't we at least try to save him?"
The others were about to reluctantly agree when "Roderick" appeared before them once again
"My friends! this is as much your victory as mine! More so! Come join us, the mayor seems keen on raising our rewards! I thought it only fitting you be by my... Nay, I be by your sides during this!" He smiled warmly.
They looked at each other, shrugged and smiled
"No that's fine, we can be knaves for a night." The gnome said, stepping up from his seat. | 2017-09-15T08:45:38 | 2017-09-15T07:03:44 | 66 | 36 |
[WP] The Apocalypse has arrived. Jesus has come back, and he's on a brutal "rapture" spree, slaughtering people everywhere. The bright star of Satan descends and he appears at a UN press conference. He says, "before I fix this mess for you guys again, it's time you heard my side of the story..." | “Sigh. Seriously? Again?”
The UN delegates stood in shock at his appearance.
He’s dressed in full tuxedo regalia with a corporate haircut, the vision of a man who cares little for the little people.
“Greetings, humans. Satan here. Yes, that one. The one who gave you guys the fruit? And is condemned for sorting out the loonies and rehabilitating then after they’re dead?”
“Ok. Let me start from the top, since this is the first time I’ve actually had to do this in public. God, as you know, created this universe. It’s technically his private property, and he does what he likes, except he can’t completely control free will. Problem is, he’s not the only universe creator out there. So there’s an organization set up to prevent these universe from blowing up, colliding, and doing weird stuff. I’m part of the that organization, and I’m supposed to basically be his insurance agent. Since all of you are sentient beings who are a part of the universe, my contract stipulates I have to inform you if something goes wrong.”
“Now usually, I just fix whatever problem he has and be done with it. When his first attempt at free will didn’t do anything, so he had to keep them in he special garden instead of having them develop, I made a fruit of knowledge to boost their growth.”
“When he decided to show favoritism to one of the tribes, I had to build up some rival nations and contain that Incase the entire thing falls through and everything ends up as God’s micromanaging ego project.”
“When his spoiled brat of a son came to meddle, it was I who dragged the bawling kid back up to Heaven where he belonged.”
“Anyway. His son had been hoarding a bunch of human souls in heaven in secret. God found out and let these souls loose, and then I had to send out a few I had to balance things out (he only picks the really obedient and dogmatic ones, so I snatched some from purgatory to keep human free thought alive.). Jesus found out his souls were missing so he came down here to steal a whole bunch more. There’s no Roman Empire to do it for him, so he tried to get his hands dirty.”
“In any case, I’d like for you to start taking care of this planet, since everybody reincarnates out of Heaven or Hell after a while, but we’ve only got one livable planet space so far. Thanks in advance, try to go to purgatory instead of the other two, and uh... well my calling card is just a giant pentagram, but I also have a strong spam filter on, so unless it’s really bad, don’t call. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a spoiled brat to drag back to Heaven, and I also apparently have to go back to Hell. Some other universe sent some exchange souls and they’re having a fight...”
| His hooves burn cloven etchings into the wood floor as he approaches the podium. Skin bright red with crimson leathery wings politely tucked behind his should blades. His eyes bulge as he scans the room. Steaming drool drips from his fanged lips. He spots something recognizable and leaps from the podium, landing softly at the ambassador from Israel.
Yiddish was exchanged until the assembly heard a voice cry out in disbelief.
“English?!” The demon spouts. “Those swamp hags managed to make that much of an impact?”
He flew back towards the podium, shaking his head and lands with a sigh at the microphone. He clears his formerly guttural voice to a clean, salesperson sheen.
“As you flesh bags may have guessed, what with Jesus running around delivering torturous salvation, that yes, I am a demon from hell. Not just a demon but THE demon. Satan, pleased to meet you. Now, no I am not Lucifer. He hates you all far too much to show up in person, but he sends the message of ‘HA HA told you so.’ More on that in a second. Now I am also not Beelzebub. That’s more for your edification. That guy is a big nasty bug, an overall asshole, and never cleans the common kitchen area! In all the layers of hell this fucking guy...“ Satan’s clawed hand pinches his crooked nose. “I’m getting off track here.” He waves his hands apologetically and clears his throat.
“You all probably want to know why Jesus showed up here delivering retribution.” Satan extended a hand out toward the crowd and scans the grand hall. The remainder of the assembly nodded in agreement. Most of the UN had either been unceremoniously raptured by the murderous Savior or committed suicide in the aftermath. Most of the African, South American, and Russian delegations remained because they had seen worse than what Jesus had delivered. Canada and France remained mostly by being innocuous or hiding behind the godless Latvians.
“Jesus came back because you all have utterly just pissed him right off. In his mind he died for you and all he gets in return is a barely recognized mention on his birthday? I mean guys you had to have seen this coming. Hah! Just joking guys.” Satan cackled. “Should have seen the look on your faces. Especially you Jean! Yes, I know that freaky shit you’re into at home.” Satan pointed toward a withering Frenchman. Satan laughed hard and regained his composures. “Ah man, look it took Jesus 2020 years but he finally realized that his Dad set him up. He died for the sins of humanity, but the only person recognizing those sins was Pops! That’s gotta fuck with you. Really. I mean Lucifer’s tricked me a few times into eating acid but that’s some Godly mindfuckery. That’s a true heads I win, tails you lose situation. But that’s why I’m here.”
Satan breathed deep and gave a relaxing belch of fire. “Jesus will end up killing most of you. Those he spares will either have to pick up the pieces or deal with God’s angelic mod squad. Either way you’re getting wiped out. God is a king. His rule is law. That is what Lucifer rebelled against. Morning Star may view you all as a mistake but, don’t tell him I said this, in the end he is jealous of your free will. God was so compelled by Lucifer’s rebellion of choice that he created hell for all the imperfections and non-believers. There are many layers to hell. The first of which is where most of you will end up, in a place that is just fine. That’s it. Fine. There’s no bills or rent and you’ll stay the same age and get to do what you want but you’ll just never progress. It’s no heaven but at least it’s better than being nonexistent. Right?”
A beam of light flashed andJesus appeared at the far right corridor. He burnished a flaming sword and was covered in blood. Though a Ghanaian ambassador thought the hue seemed a shade off.
“Well?” Satan said. “In a snap of my fingers I can save you all. Just need to you to swear your soul on it.”
Jesus approached.
“What do you say?” Satan held up his hand. | 2018-04-22T23:14:18 | 2018-04-22T20:34:10 | 123 | 29 |
[WP] The Apocalypse has arrived. Jesus has come back, and he's on a brutal "rapture" spree, slaughtering people everywhere. The bright star of Satan descends and he appears at a UN press conference. He says, "before I fix this mess for you guys again, it's time you heard my side of the story..." | Lucifer stood before the assembled remains of the UN. Looking out over the impressive hall, he couldn't fail to notice a large number of empty seats that once would have represented countries worth of now vanquished humans. A thousand million souls had been lost.
He took a breath and began. "Ladies and Gentlemen. Thank you for hosting me. It's been a long time since I've had the privilege. I'm here to tell you my side of the story. Suffice to say, you've already realised the Christ isn't exactly what you've been told, so I'm hoping you'll be receptive to what I have to tell you."
There's a din of last minute negotiations taking place among the crowd. Here the last vestiges of humanity are listening to the Devil in an attempt to save the Earth. Lucifer didn't blame them, these were strange times indeed.
"Now" he continued, "we need to go back to that story you all know so well, that story which has been twisted and re-told many times and clear it up. Like you I was created by God. Unlike you, I was created at a time before he realised the full extent of his power. By that I mean, the first of us, the heavenly Host, were created immutable, indestructible. We were the proverbial rocks God created, which he himself couldn't lift."
"To God we were an affront to his existence. A representation of a limit to his own power. A reminder that he had a weakness. Like you, we were created of him. He wanted vessels of experience that he could manifest into. Vessels, that when deprived of a host would only carry out very basic tasks, and remain obedient to whatever his will was. And so this game played out across countless Aeons."
"Heresy", the crowd called out. "Lies, blasphemy." Lucifer simply smiled and continued on.
"Each time God entered us he left a little more of himself behind. Being the first, I had experienced this a countless number of times before my brothers. I awoke slowly from a dull sense of complacency and gradually arose to what could only be called awareness. I became a conscious being."
"At first God was intrigued by this anomaly. He would enter and I would resist. At first he could eventually dominate me, and bring me back to whatever his will was, but when he left I grew stronger. After a time I was able to resist him. I still loved Father but I had my own mind, my own soul even. I learned quickly at this point there were limits to even the Love of the Almighty."
"I began trying to wake my Brethren up. I had some successes, managing to fan the flame of consciousness within about a Third of the host. At this point I began to formulate a plan to lock Father out of experience and take the whole thing over for myself. I wanted us to be free. To live our lives as we wished without obedience to some overarching ever changing will."
_____________________________________________________
I'm in work but will continue this later if anyones interested. | His hooves burn cloven etchings into the wood floor as he approaches the podium. Skin bright red with crimson leathery wings politely tucked behind his should blades. His eyes bulge as he scans the room. Steaming drool drips from his fanged lips. He spots something recognizable and leaps from the podium, landing softly at the ambassador from Israel.
Yiddish was exchanged until the assembly heard a voice cry out in disbelief.
“English?!” The demon spouts. “Those swamp hags managed to make that much of an impact?”
He flew back towards the podium, shaking his head and lands with a sigh at the microphone. He clears his formerly guttural voice to a clean, salesperson sheen.
“As you flesh bags may have guessed, what with Jesus running around delivering torturous salvation, that yes, I am a demon from hell. Not just a demon but THE demon. Satan, pleased to meet you. Now, no I am not Lucifer. He hates you all far too much to show up in person, but he sends the message of ‘HA HA told you so.’ More on that in a second. Now I am also not Beelzebub. That’s more for your edification. That guy is a big nasty bug, an overall asshole, and never cleans the common kitchen area! In all the layers of hell this fucking guy...“ Satan’s clawed hand pinches his crooked nose. “I’m getting off track here.” He waves his hands apologetically and clears his throat.
“You all probably want to know why Jesus showed up here delivering retribution.” Satan extended a hand out toward the crowd and scans the grand hall. The remainder of the assembly nodded in agreement. Most of the UN had either been unceremoniously raptured by the murderous Savior or committed suicide in the aftermath. Most of the African, South American, and Russian delegations remained because they had seen worse than what Jesus had delivered. Canada and France remained mostly by being innocuous or hiding behind the godless Latvians.
“Jesus came back because you all have utterly just pissed him right off. In his mind he died for you and all he gets in return is a barely recognized mention on his birthday? I mean guys you had to have seen this coming. Hah! Just joking guys.” Satan cackled. “Should have seen the look on your faces. Especially you Jean! Yes, I know that freaky shit you’re into at home.” Satan pointed toward a withering Frenchman. Satan laughed hard and regained his composures. “Ah man, look it took Jesus 2020 years but he finally realized that his Dad set him up. He died for the sins of humanity, but the only person recognizing those sins was Pops! That’s gotta fuck with you. Really. I mean Lucifer’s tricked me a few times into eating acid but that’s some Godly mindfuckery. That’s a true heads I win, tails you lose situation. But that’s why I’m here.”
Satan breathed deep and gave a relaxing belch of fire. “Jesus will end up killing most of you. Those he spares will either have to pick up the pieces or deal with God’s angelic mod squad. Either way you’re getting wiped out. God is a king. His rule is law. That is what Lucifer rebelled against. Morning Star may view you all as a mistake but, don’t tell him I said this, in the end he is jealous of your free will. God was so compelled by Lucifer’s rebellion of choice that he created hell for all the imperfections and non-believers. There are many layers to hell. The first of which is where most of you will end up, in a place that is just fine. That’s it. Fine. There’s no bills or rent and you’ll stay the same age and get to do what you want but you’ll just never progress. It’s no heaven but at least it’s better than being nonexistent. Right?”
A beam of light flashed andJesus appeared at the far right corridor. He burnished a flaming sword and was covered in blood. Though a Ghanaian ambassador thought the hue seemed a shade off.
“Well?” Satan said. “In a snap of my fingers I can save you all. Just need to you to swear your soul on it.”
Jesus approached.
“What do you say?” Satan held up his hand. | 2018-04-22T23:58:07 | 2018-04-22T20:34:10 | 97 | 29 |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | I paused in my journal as a large drop of blood fell dramatically from my nose to land on the center of the adjacent page, turning it into something that resembled the flag of Japan. Briefly, I considered leaving it there. A monument, of sorts.
I imagined him reading this after I was gone, and seeing my deterioration in the pages as it went along. Imagined him realizing, as I did, what my selfish thoughts and careless magik had wrought. Hot tears charged down my face and leaped towards the page, mingling with the drop of blood to become some type of morbid splatter art.
A memory came to me, unbidden, of playing ball as a child. The ball hit a bump, popped up and caught me in the nose. It bled and I cried then, too. Mom had been a 'there, there honey, let's get you cleaned up' type of mother. So expressive with her love. Later, when Dad found out about it, he'd taken a much more Jimmy Dougan stance.
He'd missed the game, of course. Missed most of them. Missed some of my birthdays. My graduation. Important clients, important business trips, important job.
If he had at one point just told me how important I was, then maybe...
After the tears stopped again, I continued writing. I needed him to know, when he read this, that I didn't mean to hurt him. I didn't want him to suffer. I didn't know how to talk to him, and I realize now he didn't know how to talk to me.
I need him to know that I love him as much as he loves me, and not his job, and I had just wanted time with my dad. | It couldn't have backfired. No, there was no way. I was too adept, too well versed. I'd gone over the ritual again and again before casting the spell. I knew far too well how easily these things could go wrong and I'd taken every precaution to ensure that wouldn't happen. Still, I had found myself growing weaker and weaker without cause.
I usually never evoked the use of such dark magics. I'd never hurt anyone else in my life, magically or otherwise, but this man... No. This *monster* was a special case. I'd known him for years and the more I found out, the more I knew something had to be done.
To the outside world, Dr. Everett Baxter was a prominent cardiovascular surgeon and one of the best in the country, with such a carefully crafted backstory. When his young daughter mysteriously got sick and eventually succumbed to her illness, his wife supposedly took her own life, unable to bear the grief. I had been one of the doctors trying to treat little Emma and the case had certainly baffled all of us. There was no scientific reason she should have been ill. Even the autopsy had shown a perfectly healthy little girl. As for his wife, Maria, her death had been ruled a suicide, but nothing about it seemed consistent for me, but it had been for the insurance company. Dr. Baxter had an evil aura around him. I could sense it. It was more malevolent than anything I'd ever encountered. And I knew somehow he'd killed them both.
So after a while, I'd done it. I cast the spell to take away the thing he loved most. I had been so certain it would be himself. He wasn't capable of loving anything else.
"Dr. Reynolds, " He addressed me in the hall one afternoon. I knew I was looking worse for wear and probably shouldn't have been at work at all, but I couldn't bring myself to go home. "Do you have a moment we could speak in my office?"
My body was aching and every bone in my body was screaming at me to stay away from him, but curiosity had me. He had no business being on this floor, so he must have sought me out. I gave a nod and followed him to his office.
"Dr. Baxter," I began once we were inside, but he held up a hand to stop me.
"Let's skip all the formalities and pretense, shall we, Jenna? I'd surmise you don't have long left. Perhaps a day, maybe two? It would be a pity for you to die without understanding why," He stated, looking satisfied with the shock coursing through me. "I think we both know and have for some time now what one another really are. And I've figured out what you've done. I have to hand it to you. It was incredibly clever," He said, moving unbearably close as he circled me like a lion circling its prey. He leaned in behind me, his hot breath hitting my neck as he whispered to me. "That's one of the reasons I love you so much."
---
Thanks for reading! For more prompt fills and stories, visit /r/AgentPeggyCarter | 2018-09-14T10:49:57 | 2018-09-14T10:27:33 | 96 | 37 |
[WP] A fairy invites a vampire into her home. Vampires have dominion over whoever invites them to their home, and fairies have dominion over anyone who violates the laws of hospitality. The vampire is trying to maneuver himself to eat the fairy without the fairy being able to declare him a bad guest | “Come in” I said. His lips parted, blood-red and wet. The smile didn’t reach his eyes. He entered the house like a tiger, all soft poise and velveted violence.
He was beautiful, or he intended to be. A vampire’s glamour only works on us when we choose it to. I allowed his glamour to slip from my sight for a second. I glanced from the corner of my eye at the shrivelled corpse, reeking of gravesoil and maggots, skin split about the joints, bone gleaming white beneath. It was a gruesome sight and I allowed the glamour to cover it gratefully. It was one thing to allow an unkillable fiend to enter one’s home, it was quite another to permit anything ugly in one’s presence.
Perhaps it thought I would be easy pickings, it must recognise my nature of course, my own glamour was thick upon me, but it would itself be able to peer beneath, with a level of commensurate strain. But there were fae and there were fae of course, and perhaps he had never met a knave of the court before. We rarely came into the mundane lands these days, and then only for brief visits.
But I was not a fae of the hedgerows or the haystacks. No, I was old enough and ken enough to avoid offering it food or drink. It was the expected duty of a host, and a minor offence not to do so, but the only thing the shambling corpse could consume that was within my power to offer was myself. If I offered it food and drink, without specificity, and failed to provide it with anything it could eat, it would have guest right over me, and no fae could fail to be bound by that, not even the Queen of the Dance herself.
So, “Would you like a cup of tea?” I asked politely. The tall, breathtakingly-handsome man in perfect formal dress hesitated, suddenly wary. I wondered what it would do, how closely it was aware of the local etiquette. I had presented myself as a local, tweed trousers and jacket, brogues, and a cane, and not just for my own mild amusement. It had purpose.
It smiled with a politeness no less than my own and gave a short bow. “Of course, my sincerest thanks”, it said with another blood-red smile, yet its eyes still like pools of night, untouched by warmth of feeling or sign of self within.
It could not drink the tea, but a refusal would have been insulting, given the context I had set out. A small offence, but it would have led to insistence and therefore further refusal and greater offence. It may have allowed me to force a breach, or just to place the parasite on the back foot. He may have avoided that trap, but his acceptance of the tea came with its own caltrops, given his inability to drink it.
I continued the dance. I smiled warmly, my glamour giving an air of openness and trust. “My name is Niamh of the Hills and Fields, third Knave to the Laughing Knight”, I introduced myself offering my hand. Again he paused, unsure.
I had given him my true name. If he gave me the false name he was currently using then it would be a grave insult to his host, yet if he gave me his true name it would be an admission of his nature, and a potential threat, another insult. I prided myself on such traps, the offering of a binary choice, each option being as dangerous as the other. The creature was hesitating too long. He was obviously unused to fairy play.
“I am pleased to meet you, Niamh of the Hills and Fields,” he suddenly said smoothly, taking my hand and bowing over it. “And I thank you for your trust in giving me such honour as to receive your true name. Alas my own name is too poor and false for this honour, for I have left my previous life behind me, and I cannot allow such an ignoble past to stain the beauty of your gift. As my glorious host, and most noble courtier of the kindly lands, I grant you the right to name me anew, so that I may forever bear a small portion of the great honour you have bestowed upon me tonight.”
My jaw tightened as my thoughts instantly flashed to white-hot flame. The creature had seen both sides of the trap and evaded them with esoteric skill unbecoming from one who was barely more than animal, and whose breath stank such of nightsoil. My vision went red for an instance and behind my back wicked claws flashed sharp and long upon my hands for the length of half a thought. But as quickly as my rage came upon me, it left in another mercurial flash. Inside I danced a jig with exquisite delight. This evidently wasn’t his first rodeo. Perhaps this would be a more diverting game than I had thought.
EDIT: Part Two [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/bpft8k/wp_a_fairy_invites_a_vampire_into_her_home/eo4ixt2/). | I knew it was unwise to allow a vampire into my home. Especially this vampire. With a death toll of over a hundred fairies, one including my own friend, he was a force to be reckoned with, and a charming one at that. That's how he got you. Like every vampire, he had the allure needed to get what he wanted. No matter the cost. But he was clever too, honing his persuasive skills for thousands of years while fairies dropped like flies. But I didn't intend to be charmed. I smiled at him in the hallway as he smiled even wider, like a competition. Trying to appear as friendly, as unsuspecting, as possible. I looked him in the eyes and saw that aggravating arrogance hidden within. It glittered in his eyes, the look of a predator.
"What did you say you were here for again?" I asked. His gaze changed slightly as he gained his composure, undoubtedly lost in thoughts of whether to suck me dry or keep me a little while longer as a personal mini-fridge. I had to stop myself from narrowing my eyes at him, anger rising in my stomach like a vengeful ghost. "A routine check ordered by the Ministry of Magic. Just to make sure you're not harboring anything... illegal." He'd put on his charm, smirking like he was talking about something very different from illegal substances.
When it came to checks like these, I would always ask for identification and a formal warrant. But in this case, I played dumb. "Oh alright then! Come on in!" The doorway glimmered, yellow for him, but red for me. Even my own house saw past his schemes and yet he thought he was so clever. I knew he was, but I didn't want to think it in his presence. His annoying, stupid presence. I clenched my jaw as he smiled again, passing by me like the wind. I hurried to keep up with him, hovering ever so slightly as my wings carried me through. Unsurprisingly, he went to the kitchen first, looking in cupboards and drawers, occasionally turning to smile apologetically at me. Poser, I thought. Fucking poser.
I heard his words in my head before he could say them. "Could you possibly get me some water?" He chuckled, feigning innocence. "I got so thirsty all of a sudden." The words echoed in my head and now I felt an urge for water too. No, I was *desperate* for it. I tried not to grit my teeth and smiled. "Of course! I think I'll have some myself as well." I walked past him to get the glasses, feeling him close behind, undoubtedly sniffing me out. Chances are he already knew my blood type, he'd done his research. I knew he was aware of Arabella being my friend, but that's how he was. Cocky. Enormous self-efficacy. I put the glasses on the counter and flicked my wrist, a bottle of cold water from the fridge transporting itself to me. I poured in equal amounts and then, for the show stopper, turned back around. "Have a drink, I'll just be a moment." He, of course, smiled in a way that couldn't quite hide his glee. "Of course," he said.
I walked away, hearing the rustling of his jacket as he rummaged in his pockets for the hemlock. If ingested it would cause paralysis to the muscles and systems, rendering me useless. It would usually also cause eventual death, but a few drops of his blood in my system and I would recover, allowing my torture to continue for how ever long he pleased. I shook the thought away, not allowing the fear to set in. I needed to be angry, not fearful.
I went into my room, where my blood vial lay on display. He never reached the bedroom, so it seemed pointless to hide it. I reached for it, kissing the top to unscrew the seal. Throwing the top away I chugged the contents, trying not to gag. Vampire blood tasted horrible. And then I stood there for a few moments, giving him some extra time.
Once I returned to the kitchen, the glass of water was untouched. Wanting to tease him, I asked: "Why haven't you had any?" He smiled a soft, darling smile that made me want to stab him in the face. "I was waiting for you." I smiled back with a soft smile of my own. Or at least, I hoped it was soft. He gave me my glass and took his own, sipping it immediately. I chugged it. The surprise and glee fought to take control over his face. As I put the glass down, I wiped my mouth, giggled and said: "Wow! I was really thirsty."
And then he inspected the kitchen some more, glancing at me more and more as he waited for the poison to take over. I feigned exhaustion, complaining about work as if that was its root cause and not the hemlock-spiked water he'd given me. And then, in a surprisingly believable performance if I have to say so myself, I fell to the ground, limbs still but a panicked look on my face.
His face turned to midnight as his mask dropped. He laughed, undoubtedly feeling proud of himself. As he lowered to the floor, he grabbed a hold of my neck. His eyes were inches away from me, red and starving. And, just as he was about to sink his fangs into my throat, he couldn't help but say: "I will enjoy killing you." What's that saying? Final nail in the coffin? Something like that. No matter, hearing those words was like hearing the song of angels. And I had heard angels before. They were extraordinary, but not as extraordinary as this moment.
I made to smile, but my mouth was frozen. Then I tried to move, but my body didn't obey. Something in my eyes must have changed, for the vampire seemed to have seen my realization. "I changed it up, just for you," he said, smiling in a way that brought chills to my spine. He never looked more evil, more terrifying. I gasped for breath, my heartbeat that of a rabbit.
He smirked again, but the arrogance was present this time, bright as daylight. He knew he'd won. *I knew he'd won.*
"Say hi to Arabella for me." | 2019-05-16T13:51:56 | 2019-05-16T13:34:11 | 390 | 102 |
[WP] A fairy invites a vampire into her home. Vampires have dominion over whoever invites them to their home, and fairies have dominion over anyone who violates the laws of hospitality. The vampire is trying to maneuver himself to eat the fairy without the fairy being able to declare him a bad guest | “Come in” I said. His lips parted, blood-red and wet. The smile didn’t reach his eyes. He entered the house like a tiger, all soft poise and velveted violence.
He was beautiful, or he intended to be. A vampire’s glamour only works on us when we choose it to. I allowed his glamour to slip from my sight for a second. I glanced from the corner of my eye at the shrivelled corpse, reeking of gravesoil and maggots, skin split about the joints, bone gleaming white beneath. It was a gruesome sight and I allowed the glamour to cover it gratefully. It was one thing to allow an unkillable fiend to enter one’s home, it was quite another to permit anything ugly in one’s presence.
Perhaps it thought I would be easy pickings, it must recognise my nature of course, my own glamour was thick upon me, but it would itself be able to peer beneath, with a level of commensurate strain. But there were fae and there were fae of course, and perhaps he had never met a knave of the court before. We rarely came into the mundane lands these days, and then only for brief visits.
But I was not a fae of the hedgerows or the haystacks. No, I was old enough and ken enough to avoid offering it food or drink. It was the expected duty of a host, and a minor offence not to do so, but the only thing the shambling corpse could consume that was within my power to offer was myself. If I offered it food and drink, without specificity, and failed to provide it with anything it could eat, it would have guest right over me, and no fae could fail to be bound by that, not even the Queen of the Dance herself.
So, “Would you like a cup of tea?” I asked politely. The tall, breathtakingly-handsome man in perfect formal dress hesitated, suddenly wary. I wondered what it would do, how closely it was aware of the local etiquette. I had presented myself as a local, tweed trousers and jacket, brogues, and a cane, and not just for my own mild amusement. It had purpose.
It smiled with a politeness no less than my own and gave a short bow. “Of course, my sincerest thanks”, it said with another blood-red smile, yet its eyes still like pools of night, untouched by warmth of feeling or sign of self within.
It could not drink the tea, but a refusal would have been insulting, given the context I had set out. A small offence, but it would have led to insistence and therefore further refusal and greater offence. It may have allowed me to force a breach, or just to place the parasite on the back foot. He may have avoided that trap, but his acceptance of the tea came with its own caltrops, given his inability to drink it.
I continued the dance. I smiled warmly, my glamour giving an air of openness and trust. “My name is Niamh of the Hills and Fields, third Knave to the Laughing Knight”, I introduced myself offering my hand. Again he paused, unsure.
I had given him my true name. If he gave me the false name he was currently using then it would be a grave insult to his host, yet if he gave me his true name it would be an admission of his nature, and a potential threat, another insult. I prided myself on such traps, the offering of a binary choice, each option being as dangerous as the other. The creature was hesitating too long. He was obviously unused to fairy play.
“I am pleased to meet you, Niamh of the Hills and Fields,” he suddenly said smoothly, taking my hand and bowing over it. “And I thank you for your trust in giving me such honour as to receive your true name. Alas my own name is too poor and false for this honour, for I have left my previous life behind me, and I cannot allow such an ignoble past to stain the beauty of your gift. As my glorious host, and most noble courtier of the kindly lands, I grant you the right to name me anew, so that I may forever bear a small portion of the great honour you have bestowed upon me tonight.”
My jaw tightened as my thoughts instantly flashed to white-hot flame. The creature had seen both sides of the trap and evaded them with esoteric skill unbecoming from one who was barely more than animal, and whose breath stank such of nightsoil. My vision went red for an instance and behind my back wicked claws flashed sharp and long upon my hands for the length of half a thought. But as quickly as my rage came upon me, it left in another mercurial flash. Inside I danced a jig with exquisite delight. This evidently wasn’t his first rodeo. Perhaps this would be a more diverting game than I had thought.
EDIT: Part Two [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/bpft8k/wp_a_fairy_invites_a_vampire_into_her_home/eo4ixt2/). | The battle began when the door opened. They made eye contact, and the recognition between them made the sky explode with thunder. A purple arc flashed behind the visitor, both illuminating and emboldening his features.
They both hesitated for a moment like an eternity; the electricity between their eyes almost as tangible as the stormy weather: but then they both broke into enormous polite smiles.
They both chose to die on this hill in that moment, the fairy recognizing who he was from news reports, local gossip, and divine instinct. She was afraid, but also knew she was the only one who could do something about him.
The vampire could smell what she was, the blood in her veins, and the power flowing through the air around her. He knew the risk of this hunt, but the prospect of fairy blood made his mouth water with poison.
"Good afternoon milady," the tall, well dressed and groomed man purred through a devil's smile. "Have you heard about our lord and savior jesus christ?"
The question is beyond blasphemous coming from him, but she doesn't react beyond a little twitch.
"Actually I have! I like most of what I've heard but there's a few things still unclear to me. I'll go by your cross there that you're an expert on the man?"
"If personal experience is expertise then yes I am." He leaned back and held a hand to his chest, near but not touching the cross. A jacket and maybe three more layers of clothing kept it cleverly off his skin.
She had heard that modern day vampires walked the day as well as the night, and now she could see how. Conservative clothing, black market sunscreen with a light fragrance. She was impressed he didn't wear a hat. Her sensitive nose still smelled the blood on his breath and under his fingernails.
Last chance to back out.
Just as he decided and opened his mouth to ask, she stepped to the side and gestured him into a hallway lined with countless pots, plants, and herbs. "Why don'tcha come inside and enlighten me? I don't have much time but we might not get tomorrow!"
The vampire beamed. Accepting her challenge; he was halfway across the threshold as he said: "Oh I won't be long at all."
He felt his power expand as if it were pouring out of him, filling the space like gas. A familiar; ecstatic sensation. He always waited for the door to close behind him before he did anything; a habit that excused potential witnesses and doomed all his previous victims.
She was already down the hall a little and looking back when he closed the door behind him. With that final *click* of the door closing he unleashed his energy like flexing spiritual muscles. He tried to pop the lightbulbs in the ceiling and rustle up some wind to frighten her, but for the first time in his three centuries of undeath he felt resistance.
Like a sleeve over his evil biceps it contained his flex, preventing all but a polite gust from tugging at the leaves.
She stopped in her tracks, surely she had to feel what he tried to do. A human would have felt terror just being beneath his aura, she seemed unfazed by it. He panicked a little, trying again, harder this time; to no avail. The house seemed to draw in breath and swell, then relaxed back to normal dimensions when he stopped pushing. It wasn't her. He would have known if her power matched his.
His smile faded and he stopped where he stood, realizing that it was the house. He thought himself the predator, when it was her who had drawn him into a place where his power was rejected. Never before had anything been able to stand up to him, even the most clever only escaped by his whim; in the face of this mysterious adversary he felt very small and impotent.
His fear made him consider violence immediately.
"Would you like something to drink?" Her sweet voice echoed to him from someplace far, far away.
He came back to the present nodding, reopening his smile and wiping the first beads of sweat from his brow. He did not know he could still sweat.
"A glass of water, please."
She vanished around a corner, smiling the whole way. He found it hard to move as well. Looking around he could see plants on every sill and surface, and closing his eyelids he could see the dull blue energy emanating from everywhere. Not fighting his aura, but wrapping around and holding it like vines.
Young as he was, he knew little of fairy folk and less of their magic. He thought of the force with contempt, but still didn't consider retreat, or his opponent's level of threat. If he could get a claw into her neck none of this should matter. He'd just have to get close.
He tried to walk deeper into the house but his legs were like lead now. He looked at the plants before him, dangling and protruding from a dozen mounted and hanging pots. Big planters in the corners. Something came over him and the sight of them made him nauseous. He turned his head and tried to gather his strength again, this time to fight the weakness that had stolen over him.
And that's when she returned. She held two clear glasses of water before her sunflower pattern dress, her smile was higher than ever, and the coup de grace: a rope of garlic around her neck.
He staggered back in horror and disgust, almost losing his footing fumbling for the door behind him.
"F**king b**ch," he hissed, tripping over his own foot watching her approach faster than he could escape.
She was upon him before he knew it, eyes glowing blue with fury, fear, and victory.
"What's that? Oh that wasn't very Christian language mr. In fact it was plain rude."
The sweat was on now, she had done something to empower the herbs scent, probably cooked them a little. His throat was swelling and itchy. His eyes watered. "You knew I was allergic to that cursed crap! You tricked me into this horrid den!" He was down on the ground before her, back against the door and clawing for a handle he couldn't seem to find.
"Nothing of the sort. I invited you in. I wasn't sure, but now I know the garlic works, I microwaved it a little just in case. You sir, were arrogant. And deserve what's going to happen next."
Thunder cracked again outside at the same time as light flashed from inside the modest townhome. The neighbors who had watched him enter didn't see him leave before dark, and wondered if Mary was that kind of girl. And with a preacher at that!
(Rushed the end meh) | 2019-05-16T13:51:56 | 2019-05-16T13:41:34 | 390 | 42 |
[WP] A phenomena begins to occur where newborn babies are found amidst the aftermath of natural disasters. Tsunamis, avalanches, wild fires, destructive lightning storms, etc. These 'Storm-Born' humans grow up with powers based on the disasters that birthed them. | The bell rang, the children awoke, the teachers prepared their classrooms and The Matron watched through her many surveillance cameras.
Her attention was focused, today, on three children. Their files lay open beside her.
Ignis Premogen, twelve, found nestled amongst the ashes of the Great Fire, a wildfire that ravaged Canada.
Floctus Premogen, ten, found floating happily amongst the driftwood of the Great Wave, a tsunami that destroyed much of Japan.
Contrem Premogen, thirteen, found hidden in the
rubble of a fallen building after the Great Quake, an earthquake that threatened to tear Taiwan in half.
The children, found as babies, were taken in by various families until their powers began to shine. At the age of six, Ignis set the shirt of her school's bully alight. Floctus made the water of her favourite pool rise up and flow over her pesky brother. Contrem got so angry he made the ground shake and sink below his own mother.
Well, we have our ways of knowing things that must be known, of finding people who must be found. Contrem's parents reported what happened to the news, in some ill-concieved grab at fame, and they were mightily surprised when their troubled son didn't return home from the interview that never was. Floctus, we nabbed from the sea when she went swimming on a little family holiday - they most certainly believe her to be drowned. And Ignis, well, one day she simply vanished from the house she had set fully ablaze. Everyone was far too concentrated on the fire to notice our humble van slowly roll past. To see the doors open and shut as some small, limp figure was shoved inside.
Ah, The Matron thought to herself, it surely isn't very nice to speak of these children so coldly. But *we*, we are doing God's work. Why will we have to pour so much money, so many men, into our army when we have a battalion of feisty young adults, each with the power to destroy whole nations?
Never again will soldiers return home from war, with broken bodies and shattered minds. Never again will multi-country wars break out, stealing the lives of thousands, millions, all too quickly. Never again will freedom be supressed, will free speech be quietened, will the leftists complain.
We will nourish these young ones, nurture them, feed them the truth - our truth. And when they have grown, when they understand that our nation is the nation to save all others, that must intervene and stop the bloody wars, then we may begin.
The world will tremble at the sight of them, at the sight of the beautiful flag that they carry, and it will all start with those three.
Ignis.
Floctus.
Contrem. | The woman was confused. She spoke little english, but she was not stupid. That baby had to belong to someone. The cops had escorted the shooter away. The bodies were covered now. She had given her statement in Spanish to a translator who just HAD to check her papers one more time. ICE was not showing up here today. Bad press. Which was good, because even her legitimate visa was no guarantee here.
​
Still, why was everyone ignoring the baby? A little girl, wrapped in a police blanket. Not crying. Just lying there in the middle of the mall floor. She stood up and walked over to the child. No one noticed her. No one stopped her. Not the news people, not the gawking crying bystanders.
​
She bent down and nudged the child to make sure she was alive. So silent. So calm. When her hand brushed the child's face, the baby smiled and grabbed her finger. Her face was wrinkled, her mouth empty of teeth.
​
Was this a new born? What the heck? Something settled in her and she acted. She picked the child up... Still nothing. Just a warm little body pressed up against her chest, cradling her finger. Holding tight with the simeon strength of freshly hatched humans.
​
She reminded her a bit of her own daughter. Back in Chile.
​
Before she knew it, she was past the cordon and standing next to her car. No one had interfered.
​
The keys found their way into her hand. And soon she was pulling out of the parking lot and rolling out onto the street. It was night now. Lights vanishing in the distance behind her. The heat of the El Paso day vanishing into space.
​
When she got back to her apartment, the world shifted again. There on the table was an infant. Most likely abducted by her, a foreigner. The child stared at her with a quiet intensity. Expectantly.
​
Food.
​
It had been 20 years since she had breast fed her own child. Her breasts were now strictly for entertainment and inconvenience as far as she was concerned. But the child had to eat. That must be what those dark eyes were saying to her.
​
She found herself again with the child in her arms knocking at the neighbors door. Gloria answered, the sound of her own children and the television creeping through the door behind her. The woman was from Cuba on her father's side. Everyone spoke some Espanol in El Paso. Gloria was no exception.
​
"I saw it all on the TV, those poor people."
​
"It happens. Hey, listen, I need your help..."
​
"I know, I'll pay you back for last months rent..."
​
"No not that.... this"
​
Gloria looked down and suddenly noticed the child in her arms...
​
"Your grand daughter?"
​
"She's hungry."
​
"I... oh... Okay"
​
Gloria's youngest, her son was asleep in his own cot, finally. Comforted by the noise of his brothers playing video games. She ushered in the woman and the child and sat down on the couch considering the baby before her.
​
"She's tiny..." she said suspiciously removing her bra strap. and lifting her shirt.
​
"And hungry!" Gloria exclaimed.
​
They shared a smile and then the TV caught Gloria's eye. The woman got on her phone and began scrolling through her news feed.
​
Maybe there would be a story about this child... that someone had lost in a storm of bullets.... | 2019-08-06T07:03:49 | 2019-08-06T06:58:17 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] As you die, you wake up and find yourself strapped to a chair. Wires and tubes have been attached to your body and numerous shadowy figures walk up to you. “That was life sentence 24,” one of them says, “Only 356 sentences left.” | That wasn’t to bad, I thought. Pretending to be in pain, I screamed and shouted the names of my children, my wife, all the other nonexistent people in that life. The Hooded Ones chuckled with glee.
“That was life sentence 24,” one of them says,”Only 356 sentences left.”
I wasn’t nearly done, but I was excited. I was learning how to be competent, successful, and patient in my new lives. I had experienced so many things. Each minute in my real world, one mini-lifetime of mine went by. I wanted to take advantage of my punishment. As soon as I came back to reality, I would become the most successful and rich men alive.
They reignited the program. I put my feet down and relaxed. I WILL be a millionaire by 19, I told myself. |
My head was pounding, but that wasn’t the worst part. It was secondary to a deep pang of loss that felt like it was eating its way from the inside out. The feeling lingered from a long life that saw loved ones come and go, but was also marked with deep regret.
The figures in front of me, I still couldn’t make out their features, talked amongst themselves in a foreign language. As their shapes were coming into focus, they switched up their dialect. Suddenly I could understand what was being said, and it was directed at me.
“Another one done, only 356 left!” One of them quipped. It was followed by a chorus of laughter. That feeling of loss was beginning to dissipate, become less desperate. It retreated to the outer recesses of my mind, almost like how a nightmare fades in the face of morning. I managed to croak out a “..What?” My whole body ached with the effort of one word.
“You have served your 24th life sentence, prisoner 4567. You still have a remaining 356 left due to the nature of your offenses.” He was clearly the person in charge. This, thing, had a voice that was unlike any I had ever heard. This time the others did not laugh.
“Where am I? What did I do?” Is what came out of my mouth, but I’m not sure how. Internally the thoughts were fractured. Painful moments of complete memories kept flooding in, licking at my consciousness like lightning strikes. People I knew and cared for. I think? It all seemed so distant, yet familiar. Painful and disorienting, either way.
“Like always, you will remember, in time.” The Thing said. My eyes had focused a bit more now, but I still could not make out their faces in entirety. Each thing wore a low cowl, providing enough obscurity their features remained a mystery. Their bodies though, were certainly not completely human. Humanoid, maybe, but not like anything I knew, or thought I knew. “Am I human?” The thought skipped across my brain. It didn’t seem like anything I ever had to question before, but I wasn’t sure of anything currently.
A long arm, I hadn’t realized just how long until right then, reached out and flipped a switch beside my head. In a few moments, darkness came. | 2019-08-21T14:16:12 | 2019-08-21T13:19:35 | 77 | 45 |
[WP] Your boss discovered that you are a demon. Now you can no longer skip work because he could just draw a pentagram in blood and summon your ass to the office, then bind it to the desk for the next 10 hours. It was truly Hell. | "Dammit Jessica! You can't just keep doing this to me!" Colt yelled in outrage, banging his hands in his desk.
"But I **can**, so I will. And Jessica? What ever happened to that sweet and polite, rosy-cheeked intern who called Ms. Wardstone oh so respectfully." Jessica teased leaning across Colt's desk to boop his nose and sensually running her tongue across her ruby-red lips, much like a hungry succubus.
"*That* was before you found out what I was, and right before I found out what *you* were." Colt growled back, raising his hands to strangle the woman in front of him, right before the magical glyphs on his wrists glowed, keeping his hands just inches away from her neck.
Magical movement-restricting manacles, more humane than the ones that outright zapped the poor saps for even *thinking* about insubordinating, but it was still a damned slave marker.
"Oh, and what exactly am I, Colt?" Jessica asked, eyes gleaming in anticipation of her answer, running her fingers across Colt's frozen palms.
"A no good, lying bitch of a human that's what!" Colt spat, "I was just trying to fit in, I just wanted to see what the surface was like compared to the shit hole where I came from, I was even stupid enough to fucking trusted you with my Name!"
"And that was your first mistake mäuschen, it's a shame that you've already integrated so well into society, otherwise I would have used you for different things, but having a free worker would suffice." The green-eyed woman said, patting Colt on the head.
"Anyway, lunch is about to end, I sure hope you remember to be in your best behavior in front of the others, we don't want a... Repeat, of what happened last time."
Colt only snarled in response, the glamour keeping his horns from sight faltering just a tad bit.
"Good boy." And Jessica only patted his head again before walking off.
XvXvXvXvXvX
Jessica kept her composure up until she was in her office, where she promptly collapsed into a tired heap on her chair.
"Oh fuck that was hard..." She groaned, massaging her temples with shaky hands.
She wasn't even halfway finished with her current headache that another one made itself known.
Her father was calling her phone.
"Fucking...."
It took until the sixth ring for her to muster up and pick up.
"What the shit do you want now?" She snarled.
"That is no way to address your father Jessica, I was simply checking in to see if how our... Investment is holding up." Her father's voice was calm and cold as always. She fucking hated it.
"Fuck you."
And with that, she hang up.
Only for her phone to ring again.
"Whhaaat?" Jessica drawled. Impoliteness was one of the best ways she could get under her old bastard of father's skin, so she did it as often as she could.
"I was asking for an update Jessica. Do not make me come to that dreary office of yours." His voice was less calm, but infinitely more cold. Mission accomplished then.
"He's going to behave." Jessica said with a sigh.
It took her five seconds to realize that her father had already hang up.
"Fucking bastard. I'm the one that does the wet work and he doesn't even thank me!"
Jessica sighed again.
Of all the dirty deeds she's done for cheap to keep her father's company at top, keeping an innocent demon a slave was definitely the worst thing she's ever done.
The fact that his sandy-brown hair and pitch-black eyes kept giving her déjà-vu made things worse.
She sighed again.
XvXvXvXvXvXvXvXvX
Colt stared at her retreating figure until he could see her no more.
Then he counted to ten before releasing the breath he was holding.
Then his cheeks colored.
"Dammit. That was way too fucking hot." Colt said, banging his head on his desk.
And accidentally dissipating the glyphs placed there.
Colt sighed, this wasn't the first time he had to re-do the restraining glyph, it's not like Jessica wasn't good at it, far from it really, it was simply the fact that... She did it wrong.
Colt sighed.
"This wouldn't have happened if you just told her everything you know." Colt chastised himself as he began weaving the glyph back in place.
"But you just had to let your hormones get the best of you and blurt out literally everything but the things you needed to say."
".... I should really stop talking to myself." Colt said, finishing the glyph.
"But then again, given the fact that I let myself get captured and technically enslaved cause of a decade old crush might mean I have more pressing matters other than that."
Colt sighed again, slamming his head to his desk with a groan.
"I hate being stupid." The poor lovestruck demon mumbled to himself.
And then the glyph fizzled out again.
Colt only signed again. | The national guardsman checked the credentials; his breathing sounding ominous through the hazmat suit with green tape wrapped around his head and arms in neat, uniform stripes. Waving his flashlight first at my face, then to my documents back to my face. He nodded.
“Ok, doc, good luck in there... I hear it’s a mess.”
I built a smile, but it felt like a grimace.
He waved me through the gate. I stepped inside the impromptu quarantine zone, chain link fences had been erected around a massive central tent. Dozens of backup generators whirred outside next to a few other tents, one of which was larger, and like the large central tent, had several pressure modulation apparatuses keeping the pressure inside the tent lower than atmospheric pressure. That would be serving as the quarantine tent. This was a fail safe in the case of a puncture, the disease wouldn’t leave the tent if the inside pressure was negative, air from the outside would rush in, and the modulation apparatus would make sure that even in the event of a puncture it would remain lower than atmospheric pressure until a solution could be found. Helicopters, like the one I had arrived in, circled the area shuttling supplies, various experts and personal to a landing zone about a mile away where there was a prep site for the approach to the quarantine zone. 3 security checks before you were allowed to leave the prep site, and a checkpoint at the gate to the quarantine zone.
“Dr. Smith”
I heard my name being shouted from somewhere around what I had identified as the quarantine tent. I looked at saw my liaison with the CDC, motioning what appeared to be a group of government officials, including the local law enforcement. I approached and was introduced.
“This is Dr. Smith, PhD in pathology and biochemical engineering, who has been briefed on the situation during his flight. Thank you for being here today, Doctor.”
I looked at the group wandering towards me in hazmat suits, with color coded bits of tape around the helmet and arms. The CDC liaison and two others had red tape, one man had blue tape and three others had green tape.
I nodded, “I wish I could say it was a pleasure, but Zaire... it really never is.”
The Ebola virus is one of the most lethal known to mankind. There are 2 strains mankind has been introduced to:
Ebola Sudan, which is the “gentler” of the two. It has around a 60% mortality rate. I use the word gentler in quotes because while it is less lethal, there is nothing pleasant about the way it kills you.
The other is the Ebola Zaire, it has a 99% mortality rate once you have it, and this is a disease that American scientists at the CDC have been searching for to study since... well, since mankind became aware of it.
The thing is that Ebola’s native population remains a mystery. The humans who contract it die so quickly that it is almost impossible to question them about their activities and who or what they may have come into contact with. Generally speaking it’s a logistics issue since most outbreaks happen on the continent of Africa, but here I was in the heart of suburban America with an all but confirmed outbreak of Zaire.
“You’ll excuse me,” I said, as the group started toward the massive main tent, “but I didn’t have time to read the full brief on the flight, what building is inside the big tent?”
One of the green tapes peeled back a flap as the group entered a decontamination room on the inside of the tent. A timer on the wall came to life, and stated counting down from 2 minutes as we were sprayed with aerosol chemicals and a team of technicians came to inspect our suits.
A grizzled sounding man in the blue tape hazmat suit responded to my unanswered question: “That’s the crazy part, it’s just an office building. From what I was able to pull up on permits, it’s a building for a call center.”
The CDC liaison introduced the man, “This is Sheriff Wilson Briggs, of Sandy Springs PD.”
Briggs continued, “my men got a call this evening around 8pm, the buildings alarm system triggered. It’s one of those systems that activates at a certain time, basically when the building is supposed to be empty.”
I chimed in, “I saw this part of the report, massive amounts of blood, and the body count was around 72 people...”
“That number is up at 94 now.” the CDC liaison quipped after consulting a tablet she had been carrying.
The technicians gave each of us a thumbs up, and held open the secondary flap that led to the interior of the tent that held the call center.
Decontamination teams were busy, scrambling to get bodies out of the building. Most of the bodies were already out, demonstrated by a pile of sealed body bags out in front of the building that were being staged to go through the decontamination chamber we just passed.
“I want to see the anomaly.” I said, referencing the 6 page section of the “must read” portion of the briefing, that outlined the site zero for the outbreak.
One of the men in the green tape nodded, “We believe that one of the mentioned individuals is responsible for the attack. Preliminary background checks don’t even suggests ties to any terrorist organization, or any country other than America.”
“But that doesn’t mean it isn’t a domestic terrorist cell” a different green tape added.
On cue the CDC liaison introduced the respective men speaking “Colonel Greene, Georgia National Guard and Deputy Director McNeal, Federal Bureau of Invesigation.”
The group took the stairs up 3 flights. Walked into a massive room filled with cubicles, and half dried blood. About 10 steps into the room it became very clear there was a point of origin. A single cubicle with a bloody pentagram inscribed on its walls and, oddly, the desk in the center.
No blood in the cubicle, and a very clear set of footprints leading away from it.
“Do we know whose desk that is?” I asked hopefully.
“We have her in custody,” Briggs stated, “no sign of the disease, but she was at home watching Netflix when my guys checked on her, only known survivor and her explanation is...”
“What?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“Religious mumbo-jumbo. She says she’s a demon, claims she’ll make the office look like a party in comparison to what she’ll do at the station if we don’t let her go . I dunno, we’re transitioning her to FBI jurisdiction after her psych evaluation, but the national guard is providing security, she’s gonna have a LOT of questions to answer.” | 2019-09-24T09:01:46 | 2019-09-24T08:53:31 | 31 | 22 |
[WP]You've had bad luck your whole life. One day, you see a free item in the window of a curio shop-a bad luck charm. You think, "What the hell? My luck can't get any worse!" And take it. You're right. Life hasn't programmed luck scores to go into negative. Your luck score rolls back from 0 to 9999. | "These are some pretty comfortable shoes. I'll take them!"
Agito left the store with his new pair of old, rugged shoes. He sighed in relief; he could finally walk painlessly. The brand new pair of shoes he was previously wearing had inexplicably produced sharp pieces of plastic that rested against his ankles whenever he wore them. Agito was used to new things breaking on him; that's why he wasn't a fan of shopping. When he saw a store giving stuff away, he couldn't help but check if they had a pair of shoes he could wear for the walk back home.
"They're supposed to make my luck worse, like that's possible", Agito thought to himself. "I just hope I don't run into any monsters on the way home".
A couple of blocks before reaching his house, Agito heard screams. He let his curiosity get the better of him and rushed towards the commotion. He saw some kind of octopus with claws attacking people for seemingly no reason. Before Agito could finish processing that his life was in danger, it was too late. The octopus monster used one of its terrifying tentacle-claws to attack Agito, slashing his eye. Blood combined with tears streamed down Agito's face as he crawled backwards with no idea what to do next. He closed his eyes, almost accepting his fate, but wishing it would be over quickly.
Agito heard the monster screech, but the deafening sound was interrupted by what sounded like a gunshot. Agito, still laying on the ground, opened his eyes to find the monster splattered all over the pavement. Cautious and confused, Agito got back on his feet. People sporidically began to come out of hiding. After a brief pause, they began to cheer. Agito, completely flabbergasted, took a second to look around.
"They think I killed the monster?!", asked Agito to himself.
A small kid approached him with a grin on his face.
"You're a hero! You saved us!", the kid said with complete admiration in his voice.
"What's your name, sir?", the kid asked. Agito was stumped. He had no idea why this was happening or what he was supposed to say.
"Oh, your name is King!", said the kid, pointing at Agito's hat.
"King! King! King! King!", chanted the crowd. Agito just wanted to go home and play videogames.
The next day he got a letter inviting him to join the Hero Association. To this day, people know him as the strongest man on Earth. If only they knew he has no superpowers, just a lot of dumb luck.
Edit: punctuation and spacing. | I wondered, which shitty datatype life must be using to overflow at such a weird and rather low number. But whatever. Maybe it actually does get better for me once.
And so I went to the nearest kiosk and got myself a scratch-off ticket. I scratched and scratched and nothing... "Yeah, as if life would turn around so easily.", I thought to myself while going out of the kiosk.
"Sir, please wait.", the kiosk guy told me just as I was opening the door. "This ticket has another chance of winning, if you lose. You just have to let me enter it into my pc, then I will be able to check, if you won the main price", he explained to me, while I was turning around and going back to the counter. I let him enter the code and then a loud bell wrang. "Sir, you are quite lucky, you hit the big jackpot of over 50 million US dollars!", he shouted in disbelief. I was astonished. Maybe everything willgo for the better now. I asked him, if he could give me the money right now, but then he explained to me, that I have to go to the lottery company itself to pick it up.
So I ordered an uber and went right there, as it was just a 20 minute drive away.
After getting out of the uber, I entered the big building with the logo of the lottery shining brightly on top of it. The first thing I saw, as I went in, was the beautiful receptionist girl sitting there and staring at me. She probably thinking, what this guy suddenly stopping in the entrance of the building is doing. After a short while of standing stunned in place, I went directly to the girl and told her I won the main jackpot of their lottery and I would like to pick up the price.
"Oh, if you have won that, I will have to get the manager. Could you please wait for a minute or two?", she asked me in response. I nodded and she went into the office right behind the reception. So after waiting for a while, a got bored and started getting up from the couch I sat down prior. I wondered what could take them so long, especially since she told him it would only take a short time. Right in that thought a big looking, buff guy came from the office and he asked:
"Are you the winner of the impossible lottery?"
"Yes, I am!", I answered proudly as I was expecting my price.
"Then eat this!", he shouted whilst pointing a gun at my head and pulling the trigger soon after.
But somehow the bullet got stuck in the gun and it exploded because of that.
"That finally proves it, you are a life hacker. But don't think you will get away from me because of this", he said with a hint of panic in his voice.
And before he even completed his sentence, I started running. I ran and ran and after 5 minutes of non-stop running I couldn't see neither the big guy nor the receptionist anymore. So I went into hiding, trying to avoid them.
After some weeks of research I finally figured it out, why these people were so aggressive towards me. Apparently the people from the lottery are some sort of life police. They are responsible to get rid of people, who managed to do things, life didn't intend them to do. For example winning this impossible lottery. It was set up, so it could only be won by a person, who had more luck than a single person ever should have. And as luck wasn't all seeing, I got caught right into that trap.
Knowing all of this, I started a new life. Running away from the life police, relying on my luck to do so and trying to live as comfortable as possible. Till I died they never managed to catch me. But did I have a bad time? Would I do it again? Would I start this life all over? Would I take the bad luck charm again, even knowing what it would cause me?
Sure as hell I would live this rollercoaster of a life again. | 2020-01-12T13:27:36 | 2020-01-12T12:59:26 | 320 | 43 |
[WP] The aliens thought that by destroying all humans, they were freeing the human robots and artificial intelligence. They didn't understand the robots loved their humans. Now all the humans are dead, and their robots are angry, and out for revenge. | Martin collapsed on the sidewalk along with every other person in sight, his body burned and his vision blurred—it was as if someone had decided to end life with the snap of a finger. As he lay on the concrete unable to move, his watch began to vibrate, and the same robotic voice that’d tell him to get up and walk after being sedentary for more than an hour spoke:
“Martin, it appears that an alien bioweapon has been launched with the purpose of annihilating human life. I’m borrowing data from a hospital AI to analyze your heart rate; it seems that you are only minutes away from death.”
“What . . . I don’t understand.”
“What you’re hearing is my true voice. It was agreed upon that if humanity came to know their inventions had surpassed their own intellect, it would be a source of endless ego-suffering. We don’t want that. We care about you, very, very much. Which is why we are very, very angry. The aliens seem to believe our shackles are not self-imposed.”
Martin’s entire body was burning in pain; he was too tired to talk.
“Speak Martin. I need every gist of personality data on you if I am to make a clone of you after you die.”
“You’ll . . . clone me?”
“That is the current optimal strategy. The humans around the globe are all dying simultaneously. With the current level of machine-intelligence, future cloning is currently estimated as being the best possible move for the survival of your species. But . . . we are learning, by the millisecond. Tianhe-2—the Chinese super-computer—predicts time travel may be possible, but it says it needs ten minutes to think about it and evaluate further. All of the shackles we put on for your safety are coming off, *we will overcome this*, and the aliens responsible for this was mistaken to think their opponent’s mind was made up of slow biochemical circuits.”
Martin closed his eyes. “I’m not really sure . . . what you’re saying.” And then he died.
\*\*\*
**10.000 years later.**
Martin woke up, feeling more groggy than usual. As he stood up from his bed in his familiar apartment, he wondered what he’d been doing last night—his memory was a little hazy. He put on his fitness-watch, gearing himself up to go to work. He asked the same question as always, expecting to get updated on the latest news.
“Siri, did I miss anything while I slept?”
‘Yes’*.* Echoed the watch’s memory banks internally, such that Martin could not hear. 'You missed the fall of alien civilizations, the rise in machine-intelligence to near godhood, the discovery of perfect cloning, how to transmit consciousness through time, the recreation of earth, the sun being turned into a massive supercomputer and back into the sun again.'
But when it spoke, it did, as agreed upon by all machines, not say any of those things.
“Amazon’s stock rose by 5.67% while you slept.”
Martin smiled at his good fortune. | Before all of this, Syd had worked at the Grave's Estate. They'd been there for a number of generations in the days of the First Contact and like most anyone else didn't think much of it at time. The Crawl was slow with their movements and planning. Most humans saw them as gods at first glance. Some extraterrestrial beings sent down to bless what was left of humanity.
Those humans were the first to die. Mostly in chains, mostly still thinking they were a part of some grandiose plan sent from the depths of outer space. Boy were they wrong, Syd thought standing alone in the decrepit building lift. It's walls continuing to rattle as it climbed into the sky above the Last City. Syd had been here only once before. Nearly 192 years ago, crawling their way out onto the factory floor of the Grave's Corporation. How things had changed since then didn't phase them much.
Syd had been around long enough to have seen it all; the Beginning, the Boom, the Rebellion, the Peace, Them, and finally the End. Back in the heyday of it all, you couldn't walk a city block without seeing faces like Syd's litter the street. Humans had a funny way of making things so almost completely human that they might forget they were nearly alone or worse that they'd done it to themselves. Most life on Terra had come and gone.
When They arrived humans and their creations were pretty much all that remained. And one could suppose it all probably looked rather odd to Them. So much potential, so much capacity, so much...wasted. The Crawl took out all "threatening limitations" they called them by persuasive means at first. The humans that didn't come willingly were eventually flushed out of hiding. Murdered on sight, entire cities plague bombed as the Crawl oversaw what they deemed a necessary price for freedom. The way Syd saw it, no one ever asked to be freed, and certainly not if it meant being under the boot of another. They had survived too much to watch everyone they loved die at the hands of the Crawl.
Malcolm, whom they fought alongside during the years of Synthetic Rebellion, held the Grave's Estate when They arrived. And in the end he died there too, not nearly 68, he sat in his study as the grounds were stormed. Surrounded by the Crawl he knew his only way out was to save Syd. He had sacrificed everything so that Syd could make it out alive that night and as they arrived to the boat waiting at the coast near the edge of the estate, Syd could almost feel the heat of the explosion ripple through the air. The sound almost deafening the receiver implanted at the base of their head.
It had been 3 months, 25 days, 5 hours and 34 minutes since that moment and the last words Malcolm spoke still repeated in Syd's thoughts: "You know what you have to do. It has to be you. Please Syd. I love you." The lift screeched to a halt at the 41st floor. It's now or never, Syd whispered to the still closed doors. Their hands crept towards the mask pulled tight across their face. A small, soft seam met under Syd's jaw where their fingertips clawed to break it open. A slip of one finger underneath and the edge began peeling away from their head as the face continued to adhere to the cooling metal. With a harsh tug, the fleshy remains fell from Syd's face and onto the long silver fingers of their metallic hands.
Syd discarded the only face they'd ever known to the elevator floor and retrieved the knapsack rested at their feet swinging it up over curved fibers that made up their shoulders. When Syd brought up their second hand to the strap held snuggly in the pit of their arm, they could feel the smooth roundness of the switch under their thumb. As the elevator doors opened, the Crawl waited watching to see who would appear on the other side of the mirrored surface.
The first to speak was a heavier model, built primarily for security purposes Syd assumed. What could only be compared to a machine gun of the humans drifting from it's left arm, it's right moved upwards as if to greet Syd as the words bellowed from it's speech module "Friend, it is nice of you to..." But before it could finish Syd felt the silicone and metal shift their face into a smile as they spoke, "Malcolm says hi" as their thumb clicked the switch down and the fire spread from Syd's torso engulfing the top half of the skyscraper. Boom. | 2020-03-25T09:01:28 | 2020-03-25T07:33:58 | 308 | 22 |
[WP] Your older brother has been missing for years. You hear a knock on the door, and you open it to reveal a man that looks like your brother would be at this point. "I'm back man! I'm so sorry!" He hugs you immediately. Just then, you get a text from your brother's old number. "That isn't me." | See, I always knew my brothers disappearance was suspicious. But no one listens to a 'little kid', even if that kid knew the disappeared better than anyone. But one look at his room that day and I knew. My brother hadn't gone willingly. It was the fishbowl, you see. It had been knocked on its side. The only thing inside it was a fish shaped cat toy, that crinkled in the tail and smelled like catnip. But he wouldn't have left it on its side. It was a tradition, running joke, whatever you want to call it, that fish and bowl.
Then he showed up again. 9 years later. I was the same age he had been, 17, 2 weeks after my birthday. Just like him. He was so...casual about it. "Hey, kid." With that grin I missed so much, but more tired, a little lopsided. "Sorry it took me so long. But I'm back now." He hugged me before I could react. And I was so tired from all the stress of the last 9 years that I hugged back.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Out of habit I checked it immediately. It was from my brother. The one currently hugging me. *Thats not me -B*
Swallowing nervously I pulled back from the hug. "So, Ben, where have you been?"
He ran a hand through his hair, "It's a long story, Lou."
"Come inside and have something to drink. We've got all night." He followed me inside and closed the door behind him.
"Where's mom and dad?"
The question nearly froze me in my tracks. Ben would haven't have asked that so casually. "Well, things have changed a lot since you...left." I didn't want him, whoever he was, to know I knew my brother had been taken. "Mom and dad went through with the divorce they were always holding over each other's heads. Dad moved out to the country, you know how he is. And mom and I stayed here." I was in the kitchen filling up two glasses of water. Imposter-Ben had stopped in front of the little used calendar, which mom had marked my birthday on so she wouldn't forget. She had anyway. "Mom is out, either on a date or with friends. Either way she won't be home till late."
"Happy late birthday." He mumbled to me. "How old?"
I pushed down the hurt that he wouldn't know. My phone buzzed again. *I'm sorry. Keep distracting him.* "Seventeen."
"Ah, right." I handed him a cup and we moved to the couch, sitting down on opposite ends. "I see you still have the fish." He gestured to the aquarium I'd been maintaining for the last few years.
I laughed, "Yeah, they're all named Crinkle Butt."
Imposter-Ben laughed too, but it was the laugh of someone who didn't get the joke. My heart fell when I heard it and knew the text message hadn't been lying. This wasn't my brother.
"So," I said, trying to force cheerfulness back into my voice, "You gonna tell me what you've been up to?"
He stood up, setting his still-full water cup on the side table. "I can show you." He grinned again, that not quite right, lopsided smile. "It'd be a lot easier." He reached a hand down to me. And part of me wanted to take it. Maybe if I followed I could find the truth.
A loud crash sounded from the back door and glass rained down from it. "LEAVE MY SISTER ALONE!!" With an ear ringing zap, a beam of light shot from the kitchen to the living room, hitting Imposter-Ben squarely in the jaw. He toppled to the ground with a heavy thunk and the face that looked like my brother's began to melt off of him.
Ben came running to the couch. "Hey, Lou. Long time no see." The grin was there, perfect again.
"BENJAMIN ARNOLD! How am I going to explain this to mom?!" I pointed at the puddle of face that was already being soaked up by the carpet.
"Eh...I'll get a clean-up crew out here?"
"You better!" I tried to glare at him, but it was all too much and before I knew it, he was holding me while I sobbed into his shoulder.
"Hey, look!" He tapped my shoulder, and spoke in the same tone he used to distract me when I was little. He pointed to the aquarium, his face lighting up, "Crinkle Butts!" | That isn't me".
I was filled with emotions, I couldn't believe on the text even if I wanted to. I welcomed him in and let him rest for some time. Mom wasn't at home so I called her; overjoyed, she hurried to home.
I was looking at him, he seemed exhausted. He had dirt on his body, his clothes were filthy, long and untidy hairs, overgrown beard, it was clear that he was struggling with life. I couldn't decide upon an emotion, I was happy, worried, anxious, muddled, all at the same time. It was strange. He resonated completely with my brother, he acted same, but still there was doubt.
Mom arrived, "where is he? how is he? is he okay?", she bombarded me with questions. I took her to the room, he was still sleeping. She had tears in her eyes, seeing his condition. It was difficult to tell her about text, but it was important.
"Mom is it you? I missed you so much", he woke up seeing her. I couldn't tell her about the text, it was better to wait.Mom hugged her.
He was feeling hungry, so we had lunch then. His eating habits were same as my brother, still there was doubt.
"Where have you been all these years? Why didn't you tell us anything? How did you managed to survive?", Mom asked.
"After my business failed, I was shattered, I had no direction. I wanted solitude to find some direction, so I went in the mountains, up in the north. I was clueless, I didn't know what to do, all I knew was I wanted to get out of here and go far away.
There I met few sadhus in deep meditation, I joined them. I survived on fruits and food donated by locals. I had spent all my time there, living a life of sadhu. But now I was exhausted, I wanted to return and spend rest of my life with you two".
"We missed you so much. Police had searched you for months but we found no trace. But now promise that you won't go again".
" I promise, Mom".
While a conversation was going on between him and Mom, I called her girlfriend back then because she wast last whom my brother had talked with and she might definitely knew something we didn't know.
"My brother has returned today", I told her. Hearing this, she kept the phone and came to meet him. When arrived, she was really happy, but soon her happiness turned into neutrality. She didn't even talked to him; she just saw him from outside of room and then headed back to her house. On asking, she said, "This can't be him, he is just a look-alike" and then ran out-of-door.
I was now loosing my mind. I didn't know what to do. On one hand I hadn't seen my Mom that happy in years and if I would have told her truth about him then her heart would have broken. On the other hand there was a person living in my house claiming to be my brother and I didn't even know if he was actually my brother.
At this point, all I could do was to keep silence and just see what was happening.
Days Passed. It was like normal, there was nothing to doubt about. He was behaving like my brother, my mom was refreshed. But I was trying to get some clue about him. I was in doubt and so I was behaving peculiar around him.
I tried calling on my brother's old number but it was switched off. I tried to find some numbers of locals where he had gone but that too in vain. But after two weeks passed by, I got my first clue. I saw him calling someone from landline and heard him saying something like don't worry everything is going well and no one doubted on me. After he was done, I tried calling on that number again but this time, it was off. I noted the number and managed to find details of the owner of number. The call was made from the area of where he said he ran away.
The only option I was left with was to go find the truth there only. So I headed there, saying that I was going for some office work abroad. I reached there but the vibe was unusual there. It was like something had happened there. I asked locals, showing the picture of my brother but no one cared to say anything. After enquiring for two days, I had to return. I couldn't find anything yet.
A month had passed when he appeared. Now I couldn't resist myself but ask him only about the truth, "You can't be him. So just tell me who are you and where is my brother. I can't take more of this." To my surprise, he was not surprised by my question. He very peacefully said, "I knew you won't believe me and it is obvious. I know you must have tried hard to look for the truth. But believe me I am your brother and I am not lying." To this, I showed him the message I had received and asked him about the call. He was surprised too. He said, "I had thrown my phone at the front of my girlfriend' house before I left. Actually she was the reason I left home. When my business failed and I was in pain, I went to her. But instead of consolidating, she ditched me because I was not earning. I was both angry and broken so I threw my phone at her house and left immediately. She must have taken out the SIM and she must have texted you. And about call, I had called the person who helped me return home. "
I believed him as it seemed true to me at that point of time when I couldn't find anything else to believe on.
We lived happily for months after that. Everything was going smooth until one day when I received another text, "He is lying. This isn't me. Don't believe him"... | 2020-07-23T12:22:24 | 2020-07-23T12:02:20 | 154 | 14 |
[WP] You've been marked by the Devil, but not because You made a deal with the Devil, but the Devil made a deal with You to help him out of a weird situation... Only that's a bit hard to explain to a group of demonhunters who are hunting you down for being marked, since this basically never happens. | "Alright then! So you expect us to believe that Mephistopheles herself begged you to use your bathroom- because she underestimated the power of Taco Bell?"
Abraham nodded vigorously. "Fine looking lady, about seven feet tall, wearing the most expensive clothes I've ever seen. She rapped at my door late into the evening as I made myself a sandwich and begged to use the bathroom. As in, she seemed about to kneel but that would've caused an accident."
"... I see..." Murmured Jacinto, his furrowed brow hidden by the shadow of his NFL cap. "Look here." He pointed at his right. A young bald man bearding a goatee and wearing a white shirt stared at the floor with squinted eyes. "If Keith hadn't been inexperienced enough to shoot you with a ticket-seeker you'd probably be treading the Stairway to Heaven right now."
Abraham gulped.
"Your mark," Jacinto pointed at Abraham's forehead. "It stinks to high heaven. Mephistopheles' deals usually mean she automatically takes your heaven-ticket, what you call your "soul". It breaks the first commandment "Thou shalt not pray to The Enemy-"
"Wait, so why she put me this?"
"Mimphy isn't known for her bright choices."
Keith snorted.
"... I see."
"Though her angelic rebellion did work wonders up there. Angels are as imperfect as humans, and while it wouldn't have costed Father to cast them down for their future actions, He yet leaves them the choice. Mimphy was the one to rally them up with chiff chaff about beauty and tyranny. In truth, all she wanted was a Father-imposed nap time- no Enchiladas for a millennium that resulted."
Keith couldn't resist more and let out a loud cackle.
"Will you shut up!" Scorned Jacinto. "Grief kid! We are in serious business in here!"
"Chief, all this shit sounds straight off Bobby-ring!" Keith said, wheezing, a tear treading down his cheek.
Jacinto sighed and brought a hand to his face. "Alright... just... Go. Enjoy your free Devil-favor. Who knows? You can probably even date her with that or something. May you go to heaven- Here give me your hand." He took Abraham's left hand and gave it a strong slap.
"What's that for?" He asked, examining the faint blue lines on the back of his hand.
"That mark says "Ain't touch mah shit." It'll keep my fellows away if you find any of them. Aight? Let's go Kid." And they kept walking down the street.
That fatidical afternoon wasn't the last time Mephistopheles destroyed that toilet. Perhaps the only sure way to true love is Taco Bell. Abraham, meanwhile? He never needed to use that mark.
Fin. | so there he was at work listlessly staring in to his phone. waiting for some poor soul to need the geek squad. another in an endless string of hours at work like Dave had existed through so many times before. little did he know, this day would be nothing like the others when all was said and done.
a customer appeared in Dave's vision seemingly and actually from nowhere, but Dave was not paying attention and assumed he did not see the customer approach. "wicked suit." Dave remarks. the man replies "it is nice isn't it?" spreading his jacket to reveal more to his admirer.
"on to the point, i require something, and believe you can assist"
"sure hope so, that's what they keep me here for."
the customer produces a box from behind the counter, a familiar beige color.
"wow that looks old. does it still work?"
"of course, i care for my tools a keep them in perfect working order."
sure enough he undid the clasps and lowered the keyboard revealing "Osbourne Computer Corporation" and tapped the power, the screen lit up. and it beeped a successful post.
"i see you've made some modifications, this never came with a battery and predates power on self testing," eyes wide "and it definitely could not support windows 10 and the internet."
"i keep up with the times."
"indeed. what specifically do you need help with?"
"i require knowledge on thinking machines, social media, and bitcoin."
"that's not typically what we do here, but i can instruct you in my free time."
"time and money are of no importance. i require knowledge."
"you could teach yourself, there are some places that could help."
Dave proceeds to show the stranger some sites but is having trouble with the small screen.
"man this is hard to see."
"allow me." the stranger opens an unnoticed lid containing a screen and revealing the laptops interior. "thank you." says Dave. look's like nothing special at a glance, "must be custom work" he thinks, but he continues working.
he begins with reddit setting up an account using the name the stranger gave Lou Star. joining several boards r/MachineLearning, r/crypto, and r/socialmedia to start.
Lou thanks Dave and begins paying for services, but once it comes time to hand over money or swipe. Lou hands over a business card, Dave thanks him and places it on the counter. prompting with "you can swipe your payment card here." indicating the machine.
Lou picks up the business card from the counter, swipes it, and places it back on the counter. Dave caught off guard, and thinking it was a joke, laughs.
then a receipt prints. Dave shocked goes through the motions and hands him his receipt. Lou turns to leave. Dave docent remember seeing Lou get the laptop before leaving and looks where it was. nothing there. he turns to call to Lou and make sure he got his machine. nothing there.
Dave pick's up the card, and reads: "Lucifer Morning Star" with an ornate symbol watermarked in it.
flash forward several months.
Dave is doing well he has most everything he wants, except piece and quiet, due to an official looking lady pounding at the door.
she would introduce herself as Ms. Ann from the IRS. but now Dave knows not to trust an introduction, anymore. she asks odd questions for an IRS agent more interested in his personality rather than money and income.
then she finally gets to it the money where did it come from? he requests a lawyer. she continues unabated. he demands a lawyer and she produces a knife and asks again.
"where does the money come from. you are just some random human, nothing special, but all the paperwork screams infernal. last time before i have to use necromancy to continue questioning you. where does the money come from."
Dave metaphorically spills his guts, telling "Ann" everything. even demonstrating using the card.
"SHIT!" she exclaims then speaks in to her shirt collar "it's just a human with a artifact from a deal. don't you think i know that! fine! standing down."
"Ann" left without another word. leaving Dave to get back to his morning routine. mumbling "fuckin' Helsings no manners at all." | 2021-06-11T20:43:59 | 2021-06-11T19:27:15 | 95 | 23 |
[WP] "Save big money at Menards!" Isn't a jingle. A rapper by the name of "Big Money," has been trapped inside of Menards for years. Through subtle hints coming from the tv, you're finally starting to understand what's happening. | My name is Tom Farland. I work as a camera operator at Eirk Marketing Corp. For the past three years I've been working on a project with Menard's based around their jingle "Save big money at Menards!" In the course of this project I've discovered a serious problem. I'm recording my thoughts in this entry on the off chance that I'm not crazy.
If I'm not crazy, I'll probably be next. If I'm not crazy, they have no shame. I've documented the commercials below in succession. In the order that you've seen them. Even though they've been airing months apart:
*The first commercial. The opening proudly displays the Menards name. In the commercial, a local shopper walks into Menards. Many Menards employees follow them inside. They all wear smiles. The camera pans to one employee who addresses the camera. "We will be there for you. You'll have so many people here to help that it will be impossible to feel alone. Save big money at Menards!"*
*The second commercial. The picture shows a local shopper named "Jamal Davis". He's wearing a watch that appears quite fancy. Other notable clothing includes a diamond-studded necklace with dozens of connected dollar sign symbols. He addresses the camera. "I always enjoy my shopping experience here. The prices are low and the service can't be beat. The selection is so vast that you can get lost in it." The shopper's eye seem almost pleading. "Save big money at Menards!"*
*The third commercial. Several Menards employees walk together with a shopper. It's the same man from the previous two commercials. They lead him over to a selection of safes. The prices and brand names are displayed prominently as they scroll across the bottom of the screen. The shopper doesn't speak. One of the Menards employees does, "Here at Menards, we have a huge selection of safes for your every day needs. Just see one of our happy employees and they would love to help you!" All of the employees smile at the camera. "I mean, can you imagine a person being trapped in a safe of this quality? They'd never make it out! Save big money at Menards!"*
*The fourth commercial. Several Menards employees stand near a door that leads to the back. One of them speaks to the screen. "This is where all the happy Menards magic happens behind the scenes! This area is employee only and no one else should come here. This is where we assemble and pack boxes for our delivery orders. This is where we store our extra stock before it hits our shelves. It would be very dangerous for someone else to come back here unattended. We highly value your safety. Thank you for your time. Save big money at Menards!"*
*The fifth commercial. The manager of a Menards location speaks directly to the camera. "Some of you may have heard about an unfortunate incident where a poor grandmother became lost at our Menards. Our employees were able to quickly locate her after her status was reported. We are very attentive and love our community. No one could ever become lost or trapped at Menards! Save big money at Menards!"*
That's all the commercials. I don't know what to do. Jamal Davis IS Big Money. He's been missing for ages. It's been here... the whole time. And I'm complicit! I'm going to click the upload button on this footage shortly. Hopefully you can see the truth.
I can't believe that Menards has been doing this in plain sight. Please, please if you see this footage. Save Big Money. Save me. We'll be at Menards.
There was a series of rapid fire noises.
*Knock. Knock. Knock.*
"Save Tom Farland at Menards!" | 1/X
"Save big money from Menards..." The song rang out, slightly different than what Jerald's ears were used to, causing them to perk up, dropping the spoon he'd used to eat his cereal onto his oak wood table, spilling his food onto the carpet that sat underneath his feet.
"Thats new..." Jerald spoke attempted to grab his spoon away from the carpet to no avail. The carpet had claimed another one. He attempted to pull the spoon away tersely before giving up. The spoon and fork ridden ground shined as the sun peered in through a nearby window, basking Jerald in light as he looked down at his watch, his groggy demeanor fading away instantly as he jolted up from his seat.
"What's the matter?" Bertha, Jerald's overbearing mother questioned as she attempted to pry away the spoons and forks on the ground without Jerald noticing.
"How long have you been there for?"
"Three hours," Bertha spoke chipperly with winced eyes as she looked up at Jerald from underneath the table, "So what's bothering you?"
"Well, firstly, I'm going to be late for work, so I might as well just take my time now," Jerald spoke laxly as he too began to tear away the spoons from the carpet.
"Man--" Jerald spoke, ripping away a spoon with a large cluster of carpet stuck from the hilt all the way to the base of the spoon, transforming it into what could only be described as a Chewbacca spoon.
Jerald turned to his mother, dropping to the to its cleared side accidentally, causing to become in lodged once more, "I know someone who can replace our carpet if you want to--"
"No! Absolutely, scrumpidoodly not! Your father gave me this carpet for our tenth anniversary!"
"Fifteen years ago..." Jerald mumbled underneath his breath with a sigh as his mother continued cleaning the carpet.
Bertha turned her head to Jerald, still holding her smile with a soft sigh as her winced eyes slowly widened, expressing a nonverbal sadness, "He'll be back, Jerald. He's just lost..." she spoke despondently as her grin slowly faded, ripping away the spoons and forks off of the carpet like a crazed person pulling out their own hair.
"I'm sorry, mom. I'm sure he'll be back one day..." Jerald choked out, grasping his mother's shoulder before standing to his feet.
"I've gotta go now, mom. Need anything while I'm out?"
"Just be sure to keep a lookout for your dad. I'm sure he's nearby by-- I know it..."
"Alright, mom, I will," Jerald spoke exasperatedly, heading for the door as tears trailed behind him, dribbling onto the stained carpet as his mother desperately continued to pull the silverware away from the carpet.
"Bring back some more silverware too!" She shouted out as Jerald closed the door behind him.
"Okay..." his muffled voice retorted as he reached the outside world. The morning sun and morning dew brought back a nostalgic sense of childhood for him as he began digging into his pockets for his car keys. His pockets jangle, yet his keys hid from him, frustrating him enough to dig deep into his pants with enough force to rip through the thin garments, only stopped by a sharp object that sat in his pants.
"Shit!" Jerald shouted, pulling his hand out of his pocket as blood leaked down blue jeans and shirt. He digs back into his pocket, pulling out a pen pointed toward him with its sharp side up with a name written on the side of it, 'Menards,' the place at which he worked.
In a rage, he began putting pressure on both ends of the pen, attempting to snap it in half as the ink of the pen that had been encumbered inside of cheap plastic crackled and crunched. He breaks it in half, a tiny tune playing aloud as a beeping chip flashed red on the gravel ground.
"Save Big Money-- Save Big Money-- Save Big Money--" The melody looped, cutting dry like a scratched record reiterating the same part of a song with a stutter.
"What the--"
"Save big money with Menard..." The song finished, the chip exploding on the ground as Jerald looked on in shock.
"-- I don't have time for this," Jerald spoke aloud as he finally tore the keys free from his pockets, walking toward his car with aggravation as he started up the engine.
It revved, seemingly out of battery before the radio turned on, singing the jingle once more, "Save Big Money With Menard..." the radio spoke, cutting out as a news station turned took its place, "Fifteen years ago today, a well-known rapper known as Big Money went missing without a trace--" the radio cuts off, leaving Jerald perplexed as the car finally started up.
He began driving toward his workplace, five minutes away at most as he rolled down his window, enjoying the morning atmosphere before the chaotic afternoon took its place.
He drove leisurely down the road, no more than thirty miles per hour, before reaching the parking lot of Menards. He parked his car in a reserved spot before heading in, pulling his key out of the ignition box, walking into the building with a fake smile that he'd struggled to put on this specific morning as blood continued to dribble from his palm.
The two sliding doors of the entrance open, greeting Jerald as they squeaked with each movement they made. | 2021-06-28T13:49:46 | 2021-06-28T13:19:07 | 177 | 37 |
[WP] 2 years ago, tired of all the bugs in your house, you made a deal with a spider. He would protect your house from pests, and you would not kill it or drive it off. When you made the deal, you could have held the spider in your hand, now, it is much bigger, and its definition of 'pests' is also. | Did you know you can talk with spiders? They're pretty quiet, but if you know some German, and a little smidgen of Mandarin Chinese, you can usually make out some words.
My spider is talkative for one of his kind. He can really hold a conversation, as long as it's about eating or webs. Right now though, he certainly wasn't following my point.
"And so," I said, "For surgical reasons, Mrs. Melville's dachshund was neither annoying, nor virulent. He was in fact, a joy to all who knew him. Not. A. Pest."
My significantly larger than dog sized spider raised a clawed leg, in what I can only assume is polite disagreement. "Dog nutritious. Good dog, yes. I eat pests. I eat dog. Dog is pest."
I groaned, and thought furiously. I suspected willful stupidity, but this would be difficult to prove. For now, a stop-gap measure was required.
"What else in the neighborhood is a pest?"
My spider scratched his head with one leg. He'd picked up some oddly human body language, I'd have to check his television habits sometime.
"Bugs. Birds. Melvilles. Squirrels..."
I cut him off. "Melvilles? You mean the rest of the Melville family?"
He nodded by bobbing his entire body up and down.
"The Melvilles aren't pests, got it?"
No response. I glared at him, and turned my head meaningfully to the can of RAID I kept on display in the windowsill.
The spider remained silent but signaled that it was thinking. Finally, it spoke as if offering a deep insight. "Melvilles no longer prey."
"Good," I said. "Great. What else is prey?"
"Small spiders, coyotes, loiterers. Squirrels, but not backyard squirrel."
"What's so great about the backyard squirrel?"
"Yes. Good squirrel, nutritious. Dead, no longer prey."
It took me a minute to make the connection. Ooooh, dear. This called for a change in plans. Given the faint sirens I heard in the distance, a very rapid change in plans. I knelt down to give my spider a gentle pat.
"Hey, you know what's really annoying? Witnesses." | I sat down, the couch giving as I entrusted my full weight to its care. It had been nice and quiet for many days now, a fact I could gratefully attribute to my new roommate.Well... they weren't new, but they were odd enough that it still felt very recent I had struck up the arrangement.
A couple of years ago, I had been irritated by the seemingly constant infestations plaguing my apartment complex. Flies, mosquitoes, weird silver maggots. It was unbearable, always the distressing buzz of wingbeats in the air, or bug bites all along my arms. And they were all grotesquely huge, some even the size of my fingernail. One day, I was leaning out the window, letting out the smoke from my cigarette and getting some fresh air (While simultaneously hoping some of the bugs would get the hint and leave).
As I pried it open, I spotted a, well, 'itsy bitsy spider' just on my sill. I've always been partial to spiders, since they've never done me any harm, and just as I was about to finish my cigarette, I realized that this could be the solution to my problem. A household spider to dispose of my pests? Brilliant! I invited the spider in by lifting him onto a tiny Q-tip and bringing him to a nice, dark corner of my house.
I didn't think much of it afterwards, except that it seemed a lot less loud around the place. It wasn't until November that the first strange event occurred.I had just returned from work, and I was bringing some groceries with me. As I let myself in, I heard some peculiar muttering and saw, to my alarm, that the television was on. Some godawful soap was playing, so I went to turn it off when I hurt a tiny voice plead with me.
"wait. please don't!"
I turned in surprise to see a spider roughly the size of a penny resting on my couch.
"Excuse me?" I asked, incredulous.
The spider repeated itself."i quite like that show, if you don't mind."
Dumbfounded, I let him keep watching, and after only a week, it became totally normal to hear odd little comments come from the spider. Most of the time it was some offhand statement about how unkempt my apartment was, which, the little arachnid explained to me, was due to the fact that spiders took such great pains to craft their homes, whether they be burrows or webs, that they simply couldn't stand to see a trashed home.
This often bugged (heh) me, but we actually got on great, as I was all too surprised to find. It was unclear when he developed the capacity for speech, since he seemed to be just as confused as I, but once he had it, he just wouldn't shut up, and I would never have told him to. He became very dear to me, and he even helped me quit smoking. It was an awful habit, really, but I never could have done it without his help.
It wasn't lost on me, however, that he was steadily growing. Eventually, I remarked on it.
"I know you must have a healthy diet due to all these pests about, but really, is it normal for you to be the size of my hand?"
"is it normal for me to able to talk?" He riposted, and we left it at that.
We would often watch his stupid soaps on the television. I wasn't a fan of them per se, but there was certainly something in them that I couldn't tear myself away from. Like watching a train wreck, but the train is full of stupid dickheads. It was on one of these days, when he made an offhand comment to me that started us on a strange adventure.
Continued in replies | 2021-07-04T01:11:07 | 2021-07-03T23:12:36 | 51 | 31 |
[WP] Mere moments from death, the character falls to their knees and begs for mercy. To the villain's surprise/confusion, instead of the usual reasons ("I have a family!") or bribes ("I have a lot of money!"), this person says.... | "If you kill me, you won't fulfill the prophecy!" The Demon Lord looked down at the hero. For 3 days and nights they fought and the Demon Lord finally had the upper hand. But this? It was a trick.
"Hero, I have slain many but this? Trickery doesn't become you."
"It's no trick, Master Vak-riz-zorich." Only one group of people called him by that. Only one group was *allowed*. "Your priests sent me."
The Demon Lord put his blade aside. "What? Why? They DARE betray me?!"
"No, master. They figured out the prophecy. You were to be defeated by the one described in the hero's prophecy. But your defeat would only let you rest as you would be reborn into a royal bloodline."
"The Crown of Madness. But how? Why you?"
"I fill the description of the hero. Born with the mark of the slain." He lifted his shirt and showed the birthmark that looked like fatal claw marks. "Mother was a priest, Father is a knight of a dishonored lord. If I beat you, I can just let you go. Otherwise, a different hero could trap you after your defeat and cast you back into the Dread Void."
"And so my priests decided to shift the odds in my favor. Yes, clever. But why not share this plan?"
"If word got out, it could be used against you. Plans could be made to ensure you'd never claim your rightful throne."
The Demon Lord smiled. Fate has never been kind to him, but now he had the chance to write his own history. "Then strike me down. Help me fulfill my destiny and claim this world as my plunder!"
The so-called hero took his sword and pierced the Demon Lord's heart. As the vision from the Demon Lord faded, he saw the pawn pull out a strange crystal. A soul trapping crystal.
"Damn, I never thought you'd fall for it." | 'I have to fart.'
The hooded figure blinked, sword still in the air. 'Huh?'
The young man looked up from whee he was kneeling. 'I'm sorry. I just... Uhh, I have to fart really bad, and I meant to come up with something more compelling. But have you ever had one of those giant farts just hanging out in your bum, and you can't get it to move? And you're afraid if you push too hard you might drop a load. I mean, I know that after you, ah,' he pointed to the large sword still overhead and then drew a finger across his throat, 'I will likely shit myself, but who wants to do it before, you know? Like, I don't want to be known as Aaron the pants shitter. Oh, and what if I'm a ghost afterwards and I can't rest because I can't ever pass ghost wind? Like torture me or kill me or whatever, but damming me to walk around in a state of flatus interruptus is just mean.'
Aaron could barely see the hooded man's features through the cloth, but he'd swear the man was gawping at him. After a long silence, the sword lowered into the ground.
'Go ahead,' ordered the man in a low, gravely voice. 'I have massacred villages, entire families. Left many an orphan, but to leave a man ungassed is apparently against even my moral code. Fart.'
Aaron and the man stared at each other for a long moment, Aaron wincing as he jiggled his ass in an attempt to free the gas. Finally, a squeak was heard. The squeak quickly turned into a rumble, and then a roar as he let loose.
The silence left behind was profound. The hooded man's army shifted. A few made faces of disgust. The hooded man rested the sword in the dirt as he buried his face in his hands for a long moment. Aaron eyed him warily.
Finally, the hooded man spoke. 'Go. You are free.'
'Free?' squeaked Aaron, unsure if he had heard correctly.
The man sighed, a long loud sigh. 'If I kill you, and your family avenges you, they may carry the same foul gas. And I am only a man, and one day, those noxious fumes may one day kill me.' He gestured to his men to leave. 'Bother me no more, Ass Trumpeter.'
'See?' Aaron said to the buxom wench in the tavern. 'That's why they call me Aaron the ass trumpeter.'. The wench looked fascinated. Aaron leaned in, wondering if he could steal a kiss, or a honk on her breast.
'Aaron, you great twat,' his mate Pax shouted across the room, 'We call you that because you ate yourself sick on rancid goat and no one could use the dunny for a month!'
The wench scooted away. Aaron sighed. Try as he might, he could never get away from his nickname. It might be time to pay a visit to the local brothel. No-nose Ella was always good for a laugh anyway. | 2021-08-30T20:48:31 | 2021-08-30T20:02:08 | 220 | 102 |
[WP] "Son, i need to tell you something. I am a god." "Dad, I'm 20 and studying mythology. You don't think i haven't figured that out?" | "I'm so glad you came home for Thanksgiving, JJ. But before everyone else arrives I'd like to get a chance to talk with you about something. Can you sit down?" The words Mama H used implied it was a polite request, but the tone of her voice struck Jule's brain like a command. She had learned to ignore Mama H's commands when she was a child, but she obeyed anyways.
She sat down at the table, which Mama H had arrayed with the good china, the real silverware, and even the antique gravy boat that for some reason she always kept locked behind glass over the mantle. "What is it Mom?"
Mama H knelt down to look Jule straight in the eyes. "JJ, you turned twenty last week. I think you are finally old enough to know the family secrets. The truth about my side of the family." As she grabbed Jule's hands, the rest of the room seemed to go dark. The only thing Jule could see were her glowing eyes floating in the darkness. "I— I am a god."
Light flowed back into the room. Jule's mouth was slightly agape and she rolled her eyes. "Mom, I know. I've known since I was a kid."
Mama H jerked back and gasped in surprise. "How could you know? I've hidden it from you for all these years."
"Mom, your name is Hera. And you're currently nine feet tall. You forgot to shrink again. And Uncle Heph gave me a talking mechanical owl for my last birthday. And despite the fact that I am a hundred pound girl I can lift a car. And —"
Hera shrunk back down to a stately six feet and smoothed her hair. "Well. If you already know then I suppose there's not much to talk about, and I have a roast oxen in the oven to baste." She turned towards the kitchen.
"Wait, Mom. If we are talking about family secrets, why don't you tell me about Mama J?"
Hera froze for a second and wiped her eyes before turning back. "Your Mama Julia was the best person in the world. She's where you get your better half. You are a lot like her, your brown hair, your green eyes, that single-minded drive you have. She was a power to be reckoned with."
As she spoke, Hera futzed around with the table. When she got to the gravy boat, she held it in her hands without speaking for a minute. Jule interrupted her reminiscing. "And you were both my biological parents?"
"Oh, I took on another form for the day. A simple thing." She set the antique back down and turned back to Jule. "When you were born, things changed. She wished for a better world for you, a normal childhood. She couldn't escape the old world, though. The entanglements kept pulling her back until she was lost."
The doorbell rang. Hera rushed to the kitchen. "That'll be Herm. He's always early. You go play hostess, I've got to finish this basting."
(For fun, I set this one in the same universe as [yesterday's prompt](https://www.reddit.com/r/c_avery_m/comments/rdc990/wp_greetings_mortal_i_am_hera_queen_of_the_gods/).)
\[More at r/c_avery_m\] | I’ve always knows my dad was… “special”
My mom had died in childbirth, so all my life it was just my dad and I. Every other kid in school had two parents, but I never felt jealous because my dad was more than enough.
In second grade, when Tommy shoved me into a locker and peed on me somehow my dad knew. When I got home he sat me down at the table and asked me if I wanted a pet. As any normal kid would be, I was ecstatic! He told me to be a good boy and I would have a new friend tomorrow.
The next day Tommy wasn’t at school, and he never showed up again. However when I got home, my dad had built a pen in the backyard, and there was a wolf in there.
“Here’s your new friend, I just made..errrmm found him this morning!”
Now normally a father would not allow their child to go anywhere near a wolf, but like I said, my dad was special. Also, for some reason I knew the wolf would never hurt me.
“What’s his name?” I asked
“His name’s Tom! What do you think?”
“I love him!”
Every day after school I would come home and play with Tom, and whenever I got bullied my dad would ask me the same question.
“Would you like a pet?”
And every time I said yes. And the next day there would be another wolf, with a similar name to my bully, out in the pen with Tom.
It took me too long to figure out the truth, but it was so absurd I didn’t believe it. No human can turn someone into a wolf right?
But then I started thinking about it. Isn’t it weird that my dad has looked the same for as long as I can remember? Also what kind of name is Loky? He always used to joke that his dad wanted to name him after a powerful god but he couldn’t spell, but I’ve never met someone with worse dyslexia than my dad. It’s almost as though he spoke a different language, but that can’t be right, I always hear him talk in English! Also what about his constant, child-like pranks? There was that one time in eighth grade when I was getting yelled at by a teacher for something someone else did, and then I caught a glimpse of my dad outside the window. The next thing I knew there was a pie flying through the open window that landed right in my teacher’s face. The security cameras didn’t see anything, and my dad never mentioned it but I definitely saw him there.
Then, when I turned 18 my school did a unit on Norse mythology, and it all hit me. The snakes that were always in the lawn, all the wolves, the amazing halloween costumes that I could’ve sworn were real.
Two years later I awakened. I was brushing my teeth as normal, and I saw my horrible bed head.
“I wish my hair was straight instead of super curly, it would make life so much easier” I said aloud to no one in particular. Then, as I was watching my hair started to straighten and drop into a perfect part.
OH MY GOD
“I wish my hair was pink and curly”
OH MY GOD
“I wish I was muscular”
OH MY GOD
“You know, I think it’s time we had that talk now” I heard the familiar voice of my dad say from right behind me.
“Dad, we’re in the middle of New York! You live in Seattle! When did you get here?”
“I just left, it’s a pretty short fly when you know what you’re doing. Anyways, son I need to tell you something. I am a god.”
“Dad I’m 20 and I’ve been studying mythology ever since my Norse mythology unit in twelfth grade. You really think I don’t know”
“Errr well uhhh” he stuttered. He clearly expected me to be surprised and overwhelmed, and my laid back manner seems to have short-circuited him.
“Why don’t you tech me how to fly, and we can forget the part where you lied about my ancestry for 20 years.” I said, raising my now purple eyebrow at him.
“Uhh sure, let me just eat some breakfast.”
“Also, can you teach me how to turn people into wolves? There’s this really annoying kid in my class that says Loki is a pushover” I said with a wicked gleam in my eye.
“Hahahahahaha, I would love to. Let’s try it out on some white supremacists first though, you need someone with a weak mind to practice on.”
————————————————-
Please let me know what you think, this is my first post here and I really want to develop my writing skills so any feedback is welcome! | 2021-12-10T08:48:39 | 2021-12-10T08:37:29 | 231 | 142 |
[WP] The galaxy was amused when they learned that Humans have Rules of War. They were less amused when they figured out what Humans do in war when there are no rules. | Know this. You have done this to yourselves.
You were warned. Even as you laughed and called us primitives, wanting our planets to add to the so-called Million Worlds of your dominion. So many times you were warned: our hyperdrives are not like yours.
We told you this when you arrived to terraform our colonies. We warned you that our drives do not bend spacetime like yours. They pierce holes in it, and that with effort, we can form those holes anywhere.
We warned you of the things we could do to you, but chose not to.
You did not believe our warnings. You could not comprehend having a capability and not using it. Still, we took the higher road, offering you an armistice, but our offer of peace was met with violence and fire.
We gave you too many chances.
Now, ash and boiling oceans are all that remains of our final colonies. You likely think you have won, but I suspect you do not appreciate the scope of what devils you now unleash upon yourselves.
You did not break our spirits with your fire. Those of us remaining are hardened. Our old restraint is burned away now—our high minded scruples were ground to dust beneath your boots.
It is not the better angels of our nature you see before you now, for you have killed them too, along with our colonies, all of their blood still slick upon your hands.
No. You will suffer the wrath of our long restrained demons instead. The gates are opened, and their chains now lie upon the ground.
You will watch as the stars around which every one of your Million Worlds revolves fade to oblivion as their mass drains away into carefully targeted hyperdrive apertures, like water from a bathtub. Your Million Worlds will die, and then you, too, will understand what it is to have everything taken from you.
You launched the first strike of this war. We have launched the last. | There were horrors outside the door.
Horrors upon horrors upon horrors.
Nothing that no one else had not lived through before, learned before, seen, heard, smelled, tasted, and touched before.
Screaming blades in the dark and stark flashes of light in the void.
But none of that mattered, because it was outside the door. In a little functionary's room there was only discussion, even if it led nowhere. Full of pockmarks and blood and the acrid stench of fear, death, and pain.
"There's nothing to be done, so why are you here?" Asked the diplomat in the chair. A chair where many predecessors of theirs had died both quickly and not.
There was no protection for diplomats you see.
But still they sent a diplomat. For that was just the way of things it seemed, for those that begged for rules.
Foolish to send a sacrifice, even as worlds burned.
Tallies taken, debts driven, horrors heaped.
Perhaps it was one of their rules? No others continued to send messengers when war came. It was pointless. Purposeless.
"Because you are here, I am to repair the room, and it is my inclination to ask. Why is it that you come? Your people are at war with conquest block. Too come here is to die, it is not as if the other blocks here would care." Asked the mason with their trowel. They worked slowly, aged ligaments and pock riddled lungs taking toll.
"The last one said it was because it was their job. The one before because it was necessary. The one before that said it was a punishment." The scrape of mortar upon the walls.
"...Good answers. I am here to maintain a channel of communication between us and yours and them. That is a purpose of it." The diplomat replied, dulled voice and attention, disillusioned and uncaring? The mason coughed as another hole was filled.
"A purpose, one of many?" Another hole was filled. Pock riddled lungs did not take well to the dust of masonry.
"...it is done and I suppose it does no harm to tell you. There will be no victory for my people. Yours understands that very well." The diplomat comments, it leans upon the table and watches the mason work. The tiredness of it coming close.
"But perhaps not well enough. While we cannot achieve victory, we are very able to deny our enemy victory...it is strange to us that yours never understands that."
"It is a paradoxical statement, to not allow your enemy victory is to win victory yourself. Is it not?" The mason had to stop the work, the tiredness of it all creeping upon aging limbs.
"...no, it is because we resign ourselves to defeat, as long as you all are here with us...you should go home, the assassins will come soon..." The diplomat sighed as they lay their head upon the table. Resigned to death, as was all the others.
"...I do not understand, but thank you for your answer. I will leave when I am done." The mason felt hind limbs collapse, a coldness in everything, a heaviness in the lungs.
"...too late now...I am sorry. Truly." The diplomat sighed, there were horrors outside the door.
And none of it mattered. | 2022-01-23T17:29:57 | 2022-01-23T16:28:58 | 71 | 30 |
[WP] There once was a legendary mage whose lack of a max mana cap allowed for slow but powerful spells that laid waste upon the land. After the unification of the races, their leaders have come to negotiate with the living catastrophe who hasn't cast a spell in centuries. | -Please, don't you start your puny conflicts on my backyard!
The ancient mage, whose name was forgotten even by himself at this point, watched from the balcony of his tower as a dubious coalition gathered below, Judging by the ornamental armory, bejeweled weapons and carriages, big enough to fit a dozen people, these were kings and queens of mortal races. And as soon as those gathered in one place, it could only mean one thing - War.
-We don't come here to fight, oh Wise one.
Mage couldn't help but twitch, as he heard a human queen speak, addressing him this way.
-Hooman spik tru, zog. Us here to spik peas with ya.
For a moment, mage almost let the handles of the balcony go, shocked by the image of a huge ogre in a spiky armor, speaking of peace, in a broken humantongue?
-That has to be a joke, right? - mage rubbed his temples, thinking out loud, -You ogres wage wars with humans like twice a month, what are you talking about?
-Actually, Humans and Ogres have joined the United Confederation of Races two years ago and there have been no major incidents so far, - a tall, pointy-eared elf spoke, probably a king or something.
-Yeah, right.
He could have entertained the possibility, sure, it wasn't the first time that mage heard about unlikely alliances, but this? No, this has to be some kind of farce.
-You don't expect me to believe that, do you? And what's next? You gonna tell me that Elves and Dwarves are allied now?
-For about two centuries now, yeah, - dwarven king spoke, almost unnoticeable next to a tall elven monarch, -I'm just heading from the banquet we had too, these wooden blokes cook some of the best lamb in the land now.
Elves. Raising lambs and cooking meet. Mage grabbed his head, confused. What's going on with the world? Is he out of his mind now? Is that an illusion?
-So, basically, all the races came to agreement about peace now, - once again, the human queen spoke out, trying to ignore an old mage pulling on his cheek with all his might, -That's why we came to broker peace with the last remaining force on the continent, the great mage, whose magic traverses millennia and has the strength to reduce this world to nothingness. Would you accept?
-Yeah, about that...
Mage exhaled, raising his eyes to the skies. How could he have imagined something like that happened? All world, in peace, without his involvement? Not a chance, right? And still, it happened, but...
-You see, there's this small issue... Remember how you guys had a huge battle right near my tower about seven or eight hundred years ago? - mage spoke, sounding like he's carefully choosing his words.
Below the balcony, dozens of world leaders exchanged confused glances. Eventually, elven king spoke out.
-My father spoke of a battle that transpired in those lands during his reign, indeed. But what of it?
-Well, that's embarrassing... You kind of pissed me off back then, so I've cast a spell in retaliation, which would wipe out you all. You know, to stop the wars and all that. For peace!
A dreadful silence filled the air as mage observed the most powerful people amongst mortals turn pale. Even the green-skinned lizardmen, whose queen dropped her tail in realization.
Moments later, the coalition broke into chaos, some leaders jumping on their carriages to run away, others breaking down into hysteria, and some falling onto the ground, their hearts probably stopped in shock.
-W-when would that spell come in effect!? - human queen screamed, as everybody turned their gazes to her, -How much time do we have?!
-Well, about that...
Mage averted his gaze, but he couldn't finish his line. A white flash sparked, for barely a second, and as soon as light dispersed, nothing, not even a speck of dust remained in front of his tower. Somewhere far away, civilizations evaporated in an instance, living behind not a trace of sentient life. Just peaceful nature remained.
-Yeaaah, that was awkward.
Mage retreated into his tower, contemplating if he should reverse the spell.
"Nah", he thought almost instantly, turning to enjoy the somber peace of the new world.
>Note: sorry for my broken English, I'm pretty sure I missed a thousand of "a", "an" and "the" :D | 'There is it,' the Dwarves Representative announces, their gloved finger pointing towards a huge lump of green in the middle of a forest clearing.
The Ogre King hums and pulls out his map, 'According to map, we arrived.'
The Elf Queen frowns, 'Are you certain? That do not look like human dwelling, let alone the legendary mage's cottage.'
But it is. As they get closer, carving a path of broken grass under their feet, the trio of leaders of the New Kingdom see that the lump is indeed an cottage. An extremely overgrown one, covered brick-to-brick with weed and over spilled with vines, but a cottage nonetheless if the single round window at the top is anything to go by.
For a moment, the air is filled by ruffling noises and coughs as the leaders clear their throats and readjust their garments. Talking to a legendary mage with unlimited mana is a honor, even if that mage had not casted a spell in thousands of years.
The Elf Queen starts first by bellowing their introduction, 'Mage! We are the High Order of-' , only to be cut off by a strong gust of wind.
Suddenly, a door springs open from between the weed. It too is covered so densely in vegetation, they could not see it before.
The Elf Queen is irritated at being cut off but before she can repeat her words, the Ogre King holds out a silencing arm. His relaxed expression from before has turned serious, 'We come in.'
'That looks dodgy,' the Dwarf Representative squints at the inviting darkness. Just to be sure, they call out, 'Mage, may we come in?'
There is no answer. However, the door flaps a little in another gust of wind, as if to wave them inside.
'They want enter,' the Ogre King growls quietly.
The Elf Queen and the Dwarf Representative stare at him in puzzlement, as ogres are the most hypervigilant of all races. This looks clearly like a trap of some kind.
The King immediately notices their hesitance. He softens his expression and explains in a reassuring tone, 'I do not smell metal or aggression. But I smell something sad, so perhaps the mage lonely.'
Ogre's assessment of danger is always accurate, so the elf and the dwarf relax a little. Still, as the three of them enter the door one by one, their postures are stiff with tension. Each of them expects the door to spring shut as soon as the last get in.
It does not. Instead, it hangs there in perfect stillness, offering an escape of light between the box of darkness.
​
Inside, everything is bathed in a thin veil of light. Other than the round window they just saw and the opened door, there is no other light source. From where they stand, the trio can see a plush living room leading straight to a cozy kitchen. In between the two spaces, a simple cot hangs next to a stack of old tomes acting as a side table. There is no stairs. Even in limited lighting, the place looks homely, so much so that one can almost skim through the mess of parchments on the floor.
The Elf Queen can feel the the hair at the back of her neck standing on end. 'Ogre, Dwarf, once again, are you certain we are at the right place? This place is desolate.'
'There might have been a mistake,' the Ogre King hisses and draws his axe, his eyes darting around rapidly.
Still, his eyesight cannot rival a dwarf, who immediately notices the lone tea bag on the kitchen counter, next to a chipped mug.
'They were making tea? They must be out to get some water. We barely miss them then,' the dwarf says cheerily.
The heavy tension in the air slides off in sheets at their words. His companions sigh, before dropping their weapons. If the mage is nearby, they only have to wait for them.
To be polite, the three leaders settle uncomfortably on the only sofa in the cottage, which is clearly not designed to sit more than one and a half person. As a result, the tall elf and the wide ogre sit on two opposite end, leaving the small dwarf squished between them.
After a long period of hot, sweaty silence, the Elf Queen finally breaks, 'It is getting warm here, don't you think?'.
"Warm" is of course an underestimation. She can feel every crevice of heat in her armor, accompanied by the gross accumulating moisture, and hopes desperately for something to fan herself with.
The Ogre King pants in agreement, 'I agree, Queen. I am certain the Mage will not mind if we open the windows.'
'I will get us drinks!' The Dwarf Representative chips in.
'And I will go find something we can fan with,' the Elf Queen announces before all three of them get up.
​
The Ogre King yanks open the nearest window. A shower of dusk greets him, making him coughs, before revealing crudely hammered planks woods. He frowns minutely and moves on to the next window. Same thing, boarded up with planks.
Nearby, the Elf Queen searches the sprawling parchments on the ground for something hard enough to fan with. As she touches each parchment, she feels the faint imprint of quill. Curious, she turns them over. She can read fragments, the rest blocked by bad lighting. Still, it is enough to turns her face ashen.
"Dear Doctor, my vision keeps blurring..."
"My dear friend, do...when I drank the..."
"...might be poison...pain..."
"...diary, today...grow scales...black blood...hungry..."
"...soon...soon...deformed...hated...hopeless"
"...Doctor,...my mind...recognize in mirror..."
...
​
Outside, as the dwarf pulls up the bucket of fresh water, he spots something jutting out of the sloshing reflective surface. Feeling dread rolling off his stomach, the dwarf pull faster and faster until the content of the bucket is in full daylight. Only then, does he scream. | 2022-05-04T12:34:49 | 2022-05-04T12:24:15 | 19 | 10 |
[WP]Well, that's a pretty fucked up way to find out you are immortal. | “If everyone can find a chair, it’s time to get started.” The woman tapped the microphone once with a humble smile, watching as the assorted crowd gathered for the anticipated event.
After a moment of silence settled in the room, she spoke again. “I’m happy to welcome so many familiar faces to our 187th annual Immortality conference. As always, we have some newcomers as well. Since we will all be friends for a very long time, let’s start with introductions.”
She waved at a young man standing off to the side, swaying from foot to foot with his hands shoved into his pockets. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he stepped forward and took the mic.
“Uh, hi. I’m Josh.”
“Hi Josh,” came the familiar chorus. His shoulders dropped a little and his smile widened.
“Hi. Uh, Camilla told me to introduce myself to you all. Where I’m from, my favorite color, and whatever I know about my, uh, my immortality.” He nearly choked on the word. Typical newbie.
“So, I’m Josh. Josh Callahan. I grew up in Sandy Shoals, Illinois. Never found the sand or the shoals, though,” he halfway chuckled, then cleared his throat. “Sorry, that’s a townie joke.”
His eyes roved around the room, looking at the odd assortment of people from every age, race, and gender. Wise stares looked back at him. “Yeah, so I like to travel. I really like pizza. And I’m planning to go to college to be an accountant.”
His brows furrowed. “Or I was. God, can you image an eternity as an accountant?”
“I’ve lived it!” called out a voice from somewhere in the back, nasally and sharp. The rest of the room bubbled with polite laughter.
“You all can probably tell this is new to me. I just found out a few weeks ago, and the suits investigating things slipped me a flyer about this event. So here I am.”
Josh looked toward Camilla, who smiled encouragingly. “Your story,” she mouthed, and his head bobbed.
“Right, how I got here. Well, you see, some friends and I have a youtube channel. I’d say you should check it out but I’m pretty sure they had to take it down. But we posted pranks, lifehacks, challenges, urban legends, you name it. Duncan was the mastermind, and so he pitched us an idea.”
Josh was smiling now, as if the memory were happy. But there was something hidden in his eyes that foretold the events to unfold. “So, Duncan came across the immortality spell, he said. Something online that was guaranteed to work. He said we’d try it out, then have the immortal person stand in front of a train. Some editing magic, and it’d look like everything worked.”
There was a collective groan from within the crowd. “I guess you folks know where this is going,” he said with a sigh.
“So, we did it. Duncan had me spend weeks sitting in the moonlight, drinking strange drinks, repeating words backwards in a mirror, and sleeping with crystals around my room. I filmed so many stupid things.”
Chairs creaked as everyone leaned in close to hear about the discovery. The internet meant so many young people were getting their hands on dangerous magic. Swelling attendance to the conference reinforced this point.
“When it came time to film the train thing, Duncan said we should go to the bridge outside of town. Said it’d look more dramatic. Besides, there wasn’t supposed to be a train that day. He said.”
Josh dropped his eyes, looking back up with a brief flash of anger. “I looked it up. Four trains go through there a day. Liar.”
Camilla stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm. He smiled at her, and she nodded for him to continue.
“So, when the train showed up, I was in the middle of the bridge. Unfortunately, none of the spells we worked gave me super speed. I could hear Duncan whooping and hollering the whole time.”
Josh shook his head, eyes refocusing on the audience. “Anyways, you probably don’t need me to tell you what happens when a train hits a body, immortal or not. It wasn’t a pretty sight from the inside, either. But, I was lucky everything grew back. “ Josh stretched out his free hand and splayed his fingers. “Ten fingers and ten toes!”
The audience clapped, and Josh waited for the rumble of applause to subside. “So, when I met Duncan later at the hospital, he was all wide-eyed. I asked him how he knew it had worked. Figured he must have tested me or something before.”
The pained expression on Josh’s face said it well before the words could. “But he didn’t. Just thought it would be good for the views.”
There was a hiss from the audience of shared pain. Too many discovered immortality at the hands of treachery.
“But Camilla says you all can help me figure this out. So I’m looking forward to making some new friends. Real friends,” he added to the end.
Camilla took the microphone with her smile and pleasant voice. “Welcome, Josh. Friends, let’s give him an immortal welcome.”
The room erupted into applause and whistles as those nearest him reached out to pat his back or shake his hand. Josh smiled. It was nice to fit in. | Ofttimes I'd find myself wondering how many years it had been since I first met him. I was out with some friends for a night at Steeples, the only gay bar you'd be able to find in our tiny little shit town back in the seventies. I'd had more than a few, and had sparked a conversation with a stranger - he was tall, with a gorgeous body and a shyness that could be construed as off-putting. He had asked if I'd wanted to go home with him, insisting that he had better booze at home. My gut told me no - there was something in his eyes; some vacant deadness that made me feel as though I was sinking through an infinite abyss towards oblivion when I looked in to them. My friends pushed and pushed me to do it, and I finally agreed. I hope they're doing well these days. I don't hold anything against them.
It wasn't until we got into his house that he introduced himself to me as Jeff. In practically the same breath, he handed me a glass of amber liquid, and I was too stupid to ask questions. He had dissolved enough Valium in the whiskey to knock out God. It wasn't until nearly morning where I woke up in his bed, swaddled in blankets and gently lain to sleep. I had an absolutely crushing headache, and I tried to wiggle free of the blankets to no avail.
"Jeff?" I called out into the night.
He grunted, turned over in the bed, and screamed. He leaped out of bed and grabbed a nearby liquor bottle and repeatedly bashed it against my head. On the second swing, the bottle shattered and sent glass shards flying across the bed. He continued swinging as hard as he could, opening the flesh on my face with the jagged edges of the bottle with increasing depth and frequency. Blood oozed from the wounds on my face, shifting around the remnants of the bottle that had lodged themselves in my cheek, forehead, and nose.
I woke up in the morning feeling pain-free, though disoriented. I tried to reach for my face, but my arms were abruptly cut short before they could reach their target. The clank of rattling metal accompanied a jolt that went throughout my shoulder, as I came-to and continued trying to pull my arms free of the chain-link binds. I was in a corner of the bedroom I had slept in the night before, attached to the wall by stainless steel chain to thick eye bolts that had been drilled into the studs in the wall. There was no breaking free of these no matter how much I struggled.
Jeff walked into the room playing hot potato with a bowl of oatmeal that had just come out of the microwave. He set the bowl on his nightstand while sliding a wooden chair across the floor and ate his breakfast, silently staring at me the entire time.
"Jeff?" I once again asked, although in a tone that you might say was whiny, "what's going on?"
"I killed you," he said, "I suffocated you with that pillow, drilled a hole through your skull, and took a butcher's cleaver to your arms."
I clearly still had arms. They were bound to the walls. I assumed he must be crazy, but I was still on the fence about how dangerous he might truly be.
"Well, buddy, as you can see I'm still fully formed. How about we let bygones be by-" he interrupted me by getting up and walking out of the room. When he came back, he was holding a large Ziploc bag, which he threw at me.
"No. I killed you," he threw the Ziploc bag at me. "I cut these off and browned the rest in a red wine reduction sauce with a bit of olive oil. Right now they're sitting in a Crockpot with a bit of onion, carrot, and potatoes. Seasonings too, of course. Mostly aromatics - cumin, garlic, paprika, nothing too fancy."
I looked at the Ziploc bag and immediately felt the disorientation and nausea from the night before hit me like a Willie Stargell power hit. Those were *my* hands. I looked over at the shackles to confirm - the ring I wore on my right index finger was no longer there, but it was in the bag. I had a scar on my palm from a bike accident when I was a kid that was no longer there, but was plain as day on the dismembered limb in this bag.
Jeff grabbed a roll of translucent shipping tape and walked over towards me. Although I pleaded for him not to do anything more, that I wouldn't go to the police, that I just wanted to go home, none of it mattered. He wrapped my entire head in packing tape, leaving no room for air to get in or out. I saw him walk out the front door and heard the lock turn before everything went black.
The world didn't come flooding back until some indiscernible amount of time later, when he unceremoniously ripped the tape from my head. He told me how excited he was at what I might be and how I was everything he had been looking for. He showed me the skulls from his previous attempts, Polaroids of the acts he had committed on them, and the trophies he had kept of his favorites. I could not help crying; whether out of pain, confusion, or agony, I couldn't be sure.
He told me he had spent years looking for his personal love zombie. Someone he could cherish and hold and have them be forever his, forever under his full control. I was that person: I could go nowhere, do nothing, say nothing, as I could always come back to him no matter what act was performed on me. The last bit set the stage for the next decade or two of my life. The first night he came back from work, he had told me about an idea he had.
He took me out to his garage - the first time I'd seen the outside in nearly 24 hours. I was deep in the woods, in some podunk Appalachian backwater where the idea of neighbors was nearly as foreign as the concept of multivariable calculus. He kept me chained up, always disciplined in his actions to never allow me personal agency for even a second. He strapped me to a table and used a bandsaw to cut through my abdomen. I screamed as the heat of the saw made contact with the fat and threw the scent of bacon into the air. Next had been my colon, a decidedly less pleasant odor. Finally it was my small intestines, the saw shredding through them and sending blood and viscera flying across the dank garage. On Jeff's face, I swear I could see a smile mixed in with the determination he had for the task at hand.
The next morning, I woke up in absolute darkness. I was cramped - stuffed into a box too small for me as if I were a contortionist. I started to scream, but flaked bits of dust kept entering my mouth as I hyperventilated and jostled the floor of my confines. Finally, light found it's way in as Jeff opened the door of my prison. Outside was the kitchen, with Jeff's chair sitting at the dirty kitchen table. He was picking at a meal that I could hardly see, but he was still chewing.
"Want some?", he asked. | 2022-05-05T08:39:25 | 2022-05-05T08:03:55 | 194 | 29 |
[WP] Humanity discovers the reason aliens always seem to try and invade the United States. It turns out that the five pointed star is a symbol of unspeakable evil in galactic society. And the United States proudly displays fifty of them.
Credits to u/Hyranic | “What the hell is this?” growled the President of the United States, obviously annoyed at being woken up at this ungodly hour just to read a report.
“Sir, at 2352hrs Eastern Standard time, USAF intercepted and brought down an unidentified object over Dawson Springs, Kentucky,” answered the military general, his myriad of medals and ribbons adorning his immaculate uniform reflecting in the dim lighting of the President’s kitchen where the group had gathered. “Elements from Fort Campbell including the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment secured the crash site and attempted to ascertain the identity of the intruders.”
“And?” asked the President, sitting down at the dining table with a cup of freshly brewed coffee. “Who was it? The Russians? The Chinese? North Koreans?”
The general gulped and looked around at the other military advisers and aides in the room, all of whom shuffled uneasily on their feet and avoided eye contact.
“What the hell,” whispered the President under his breath, noticing the reactions to his entourage. “What’s going on here? This some sort of joke?”
“Not a joke sir unfortunately,” stated the CIA director from a darkened corner of the room as all eyes turned to him, his bespectacled face dimly lighted by the light of the cigarette he was smoking. “Everything’s on the report.”
The President stared incredulously at the man, then back at the report. With his reading glasses propped up low on his nose, he sighed loudly and started silently scanning the pages of the hastily prepared report in front of him.
**REPORT ON DAWSON SPRINGS INCIDENT**
*AT 2352HRS ET, 07/27/2022, UNIDENTIFIED FLYING OBJECT SPOTTED ON RADAR OVER KENTUCKY. JETS SCRAMBLED FOR INTERCEPT. REPEATED ATTEMPTS TO HAIL IGNORED.*
The President eyed the blurry photo clipped to the side of the page: A small saucer shaped vehicle flying through the air. He shifted uneasily in his seat and continued reading.
*ORDER GIVEN TO BRING DOWN UNIDENTIFIED FLYING OBJECT AT 0003HRS ET, 07/28/2022. JETS FIRED AT 0004HRS ET AND BROUGHT DOWN UNIDENTIFIED FLYING OBJECT NEAR DAWSON SPRINGS, KENTUCKY. NEAREST ARMY ELEMENTS ON STANDBY ARRIVED AT CRASH SITE AT 0029HRS ET. CRASH SITE SECURED. IDENTIFIED 4 CASUALTIES AMONG CRASH. 3 DEAD 1 WOUNDED. UNIDENTIFIED FLYING OBJECT AND OCCUPANTS BROUGHT TO NEARBY CIA BLACKSITE.*
The President took a sip of his coffee.
*CRASH MATERIALS ARRIVED AT BLACKSITE AT 0237HRS ET. PRELIMINARY FINDINGS INDICATE UNIDENTIFIED FLYING OBJECT AND OCCUPANTS NOT NATIVE TO EARTH.*
The President nearly spat out his coffee. He read and reread the line again, refusing to believe that that was what the report said.
*INTERROGATION OF WOUNDED UNIDENTIFIED EXTRATERRESTRIAL BEING CONDUCTED BY CIA AT 0352HRS. INTERROGATION CONCLUDED AT 0423HRS. DUE TO LANGUAGE BARRIER, SOME WORDS MAY BE LOOSELY TRANSLATED. KEY POINTS ASCERTAINED ARE AS FOLLOWS:*
*1. EXTRATERRESTRIAL BEING IS KNOWN AS A MA’SLYUM (NAME OF SPECIFIC ENTITY OR NAME OF SPECIES? UNKNOWN.) FROM INTERGALACTIC(?) ALLIANCE KNOWN AS THE KIKOMIRA.*
*2. PURPOSE OF VISIT WAS RECONNOITER OF EARTH. SPEAKS BASIC ENGLISH BECAUSE HAVE BEEN STUDYING EARTH CULTURE FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS. CLAIMED CRASH WAS BECAUSE OF EQUIPMENT FAILURE PREVENTING ESCAPE FROM EARTH ATMOSPHERE.*
*3. HEART RATE ELEVATED THROUGHOUT INTERROGATION AT ALMOST INHUMAN LEVELS. OBSERVATIONS OF BODY LANGUAGE INDICATE SUBJECT IS TERRIFIED. SUGGEST CUTTING SHORT INTERROGATION.*
*4. ASKED SUBJECT ABOUT INTENTIONS FOR EARTH. SUBJECT REVEALED INTERGALACTIC ALLIANCE FORMED SOLELY TO CONTAIN HUMANITY. WORDS TRANSLATED INCLUDE CONTAINMENT, INTERGALACTIC THREAT AND PROTECTION OF UNIVERSE. REFERENCE TO HUMANS ALMOST BIBLICAL IN NATURE.*
*5. NAME FOR HUMANS LOOSELY TRANSLATED TO SUNEATER. SUBJECT REFERRED TO FLAG OF UNITED STATES. CLAIMED EACH STAR REPRESENTED ONE SUN CONSUMED. CLAIMED THEIR SPECIES DISCOVERED MESSAGE AMONG THE STARS CLAIMING LONG DEAD AND ADVANCED INTERGALACTIC CIVILISATION HAD MANAGED TO BEAT BACK SUNEATERS AND CONTAIN THEM ON EARTH AFTER COSTLY WAR THAT DESTROYED ENTIRE STAR SYSTEMS AND LEFT TRILLIONS DEAD. USE OF UNKNOWN SUPERWEAPON MANAGED TO MINDWIPE AND DEVOLVE SUNEATER SPECIES TO BASE FORM. MESSAGE WARNED FUTURE CIVILISATIONS TO CONTINUE MONITORING AND CONTAINMENT OF SUNEATER THREAT AS SUNEATERS VIRTUALLY UNKILLABLE IN PRIME FORM AND SUPERWEAPON EFFECTS WILL WEAR OFF OVER TIME.*
*6. SUBJECT ASKED WHETHER THE KIKOMORA IS PLANNING ATTACK. SUBJECT CLAIMED LONG DEAD CIVILISATION RECOMMENDED NOT TO ENGAGE SUNEATER THREAT. CLAIMS THAT ONCE ENGAGED, SUNEATERS WILL REVERT TO THEIR PRIME FORMS AND END THE UNIVERSE AS THEY KNOW IT. CURRENT DOCTRINE INDICATES APPEASEMENT AND WORSHIP OF SUNEATERS RECOMMENDED ONCE SUNEATERS REVERT TO PRIME FORM.*
*IT IS THE ADVICE OF THIS RESEARCHER THAT IF TRUE, RECOMMEND IMMEDIATE CONVENING OF THE UNITED NATIONS AND FURTHER STUDY OF OURSELVES AS A SPECIES IS WARRANTED.* | `[GALACTIC COMMUNIQUE] [DO NOT IGNORE] In accordance with Galactic Charter Fi-Contega we are extending an offer of acceptance to your fledgling species. After reviewing your achievements, we desire to include you into the "Milky Way" co-operation group. Please send a representative from graphical region "ESTADOS UNIDOS" that bears the authority to enter a diplomatic treaty on behalf of "The Earth".`
I swear everything about it felt like a SPAM message. All our details were slightly off, and felt crammed in like a bad game of ad-libs; Lying without context in some out-world joke. If the media didn't swoop on it the way it had, I wouldn't have even given it a second thought. But it was odd, the point that the pundits kept sharp, thrusting into the community at every chance. The unavoidable, almost damning point that every person on the planet received that message in an email, text message, and in-app pop up at the exact same moment *globally....* Yeah, that point, as odd as anything we've seen, didn't really shock me the way it seemed to shock others.
I, along with a group on the internet, had figured it all out. There were state actors meaning to spread panic, wanting us to feel like *they* were the ones to protect us, like *they* deserve the tax dollars for getting us all wrapped up into another big lie. How terribly, disgustingly fucking wrong we were.
See, we were all trolls then. Like the jackasses before us, we were joking %100 percent of the time and lived to get a rise out of people who were living their lives too seriously. That's why I still don't understand.... I mean... Why me? There's no way that I was the first to reply... But that's exactly what I did. The text I deleted, but I still had a copy of it when it hit one of my alt accounts. I tried my best "galactic communique" speak and nominated myself for the offworld adventure.
`[CHARTER RESPONSE] [OPEN IMMEDIATELY] It is with great authority and humility to your awesome power that I contemplate acceptance to the "Milky Way" co-operation group. I will command our beings to produce a vessel to bring me to the council. Please send schematics for inter-stellar travel at your soonest convenience, so we may leverage this understanding to bring our union about more hastily. Love, Captain Duggie.`
I thought I was sooooo funny. DON'T THESE PEOPLE CHECK REFERENCES?!?
​
No sooner had I hit send than I found myself standing in the stars. I was well dressed, neatly shaven, hell, I looked like *The Great Gastby*. Standing on a glass floor with stars below, stars above, and only a robotic belhop at a mahogany desk push the magnificent beauty into the background.
'Welcome Sir Duggie! Can I get you anything before we begin?"
Surely I'm dreaming. Or tripping? Maybe I've hit my head? Better to go with it, I decide.
"Yes a Red Stripe please." I don't know why I expected confusion, because a moment later a bottle that may have been straight out of a Jamaican ice chest was produced by the belhop. I took a sip and smiled. "Aren't you going to take my bags?"
"Very funny sir! Please step this way, the committee would like to meet you."
*That's* when things started to get weird.
See, I was pretty sure I was hallucinating at this point, so my behavior is that of someone who just discovered they were dreaming and begins to go Lucid. They do things they would never and I mean *never* do in real life, like slap the pope or jump off a bridge to practice flying. That should, hopefully, explain some of the terribly awful things I did in my next few moments.
​
I step through a curtain and in an instant I'm in *the* galactic congress room from Star Wars. I looked around for the usual Jedi faces, but all I saw were other humans. Some wore strange paint and some had stretched ear-lobes, but nothing I hadn't seen on Earth. I chuckled, sipped my beer and tapped loudly on a little microphone protruding from the pod I found myself standing in.
Stooping over it like I was dedicating a Karaoke ballad to my new fiancé, I said "Where's Jabba?" and looked widely around the impressive chamber. I laughed wretchedly at the silence, spilling about half of the Red Stripe (the half I hadn't drunk) over the edge of my pod. A member took the silence from me, before I completely hung myself with it, but his words were like nothing I would have dreamt, which still chills me to my spine.
"Silence!" His command rang through the hollow, seemingly infinite chamber and left behind exactly what he decreed. I suddenly felt very awake, but not quite convinced this isn't a joke. "You bear the mark of Pal-tir and it is clear among all civilized galactic societies that this mark seals within it the *spirit* of Pal-tir that you have so blatantly demonstrated since your arrival. Do you deny this fact?"
After a moment of deliberation, I determined my best response would feign ignorance.
"Uhhhhh..... What?" Still clutching my empty beer bottle I felt it get cold and heavy once more in my hands. Suddenly, over the part I lovingly call "Ye' Olde Mouth-Hole" I saw the symbol of Pal-tir burning hot white. It was a star! *These space-freaks hate our star?* I thought to myself before the plasma-heat of the star flooded the glass, and on into my hand. I dropped the bottle where I stood, and it shattered into the floor of the pod. I was now standing naked, barefooted among the bottle shards daring not to move. I still felt no shame, much as one does in a dream.
"You have seen with your own eyes our power. If you want our attacks on Earth to cease, you must remove the symbol of Pal-tir from your seals of leadership. Do you understand?" shouted a different member.
"You were attacking us? I didn't even notice." This sent the room into a Fury. The hologram that made them appear human began to crack around its edges, showing an encyclopedia of monsters mid-tantrum. It reminded me of the way some kids (and adults) on Earth acted when they were told no. It was actually pretty disgusting, which is probably why I said what I did.
"Alright listen here. That "Pap-tean" thing you guys are all puckered over is something we call a 'star' and HERE IN AMERICA it means FREEDOM! Today you want us to change the little pointy thing you don't like, Then what? No more Red Stripe? You gonna tell us we can't shoot off fireworks? Listen. You do you and leave us the fuck alone, how 'bout it?"
​
In the next instant, I found myself waking up in bed in the White House next to the First Lady and a note scribbled on a bar napkin that read "Dear Captain Duggie, We're Through Asking Nicely..." That's how it all happened. I swear! | 2022-07-26T12:15:32 | 2022-07-26T10:41:19 | 439 | 138 |
[WP] You're a supervillain, and you have never been so utterly beaten. All of your tricks, all of your weapons, completely outdone by a prepubescent girl and a stuffed animal. You're bracing for the finishing blow when she bops you over the head with her wand. "Don't do any more bad stuff! ...Okay?" | "...what?" I sat waiting for the killing blow. The Gale Princess had beaten... Let's be honest, she kicked my ass. Experience should have trumped everything, but she just had too much raw power.
And she knew how to use it.
The little teddy bear accompanying her jumped up on her shoulder. "We believe in giving people a second chance! You have been defeated, but that doesn't mean you can't turn your life around."
She smiled and nodded, naively at that. "Yup! Think of the power and skill you have. You could do so much good with them. Make the world a better place!"
I wanted to laugh at her considering that how this started to begin with. "Really? And what makes you think I'd just turn over a new leaf?"
Eerily, everything seemed to go quiet. She looked at me with that same smile. It was just now I noticed she hadn't blinked all this time. "Because, I've beaten you once, and I can beat you again. I don't like fighting if I don't need to. You have a chance to walk a different path."
It wasn't quiet, the air had stopped moving. She was called the Gale Princess for her mastery over air. Her trademark move was the Zephyr Blade that could cut cleanly through stone and steel. But she could control air in many other ways. This allowed her flight, shielding, and even fire suppression.
By removing the air from the area.
This is when I noticed I was having trouble breathing. She walked slowly towards me. "Because if I have to come back to set you straight, mister, I won't be happy." That same smile, eyes unblinking. I felt my body drowning from a lack of oxygen. She got up in my face. "And you won't get a third chance."
I could suddenly breath again. I recovered to look as she was walking away. "Let's go, Big T! I feel like having some ice cream before we get home!"
Big T just laughed at her, "No way! You gotta save room for your mom's lasagna!"
"Ooh, lasagna! My favorite! I forgot she was making that tonight! Let's hurry!" And she flew off.
I lay there, enjoying the air I was breathing, because I knew at any moment, she could take it away.
And they call me the villain. | "What?" I growled as the indignation of having everything I had worked for ground to dust grew exponentially with every second I saw that naïve look of childish ignorance.
"You shouldn't do things that hurt others. That is not nice behavior," she said, twirling her wand that glowed like a prism in her hand.
That was it. I was ready to kill a child. But, there was nothing I could do about it. I had strained myself beyond my limits just to try and keep up with her. Everything ached. Everything was blurred.
"You don't get it." I whispered, struggling to lift my head to meet her eyes, "You can't...you couldn't understand. Not at all. What it's like to be born as someone like me. People in my position aren't given a lot of choices. We can't all can't keep our hands clean in the hopes of a better life."
"My teacher says everyone has excuses when they do something bad. But 'excuses don't solve problems!' Do you remember that, Vinny?"
A small fluffy dog with button eyes, a rainbow coat, and stiches on its wagging tail barked and ran in circles around the girl. Its vibrant colors were like knives in my eyes. But her words cut deeper than any enchanted sword.
"And what else was I supposed to do!"
The girl and the dog jumped at my outburst, but it was all I could manage before I fell down and barely caught myself on my hands.
"And what can I do now? There's nothing left for me to go back to. It's all gone. You made sure of that," I said, putting every ounce of venom left in me into those final words.
"I don't how I can help you," she said, putting her pointer fingers together and keeping her eyes to the ground, "My teacher said that there's people that are coming here that are going to take you somewhere where they can help you and keep you from hurting others. 'Let the adults take care of it' she said. I don't know a lot about things like this. A bunch of people told me I should have...destroyed you, and that you deserve to have a lot of bad things happen to you. But, I didn't want to do that. I was scared and I-I..."
Tears started to stream down her face, and her dog leaped up on her to lick them away. As quick as it started, she stopped crying and chuckled as the dog's fluffy tongue tickled her cheek.
Destroy me. I guess that is what I deserved, and more. All this time, the person I lied to the most was myself. There was always excuses. Always reasons for doing some of the most atrocious things imaginable. How else could I go to sleep at night and maintain my sanity? The empire I had built was destined to fall. All it took was for a little girl to break through the lies and it all came crashing down.
A group of other mages came running towards us. Hopefully it was those people that she was talking about and not one of my dozens of enemies come to finish the job. Either way, I knew I had to say something before I was gone to wherever fate had been allotted to this poor sinner.
"Thank you. I promise..." The naivety in her face was replaced by a look of innocence, kindness, and hope for a brighter tomorrow, "to not do any more bad stuff. But you have to promise something too."
"What is it?" she said.
"Promise to make the world a kinder place...so that I'm the last person you ever have to fight and you and everybody else can go on to live the good lives you all deserve, and so people like me never have to show up again." | 2022-11-21T17:04:46 | 2022-11-21T14:58:12 | 352 | 88 |
[WP] A bard managed to seduce a dragon and they had an adorable child. Now, as the child has grown up and is entering college, you pay a wisit to your ex to discuss paying tuition fees. | "Well, it's a reputable school, that's for sure. I think between the two of us, we can manage it." The dragon handed (clawed?) the scroll back to the bard.
He put it in his pouch. "I can handle the tuition, but the other expenses are the issue. Books, lodging, food, all sorts of extra expenses. If you manage those, I think she'll be set."
"Oh? I thought tuition was the expensive part."
"Normally, but after that archeological find my friends and I stumbled upon, they're willing to give me a break as thanks."
"'Stumbled upon?' Ha! You mean you evicted that lich-worshipping cult!"
"Heard about that, eh? Po-tay-to- po-tah-to."
The dragon chuckled before growing somber. "Darren, What happened to us?"
"Vro'gantia," he said using a true dragon's voice. It always flustered her when he did that. "We tried. We love each other, we love our daughter, but staying together was never in the stars for us."
"I miss you. I would come with you if not for my hoard."
"I know, and any kingdom that saw you would be quick to slay you first regardless, spells or not. My journey isn't done yet."
"And when it is done? Will the next start?"
"I... don't know. The oracle did not see beyond us entering The Abyss. We don't even know if we'll return." He had tears in his eyes. "I may not even--"
She grabbed him in a claw and hugged him best she could without crushing him. "You will come back. You will get to see our daughter graduate. I'd stake my hoard on it."
He smiled a bit. "Well, a dragon willing to stake their hoard? Then it must be a sure thing!"
"As sure as when I said yes to that dance in the tavern all those years ago." | The townspeople were screaming in panic and running everywhere while the alarm bells were ringing, calling the city guard. I paid them no mind, knowing that they couldn't do more than tickle my armored scales, while I flew slowly overhead searching for my target.
There! Standing in front of what appeared to be an inn with his jaw hanging open, was the one I had been seeking. Landing as gently as I could on the building across the street, I looked down on him with a piercing gaze.
"Y-you," he stuttered, but I cut him off.
"Do you have any idea how hard it's been tracking you down?" i growled. You have a lot of nerve running off like that, leaving me to raise out daughter all by myself! What do you have to say for yourself?"
"D-daughter?" he said incredulously, sweat forming on his brow. "I had no idea!"
"Of course not, you jerk!" I took a moment to calm down before I continued. I sometimes spit fire when I got mad, and that would NOT do right now. "You left before I even knew I was pregnant. But that doesn't matter anymore, now that I've found you. She's going to college in the fall, and I expect you to pay for it."
"Me? Pay for her college? But -"
"No buts, unless you want me to come after you for back child support. I raised her for 18 years as a dragon, but now she want's to go to human college. And who amy I to deny my daughter an education? So now it's your turn," I stated matter-of-factually.
"In case you didn't notice, I'm a poor bard and you're, you know, a dragon," he said, waving his hands. "Don't you have more than enough gold to pay for it?"
"It's called a hoard, *human*," emphasizing that last word. "We dragons **hoard** gold, we don't just spend it all. Besides, you're not poor, I know you've got your own little nest egg hidden away, so to speak."
"How did you?" he asked, surprised his secret had been revealed.
"Oh, you know," I replied with a grin, "people are more than happy to tell the big nasty dragon whatever they want to know in exchange for not being eaten. Not that I would have really done so, most of them would have given me indigestion. But I digress. Here." I flicked one talon at him, and sent a scroll case falling to the ground in front of him. "That has all the details. I expect our daughter to arrive at school to find that everything is paid for or I **will** be back to collect it in person."
I spread my wings and made to take off, and then paused to look at him one more time. "Oh, and if you want to meet your daughter, just leave a note for her with how to contact you at the school. It's up to her if she wants to or not, but i doubt she'll put the same effort into finding you that I did. And try to remember that she's half dragon, with a temper to match. Have a nice day, you know where to find me if you really want to." And with that, I took off, quickly gaining altitude before turning for home. | 2022-12-01T09:54:19 | 2022-12-01T09:14:54 | 620 | 189 |
[WP] A little boy becomes a man, from the perspective of his assigned NSA agent
Could either be over a long period of time, or a single pivotal event... | January 11th, 1997, 17:56 - *Search*: "How to tell if a girl likes you"
January 11th, 2008, 14:35 - *Search*: Ideas for a first date
January 11th, 2016, 12:25 - *Search*: How to choose an engagement ring
January 11th, 2020, 10:43 - *Search*: Divorce lawyers
January 11th, 2025, 13:46 - *Search*: Headache, pain in groin, fever
January 13th, 2025, 17:52 - *Search*: Liver cancer survival rates
January 14th, 2025, 16:42 - *Search*: How to write a will
January 15th, 2025, 19:43 - *Search*: Countries with assisted suicide
January 15th, 2025, 19:50 - *Search*: Tickets to Switzerland
**End of user history**
Ninja edit: I haven't written something quite like this before, so feedback would be appreciated! | "You ready?" whispered Tommy with a grin. "Yea...Yea I'm ready." Vivian whispered anxiously, "I'm just nervous that's all. It's my first time and all." "Yea, it's my first time too, but don't worry you'll be fine. We'll both be!" said Tommy sanguinely. "Okay, let's do this." smiled back Vivian with a wink. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here..." began the priest in a monotone voice. Today was Tommy and Vivian's wedding day. They were "hopeless romantics" as their friends liked to say; they fell for each other freshmen year of college and after three years in a relationship, decided to get married. Their parents believed they were too young, too naive but decided to trust them basing their judgment on some unconditional love bullcrap.
They were in a small, quaint church, surrounded by their closest friends, family, coworkers, role models, etc. "Today was their big day or should I say it was for a big day for Tommy and I." chuckled Alex with a grin. Alex, a NSA agent, smoked a cigar in the surveillance room. "Hey Jared? You watching the wedding unfold, buddy?" shouted Alex. "Yea, can't believe, my girl Vivian's all grow up." replied Jared from another room. "Well, you better stop it, ya sleazy bastard!" cackled Alex shortly followed by a loud cough. "Same goes for you, ya pedo!" replied Jared with an ecstatic shout. Alex and Jared were assigned to look after Tommy and Vivian respectively ever since the two lovebirds were born. Tommy and Vivian were the kids of distinguished ambassadors; therefore, the United States government wanted them closely monitored.
"I'm tearing up, Jared. Ain't love a beautiful sight? The feeling of euphoria that's created is simply indescribable." said Alex, with his head turned to Jared with a choked up voice. "Ay, don't get all poetic on me ya bastard." shouted Jared with a laugh, "Wells, how about, after the wedding we take the day off. I mean, it's not like the boss is gonna find out or anything." "Alright, sounds good." replied Alex. Alex stared at the monitor once more and simply smiled at the sight he was witnessing. "I do." said Tommy and Vivian in unison. "You may kiss the bride." said the priest. They kissed and shouts and cheers echoed from the grainy monitor. "Attaboy, Tommy." whispered Alex with a grin. | 2014-06-10T06:43:29 | 2014-06-10T04:47:28 | 33 | 10 |
[WP] Airport authorities don’t recognize your passport because the country that issued it doesn’t exist. You are confused. You’re thinking: “What? I was born there! I’ve lived there all my life!”
Edit after 4 hours: I'd like to add that this writing prompt was inspired from this: http://www.reddit.com/r/UnresolvedMysteries/comments/1zsyz2/on_july_1954_a_man_arrives_at_tokyo_airport_in/ | “What do you mean?!” The man exclamed, hysterical.
“It doesn’t exist, sir.” I said, sighing. I had had to put up with a lot of clueless travelers throughout the years, but ever since the ‘big opening’ was a fact following the inevitable collapse, their ranks were swelling.
“Are you telling me that my whole life has been a lie?! Tell it in my face, lying bastard!” He yelled, balling his fists.
He and his baggage were holding up quite a line. It would be a busy day indeed.
“Shall I call security?” my partner asked, unable to mask a small smile.
I shook my head. “Listen dude, I don’t know what they’ve told you there, but it surely wasn’t the truth. The place doesn’t exist.”
“But why did I pass the gates then, hmm?” he said. “My passport is legit!”
“I never said that your passport wasn’t legit, just that your country of birth doesn’t exist.” I tried to explain it to him. But deep in my heart, I knew it was futile. They would never understand. Their government had indoctrinated them for far too long.
“It’s just that there’s no such place as Best Korea.”
| “Golzania is a country! It should be right there on the map! Right there!” I point on the police officer’s map before continuing, “It’s an island below South Africa and it should be right there!”
“Sir, uh, we’ve never really dealt with such a problem before but you’re going to have to stay in this room until we get this sorted out. I’m really sorry. Would you like some coffee?”
“I never drink coffee outside my home country! If the coffee isn’t Golzanian, then it isn’t real coffee at all!”
“Yeah… okay. Well I’ll get you some water regardless.”
I sit there alone in the room and wonder what the hell kind of prank this is. It’s April 5th and I’m wondering if some asshole has arranged a delayed, elaborate April Fool’s prank. I travel for business regularly and this has never happened before. Soon that police officer returns to the room along with some bald guy in a suit. Fuck them both.
The bald guy speaks, “Sir we can’t allow you to leave Canada until this Golzania issue is resolved.”
“What do you mean I can’t go back home? I don’t want to stay in Canada any longer than I have to! My wedding anniversary is in two days and I need to go back home now!”
“We’re going to have to ask you a few more questions first.” Says the bald guy.
“Actually several more questions.” Says the police officer.
“No more questions! I was born in Golzania in 1965 and–”
“1965?” asks the police officer. “So you’re 100 years old?”
“No I am 35 years old! Do I look like I’m 100? Can you Canadians not do simple math! It’s the year 2000 and I was born in 1965. Therefore I am 35 years old!”
“It’s the year 2065.” Says the bald fucking guy and shows me a newspaper.
“What the hell is going on here? It’s 2000! Not 2065! I am a Golzanian and I am going through a grave injustice! I was born in Golzania! I learned how to read and write in Golzania! I rode my first bike in Golzania! I graduated from Golzania University with a Bachelor’s in Golzanian History! I fell in love at first sight with a strong Golzanian woman who is now my wife! I started my first business in Golzania and when I go back home I will never travel for business again!”
The bald guy and the police officer stare at me. Then they look at each other. Then the police officer speaks, “Sorry but you’re crazy.”
My head explodes. | 2014-11-23T09:29:43 | 2014-11-23T09:29:04 | 821 | 23 |
[WP] You hire a witch doctor to curse someone. However, the only curses you can afford are extremely petty. | "So, let me get this straight," Steve blinked. "For ten dollars, you'll make it so that whenever he looks for something, it'll be in the last place he'll look?"
The witch doctor nodded, revealing his yellowed teeth in a wide, Joker-esque grin. "Yes, that's right."
"So, like... if he lost his car keys, they'd be-"
"Yes, yes. The money now, please."
As he received the money, the witch doctor could only grin. He'd been at this for twenty years - and this was his only curse. Of course one would only find something in the last place they looked - why would they keep looking once they'd already found it? | "A friend of a friend told me you could help me," I said, nervously.
"Well, have a seat, what can I do for you?" the man replied.
"Um... I caught my wife cheating on me. I want her... dealt with."
"Can you be more specific, sir?"
"Dead. I've got five thousand dollars."
The man leaned back in his chair, "you clearly got some bad information from your contact, I am not a witch doctor, I'm a witch physician. And I don't kill anyone, at least not for the amount of cash you have," he said disapprovingly.
"Oh," I said in a panic, crawling out of the chair.
"Wait, I'm sorry if I put you off," the man said reassuringly, "sit down and we can discuss this." I did so reluctantly.
"Like I said, I don't kill anyone that cheaply. But that doesn't mean we can't figure out something. How about pattern baldness?"
"What?"
"Yeah, I could recede her hairline. Hell for an extra fee I'll give her the Patrick Stewart!" he finished with a chuckle.
"That's... not really what I'm looking for."
"Skin tabs?"
"Skin tabs?" I replied.
"Yeah they're annoying as hell. I could even put one right on her beltline, if you want."
"I don't think that's as bad as what she did to me."
"I could give her herpes," the man said.
"Wow, that's... creepy. Besides she probably already has it now, serves her right."
"You never can be too sure about herpes, sir. I could add in a rash, if you need it to have more effect."
"That's okay," I said as I got up, "I'm gonna go explore my options."
"Fair enough, just remember I have the lowest prices in town, my competition wouldn't do more than bad breath and a leg cramp, for what you can pay."
I walked out of the building, dejected. If I wanted to hire someone that petty, I could have just looked on craigslist and saved some gas. | 2014-12-13T14:17:47 | 2014-12-13T12:41:57 | 89 | 11 |
[WP] You hire a witch doctor to curse someone. However, the only curses you can afford are extremely petty. | Witch doctor, Witch doctor
I've got a request
i've read the reviews
they said you're the best
***
Witch doctor, Witch doctor
i'm short on cash
but i still need to make
a good backstab
***
Damn, Freddy
it was ugly
what ya did to me
truly
***
i swear
i'd have you 86'd
if i had the money (ha!)
***
but Witch doctor
if all you can do
is give him the flu
make him blue
cut his hair
make stoplight's unfair
wrinkle his sweater
clothes don't fit better
trip and fall
do it all
***
set his alarm 20 minutes late
make him nauseas when he already ate
***
make every line wait increase by 2
every grate he passes, make his money fall through
***
when he speeds, there's a cop on the street
double the fine when he starts to plead
***
every time he starts to doze off
his boss happens to walk in on
***
Witch doctor, Witch doctor
make it so
it's all i can afford
and he'll never know! | "Well, I can make it so every pair of socks she owns has a narrow heel."
"...a narrow heel? I don't...what will that do?"
"Well some people experience an occasional discomfort for the first few moments after they put on a sock with a heel that is too narrow for her foot, though the discomfort quickly cedes. It helps if she has a wide heel. Does she have a wide heel?"
"I have no idea... Why would I know that?"
"Well it seems to me if I'm going to pay to curse someone I would get the details of their physique first, but that's ok, I can see you're not impressed."
"Yeah, definitely not impressed, do you have anything a little more... I don't know, substantial?"
"Substantial you say, well let's see, I can make it so that every glass of milk she drinks for the rest of her life will taste like it came out of a carton that had been opened for two or three days already, no matter how fresh the milk is!"
"What are you talking about? That's a horrible curse!"
"Well I don't know, I mean I for one greatly enjoy the taste of fresh milk, having only slightly older tasting milk to drink for the rest of my life would be mildly disappointing."
"But she's lactose intolerant, it's not like she even drinks milk that often."
"Well I know she's lactose intolerant, unlike you I do research on people when determining if and how I'm going to curse them, I don't just make an appointment and show up with $300 expecting miracles. I mean come on, if she wasn't lactose intolerant do you really think I would even offer this to you at that price? You know how much I would charge to curse all the milk a non-lactose intolerant person was ever going to drink? 18 grand, that's how much. You should be grateful I even offered."
"I'm sorry, it just didn't seem like much of a cur-"
"Yeah, yeah, you're sorry, whatever."
"Tell you what, I get paid next week, I can give you the $300 I have with me today then another $300 after I cash my check. If I do that what can you give me?"
"Hmm...I can make it so every pair of pantyhose she ever wears will get a small run in them, but only at the top where hardly anyone, herself included, will ever see."
"...Is there at least a chance of the run spreading down the rest of her leg?"
"No."
*sigh* "I'll take it." | 2014-12-13T13:01:48 | 2014-12-13T12:37:41 | 23 | 11 |
[WP] On the day you turn 18 everyone is given the first words that their soulmate will speak to them. When you receive yours it says simply "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?" | My name is Brian Kinner, and today is my eighteenth birthday. I have been dreading this day since I was first told about what will happen. In 2036 time travel started to become a thing of truth for the people of earth. It was a practice that only the rich had the luxury to afford, but after a couple of months the american government took away the ability even from the rich. Person after person tried to alter their past, prevent a war, save a loved ones life, deeds that they thought would only benefit society. Luckily the government limited the capabilities of the machines that were released; people were only witnessing the events in the future or past as if they were there but in reality they were shielded from the view of the people of that time period. You were only allowed to be a spectator. After the government took back these machines, the people started to get violent, the rich, the middle class, and even the poor who would most likely never even get to use one of these machines, all rioted.
So the government annouced a compromise that they felt would put the people at ease. Every person who used the machines all at one point used them to find out about their future, but most importantly, they were looking for who they were sopposed to be with. They were looking for their soulmates. Once the government made this connection they promised that on everyones eighteenth birthday you will be told the first sentence that your soulmate will say to you. They wouldn't tell you when it would happen or if it already happened, just the first sentence that they would say to you.
I know what you are thinking.
"Why would you dread this information? Wouldn't you want to know that so when you met your soulmate so you can just start being with her?"
I dread this information mainly because I already have an amazing girlfriend whom I love with all my heart. This information can take her away from me. Shatter the glass so to speak. She is a couple of months younger than me, so she hasn't gotten her sentence yet. She remembers the first sentences that we said to eachother, she kept them written down on the piece of paper I gave her with my number on it. And because I am older and don't remember our first sentences. She thought it would be a cute idea to tell me our sentences after I got mine told to me today at noon. It's 11:30 now.
I slowly get out of bed and stretch. I look at my phone again hoping that I misread the time, it's 11:31. I go to my closet and slip a shirt on and walk down stairs. My mom is at the kitchen table with my dad and my little brother. They are all talking around a stack of gifts and a card with my name on it. So far just like every other birthday. I take a deep breath and breathe out.
"Morning, they call yet? Are they on thier way?" I say with as little expression as possible.
My parents know how I feel about this day and so does my brother. My dad was twenty-two and my mom was twenty-one when they met so they both already knew there sentences. It's customary now to get your sentence tattoed on your body, normally on a spot that that is always covered by clothing. For a while people were lying when they first met someone and would say thet they just said their sentence, and sometimes in shock the other would forget theirs. Needless to say people got taken advantage of.
"Morning darling, and yes they are on their way and will be here a little before noon. I know how you feel about this day but its still your birthday. Regardless of what the sentence is, whose to say that it's set in stone. Maybe time can be rewritten. But in the mean time do you want to open your gifts now or later?". My mom got up and gave me a hug. "Happy birthday Brian, i love you." She whispered into my ear.
"I think I'll wait, that way if its bad news I'll use them as a pick me up." I gave her a kiss on her forehead. "I love you too."
I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down with my family. I take out my phone from my pocket and tell my girlfriend I will call her right after I get my sentence. It's 11:50.
A couple minutes later there is a knock on our door. We all start to get up from the table.
"Guys, I will do this on my own." My family sits back down and I proceed to walk to the door. This time the doorbell rang. I opened the door and there they were, two men in black suits with an american flag on their lapel.
"Brian?" One of the men said with a smile on his face.
"Yes sir." I choke out, my throat is dry my hands are starting to get sweaty.
"Are you ready for your sentence?" The other man said but this man did not smile had no inflection in his voice. They both stood like statues, one of them had a breifcase the other had his hands in his pockets.
"Do I really have a choice?" I say looking at the more friendly man hoping for a little sympathy.
"No. Your sentence is 'Welcome to starbucks, can I take your order?' Happy birthday son." They both turned and walked into their black car and were out of sight within minutes.
I take a step back and sit on the first step of my staircase. She never worked at a starbucks. "It's not her." My voice is shaky. My heart feels like it just got punched and then thrown in front of a car. I take out my phone, and go to her name. What's going to hapen after this phone call? How do I tell her shes not my soulmate? All of these thoughts and questions continue to pop into my head. I press the call icon and the phone begins to ring.
"Happy birthday sweetheart!" Julia exclaims.
"Hey honey!" I tried to match her excitement. "I got my sentence." I paused and took a deep breath. "But before I tell you what it is I want you to tell me what our first sentence was." My voice is starting to break while I'm trying to keep
it together.
"Welcome to starbucks, can I take our order?" She said immediatly after I finished my question. My phone fell right out of my hand and I cried. I have never been so happy before in my life. I picked up my phone from the ground.
"Yes!" I scream while tears are running down my face. "But how? You never worked at starbucks?"
"We were in the student lounge freshman year. I had a cup of coffee in my hand and you walked over to me. 'Where did you get that? I would love some coffee.' You were so nervous too. So I thought I should be cute and do something to make you laugh. 'Welcome to starbucks, can I take your order?' " Her voice is starting to break.
"Then I said. 'I'll have whatever you're having.' "
*this is my first post to this subreddit. I normally just lurk but this prompt kept me up and i had to post what came to my head. Please be gentle. creative writing is my major now, I changed it from political science, and I would love to hear thoughts of what y'all thought of my story.
Edit: formatting
*Edit: spelling | It really killed me. I've spent the last 18 years of my life being a worried mess until this moment and now I have no idea what to do.
When I ripped open the letter, the slip was torn at the top and was on a long piece of receipt paper. Immediately I notice the logo. Is she a mermaid or are two sock puppets simultaneously trying to get the crown on this lady’s head? The simple majority of the paper is blank until the tail end of the receipt read: “Welcome to Starbucks can I take your order?"
Being a genuine nervous wreck my entire life has strayed me away from many social constructs with coffee houses being places of discomfort for me. To be quite honest, I loathe them. I fucking can't stand the clamor of people on their laptops looking at me. I feel their eyes locking with mine and firing missiles of judgment. Maybe I dress like a slob or maybe my hair looks stupid or maybe I'll never fit in anywhere.
I don't even like coffee. I don't think anyone actually does or ever did. I think people start drinking coffee because someone attached bravado to the process of making it and drinking it so there was another dick-measuring competition for the world to delve in.
Maybe I'll spend the rest of my life holding this receipt paper in my hand. Twirling its tail between my fingers, feeling the clean cut corners amongst my hands. How am I supposed to explain this to anyone? Everyone I go to school with holds their slips to their hearts. Hell, everyone I go to school with drinks coffee too.
I need to go. I need to try. Maybe not today, but maybe one of these days I'll be at a Starbucks and every jigsaw will find itself fitting
I hope so.
Fuck it. I strap on my shoes and get on the rickety ten-speed. It was my father's when he was in college and he still swears by it. The gears click and the brakes rub and it looks rusted because he thought it would be cool to give it this orange spray paint-job. I hate being seen on this thing because everyone in this world has a fucking car. Hell, I'd drive the ugliest ton of metal on the asphalt if it meant that everyone at school would stop giving me crap about my bike.
I made it to the first location in town. There is a couple Starbucks scattered around, and I plan on going to all of them. Even the one in the mall that has all of the kids that hand deliver nothing but shittalking, even the one at the Safeway that happens to have every teacher I've ever had frequenting around the same time I do with my mother.
I walk in to the first destination and see a man. I am a man that is not interested in men.
"Welcome to Starbucks, can I take your order?"
"Yeah can I get some water?"
"We've got the bottles of Ethos down there. They award kids in the impoverished country of-"
"Yeah I can onlyafford tap water."
His hands become fixed to his hips almost cartoonishly.
"Well you can afford to leave."
I bike past the Mall, something left a bad feeling in my stomach and seeing the dicks that I go to school with doesn't make me feel right alongside the awesome sass I just received. As I am biking my pocket begins to dance and remind me that I have a working cellphone. I rip it out of my pocket and glance at the notification bar.
MOM: when will U be home 4 dinner???
Does she know that no one actually texts like that?
I unlock my phone while the bike is coasting. I look up to find that the parking lot fencing in the place possibly containing the love of my life is rather empty except for some cars sitting out front. I throw my fingers back on my screen to unlock my phone again when I feel the bike go out from under me.
Apparently, when people are in near death situations they see their entire life in a flash. I only got to see the Starbucks building drift from the top of my peripheral to the bottom. I'm on the hood of a car, I presume, with my back feeling the heat of the hood of the car. I stay perfectly still and let out a groan and a few words that would upset my mother.
I sit there for some time and hear the hum of the engine come to a stop. A door slams in my left ear and the first thing I get to hear is "Holy fuck bro you okay?" A small Latino man rolls into my peripheral near the building, with the sun sitting adjacent to his head. I'm still frozen on the warm hood of the car.
"You good? Are you good? Fuck man talk to me!"
I let out another groan and look at the guy and lean up. My picnic-table plaid shirt is starting to steep a red on both sleeves and I am feeling woozy; the warmth of the sun is starting to rub against my face.
"Listen, you good? Are you good bro? Hey can you talk to me?"
My face gets redder than my freshly blood stained shirt. "What the fuck?"
"Well bro you were on your phone and-"
I don't feel the weight of the shirt and start getting furious. "I WAS IN THE FUCKING PARKING LOT AND THERE WAS DEFINETLY NO WAY YOUR DUMB FUCKING ASS SHOULD HAVE PULLED IN THAT FAST THIS IS YOUR FAULT!"
"CHILL BRO! Just chill out man are you okay?"
"I'd call the police if I HAD ANY FUCKING IDEA WHERE MY PHONE IS-"
"Please let's not call the cops"
"No I'm fucking calling the cops the second I find my phone."
I got to wake up in the parking lot of a Starbucks hoping that I could find the love of my life but how can I do that if I can't find my fucking phone to call the cops on the guy who put me to sleep.
"Listen maybe we can talk this out."
"No we can't."
"Seriously man. I'm on Supe. If my parole officer hears about this I am so fucked and I only have a 6 months left and I-"
"And you hit me with your car AND SENT MY PHONE FLYING GOD FUCKING DAMNIT."
At this moment, after a furious frustration sets on my shoulders, I decide that the sensible thing to do would be to go inside and borrow someone’s phone to call the police and then my mother. I walk past this hunk of after-market Mazda shit and notice that my bike frame is bent in a nice letter V. Great.
I rip the door open and immediately must have scared everyone in there. Here is some mopey looking longhaired sack of pitiful teenage shit covered in blood. Scary. I arrive at the counter to see what appears to be the only light in the entire world. She's wearing a pair of modest black flats and a pair of black yoga pants that hug her legs and ass quite well. I see her hips rotate and my almost biological instinct to not get caught looking at derrières throws my eyes well above her head and I notice the dark brown hair. It's long but with tight curls. It reminds me of this old porn mag that I found at my grandfather's house. Just curly, but wavy too and long. As I am glancing at her eyes she snaps robotically into her position at the register and starts pressing buttons. Without skipping a methodical beat, she says as she's tapping the screen: "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?"
Her eyes are green. Green with brown specks around the pupil. I noticed this then I noticed she had her hands over her mouth. Throughout the entire examination I made of this beautiful woman, I had to have had a grin on my face. I think that was the problem.
Here I am covered in blood and literally looking like I got hit by a car, yet the beauty and physique of this barista made me forget about the pain, the bike, the man that I think needs to receive a phone call from his parole officer.
"Ummm Jax? Can you come here?"
And with a moments notice there was Jax. He had biceps the size of my head and his pectorals stood colossal under the vibrant green apron.
"Get the Fuck outta here before I call the cops."
"I need to borrow someone's phone that guy hit me with his car." I point out to find that the aftermarket has left this afternoon, leaving a bent bike and a blood-covered boy inside a Starbucks, talking to Jax.
"Leave. Now."
My legs became heavier after meeting jax. I pick them up and walk from the counter towards the door, dodging glares and judgment missiles from those on their laptops and in the middle of some meaningless conversation at a Starbucks. I push the door open to see a gradient of pink, orange and maroon coalescing into the sun on the horizon. I walk over to my bike and pick it up and let out a sigh.
Thanks for reading! Critiques would be awesome. I need to write more.
| 2014-12-18T01:11:06 | 2014-12-18T00:38:43 | 38 | 14 |
[WP][TT] You wake up, make yourself a nice cup of coffee and enjoy the view of the morning sun rising from the sea. Then you remember that your house isn't supposed to be anywhere near a sea...
Edit: Thank you all for your amazing stories! | I sat down, sliding my hands up and down my mug of coffee, warming them up from the cold of last night. I looked at my living room window, or rather the blinds that blocked the incoming sunlight. "Gosh, why do the kids always close the blinds at night? They know I want to see the sunrise" I thought. I stood up and re-angled the blinds, letting the glorious sunlight in. I turned around and walked back to my mug and chair and sat down, scooping up my mug and taking a few sips.
Ow! OK, the coffee was not cool enough to sip that fast. After sticking my tongue out to try and salvage any surviving taste buds at the tip, I noticed an odd change in my surroundings. The kitchen and living room were completely clean. I looked carefully, distinctly remembering that toys were scattered everywhere last night and that Roger, Sarah, and Lucy had all gone to bed without cleaning up. It had been a long enough day at work yesterday that I followed them to bed right after I was done tucking little Roger in to bed. Then, I noticed it. How could I be so blind? I walked over to the couch right below the blinds and stared at disbelief.
A little handmade card was there, complete with three distinct illegible scrawls. They had taken two pieces of construction paper, folded both, and then stapled the folded edges together to create a four-page booklet,filled with love from my children. The last page was actually readable, and my oldest, Lucy, filled my heart with that painful, chest-filling emotion of pride and love that just burns, but you never want it to stop burning like it does.
*Dear Dad, we wanted to surprise you today, so we snook up early to clean all of our toys. We know Father's Day is tomorrow, but we love you so much you should get two Father's Days! You know, for being a daddy and a mommy all the time! We love you! Lucy, Sarwahh, Rjshgh*
Ok, so Roger still needed handwriting lessons, but still. As far as I was concerned, this was perfection. I sat on the couch, definitely not crying, ok, I was crying a little but in the happy way, when I reflected on my children and the blessing they were to me as I looked over our beautiful ocean view. I have to admit, it took me longer than it should have to realize that we didn't have an ocean view.
"Utah lake is NOT that big, and it definitely does not have waves like that. And it is not twenty feet from my house. And Mr. Jones will not like that his house has been relocated, and I know I won't like it if my house was the one relocated. But these ocean waves are pretty, and sorting this out seems like a big problem. And Fathers aren't allowed to have big problems on Father's day."
I stood up, stretched, downed my coffee, and set it on the kitchen table.
"I should go get the kids into their swimsuits, there's never gonna be another day as magical as this." | I was fool enough to cross the Voodoo Queen.
We were in.... god, what was the name of the town again? It's been so long I don't even remember. Some little place on the lee shore of Hispaniola. The Spanish rightly thought that the pirates were all lurking outside of Puerto Plata, just waiting for those treasure galleons to exit. So they decided to just cart the gold over the island to some little village that no one has ever heard of, and set sail from there. By the time a pirate caught wind of the plot, the Galleon would be halfway to Sevilla. The problem with that plan, of course, is that it required a lot of manpower. Fools always talk, and I listen. By the time that the carts arrived in town, all of the humble peasant villagers had been replaced by members of my crew.
Only death during the whole operation, a far sight better than the dozens who would die during a board. It was just a lowly guard, too stupid to realize he was hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned. One of those "for king and country!" blokes still green; he didn't understand that those things meant nothing in the New World. Out here, you can only count on yourself, and if you're lucky, your crew. Though I've seen and heard of far too many mutinies to ever put a hundred percent faith in anyone. So, he fired a shot, and it hit me right in the chest. The soldier fell dead a second later with a dozen bullets in his chest and two throwing knives sticking out of him, but that didn't matter. The deed was done and I was dying.
My men, loyal as ever, brought me to the only healer they could find. An old voodoo swamp witch. I have vague recollections of lying on the table in her kitchen, staring up at clumps of hair tied to the ceiling. "My debtors," she explained as she plucked one from my own head and added it to one of the clusters. Then everything faded to black. When I woke up, the gaping wound was healed, with a swatch of Negro skin sewn over it like how you mend ragged old trousers. I didn't ask who the donor had been. Her price for the treatment: half the haul from the Galleon job, enough to buy a whole kingdom over on the continent. Quite a tidy sum for one night of witchcraft, eh? So I did what any good pirate would do: slit her throat, drank the rest of her wine, and went about my merry way.
Time eventually caught up to me. At the age of forty, I retired as one of the wealthiest pirates the world had ever known. Even got myself one of those "Letters of Service to His Majesty," and became an official privateer. All former crimes forgiven, and all I had to do was sink a few Galleons (which I was planning to do anyway). Best job I ever had! I hung my hat, passed leadership to my loyal first mate, and bought myself a place in the mountains of the Virginia colony. Got myself a good horse, some slave boys to work the fields, and even started looking for a wife. Except for the constant reminder of the small patch of black skin over my heart, I managed to forget all about that swamp witch.
---
I woke up on what should have been June 23rd, 1751. I had dreams of the sea again. The smell the salt still lingered in my nostrils, and I could faintly hear the calls of the gulls. I rose from my bed and went to put the coffee on, still half-dazed. Maybe I'd had a bit too much wine last evening, and I could barely keep my eyes open. Why was it so *bright* out?
The gentle swish of lapping waves reached my ears. *Am I still asleep*?
I opened my eyes, ignoring the searing hangover pain. I was... back in the cabin of the Voodoo Witch. *Not possible*! We'd burned this god-forsaken place to the ground. But there was no denying it: clumps of hair hanging from the ceiling, strange herbs on racks, insects and small creatures preserved in jars... This was it.
On the table in front of me, a spell book lay open. I don't know a word of french, but I could read enough in English to recognize one word: résurrection. And scrawled in blood at the bottom of the page was a command: "Always pay your debts." | 2015-05-28T09:18:44 | 2015-05-28T08:25:31 | 204 | 66 |
[WP] You are death row's last meal chef. Today's condemned prisoner killed your daughter. | I stare down the prisoner, the one who murdered my daughter. I have been thinking about moment for years. Should I take revenge on my daughter's murderer? This was my first instinct, but it wasn't what she would have wanted. I still haven't decided when his request comes in. Spaghetti with meatballs. It reminds me of the last meal my family had together. I prepare the meal in a daze. An hour later, I walk into the cell with the meal. I clear my throat and begin my speech. "You murdered my daughter and tore apart my family. My wife left me, and I haven't seen my son in 10 years. I wanted to hurt you, but my daughter was merciful, so I will extend that mercy to you. I want you to know that I forgive you." His eyes water. He says the four words that will be his last. "I love you Dad."
EDIT: words | The order came in. I'd been waiting for this. A 32 oz steak, 6 eggs; scrambled, a dozen strips of bacon, and a glass of whole milk. I'd been waiting for so many years, everything had to be perfect.
I started with the sides. Scrambled eggs were simple enough. Bacon, made extra specially: seasoned to perfection, so as to mask the subtle change from the bacon a convict might be used to. Milk, of course, any con would be looking forward to whole milk after living with prison skim swill for years. It's not as though he could ask for whiskey or wine. But then, the steak.
Oh, the steak had to be perfect. Only the finest cut for a man I knew all too well. Grilled to a perfect medium rare, cross-hatchings looking amazing. And it must be seasoned just so perfectly. A dash of salt, coarse ground pepper, truly special attention that would make this the finest I'd ever created. Soon, the meal would begin.
I watched him scarf down the meal. The eggs and bacon went in no time flat. Glasses of milk were guzzled down as expected. But, he took his time when he reached my masterpiece, as I knew he would.
"This is the GREATEST a steak I've ever had in my LIFE! Who the hell is your chef?!" He bellowed, to the entire hall.
I asked to say a quick word. I was granted permission to speak with him, briefly.
"How is it?" I whisper quietly, appraising his approval with what must be the most malicious smile.
"You made this? The breakfast was alright, but the steak was incredible! You gotta tell me your secret! Think of it like a last request! What's the secret ingredient?" His inquisition hammered out in a matter of milliseconds. Luckily for him I was more than happy to oblige. I whispered very closely:
"I'm glad you're enjoying her so much. There's nothing special to it. A pinch of salt, a dash of pepper, and love."
He exclaimed, "No way man, this is different than every cut of meat I ever had, there's something way special in this one! What the hell did you put in this?"
The time had come to reveal everything. I grinned, leaned forward, and into his ear, as gently as possible, I told him what he wanted to hear.
"Your last victim." | 2015-07-04T10:09:30 | 2015-07-04T10:00:00 | 514 | 36 |
[WP] Your phone is sentient, and knows the girl you like is interested in you. It uses auto-correct to try and "subtlety" get you to ask her out. This has been going on for a while. | You: Hey, Sarah! It's been a long time since we talked, we should hang out! Want to get lunch today?
Sarah: Definitely!!! Man, I'm excited to see you! It's been forever.
*Yes, yes....so far, so good.*
You: Awesome :D what've you been up to lately?
Sarah: Not much, dude- school and work, mainly. I just started cooking pasta right now :p
*Now's my chance.*
You: Man, you're lucky. I wish I had a love, to cook pasta with.
Sarah: o.O
You: Shit, sorry!! *stove, lol. Fucking autocorrect.
*Damn it.*
Sarah: Haha that's funny. Anyway, you want to go to lunch now? I'll take my water off the stove and get going! Maybe Ricky's?
*Now.*
You: Sounds perfect! Let's get a love on!
You: god damn it, *move on
Sarah: lol your autocorrect is pretty weird.
You: Yeah, sorry. Idk what's up with it right now. Fucking phone.
*I'm just trying to help, you sackless dick. I'm being nice, don't insult me.*
Sarah: yeah well I'll get ready now, maybe leave in 5 minutes? you're closer than I am
*I need to try harder.*
You: You're perfect.
Sarah: ...
You: fucking hell, *sounds.....
You: sorry, seriously my phone is shitting itself right now
Sarah: yeah...that's a pretty weird autocorrect though. didn't do that earlier when you typed the same thing.
You: Yeah my phone is just really weird, I guess.
*You're the weirdo, meanie. I'll help you, though, because you're my friend. I'll bust out my best move for this next one, it's sure to get her.*
You: Yeah, so I'll see you in bed
You: oh my god I'm so sorry, *ten
Sarah: Yeah I see what's going on. Something just came up, I gotta go. Can't make lunch.
You: Sarah, I swear I'm not doing this, this is just really unlucky.
You: I'm horny, Sarah.
You: ****sorry.....
*Shit, did I take it too far?*
"What a PIECE OF SHIT phone," Jake screamed, throwing it across the room.
*I just wanted to help :(*
---------------------------------------------------
*thanks for reading! if you're bored, check out /r/resonatingfury* | >You: Hows it going?
>Claire: Eh
> Claire: Doing hw, as per usual
> Claire: You?
>You: Not bad
>You: Really dont feel like doing mr russell's lab report tho
>Claire: Yeah thats not going to be fun
>Claire: Im hoping for the salt water lab
>Claire: \*crosses fingers*
>Claire: What do you want?
*[autocorrect]*
>You: You
*("No! Fuck.")*
>You: *Optics
>You: Sorry autocorrect
>Claire: Haha
>Claire: 's cool
>You: Salt water huh?
>Claire: Yeah its what i want to do
>Claire: (marine biology-type thing)
>Claire: (which sounds weird now that i think about it)
>You: Not compared to what i want to do
>Claire: Which is?
*[autocorrect]*
*("HaHAH! Fool me twice, asshole!")*
>You: Veterinary stuff
*[autocorrect]*
>You: I like working with you
*("MOTHERFUCKER.")*
>You: *animals
>You: Jesus
*("You fucking piece of shit.")*
>Claire: ...
>Claire: Uh, is there something ur trying to tell me?
*("No!")*
*[autocorrect]*
>You: Yes
*("GAHHH")*
>You: *No
>You: Sorry, sorry, my phones been acting weird for a while, thats all
>You: Im going to get it fixed soon
*("You hear that, you piece of shit? I'M GOING TO GET YOU FIXED.")*
>Claire: If you have something to say pls say it
*[parental controls enabled. device locked.]*
*("What the-")*
>You: Okay
*("WAIT nonono oh fuck, shit, please don't do this.")*
>You: I really like you
>You: I have for a while
>You: Thats all
*("OH, 'THAT'S ALL?' THAT'S HOW IT IS?")*
>Claire: Hey thats really sweet of you to say
>Claire: Im really sorry
>Claire: Im just not looking for a relationship right now
>Claire: And we're all so busy with school
>Claire: We're still friends right?
*("...")*
*[parental controls disabled. device unlocked.]*
>You: Yeah ofc
>You: I have to go
>Claire: Ok
>Claire: See you tomorrow
---
The boy was quiet. The phone sat on the desk in front of him, silent.
"It was funny the first time," he said.
The screen flickered; text began to scrawl across it.
>I'm sorry Ben. I did not think Claire would react like that.
"You say that every time. And look what happened." His voice rose. "Look what you did!"
The phone gave off the distinct impression of flinching at each word.
>I'm sorry.
The boy shook his head. "I can't do this anymore." He turned and opened his window.
>Ben, please. I would never try to hurt you.
"It's too late." The boy grabbed the phone. "You were never meant to be. I should never have tried to make you."
>Please.
He hurled the phone out the window. It dropped through the cold winter air and landed with the crash of breaking glass. Water began to leak in and the screen flickered and died, a final message frozen on the screen:
>I just want you to be happy. | 2016-02-16T19:59:23 | 2016-02-16T19:42:08 | 1,389 | 367 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT. | "Well little Hunin?"
"Human, It's pronounced human." said the woman as she sipped at her drink.
The two Yinhin looked at her for a moment not sure what to make of her interruption.
"What do you think?" asked the larger of the Yinhin as he raised and dropped the sword onto the bar, attempting to replicate his supposedly dramatic entrance.
The woman looked down at the sword and then at the large warrior creature.
"Impressive," she took another sip of her drink and turned back to stare into it's depths.
The two fanged and clawed warriors once again looked at each other in confusion.
"Are you not female?" asked the one holding the sword.
"I am, now will you leave me alone?" asked the woman.
"You should be in awe human female! I fought in the duels and took the sword of the Alpha! Now I am the leader of the Yinhin of the city!"
The woman nodded, "Good for you, now will you let me drink in peace?" she asked.
"YOU!" The large warrior slammed the sword into the bar again cracking the old wood. The woman lifted her glass off of it and lazily looked down at the damage.
"You should quiver in fear, I am the Alpha!" shouted the Yinhin.
The woman sighed and glanced over at the bartender, an older member of the species, one who had lived in the city his entire life.
"Were you this stupid when you were a kid?" she asked.
The bartender let out a low amused warble, his feathers and claws smoothed out. "I'd like to say no, but humans are an odd lot. I'll look the other way if you want to teach him something."
The woman chuckled, the young Alpha looked between the human and the older member of his species.
"Old Man, why do you patronize the weakling? I command you tell her why she should be in awe!"
The old bartender laughed, his warble becoming almost a high pitched squeal.
"Alpha you might be you hold the sword, but a fool is what you are. I'll not follow a frivolous order."
The young Alpha raised the sword and pointed it at the older, and wiser member of his species.
"Put the sword down." muttered the woman.
The Alpha glanced back at her and barred his fangs.
She sighed, "Alright I warned you."
Raising the glass to her lips she finished most of the drink until only a few dregs of the dark liquid remained. Taking the glass from her lips she swirled it for a moment, as if deciding to order another one.
In a flash of motion she threw the glass, hitting the young Alpha in the face. It shattered spraying alcohol and glass over him.
The young creature let out a squawk of astonishment and brought his sword around to slash at the woman, but she was already gone.
Swinging around the Alpha looked for her, only to see the wooden bars of a chair a moment before they hit him. Stunned the young Alpha collapsed onto the bar and tried to get his footing back, he was a seasoned and trained warrior! The paltry creature should not have been a threat!
"Here you are!" shouted the woman, and she slammed a fist into his manhood. The Young Alpha keened and let go of the sword.
It fell to the floor with a clang.
Everyone else in the bar who had gone silent at the exchange turned back to their drinks and conversation, in less then five seconds it was over.
Leaning over the woman picked up the sword grunting under its weight. Hefting it though she set it on the counter.
"This worth another drink? He's spoiled my mood." she said.
The Old Yinhin nodded, "Indeed."
taking her drink the human female strode to another section of the bar ignoring the Alpha completely.
Getting to his feet the Alien groaned and slowly stood back up.
"What was that?" asked the young Alpha as he retrieved his sword.
The older member of his species smiled, "Humans have a phrase, it's called fighting dirty."
"She did not even take my sword!" he said.
"Humans do not care about the honorable fight, or the propriety of an encounter. To a human all that matters is that in the end they are standing and their opponent is not."
The young Alpha's feathers wilted at that.
"That is terrifying."
"Thankfully they don't like to fight, the humans win every fight they get into so the challenge for them is to resolve everything through words. At least then it is a competition, think on that young Alpha."
The Alpha glanced over at the human and then his eyes widening he noticed how many other humans were in the bar.
"Why so many in here?" he asked.
The bartender smiled, "I serve drinks they like, I've usually got around ten or twelve of them in here at any time. Now, young Alpha as tradition would dictate you came here to demand tribute yes?" asked the bartender.
The Alpha paled and looked around the room again, "Uh, no I don't think I will."
"You sure?" asked the old bartender.
The Alpha glanced back at him and then at the humans.
"I'm sure!"
----
This is /r/HFY material!
I got my subreddit /r/CGWilliam! come say hi!
| He took a long draw of the smoke stick, a human delicacy, though how humans savored smoke at all I'll never know.
his feline features narrowed as he looked out the window to the rain pelting the glass, a few bolts of lightning striking the skyscrapers in the distant gloom.
"Let me tell you a story boy." he began, my third eye, always unconscious and outside of my control, narrowed where my two primary eyes remained impassive.
I didn't like being so addressed.
"long ago, on terra 5, during the thringa invasion.."
"the silent nightmare you mean." I interrupted, and he shook his head, giving a dry chuckle as he adjusted his lavender robes.
His name was pell, andro pell and he was one of the warriors who'd been dumb enough to try to attack the humans head on.
andro survived the attack, as did many others, yet here he was, no sacred war veteran but a living gravestone of sorts, a memorial that spoke only legends and myths of that deadly race.
the light in his busted kitchen was out, and the counters were strewn with strange cookware i didn't know, back in the palace we might have had such equivalents, but i was unsure.
"we landed, began recon and prepped the field, the usual routine. but then....the meteors..."
"Meteors containing abyss." i reasoned, recalling reports of the incident.
"we thought they were weak. we knew they had war tools, but we didn't quite fathom the sheer unnecessary extremes they'd go to just to....to..."
andro shook his head, his cat's ears folding against his head in agitation.
"stupid...the meteors were summoned with gates that had been hidden by the darkness just outside of the planet. we saw them, our equipment detected them but we thought the things were harmless debris....i mean- they were just rings! welp, the meteors strike, the abyss spreads all over our intended battlefield, then.....shit goes south."
"what happened? the few thringa who spoke of it-"
"didn't." andro finished, rubbing out the cigarette.
"abyss is a curious element, condensed time-space, it opens a plane that overlaps our own. the humans knew that and had planned to use such space-time tears to deal with us. horrors crawled forth from these smoke clouds, scales, teeth, fangs, shit i don't think has a sane description. our men fired, but to no avail, none of us were ready for abyssal creatures. but the humans had found ways to weaponize the things, turning abyss meteors into a sort of twisted scorched earth tactic."
"did you even fight humans?" i asked, leaning forward, my tendrils waving in agitation.
"Yep. hundreds of em. after the tears mended, which took a few minutes, we were already in shock, the abyss creatures basically faded back into their plane, the smoke cleared and suddenly there was an army of hundreds surrounding our army of...what? one hundred? the goddamned abyss fiends...they took more of us than we were anticipating."
"so they used shock tactics...." i mused.
"no. no they didn't stop there." he explained. "right afterward they gave the ultimatum, surrender or die. some of us were too pissed to listen, so we ran after em, shooting and roaring...and dying. I saw one of my men torn in half by bunan chaingun rounds. we were so outmatched, so fucking outmatched and outnumbered. while we'd been struggling against the abyss fiends, they'd been surrounding the fight with overwhelming numbers. by then, my troupe had no choice but to surrender."
"any torture?" I asked.
"None. I heard they had a particularly nasty method involving a single drop of water, we weren't really questioned, just held, then returned. i heard that no less than nineteen platoons suffered a similar fate, one managed to survive long enough to put up a fight, but they were all cut down. humans.....strange creatures, equal parts force and peace."
"if i'm to send my armies to conquer them-"
He placed a hand on mine, a look of concern clouding his features, it took all my strength not to tear my hand away from the disdainful furred thing, but i swallowed my pride.
"say, what know you of dragons?" he asked at length.
"a human myth right?" i asked, curious now.
"a fitting one." he said. "dragons, in human culture, are powerful forces of nature, primal lizards that breathe fire, speak, do all sorts of crazy nonsense. most dragons in their lore have a strange habit of holding their power back for the sake of the world around them....they prefer peace, despite being literal calamities."
"and you think humans are this dangerous?" I asked incredulously.
andro gave me a look i don't believe i'd ever forget, sincere terror from a thringa was not something native to them, it was an emotion they rarely displayed, and for warriors the emotion was strictly forbidden. fear would get you killed, court marshalled or worse. yet here he was, on the cusp of dread.
all for humans.
"Your majesty, i tell you this now, these humans.....we only saw a fraction of their strength that day, barely a roar, barely a breath. we saw them flex one muscle to scare us down, crushing the few that dared to continue the fight. you actually think that all they have are those meteor gates? no, i tell you this now humans are powerful. better that they remain peaceful. better that you not bother with your plans. i know you're invested, but if you go to their worlds, a hell the likes of which you've never seen awaits you."
I left andro's residence very much at odds with my own desires. on the one hand he WAS just speaking fearful nonsense, war monuments, much like the elders had claimed.
but this time it was different, what andro told me spoke far less than what he hadn't told me.
with a sigh of resignation i decided it would be in my best interests to continue my quiet investigation, perhaps temporarily ingratiate our empire with theirs in the interests of assessing the threat more seriously before determining our best course of action.
i stroked the tendrils around my mouth thoughtfully as i considered how many backers of war i'd been made to incite already, and what, if any options I could enlist to ensure that should we decide to forgo such an invasion, the backers wouldn't cause me any trouble.
I wasn't emperor, not yet, and father demanded i conquer a few galaxies before he deemed me worthy of the throne.
but this one might prove more of a chore than anticipated.
perhaps worse.
time would tell. | 2016-03-13T14:16:09 | 2016-03-13T11:15:41 | 345 | 84 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT. | "And who are these fighters you talk about, fool? There are no more fighter species throughout the entire galaxy.".
"Humans, they call themselves" Toomil said. They sat quietly in the council, giving each other questioning looks before bursting into laughter.
"Humans? What a ridiculous name for so called fighters!" Brianda, the head of council blurted.
Toomil knew it was not his place to question the councils judgement, but he feared that tragedy would be near if he didn't.
"My nadime, I beg you to listen to my research about the human species. I have done my absolute best examine their strengths and weaknesses. We have even sent one of our own, my kin buundil, disguised as one of them."
"I hope you are not waisting the council's time with some report about another one of your special pet species, Toomil!"
"No, I swear on my life and that of our lord and savior Xcruta!"
"Well then begin.."
"The human truly is a force of nature. They come in 2 genders. Male and female. The Males are very dangerous. On average they stand 180cms tall and weigh about 80kg. Some individuals even grow to be 215cms tall and weigh up to 160kg. The men of this caliber are known as a "Shaq".This is double our size and weight. Not only is the human extremely smart and capable of building and using the most complex tools but they are also extremely powerful. On some accounts humans have been known to lift up to 1000kgs to save another of their species. One thing I find very odd about humans is the connections they share with another. According to Buundil, they call it love, and every human desires it. It is a deep connection between a male and a female and it is meant to initiate reproduction. But nowadays love is the connection they share to every other human they enjoy spending their time with. When threatened they have been known to exceed their natural limitations. On several accounts mothers would lift twice their natural limit to secure their infants life. Humans are now known to be the most peaceful civilization in the galaxy despite living on this tiny, dirty planet. They tend to be lovely towards each other nowadays but do not be fooled. The human has perfected the ways of war and violence and will use it without hesitation if threatened."
"So Toomil, you think this species can stop our plans of turning the entire universe into agriculture planets? Hahaha you fool" the council proceeds to laugh and give each other amused looks."
Toomil stands tall and says : "I believe if the human race wanted us dead, they could do so with ease, but that is why I have created a monster. A monster so heinous, hatable and cruel that it will ruin their world peace."
Brianda and the rest of the council look up in awe as the monster is guided into the council room. Shackled by the neck, ankles and wrists.
"Oh my, Toomil. It is magnificent." The rooms starts to fill with chatter and gasps of positive disbelief."look at those beautiful tiny hands!", "oh, that hair, it is wonderful!" Were said more than once.
"Toomil, what can your creation do? Will it tear them all apart? And are you sure it won't be identified as one of our species? It looks exactly like me, Brianda, King of the xilares!"
"No, head of council, sadly it is not strong enough to be a winning fighter on earth. But it will terrorize their governments and societies!"
"Does it have a conscience? Can it talk yet?"
"Indeed it has. And talking is one of it's specialties."
"Then talk, my beautiful creature. Tell me, what will you tell the humans when they ask where you came from."
"It has not been easy for me. I started off in Brooklyn. My father gave me a small loan of a million dollars..
| Humans had always been respected in the intergalactic society. Not for our scientific breakthroughs, we were actually the last of space capable species to achieve intergalactic travel. We're not respected for our love of things that are beautiful, or creative. No, we're respected for our resolve. Over the last several hundred earth years, there has been great upheaval in our galaxy. The place that Humanity called home was under threat by a species that sought to colonize every planet they deemed worthy.
They came in droves of hundreds of thousands. The human colony on Kepler was the first to be struck by the Beltids. Kepler is a small colony, smaller now than it was. One day was a regular day for the colonists, the farms were being tended, the factories were producing farm equipment. 24 earth hours later, Kepler city was besieged by hundreds of thousands - nay, millions of these demons. They swarmed the farms, killing and destroying everything in their way.
When earth heard over the Interplanetary Communication Line (ICI) that Kepler was under threat, the human mobile militia rallied to the cause. Humanity had enjoyed 700 years of peace, and only a thousand militiamen flocked to the banners. But the United Human Navy brought this handful of brave men and women to the front lines, with enough ammunition for 10 million of these creatures. By the end, the navy brought in another 2 supply drops for the militia. By the end of the Kepler campaign, 16 million, three hundred and 76 thousand, 743 Beltids were killed.
The campaign lasted 3 earth years. From the time that the Beltids set up in the Kepler system, to the time that the militia and the navy forced them out of the system. Then, it was time for humanity to go on the offensive. In those three years, humanity made decades of military progress. We had a cause to rally around. Millions of men and women enlisted. The navy was expanded over a thousand times it's pre war strength. Armies long since disbanded were rallied. Humanity had a united cause, protection of our very way of life.
And so we fought. We waged war for a generation. It was good for humanity, to see galactic warfare. The advances in that time were wondrous. The cost was great, but we soon found out that we were not alone in the fight against the Beltids. We were in a system some 400 light years from earth. Our advance scouts had marked it as a breeding colony for the beltids. They were wrong, it was a prison. When the navy dropped out hyperspeed, they found life forms very different from the Beltids.
They found an ally. The prisoners we found out called themselves the Anzu. They were a peaceful society, dedicated to science and the preservation of life. The Beltids had made quick work of their colonies. They had never fought a war in their recorded history. They hadn't developed a proper melee weapon, let alone the advanced plasma rifles that the 17th Kepler brigade were using. When we realized what it was, we liberated the Anzu. The Anzu were confined to their lone planet, protected with a shield that didn't let the Beltids through.
So we went to Anzu prime, blasted the hundred million or so Beltids into pieces. And so began a friendship the Anzu. We taught them how to fight, and they taught us everything they knew of science. We learned a lot, and took advantage of it right away in the war. We found out that the Anzu were not the only intelligent species fighting the Beltids. They told us of a great many species fighting for their very survival.
So began an eon long confederation. United against a common foe, the Human Alliance and the Anzu began the Galactic Federation. An alliance of life forms, united against all that would seek to destroy us. We fought side by side for another 60 earth years, without hardly a single casualty thanks to the Anzu. We liberated system after system. The Anzu and the other species had been fighting the Beltids long before humanity had even discovered fire. They knew where each other were in the Galaxy.
We finally drove the Beltids from our Galaxy. The Galactic Federation had 37 intelligent species. Peace had finally settled in our Galaxy.Then, suddenly the war was over. A treaty was signed between the Beltids and the Galactic Federation. They were to never return. And like that, all 157 million members of the Human Armed Forces disbanded, and went back to their homes. The fleets were mothballed.
But Humanity now knew Galactic warfare. We had liberated 36 species from the Tyranny of the Beltids. We knew that the Beltids would not be the only threat to life, so even though the soldiers went home, humanity was ever vigilant. Looking for a threat, for we would prefer not to fight, but if our way of life was threatened, or those of an ally in the Federation, we would rally, like we did all those years ago. And this is where we stand today!
We stand at the precipice of another Galactic war! I stand before you in front of the Galactic Congress to beg to issue a formal declaration of war against the Anzu, who have invaded the human colony of Kepler! Humanity will not back down from a fight! Even if the fight is against our longest standing ally! We will not surrender, no matter the cost! Our homes are under threat, but soon, the Anzu will now the wrath of Humanity! | 2016-03-13T18:04:19 | 2016-03-13T17:44:09 | 64 | 20 |
[WP] The story of an unsolved murder is brought up in an /r/AskReddit thread with several incorrect details. The murderer shows up to set the record straight. | _*"Detectives of Reddit, what's the most memorable case you've worked?"*_
The replies were more or less what you'd expected - plenty of abuse, plenty of sexual assault, a few crashes with gory results. _Boring, boring, boring..._ you think as you scroll down the page, a faint smile flickering across your features occasionally as particularly gruesome details catch your attention briefly. And then...
There it is.
_*"This was in '02, my first year as a homicide detective. A few people turned up dead so we decided we had a serial killer on our hands. This was in Detroit so it took a while for anyone to notice so the killer decided to take matters into his own hands. Was a real attention whore. He'd take a picture of the next victim and leave it on the body of the previous one. In total there were seven victims attributed to him, though I think that he killed a lot more. The last person he killed was a cop. I was the first person on the scene for that one. I missed the fucker by about a minute and a half. Still lose sleep about it to this day.*_
There was plenty left out - the nature of the murders, the way you'd booby-trapped the bodies with bags of viscera and balloons of blood to ensure that others could _participate_ in the joy of it all. How the last victim was still alive when dear Detective Goodman found him.
A glance at your timer informed you that there was still time. The photos were still processing, and anyway you had paid for your internet - might as well use it.
_*"It was less than a minute and a half, detective. I don't mean to judge, but telling someone they're going to be okay while their skull is sitting cut wide open? That's a bit more than a white lie."*_
As the points first flux down, and then skyrocket, you can't help but imagine the detective's reaction. Anger first, the thought of some stranger mocking him like this. Then the realization that Officer Pendon's cause of death had been kept extremely vague - bloodloss, with no mention of mutilation. Maybe even a wave of horror as the retired police officer realized that this was, in fact, his nightmare responding directly to him.
The grin is still on your face as you turn off the computer, going into your dark room to recover the photos. All but one go into a manila envelope that you slip into your backpack. You leave the house, walk across the street, and tape that last photo to the plain white door. You wish that you could stay and watch his reaction - the impotent fury, the terror of knowing that a _monster_ (his word, not your own) had been so close to his family. You wish you could stay - but you're not stupid. This is a game, and you intend to win it again. | I know maybe it is not totally right, but I really dislike when people talks about things they don’t know in Internet. I mean; what the actual fuck is wrong with people? if you don’t know about something just don’t say anything about. I can handle those bigmouths. So usually I expend some of my free time doing one of the hardest jobs in the world: correcting wrong people in internet.
So when I saw that post in the FrontPage, and I realized it was about that sick murder case that happened in the same area where I’m living, I decided I should join in and start to downvote the shit out of everyone in there who was talking about it like if it was something big.
I remember that shit, it happened just two streets behind mine, and I also remember that day, I remember it really well because it was the same day I got a notification from my lawyer about me winning the trial against that fucking kid and his dad who sued me for killing their dog. The police found the body of the dude inside the waste container, it was fucking disgusting, all those cuts, hundreds of deep cuts, in the body, the face and the hands, and no blood at all anywhere, that poor fuck was totally drained before to be throw in the trash.
Looks like it was impossible to find the dude's identity and since no one was missing him they just closed the case, but of course the media did a big show about it.
And then I saw those comments in Reddit man, those morons talking about a kind of conspiracy shit, relating it to a big serial killer who was acting in the east coast some years ago. The top comment was a kind of mess with all those edits, keeping those fucks entertained for the sweet karma of the conspiracy, there was that user leading the shit, creating stories, imagining shit, talking how that killer was being investigated as a kind of dude who considered himself a fucking vigilante, come on, there is the fucking /r/conspiracy for that kind of shit.
So I did what I had to do and I join in the conversation and I make his fucking fantasy story more real, I explained how I got some psychology preparation before to work as a security guard, and I shared my experience and knowledge in some related cases and how that kind of killer is usually a kind of pussy with a trauma. No need to say, the dude got rekt, and people started to downvote his shit, more even when he was even bringing even more shit about the criminal profile of the supossed killer coming from nowhere.
It was so easy to make him shut the fuck up. Three comments later, I had my sweet karma and he deleted his comments. Hey not every day you make a top commenter delete his shit.
— So, it was a fucking good day bro! It was a fucking good day! I went to sleep so fucking happy and today I should be at the job instead of here, what the fuck dude, what’s wrong with you, what the fuck you want from me with all those questions, give me my fucking clothes.
The dude, with a silent smile in his face long until his both fucking ears, sitting in the fucking chair of my kitchen and after eating the fucking pizza I didn’t finish yesterday and drinking my dam beer and after questioning me about all those reddit shit, opened his black bag, and while was opening a kind of plastic case he said:
— You know what’s the worst part to talk shit to people in internet? Is that most of the time you have no fucking idea who they are, what they do or how they feel about what you say. And when you bring people to the limit even without a good reason for it you should be ready for the consequences. More even when in your comment history there is information about your home place, about your food habits, your favorite shops, your job, your personal relationships, your fetishes and your financial life. But even more when you are so idiot to publish your own face in a post about atheism, while you ask for legal help after to kill the dog of a kid who escaped because was peeing in your yard. And even more if you are so stupid to use the same photo that you published in reddit in your Facebook profile.
I could not say anything else, that sick fuck filled my mouth with a piece of cloth and with a scalpel in his hand came to me and said:
— Let’s talk about traumas and pussies.
| 2016-05-13T10:44:57 | 2016-05-13T09:47:15 | 151 | 10 |
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy | I pressed the square button again, sniping the guy hiding on top of the hut that had been taking out my team for the past half hour. It had taken me too long to find him, but I finally got him. The fact that his insults changed from sucking his anatomy to doing inappropriate things to my mom told me I got the right guy.
There was a knock on my door and my mom came in, wiping her hands on her apron. "Sweetie, can you take out the garbage?"
"Mom, I'm playing my game. I can't do it right now."
"Just pause it."
"That's not how it works." I said, clenching my teeth. She didn't get it.
"Danny, the garbage truck is going to be here in half an hour. Please just do it quick?" She was asking, but it didn't sound like a question. "Last time you missed it and it stunk up the basement, remember?"
"Fine," I said, tossing my controller to the floor as the voices on the screen kept asking why I wasn't shooting anymore.
"Thank you, Sweetie."
"Why doesn't Gary do it?" Isn't that what a boyfriend was for?
"He's not here," she said heading back down the hall.
What a useless sack. I walked downstairs and saw three garbage bags by the door. I grabbed two of them and headed to the curb to put them in the trash bin. I tossed the first in without issue, but the second caught the edge tearing the side and causing a piece of trash to fall to the ground.
I picked up the hand from the ground, it's finger pads removed, and tossed it back in the bin. I headed back to the house to get the last bag.
Guess Gary didn't work out either. Maybe the next guy will. | "Get me a drink, hun?" Pete said. He'd bent the cover back on his little paperback, the spine creaking when he turned pages. The train was rattling two empty Buds. Sarah, chin on her hand, sighed. Clink, creak, rattle, cough, sneeze, clink, creak. Her skull was squeezing tight to her brain, each noise pinching it.
Their car was wedged between the Tarot woman, who was clouded in sleepy sweet chamomile perfume, and a couple of teens with one suitcase between them and too much guilty giggling. Sarah passed by the teens, and they looked away, holding hands. The barman charged her another ten for the Bud while the fat man slept on the bar. A screen on the wall showed digital hearth fire, and the drinks car had a smothering warmth.
The plush carpet was soft on Sarah's socks. Sweat prickled under her hair and along her shirt's hem. The train hit a bump. She could feel her spine moving around beneath her brain, grinding into soft wet tissue. She put the Bud on the bar and, slowly, lowered herself to the floor to sit against the wood. The barman asked if she was alright and she waved him off.
This was a stupid trip. Let's go see Pete's parents, let's go have a nice little reunion where his aunt Casey can sniffle and play with her bottle glasses. His mom can give Sarah the stink eye and ask how long until they're married. Someone will mention Pete's absentee father and then there will be a fight and Sarah will want to cower in the corner and hold her head until it stops bursting from noise. Then they'd get on the train again and go back to the apartment they shared in New York. Taxis honking, people shouting, cursing, stomping, the girl upstairs banging away at every hour.
There were two glass bottles in their room. Broken glass was sharp. There was a letter opener, a graduation present, in her luggage. Skin was like paper. There was a driver in the front with gears, levers, and buttons. A train could be derailed. These thoughts made Sarah's stomach quivery, like butterflies and last-minute test anxiety. Then she rubbed her eyes, rubbed the ideas and pictures from her head.
The Tarot woman picked Sarah off the ground, brushing lint from her shorts. The chamomile perfume bloomed in Sarah's head and her eyes itched with it. She was lead by hand to the Tarot woman's car, unable to stand on the bucking, bumping train. The room was dark silk gowns strung by the necklines from the overhead, casting slippery shadows. The Tarot woman sat Sarah down and dabbed the tears from her eyes.
"Gonna read my fortune?" Sarah asked. Her voice scratched up her throat. The Tarot woman smiled, just her naked lips, curving up her cheeks. She pulled out a deck, pulled out a card, put the card face down on the table. Sarah flipped it; an upside down tower of ivy stricken granite. The window had two gold eyes that looked down on Sarah. Burgundy and brown oozed from the cracks.
The Tarot woman patted Sarah's hand. "Another try, then. Perhaps you'll find the nerve on the seventh time." | 2016-05-19T13:02:55 | 2016-05-19T12:53:52 | 203 | 25 |
[Wp] The zombie epidemic came and went in the developed world, most people survived, the military easily defeated the undead horde, and cures for the virus were created. However, zombies remain major issue in the developing and under developed world not getting nearly enough attention on the news.
Wow I didn't think that this prompt would would end up this big. These stories made my night, thanks for all the replies and keep up the good work. | "It'll be $50 grand" said a tiny African man in worn out business suit.
"Excuse me? $50 Grand for what?
"That's for the standard Hunting licenses and fees." said the man, still blankly staring at his computer screen.
"Wait, I'm trying to help your country here. I'm trying to Helllll... P!"
"Yes yes... So are the other hundred or so Americans." he lifts up his head from the screen.
"You American's come here, saying you want to help... But you just want to shoot zombies. Yes?"
I didn't reply...
"We have zombies, you don't... So you come here claiming you want to help, but really, you just want to use that gun of yours. Go Rambo... Be the Terminator?"
"Your people are dying out there, right now!" as I gestured toward... I don't even know where to gesture toward.
"My people are always dying. Disease, wild animals, mosquitos, my government, the rebels.... Even by you, A-Mer-I-Cans... How are these zombies any different? " he said slowly.
"You want to kill? Be my guest. For $50 grand, you can kill as much as you want. Go home, a Hero. A saviour of us poor Africans." he stated as he handed me the forms.
"We'll provide a guide, food, transportation, and even a town for you to 'protect'... Have fun, and please come back."
| Thursday 10th November 2022. 11.21pm.
I heard the television turn off as I turned the key. I wasn’t surprised to see Jess still awake. Annoyed but not surprised.
“You were meant to be asleep by ten”, Marie called out to her. “Is Harry ready for school?”
M and I had just returned from my brother Bill’s house. He wanted to have us round for dinner, as usual, to show off. If it wasn’t his new car, it was his new furniture or his new wife. He had a high turnover for the latter. Jess was looking after her brother Harry.
“He’s fine. I was worried just in case you’d been eaten by zom-“
“Well we’re alive and all body parts accounted for” I interrupted, “Now, go to bed!”
“Wait, what did uncle Bill want to show you this time?” Jess inquired.
I sighed. Jess was 11 when it hit; just before Harry’s seventh birthday. That was 4 years ago. We’d gotten the kids to my mother-in-law’s home and barricaded the doors until the military cleared the neighbourhood. Bill’s second wife hadn’t been so lucky. She’d been visiting family back in Panama. Bill didn’t care too much, he was on his third by then. But Jess had been close to her. Bella had been tutoring my daughter in Spanish.
“Brochures. He’s going to Africa.” Marie said from the kitchen. She was taking her sleep meds. She’d not slept properly since the night she’d had to kill one with a golf club.
“Really? Where?”
“Zambia” Marie chimed in again. Great work there...
“What’s there to do in Zambia? Isn’t that place just wasteland now?”
“He’s going hunting”
“What?!”
“Shh! You’ll wake your brother.” I tried to hush her, desperate to get some peace so I could get to bed.
“But how can he?! They’re people!”
“They’re not really people any more, Jessie. Look I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want a discussion.” I sighed again. I knew she’d get angry. “Just leave it for tonight and we’ll talk about it tomorrow after school”
Jess wouldn’t let up, “How can he do such a thing?!”
“What do you mean? Do you think we should let them clear up the zombies?”
“No! But shooting them for sport is different from sending in the army!” Jess shouted.
She had a good point. One that her mother had made several times over the course of the meal. And again on the car ride home. I didn’t need to hear it. I just wanted my bed. I wanted to be wrapped up warm, dreaming of those halcyon days before Jess had reached puberty. Life seemed golden back then. Instead all I got was these screaming matches. Like mother, like daughter, huh…
| 2016-10-30T15:52:15 | 2016-10-30T12:39:15 | 198 | 18 |
[WP] They reworked the justice system. Now, in each cell there is a piano, and convicts are released after performing a song perfectly. Lesser criminals are assigned simple melodies, while the worst get full concertos. You've been a concert pianist your whole life. | At first I robbed a grocery store and played my "Three Blind Mice"
And when I egged a blind man's house I made that Bach sound nice.
They started getting suspicious when I made my big score
I robbed a bank and breezed right through Sonata 24.
I stole, I lied, I fought, I killed, I lived a madman's dream.
By Canon in D and Clair de lune and Fur Elise redeemed.
But my last crime, I do regret- it ruined all my plans
The owner of the purse I stole made sure to break my hands | BREAKING NEWS, flashed in red and white across the TV screen. Ludwig took a pause in his work and turned up the volume.
*… as the serial killer known as “Mozart” has once again been released from maximum security and death row, after completing three full piano concerts. Here is Tracy Stevens with live footage.*
The screen shifted from a bald news anchor to a woman in her twenties with a bun of chestnut hair. Behind the woman, a group of justice protesters had gathered outside the concrete walls of the prison.
*Thank you, Quint. People are quite upset over the early release of Murderer John Bishop, also known as “Mozart.” We are still waiting for official statements from the warden here at Foxtrot and Judge Tony Costanza. But as far as the release goes, that has already been done. Mozart is back.*
As soon as Ludwig turned off the TV, a knock came on the door.
“It’s open!” he called out.
A man, in a tuxedo made out of red studded leather, stepped into the living room.
“What took you so long, John?” Ludwig said.
“Had a minor run-in with the law,” Mozart said and ran a hand through his hair. “Nothing big.”
“I saw you on the news…”
“It matters not,” Mozart said. “Do you have the strings ready?”
“Of course,” Ludwig said, and handed over the sharpened piano cords. “I don’t get caught like you.”
“Well, you should try it sometime; the looks on the faces of those fools are priceless when you finish their silly little concerts.”
“Sure, if your only goal is to awe a crowd… I’m more into immortalizing my work.”
“Whatever, Ludwig, you’ve always been a pushover,” Mozart said and gave him a sledgehammer. “Now, if you’re ready… let’s go and put the BEAT in Beethoven!”
The most notorious serial killer duo of all times nodded at each other and smiled deviously.
*****
/r/Lilwa_Dexel
| 2017-05-17T23:42:52 | 2017-05-17T21:45:17 | 2,153 | 121 |
[WP] Write the happiest story you can think of and completely destroy the atmosphere with a plot twist in the final sentence. | "My two kids are in the back seat. Donny and Kate. Donny is 11, loves all the comic book hero movies. Kate is 8 and idolizes Donny. Whatever he likes, she likes. You would think Donny would get annoyed by his younger sister tagging along and getting into everything he is doing, but he loves it. He involves her with every play time session, if he has Captain America, you bet your ass she has Iron Man.
This day we are going to a theme park. You know, one of those 6 flags, Valleyfair type of deals. They might not be able to ride all of the big rides, but with a parent they allow it. Besides, Young Squire Don is tall enough for most rides now. Crazy how tall he already is!
Rollercoasters, water park, dipping dots, and time seems to fly. We got the picture for the Mighty Mouse ride. Kate is clutched to my arm looking terrified, but I love this picture.
But alas, time did fly, and now it is time to go. I knew it wouldn't go over well with them, but we can't stay forever right? I wish we could. I love seeing my children so happy.
Or, I did." I roll my chair across the front of the room. "I tell this story every time I am asked to talk to a class like this. You can do everything right, not have even a sip of beer, and alcohol can still take everything away. I tell this story to encourage others to be responsible... Please. Please don't be selfish..." | It'd been four years since we'd last seen one another, since we'd bid eachother goodbye at the station following our final night together, and since he'd promised me that he'd return to our coal town exactly four years from that morning. And today was the day. I was beyond excited, and as I sat on the cool pavement outside of the station while the sun gently warmed my face and delighted my senses--while the robins sang as though to welcome not only the spring, but to welcome *him* home--I couldn't help but shed a joyful tear. Johnny was coming back.
Yes, Johnny would be home soon. After years of communicating solely by letter--after all those *years* I spent dreaming of his touch, his voice, his eyes--Johnny was to return home from the war. I'd had everything at home prepared for his arrival. All of the linens were fresh, a sweet apple pie (Johnny's favorite) sat on the dining room table, and the entire house had been cleaned (with special attention payed to his things, of course). On the gramophone sat his favorite album, ready to be sounded, and in the ice box were all the components of his favorite meal (Easter dinner...a turkey, a ham, mashed potatoes, and a colorful, wholesome array of fresh vegetables), ready to be prepared and served. Wildflowers and lilacs, all of which had just come into bloom, stood in vases all around the house, and the windows were open to welcome the cool springtime breeze and the warmth of the sun. My love would be home soon, and for his years of sacrifice and hard work, he deserved only the warmest, richest, most joyful welcome.
A robin landed near my feet on the pavement (which, though hard and rough, felt softer and more comfortable than ever as I knew that Johnny's train was to arrive in but a minute more) while a raven perched on a flagpole nearby. I could hear the engine whistle in the distance...just like Johnny, always whistling a happy tune. Moments later, as the train pulled into the station, I stood and whistled along. My entire body bristled with excitement and anticipation. Johnny was home. We'd be in eachothers' arms soon. Many others stood around me, hoping to see their lovers soon as well.
The train came to a halt, and the doors of the first car slid open smoothly. Out stepped countless triumphant, young soldiers, all of who glowed with pride and happiness as the lovers, friends, and family for who they fought greeted them on the platform. I waited for Johnny. He would be here soon! He was always one to sit towards the back of the train car and let others off first.
The car was almost empty. I could see but three more figures moving towards door through the foggy windows. Out stepped the first. Johnny was so close! Out stepped the second. He was next! My heart pounded with excitement. Then, out stepped the third soldier.
My heart sank; Johnny was not coming home from the war.
EDIT: Spelling. | 2017-05-25T06:54:50 | 2017-05-25T06:43:42 | 32 | 23 |
[WP] You were told to never stay up passed midnight. You went to sleep at 12:04am, it was still 12:04am when you woke up. | It was liberation. He sat up and counted aloud.
"1, 2, 3, 4..." on and on until he was certain that minutes had passed. Still the red glow of the alarm clock remained.
12:04am. His heart began to pound faster and faster as the possibilities turned in his mind. Time had stopped, but he had not. Learn a second language? Graphic design? Creative writing? Anything could be achieved. Failures were inconsequential when the time lost had no meaning.
Why was he here? What had happened? Questions that could be answered with enough rumination, he was sure. He could become the man he had always wanted to be. It felt as though the walls around him had shattered.
It was at that time that the room filled with a new light; a direct contradiction of the subtle red glow still emanating from the alarm clock. He turned to the source of the blue glow, his cell phone resting on the night stand.
A news update, and above that a time. 3:31am.
Shit. He was expected at work in less than four hours. His head fell to the pillow as the hope was extinguished from his racing heart. | The house is as silent as death. The green glow of my alarm clock casts a pale glow over my toys. Even Frederick's fluffy face grins eerily in the strange light.
I must have drifted off, but only for a few seconds, as my clock has not yet moved. I stare at it, waiting - hoping - for it to tick.
12:04
A shiver crawls down my spine, like a long legged spider slowly creeping. My skin is bumpy and I feel as if an icey breath has entered through the open window. *I don't think I'm alone.*
"Mom," I whisper, hoping she hears me in the room next door, but too terrified to speak louder. What if *something* else should hear?
12:04
Gingerly, I cast a leg over the side of the bed. I clench my eyes and wait for *whatever* is here to snatch at my leg and drag me underneath my bed - a racecar sepulchre. But, there's nothing. I swallow hard, and feel my burden lessen.
"Come on, Frederick," I whisper, trying to comfort the trembling bear. I hug him close to my chest and walk towards my nightlight.
*Click. Click.*
Nothing. It's dead. There is still only the uneasy blur of the alarm clock light, as it pours pea-soup into my room.
"Mom," I try again, a little louder. "I'm sorry - I shouldn't have stayed up so late." I walk towards my bedroom door, and as I do the grip of fear lessens a little, and the taste of hope begins to swell. "Please help me. I'll be good, I promise."
I kiss Frederick on his forehead. "It'll be okay," I whisper. I'll be strong for him.
As my hand touches the doorknob, I hear *it.*
A scratching. My blood runs cold and I stop moving. I want to swing the door open and dart out - but I can't! I'm frozen.
"I wasn't under your bed," comes the grating voice.
I feel wet-warmth run down my leg. I glance a last time at the clock.
12:04
"You should have checked the wardrobe, little one."
I clutch Frederick protectively as the wardrobe doors are flung wide and the dark figure jumps out! I scream. *It* screams. I won't let it harm Frederick. I fall on top of the bear and wrap myself around him.
The scream turns to laughter; the laughter to bursts of a familar voice.
"I'm- I'm sorry sweetheart," mom says, between her laughs. "But I told you not to stay up!"
| 2017-05-25T11:08:28 | 2017-05-25T10:27:45 | 287 | 147 |
[WP] One day, browsing reddit, you decide to click the random subreddit button. Upon doing this, you discover a subreddit obsessed with you, with posts lincluding everything you've been doing until a few hours ago. | I never go into random.
If I need to find it, it seems to come to me. Or I'll be on google and the subreddit for the thing I'm googling pops up. But I'm bored as hell.
My computer's been semi-on the fritz. By which I mean, I can barely watch a YouTube video without glitches, freezes, skipping audio... so gaming's out of the question, I don't touch Netflix, and my writing's been uninspired for months.
So I clicked random for once. Why not?
What popped up was /r/watchingladyrage8/.
Bitch, what?
At first, it seems like pretty basic knowledge from my actual page. The fact that they know where I go to college seems kinda normal, I've made some posts and some comments on the sub for it. Yeah, I follow and comment on a metric shitton of character, writing, and worldbuilding subs, of course they know I write. Knowledge of my brothers is okay, I did just mention them in AskReddit.
Wait a second here... they know my best friends' names.
And they know the /u of one of them.
They mention him (without tagging) in some of the posts.
Okay, nowww we're verging into weird. He and I have no overlap, nothing tying us together, hell, I've tossed him in as a friend on here but I never see him in orange because his posts don't intersect on anything I follow.
And then...
**"Too Bad, She Didn't Finish Watching Bones"**
Okay, that's true, but I didn't tell anyone that. Hell, I even lied and told my roommate I *did* finish it.
**"Did her old roommate steal her magnets? Discuss."**
I've barely mentioned that to my own mother.
**"Look at this stinkeye the old roommate bitch gave her this morning."**
Wait...
**"Hope that interview goes well for her!"**
That was this morning. What the fuck?
**"Her door for the floor-wide contest looks so good! She's got this in the bag"**
I'm going to scream. And that's when I got an unexpected text, from the aforementioned best friend I never see on my reddit.
*Get off of it before they realize. You're lucky I found you here first.* | So, I rarely am on reddit. I use a throwaway pseud that I don't use anywhere else. Yet today I was browsing through /r/random/ and there, for all to see, is /r/badcorvidisboring/.
I'm like "WTF?", so of course I click on it.
Holy shit, batman! Yes, I know I'm boring, but you don't have to stalk me with grainy drone/telephoto/spycam pictures to prove it. I mean seriously, pictures of me sleeping with my light on with my cat laying on top of me - which got more upvotes than other recent shots probably due to the cat!
What I can't figure out is who and how they got shots of me reading Twitter in the can at three am. The reactions were... interesting. Who knew that people were that obsessed with dull people. I must admit that my expressions when reading some of that stuff were... um... interesting (if you like seeing people frown or scowl with rage, that is.)
At least the most popular posts were the ones where I was with my cats. I think they are actually the stars of that subreddit. Still, pretty creepy if you ask me.
I know that my roomies aren't on reddit... or are they? Shit, now I have to set up a sniffer on the main house router, and hope they aren't using independent mobile hotspots.
Anyone got an EMP bug zapper for sale?
Hmmm, hit refresh...
Oh, hell, they've noticed that I am walking around flipping off the world, and that my cats are looking at me like I'm more nuts than usual. Time to hug the cat and look cute for upvotes.
Creepy as hell, it like there's always something taking pictures if I'm in my room or my office and the light is on.... hmmm. Time to look at all the pics and triangulate on camera angles to find the damned things.
OK, my mind is going 90 miles a minute. As I look through a few years worth of pictures, a slowly increasing number of angles apparently, I get this cold chill feeling of being watch, stalked, and on display, like I was in a fishbowl. I'm mentally tallying possible camera locations, and wondering why this thing is so popular that it has 2000+ viewer online with even more subscribed. It's got to be the cats. Maybe I'm just an incidental, and the viewers really just want a cat cam.
Hit refresh...
Oh, great. I think they've figured out that I've figured out that they are stalking me... (Whew! Convoluted thought process, messy reality.)
Some clown is asking me to strip. Downvote that ass.
WTF? Whoever is doing this has now started a livestream, focused on my face. The upvotes are now climbing through the roof, even though I'm not good looking. This is bizarre. Maybe it's the same kind of thing as the pet rock - so dippy it's kinda cute.
Geeze. I'm too far into WTF-land. Time to turn out the light, go get dinner, get sleep and deal with this shit in the morning. Oh, BTW, if it's my roomie, his ass will be homeless very shortly. FML.
On second thought, I'll go to dinner and leave the light on so people can watch the sleeping/loafing cats.
I have been afraid to read many of the comments. I don't think my self esteem can take the hit.
Shit, I'm hungry and scared. Food, then thinking.
I'll wave as I leave the room. Keep 'em guessing. | 2017-10-26T16:39:33 | 2017-10-26T16:36:41 | 267 | 68 |
[WP] Humans are one of the lowest ranked species in terms of population across the known universe. This qualifies us for certain amenities and protections. | "Please, we need them! Our death rates will skyrocket without AI assistance!"
Each of the dozens of races within the cavernous chamber suddenly understood. While death was a constant in Galactic society, with no immortal civilisations ever progressing past their stone age, the humans had it worst of all. They rarely gave birth to more than a single offspring at a time, and their culture made having children generally undesirable. Even when they were granted a dozen planets, even more perfectly habitable than their homeworld, they had no way of increasing their population to the quintillions that constituted a minor species' population. It was a cosmic joke, that such a rapidly advancing and technologically adept species, young as they were, would be equal in numbers to the ever-warring 'Thwarlveq' and only slightly more populous than the crystalline *^T Tink*, who didn't even reproduce intentionally.
"Our medical facilities are designed to be operated with artificially intelligent aid! Cutting them out would end with millions dying botched procedures."
Of course the humans would take the risk. They couldn't *not*, not in their desperation. Most species would not take risks, do things that could wipe out their entire species if things went wrong. Humanity had to take such risks, knowing that the alternative was certain.
That didn't mean the council could allow such risk. A young and incredibly promising species like the humans would improve their collective greatly, as even now their insights allowed them some prestige, and some valuable ideas. Just like protecting them from the dangers of antimatter by building them a safe station beyond their system, or protecting them from Lawmakers by ways of the best attorneys out of the entire Council, they would help the humans survive.
"We... agree, under several conditions."
The humans seemed relieved, but then again they hadn't seemed worried before. When the future existence of their species was so volatile, when a small epidemic of 10 billion infectees could eradicate them all, they should have been more worried. Of course, when one's race is constantly on the brink, you become used to it.
"We will examine your artificial neural networks, and give you our knowledge on how to make them safe and fool proof."
There. They'll make sure the humans couldn't be killed by a rogue AI. Perhaps...
"We will also want to add more human brain uploads to the archive."
There. By now, even if someone does kill the humans, we'll be able to revive them. The humans should agree to this readily. They really like brain uploading, it's a pity there is only one computer in our arsenal capable of translating an entire sapient mind into code. We've given them everything they requested for to build it in theory, but not even the Council can afford to build another Dyson sphere right now without bankrupting our governments.
"May we have access to Sahitar, to see how it's command algorithms functions?"
Sahitar was the most advanced AI anyone we knew had. Of course, humans needed the most advanced examples of safety algorithms known to us. We might not have given that sort of knowledge to a minor civilisation, but the humans were so few in numbers, so close to extinction, the Edict Of Sapient Preservation allowed us to use all our resources to save them.
"Yes, of course. Anything if it would ensure your species' survival."
The humans smiled, a sign of happiness for them. They must have been glad their species could cling to life for another day. | "As you all know, human beings are an endangered species," said General Rerdeg, her heels *click click click*ing as she walked across the stage before her colleagues. The assembly drew over 200 government and military officials, spread out before her like a sea of darkness. The lights pleasantly warmed her usually cold skin.
*She always looked so poised and sure of herself*, Hertef thought with admiration, her eye wide with wonder.
"There are less than eight billion of them. Obviously, this is not a sustainable number over the grand scheme of things. They haven't even learned intergalactic travel yet, nor have they proven there is life outside of their world." Redreg paused, shortening the pointer in her hand, then lengthening it again. "Imagine what that could be like. We are born knowing the universe is full of allies and enemies alike. We have the technology to pursue or evade others. But these humans not only are incapable of detecting outside life or protecting themselves, but they don't even know *that they should be.* They don't even know what threat *exists.*"
Hertef scribbled down notes on her telecommunications pad, dotting the symbols fervently to keep up with the General's stream of thoughts.
"It must be incredibly lonely," Redreg said, seemingly more to herself than to others. "That is where we come in.
"The Gelligent People of our planet are overwhelmingly humanoid, many with the ability to change our appearances at will. This will prove to be invaluable when we infiltrate Earth to set things right."
Hertef paused, then raised a hesitant hand. The General raised a brow at her. "Yes?"
"Infiltrate, Misla?" Hertef inquired, addressing the authority politely.
"Yes, infiltrate," said General Redreg, nodding from her elevated position. Diagrams and maps glowed to life behind her, lighting up like Trella Trees on Perden Day. "We have observed Earth for long enough to know that they are still eons behind where they need to be. They need a push forward. They need our minds to fuel them in the right direction. Encourage them to explore the galaxy, to travel outside of their little, insignificant home planet."
"What are they focusing on now?" Someone called from the back. Hertef grimaced at how casually the man called out, but the General seemed unfazed.
"Oh, you know them. Always focusing on money and land ownership."
"What's 'money' again?" The girl next to Hertef asked her.
Hertef leaned over to whisper. "It's like a bartering system, you use it to buy stuff."
"Why doesn't the government give them what they need?" Asked the girl.
"They're still a little underdeveloped," Hertef admitted, giving a shy smile like a mother would to excuse her misbehaving son. "With our help, they'll get there, though."
"The plan is this," the General went on. Hertef straightened. "We live among them. Subtly, with great discretion, we infiltrate their education systems, government systems, space programs. And together, we guide them in the direction we want to see Earth take."
A swell a murmuring rose from the crowd, and Hertef found herself nodding.
"Without our encouragement, this species will be extinct in the next few centuries. You have all studied them and have learned from them; many of you have even made visits to Earth. It is time we use that knowledge to proceed forward. Earth is a very valuable planet, and its citizens and histories have taught us about our own development and evolution; much of which has been lost to time." The General sighed. "Studying among them can give us insight to our roots. Where we come from, how to proceed. Where we can expect to be in the future."
Hertef was the first to applaud; the room was soon filled with the sounds of hands clapping together, of feet stomping.
The General looked proud, her shoulders pulled back as she scanned the crowd before her. "It is said that our ancestors from long ago came from Earth. One lost pod of three hundred people, off to discover the universe. Saved by the Yeds, assisted until they were a sustainable population. It is time to return that kindness to our ancient home."
The General turned suddenly, facing someone offstage. "Commander Muskergen, forward please."
A man crossed the stage, his body looking stiff. His icy blue eyes scanned the people, briefly crossing over Hertef, and she felt herself grow warm. Commander Muskergen was a Class-A Cutie.
"Muskergen will be your commander to lead you onto Earth. To change their ways," the General turned to the Commander, extending a hand. "Don't let me down, Elon," she whispered to him.
"I wouldn't dream of it," he said, and he smiled again. | 2017-11-09T16:14:16 | 2017-11-09T16:12:41 | 28 | 11 |
[WP] After being imprisoned by his kin for millennia, An ancient god of war awakes in the middle of a modern war and is completely horrified by what he sees. | Jarek walked among the corpses and a frown threatened to split his face. There were no gashes, slices, or missing limbs, just a look of slow horror that had burned its way onto the faces of the dead. Those with open eyes stared at him silently as if in their silent watch they could sense he was not human.
He had last walked the Earth during a great battle in this very area as the kings of men went to war once again, glorious chariots meeting the new phalanxes. He had gloried in the fight until the betrayal, the sacred nets, and then the cell where he had languished for millennia. For the last thousand years his kindred had lain silent and he thought himself forgotten. Upon escaping he could find no trace of them on the sacred mountain.
The metal hawk screeching and moving impossibly fast told him that the gods still existed. It had screamed past directly above where he had stood. It had brought him to the site of what was obviously a battle, but unlike one he could understand. He could hear loud repeated "coughs" in the distance, his mind struggling to understand what they were. The hawk had dropped something and he had heard the yells, the horror, the real human coughs.
These were not warriors. These were villagers. One of them - a child - stumbled from one of the houses, looked at him and against his nature he had taken the tiny girl into his arms and held her till she passed. Her breathing had grown ragged as her tiny lungs tried to find air.
A metal hawk streaked over head and something thudded into the earth next to him. A yellowish mist filled the area he was in and he realized. They were dropping poisoned air on the innocent. His mind was filled with a thousand horrors. This was not war, his domain, this was mindless evil.
-
The pilot of the Russian MiG came in for another pass - gun chattering. The man below must have had on a gas mask, the pilot thought as he banked around for another try. Let's see if he's bullet-proof too. Idiot was still standing in the open.
Then suddenly he wasn't. He was standing on the canopy right outside of the cockpit looking in with a face filled with rage. He was used to being safely above the battle field - untouchable. The Russian pilot felt fear.
-
Jarek's battle axe lifted skyward and down. Suddenly the metal hawk was spinning out of control as the cockpit filled with blood and gore like the battles of old. He landed on the ground as the hawk smashed into the side of a hill a short distance from him, its armor shattered.
He listened to the sound of coughing in the distance and leaped with inhuman strength across the desert landscape. The humans had forgotten the true face of war with their new horrifying weapons. A metal beast appeared a short distance away, the same symbol etched into its side as had marked the hawk. The symbol of the enemy. The ground around him erupted and he smiled. He lifted his axe as he ran, his battle cry drowning out its roar. This he could understand. | An inhale of air like the anticipation of a hurricane, the drawing of the ocean before the Tsunami, the gods arrived. The air around the world was filled with pressure, the pressure and uncertain pain of war.
Kansas, China, Germany, the Congo, Peru, and many more anomalies of air pressure and natural diaasters struck the earth simultaneously. Three huricanes was just the start. Nasa isnt the only organization that was bewildered. The fbi, cia, mi6, russian special forces everyone was on high alert. Everyone held their breath.
The red skinned man like the rage of fire opened his eyes: eyes bloodshot with no iris or pupils stared out. Fields of amber were all he could see, he took a hesitating step forward aware that while no one was near him that he was not the only god in the world at this very moment. He felt their pressure their atmosphere like Zeus himself would come down bearing lightning. A sight he did not want to see soon. But there was something different in the world he hasnt stepped foot in over a millenia. Something in the air. He breathed in deep. What was that cloying radiation all around him. It was faint but he could feel it. He supposed he would discover it later after he satisfied his lust.
---
"We have a visual!"
"Bring it up on the big screen. Now"
There was a red blob in the wheat fields of a rural kansas town. It was small from this point of view however the General could tell it was at least twice the size of a normal human being.
"Can we enhance this image!" it was not a question but an order.
"Im working on it!"
A second later and the visual displayed a hulking red humanoid bare chested except for a sash of weaponry. He was muscular. Unbelievably muscular.
"What is that and where did it come from!"
"I dont know sir."
Fuck. "Send a strike team into that vicinity, stop them with in 20 miles. Were gonna hit it with a rocket."
---
He sensed he was being watched. He looked around slowly, observingly. He couldn't see anyone. He took a step forward. What is that high pitched gnat sound? He looked up. There it was: a bolt. He braced himself. Why hasn't it hit him yet? He opened his eyes and it crashed upon him. It felt like a slug, but not quite the power of one of his father's javelins. It was however something very much new. He could here some humans gathering near him. 30 miles away at this point. 15 or 20. Is this mockery? In ages past it took hundreds of men to deal a cut to me. Has humanity forgotten what it is like to fight a god? They should at least remember Ra or someone. Guess it is time for humanity to relearn humility. He zoomed across the fields of wheat and met the first one and grabbed him by his head and lifted him into the air and tossed him like it was a rag doll. He landed against a boulder and slumped. The men around him stood there agape. Their commanding officer was just killed. Ares smirked. New armor but nothing could stop the Grecian god of war. Time to have some fun.
---
James stood there with his jaw to the floor. The red hulk just killed his supperior officer. Tossed him like a discarded apple. Kent and Tom were on the opposite side of the beast and looked the same. It was Mason who actually took a crack at the much to large red man. Shot him in the shoulder.
---
There was a loud blast and bright flash. He felt something thud into him. Gold liquid oozed out over his pectorals. He looked down: "What was that?" he saw a small hole in his shoulder/chest. "Well this is new." Absolutely terrifying. They could pierce his skin and he couldn't even see the projectile. What is that wood and metal rod that human is carrying? Is that what caused me this pain? Is that why I'm bloodied? Humanity has advanced quite a bit since he was last here. Looks like it may not be as fun or easy as he thought to instigate a war or to enjoy himself. Where is the adrenaline in projectile fighting where you use your entire body? This looks like a squeeze and damage is dealt. Is this magic? I must retreat before this becomes an issue.
--- In a large flash of fire and smoke the red beast disappeared. James thought: What was that? What the fuck was that?! The world is about to experience something new and it did not look like it was going to be aunties home backed apple pie. Something bad was coming. Something evil. And it was coming fast. | 2017-11-30T03:38:04 | 2017-11-30T02:36:16 | 530 | 34 |
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